#i hate you rural alabama i hate you

[foreos]

LET ME WRITE

[whatbigotspost]

Sometimes it feels like everyone left leaning on this site are at the extreme polar opposite ends of a spectrum of "compulsory vote blue or die and kill us all, you stupid selfish piece of shit" or "vote for Biden and you're a fucking warmonger who will kill us all, you stupid selfish piece of shit."

I'm so sick of it. It's exhausting.

I can't do justice to this point in a tumblr post. But for now I'll say, as with everything in life, it's all so much fucking more nuanced than this. Both systemically and personally. No 2 people on this site's voting access and circumstances are remotely the same. Y'all really gonna tell me it's the same experience every step of the way to vote in rural Texas as it is downtown NYC? Indianapolis as LA? Denver as Honolulu? Alaska as Alabama? And that’s only speaking to geography which is 1 factor of so many.)

I'm gonna hold my nose and vote for Biden. Again. (Again and again if you count VP.) AND I fucking hate him and his politics. I was raised as close to the "vote blue or die" side of the spectrum as one could be in 1984. My parents were shit, but they did take me to see voting w/ them. I was raised with a hero of a grandmother who reminded me every election cycle that when she was born, her mother wasn't legally able to vote.

I ended up spending 4 years studying poli sci, where my academic mentor and thesis reader was the first Black woman (I'm white) who I'd ever gotten to formally learn from. She was the first person who also ever challenged my idea that "voting is the ultimate way to participate in society" and opened my eyes to the substance of the choice to not participate in politics that way. She was foundational and planted the seed of the thought in my mind, but my continued educational path studying the governmental systems of the US far outside her direct tutelage kept raising the same questions for me. After that educational experience, I basically walked away with a following 17 year (ever growing) mental ethical dilemma and debate on this in my own mind that has just gotten more and more intense because I can personally understand both of those extremes and why they are so passionately felt.

But I just don't agree that we should be spending our time continuously text screaming at another person that the choice you arrived at (for the reasons YOU have) are in any way actually relevant to a stranger.

If you read this and you're at one of those extreme ends, I want you to know: I don't blame you or have a negative judgement against that. But if you think that YOUR REASONS are the same truths present for all other folks on the left side of the stupid ass US political spectrum, you're wrong. You just are.

[lightboundhellhound]

my sisters dog is like. you know those romcom movies where the protagonist is this rich girl who lives in a penthouse in new york city and her dad pays for everything and she has everything she could ever want, and somehow she ends up in the fuckin rural midwest where she sees grass for the first time and she’s on a farm where the horses hate her and the kindly middle aged woman makes fun of her. there’s usually a lil country boy love interest or whatever but that deviates from my point

every time i take this dog outside that’s what im reminded of. my sisters dog acts like i brought her from her nyc penthouse and dumped her in a farm in bumfuck indiana. it’s kinda unreal, especially since we live in alabama

[gaymormonmike]

