#gi joe law and order

[blade-liger-4ever]

In accordance with @gritsandbrits’ permission, I now present to you...

G.I. JOE INCORRECT QUOTES!!!!

(Also, I censored the swears. Sorry, I don’t believe in using vulgarities to be funny.)

----

Steeler: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Spell-Lunky: Stepping on a cat's tail and not being able to explain that you're sorry.

----

Law, about Steeler: He’s speaking some kind of French.

Spell-Lunky: Let me handle it. I speak Spanish. It's the same thing.

----

Steeler: HEY HEY HEY! DON’T TOUCH THOSE!

Law, touching a figurine: Why? What’s wrong with touching a doll?

Steeler: THAT IS NOT A DOLL! This is a figurine, thank you very much.

Spell-Lunky, from afar: IT’S JUST A STIFF DOLL!

Law: FIGURINE MY BUTT! IT’S JUST A STIFF DOLL— as said!

Steeler: I hate all of you. That is a limited edition figurine I got from a conventio— Steeler: *Drops figurine on the ground*

Steeler: —n. It was $100; all my money just went down the drain.

----

Genevieve Colton: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.

Duke: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks, I don't want to hear squat.

----

Duke: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Genevieve Colton: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Duke: ...

Duke: You mean ring bearER, right?

Genevieve Colton: ...

Duke: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

----

Genevieve Colton: Duke is playing hard to get.

Genevieve Colton: Little does he know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

----

Gung-Ho: What are you getting Siren Call for the holidays?

Tunnel Rat: I don't know. It's kind of hard buying a gift for your partner when they already got everything they could've ever wanted when they married you. So I'm not sure yet.

Nitelite: I'm getting Siren Call a divorce lawyer.

----

Nitelite: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!

Ripcord: Um...Neat.

*later*

Ripcord, lying face down on his bed: I said "Neat," Siren Call. Who says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm stupid.

Siren Call, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Ripcord. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Tunnel Rat confessed his love for me?

Ripcord: Didn't you thank him?

Siren Call: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I stupidly thanked him.

----

Nitelite: How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Tunnel Rat: *blushing* I—

Gung-Ho, butting into the conversation: Siren Call is perfect, thanks for asking.

(I am now suddenly shipping Gung-Ho and Siren Call XD)

----

Storm Shadow: I think I'm falling for you.

Risa: Then get up.

----

Storm Shadow: Hey, Risa, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Risa: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Storm Shadow: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Risa: Can't really say I have.

Storm Shadow: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring sometimes.

Risa: Sorry, Storm Shadow. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

(Man, this generator is savage...)

----

Risa: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Storm Shadow: I wrote you a poem.

Risa, already crying: You did?

----

Storm Shadow: I’ve been dropping her the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response.

Risa: Wow. She sounds stupid.

Storm Shadow: But she’s not. She’s really smart actually. Just dense.

Risa: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!”

Storm Shadow: I guess you’re right. Hey Risa, I love you.

Risa: See! Just say that!

Storm Shadow: Holy *Japanese swearing*.

Risa: If that flies over her head then, sorry Storm Shadow, but she's too dumb for you.

Storm Shadow: Risa.

----

(They use ASL for these next few)

Silent Knight: How high are you?

Snake Eyes: Mm, I don’t know how to say it in feet.

Spirit: No, she’s asking what drugs are you on.

Snake Eyes: Oh, antidepressants, why?

----

Snake Eyes: We’re playing Scrabble. It’s a nightmare.

Spirit: Scrabble? Scrabble’s great.

Snake Eyes: Not when you’re playing with Silent Knight, it’s not. She puts in words like “ephemeral” and I put in “dog.”

----

Silent Knight: Which way did Snake Eyes go?

Spirit: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess he went left.

Silent Knight: You could really figure it out from that?

Spirit: No, you idiot, Snake Eyes sent me a text. See?

----

Roadblock: Guys, Shawnee is missing.

Heavy Duty: Good.

----

*Casually in the Middle of a High Stakes/Dangerous Situation*

Heavy Duty: How do you eat pickles?

Roadblock: What do you mean?

Heavy Duty: I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes.

Roadblock: Yeah, that's why you use a fork.

Heavy Duty: Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always one of those smaller sharp knives clean.

Roadblock: But the straight edge doesn't really fit the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don' t break it, it's too much work.

Heavy Duty: It makes me feel like I deserve the pickles though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl.

Roadblock: I get that, it's not ascetically pleasing.

Heavy Duty: Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use a mug.

Roadblock: *Nods in agreement*

Shawnee: That is all very interesting, BUT WE'RE TRYING NOT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS!

Heavy Duty: Sheesh, okay.

Roadblock: Quit yelling at us already.

----

Store Worker: Would a “Heavy Duty” please come to the front desk?

Heavy Duty, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker, pointing to Shawnee and Roadblock: I believe they belong to you?

Shawnee and Roadblock, simultaneously: We got lost.

Heavy Duty: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me—

----

And that’s all for now! We’ll see what I can scrounge up - another day!

[hasbr0mniverse]

Shipwreck’s Corner - Law & Order walked a beat in Houston's Fifth Ward for two years before Law decided that there must be a more fulfilling way to be a cop, so he and his canine "Order" enlisted for the MP's. Law is a trained dog-handler with a natural affinity for animals. He is also Airborne qualified.

[nokingsonlyfooles]

“But dissent must never lead to disorder.”

I have too much on my plate right now. Of all the systemic failures that are eating my brain, among them deficiencies in healthcare; deficiencies in the language we use to talk about systemic racism, white privilege, and proximity to whiteness; lack of community, and all the other reasons people don't hear and respond to cries for help with actual help, this is the only one I can muster the energy to express, because it's so simple. I don't even know if it will make me feel better, but I want to SAY it.

This is not how dissent works. If you apply this rule to dissent, you are headed for a dictatorship with no brakes. If you already know that and don't need anyone to unpack it for you, you've identified the problem and you can stop reading right now. For your mental health purposes, please do.

This playbook is older than I am, and someone had a few things to say about in during the "disorder" caused by students agitating for Black rights and an end to the Vietnam War.

Internet Archive isn't exactly stable and I've had some issues getting it to load, but you should be able to find this somewhere for free. It's dated in a lot of places, but we knew. There's the evidence. We've known a long time. We decide the "disorder" was OK after the fact, as indeed we have about Vietnam and Civil Rights. But it sure wasn't OK when it was happening! We needed a Law And Order President to crack down and fix that!

We have such a person in office now, and, barring a total collapse, such a person will be in office after the election. Both candidates want to continue the genocide and both candidates want to silence the protests. Both candidates are subverting the democratic process to get into office, don't ignore the primary shenanigans and lack of choice the DNC is offering us. Both candidates are incompetent and I don't want either of them drooling on the nuclear button, but Biden has competent help, for the moment. He's actually in office, and he can actually do things. He has chosen to stake out a rhetorical middle-ground, while continuing the genocide and letting states tackle the student protests however they want - so far, that means arrests and injuries, and we'll have to wait and see if anyone gets shot.

Trump is SAYING he wants to crack down EVEN HARDER, on EVERYTHING, but your guess is as good as mine whether he'd actually pull it off. If we're caving to the idea that the protests must stop because they're too disorderly, though, that's fine. Why would that not be fine? We're just talking about the matter of degree and how much of a priority "restoring order" is. If the dissent continues (and if the genocide, and the horrors coming out of it continue, why wouldn't the dissent?), more and more people are going to be willing to throw in their lot with whoever they think will make it stop.

We're already killing lots of people for the sake or "order," at home and abroad. It's usually quieter, due to distance and method. Another trans child taking themself out of the equation is almost silent, and easily dismissed as some kind of unfixable personal problem, not a societal issue. And kids in Gaza? Well, we only see 'em in pictures. We don't hafta look. Gunning down college students on American soil is a lot scarier, that looks way more disorderly, that's harder for us to deal with. We prefer not to, but we're willing to do it. We have been and still are, that's part of our national identity, whether you want it or not. You dissent, we kill you for being "disorderly." And maybe we apologize later and give you a national holiday or something, way later. (Have a fun time admiring what's left of the Indigenous cultures that we're still trying to wipe out on this year's Indigenous People's Day!)

If dissent must never lead to disorder, we gotta give back BLM, right away. (And, conservatives, say bye-bye to January 6th and Charlottesville, and Ruby Ridge and whatever else you wanna call "patriotism" or "not as bad.") The Civil Rights movement goes back, too, with MLK and Malcom X together. And there goes Stonewall! Kent State? Justified! Armed Indigenous resistance to their own genocide? Inexcusable! (Same for Palestinian resistance and, indeed, the Jewish Resistance to the Holocaust. If you really wanted to be saved, you'd be better victims.) The Civil War? Well, the South isn't allowed to push back against the President, but neither is the North allowed to invade and infringe on states' rights. Call it a wash! And Dred Scott? Good call! You can't just be escaping from slavery all willy-nilly when it's the LAW. How 'bout that American Revolution? Oooh, yeah. Bad idea. Dredge the tea out of Boston Harbor and get right with King Charles, you freeloaders GOTTA pay your taxes, representation or no! Apologize and dissent better next time!

