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mikeywayarchive · 2 months ago

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SDCC 2024: Mikey Way Rings in Holidays All Year Long with Christmas 365 (Interview)

By Justin Epps - Published Sep 7, 2024

Dark Horse Comics

☰ SUMMARY

• Christmas 365 from Dark Horse Comics releases this year, a festive series about a family celebrating Christmas all year round. • Co-writer Mikey Way talks about the nostalgia and magic of Christmas, and the importance of family in his work. • Way collaborates with Jonathan Rivera and Piotr Kowalski to craft a dream project embracing the 80s/90s Christmas movie feel.

Full interview under the cut:

Christmas has come early for Dark Horse Comics readers. During this year’s San Diego Comic-Con, the publisher revealed it would be releasing Christmas 365 later this year. This festive new series comes from the creative team of Mikey Way, Jonathan Rivera, Piotr Kowalski, Brad Simpson, and Joshua Reed.

Christmas 365 tells the story of a family who has gone through a particularly challenging year and their attempts to come back together through a Christmas season that lasts the whole year round. Screen Rant caught up with Christmas 365 co-writer Mikey Way and dug into his thoughts behind this unique holiday story.

Screen Rant: From the premise I'm guessing you're a big fan of Christmas. But why Christmas 365?

Mikey Way: As a child of the 80s, a lot of my favorite movies were Christmas movies. I think the holiday stuck with me, the the mythology of it, the imagery really resonated with me. I know I'm not alone on this, the world is obsessed with Christmas. You go in stores and the Christmas stuffs out in August. It was after 9/11 I noticed Christmas started earlier at the store. I remember taking a mental note of that. People needed it at that time. I feel like with social media people have been able to express their love of Christmas and find like-minded people that are like-minded. There's Christmas podcasts, there's Christmas basements.

Mikey Way: Anyway, child of the 80s. Christmas Story, Scrooged, Christmas Vacation, Gremlins, Die Hard, Santa Claus: The Movie, all those great Jim Henson movies. These were important stories to me. And so I've always had that itch in me to tell a Christmas story. And I think it was around 2013 I watched a bunch of Christmas movies in a row and it wasn't Christmas time, it was summertime, I think. I remember watching Home Alone and Christmas Vacation and being like "What stories are left to tell?". Then it hit me like a bolt. "What about a family that're kind of disconnected and one of them gets the the wild idea to celebrate it all year long?". Like that's gonna fix everything.

With Christmas, there's this effort to see the world through the eyes of a child and recapture that feeling of wonderment. Is that what you wanted from your story?

Mikey Way: It's the one month out of the year where you can forget about life's pressures a little bit. And there's wonder and magic and hope and promise. Especially when you have children. It's the Super Bowl. For a child things revolve around "Christmas is coming!". So getting to see it through my two girls' eyes...that's what it's all about. There's so many layers to it. It's a layered holiday. But it's just something that's so great. In a world full of gloom and doom, it's something that's just awesome and great. Like there's a velvet cloud around you in December. Even November.

Mikey Way: There's there's a lot of bad stuff that happens in the world. People get busy, people get stressed, people have responsibilities. And it's the time where you can celebrate being a family, celebrate the people you love, and you could show them how much you love them.

You're co writing this with Jonathan Rivera. Both of you guys did books for DC Young Animal which was definitely a more experimental line, but you guys are trying to tell a more grounded story here, correct?

Mikey Way: We're very like-minded. He went to art school with my brother. We all like the same stuff. Trainspotting, Britpop, Stone Temple Pilots, The Crow, action figures, X-Men, anime. Jon was a kindred spirit. He's one of my best friends in the world. He's someone I wanted to write a story with. This was the perfect opportunity because he feels the same way about this 80s/90s Christmas story. He's got the same itch to scratch.

Your previous book, Collapser, had a real strong family theme to it, which seems carry on in Christmas 365. What is it about family that speaks to you so strongly in your work?

Mikey Way: Family's everything. As you get older you start to realize that. And it plays into the holiday of Christmas. When it comes down to the family's all you got. You can have an important job. You can have all the material possessions in the world. You could have fancy this and that. But when it comes down to it, who's sitting at the dinner table with you? Those are who's important and the people that pick you up when you're needing it. They're there for you, you're there for them. So the family unit has always been something extremely important to me. Especially as I get older and have children and extended family. That's really all you got in this world and it's the most beautiful thing there is.

In addition to Rivera, you're also working with Piotr Kowalski. How was it crafting this dream project with him and his art?

Mikey Way: What's interesting about him is he's mostly a horror guy, really. When we got his artwork, most of the demonstration pages and pieces were horror and then I went on his Instagram recently and it's all horror and I'm like "It kind of works, because this is supposed to be an 80s/90s Christmas movie.". If you watch these movies, they're all dark and they always tried to sneak a horror element into it. In Home Alone there was the scary boiler.

For me, it was A Christmas Story when Ralphie goes on the slide and the Santa just boots him down.

Mikey Way: There's always a moment of playful scariness in those movies. So I think it fit the tone, because you want it to look a little VHS. I feel like he was able to tell it exactly. Like if we closed our eyes and we were envisioning Christmas 365 as a movie, that's what it would look like. Me and Jon saw his art and were like "This is the guy.".

You previously spoke about the influence of suburban genre movies like The Burbs and Better Off Dead. How did these movies inform your Christmas story?