Harper Lee

She wrote To Kill a Mockingbird, from the perspective of Scout, the 6 to 8 year old who tells the story. But we also get the adult Scout's point of view at times. Harper Lee admits the story is based on her life (Scout), her older brother (Jem)  and her best friend who was based onTruman Capote, and her father (Atticus). The book makes an indelible record of the deep, rural south in early 1930's. As such, it is historial fiction and does, in detail, explain the people in rural Alabama in 1930's. I was in Florida at age 6 in 1950. Florida was similar to Alabama of 1935. I was a confused northern boy who could not understand segragation and why it was going on all around me. Thanks to the U.S. Air Force I was stationed in Montgomery, Alabama in 1961 for 6 months. Still not much difference from what Harper Lees descibes. I was angry, appalled and amazed at the open bigotry and what I would call apartheid that was happening. Protests were going on but the Air Force told us not to get involved.  I, like Atticus, want to understand these people. Lee Harper's people had family that told them about the civil war, reconstruction and their personal experience with slavery. Atticus loves these naeighbors and family members. Even when he defends an innocent black man, who the jury knows is innocent, but condemn him to death, Atticus tries to explain to his children that they are not bad people. The movie and the play were focused on this trial and make Atticus the hero of the story. The book is more focused on the people of rural Alabama and the 3 kids trying to navigate its' wonders. The "N" word is used liberally by the adults. That was what I heard in the deep south, just used as a common everyday word. I also heard it in my neighborhood in the north. I am glad to say it was not acceptable in my home. Like the study and stories I have read about Nazi Germany, I think it is important to understand these people and how they got  this way. The other unuusual aspect of the book, is that Scout is a tom boy to the point that she would be transgender today. Harper chose to keep her life private, but she never married, was a friend and collegue to Truman Capote, who was a totally out gay man. With the exception of her father and brother, everyone in the book is trying to turn her into a feminine  girl. So, the stoy has profound meaning for me as I grew up in an era when being gay or different in anyway was not acceptable Roles of boys and  girls were cast in stone and staying true to those models was imperative. You have these  3 children who are depicted as not being racists like everyone around them and that they each are different from anyone around them. Do they represent the new south that will eventually evolve? I did not see it in 1961. I saw small children being taught to hate for skin colors sake. I saw hatred for all Yankees. Since they liked me, they insisted I was a Southern boy and not the Yankee I kept telling them I was. To Kill a Mocking Bird is so amazing. It records the dress, speech, food, foibles, good and bad of a people that existed and still leave their mark on the world, as they influenced their children and grand children. I can only hope that the stories I leave my children and grand children make them better people who show love and acceptance to everyone, even if they do not understand or like their choices.

[gay-kurapika]

I had an interaction with a customer the other day that I think only the people on here wouldn’t judge me for lol. So one of my coworkers is from Alabama and has a southern accent. The customer asked about him, because she was from Texas. I said “oh that’s fun, what part of Texas? My brother moved to Texas a few years ago.” And she said rural Texas, and I just jokingly said “Oh I bet you haven’t met, he’s in Austin.” And then she went on a little rant about how anyone in Austin probably doesn’t share “our values” (huge assumption about my “values” lady I’m a dyke and I only work at this store for money) and about how Texas has gotten so full of “outsiders.” Like I’m not sure what you wanted me to say here lady but as much as he sometimes annoys me I love my gay polyamorous brother that moved to Texas and works in the tech industry. Idc if you think that changed “the culture.” Maybe the culture needed to be changed if you think it’s appropriate to basically say you hate minorities to your cashier in Utah.

[arjaandsimoni]

The Howling House

“Just sort it out Fullmoon! I’m paying you enough!”

The older man shouted across the desk, wearing a three piece suit and sweating uncomfortably in the balmy southern heat.

Alabama wasn’t a major tourist destination, but sometimes the rich and powerful liked it as a vacation home, if only so they could sneer at everyone in the state who wasn’t rich and powerful like they were. Also there was apparently some good golfing.

“Just saying, we would need to know as much as we can about the situation beforehand.” replied Nelen, sitting in a leather armchair across the desk from him. This client was getting on his nerves, but he’d always had issues with guys like him. They reminded him too much about why he had what he did on his hands.

Dawn just sat nearby grinning, the feline shapeshifter in her human form at the moment, wearing her usual baggy jeans, sock hat, and shiny reflective sunglasses to hide her less-than-human nature. Her purple teeshirt sported a grinning depiction of Disney’s take on the Cheshire Cat from the animated version of Alice in Wonderland.

The man sighed, “All I know is that rotten old house is sitting right where I want to build my summer home… but every work crew I send in gets chased off. Machinery gets sabotaged, huge claw marks in engine blocks, and now someone has turned up dead.” he huffed, “I want this sorted out before the police get involved! I don’t want a scandal! Find out what the hell is doing this and get RID of it!” he snapped.

Nelen nodded, “Claw marks… any idea what kind of claw marks?” he asked.

