#fundraising scandal

[trendynewsnow]

The Political Landscape of Japan: Challenges for the Liberal Democratic Party

The Political Landscape of Japan: A Turning Point for the L.D.P. The political dominance of Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party (L.D.P.) has been nothing short of extraordinary. Since its formation in 1955, the party has played a pivotal role in shaping Japan’s governance, showcasing a remarkable ability to maintain power despite ongoing internal rivalries and a frequent turnover of leadership. This…

[countessrivers]

So, when I started working at a previous job of mine, there was already a years-long pay dispute happening because the place had been severely underpaying the casual staff and were being horrendously bullshit and underhanded about it. Like, it was bad. At the point of arbitration because the employer wouldn't back down, but also, they treated the staff awfully. Threatened jobs, belittled staff, tried to undermine the union, all that jazz.

Well, while looking for something unrelated, I found the letter I'd received from said employer at about the 3 month mark that A. didn't admit to any wrong doing on their part. B. gave away that they were pretty obviously trying to wedge the previous staff members and the non-union staff against current staff. C. threatened the future viability of the position itself if they were forced to cough up what they owed. And D. tried to get me to accept a settlement of 25% of what I was owed.

A timely reminder then that your boss (and lbr your HR department) is not your friend, they would pay you nothing if they could get away with it, and that you should never accept a cent less that what you, your time, and your work is worth.

[stuckinapril]

It has been 8 months and counting now, but every day I choose to be shocked and scandalized and rendered speechless by the utterly brutish, utterly horrific atrocities committed by Israel every single day. It should never become a new normal to know a whole country’s being genocided and to choose to distract ourselves w other things instead. It should never be standard to look at fundraisers of families suffering and choose to ignore them, to look the other way, to write them off as scams to alleviate any sort of guilt or gravity or moral implication that comes with ignoring these fundraisers. They should never ever be things we are okay with because it’s “just what Israel does now” “it’s just how people are” “it’s just racism.”

[rigginsstreet]

Also vanderpump rules filming while the pulse shooting happened is wild like��.god it’s weird watching this episode

[head-post]

Japan’s PM considers replacing ministers amid fundraising scandals

Japan’s Prime Minister Fumio Kishida is considering switching all ministers from his ruling party’s faction over a series of political fundraising scandals.

We’ll consider appropriate measures at the right time to restore public trust and prevent delays in national politics.

At this point, Kishida has already decided to fire Chief Cabinet Secretary Hirokazu Matsuno over failing to report millions of yen in fundraising efforts for the party faction, which is the largest in the ruling party.

Economy, Trade and Industry Minister Yasutoshi Nishimura is facing similar accusations.

Japanese media speculate that along with the ministers, all senior vice ministers and parliamentary vice ministers from Abe’s faction are also likely to be removed.

“I intend to fulfil the responsibilities of duties I have been given.”

Read more HERE

[zorawitch]

being an older out trans person in a high school is like having fifteen adopted children who are all a single year younger than you.

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖇𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖓 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆⋆｡🎧𖦹 °✩ 🎸⋆⸜♩ - PART 2

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘱-𝘢𝘯𝘥-𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳-𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘦𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘴. 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩; 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺.

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, (𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥)𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮/𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (𝘯𝘰𝘵 on 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳), 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘦-𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘺, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘮 + 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮(?)

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,420

⭒ a/n: my first story! hope this is satisfactory :) sorry if my writing is difficult to understand or cringy!!

will you venture down this path?

every few months your manager tells you to attend a celebrity fundraiser gala. 2 years ago you'd never know that these events were only breeding grounds for filthy scandals. now here you are, standing in the corners of a dark ballroom with stars dangling from the ceiling.

you are an idol, the embodiment of purity and song. another puppet forced to take on a false persona of endless joy, most would say. but you? you actually loved the spotlight. to you, that persona is your truth. you bathe in the attention and love of others, you live for it.

so why weren't you with the crowd? why not be in the centre of it all? it's because he was there. he was stealing the place you've shed blood, sweat, and tears for with such ease. effortlessly charming everyone even with that poker face. Deimos. a miracle rockstar who rose in fame shortly after your debut. instantly landing himself in the top #5 leaderboard after the release of his first album.

you were both from the same agency. you've seen him around the company building a couple of times, more frequently during your early pre-debut years. you'd pass brief glances at each other whenever you crossed paths in the hallways or practice rooms. you couldn't understand where your anger and envy emerged from despite never talking to him before.

maybe it was his obnoxious grin?

the fact he surpassed your fame within a shorter time?

his voice that hypnotises even you?

or the copious amount of money he sends during your ig live, begging you to notice the anonymous user?

he had shorter hair back then, dyed a different colour. now he has more accessories, a bigger build, longer hair, and dull eyes that only seemed to brighten whenever you catch him staring at you. you noticed he still stood at around 6'5 (195 cm), even taller with his black platform boots.

you'd try to send telepathic brain frequencies and (not so) intimidating glares at him, seeing if his blank face would falter (it didn't). instead, it made him glance in your direction. your frustration increases, and you blow a raspberry at him without thinking clearly... his reaction? an amused smirk.

instant embarrassment rises to your head. unable to handle the atmosphere inside the room, you immediately run out into the hallway. your brain begins to fuzz up, and you're not thinking clearly- you don't know if it's from the alcohol or the pure shame of blowing a raspberry at him. what are you? a preschooler?

blind to your surroundings, you don't notice the hulking figure walking towards you at full speed. calming yourself, you turn back to the ballroom to end the night. only to bump your face into a sturdy chest, that was not so covered by the tight, black button-up shirt of your rival (his nips were barely out).

you profusely apologise to the stranger until you look up to meet the heterochromatic eyes of Deimos. black and gold with slits, like a feline. and like a feline, his presence was threatening. this was the closest you've ever been to him and you can't help but think that people are blind. why do people crowd around him like he's an oasis? the way his eyes lit up a little too bright, and his face contorts into that of a devoted lover brought no comfort to you.

why does he look like that?

"y/n," he finally pants out, "y/n... you're looking at me."

what the fuck?