Mikey Way: So the story goes me and my brother watched Better Off Dead probably a couple of times a week for years. That and One Crazy Summer, those those two movies for me and my brother were very important. There was this Gonzo stuff in it. It was a slightly grounded, suburban comedy that had all these kind of wacky, fantastical ideas in it. All those movies had a sport. Better Off Dead was skiing.

Oh, like Heathers and croquet?

Mikey Way: Team Wolf had basketball. They all had a sport. Also there's a weird claymation dream sequence, remember? There was all this weird stuff, but there's something about that movie that struck a chord with me and my brother and we watched it literally once or twice a week for decades. But yes, Savage Steve Holland was a big influence on me and Jon Rivera.

Christmas 365 #1 is available on December 4th from Dark Horse Comics.

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shameless-sol-apologist · 2 years ago

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#gacha world #gacha memories #gacha resort #oh god i need to tag all of them #dj x #dj phantom #dj vinyl #blooming tiff #avenger reed #dj clover #shishi gw #shishi gacha world #fairy ellie #gm sol #gacha memories sol #crow's screeching

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gooswijn · 10 months ago

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The Blue Mask.

#gw #paint art #self portrait #microsoft paint #illustration #lou reed #the blue mask

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joz-yyh · 6 months ago

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Love Host - Ch. 7

SUMMARY: The fugitive reporter is reunited with his jeep, but things are never that easy, not for Miles Upshur. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: M (blood / gore / death / violence / swearing)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 3,113

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: Hey ya'll, it's been awhile. I've had this in my WIP folder for over a year, but thanks to the kind words of tumbler users @is-gw and @drwernicke, I found the motivation to finish it. Dedicating this chapter to you both! Hope it was worth the wait.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

The white-knuckled grip Miles wrings upon the steering wheel somehow squeezes tighter, making the leather squeak, skin pinching under the strain.

He can't help it, becoming more manic, pressing further and further into the dashboard like some crazed getaway driver, laying hard onto the gas, the speedometer pushing past 80 mph.

He glances to his right, the state map he picked up from an old fashioned gas station about 10 miles back is spread out onto the passenger's seat, hastily drawn symbols and magic marker lines indicating the specific coordinates Waylon had given him.

This was it, the final stretch. A few more strips of asphalt and he'd reach his destination whether he was ready for it or not.

Up ahead, Miles finds remnants of an old car accident, winding tread marks of burnt rubber spiraling out across the road, stray pieces of metal swept into the shoulder of a bent guard rail.

He pulls off to the side next to it, the rumble of the speed strip jostling his tire shocks, his brakes screeching to a halt because he's thinking about a million other things right now, but not about how to park outside the white line.

Thankfully, no one's around to see the embarrassing stint, the secluded mountain side looking safe and serene to the unsuspecting tourist, but an investigative journalist knew better. This was the perfect place to stage an ambush.

Miles takes a few stabilizing breaths, preparing himself before he exits the car. He stands, lingering by the driver's side door, huddling around it in case he has to jump back inside, waiting for any obvious threats to make their move.

Nothing happens, just clear skies and empty roadside.

Nerves still tingling with goosebumps, the anxious reporter leaves the safety net of Trager's four-door sedan, jogging over to the trail of wreckage, old tire impressions tumbling down into the ravine below.

He can see it, there in the woods, bright red coloring hidden behind shaved pine trees, a distinct trail leading from matted reeds into dense underbrush.

As much as Miles wants to sprint down, the human host forces himself to be cautious because the last thing he needs is to do something stupid like trip and break an ankle.

Steadily, he descends the slope, retracing the wheel’s path through the overgrown grass, ducking past branches until he's under the cover of trees, the sun blotted out, everything going a shade darker and a degree cooler.

His beloved jeep remains his beacon in the shadows, running towards it’s familiar guise, climbing over fallen tree trunks and the brown crunch of decaying leaves.

He's almost frantic in his pursuit, as if the flashy hunk of metal will disappear the moment he touches it, a cruel mirage of his mind, but his jeep is real, it's here and he can feel it.

His needs a minute to settle, to accept the reality, his body no longer fixated with surprise attacks, relaxing as he runs his hand along the jeep's frame, taking note of all the various scratches and dents that he can't remember being there before.

So much had changed in just a few short days and neither of them, man or machine were quite the same as they once were.

“Hey, remember me,” Miles says to the oversized keepsake, getting a little choked up by the reunion, “I can’t believe you're still in one piece.”

His bandaged fingers slide over the sporty door frame, following the seam of interlocking parts down to the door handle, tugging it open.

The seat’s been moved, a noticeably tighter fit as he wedges his legs inside, adjusting the position so it's more comfortable to his height.

His flashy press pass is right where he left it, dangling faithfully from his rear-view mirror, burnished by a ray of light.

The reporter smiles, bittersweet, turning over the flimsy plastic in his hand, his grip on the ID growing heavy.

The emotional brunette folds himself over the steering wheel in awkward hug, a horrific memory coming back to haunt him in true PTSD fashion.

Miles wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for O'Neil – just another civilian reporter assigned to the same mission he was, caught in the crossfire, blown away by the indiscriminate bombs of war.