“NO!” he shouted, “THAT’S WHAT I’M PAYING YOU TO FIND OUT! NOW GET TO IT!” he retorted, spit flying from his mouth.

Nelen held up his hands, “Alright alright, Dawn and I will go take a look around the site and see what we can figure out.” he nodded, getting to his feet and nodding for his ‘daughter’ to join him.

She hopped to her feet, then with a smirk said “Later, scotch breath.” and followed Nelen out of the office, the man glaring at her. He had a five-year coin from Alcoholics Anonymous framed on his wall.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Jeez Dawn, he’d better not cut our fee.” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh come on, I had to. So any idea what this one could be?” she asked.

“Probably not a ghost at least, I mean claw marks implies something corporeal, but if they’re in an engine block that could be something dangerous. Those things are cut from solid steel normally, they can take a beating.” he nodded. “Its late though, we’ll hit the hotel tonight and head out first thing tomorrow.”

Later, at their Hotel

The hotel was a nice one for once. Not exactly amazing, but one of the better Holiday Inns in the area. Clearly the client wanted this done. There were two empty pizza boxes on the table next to the TV, along with a half empty two liter of Coke and an empty pint of milk. Nelen stretched out on the bed, flipping through urban legend wikis on his tablet as Dawn watched a re-run of the classic William Shatner Star Trek series, her tail swishing behind her.

“Hm… okay, this might be something.” said Nelen, “Dog Boy. Apparently there was this kid in the 1950s who actually lived at a house in the area, real sick bastard too. He’d catch animals and torture them, locked up his parents apparently too. He died of a drug overdose in prison though.” he said.

Dawn hissed at that, “Oh EW. We got a slasher?! Ugh… I hate those guys! They always come after innocent cats first!” she glared, her tail thrashing about angrily.

“Well, not necessarily Dawn. He said claw marks on an engine block, even a grizzly bear would have a hard time doing that. Whatever is there probably isn’t human, or at least not a mundane.” he nodded, “Of course, this is an Urban Legend wiki. It could be something totally different, or the story could be bullshit."

Dawn shrugged, “Eh, we’ll find out tomorrow I guess.” she nodded.

Nelen nodded too, glancing back over that story. “Hm…” he muttered.

An abandoned house in rural Alabama.

The rental car pulled up outside of the house, the two of them climbing out of it. It was a fairly big house, nothing massive but definitely the kind of house that said ‘someone who had some decent money lived in me once.’ What architecture remained suggested it predated the 1950s at least, possibly made in the 1920s or earlier. The left side was busted in, clearly where the demolition work had begun, but the rest was still standing.

The same couldn’t be said for the construction equipment. A bulldozer’s engine was indeed sporting several deep gashes on it, severing a fuel line and leaving a spark plug missing, and a crane’s arm had been completely ripped off as well. Nelen frowned at those, walking up to the house. “Hm…” he sighed, “Well shit, guess we gotta at least check…” he shrugged, flexing his hands, then walking in along with Dawn.

The inside of the house had seen better days. Grime and dust covered most surfaces, the furniture out of date by several decades, at least what wasn’t wrecked. Dawn hissed, her tail floofing, “GUH! What the fuck is that smell?! I… oh.” she paused as they turned a corner and found, well, most of a deer.

It had been torn open, the inside left to rot, its entrails spilling out onto the floor. “That… narrows the field a bit.” said Nelen, looking down at it. In the gloom it was hard to make out, but he could tell that whatever had pulled it apart had done so with its teeth.

“Nelen… we should probably get going…” she whined, her ears folded back. She had untucked her tail and left her hat and glasses in the car. Nobody was around to see that she wasn’t human anyways.

The mage nodded, “Yeah, I need to check some stuff back at the hotel.” he muttered. He’d brought his messenger bag with him, but he had a feeling that this would require some serious prep work.

As they left, Dawn’s nose twitched again, the feline girl whining softly in the back of her throat…

Back at the Hotel

When they got back to the hotel however they found the concierge waiting outside their room, with the police.