"i'm your biggest fan."

backing up uncomfortably, you slowly process his words before replying.

"...you are?"

if Deimos had a tail, it'd be wagging like crazy right now.

"yeah... i've been a fan since your performance at the spring festival. not sure if you remember but..." he trails off.

the spring festival? i don't remember going to any spri- holy shit.

3 years ago. you sang a duet at the town's spring festival with a friend, back then you weren't even a trainee yet. so how coincidental is it that the Deimos was watching you from somewhere in the crowd? that you both ended up in the same agency?

wait. does this mean.... Deimos adores me? as a fan? my fan?

this was too good to be true. your rival, the hottest star among stars, absolutely smitten by you? claiming to be your fan? your ego has never been higher. you decide to indulge him with a conversation.

surprisingly, the conversation was deeply meaningful. you found common interests with him- you shared favourite songs, media, and hobbies... "woman after my own heart," he snickers. soon, any past resentment towards him just.. washes away. gone, buried.

you naturally gravitate towards each other, like the earth and the apple from a tree, a pull. how long has it been since you've enjoyed talking to someone like this? has your bitter envy prevented you from forming a raw friendship with him all this time?

it feels surreal. he asks you for an autograph to commemorate the celebration of a blooming friendship and you agree, asking him if he had a pen and paper. he chuckles and says no, opting to whisk you away into an empty room. not creepy at all.

inside the room, he sits you down on the bed and searches his pockets for an object. you grow curious until he unsheathes out... a combat knife. shitshitshit- he's going to kill me! i knew this was suspicious-

he casually offers you the blade.

"use this." he says while untucking his shirt.

you stare at him as he had grown a second head, "...what?"

he nonchalantly replies while displaying his lower right abdomen, "to write? y'know, your autograph?"

it's official. you were absolutely fucking terrified of Deimos. he tells you to carve out your name on his body as if he was asking for a pack of ketchup at mcdonalds!! you were getting queasy, mind running though all the possible scenarios and options to get out of this.

"you not backing up now are you, songbird?"

his eyes bear holes into your body.

"c'mon, you can't leave me in the edge me like this... just...."

he gently grabs your wrist that held the knife, carefully guiding it to his abdomen. being touched so softly by his scarred, calloused hands made your breathing ragged. he lovingly rubs stars into your forearms as he lightly plunges the tip of the knife into his skin.

you could stab him. you could stab his knife deep into his chest and run away. but what would that mean for you in the future? if you got caught, your career would crumble, sentenced to jail, humiliated and resented by the public. and if you did get away with it, guilt would eat away at your blood-soaked hands forever.

Deimos notices your visible discomfort and tenderly caresses your hair down to your cheeks, wiping away tears you didn't know you had shed. "shh shh... i'm sorry, so so sorry, songbird. you're so kind for not wanting to hurt me... i'll never ask again after this, alright? claim me."

he was so charming. even in this situation.

he presses the knife further into his lower abdomen, drawing blood. you gasp, stuttering out your words "...just my initial, okay?" you look up, he seems disappointed but gives you a genuine smile and nods. you put more pressure onto the hilt of the knife this time, his skin bleeds, not enough to be fatal but enough to scar.

you place your other hand on his toned waist, and you can feel him shivering as the ends of his hair trickle the crown of your head. you finish carving out your initial, dropping the knife on the ground and backing up to look at your work.

it was messy, the blood dripped down to his pants and you swore you felt your heart get... t i n g l e s? he proudly admires your work, pulling down his shirt back in place, still untucked.

Deimos kneels down at the edge of the bed, taking your hands and cupping them on his cheeks. turning his head to tenderly kiss your palm and inhale in the scent.

he looks up at you adoringly with the widest smile on his face, "thank you, songbird. it's very pretty." pulling himself closer to your face, you exchange an unexpectedly passionate kiss, in which your reciprocate. hungry for any form of comfort.

rival-turned-biggest-fan, Deimos smirks into the kiss.

the gravitational pull.

[deadpresidents]

I’m curious about the friendship between Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter (and presidential friendships in general,) I’d like to know what that looked like for them. Would they go and do things together or was it just a few phone calls a year?

Their relationship is really interesting because during the 1976 campaign and in the years right afterward, Ford and Carter genuinely did not like each other. It wasn't a normal, opponent vs. opponent rivalry, either. They straight-up disliked one another, and that was extremely unusual for Gerald Ford, who got along with practically everybody he met throughout his life, rarely had bad things to say about other people, and was almost physically incapable of being unkind to others, no matter what side of the political spectrum they belonged to.

What changed was when President Reagan sent all the living former Presidents -- Nixon, Ford, and Carter -- to Cairo in 1981 to attend Anwar Sadat's funeral following Sadat's assassination. The three former Presidents all flew together on one of the planes normally used as Air Force One, and there was some tension at the beginning, but the person who broke the ice, oddly enough, ended up being Richard Nixon. Ford then suggested that the former Presidents should drop all formalities and just refer to one another as Dick, Jerry, and Jimmy. As Ford remembered, "I guess we figured we were gonna be in a plane together forty hours, more or less, and in order to be pleasant, it was a good idea to just wipe the slate clean, which we did." Ford and Carter eventually started bonding, partly over the fact that Ronald Reagan was a major reason why each of them ultimately lost their respective bids for re-election.

At the time, Carter was having trouble building his Presidential Library, and he asked Ford for some advice since Ford had just recently opened his library. When Carter mentioned he was having some issues raising money for the library, Ford offered to come down and appear at fundraisers for him, and asked Carter to return the favor and visit the Ford Library for an event.

As Thomas M. DeFrank writes in his 2007 book, Write It When I'm Gone: Remarkable Off-the-Record Conversations With Gerald R. Ford (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO):

"Carter accepted, triggering a Jimmy-Jerry tag team match extending over several years. These back-scratching appearances didn't convert them into friends, but the relationship was notably friendlier. They began staying in regular contact, talking on the phone, and exchanging birthday greetings. Their contacts were sufficiently public that some of Ford's closest political allies grumbled that he was spending altogether too much time with Carter -- not unlike similar complaints from [George H.W.] Bush 41 partisans today that he hangs around Bill Clinton too much. Ford brushed off the complaints. Beyond their shared practical interests in Presidential Libraries, another unifying bond was at play. Both ex-Presidents had strong reasons not to like Ronald Reagan, which helped cement their ties even though neither one would ever admit it publicly. To one old Ford friend, the calculation was simple: 'Once you did something for his library or museum, you were a friend for life.'"