Ha-ha, of course, this is my autism talking. You don't mean that literally. You don't mean "never," Joe. I'm pickin up what you're layin down! You mean "not when it's inconvenient, and I get to pick."

And that's why we need to preserve the ability to dissent. (Even for the assholes who want to kill me - although I would like their ability to dissent to stop somewhat short of killing me, if we can manage that. I need to be alive to retain my ability to dissent!) If "disorder" is an arbitrary decision for the guys in charge to make, there is no check on their power. They crush what irritates them, and they may continue crushing it as long as they're able to stay on top.

Dictatorship is a fistful of M&Ms and Biden and Trump are two dogs sniffing around to see if they can snork some up when you're not looking. Biden is being a lot quieter about it, while Trump is howling and shitting and distracting. But we don't want either of them to eat the M&Ms! That's not good for them or for any of us!

Autocracy can look very, very orderly on the surface. And, in any case, it is very convenient for everyone not being crushed by it. They can just go on about their lives, knowing the tough decisions are being made for them and any voices trying to get them to think about that will be silenced. Some folks are up for it, as long as they're not the ones on the bottom. But for everyone else, dying for the convenience of others is disorderly AF.

Genocide is disorder. Saying "stop" is basic human decency. It's not stopping, so the message is going to get louder and more chaotic and more damaging, but that's not on the messengers. They can't fight fair. The people in power certainly aren't fighting fair, and they have a lot more weapons at their disposal. Don't give them more. Don't buy that everything's fine and you can quiet down and go on about your business. Don't simplify by designating a good guy and backing whatever he wants to do against the bad guy. When something is wrong, don't ask permission, SAY SO LIKE YOU MEAN IT. If you're going to wait for someone in power to tell you it's okay to push back... they never will.

[gijoe-forever]

By Kirk Bozigian (Kirk Bozigian was arguably the most influential contributor to G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero. He worked on the brand since before the big launch in 1982 and served on and off through 1994, the last year A Real American Hero was on shelves. )

(Ron Rudat was the figure designer behind G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero. From the rebirth of G.I. Joe in 1982 until he moved off of the brand in 1986, every figure sprung from his mind onto the page. He also designed vehicles and decals, books, and the Cobra logo!)

The power of GI JOE! Marketing muscle plus dynamic design was the hallmark of the GI JOE action figure line! Ron Rudat was the artist who breathed life into every character! It was great seeing him at the New England Toy And Record Super Show! YO JOE!

(Both men had their likeness used for the figures, namely leatherneck and law & order)

[abuddyforeveryseason]

This is the Buddy for for April 13th. He's surrounded by family this time.

Here we have him, his twin brother, his older brother Billy Lynch, his oldest brother Tommy Lynch, his sister Sissy Lynch, his dad Elias Lynch (also known was Wally), and his mother, Dolly Lynch (or María de las Dolores).

There's also a younger brother, Baby Lynch, not in the picture (babies are hard to draw).

I was reading an interview with Tom Scioli (the comic book artist) and he talked about his book Godland being a book about a family, with not a lot of room for romance. I haven't finished that series yet, but that's an interesting way to put it, and he says that it was writer Joe Casey's idea - it was an artistic choice that made the book less popular. Although I'm not part of the audience that has any interest in romance, I know some fans are all about it.

So, he moved on to American Barbarian. It's pretty awesome. After that, he started working on Transformers vs GI Joe, and that's really not the type of stuff I'm into. I'm not that into He-Man, either, or Thundarr the Barbarian, but American Barbarian was fun. I still haven't read Transformers vs. GI Joe, maybe it's be good.

The thing is, it seems like some authors, be them comic creators or even movie directors, are creative in their early work, then get stuck making IP adaptations that reduce them to guns for hire, taking orders from the studio, and trying not to offend the fans.

The tyranny of fandom.

I know a lot of people complain about Marvel doing that to creators. You've got horror guys like James Gunn and Sam Raimi, and they're stuck making superhero movies with no gore. What gives? But I kind of think in the case of superhero comics, it's a bit more forgiveable because a lot of pop director nowadays are fans of superhero comics.

Still, I can't really resent people who complain about that.

Just like there's the Oscar carrousel that makes it so people who deserve the Oscar never get it, there's the adaptation carrousel that makes is so adaptations are never any good. In Scioli's case, for instance, you have American Barbarian, which is a great He-Man adaptation - but the actual licensed comics he made aren't as much fun because they're constraining that creative artist to using characters he didn't design, so, what's the point?

And of course, he was free to add a few twists to American Barbarian he wouldn't have been allowed to if it was a licensed comic. Make the main character a bit of a moron, add some gross jokes and postmodern elements...

A clichè example is the Fantastic Four movies. Terrible. But Brad Bird made The Incredibles - the perfect Fantastic Four movie, with different names for the characters. Why did they choose Josh Trank to make that creepy, dark, dull movie in 2015, then? Because he had made a great Akira adaptation a few years earlier, called Chronicle.

There are a lot of other examples. Supreme? Into the Spider-Verse. Kick-Ass? Super. Turok, Son of Stone? Prey. Astro Boy? A. I.

And that happens with a lot of movies, because directors are fans, but the unpleasant realities of copyright law keep them from making the movies they want. So, you've got stuff that's inspired by other stuff, written around the trademakrs, parodies that are better than the original, character interactions that could never happen...

But, the real money's in adaptations. Even if they're not very good. It's a pity, really. And of course, a really big movie has to follow the demands of executives and the audience, more than being a faithful adaptation or a personal vision.

So, if we ever had a movie adaptation of Godland (which is very unlikely anyhow, since it's a cult comic), there'll probably be a romance subplot shoehorned in.

[msclaritea]

California law requires gender-neutral toy sections | The Sacramento Bee

https://www.sacbee.com/opinion/editorials/article282716303.html

DOES ANYONE IN THIS COUNTRY NEED MORE PROOF THAT GOVERNOR GAVIN NEWSOM IS A LITTLE WEF BITCH!? I swear, to God, this man will never be president. For him to even fantasize about leading this country after fraudulently pushing a PAGAN BELIEF as pure science and being on the side of a group after women's rights, spaces and identities, shows just how arrogant Newsom really is.

California orders Big Retail to add gender-neutral toy aisles. That’s just silly!

'..GI Joe in heels..' Just like I warned. Bacha Bazi.

[randomoneshotididwheniwasdrunk]

Weird rant it's about

Barbie &

G.i joe

I feel like a good movie that should have been made in the early 2010s Is a Barbie in GI Joe crossover Think about it because I feel like that would have had a pretty funny plot. Like it's silly but also serious the plot I would make up is Barbie is an undercover agent who disguises herself as many different things and she not working for the government but her own private thing like maybe she is after some super evil but doesn't want the governments to help so that's where the g.I Joe's come in!!!! And they're told by the government that Barbie is a Vigilante super spy who wants to take the law into her own hands and needs to be stopped cause

..............well if this was made in the early 2010s I'm pretty sure they can get away with saying that a woman who isn't at home watching her kids and making meals for her husband is probably up to no good ( by the way it would not a kids film maybe pg-13 or rated R if we want to see Barbie committing real crimes but I ) But I would still want it to be animated!!!! In some type of way! Also it would be a hilarious concept if Barbie had a bunch of Define identities cause duh she's a spy

And it would be hilarious if they tried to intimate her but she just sitting there not batting an eye when they scream orders at her and she just pulls out a magical Item and Bamm she walks out of that base unharmed

But now we got to make them get along cause well.......plot and of course they decided to help her despite her telling them she doesn't want or needs the governments help but their Persistent

Flint: woman you need help you can't do all by yourself

Barbie: I've managed to hold my own for years now I don't need some man in a funny hat and boots telling me what to do

Shipwreck: sweetheart listen up you Need to (grabs her shoulder)

Barbie: (punches him) keep your hands off me

[leelee120000]

BTS Visits the White House

June 7, 2022

Bangtan Sonyeondan [방탄소년단], better known internationally under the initials BTS, visited America on May 31st to meet with President Joe Biden and discuss Asian inclusion, representation, and diversity. They also spoke on anti-Asian hate crimes and discrimination. The visit was coincided with President Biden signing an executive order to reestablish the White House Initiative on Asian Americans, Native Hawaiians, and Pacific Islanders (AANHPI) people and signed the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act into law. BTS’s visit also celebrated the last day of AANHPI History month. 