“THERE you are!” he shouted, “Officer! Arrest this vandal!” he snapped.

Nelen took a step back, “Woah woah! Hang on! We just got back, whats this all about?” he asked.

“Whats this all about… your room is completely destroyed! You had better believe I’ll be pressing charges for this Mr. Ferguson!” he shouted, and Nelen immediately glanced at the cop. He’d signed in under a false name. This could be getting messy…

“Hey! If someone trashed the place it wasn’t me. Me and my kid were out driving around today, c’mon whats this all about?” he asked.

“See for yourself!” frowned the concierge, standing back and jerking a thumb towards the room. Nelen walked to the door and winced.

The mattress on the bed had been torn to pieces, the TV taken apart as if by a hammer, and scratched into the wall above the bed were the words ‘Go Away!’

“Okay, look. I know this looks bad, but this wasn’t me. Check the security cameras! You’ll see me and my kid leaving hours ago!” he insisted.

The cop however was far more composed than the hotel worker. “Afraid Mr. Ferguson is right sir. What we could see on the cameras clearly showed he left the premises.” he nodded, “That being said, about two hours ago the camera on this floor wound up in the same state as your room, so we can’t prove whether or not you came back…” he added as the concierge grinned in a smug way.

“Someone is going to pay to have this room rebuilt sir, and the room is in YOUR name.” he nodded.

Nelen glanced between them, then sighed… “Fine fine, I guess if I gotta then I go- DAWN!” he shouted, ducking as the girl scrambled up his back, whipped off her glasses, and there was a sudden bright flash from her eyes.

The cop and the concierge dropped to the floor like puppets with their strings cut, the cop gasping and frantically pawing at his shirt as the concierge whimpered and covered his mouth, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“Spiders and scorpions, we got a minute tops.” she nodded. “Poof to the car and initiate Plan fifty three?”

“Got it in one Dawn.” he replied.

Plan fifty three: RUN LIKE HELL!

A minute later a rental car was burning rubber out of the parking lot, Nelen speeding off down the road and sighing. “Dammit, I liked that place too.” he frowned. He was glad he’d at least kept their luggage in the car this time.

“Yeaaaaaaah, pity. Ah well, back to the ‘bedbugs, whats that, never heard of ‘em’ hotels for us.” she shrugged.

Nelen sighed and nodded, grateful that his partner could pull that trick off.

Dawn was a mixed breed, half tortoiseshell cat, half Cheshire cat… as in the Cheshire cat of Wonderland, and besides the teleportation and invisibility the grinning feline was known for she also had another trick that hadn’t made it into the works of Lewis Carrol.

They called it her ‘Wonderland Eyes.’ Dawn carried a little piece of Wonderland inside her and by making eye contact she could show it to anyone, inflicting them with hallucinations and insanity temporarily. There’s only so much the human mind can cope with. Still that meant that they would have a cop who after the spiders went away would have had every reason to believe he was fleeing the scene of a crime.

“Well, at least we know something. Whatever did this is able to pass among humanity.” he nodded.

“Oh?” she asked.

“Those claw marks on the walls were the same kind on that engine block. I think whatever lives in that house saw us there today and figured out where we were staying somehow…” he sighed, “Fucking hells I bet I know what it is too.” he nodded.

Then he told her.

Dawn winced, “Yeaaaaah, had a hunch. I mean I smelled something like that back there, but I was hoping it was just the mundane kind.” she frowned.

He sighed, “Well, at least I can say I’m doing the family business this time.” he smirked ruefully, “Either way, we gotta get back to that house, preferably before dark.” he nodded.

Soon, back at the half-ruined house.

From the gloom of the house came a snarling snapping sound, an elderly looking hobo of a man hunched over what was once a wild raccoon. His face and hair were matted with blood, his clothes clearly second hand. “Fuckers better go after that…” he snarled, then paused, sniffing at the air as he heard something nearby.

“Yanno, I really liked that room.” came a voice from the shadows of the ruined house.