As they got older, Ford and Carter would sometimes make joint appearances at Presidential Libraries or universities, or events for important causes, and they even wrote a joint op-ed during the Monica Lewinsky scandal urging Congress to censure President Clinton instead of impeaching him. They felt it was a bad precedent (which it has clearly turned out to be) and would be bad for the country. Unlike Ford, Jimmy Carter wasn't very easy-going or personable, so there were times when their friendship would get a little frayed. Ford once told a friend, "Well, you know Jimmy. He can be a real pain in the ass, but we get along."

Eventually, they promised one another that they would deliver the eulogy if the other former President died first. President Ford died first, on December 26, 2006, and Carter attended every event during the several days of ceremonies, from Ford's lying in state at the U.S. Capitol, to the national funeral service at the Washington National Cathedral, and traveled with Ford's family and the former President's remains to Ford's hometown of Grand Rapids, Michigan. At the church service in Grand Rapids, Carter delivered his eulogy, and also attended the private interment service when Ford was buried as at his Presidential Library. In his eulogy, Carter repeated the gracious first words he had said when delivering his Inaugural Address on the day he took over the White House from Ford in 1977, "For myself and for my nation, I want to thank my predecessor for all he has done to heal our land." It was a remarkable relationship between two former Presidents who, again, genuinely disliked one another for quite some time.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Emily Singer at Daily Kos:

Montana Republican Senate nominee Tim Sheehy appears to have been caught in yet another lie about his military service. NBC News reported on Thursday that despite Sheehy claiming to have been discharged from his service in the military because he was declared medically unfit to serve, his discharge records say Sheehy voluntarily resigned and did not cite any medical conditions. 

[...]

This is the latest false claim Sheehy appears to have made about his time as a Navy SEAL, service he has touted on the campaign trail in his quest to unseat Democratic Sen. Jon Tester. In April, The Washington Post reported a discrepancy in a story Sheehy told about being shot in the arm. On the campaign trail, Sheehy said he was shot in the arm while serving in Afghanistan in 2012. However, in October 2015, Sheehy went to the emergency room after a trip to Glacier National Park, where he reported having a gunshot wound in his arm. He told a park ranger that he had shot himself in the arm in the park by accident, and was fined $525 for illegally discharging a weapon in a national park. He later said he purposefully lied to the ranger about the gunshot wound because he hadn’t reported being shot in the arm to the military. He said he didn’t report it to the military at the time because the wound may have been from friendly fire and he didn’t want anyone in his unit to get in trouble.

[...] Questions about his military service are not the only scandal Sheehy has faced during the election. Sheehy was hit by a lawsuit in April from former employees of his aerial firefighting company of defrauding them out of millions of dollars.  Sheehy has also been slammed by Native American groups in the state after he used racist stereotypes in talking about the Native population in the state. At a fundraiser in November 2023, Sheehy talked about going cattle branding on Montana’s Crow Reservation, and said it’s “a great way to bond with all the Indians out there while they’re drunk at 8 AM.” Polls show Sheehy, a multimillionaire Minnesota transplant, leading Tester in the race, which could determine control of the Senate. Tester has an uphill battle to overcome the likely double-digit win former President Donald Trump will pull off in the state, which would require Tester to win over a number of GOP voters.

GOP Montana Senate nominee Tim Sheehy caught in yet another lie about his military service record.

This should be disqualifying, but sadly, he’ll defeat incumbent Jon Tester (D) and flip this seat (and likely the Senate) red.

[lamoobsessions]

Ideal Date

Celebrity AU: Hazel Callahan x (fem)Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: no use of y/n, very breif mentions of sex, unwanted touch (just wrist grabbing), Hazel is kind of a loser.

A/N: Very loosely inspired by the song 'boyfrined,' by Dove Cameron. I say loosely because the song's essence isn't really there, you know what I mean? It's more of a idiots in love vibe, than anything. Anyway, this is my first Hazel fic, so I hoped I captured her character well 🙏

· ─────────── ·

The idea of a gala is a lot more exciting than the execution, or at least, that’s what Hazel was beginning to think. There isn’t much to do, aside form eat food, down a few drinks, and participate in some auction; which, come to think of it, she has no idea what this gala is fundraising. Whatever organziation sponsored the event, Hazel didn’t know it. She probably should, but she simply didn’t check the invite. The moment she heard you’d be here, there was no second thought about it, she was going. And at first she was excited. 

It’s an indoor event, held in some big extravagant ballroom with shiny marble floors and dazzling chandeliers. The food is terrific, the drinks are delicious, and the DJ must have rent to pay because they were playing all the right songs. It was all going so well.

 But then you showed up with him, James Watsky, your annoyingly handsom co-star in some new upcoming action movie -She didn’t know the details of it, once there were rumors of a scandalous sex scene in the film, she never botherd looking into it too much. All she knew was that you looked great in the trailers. Your hair pinned up high, your shorts cut low, your tank top dirty with grime, and your plush lips bloodied and busted, how could someone pull off a look like that so well? As many other celebrities have experienced, there was a rumor you sold your soul for the fame, and as much as Hazel believed those rumors were only made to take away the credit from a woman’s success, she was beginning to think maybe you did. But not for the fame, but for beauty. In her eyes, it was unreal, a celestial-like beauty. 

Not only were you beautiful, but you were a joy to be around. 

The first time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was when she helped co-write for an episode of a sitcom series you had a part in. It was during the first uptick of your career, so the producers finally let you direct an episode yourself. Having no experience in screenwriting, you were sent to Hazel for help. Together, the two of you made one of the most beloved episodes of the whole series. 