The visit started with a White House press meeting, after a brief introduction by Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre, BTS members began to speak in turns. Kim Nam-joon (김남준), better known by his stage name RM, was the first. RM is the only BTS member fluent in English and is the group’s leader, this is why he is often the first to speak at important events like this. He said, “Thank you, Karine, for your kind words. And hi, we’re BTS. And it is a great honor to be invited to the White House today to discuss the important issues of anti-Asian hate crimes, Asian inclusion, and diversity.”

Kim Seok-jin (김석진) known by his nickname Jin, the oldest member of BTS, spoke next, “Today is the last day of the AANHPI Heritage Month. We join the White House to stand with the AANHPI community and to celebrate.” 

Park Ji-min (박지민), spoke next. Jimin said, “We were devastated by the recent surge of hate crimes, including Asian American hate crimes.  To put a stop on this and support the cause, we’d like to take this opportunity to voice ourselves once again.”

Jung Ho-seok (정호석), stage name J-Hope, said: “We are here today thanks to our A.R.M.Y. – our fans worldwide – who have different nationalities and cultures and use different languages. We are truly and always grateful.”

ARMY is the acronym for BTS fans, standing for “Adorable Representative M.C. for Youth”. It’s from the more ‘bad boy’ style early BTS had. Fandoms having official names is pretty common throughout the K-Pop industry. When you join the BTS fandom you’re ‘recruited’ into army. Occasionally army is called ‘purple army’ to avoid confusion with the military. Purple is from the famous “I purple you.” quote by V. Essentially a promise to love the fans from a language pun. This is why the color purple and the purple heart emoji is so heavily associated with BTS.

Immediately after J-Hope spoke Jeon Jung-kook (전정국) spoke. Jungkook said: “We still feel surprised that music created by South Korean artists reaches so many people around the world, transcending languages and cultural barriers. We believe music is always an amazing and wonderful unifier of all things.”

Min Yoon-gi (민윤기) know by the stage name Suga (and by the stage name Agust D for his independent work) said, “It’s not wrong to be different. I think equality begins when we open up and embrace all of our differences.”

Kim Tae-hyung (김태형) known by the stage name V said, “Everyone has their own history. We hope today is one step forward to respecting and understanding each and every one as a valuable person.”

Then RM spoke again, “And lastly, we thank President Biden and the White House for giving this important opportunity to speak about the important causes, remind ourselves of what we can do as artists. Once again, thank you very much.”

All non RM quotes are, of course, a translation done by the on-site translator immediately after the members spoke. After the translation the members were ushered out to the Oval Office to have their discussion with President Biden. In the short video released by the White House as a teaser for the full discussion, BTS walked across the lawn RM spoke for the group telling Biden, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. President.” 

“Well welcome to White House, com’on up here guys.” Biden invited them in. His voice continues as the footage fades to BTS sitting in the Oval Office in front of Biden. “This is an impotent month here in America. A lot of our Asian Americans friends have been subjected to real discrimination. Hate only hides,” he points towards BTS, “and when good people talk about it it goes down. So thank you.”

RM speaks, he’s not nervous but he is speaking carefully, “We want to say thank you, sincerely, for your decision like such as signing the Covid 19 Hate Crimes Act into law. So we just want to be a little help and we truly appreciate the White House and the government’s trying to find solutions.”

“People care a lot about what you say,” Biden begins, “and what you’re doing is great for all people. It’s not just your great talent, it’s the message you’re communicating. It matters.”

The video then ends on the White House logo. 

BTS being chosen for such an impressive opportunity is a wonderful reminder of just how far they’ve come since their debut. With multiple UN speeches on youth advocacy and self appreciation they are uniquely qualified for this. Hopefully their messages of love and unity alongside a plea to stop violence against Asian & AANHPI people finds its way into the hearts and minds of those who need to hear it.

LeAnne McPherson

[zooterchet]

Family Licenses (Monk’s Histories)

The Simpsons: Bart takes over the school (6th grade, Pat Stanley is busted as a German Abwehr).

GI Joe: Cobra Trooper, John Charlie, the Charlimeyer alias, American Revolution (”bread pounder”, British spy ring).

Batman: “bombardier”, Robert the Bruce “bruce wayne”, the inventor of the cotton tobacco filter, “Evil” Ernie gets his parents killed by a British actor, WW1.

Green Arrow: President Madison, Fourth President, creator of the “Arrow’s Light” policy, the mistress for the First Lady to produce an MI-6 line, lesbian dominatrix sex for the President before inauguration speech, for a “smooth” delivery.

Secret Six: Jeanette, Dolley Madison’s Mistress.

X-Men: Wolverine, Ace Comics authorship.

Dick Tracy: “The Brow”, self write-in by grandfather, 1930s-40s period.

James Bond 007: Earl of Tyrone, Hugh O’Neill, authorship to trap mother in marriage with father, 1940s, for theft of York’s Bible, only copy outside Papal control, original print.

The Many Saints of Newark: Father’s license, defense attorney forced into Mafia training of slang, never breaks any law; hence, is a terrorist.

Jar Jar Binks: Self write-in, labeling US Presidency, as autistic (serial killer homophobe, ADHD).

Burn Notice: Kicked out of CIA for legalizing pot to ban it, by following orders.  Fails George W. Bush’s Jurgenproops test, for inventing Hippocratic Oath through Clan MacBeth, family.

Gargoyles: Clan MacBeth and Demona.

Law and Order: SVU: Mackelvoy recruits Abe Lincoln to write for series, “Michael Patrick”.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

scoobynatural is like the community-style supernatural episode

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 26 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; ... Chapter 25)

The Last Chapter - May 1946

Emily’s mother frittered about smoothing the creases of Emily’s dress and plucking at non-existent lint.

“Mom, mom...mother!” Emily waved her mother away. “Let it be, I’m fine,” she tried to keep her voice calm.

Her mother took a step back with her mouth pursed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Mom,” Emily raised her eyebrows in warning.

Her mother had the decency to direct her judgmental look at the floor. “It’s just,” she said in a hushed voice, “a divorcee?”

“Yes,” Emily said dryly, somehow this subject continued to come up. Emily probably wouldn’t have told her parents that Nixon was divorced if it could have been avoided. However, between the end of the war and the scramble to prepare for their future, the last year had been a whirlwind. “But let’s not forget, he was also a Captain!” That title had originally excited her parents when she first broke the news of their engagement, before they had learned the wedding had to be postponed until Nixon’s separation from Kathy was finalized.

That reminder seemed to perk Emily’s mother up slightly, “yes, a Captain. It was really quite nice of Lewis’ family to contribute as much as they did,” the compliment sounded obligatory. Emily’s mother would never truly comment on the Nixon’s wealth, it was undignified. But Emily was sure that fact somewhat amended Lewis’ disgraced martial status in her mother’s mind.

“Your father wasn’t pleased about it but you know how he can get. He wants to be the one to give you everything,” her mother continued. Emily began to tune out her mother’s ramblings. Once again she found herself wishing for more female friends so that she didn’t have to endure this time alone with her mother. Unfortunately, her cousins all had babies to attend to and had already excused themselves from the dressing room.

A knock at the door sounded and Emily felt instant relief. Finally, some sort of distraction from her nerves. She moved to open the door but her mother beat her to it. The door opened to the apprehensive face of George Luz, “uh, hi,” he said to Emily’s mother. Then his eyes landed on Emily. George let out a low whistle, “wowza, you look incredible!” he said appreciatively.

Emily blushed and smoothed her skirt, “thank you, George.”

“I got somethin’ here for ya,” George held up an envelope. He glanced at her mother for permission and her mother stepped aside to let him in. “Well,” George said, “Joe had it for ya but it was easier for me to run it over, because, well you know,” he shrugged and handed her the letter heavy with postage.

It was addressed in Marwa’s handwriting; her sweet friend had remained in Europe and was unable to make the trip to Chicago. But Emily and Nixon had made plans to meet up with her over their honeymoon

“Who’s that from, dear?” Emily’s mother asked.

“A friend, remember the nurse?” Emily responded already opening the envelope.

“Which nurse? I don’t remember a particular nurse.. oh that Arab girl?”

Emily shot George a look. “Mrs. Rooney is it?” George interrupted, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!” Emily mouthed her gratitude to him as he directed her mother to the settee. George winked and held up a thumb behind her mother’s back. “You know I’ve never been to Indiana, are there many churches there? I wouldn’t want to go if there wasn’t anywhere to attend mass on Sunday,” George’s flattery faded away as Emily turned her attention to the letter.

Marwa’s beautiful calligraphy transported Emily back to the last time she saw her friend. Their goodbye had been tearful, mostly on Emily’s part. But the friends had stuck to their commitment to write. It was in a letter to Marwa that Emily first put into words Nixon’s unconventional proposal.

Nearly a year ago Emily had stood beside Nixon looking down into the breathtaking Bavarian landscape from a balcony in Hitler’s Eagles Nest.