The man snarled, baring his teeth. “MY LAIR! GET OUT! MINE!” he barked.

“If they make me pay for it, I’m going to be pissed.” he said, the voice echoing oddly.

The man glared around him, sniffing, but the scent was… gone? He couldn’t smell anything of him, even soap. “Who’re you?” he grunted.

“Sorry that rich asshole wants your house. He must’ve believed the story about you dying of an overdose in prison, but a bit of heroin won’t stop one of you for long will it?” came Nelen’s voice. “Your parents had no idea did they? Must’ve been a recessive gene somewhere. First change came and you had nobody to tell you what was going on or show you how to cope with it.”

The man snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness of the wrecked house. “Monster! They called me a monster! Their fucking son! I had to… I had hunt! I had to chase and bite and tear and eat!” he snarled.

“Pity... You’d think one of the local packs would have found you, but I guess they might not have realized what was up until after you got arrested.” came Nelen’s voice again. “Too late now. Wrong guy noticed you. He wants a neat summer home in Arkansas, but I think a rich businessman like that would find the idea of capturing you to sell you off to the Cheiron Group to be way too good a payout to pass up.”

The hobo snarled again, and as he did his body seemed to get bigger.

“Its not your fault, I’m still willing to help you escape. Plenty of wilder areas around here where some of your kind still live out in the open, though a half-feral like you would be a really hard sell…” his voice came again.

The hobo glared, baring fangs from a now long furry muzzle, his clothing tearing free from his body. He barely noticed it, his clawed feet pawing at the floor as he straightened up to a full ten feet in height.

“… but we gotta do something. You did good staying hidden for a long time, but we can’t have a lone werewolf running wild.” came Nelen’s voice.

The werewolf roared in fury, breathing in deeply, his ears twitching and flicking around.

“Don’t bother, I’m using a scent charm and a cantrip to throw my voice. I could be standing right behind you, I could be outside the damn house.” came Nelen’s voice again, “Ever hear of Clan Fullmoon? We specialize in werewolves. We were formed to deal with the old cannibal packs of Ireland. I’m not some jackass with a gun and a hat that says ‘bounty hunter’ old man, I know what I’m doing.”

The werewolf ignored him and lunged, smashing through a half-rotted kitchen table, scattering the wood! His head snapping up as he sniffed around again, trying to find some trace of a smell.

“Yeah, see, this is how I can tell. Any werewolf in a pack knows how to balance man and beast, but you? You’re all beast now. You never learned how. Your soul is so far outta whack you can’t even understand what I’m saying anymore can you?” asked Nelen.

The werewolf lunged again, crashing through a wall!

“Yep, thought so. Well fine then.” he said, and from outside the house came a faint whistling sound. “Here boy! Here puppy! Over here! C’mon boy!”

A moment later the front door and most of the wall around it came down as the werewolf charged through it, seeing a man shaped figure on the ground. “Oooo! Almost! C’mon boy! You can do it! Fetch the stick boy!”

The werewolf roared in fury, rushing towards the prone figure, then tackling it and digging his teeth in.

A moment later there was a crash of thunder and the werewolf went rigid as a bolt of lightning arced down from the sky and slammed into him, sending him flying with a loud yelp!

“Goooood boy. Sit. Stay.” came Nelen’s voice as he walked into view with a stick that had several runes carved onto it, lowering the hand he was using to direct the soundwaves, a strange wooden charm dangling from a string around his wrist.

The werewolf lay unconscious next to the smoldering remains of the scarecrow Nelen had swiped from a local farm, the sack cloth man set ablaze by the lightning bolt. Laying on the ground nearby was a copper coin inscribed with the symbol of Thor’s hammer. Not an Irish trick, but hell, shock collars worked on mundane dogs. For a werewolf you just had to scale up appropriately.

“So now what? We stick a silver knife through his heart?” asked Dawn as she appeared next to him.

Nelen looked down at the stunned lycanthrope, then sighed, “… his own fucking parents called him a monster Dawn, you heard him.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “You’re not seriously considering…” she frowned.