The second time Hazel had the privilege of working with you was just after the series finale, and the contract tying you down to the series was terminated. To her delight, you called her up that same day and asked if she wanted to produce a movie with you -On the one condition that she starred in it with you. She agreed, though hesitantly at first. Hazel didn’t know if she’d like the spotlight. Sitting behind the scenes, re-writing dialogue, and tweaking a few storylines was more her pace. At least, that’s what she thought at first, til you came along and showed her her full potential. You were one of the few people in Hazel’s life to actually believe in her work. 

And that movie changed everything. 

She started booking more writing gigs, more acting gigs, more interviews. At first it was overwhelming, but it grew on her, and with that grew your friendship. The public loved it, the press loved it, casting crews loved it. It was a win-win all around, but Hazel wanted more. And just as she began to realize that, this whole action movie came up and took away most of your time. 

The two of you have rarely talked since, only on rare occasions like these -immense, pretentious, and excessive events that drained her social battery the second she walked through the door. 

But you were here, and it’s been three years since you’ve started that movie (production was a bitch). Now, it felt as if you were out of reach, like she was back at square one, watching the celebrity she admired most as a mere fan.

Hazel didn’t think it would hurt so much seeing you here. She missed you more than she thought she did. You in your long, satin dress that hugged your waist so well. You wearing that annoyingly infectious smile that never seemed to die down. You with your graciously pinned up hair that she was sure would be the softest thing she could ever touch.  

And still, even with your classic beauty and genial personality, you showed up with him. The douches of all douches. It hurt her to see you with him. It ached her to see you sat with your arm linked with his, as you sipped your cocktail with a smile.

Actually, it was beginning to annoy her. Why him? You could do so much better than him. Why did it have to him, of all people? What did he offer? What did he have that she didn’t? She could be a better gentleman than him, Hazel was sure of that. 

No, she wasn’t sad anymore, she was angry. Whether it be at herself for not making a move sooner, or at him from stealing you from her, or at you for being with someone like him. It didn’t matter who exactly she was mad at, all that mattered was that she was pissed. Even more pissed when she noticed your date grabbing your wrist. 

You and him were at one of the formal tables, your chairs faceing the dance floor, as he desperately tried to pull you off your seat, presumably for a dance. You seemed steadfast in your decision to stay put. But still, he didn’t relent, he tugged and pulled, as his face grew warmer with frustration. You were just as stubborn, shaking your head and trying to keep your cool with an unsteadily calm expression. Finally, the man gave in, throwing his hands up in frustration, he stormed off. 

At first, Hazel thought he was running off to get a drink, but no, he was leaving. Full-on exiting the gala. In a matter of seconds he brushed past Hazel’s shoulder, and walked out the door. All of it because you wouldn’t dance with him.

Averting her attention back to you, you seemed almost unfazed. Your eyes glued to your phone as you pressed rapidly against the screen. Okay, maybe you weren’t unfazed, you looked just as pissed as Hazel felt moments ago. 

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should she approach you? Is it even her place to try to comfort you? The two of you weren’t even that kind of close anymore, would you find it too up-front? 

You were upset, that much was obvious, and Hazel wanted to fix that, fix your friendship. It didn’t matter if it would escalates into more, she just wanted her best friend back. 

It took two shots of tequila to do it, but she finally stepped in your direction and made her way toward your table. You were still typing away at your phone, too much in a world of your own to notice Hazel right in front of you. 

“Rough night?” she asked, immdeianlty pulling in your attention.

“Oh my god, Hazel,” your expression switched, a smile now beaming from your lips. It made her want to melt on the spot. “It’s so good to see you. I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Yeah?”

You hum, nodding happily, as you pat the seat next to you, to which Hazel obliged. “I’m sorry we haven’t talked much. I’ve been meaning to reach out, but you know… work stuff.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I haven’t been reaching out much either, so…”

“Well, let’s not let it happen again, yeah? You’re like… one of the very few people in this industry I actually like.”

Hazel bites back a smile, hoping to prevent it from growing any bigger. It was becoming more and more evident as each moment passed, none of the feelings she felt for you before have diminished. Even after all this time, everything still felt so fresh. She still loved you.

She just had no idea where she wanted this to go. It’s been three years since your friendship changed, yet she still felt the same way. She still felt those same flutters in her stomach. 

“I’m… really glad you’re here.” Your words sound much more soft, much more fervent than your previously chipper tone. “Honeslty, you’re the only reason I came.”

Hazel felt stunned for a moment. She didn’t want to read too much into your implications, it’s been a while since you two have gotten to talk one-on-one. But to hear your soft, sincere tone again was a lost treasure Hazel hadn’t known she lost. 

“I thought your date would be the reason you came.” she teases.

You huff a laugh, leaning into your seat. “No, he’s- uh… definitely not my ideal date.”

“Who’s your ideal date then?” Hazel didn’t know what she wanted in an answer. She didn’t know what to expect either. 

You turn to her with a shy grin plastered on your lips, one that Hazel couldn’t quite read. “It’s a secret.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you hum smugly. 

“If I guess right, will you tell me?”

“You’re not going to guess.”

“What if I do?”

“You’re not going to,”

“But what if?”

You narrow your eyes, brushing them over her expression, as if trying to determine something. You were so close, if Hazel just leaned in just a little, she could close the space between you two. It was tempting, very tempting. 

“Fine,” You resort, leaning back into your chair. “If you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

Hazel’s smile grows steadily, though she couldn’t be more nervous. Truthfully, she didn’t want to know your ideal date, because she knew it wouldn’t be her. But if this little game you two were playing would re-kindle your lost friendship, she’d do it. She’d do it all night if that’s what it took. 

Her eyes dart around the room, glancing over all the potential competitors. With her distraction, she hadn’t noticed your eyes glued to her, watching as she inspects the party.  

“Christopher,” She guesses.

“Which one? There are like fifty of them here.”

“Christopher Chapesky,”

“Nope,”

“Christopher Paulmer,”

“Nope,” 

“Christopher Liam.”

“Nope.”

“Is it any of the Chris's?”

“That’s cheating, you’ll elimanate half the party suggesting that name.”