“Lew,” she placed a cautious hand on his hip, “what’s next for you?” It was a loaded question. Deployment to the Pacific was still an option. Emily was free to return to the states when she pleased but so many things between her and Nixon remained unresolved. The past few weeks had been a dream supplemented by good food and beautiful scenery. Emily had felt hope return to her - hope that extended beyond the end of the war. She wanted to know what life would look like next year, five years from now, and beyond. The first step in preparing for the future was to find out where Nixon saw himself.

Life had returned to Nixon the past few weeks; the receding war and his submission to Emily’s love had begun to heal him. Their time in Bavaria had been a relative heaven, but a temporary heaven.

Nixon pulled his gaze away from the captivating view to look into the grey eyes that had guided him through so much. “Dick and I are going to re-deploy to the Pacific,” he said matter-of-factually. There was no sugar coating it. He and Emily had found their sweet spot of upfront honesty. 


Emily nodded as if she had expected as much, “and then?” she asked.

Nixon had hoped she would ask that. He had seen the footage coming out of the Pacific - he needed her hope to get him out alive, he needed her to have a vision of ‘after’. “Well, I’ll go back to New Jersey, marry you and I don’t know, buy a house or something,” he leaned on the balcony.

An impulsive smile spread across Emily’s face, “marry me? Di- did you just propose to me, Lewis?”

He smirked, “I suppose I did.”

Emily narrowed her eyes playfully at him, “you suppose? Do you even want to marry me?”

“People get married all the time for many different reasons, they’re lucky if it’s for love. You should understand that better than anyone,” Nixon said, “and I love you, so yeah I want to marry you.”

Emily bit her lip to keep the smile from overtaking her face, “well who say’s I want to marry you?”

“If you were smart, you’d marry me now and hope I get blown up over Tokyo. Take me for everything that I’m worth,” Nixon joked darkly.

“Lewis!” Emily smacked his arm. He chuckled. “That’s terrible,” she admonished him, “besides I’m pretty sure Kathy beat me to that.”

“Touche.”

“That is the question though…” Emily’s tone turned serious.

“Yeah,” Nixon turned back to look out onto the landscape, “are you up to waiting for me?”

“I’ve already waited years for you to come around, what’s another few?”

Luckily, they only had to wait a year. Now, Emily found herself standing at the entrance of a grand room dressed in white holding onto her fathers arm for dear life. The loss of the marital sacrament had been a blow to her parents but after a lot of tears they had accepted that their daughter was getting married in a club hall, not a church. Emily couldn’t be bothered where she got married. Planning the wedding had been exhausting and distracting from what she’d actually been interested in planning: the honeymoon. Emily had spent far too much time mediating between her mother and her future mother-in-law.

The first couple of months back in the states, Emily had been a guest at the Nixon’s many properties along the eastern seaboard. New York City had been fun, until her mother came to visit and meet her future in-laws. Though cordial, the mothers seemed to agree on very little. However, they did manage to unite in order to bully Emily into wearing the gaudy ring Lewis had bought her out of obligation.

But Emily didn’t consider that her real engagement ring - it was simply for appearances sake. The ring she would wear as his wife would be a gold band engraved with flora. Nixon and Emily had picked it up in Paris on their way home to the states. That was all Emily had wanted. It was more fitting; a simple testament to how they had grown as individual’s and in their relationship. An ornate diamond strongly juxtaposed the world in which they had fallen in love.

As the wide doors to the hall swung open, Emily’s father squeezed her hand. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. Emily looked up at him in shock but her ever stoic father was already looking straight ahead as if nothing had been said. But his words were monumental, that’s all she had ever wanted to hear from him.

The view down the aisle seemed incredibly long. The people who sat closest to the door were the people Emily knew the least; family friends from her parents church, the Nixons’ obligatory invitees. Emily’s hand grew sweaty around her bouquet as she gritted her teeth into a smile. She didn’t want any of them to see how nervous she was.

She began to relax as her father led her past the faces of her friends who sat closer to the front; her first co-workers from the O.S.S., the grinning faces of Harry Welsh, Frank Perconte and Babe Heffron. Emily’s throat closed with emotion as she passed Bill Guarnere and Joye Toye who wobbled, but leaned on each other, both determined to stand for the bride. Joe Toye smiled and nodded slightly from where he stood, “not just a work-wife,” he whispered jokingly as she passed. Emily’s giggle sounded nervous but confidence surged within her at his acknowledgement. Finally, the view of the altar was clear in Emily’s vision; she saw Dick Winters standing proudly beside Nixon. Suddenly, she felt so overwhelmed by emotion that she could hardly bring herself to look at her future husband.

George Luz was the first person to greet them at the end of the aisle. Emily focused all of her nerves on his steady smile. With a wink, he took Emily’s bouquet and made room for her mother to adjust her train. And then Emily was looking into the face of Lewis Nixon. The rest of the world melted away as he gazed into her sparkling grey eyes.

Everything that had happened to them the last couple of years had culminated into this very moment. It was in the moments without each other’s touch that they had learned to love each other; they had grown wiser with each fight, stronger with each shared moment of vulnerability, and in deprivation they craved only to give the other the world. Neither of them would have expected that they would end this way. That’s because this was by no means an ending; this was the beginning of life renewed.

Nixon took Emily’s trembling hands in his steady ones. “Finally,” he said with a smirk.

The End.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who read this story. This was my first long fanfiction story and all of your support kept me motivated and encouraged to keep writing. Love you all <3

[thecastingcircle]

GI Joe - BeachHead Training (1987)

From “GI Joe: The Movie” Beach Head training the Rawhides.  

Rawhides of ARAH how do I love thee, let me count the ways:

1. You are a return to the diverse, quirky characters of the first season. Chuckles wears a Hawaiian shirt, Tunnel Rat has on camo make up, Big Lob a basketball jersey, Jinx a full ninja uniform.    

How old were you when you realized that Chuckles is the only white man and he has no lines?  

2. Lt. Falcon is missing in action, he’s a Rawhide in name only.  He never interacts with any of the other males in his incoming class of Joes.  Jinx may be his only friend.

3. GI Joe: ARAH did what it does best by giving many characters memorable quirks and notable quotes.  Big Lob gives his life a running commentary, Tunnel Rat games the system, Chuckles is a beast that can not only pick up a missile he can throw it at a tank.  Order is the dog in the old joke about playing fetch with dynamite.  

Notable Quotables:

“Law and Order’s a team.  He finds the bombs, I drive the car.  We tried it the other way, but it didn’t work.”

“As my blind ninja used to say, ‘the keenest eye is that which looks inward.’”  

I didn’t get that line when I was a child, but I understand it now.

4. Beach Head is one crazy SOB.  He complained about Dial-Tone, Lifeline, and Shipwreck in “The Most Dangerous Thing In The World” when live ammo was used in a training drill and then does the same multiple times here.

5. Lt. Falcon avoids Beach Head on purpose. Does he even want to be a Joe?

Yo Joe!

[lobocomicsandtoys]

GI JOE A REAL AMERICAN HERO #277

Published by IDW PUBLISHING Written by Larry Hama Art and cover art by Brian Shearer

"Untold Tales" Part 2! When Cobra infiltrated the secret G.I. Joe operating base in Utah (called "The Pit") the Joes mounted a successful counter-assault to take it back (G.I. Joe ARAH Vol. 9). And now Living Legend Larry Hama reveals the untold tale of human bravery and canine loyalty during that monumental battle... through the eyes of combat MP Law and his best battle-buddy Order! Featuring explosive artwork by longtime G.I. Joe ARAH alum Brian Shearer!

Available at Lobo Comics & Toys this coming Wednesday, 12/30/2020

visit us on facebook, google+, blogspot, our eBay store, and our website

[genvieve-of-the-wood]

How Some Americans Solve Math Problems With Guns

Does counting get easier for you if you fire off rounds and count bullets?

Or is this often the only way you are taken seriously,

by intimidating people with “your right.”

You oppose anyone who is against your right

to carry one of the world’s most efficient killing machines,

in deadly situations like buying laundry detergent or getting your oil changed

or a christening, or maybe throwing a tantrum when democracy is working-

But

you use the efficient killing machine to take away by means of implied use of 

force, the rights of others to carry out the rights others died for,

killed by efficient killing machines held by fascists in a massive power grab, not that long ago,

overseas.

I’m so confused.

If fractions, percentages, and word problems anger you,

do you solve the problems by shooting or intimidating them?

What next, are you going to flash guns to historians and math teachers,

you’ve already threatened scientists and doctors because the science

has saved your life.  How dare they!

I mean..the gall to study epidemiology/immunology and tell people how we can survive. The nerve.

How are your lives not full of holes, unlike your strange arguments

and dishonorable actions for a fair election?

Why do you get to threaten the very process that just might have re-elected

your “business man” emperor?

Why are you acting like bullets will restore the country to a peaceful order,

which is by the way, to your chagrin, always changing, struggling

to move forward and the sad part is-

you cannot stop change, not when it happens to a collective conscience.