“Yeah, I made a call while you were in the bathroom at the library. C’mon, get the back door open.” he said, taking out a charm that looked like a crescent moon. “I’ll make sure Fido stays asleep.” he said, tying it around the stunned werewolf’s wrist.

The wilds of Alabama, some time later.

The werewolf’s eyes flew open. It was nighttime now, the moon high in the sky, and he was far from his lair.

He snarled, looking around. This area smelled different, very different, where was he?! Where did that human take him?! Where…

And then a howl went up in the distance, his ears going up.

He could understand that howl… it had no words, but somehow… he just knew.

‘We are like you, we understand, come to us brother.’

The werewolf gazed out across the wilderness. He’d ached to hear such a thing for years and years… more than he could count. He threw his head back and howled in response, then tore off into the woods towards the source of the sound. He was an old wolf, it had taken years, but the one thing that a werewolf couldn’t exist properly without was their pack.

Nelen sat nearby on the hood of the car, then opened his phone and called a specific number, “Yeah. Hey yeah its me. House is all clear now. Your men can get back to work tomorrow. Just wire the money to…” he paused, then pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yeah look, that wasn’t my fault. The mark found out where we were staying and came after me okay? The hotel is insured right?” he asked, then sighed, “Alright alright fine… whatever.” he sighed, then disconnected the call.

Dawn looked over at him, laying on her back as she gazed up at the stars. They were far enough from the cities that they could see them properly. “Hotel wants him to pay for the room?” she asked.

He sighed, “To be fair Dawn, he did make the reservation so it’s his card on file.” he replied.

Dawn rolled her eyes, “Sheesh, so we’re doing this pro-bono?” she asked.

Nelen smirked, “No, because I already know you emptied his wallet before we left the office that day.”

Dawn grinned at him, “Whaaaaaaaat? I thought the rule was client always pays up front, even if they don’t know they are.” she replied.

Nelen smirked, “So, we definitely can’t go back to that town for a while. Swap the rental’s plates, head down to New Orleans, and invest some of that at the fish market?” he asked.

Dawn grinned as only a Cheshire can grin, “Now THAT sounds like a good idea!” she cackled. In the distance, another howl went up, and you didn’t need to be a wolf (or a wolf-like being) to recognize that the one howling was happy.

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[tacticalhimbo]

All of these are good, and there are a lot more out there, too! The whole point of dog-whistling is to be subtle. To 'blend in' with non-extremist groups and covertly unify hateful individuals.

I'm going to add a few other things to look out for, compiled from Jewitches' ANTISEMITISM EDUCATION page and the Anti-Defamation League's Hate Symbol Database. This isn't an extensive list, and I recommend doing additional research:

Numerical Dog Whistles:

109 or 109/110 -> Refers to the idea of Jews being exiled from 109 countries. The “110” indicates the intent to ethnically cleanse Jews from another country (generally the one in which the antisemite resides).

6 Million or 6 Gorillion -> Refers to the number of Jews murdered in the Holocaust. Antisemites will use terms like “gorillion” and other variations to avoid detection as well as to denote exaggeration in reference to their belief that Jews exaggerate the Holocaust. The word “muh” may be added in front to represent “my '' in a weak or complaining manner, to reference that Jews are whiny.

6MWE -> An additive to the previous idea, standing for "Six Million Wasn't Enough".

1-11 / 12 / 13 / 14 and 1423 -> All whistles toward various specific groups. 1-11 refers to Idaho's Aryan Knights (AK); 12 refers to the Aryan Brotherhood; 13 refers to Texas' Aryan Circle (AC); 14 and 1423 refer to the 14 Words (We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children) and it's broad usage among groups, including the Alabama's Southern Brotherhood.

Terms and Conspiracy Theories:

AKIA -> Stands for "A Klansman I Am"; A covert greeting.

Ballpoint Pen -> A form of Holocaust denial in which Neo-Nazi’s claim that Anne Frank’s diary is a falsified or entirely fake document because “ballpoint pens didn’t exist at that time”.