“So, it isn’t any of them?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “No, you’re way off base.”

“So, you’re not into Chris’s. Got it.”

“I’m just not into egomaniacs.”

Hazel falls into the seat with a flail of her arms. “What? But that’s like, the whole party.”

You shrug, “There are a few gems.”

Finally, Hazel looks to you. Her deadpan expression immediately flips upon finding your gaze already on her. That same gentle, hazy expression, staring back at her, you felt so easy to subdue to. If she stared at you too long, she’d surely get lost. Time would become irrelevant, the world would stop spinning, nothing around her would be able to pull her back out. It’s a dangerous game she has herself in. Afraid to get too drawn in, she seeks refuge looking back to the crowd. 

“Do I at least know them?” She questions. 

A silence fills your end, there is no response.

Hazel, calls your name, to find you staring down at your hands, twisting and turning your rings nervously. Til, you snap out of your daze, meeting her questioning stare. “Sorry?”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh… yeah.” you nod. “You know them, pretty well actually.”

Hazel didn’t know many people at this gala. The people she did know, she only knew in passing. So, who else was here that she knew ‘pretty well’? 

“Okay…” Hazel sighs, wanting to give up. The game was turning into torment, no person she named would make her feel better. She wanted it to be her. 

“I told you, you’re not going to guess.”

“Yeah,” Hazel huffs, crossing her arms. “I’m beginning to think you’re right.”

“Always am,” You joke, nudging her side. 

She puts her tongue to her cheek, shaking her head disapprovingly. 

She didn’t know, but that look on her drove you crazy. Hazel never caught your longing glances, you were strategic with them -well, ususally. There were rare occasion where you were caught, but she never questioned them. 

Though, there’s something about her tonight. Her pristine fitting suit, her perfectly shaped hair, her sly, chasing tone. Mentally, you’ve mapped all her features. You admired them all the way from the moles on the back of her neck, to the small curvature in her nose. She was impossible not to stare at.

Your phone vibrated on the table, pulling you out of your prolonged glance. It was your manager. You exhale your disappointment. Nodding to Hazel to excuse you, as you accept the call. 

“Hey,” You greet with an even tone. 

Hazel saw the contact name, but she didn’t need to know it was your manager to sense your immediate discomfort. 

“He was being an ass and I wouldn’t take it, so he left.” You remark, as your leg began to tap up and down nervously by your chair. “I wasn’t going to tolerate it. He can’t just… I know, I’m sorry… well he shouldn’t have… no, I know… I know…”

She tried to listen to what your manager could be saying, but over all the music and the chattering commotion, it was near impossible. Whatever it was, she knew it had something to do with that James Watsky guy you were seeing. Why your manager cared, she didn’t know. 

“Look, i’m still at the gala, so I can’t really talk about it right now… well, he’s the one that left, I didn’t tell him to leave…I couldn’t have made him stay if I tried. It would’ve only made things worse…fine, that’s fine. Just…call me later, then… Okay, bye.”

You end the call, leaning your head back over the seat with a groan. 

“Everything okay?” Hazel asked. 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You apologizde, grabbing your drink off the table to take a few swigs. “I hired a new manager recently, and he’s… kind of the worst honestly.”

“Why don’t you drop him?”

“I can’t. Signed a contract, I’m stuck with him til the end of the year.” 

“Damn, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You say, a smile retuning to your lips. “He’ll probably drop me anyways, which isn’t a bad thing, cause that’s the only way I’ll probably get out this mess soon.”

Hazel could didn’t want to pry, knowing you probably didn’t want to talk about it. Not here, not now. You were at a gala after all, weren’t these things supposed to be fun? 

An idea popped into her head, one that could get your manager to drop you in an instant. She told herself it was solely for you, that there were no selfish intentions behind it. Though, she wasn’t fooling herself one bit. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

“What?” you asked with a smile. You heard her perfectly clear, but, admittedly, you wanted to hear her say it again. 

“Do you wanna dance?”

Suppressing an embarrassingly wide grin, you bit down your lips and nod. 

Hazel stands and holds out a hand, her sliver rings gleaming under the chandelier lights. In that moment, you really do wonder if looks can kill. 

Her hand is cold to the touch, as she guides you through the main floor. In your eyes, she couldn’t seem less nonchalant about it, but in reality, Hazel’s heart pounded in her ears. She never danced with anyone before, not in the way everyone else was dancing with their partners. The last time she checked the dance floor, the moves were loose, uncoordinated. No one danced with any sort of plan, they just moved. But now, step after step, they swayed with elegance in their every move. Slow, suave music carrying their motions. 

Hazel placed her hands on your waist, simultaneously steadying her tremble. Your hands met her shoulders, and finally, you could see through her calm facade.  

“You never slow dance before?” You ask with a subtle simper.

“No,” she laughs breathily. 

“that’s okay, I’ll lead.” You gently place your hand on hers, lifting it from your waist and interlocking your fingers. Hazel watches you intently, her eyes trailing from your hands, to your waist, to your lips, til finally, she meets your careful gaze. 

You begin to sway your hips, hoping to initiate some movement. Though, Hazel was enamored, nervous and stiff beyond repair. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, she hesitated before even thinking to move. Yet, with the gentle music and your attentive touch, she began to settle her stiff form, and follow your lead. With each slow step, left to right, front to back, you fall into form. 

Hazel and you have always walked a thin line between intimacy and amity. At times, it felt restraining, like you were stepping on egg shells around each other. But now, it felt like balancing on a tight rope, teetering with hitched breathes, as you sway side to side. 

There were moments you wanted to push her away, as if simply being around her felt like too much. But, in that same sense, you wanted to pull her closer. You wanted to pull her close and never let go. 

And Hazel couldn’t keep her eyes off you. You were intoxicating, especially in that dress. It made her want to inhale your very essence, like it was her oxygen. Bewitched, enthralled, fascinated, charmed, you name it. Hazel was all of the above. 

Moments pass, and not a single word has been uttered. There was a silent understanding that if anything was spoken, it would break the threshold. If this was intimate or platonic, that very concept would be revealed the moment either of you decided to speak. So, neither of you did. Instead, the both of you reveled in this small bubble of time, wishing it would never burst. 