It could have just as easily been Miles who died that day, years ago, during his tour in Afghanistan, but it wasn't and now he's stuck reliving the event, watching the rookie from behind the viewfinder of his camera, there and then suddenly not, taken by an explosive wave of dirt and smoke, no body to be found, nothing left of him except for his rundown jeep.

He'd seen so many lost souls, innocent lives sacrificed to feed the campaign of big oil and wealthy politicians, but this young man's violent end hit differently than the rest, a razor blade of barbed wire coiled deeply around his heart.

He hopes O'Neil is proud of the work he's done, that he's watching from somewhere, that he knows how close Miles is to crucifying the vile corporation that started it all.

There's a tug at the back of his mind, a treacherous dark sea, not quite his subconscious (he's learned to tell the difference), but the Walrider – it vies for his attention, warning him of a threat.

“What is it," Miles asks dazedly, looking up from his latticework of crossed arms, wiping at the melancholy sting in his eyes.

His symbiotic partner supplies him with snapshots, images of black combat boots and riot gear flickering across his eyes, a tactical team forming a perimeter around the woods.

The hairs in the back of his neck are standing on end, his nerves firing like pistons, his stomach dropping.

"Oh God," Miles whispers, nanites skirting his vision, "they’re here, aren’t they?"

The reporter is losing it, becoming a panicked, irrational mess.

“I knew they would be. I knew, and I still couldn’t stay away. What … what does that mean,” the host rambles, feeling his emotions break down into all the stages of grief.

“I am sorry for bringing you out here," Miles tells the machine, convinced that this was their last stand, that he had to make some poor amends for all his mistakes, "I am sorry for everything.”

The Walrider manifests itself, bony phalanges gripping its host's tear-stained cheeks, forcing the man to behold the eerie gleam of its eyes.

Captivated, Miles stares back, searching the abyss, the Walrider trying it's damnedest to convey an emotion that it’s not equipped to express.

“How many,” the host asks, his tone a terrified reservation.

The nanties bristle, swirling in urgent, jagged loops.

“Oh God," Miles breathes, the dread building, his voice doused with buckets of ice water, "too many."

With a painful sigh, he holds the machine in a similar embrace, stroking along the creature’s cheek, joining their heads together. It helps him think, clears away the hysteria.

“What should we do,” he asks after a beat, feeling so fucking pathetic for relying on his demonic counterpart for guidance, that he still not grown enough to handle this shit on his own.

Forget the self-depreciation. Focus. They need a plan, some means of escape.

Utilizing his jeep was a possible strategy, but that's assuming the engine still runs and he manages to Dukes-of-Hazzard his way out the woods and up the ravine.

A word flashes before the human's mind, the Walrider offering an idea.

'REVENGE.'

Miles understands the concept all too well, holding an intimate connection to the first act of vigilante justice they committed together, his partner offering him the same satisfaction again.

Miles doesn't need any more convincing. His blue eyes harden, borderline arrogant.

“Alright," the rebel declares, seeking the entity's affirmation, "you ready for this?"

The Walrider trills in his head, the nanites bursting from his veins with heady anticipation, muscles bulking with superhuman strength.

It's a good enough answer for Miles, his lips pulled back into a toothy grin.

“Lets show ‘em who they’re fucking with," Miles roars, eyes drowning in a sea of onyx, irises flaring into molten rings of gold.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t black out like he has in the past.

Maybe, it's because they've had more time to assimilate to their new way of life or maybe it's because Miles is more stable than he was before (unlikely as it is), but whatever the reason, the Walrider gives him complete control of their subplanted body.

Miles only has two eyes, but somehow his sight compounds into a crystal ball of surveillance monitors: helmets, rifles, tactile gear closing in around him, subtle clacks of movement showing a group of mercenaries laying in wait ahead.

If this was how the Walrider saw the world, why did it have to be so head-spinningly complicated?

Walmiles raises his hand, the nanites assembling along it, forming a giant stygian blade. With one effortless swipe, he slices through the armed forces, severed torsos thudding like timber, trees raining down upon the clearing, shaking the earth beneath his feet, crushing the dismembered bodies they once resided by.

Miles only has a moment to reflect on his homage to b-movie slasher flicks before he feels another psychic tug, their shared consciousness directing him towards another raid of enemy gunmen.

The freelance demigod in a jacket goes down the line, annihilates the hired hands one by one, bursting their insides like bloody fucking party balloons.

Another team approaches from his left, 9 o'clock.

He sends a swarm of nanites hurtling in their direction, burrowing into the mercenaries flesh like bullets, their death thralls echoing up into the placid blue sky, scaring away the birds.

He can feel the soldier's minds, read their blood: terror, confusion, helplessness and Miles pushes it all down, takes control of one of the surviving merc's trigger fingers and aims the rifle at what remains of his comrades in arms. Once the deed’s been done, the man-made killing machine pops his puppet's skull wide open, a signet bouquet of gorey brain matter, the lone merc's headless, lifeless body crumpling atop a growing pile of corpses.

It's quiet. It almost feels like it's over, but it's just the calm before the storm.

A ricochet bullet whizzes past the jeep's hood, shattering one of the headlights.

The sound distracts the murderous brunette, having narrowly dodged a bullet one or twice before, more war flashbacks coming to flood his psyche with devastating consequences.

A second shot rings out, the bullet hitting it's mark, Miles pierced through the chest by the precise aim of a sniper.