Not without pushing you well back to a place where you are not a patriot,

but a terrorist.

If one wishes to impose their vision of a country under “law and order”

by a gun,

by kidnapping,

by running people over,

by detaining without cause,

by stopping a democratic process,

then stop calling yourself defenders of liberty,

and put on

brown shirts

and spit on the graves

of every man, woman, person

who would have loved to have come home from the wars and not worried

about your sad Alpha soldier cosplay/fascist flirting you use as an excuse for your own

(some stolen valor in your ranks, btw,those claiming service in militias and when looked up none is found, or couldn’t pass cop training/ psych evals )

shortcomings as a human being.  

Why do you need a gun to protest counting votes of Americans who might have 

soldiers in their families injured, killed, or worse; actual soldiers who you love

to thank for their service-

but then you play at GI Joe to scare or intimidate other Americans for doing

 their civic duty?

Soldiers who were put in harm’s way by careless and thoughtless statements from your orange-tinged unhinged so-called “swamp drainer?”

And you, those whom have actually served and partake of this dishonor,

this mockery, you of all people should know how great the loss when guns are 

used to take away hard fought for rights. Even if you support your leader, why did you serve?  To intimidate...and that’s all?

If might is right, gun toting math haters, well, I guess you agree you are incapable of pursuing liberty

without taking it away from others. But you know,

you have the guns, the gear, the oversized pick up trucks, the flapping flags, the intel from YouTube (Shrug), right?

You now inspire terror, chaos, and mob rule.

You only reassure those who think boots and bullets used on “others” is reassuring, because they have never had it used on them based on their race, religion or even disability.

Or worst of all, you are members of a cult that is math, science, honest history and democracy phobic. You are creating a mythos around a true narcissist reality television star.

“I voted for the economy! I don’t like him, but we will lose money or my taxes will increase.” Ok, you have made your values

crystal clear. Counting matters to you, but just for you and your bank accounts. You don’t want to point a gun, but you’ll point a finger at boot straps and avoid the uncomfortable conversations about the widening class division and mind your own business when the authoritarianism begins.

All politicians/world leaders/local leaders are imperfect and shouldn’t be put on a pedestal. All should be held accountable. But if you are willing to stop democracy with weapons, threats, intimidation- you should really just stay home on Veteran’s Day. And I dunno, refamiliarize yourself with what you claim to hold so sacred. Talk to those who serve or have served. Most will follow orders, do their sworn duty- but want nothing to do with your methods of “protecting freedom,” because they have no interest in dividing the country further, the country they have families and businesses in. And also maybe do a math fundamentals refresher course. 290 is > 214, for example. Or 279 is still >214.

Math is hard sometimes. But suffering under an authoritarian mindset is harder.

[kirch]

WHEN ATLANTIS RULED THE EARTH [A Film Synopsis]

The title appears in letters that look like blocks of stone piled on top of one another to form a kind of step pyramid. It is followed by shots of the earth as it looked thirty thousand years ago, during the great ice ages, showing woolly mammoths, saber-toothed tigers and Cro-Magnon hunters, while a narrator explains that at the same time the greatest civilization ever known by man is flourishing on the continent of Atlantis. The Atlanteans do not know anything about good or evil, the narrator explains. However, they all live to be five hundred years old and have no fear of death. The bodies of all Atlanteans are covered with fur, as with apes.

After seeing various domestic scenes in Zukong Gi-morlad-Siragosa, the largest and most central city on the continent (but not the capital, because the Atlanteans do not have a government), we move to a laboratory where the young (one hundred years old) scientist GRUAD is displaying a biological experiment to an associate, GAO TWONE. The experiment is a giant water-dwelling serpent-man. Gao Twone is impressed, but Gruad declares that he is bored; he wishes to change himself in some unexpected way. Gruad is already strange—unlike other Atlanteans, he is not covered with fur, but has only short blond hair on top of his head and a close-cropped beard. In comparison to other Atlanteans he seems hideously naked. He wears a high-collared pale green robe and gauntlets. He tells Gao Twone that he is tired of accumulating knowledge for the sake of knowledge. "It's just another guise for the pursuit of pleasure, to which too many of our fellow Atlanteans devote their lives. Of course, there's nothing wrong with pleasure—it moves the energies— but I feel that there is something higher and more heroic. I have no name for it yet, but I know it exists."

Gao Twone is somewhat shocked. "You, as a scientist, can talk of knowing something exists when you have no evidence?"

Gruad is dejected by this and admits, "My lens needs polishing." But after a moment he bounces back. "And yet, even though I have my moments of doubt, I think my lens really is clear. Of course, I must find lie evidence. But even now, before I start, I feel that I know what I will find. We could be greater and finer than we are. I look at what I am and sometimes I despise myself. I'm just a clever animal. An ape who has learned to play with tools. I want to be much more. I say we can be what the lloigor are, and even more. We can conquer time and seize eternity, even as they have. I mean to achieve that or destroy myself in the attempt."

The scene shifts to a banquet hall where INGEL RILD, a venerable Atlantean scientist, has called together prominent Atlanteans to celebrate a space research achievement, the production of a solar flare. Ingel Rild and his associates have developed a missile which, when it strikes the sun, can cause an explosion. He tells the marijuana-smoking gathering, "We can control to the second the timing of the flare and to the millimeter the distance it will spring out from the sun. A flare of sufficient magnitude could burn our planet to a crisp. A smaller flare could bombard the earth with radiations such that the area closest to the sun would be destroyed, while the rest of our world would suffer drastic changes. Most serious of all, perhaps, would be the biological changes these excessive radiations would bring about. Life forms would be damaged and perhaps become extinct. New life forms would arise. All of nature would undergo a tremendous upheaval. This has happened naturally once or twice. It happened seventy million years ago when the dinosaurs were suddenly wiped out and replaced by mammals. We still have much to learn about the mechanism that produces spontaneous solar flares. However, to be able to cause them artificially is a step toward predicting and possibly controlling them. When that stage is reached, our planet and our race will be protected from the kind of catastrophe that destroyed the dinosaurs."

After the applause, a woman named KAJECI asks whether it might not be disrespectful to tamper with "our father, the sun." Ingel Rild replies that man is a part of nature and what he does is natural and can't be construed as tampering. Now Gruad interrupts angrily, pointing out that he, an unattractive mutation, is the product of tampering with nature. He tells Ingel Rild that the Atlanteans do not truly understand nature and the order that controls it. He declares that man is subject to laws. All things in nature are, but man is different because he can disobey the natural laws that govern him. Gruad goes on, "With humanity we can speak, as we speak of our own machines, in terms of performance expected and performance delivered. If a machine does not do what it is designed for, we try to correct it. We want it to do what it ought to do, what it should do. I think we have the right and the duty to demand the same of people—that they perform as they ought to and should perform." An aged and merry-eyed scientist named LHUV KERAPHT interrupts, "But people are not machines, Gruad."

"Exactly," Gruad answers. "I have already considered that. Therefore, I have created new words, words even stronger than should and ought. When a person performs as he or she should and ought, I call that Good; and anything less than this I call Evil." This outlandish notion is greeted with general laughter. Gruad tries to speak persuasively, conscious of his lonely position as a pioneer, trying desperately to communicate with the closed minds all around him. After further argument, though, he becomes threatening, declaring, "The people of Atlantis do not live according to the law. In their pride, they strike the sun itself, and boast of it, as you have, Ingel Rild, this day. I say that if Atlanteans do not live according to the law, a disaster will befall them. A disaster that will shake the entire earth. You have been warned! Heed my words!" Gruad strides majestically out of the banquet hall, seizing his cloak at the door and sweeping it about him as he leaves. Kajeci follows him and tells him that she thinks she partly understands what he has been trying to say. The laws he speaks of are like the wishes of parents, and, "The great bodies of the universe are our parents. Isn't that so?" Gruad's naked hand strokes Kajeci's furred cheek, and they go off into the darkness together.

Within six months Gruad has formed an organization called the Party of Science. Their banner is an eye inside a triangle which in turn is surrounded by a serpent with its tail in its mouth. The Party of Science demands that Atlantis publish the natural laws Gruad has discovered and make them binding on all with systems of reward and punishment to enforce them. The word "punishment" is another addition to the Atlantean vocabulary coined by Gruad. One of Gruad's opponents explains to friends of his that it means torture, and everyone's fur bristles. Ingel Rild announces to a gathering of his supporters that Gruad has proven to his own satisfaction—and the demonstration runs to seventy-two scrolls of logical symbols—that sex is part of what he calls Evil. Only sex for the good of the community is to be permitted under Gruad's system, to keep the race alive.