Slowly, as the dance progressed, the two of you drifted closer. You found Hazel’s chest pressed to yours, and your chin tucked under her shoulder. In the back of your mind, you can see the nosey rumors, the catchy headlines, the snarky articles. Surely, your manager would drop you after this. But, in a freeing sort of way, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. None of that mattered, not when Hazel was finally back in your life. 

The past three years have been hell, though nothing in those recent years could top being with her. To be in her arms again felt liberating. Even now, you felt the same giddiness you felt the day you met her. It’s like you jumped right back to where you were before with eachother. Nothing had changed, not even the intense surge of adrenaline you got around her. That never left. 

“You know it was only a PR thing, right?” you say, feeling the sudden urge to inform her.

Hazel pulls back, her eyes looking down at you. “What?”

“James, he wasn’t a real date.”

“Oh,” the weight that had been sitting on Hazel’s shoulders since she saw you with him,  finally lifted.”Right, yeah, I knew that.”

She did not in fact know that.  

“I would never go out with someone like him,” you admit, hopelessly attempting to drop all the hints you could. “I mean, I would prefer not going out with men in the first place, so…”

Very briefly, her eys dart to your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You breath. Whenever she said stuff like that it made you feel like a giddy schoolgirl with a stupid crush. It was much more than that of course, but she made your stomach flip all the same. 

“So, your ideal date is a woman?”

“Precisely.”

“How long were you going to let me list off half the men in this room?” she laughs. 

“Well, I was pretty amused by it, so… forever maybe?”

She playfully rolls her eyes, “You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She dismisses. 

You don’t know when it happened, but Hazel had taken the lead, and suddenly, you were following her steps on the dance floor. 

“You really want to know who my Ideal date is?”

“I don’t know,” Hazel sighs, her demeanor suddenly switching. The idea of you wanting someone else devastated her. She felt nervous all over again. “Do I?”

“I think you do,” your voice is barely over a whisper, but Hazel still heard your words clearly, and that lifted her confidence just a little. “She’s sweet…charming…funny,” You list each factor, hoping your voice didn’t tremble as much as your hands did. “She has short, brown hair, soft blue eyes, a nice smile. She’s an okay dancer, I guess. But you know, she didn’t have the best teacher…”

The rest of the words get caught in the back of your throat, as Hazel’s hand untangles from yours, and meets your jaw instead. She had heard enough by then, and with her enraptured stare boring into yours, the gap between you two closed and your lips locked. A fit of sparks burst in your chest, as Hazel’s one hand on your waist tightens its grip, further deepening the kiss. It’s slow, soft, and gentle with each tug of her lips. 

You’re positive no durg or substance could ever achieve a high equivalent this one. Her mere touch made you feel impossibly lighter. 

“You’re my ideal date too, by the way.” She utters against your lips. 

“Good,” A light laughter escapes you, before you pulled her in once more. 

Her lips curved upward, as both her hands travel from your neck to you hair, tangling her fingers in the loose strands. She wasn’t sure where her body started and where yours ended. It felt as if you had consumed her whole, that the two of you are now of one being. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, never had she thought you would feel so good. 

She couldn’t believe she had at one point regretted coming here. She almost went home. But, god was she glad she didn’t, cause you were here, in her arms, kissing her. Hazel had changed her mind, maybe these gala things weren’t so bad. 

[harlowhockeystick]

coach sidney as written by taylor swift songs

to begin, she hoped sidney wouldn't think of her as some sort of slut for doing what she's doing. for hooking up to get her son on varsity, but in the midst of all that she starts to fall for him. she starts to imagine what it would be like if they were together. if other people started to talk, but she couldn't help it because it went straight to her head. she got lovesick, they were just in the wrong place at the right time she thinks. it might blow up in their faces, they might just fall in love, and if they do so what?

then it moves to a scene like i can see you. right after the infamous dinner at sidney's house where she laid it down real good so her son could get on varsity, the tension was thick between them. they had to be fast and keep quiet, both of them had imagined things to do with each other, and when sidney sent her a text in the middle of a school district fundraiser gala that said meet me tonight. he was tired of seeing other guys talk to her.

as she feels herself falling in love, he does too, it turns into both of them wanting to be end game. sidney wants to be her number one, he wants to be the first thing on her mind always. he knows they would be the cause of a lot of chatter amongst school staff, they would be a big deal and it might cause a rip in their reputation but he wouldn't care. and she doesn't want to be just another woman to sidney. they might try to just forget about the first hookup but they just couldn't. every night she thinks of his liquor colored eyes and she realizes she doesn't want to be just anything, she wants to be end game.

she realizes after a few dates and actually getting to know one another, that he is the absolute king of my heart, as she wrote in her journal one night. because she was perfectly fine living on her own, after her ex husband left her she decided it was just going to be her and carter and that it was better that way. but now, a month in, he calls her baby and he stays at her house some nights too when carter is at his friends for the night, of course. she enjoys spending nights outside under the stars, drinking beer and having innocent touches turn into lustful fistfuls of clothing and dark marks left in spaces where only he can see.

she knows people will just call it what they want after they have to tell the hr department at school they're together. she knows people will snicker, start rumors, paint scandalous pictures when they see them in the teachers lounge together. when they see him sitting next to her during warm ups before a game, or when they see the two love bird on a date out in town. but she smiles because she's the one he's walking toward, she's the one he's sitting next to. he caused flowers to grow back, she can laugh and smile more, she can have fun too. oh, and when she shows up to work one day with a 's' charm on her necklace next to the 'c' one she got for her son carter, you can guarantee that everyone is losing their minds.

she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something drastic to happen, for the end to come, but she keeps running home to his sweet nothings to remind her that everything will be just fine. after a year of being together, sidney makes sure to have lots of time with carter too. sure he's dating her, but he wants to make sure over and over that carter is okay with it. she gets so happy to sidney bond with carter like he does, to make sure that sidney includes carter in everything he does at home. to see him in the kitchen humming, teaching carter how to use the grill, it happens all the time.

sidney makes sure to ask carter before anyone else if it's okay if he marries his mom. he takes him out to lunch and he makes sure carter knows it's okay if he doesn't want it to happen and that sidney will respect his decision. he gets his blessing, and as if she was eavesdropping that night she said she'll marry him with paper rings if he ever asked, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

[inkcurlsandknives]

So I'd like to talk a bit about the Filipino funeral gold scandal and how as someone writing an anti-colonial Filipino epic fantasy based heavily on early shaman lead rebellions against Spanish colonial rule I have some intense feelings about Filipino actress Beauty Gonzales flaunting wearing funerary death masks taken from a Large number of graves in surigao, butuan and mindinao and rather then treating them with appropriate respect or any kind of cultural ethics and instead turning them into fashion jewelry.