Suddenly, his confidence plummets, their synchronization interrupted because Miles is caught in an erroneous loop of relieving his own death, terrified that he'd failed his mission not once, but twice.

“Am I … are we …?”

‘Dead’ is what he wants to ask, but all he can do is look down at his hands, watch as they tremble, his vision fading at the edges, going blurry.

The Walrider takes over, becoming the dominant personality, sailing through the air in a swarm of nanite clouds, tracking the bullet's trajectory back to it's source.

The soldier attempts to shoot the dark angel down, but it becomes exceedingly apparent that he can’t, abandoning his post to run.

The Walrider catches its prey, squeezes the life out of the foolish villain that dared to injure it's precious host, crushing the vile human's neck under its claws.

Another shot, gouging Walmiles through the shoulder, from behind. Just how many snipers did Murkoff pull in for this job?

The Walrider gladly applies the same tactics to silence this menace as well, nanites beating like giant wings.

Miles recovers, insists on wrestling back control, “Stop, we need him alive.”

The Walrider remains skeptical of it's host's judgment, holding the second sniper by the collar, bringing him towards an intimidating stare of cracked, oozing flesh.

“I want you to do something for me," says the warbled voice, the Walrider and Miles speaking together as one singular being, "Tell the ones who hired you, I am coming for them. Tell them, I am going to burn their lives to the ground, that there will be nothing left after I am done because they'll all be dead.”

Miles pauses in his speech, staring into the young marksman's eyes, assessing how human they are, “You got all that?”

The soldier is too scared to speak, merely nodding his compliance.

"Good. Off you go, then,” Miles instructs, letting the man drop, shoving him towards his objective, “And be sure to leave the gun.”

The sniper stumbles, regaining his balance, still coming to terms with what the fuck just happened, running off to deliver his message.

SHHHWWOOOOOOMMM!!!

The booming speed of a jet sails overhead, poised for an airstrike.

"You gotta to be fucking kidding me with this shit,” the host snarls, annoyed that Murkoff would send in goddman fighter jet of all things just to take him out.

Mitigating damage indeed.

Miles runs, jumps as far away as he can, an explosive missile detonating a few hundred feet away, setting the woods ablaze, a shield of nanobots protecting him from the conflagration.

He lies flat onto his stomach, hands laced behind his head, waits for the danger to pass before he makes another move.

“Christ, almighty, please tell me my jeep is OK,” Miles pleads into the surrounding hollow of dirt.

He's never been the religious type, but it doesn't stop him from praying that his beloved bucket of bolts is still intact, spared from the destruction.

He sorts through the disaster of dancing flames to find it, a whorl of nanobots snuffing out a path and thank God it's still standing, left unharmed (for the most part).

He pats the vehicle free of the surrounding orange embers, laments over the burn marks bubbling the paint, but that was purely cosmetic amenity in the grand scheme of things.

“Holy shit,” Miles pants in relief, leaning against the hood, allowing himself a well deserved reprieve.

He's hobbling as he maneuvers, feeling just a bit achy and sore from his new set of matching gunshot wounds, stifled by the heat of the forest fire still rampaging on around them, sweat mixing with the blood and ash on his face.

“Now what,” he asks out into the open air, having no clue where to go from here.

The Walrider’s conscience swipes across his mind again, another suggestion that could just as easily be mistaken for his own thought process.

The machine searches his memory bank, shows him a grainy reel of a strong man lifting a barbell.

“Can you really lift something like this?”

Another old movie clip of a floating car, minus the futuristic wings.

“Have we done this before?"

If they have, he has no recollection of it, the Walrider demonstrating its strength, nanites wrapping around the automobile, transporting it back up onto the road.

As he watches the superhuman display, tires gently resting back upon the black turf of the highway, Miles almost doesn't have words, (the keyword there being almost).

"Oh, well, that was easy.”

The machine can't appreciate his excellent comedic timing, but that's OK, he can laugh at his own joke.

“Lemme just go grab my stuff," Miles tells his chivalrous paralysis demon, clambering up the hill the old fashioned way despite having the ability to “fly” above it instead.

He retrieves his duffel bags, Miles transferring them to his jeep, starting up the ignition, but of course it has one last fatal flaw: it's out of gas.

“At least it's out of the ditch,” the journalist sighs, slumping back into the driver’s seat, needing a vacation after suffering through this exhausting debacle.

It's fine. He's sure Trager's car has a dodgy siphoning hose hiding somewhere in the trunk he can use.

—---

“So, what are you thinking,” Paul Marion asks, plucking at his gums with a toothpick, having just finished his lunch, "Did we get him?”

"Hard to say,” Glick muses, leaning down to drag her fingers through the soot, grinding it between her thumb and forefinger. “Upshur certainly did some damage. It's interfering with our readings.”

“I imagine he would,” the blonde haired agent replies, watching gray smoke filter up from the charred ground, “judging by the state he left the asylum in.”

He's just glad they don't have to go rifling through the crime scene (there were other people for that), the fire now extinguished thanks to an airdrop of sand, but that meant a stark film of contamination hung over their investigation.

His female counterpart is silent, framing a scenario in her mind based on the reports. The body count, time table, and radiation readings told her it was possible Miles was dead, but her job was never that easy.

“We using the usual cover story, then,” Marion asks, leaving the toothpick to hang between his lips, shoving hands inside his pockets, taking in the great outdoors, “stupid drunk teenagers lit a campfire in the woods. Let it get out of control?”