A scientist called TON LIT exclaims, "You mean we must be thinking about conception during the act? That's impossible. Men's penises would droop, and women's vaginas wouldn't get moist. It's like—well, it's like making the shrill mouth-music while you are urinating. It would take great training, if it can be done at all." Ingel Rild proposes the formation of a Party of Freedom to oppose Gruad. Discussing Gruad's personality, Ingel Rild says he checked the genealogical records and found that several of the most agitated-energy people in all Atlantean history were among his ancestors. Gruad is a mutation, and so are many of his followers. The energy of normal Atlanteans flows slowly. Gruad's people are impatient and frustrated, and this is what makes them want to inflict suffering on their fellow humans.

Joe sat up with a jolt. If he understood that part of the movie, Gruad—evidently the first Illuminatus—was also the first homo neophilus. And the Party of Freedom, which seemed to be the origin of the Discordian and JAM movements, was pure homo neophobus. How the hell could that be squared with the generally reactionary attitude of current Illuminati policies, and the innovativeness of the Discordians and JAMs? But the film was moving on—

In a disreputable-looking tavernlike place where men and women smoke dope in pipes that they pass from one to another, while people grope in couples and groups in dark corners, SYLVAN MARTISET proposes a Party of Nothingness that rejects the positions of both the Party of Science and the Party of Freedom. After this we see street fighting, atrocities, the infliction of punishment on harmless people by men wearing Gruad's eye-and-triangle badge. The Party of Freedom proclaims its own symbol, a golden apple. The fighting spreads, the numbers of the dead mount and Ingel Rild weeps. He and his associates decide on a desperate expedient—unleashing the lloigor Yog Sothoth. They will offer this unnatural soul-eating energy being from another universe its freedom in return for its help in destroying Gruad's movement. Yog Sothoth is imprisoned in the great Pentagon of Atlantis on a desolate moor in the southern part of the continent. The Atlantean electric plane bearing Ingel Rild, Ton Lit and another scientist drifts, trailing feathery sparks, to a landing in a flat field overgrown with gray weeds. Within the Pentagon, an enormous black stone structure, the ground is scorched and the air shimmers like a heat mirage. Flickers of static electricity run through the shimmering from time to time, and an unpleasant noise, like flies around a corpse, pervades the whole moor. The faces of the three Atlantean sages register disgust, sickness and terror. They climb the nearest tower and talk to the guard. Suddenly Yog Sothoth takes control of Ton Lit, speaking in an oily, rich, deep and reverberating voice, and asks them what they seek of him. Ton Lit lets out a terrible shriek and claps his hands over his ears. Froth slips from the side of his mouth, his fur bristles and his penis stands erect. His eyes are delirious and suffering, like those of a dying gorilla. The guard uses an electronic instrument that looks like a magician's wand topped with a five-pointed star to subdue Yog Sothoth. Ton Lit bays like a hound and leaps for Ingel Rild's throat. The electronic ray drives him back and he stands panting, tongue hanging loose, as the Pentagon first and then the ground begin to soften into asymptotic curves. Yog Sothoth chants, "la-nggh-ha-nggh-ha-nggh-fthagn! la-nggh-ha-nggh-ha-nggh-hgual! The blood is the life ... The blood is the life ..." All faces, bodies and perspectives are skewed and there is a greenish tinge on everything. Suddenly the guard strikes the nearest wall of the Pentagon directly with his electronic wand and Ton Lit shrieks, human intelligence coming back into his eyes together with great shame and revulsion. The three sages flee the Pentagon under a sky slowly turning back to its normal shape and color. The laughter of Yog Sothoth follows them. They decide that they cannot release the lloigor.

Meanwhile Gruad has called his closest followers, known as the Unbroken Circle of Gruad, to announce that Kajeci has conceived. Then he shows them a group of manlike creatures with green, scaly skin, wearing long black cloaks and black skullcaps with scarlet plumes. These he calls his Ophidians. Since At-lanteans have a kind of instinctive check on themselves that prevents them from killing except in blind fury, Gruad has developed these synthetic humanoids from the serpent, which he has found to be the most intelligent of all reptiles. They will have no hesitation about destroying men and will act only on Gruad's command. Some of his followers protest, and Gruad explains that this is not really killing. He says, "Atlanteans who will not accept the teachings of the Party of Science are swinish beings. They are a sort of robot who has no inner spiritual substance to control it. Our bodies, however, are deceived into feeling as if they are our own kind, and we cannot raise our hands against them. Now, however, the light of science has given us hands to raise." At this meeting Gruad also addresses his men for the first time as the "illuminated ones." At the next meeting of the Party of Freedom the Ophidians attack, using iron bars to club people to death and slashing throats with their fangs. Then the Party of Freedom holds a funeral for a dozen of its dead at which Ingel Rild gives an oration describing the ways in which the struggle between Gruad's followers and the other Atlanteans is changing the character of all human beings:

"Hitherto, Atlanteans have enjoyed knowledge but not worried over the fact that there is much that we do not know. We are conservative and indifferent to new ideas, we have no inner conflicts and we feel like doing the things that seem wise to us. We think that the things we feel like doing will usually work out for the best. We consider pain and pleasure a single phenomenon, which we call sensation, and we respond to unavoidable pain by relaxing or becoming ecstatic. We do not fear death. We can read each other's minds because we are in touch with all the energies of our bodies. The followers of Gruad have lost that ability, and they are thankful that they have. The Scientists dote on new things and new ideas. This love of the new thing is a matter of genetic manipulation. Gruad is even encouraging people in their twenties to have children, though it is our custom never to have children before we reach a hundred. The generations of Gruad's followers come thick and fast, and they are not like us. They agonize over their ignorance. They are full of uncertainty and inner conflict between what they should do and what they feel like doing. The children, who are brought up on Gruad's teachings, are even more disturbed and conflict-filled than their parents. One doctor tells me that the attitudes and the way of life Gruad is encouraging in his people is enough to shorten their life spans considerably. And they are afraid of pain. They are afraid of death. And even as their lives grow shorter, they desperately seek for some means of achieving immortality."

Gruad tells a meeting of his Unbroken Circle that the tune has come to intensify the struggle. If they can't rule the Atlanteans, they will destroy Atlantis. "Atlantis will be destroyed by light," says Gruad. "By the light of the sun." Gruad introduces the worship of the sun to his followers. He reveals the existence of gods and goddesses. "They are all energy, conscious energy," says Gruad. "This conscious and powerfully directed and focused pure energy I call spirit. All motion is spirit. All light is spirit. All spirit is light." Under Gruad's direction, the Party of Science builds a great pyramid, thousands of feet high. It is in two halves; the upper half, made of an indestructible ceramic substance and inscribed with a terrible staring eye, floats five hundred feet above the base, held in place by antigravity generators. A band of men and women led by LILITH VELKOR, chief spokeswoman for the Party of Nothingness, gathers at the base of the great pyramid and laughs at it. They carry Nothingarian signs:

DON'T CLEAN OUR LENSES, GRUAD— GET THE CRACK OUT OF YOUR OWN

EVERY TIME I HEAR THE WORD "PROGRESS" MY FUR BRISTLES

THE SUN SUCKS FREEDOM DEFINED IS FREEDOM DENIED

THE MESSAGE ON THIS SIGN IS A FLAT LIE

Lilith Velkor addresses the Nothingarians, satirizing all Gruad's beliefs, claiming that the most powerful god is a crazy woman and she is the goddess of chaos. To the accompaniment of laughter she declares, "Gruad says the sun is the eye of the sun god. That's more of his notion that males are superior and reason and order are superior. Actually, the sun is a giant golden apple which is the plaything of the goddess of chaos. And it's the property of anyone she thinks is fair enough to deserve it." Suddenly a band of Ophidians attacks followers of Lilith Velkor and kills several of them. Lilith Velkor leads her people in an unprecedented attack on the Ophidians. They storm up the side of the great pyramid and throw the Ophidians down to the street, killing them. Amazingly, they succeed in wiping out all the Ophidians. Gruad declares that Lilith Velkor must die. When the opportunity presents itself, his men seize her and take her to a dungeon. There an enormous wheel has been constructed with four spokes in the shape [of a modern "Peace" sign]

Lilith Velkor is crucified with ropes, upside down, on this device. Several members of the Party of Science lounge about, watching her die. Gruad enters, goes to the wheel and looks at the dying woman, who says, "This is as good a day to die as any." Gruad remonstrates with her, saying that death is a great evil and she should fear it. She laughs and says, "All my life I have despised tradition and now I despise innovation also. Surely, I must be a most wicked example for the world!" She dies laughing. Gruad's rage is unbearable. He vows that he will wait no longer; Atlantis is too wicked to save and he will destroy it.