Aside from the damage to important archeological artifacts the utter disrespect shown to the dead who were interred in this way to ensure thier successful passage into the afterlife and to protect their bodies from the entry of evil spirits

For me it calls to mind when I was doing my primary sources research for Saints of Storm and Sorrow into the tree and boat burials of Luzon and reading the accounts of precolonial funerary practices by early Spanish friars and "naturalists" one of these documents was the memoir of Domingo Sanches who in a particularly horrifying account, noted how in the village he was staying in a young girl had died and he recorded how she was mourned and the great love and ceremony with which she was buried and how later that night he snuck back, dug up her grave and stole her body for research purposes. I remember he noted the great hostility of the natives when they discovered his theft and how he'd be unlikely able to return. I can't help being horrified at the thought of a Filipino actress adding to this horrible history of grave robbing and disrespecting the dead. To the colonialist mentality of taking spiritually important items and turning them into decorations. The level of disrespect is staggering. This is not the way to reconnect with our precolonial culture. I'm utterly horrified the more I look at this image and think about all the people who thought this was acceptable

For anyone interested in further reading

News articles citing art and museum critics disapproval

The screenshotted article with snippets from the Spanish naturalists memoir

History of funerary death masks and thier significance

[muffinrecord]

Not MagiReco, just Life Stuff

I've been doing a lot of reading lately, not just of star mythology books but memoirs from EMTs, Firefighters, and Rangers. Trying to study and get research in for the story I wanna make. I've also been reading a lot about bears which are slowly becoming a favorite animal. How dare bears look so goofy and silly while being so dangerous!!!! Scandal!!!! I've also been reading about cults and stuff, which is also research. Also medical stuff on how to repair injuries if you're in the wilds with no one else coming to help you. My protag is a former EMT so she needs a decent-ish amount of medical backing.

If I do actually start writing my story, and if people notice it, and if I somehow make money off of it, I think my current dream goal is to start a lil fundraiser and donate money to various EMS organizations. Like maybe help fundraise money so that a place can get a new vehicle with state-of-the-art equipment. I can't think of a cooler thing to do.

I think the next few things I wanna start reading about is Alaska, where the story takes place. A friend is helping me with the inside scoop of living there, but it's always good to diversify your sources and learn as much as possible. I've been watching videos and stuff but I just absorb stuff through physical text easiest.

If folks are curious; my story (When the Sun is Gone) is about star-themed magical girls (magical women?) called Celestials. I'd categorize their magical duties more similar to EMT/Firefighter/Ranger work than police/army stuff. I really want to focus on them protecting the community and the kind of struggle that arises from it. The monsters should feel more like a wildfire than a person. There are infections that develop when monsters and humans live too close together, called "lunacy" (cause these monsters formed from the lingering corpse from the dead moon god), and this presents a problem because you gotta cure these people who are going through some issues and might fight back about it. And if you don't cure them in time, they might become fully fledged monsters that they can't come back from. Some of them want to be helped, some of them don't.

There's a dead moon cult up to no good too, which is difficult for the protagonist to deal with. The cult does some negative shit to the outside populace for sure, but the real issue is that the leaders are hurting their own people inside and those victims don't want to be saved because they think this is all for their benefit. How do you help people like that? Do you walk away, even if they're being hurt? Even if they do want to be helped, how do you do it? Sometimes the protag has the best intentions but it goes horribly wrong. You can do everything right and still fail. It's hard to not take that personally or to feel like a failure.

I don't want it to be too much of a bummer of a book though, so balancing failure and winning is going to be a tricky issue. But I think it will be fun. A lot of the research I've been doing is been to prepare for the right mindset for the Celestials to be in and for different ways for my protag do develop burnout and depression akfsjsafklas. Something I've noticed from a lot of the memoirs is that they almost always start out hopefully, optimistic, and anxious about their new job. Then they develop almost an addiction to the crazy nature of it all, to the unpredictability, the out-of-the-box thinking involved in street/wilderness medicine, and to the adrenaline rush. But as it goes on, that becomes burnout, then depression, occasionally suicidal ideation. The lucky ones get out before it becomes irreparable. We always read about the lucky ones because they're the ones who survived to write a book.

That said, it's scary to work on personal projects because of stuff like perfectionism. But if you're too worried about "perfect" then you'll just end up in the situation I'm in, where you never get started lol. But still, it's scary to write something personal and think that someone might read it and be disappointed in it. What if it's just not very good? The other thing that frequently comes up in my head is "am I really the right person to tell this story? What if I get it wrong?" What if I hurt someone's feelings by getting it wrong? What if I say something wildly inaccurate and contribute to misinformation out there? Or what if it's morally wrong to read memoirs about people's tragedies for the sake of your creative writing? I'm "using" a person's life to mine for storytelling material. It feels wrong to do that. Is it okay? Am I doing a bad thing here?

But maybe it's okay to write something that isn't very good, and maybe it's okay if I'm not the "right" person to make it. I don't know. I feel a pull to move my feet forward though, step by step, and see if I can do my best at least.

I think one thing I'm really thankful for from the game and this fandom is that I was just myself and people seemed to like that. I could shout out my loud opinions about stories or gameplay into the void and people would agree or disagree, but they were generally polite and excited.