Pauline doesn't offer an answer, an underling assisting with the clean up approaching them in light of some recent development.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the grunt agent cuts in, “a witness has come forward.”

“A witness,” she parrots with snarky red lips, her fine brows curved into speculative intrigue.

“Golly, you mean to tell me someone actually survived this mess,” Paul whistles, chuckling to himself, stepping up to his sleek-suited partner.

“One of the ground team says he has a message from Miles Upshur,” the grunt confirms.

“Oh, this keeps getting better and better,” Marion grins, radiating sarcastic anticipation, wondering what kind of juicy gossip they were about to hear.

“You'd better let me handle this,” the she-devil with a gun insists, leaving her partner in the dust.

“Not enough clearance, huh?”

“Hmm, something like that.”

“Any word on Park,” her yellow stouted partner asks, hoping to entertain himself with this nugget of info while she's gone.

“No, still in the wind,” Pauline sighs, “He’s covered up his tracks pretty well so far, but he’ll mess up. They always do.”

"Ma'am," the lowly grunt accosts, reminding Ms Glick of the lone survivor waiting to be interrogated.

"What are you gonna do with him,” Marion persists, fishing for more intel.

"Take him back to HQ for questioning,” she hisses, frustrated with Marion's pestering, “He might remember something that will give us a clue. Upshur and Park were accomplices before. Maybe one can lead us to the other.”

“Love the way you think, miss piggy,” he taunts, watching her stalk away, fists clenched.

“Don't make me shoot you in the mouth too,” Pauline scoffs.

#outlast #the walrider #walrider #miles upshur #walmiles #my writing #the pauls #outlast fanfiction #love host #outlast whistleblower #paul marion #pauline glick #blood and gore #violence

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itchycoro · 1 year ago

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Jumat kemarin baru beli reed diffuser. Baru bisa kecium baunya pas dideketin bgt ke hidung. Di kantor ada reed diffuser baru. Kecium di hidung gw cuma samar-samar. Coba nyium bau minyak telon di botolnya. Alhamdulillah bisa kecium baunya meskipun kudu dioles ke tangan agak banyakan.

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princeofgod-2021 · 2 years ago

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LIGHT OF LIFE 306

John 1:4

UNITY OF THE BODY 9 – MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN

Eph 4:2-3 ALWAYS BE HUMBEL AND GENTLE. Be patient with each other, MAKING ALLOWANCE FOR EACH OTHER’S FAULTS because of your love. MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO KEEP YOURSELVES UNITED, BINDING YOURSELVES TOGETHER WITH PEACE. GW

From the foregoing, it might seem that I am encouraging you to bother LESS about taking God’s Glory, than about offending the Unity of the body. Not so beloved: never tamper with God’s Glory please.

Isa 42:8 "I ALONE AM THE LORD YOUR GOD. NO OTHER GOD MAY SHARE MY GLORY; I WILL NOT LET IDOLS SHARE MY PRAISE. GNB

But look closely again at the beginning of that Chapter and you’d see that God was so concerned about sending Jesus to care endearingly for all people [even gentiles], with Justice and equity, ruling in mercy.

Isa 42:1-4 HERE IS MY SERVANT! I have made him strong. He is my chosen one; I am pleased with him. I HAVE GIVEN HIM MY SPIRIT, AND HE WILL BRING JUSTICE TO THE NATIONS. He won't shout or yell or call out in the streets. HE WON'T BREAK OFF A BENT REED OR PUT OUT A DYING FLAME, but HE WILL MAKE SURE THAT JUSTICE IS DONE. HE WON'T QUIT OR GIVE UP UNTIL HE BRINGS JUSTICE EVERYWHERE ON EARTH, and people in foreign nations long for his teaching. CEV

You see how much God really loves the sons of men?

God created the world of men to raise/build the Church, an army to serve Him forever. Now, to Him, that is of higher priority than most other things.

Mat 16:18 I give you the name Peter, a stone. And this truth of who I am will be THE BEDROCK FOUNDATION ON WHICH I WILL BUILD MY CHURCH—MY LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY, AND THE POWER OF DEATH WILL NOT BE ABLE TO OVERPOWER IT! TPT

Another point is that: if the progress and unity of the Church is affected, where are the people that will worship God?

Yes! Rocks can praise God but that will never be the same thing. Don’t you agree?

It is evident to me that whenever some proud men rule other men unjustly, God’s worship is affected.

Exo 8:1 And this is what the Lord said to Moses: Go to Pharaoh and say to him, The Lord says, LET MY PEOPLE GO SO THAT THEY MAY GIVE ME WORSHIP. BBE

Pharaoh was a wicked vice using the people of God as slaves. One thing about slaves is that they are forced to serve who they shouldn’t.

Then they get embittered and decry their God, whom they earnestly hope should have saved them from the slavery.

See, the Proud have too much points against themselves.

Isa 52:4-5 LONG AGO YOU WENT TO EGYPT WHERE YOU LIVED AS FOREIGNERS. Then Assyria was cruel to you, AND NOW ANOTHER NATION HAS TAKEN YOU PRISONER FOR NO REASON AT ALL. YOUR LEADERS GROAN WITH PAIN, AND DAY AFTER DAY MY OWN NAME IS CURSED. CEV

It baffles me really, how satan managed to deceive one-third of God’s Holy angels, but imagine how God should feel for having his Army depleted like that.