On a windswept plain in the northern regions of Atlantis a huge teardrop-shaped rocket with graceful fins is poised on the launching pad. Gruad is in the control room making last-minute adjustments while Kajeci and Wo Topod argue with him. Gruad says, "The human race will survive. It will survive the better purged of these Atlanteans, who are nothing but swine, nothing but robots, nothing but creatures who do not understand good and evil. Let them perish." His finger strikes a red button and the rocket hurtles on its way to the sun. It will take several days to reach there, and meanwhile Gruad has gathered the Unbroken Circle on an airship which takes them away from Atlantis and into the huge mountains to the east in a region that will one day be called Tibet. Gruad calculates that by the time the missile strikes the sun, they will have been landed and underground for two hours. The sun rides blinding yellow over the plains of Atlantis. It is a beautiful day in Zukong Gimorlad-Siragosa, the sun shining down on its slender, graceful towers with spiderweb bridges spiraling among them, its parks, its temples, its museums, its fine public buildings and magnificent private palaces. Its handsome, richly furred people gracefully stride amidst the beauties of the first and finest civilization man has ever produced. Families, lovers, friends and enemies, all unsuspecting what is about to happen, enjoy their private moments. A quintet plays the melodious zinthron, balatet, mordan, swaz and fen-drar. Over all, however, the great eye on the side of Gruad's pyramid glares horrid and red.

Suddenly the sun's body rages. Coiled flames, balls of gas, roll out. The sun looks like a giant fiery arachnid or octopus. One great flame comes rolling toward the earth, burning red gas which turns yellow, then green, then blue, then white.

There is nothing left of Zukong Gimorlad-Siragosa, except the pyramid with its upper segment now resting on the base, the antigravity generators having been destroyed. The baleful eye looks out over an absolutely flat, burnt-black plain. The ground shakes, great cracks open. The blackened area is a great circle, hundreds of miles in diameter, beyond which is a dark brown and still desolate wasteland. Thousands of cracks appear in the brittle surface of the continent, the strength of whose rocks has been destroyed by the incredible heat of the solar flare. A tide of mud starts crawling over the empty plain. It leaves only the top of the pyramid, with the great eye, showing. Water sweeps over the mud, at first sinking in and standing in pools, then rising higher so that only the tip of the pyramid sticks out of a great lake. Under the water enormous parallel fissures open in the ground on either side of the blackened central circle. The midsection of the continent, including the pyramid, begins to sink. The pyramid falls into the depths of the ocean with cliffs rising on either side of it to the parts of Atlantis that still remain above the ocean. They will remain for many thousands of years more, and they will be the Atlantis remembered in the legends of men. But the true Atlantis—high Atlantis—is gone.

Gruad stares into his crimson-glowing viewplate, watching the destruction of Atlantis. The light changes color, from red to gray, and the face of Gruad turns gray. It is a terrible face. It has aged a hundred years in the last few minutes. Gruad may claim to be in the right, but deep down he knows that what he has done isn't nice. And yet deep down there is satisfaction, too, for Gruad, long tortured by unreasonable guilt, now has something he can really feel guilty about. He turns to the Unbroken Circle and proposes, since it appears that the earth will survive the cataclysm (he was not really sure that it would), that they plan for the future. Most of them, however, are still in shock. Wo Topod,; inconsolable, stabs himself to death, the first recorded time that a member of the human race has deliberately killed himself. Gruad calls upon his followers to destroy all remains of the Atlantean civilization and then, later, to build a perfect civilization when even the ruins of Atlantis have been forgotten. The great beasts that inhabited Europe, Asia and North America die off as a result of mutations and diseases caused by the solar flare. All relics of the Atlan-tean civilization are destroyed. The people who were Gruad's erstwhile countrymen are either killed or driven forth to wander the earth. Besides Gruad's Himalayan colony there is one other remnant of the High Atlantean era: the Pyramid of the Eye, whose ceramic substance resisted solar flare, earthquake, tidal wave and submersion in the depths of the ocean. Gruad explains that it is right that the eye should remain. It is the eye of God, the One, the scientific-technical eye of ordered knowledge that looks down on the universe and by perceiving it causes it to be. If an event is not witnessed, it does not happen; therefore, for the universe to happen there must be a Witness. Among the primitive hunters and gatherers a mutation has appeared that seems to be spreading rapidly. More and more people are being born without fur and with hair in the same pattern as Gruad's. The Hour of God's Eye has caused mutations in every species.

From the Himalayas the rocket ships of the Unbroken Circle, painted red and white, swoop out in squadrons. They sweep across Europe and land on the brown islands where Atlantis used to be. There they land and raid a city of refugees from the Atlantean disaster. They kill many of the leaders and intellectuals and herd the rest aboard the ships, fly to the Americas and deposit the helpless people on a vast plain. Far below their route of passage lies the Pyramid of the Eye at the bottom of the Atlantic. The base of the pyramid is covered with silt and the break where the upper part of the pyramid had floated on antigravity projectors is also covered. Still the pyramid itself towers over the mud around it, taller by three times than the Great Pyramid of Egypt, the building of which lies twenty-seven thousand years in the future. A vast shadow descends upon the pyramid. There is a suggestion in the darkness of the ocean bottom of giant tentacles, of sucker disks wide as the rims of volcanos, of an eye as big as the sun looking at the eye on the pyramid. Something touches the pyramid, and enormous as it is, it moves slightly. Then the presence is gone.

The pentagonal trap in which the people of Atlantis had heroically and brilliantly caught the dread ancient being Yog Sothoth has been, amazingly, undamaged by the catastrophe. Being on the southern plain, which was relatively uninhabited, the Pentagon of Yog Sothoth becomes the center of a migration of people who survived the disaster. Emergency cities are set up, those dying of radiation sickness are treated. A second Atlantis begins to take root. And then, from the Himalayas, the ships of the Unbroken Circle come swooping down on one of their raids. Lines of Atlantean men and women are marched to the walls of the Pentagon and there mowed down by laser fire. Then explosive charges are placed amid the heaps of bodies and the masked, uniformed men of the Unbroken Circle withdraw. There is a series of explosions; horrid yellow smoke goes coiling up. The gray stone walls crumble. There is a moment of stillness, balance, tension. Then the piled-up boulders of one side of the wall fly apart as if thrust by the hand of a giant. An enormous claw print appears in the soft soil around the ruins of the Pentagon. The masked men of the Unbroken Circle race frantically for their ships and take off. The ships dart into the sky, stop suddenly, waver and plummet like stones to explosive crashes on the earth. The surviving refugees scream and scatter. Like a scythe going through wheat, death sweeps among them in great arcs as they run in massed mobs. Mouths open in soundless screams, they fall. Only a handful escapes. Over the scene a colossal reddish figure of indeterminate shape and number of limbs stands triumphant.

In the Himalayas, Gruad and the Unbroken Circle watch the destruction of the Pentagon and the massacre of the Atlanteans. The Unbroken Circle cheers, but Gruad strangely weeps. "You think I hate walls?" he says. "I love walls. I love any kind of wall. Anything that separates. Walls protect good people. Walls lock away the evil. There must always be walls and the love of walls, and in the destruction of the great Pentagon that held Yog Sothoth I read the destruction of all that I stand for. Therefore I am stricken with regret."

At this the face of EVOE, a young priest, takes on a reddish glow and a demoniac look. There is more than a hint of possession. "It is good to hear you say that," he says to Gruad. "No man yet has befriended me, though many have tried to use me. I have prepared a special place for your soul, oh first of the men of the future." Gruad attempts to speak to Yog Sothoth, but the possession has apparently passed, and the other members of the Unbroken Circle praise a new beverage that Evoe has prepared, made of the fermented juice of grapes. At dinner, later that day, Gruad tries the new beverage and praises it, saying, "This juice of grapes relaxes me and does not cause the disturbing visions and sounds that makes the herb the Atlanteans used to smoke so unpleasant for a man of conscience." Evoe gives him more to drink from a fresh jar, and Gruad takes it. Before drinking he says, "Any culture that arises in the next twenty thousand years or so is going to have the rot of Atlantis in it. Therefore I decree a noncultural time of eight hundred generations. After that we may allow man free reign on his propensity for building civilizations. The culture he builds will be under our guidance, with our ideas implicit in its every aspect, with our control at every stage. Eight hundred generations from now the new human culture will be planted. It will follow the natural law. It will have the knowledge of good and evil, the light that comes from the sun, the sun that blasphemers say is only an apple. It is no apple, I tell you, though it is a fruit, even as this beverage of Evoe's that I now quaff is from a fruit. From the grape comes this drink and from the sun comes the knowledge of good and evil, the separation of light and darkness over the whole earth. Not an apple, but the fruit of knowledge!" Gruad drinks. He puts down his glass, clutches his throat and staggers back. His other hand goes to his heart. He topples over and lies on his back, his eyes staring upward.