This is a lil all over the place ajfaslfaf

But-- if you've been checking out the blog, then thanks for being here :) I hope that the upcoming liveblogs will be fun to read. If you decide to hang out and read my stupid lil story in the future, then thank you for giving that a chance too. But no worries if you aren't.

<3

[mxjackparker]

You can now buy copies of Contemporary Prostitution: Study of a Social Question, first published in 1884 (now in English!)

Get yourself a copy from Barnes and Noble (US) or Blackwells (UK) which are retailers that are BDS safe!

Within the book are letters from real 19th century sex workers, long discussions of male prostitution and lesbianism among French sex workers, and the trafficking scandals at the time. You can read criticism of the morality police who both registered and arrested sex workers, see the author discuss the racist fear-mongering around “white slavery” which was later used to justify the criminalization of paying for sex or of prostitution entirely in other countries, and arguments to decriminalize rather than regulate prostitution.

Get more info about the contents here! I translated all 230,00 words from French into English.

If you would like a PDF copy, as the e-book is not yet available, donate £5 or more to my friend's fundraiser for top surgery and I will send it to you! Just DM me your e-mail to send it to you after you donate! https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-sidney-get-top-surgery

[frances-baby-houseman]

There is a fake scandal going around about how Biden's staffers make hyper-detailed prep lists for every event he has, and people are saying it's to cover up cognitive impairment, even though this is standard for every major politician. If you have ever been to a major donor fundraiser, every single movement is calculated down to the minute! my dad is a democratic bundler so I have been to fundraisers as small as 25 people in a private home and as large as 1000 people in a hotel ballroom.

And Joe Biden needs them more than anyone not because of cognitive impairment, but bc he just loves to yak! He will yak your head off. I've met him and he's always running late bc he's just chatting with the people. You gotta keep the principle moving!

Anyway if you see these stories going around they are a non-story meant to distract you! Also you could read the book Great Expectations by Vinson Cunningham (fiction) or Who thought this was a good idea by Alyssa Mastromonaco (memoir), both about Obama, about what campaigns are like and what it is to schedule them.

ok bye bye thanks for coming to my VOTE FOR JOE talk!

[palestinegenocide]

Biden is ‘pristine’ on Israel, says megadonor Haim Saban

We’ve reached the point where Everything that Joe Biden and his mouthpieces say about the Gaza war is a lie.

They say that they deplore civilian deaths in Gaza, and yet they send more money for Israeli munitions and block any effort to hold Israel back, “casting international humanitarian law to the winds.” And when they are pressed about this, Biden’s surrogate Nancy Pelosi says that no American arms have gone to kill Palestinian civilians.

They say that Israel has a strategy to defeat Hamas. It has no strategy. (Even the liberal Zionists admit.) It has only rage and anguish, at the highest level.

They say that this war has given hope to the two-state solution. This is the talking point from Antony Blinken, Jake Sullivan, Chris Coons, Martin Indyk, Tom Friedman, J Street and the State Department. But Netanyahu is dead set against a Palestinian state.

So they say that the problem is Netanyahu – he’s the “pinchpoint,” Senator Coons says — but the Israeli Knesset voted overwhelmingly this week to oppose a Palestinian state.

They say that Biden has argued with Netanyahu about the embarrassing fact that Israel is wantonly killing 10s of thousands of Palestinian civilians. But there is actually No diversity in Israeli leadership over collective punishment, smashing Gaza to bits and mass murder and ethnic cleansing. Over 2/3 of Jewish Israelis oppose humanitarian aid to Gaza.

The State Department and Tom Friedman declare we are just trying to keep alive the dream of normalizing Israel with Arab autocracies so as to spread peace through the bad neighborhood of the Middle East. But Saudi Arabia says it won’t dream of such a thing till Palestinians have sovereignty. And everyone knows that a chief cause of the horrific Hamas attacks on Israeli families in their homes was that the international community was taking Palestinians for granted.

It’s all lies, because Biden knows that the truth will just hurt him. All of America, even evangelicals, are for a ceasefire. Michigan progressives are deserting Biden. The rage is “unprecedented,” even the NY Times says. “The chorus of voices from foreign capitals has grown thunderous in recent days… “

Biden and his friends tell these lies for a simple reason that I talk about to the point of boredom (because so few talk about it). He needs the Israel lobby on his side, way more than he thinks he needs Michigan progressives.

This week Biden had a fundraiser in L.A. co-hosted by Haim Saban – whose only issue is Israel – and a vice-chairman of the ADL— which says that to oppose Zionism makes you an antisemite. Ticket prices, $3,000 to $250,000.

And as Saban told TheWrap, Biden is “pristine” on Israel in these “dire times.”

He’s paying a political price… There’s never been a president as supportive in facts, not only in words, of Israel… [M]ost specifically, in these dire times for Israel, he’s been pristine.

Without the U.S., Israel would be fighting with “sticks and stones.”

These lines from the leading Democratic donor should have been on our airwaves and leading papers. But no, this is a scandal in plain sight because it would just feed the claim that pro-Israel Jews have outsize political influence in the U.S., which everyone knows anyway. And by the way, a PR firm with close links to the White House is an attack dog against journalists who say a kind word about Palestinians.

Biden is pristine because the American Jewish community and Israel are deluded about Israel.

They believe Israel is a robust democracy. No, it is a robust apartheid state– all the human rights organizations affirm– a Jewish supremacist state in which Palestinians have second-class and no-class rights– an order that Palestinians will reject, by any means.

So today Israel perpetrates a likely genocide against those people, killing nearly 30,000 Palestinians, most of them trapped civilians.

And Biden is pristine in his support of this slaughter because he needs political backing in the U.S.

Back in 2015, Obama said that only Israel in all the world was against the Iran deal and it would be an “abrogation” of his constitutional duty if he went with Israel.

Today all the world but Israel wants the slaughter to end, and Biden is abrogating his constitutional duty so as to be pristine in support of Israel.

The difference between Obama and Biden is that Obama was in his second term and could take a stand against the tail wagging the dog. Biden is in his first and cannot. So he and everyone around him just lies.

Thanks for reading,