Now He comes down to make Man, to replace that number and should He keep silent and let satan yet disrupt His programme [again]?

I don’t think so!

Nah 1:7-9 Jehovah is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knows those who trust in Him. But with an overflowing flood He will make an utter end of its place, and darkness shall pursue His enemies. WHAT ARE YOU PLOTTING AGAINST JEHOVAH? HE WILL MAKE AN UTTER END; AFFLICTION SHALL NOT RISE UP THE SECOND TIME. MKJV

It’s therefore important for those saved from the Proud and wicked, to really serve God in utmost reverence and fear, or else, God will destroy them just as fast as He destroys the Proud.

They will also fall like the haughty (Prov 16:18) considering that it thence useless saving them in the first place.

Num 11:18 Now tell the people, 'Purify yourselves for tomorrow; you will have meat to eat. THE LORD HAS HEARD YOU WHINING AND SAYING THAT YOU WISHED YOU HAD SOME MEAT AND THAT YOU WERE BETTER OFF IN EGYPT. Now the LORD will give you meat, and you will have to eat it. GNB

Heb 3:16-18 For some, when they had heard, did provoke; however, not all who came out of Egypt by Moses. BUT WITH WHOM WAS HE GRIEVED FORTY YEARS? WAS IT NOT WITH THOSE WHO HAD SINNED, WHOSE CARCASSES FELL IN THE WILDERNESS? And to whom did He swear that they should not enter into His rest, but to those who did not believe? MKJV

This brings us to the definition of PRIDE: the display of excessive self-esteem, feeling of self-respect and personal worth, especially in relegating fellow humans whom you see as being beneath your standard.

Pro 16:18 Pride goeth before destruction, and AN HAUGHTY SPIRIT BEFORE A FALL. KJV

Haughtiness is having or showing arrogant superiority to and disdain of those, one views as unworthy.

As you can see, no definition of Pride declares the “taking of someone else’s honour or glory”.

Pride predominantly impinges on a man’s relationship with others of his kind and stature.

Pro 18:1 An unfriendly person isolates himself and seems to care only about his own issues. For his contempt of sound judgment makes him a recluse. TPT

The Proud isolates from others and relates only with a “class” he assumes to be “superior”.

Then he could be destroying everything he sees of the “lower class”, which could be good, but he detests wildly.

3Jn 1:9-10 I wrote unto the church: BUT DIOTREPHES, WHO LOVETH TO HAVE THE PREEMINENCE AMONG THEM, RECEIVETH US NOT. Wherefore, if I come, I will remember his deeds which he doeth, prating against us with malicious words: and not content therewith, NEITHER DOTH HE HIMSELF RECEIVE THE BRETHREN, AND FORBIDDETH THEM THAT WOULD, AND CASTETH THEM OUT OF THE CHURCH. KJV

The Proud love number one position and they want to be the only ones there and everyone else “under”.

So, with witty precision, they war against anything that “threatens” their “assumed crown”.

Please check yourself now. If you do any of these traits, you are proud and a threat to the Unity of the Body of Christ.

Mar 9:34-4 THEY HAD BEEN ARGUING ABOUT WHICH ONE OF THEM WAS THE GREATEST, and so they did not answer. After Jesus sat down and told the twelve disciples to gather around him, he said, "IF YOU WANT THE PLACE OF HONOR, YOU MUST BECOME A SLAVE AND SERVE OTHERS!" CEV

May God make you the servant of all in His Church, in Jesus name. Did you say Amen?

Join us on Friday for more digging in as we proceed with this enlightening subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Wednesday, January 25, 2022

08055125517; 08023904307

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grotradio · 1 year ago

Text

Im not sending out copies of the book anymore, sorry! For everyone that grabbed one, i hope u enjoy the book! Also sorry if it came off super sketchy. Just need to make sure GW doesnt come knocking at my door hehe. ALSO check out the audio book too, Richard Reed did an incredible job bringing it to life!

THIS STUPIT ROBOT GUY WAS SO INFLUENTIAL TO ME THAT i'M GOING BACK TO SCHOOL TO BECOME AN ARCHIVIST DUFKSJAKLHA. He's such an asshole! but he's my fav warhammer charcyer so who cares. Anyways DM if u want a free pdf of Infinite and the Divine. Best warhammer book

#warhammer 40k #necrons #trazyn the infinite #infinte and the divine

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20lait1 · 4 years ago

Photo

I did a bit of a redraw of a character from a mobile game that I used to play called Gacha World called Reed (this version is called Avenger Reed though). It’s from quite a while ago and I’ve basically finished it, but it’s still nostalgic and I do love the characters quite a lot, even if the new ‘games’ don’t focus on the original characters anymore.

The old one’s from July 16, 2018; so nearly about two years’ worth of improvement? The first picture is the original, the second is the one with a shadow over the eyes to match the original one more. To be honest, I think my past self did the background daggers better because I think I spent more time on them/used different layers, but I kind of rushed through them because I’m impatient.