Naturally, everyone accuses Evoe of poisoning Gruad. But Evoe calmly answers that it was Lilith Velkor who did it. He was doing research on the energies of the dead and had learned how to take them into him. But sometimes the energies of the dead could take control of him, so that he would be just a medium through which they act. He cries, "When you write this tragedy into the archives, you must say, not that Evoe the man did it, but Evoe-Lilith, possessed by the evil spirit of a woman. The woman did tempt me, I tell you! I was helpless." The Unbroken Circle is persuaded, and agree that since Lilith Velkor and the crazy goddess she worshipped were responsible for Gruad's death, henceforward women must be subordinate to men so such evils will not be repeated. They decide to build a tomb for Gruad and to inscribe upon it, "The First Illuminated One: Never Trust A Woman." They decide that since the lloigor is loose they will offer sacrifices to it, and the sacrifices will be pure young women who have never lain with a man. Evoe seems to be taking control of the group and Gao Twone protests this. To prove his dedication to the true and the good, Evoe declares, he has had his penis amputated as a sacrifice to the All-Seeing Eye. He pulls open his robe. All look at his truncated crotch and immediately retch. Evoe goes on, "Furthermore, it is decreed by the Eye and Natural Law that all male children who would be close to goodness and truth must imitate my sacrifice, at least to the extent of losing the foreskin or being cut enough to bleed." Kajeci comes in at this point, and they plan a great funeral, agreeing that they will not burn Gruad as was the Atlantean custom, signifying that one is dead forever, but will preserve his body, symbolizing the hope that he is not really dead but will rise again.

There follow several thousand years of warfare between the remnants of the Atlanteans and the inhabitants of Agharti, the stronghold of the Scientists, who now call themselves variously the Knowledgeable or the Enlightened Ones. The last remnants of the Atlantean culture are destroyed. Great cities were built, then destroyed by nuclear explosions. All the inhabitants of the city of Peos are killed in one night by the eater of souls. Chunks of the continent break off and sink into the sea. There are earthquakes and tidal waves. Finally, only outcroppings like the cone-shaped island of Fernando Poo rise alone from the sea where Atlantis had been.

About 13,000 B.C. a new culture is planted on a hillside near the headwaters of the Euphrates and it starts to spread. A tribe of Cro-Magnons, magnificently tall, strong, large-headed people, is marched at gunpoint down from the snows of Europe to the fertile lands of the Middle East. They are taken to the site chosen for the first agricultural settlement and shown how to plant crops. For several years they do so while the Unbroken Circle's men guard them with flame throwers. Their generations pass rapidly, and once the new way of life has taken hold the Illuminated Ones leave them alone. The tribe divides into kings, priests, scribes, warriors, and farmers. A city surrounded by farms rises up. The kings and priests are soft, weak and fat. The peasants are stunted and dulled by malnutrition. The warriors are big and strong, but brutal and unintelligent. The scribes are intelligent, but thin and bloodless. Now the city makes war on neighboring tribes of barbarians. Being well organized and technologically superior, the people of the city win. They enslave the barbarians and plant other cities nearby. Then a great tribe of barbarians comes down from the north and conquers the civilized people and burns their city. This is not the end of the new civilization, though. It only revitalizes it. Soon the conquerors have learned to play the roles of kings, priests and warriors, and now there is a kind of nation consisting of several cities with a large body of armed who must be kept occupied. Marching robotlike in great square formations, they set out over the plain to find new peoples to conquer. The sun shines down on the civilization created by the Illuminati. And below the sea the eye on the pyramid glares balefully upward.

THE END

Copyright © 1983 by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson

[salixj]

Joe Sommerlad,The Independent•June 12, 2019

Anne Frank, the Jewish schoolgirl whose diaries of her time in hiding during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands stand as one of the most significant documents to arise from the Holocaust, would have celebrated her 90th birthday on 12 June.

The Frank family had relocated to Amsterdam in 1934 to escape rising antisemitism in their native Frankfurt, part of a mass exodus that saw some 300,000 Jews flee Adolf Hitler's Germany between 1933 and 1939.

Settling in an apartment on Merwedeplein in the neighbourhood of Rivierenbuurt, Otto and Edith Frank and their daughters Margot and Anne adjusted to their new surroundings relatively comfortably at first.

Otto Frank supported his family by working for Opteka Works, a company which produced a gelling agent used for making jam, before starting a second business known as Pectacon selling herbs, pickling salts and spices. Anne attended a Montessori school, learned Dutch and easily made friends, demonstrating a particular aptitude for reading and writing.

Following the outbreak of the Second World War, Hitler’s Germany took the Netherlands on 15 May 1940, the occupying government moving quickly to introduce the same prejudicial laws the Franks had already been subjected to in Frankfurt, including mandatory registration and public segregation. Jews were barred from public transport, parks, cinemas and non-Jewish shops and made to wear a Star of David to identify themselves.

When the state attempted to confiscate Otto’s businesses, he transferred his shares to a gentile friend, Johannes Kleiman, and resigned as director. Another friend, Jan Gies, assumed control of assets belonging to Opteka and Pectacon, allowing Otto’s interests to survive.

Margot and Anne had meanwhile been removed from their respective schools and sent to the Jewish Lyceum. Unnerved but undeterred, Anne celebrated her 13th birthday and received a red-and-white plaid autograph book, an item she planned to use as a diary to record her thoughts and feelings.

A month later, Margot received a letter from the Central Office for Jewish Emigration ordering her to report to a labour camp.

On 6 July 1942, Otto Frank moved the family into a secret annexe he had furnished at the rear of his workplace on Prinsengracht with a view to using it as an emergency hiding place. They were soon joined in their three-floor hideaway, its entrance concealed behind a bookcase, by Hermann, Auguste and Peter van Pels and then in November by Fritz Pfeffer, a dentist and friend of the family.

Klieman and Gies would again come to the family’s aid, the pair part of a trusted circle who knew the truth about the Franks’ sudden disappearance that also included Jan’s wife Miep, Johan Voskuijl, the latter’s daughter Bep and Victor Kugler, employees of the firm. This collective would support the Franks, Van Pels and Pfeffer throughout their confinement, supplying them with food and news of the war.

Until the Gestapo stormed the annexe on 4 August 1944, arresting the occupants, jailing their assistants and dispatching the Frank family to Auschwitz-Birkenau, Anne found solace in her diary.

In addressing the journal directly as “Dear Kitty”, as though composing a letter, Anne was actually imagining writing to Kitty Francken, a fictional character recurring in Cissy van Marxveldt’s popular series of Joop ter Heul books for young girls that appeared between 1919 and 1925.

In it, she recorded her most intimate thoughts and feelings. “I feel bad for lying in a warm bed, while my dearest friends are out there somewhere, thrown or fallen to the ground. And that only because they are Jews,” she wrote on 19 November 1942.

She recounted her tensions with her roommate, Pfeffer, with whom she fought for access to their shared writing desk, the older man wanting it for his study of foreign languages. “Stay calm, this fellow isn’t worth worrying your head about!” Anne wrote in exasperation on 13 July 1943, later detailing his petulant refusal to speak to her for two days or sit with her at dinner after a falling out.

Anne had covered the bare walls of their room with photographs of Hollywood movie stars and royalty clipped from magazines like Libelle. Those pictures of women like Norma Shearer, Greta Garbo and the princesses Elizabeth and Margaret offer a glimpse of the dreamworld in which she lived and her teenage fantasies of how her life might turn out after the war was won.

Just last year, we learned something new about her developing sexuality during the period when the Anne Frank House used new digital scanning technology to read behind the brown paper she had pasted over entries she was embarrassed by. The secret passages found Anne musing on the mechanics of sex, contraception, menstruation and prostitution.

Anne was also an astute observer of everything that went on as cabin fever set in between her family and the Van Pels: “Daddy goes about with his lips tightly pursed, when anyone speaks to him, he looks up startled, as is he is afraid he will have to patch up some tricky relationship again... Quite honestly, I sometimes forget who we are quarrelling with and with whom we’ve made it up.”

Anne often feuded with her mother during their two years cooped up together, Edith more inclined towards despair than her daughter. The Van Pels also fought while Margot was more withdrawn, quietly keeping a diary of her own.

When she heard a Radio Oranje broadcast from the Dutch government in exile in London appealing for citizens to keep hold of their records of the war, Anne was inspired to rewrite her journal entries into a consistent narrative, calling it Het Achterhuis (The Secret Annexe).

She later reflected on the importance of committing her inner life to paper, writing on 5 April 1944: “No one who doesn’t write can know how fine it is. And if I don’t have the talent to write for newspapers or books, well then I can always go on writing for myself.”

Anne Frank would no doubt have been both delighted and stunned to learn of the publishing sensation her diary would become after it was salvaged by Miep Gies and Bep Voskuijl following her death from typhus at Bergen-Belsen in February 1945, aged just 15.

Her father was the only member of the family to survive the Holocaust and only came to read his youngest daughter’s prodigious output in the aftermath of the Allied victory, deeply moved by the realisation of how integral it had been to her endurance.

Otto Frank ensured The Diary of a Young Girl reached publication in 1947 - it would be read around the world and translated into 70 languages - but returned to Amsterdam only to marry a fellow survivor, Elfriede Geiringer, living the rest of his life in Basel, Switzerland. Staying on was just too painful.