#gacha world #avenger reed #gw reed #lunime #art #digital art #redraw #art by 20lait1 #red #artists on tumblr

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todaysdocument · 3 years ago

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Letter from George Washington to the President of Congress Regarding the Safeguarding His Papers, 8/13/1776

“They are all contained in a large Box nailed up ... to be delivered to Congress, In whose Custody I would beg leave to deposit them…”

File Unit: Letters from General George Washington, Commander in Chief of the Army, 1775 - 1784

Series: Papers of the Continental Congress, 1774 - 1789

Record Group 360: Records of the Continental and Confederation Congresses and the Constitutional Convention, 1765 - 1821

Transcription:

393

New York Aug 13th. 1776

Sir

As there is reason to believe that but

little Time will elapse before the Enemy make their

attack, I have thought It advisable to remove All

the Papers in my hands respecting the Affairs of

the States from this place. I hope the Event

will shew the precaution was unnecessary, but

yet prudence required that It should be done,

Lest by any accident they might Fall into their

hands.

They are all contained in a large

Box nailed up & committed to the care of Lt.

Colo Reed, Brother of the Adjt. Genl to be delivered

to Congress, In whose Custody I would beg leave

to deposit them, untill our affairs shall be so

circumstanced as to admit of their return.

The Enemy since my Letter of Yesterday

have received a further augmentation of Thirty

six ships to their Fleet, making the whole that

have arrived since Yesterday morning Ninety

I have the Honor to be

with great respect

Sir,

Yr most Obed Servt

G. Washington

I would Observe, that

I have sent off the Box

privately that it might raised

no disagreable Ideas, & have

enjoined Colo Reed to secrecy.

#archivesgov #August 13 #1776 #1700s #American Revolution #Revolutionary War #records management #George Washington

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46ten · 4 years ago

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curious as to your take on the current debate going on in hamiltonia re: hamilton a slaver vs hamilton not a slaver?

Whew, this is going to be a long answer. Since Jessie Serfilippi’s “As Odious and Immoral A Thing” was first published (I posted a few brief quotes here), likely as part of an ongoing interest in the Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site with the subject of the Schuyler and Hamilton families and slavery (see here for blogposts labeled ‘slavery’ including a couple about AH specifically), there have been three versions of a rebuttal by Michael E. Newton and some people calling themselves Philo (”Love”) Hamilton, one of whom is Doug Hamilton*. The ongoing engagement on this topic also brings up issues of historiography and hagiography.

In this whole discussion there is only one new piece of evidence that Serfilippi has referenced on Twitter but is not part of her article - I’ll get into that below. Everything else is a re-analysis of known and fairly popular sources, so I don’t think going through it point by point would be helpful.

But let’s be clear about something. This discussion around AH is in large part because of this Chernow falsehood: “[f]ew, if any, other founding fathers opposed slavery more consistently or toiled harder to eradicate it than Hamilton.” Chernow also calls AH a “fierce abolitionist” and a “staunch abolitionist” because Chernow doesn’t know what abolitionism is. This lie got tons of mileage with Lin-Manuel Miranda, whose musical character AH may have personal moral defects, but not blind spots as huge and disastrous to a modern audience as a lackadaisical approach to the owning of other human beings. (That Miranda’s approach totally riled some Black artists and scholars is well-known, and I wrote briefly about it here.) Serfilippi’s article doesn’t get the media play it does without the popularity of the abolitionist Founding Father myth that Miranda put on stage. So this conflict and news-cycle interest arose from Chernow’s need to give AH the moral high ground by claiming that he was the best best best abolitionist because Chernow is interested in hagiography, not biography. Unfortunately, Newton-Hamilton seem interested in the same thing.

A brief note on word usage: an enslaver, in most current usage, is defined as someone who participated in any aspect of the slavery enterprise. Considering AH’s undisputed role as money-handler (or the more laughable ‘he was a banker’ assertion in the Newton-Hamilton essay) for members of the Schuyler family acquiring enslaved persons, AH was an enslaver.

In my opinion, on the issue of slavery, AH is damned by his extensive ties from 1780 onwards to the Schuyler family. There’s nothing that can explain away the fact that AH at times lived with, visited, and sent his wife and children for extended stays and to be educated by his slave-owning in-laws. AH did not somehow become innocently involved in slave trading and ownership. Rather, he knew what he was doing when he married into the heavy slave-trading and owning Schuyler family and when he engaged in business acts for that family, including helping them to acquire/sell enslaved persons. These were morally weighty - and abominable acts, argued even in his day - and he did them anyway. There is not any record that remains that he had a problem having his children reared within an abhorrent system/household where people were enslaved and served them; in fact, given the number of times he sent his children to his father- and mother-in-law’s home for extended periods, it could be suggested he found nothing morally objectionable going on there. Philip Hamilton even thanked his enslaver grandfather for his advice on how to “be a good man.” P. Schuyler’s wealth and trading was through the slavery economy. Moreover, AH’s economic concerns were also inextricably tied to slavery - keep in mind that every mention of tariffs on sugar is connected to the slave trade. Almost everything led back to that evil institution.

During AH’s lifetime, a number of white AND Black persons articulated that all enslaved Black and Indigenous persons should be freed, that the practice of enslavement was a grave moral failing. AH was well-informed enough to know that Black Americans were articulating how freedom should be applied to them - indeed, many of the manumission policies of the original states arose from these efforts. So AH was fully aware of the arguments. (His son was involved!) Maybe this helped inspire him and his slave-owning friends and political colleagues to form the NY Society for Promoting the Manumission of Slaves, although none of this group agreed to give up their own enslaved persons as part of the organization of this group.

Or, as Newton-Hamilton audaciously state, “[AH] was more involved in building a nation” sotto voce based on enslavement and racial distinction than he could be bothered to care about the lives of enslaved people. This shouldn’t be a surprise when it comes to AH’s major moral failings/blind spots - he didn’t care about the lives of the people affected by his whiskey tax either. If one wants to nevertheless call this a “good man,” we’re probably looking at each other from across a void.

But this is well-trod territory. Several articles post-Chernow have evaluated and summarized positions on AH and slavery that I share:

“Hamilton's position on slavery is more complex than his biographers' suggest. Hamilton was not an advocate of slavery, but when the issue of slavery came into conflict with his personal ambitions, his belief in property rights, or his belief of what would promote America's interests, Hamilton chose those goals over opposing slavery. In the instances where Hamilton supported granting freedom to blacks, his primary motive was based more on practical concerns rather than an ideological view of slavery as immoral. Hamilton's decisions show that his desire for the abolition of slavery was not his priority.” Michelle DuRoss, “Somewhere in Between: Alexander Hamilton and Slavery,” Early American Review, 2011 [part 1, part 2]

“But it does illustrate something that his primary modern biographers have been reluctant to concede: Hamilton routinely subordinated his antislavery inclinations to other family and political concerns, and he did not ever approach even a modest level of engagement on the issue in his otherwise voluminous published works.” Phil Magness, “Alexander Hamilton’s Exaggerated Abolitionism,” 2015

“He was not an abolitionist...[h]e bought and sold slaves for his in-laws, and opposing slavery was never at the forefront of his agenda.” Annette Gordon-Reed, “Correcting ‘Hamilton’,” Harvard Gazette, 2016.

Serfilippi extends this:

When those sources are fully considered, a rarely acknowledged truth becomes inescapably apparent: not only did Alexander Hamilton enslave people, but his involvement in the institution of slavery was essential to his identity, both personally and professionally.

I have no objection to her statement. We simply have no record of AH strongly challenging the institution of slavery, while several of his colleagues and friends most certainly did. Instead, we have the financial transactions, the possible use of enslaved labor, and the possible ownership of enslaved persons, alongside his strong personal, professional, and political ties to owners of enslaved persons. And the new evidence: the inclusion of the following in a list of persons dead of Yellow Fever in NYC 1798, “Hamilton Alexander, major-general, the black man of, 26 Broadway” An Account of the Malignant Fever, Lately Prevalent in the City of New-York, 1799. We cannot know if this was an enslaved man or a free Black man who lived and labored for the Hamiltons, but it should eliminate anyone confidently stating that the Hamiltons did not own enslaved persons.

Thus, Serfilippi has successfully accomplished at least one important goal: bringing to the forefront the names (as we have them) of persons, servant or enslaved, connected to the Hamiltons.

I wrote above that part of the problem here is hagiography. If his concern is with the truth, I certainly look forward to Newton’s chapter-by-chapter repudiations of books written by Chernow, Brookhiser, and Knott on AH and the AH/GW relationship.This leads to the second issue that has arisen: the unprofessional, and frankly gross, glee in trying to punch down on a young female scholar. In my own field (an ex-partner is a military historian so I’ll speak for their field too), the approach when one believes a colleague is publishing in error and one has additional information that could illuminate the issues is to contact them and seek to work together to analyze and draw conclusions. Newton and the anonymous Love Hamilton clan didn’t treat Serfilippi as if she were deserving of this respect. Moreover, Newton has never, to my knowledge - and I purchased his books! - gone this hard after Chernow, who certainly deserves it even more.

But Newton-Hamilton betray their own concerns here: “Considering the era in which Hamilton lived, the challenges he faced, and his accomplishments, it is not difficult to understand why Hamilton did not make opposition to slavery his primary focus. His attention was on building a nation.” And what kind of nation was that? At the Constitutional Convention, AH’s lengthy speeches on the formation of the government have been recorded. There is no record of him offering any statements about the slavery issue, unlike his friend Gouverneur Morris.

Newton-Hamilton continue: “Unfortunately, that meant neglecting other important matters, not just slavery but also his own financial well-being.” Wow, a comparison is made between AH’s personal finances and the ownership of human beings. Could these authors be any clearer that the slavery issue is an inconvenience that they are ultimately unconcerned about? I’m unsure if Newton-Hamilton realize just how gross their attempt at addressing this issue has been, and that it’s hard to take their interpretation and analysis of the evidence seriously when these are the kinds of statements making their way into the rebuttal essays.

Now there is an interesting discussion about how even later abolitionists did not see a conflict in the employment of enslaved labor, but that too isn’t something that Newton-Hamilton show interest in. Instead, their approach seems to be that AH needs to be celebrated at all costs, and thankfully, those days are passing into history.

*It’s ridiculous that a group of people have given themselves a stupid pseudonym to avoid attaching their actual names to a so-called scholarly article. And I’m aware that I’m writing this anonymously, but on tumblr where maybe 5 people have made it to the end of this (I’m not publishing it on my real blog).

**I will not link it, but it can be found on Newton’s blog discoveringhamilton.

#Alexander Hamilton #Chernow #slavery #Philip Schuyler #Michael E. Newton #Serfilippi #historiography

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