Blut und Boden (Blood and Soil) -> A vital Nazi slogan that emphasizes the Nazi rhetoric of "racial purity" (blood) and the settlement of land (soil) and return to the "true" Aryan ways, which Nazis partly believed had been upheld by rural German communities as they were "untouched" by Jews.

Early Life / Early Lifer -> Referring to the Early Life section of Wikipedia, where one can find out if a person has been born into a Jewish family. A means of identifying someone as Jewish.

Prussian Blue -> Holocaust deniers will sometimes use the term “Prussian Blue” to doubt that gas chambers ever existed, or more specifically that Zyklon B was used.

Christian Specific Antisemitism:

John 7:1 -> The quote, “After these things Jesus walked in Galilee: for he would not walk in Jewry, because the Jews sought to kill him” from John 7:1, is often used to promote the trope of Jews being the ones who killed Christ but also utilizes the secondary trope in which Jews are “sneaky” or “conniving” and cannot be trusted.

John 8:44 -> While not the exact quote from the New Testament, Christian antisemites use this part in the Bible to say, “Jews are the children of Satan.” Recently in 2018, the white supremacist who went into the Tree of Life synagogue quoted this text on his social media page.

John 10:31 -> This part of the Bible accuses Jews of attacking Jesus by throwing stones at him. Christian antisemites usually quote this verse to further the myth that Jews killed Jesus to justify centuries of hatred or the full extermination of the Jews.

Luke 19:11-27 -> When weaponized, this verse is used to call Jews “untrustworthy enemies” because of their refusal of Jesus, as well as to justify violence against Jews due to the parable and Jesus’ line, "But those enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here, and slay them in my presence.”

Matthew 12:30 -> “He who is not with me is against me” is often used to attempt to convert Jews under threat of violence.

Matthew 23 (22:33-34) -> The quote, “…you testify against yourselves that you are descendants of those who murdered the prophets…You snakes, you brood of vipers! How can you escape being sentenced to hell?” mimics a similar trope used in John 7:1. Christians who weaponize this verse also seek to accuse Jews as the ones who killed Jesus, accuse Jews of being venomous sneaks, but add the belief that Jews are destined to spend an eternity in hell for existing.

Identifying fascists and their friends on tumblr

Most important step--who do they reblog from? If they reblog from fascists, they're a fascist. Look out for the following things in URLs/bios/posts. If you see it, it MIGHT be unintentional, but 95% of the time the person is a reactionary.

NOT A COMPLETE LIST. More can be found on the Anti-Defamation League's website. Feel free to add your own.

Antisemitic Dogwhistles:

(((Triple parentheses)))--used by antisemites to identify Jewish names

"Cultural Marxists"--means Jews

"The mysterious, wealthy elites"--means Jews

"Powerful satanic pedophiles"--means Jews

"XYZ Jew or rich person is secretly a lizard/robot/alien"--hearkens to the Jews control the world narrative

Generalized statements about Israel as a major global power/influencing the US

"Controlled media"

"International bankers"

Referencing "certain people on the east coast of the US"

"New York intellectual"

"Dual loyalty"

Overt fixation on the Rothschilds/George Soros

Depictions of unlikeable people as having hooded eyelids, dark curly hair, large hooked noses

"Controlling the masses, puppet master, mastermind"

References to or depictions of the happy merchant

ZOG/Zionist Occupied Government

Nonspecific language and rhetoric often used by fascists/friends of fascists:

Cumbrain

Smoothbrain--eugenicist phrasing

Correcting for overpopulation--ecofascist rhetoric

Degenerate

Social Darwinism/survival of the fittest/natural selection

Traditional values

Symbology to double check:

Scandinavian symbology (inc. Norse runes)

American front cross

Celtic cross

Depictions of German soldiers (w/ or w/o swastika)

Imperial German flag

Iron Cross

Eagle (akin to Nazi eagle)

Pepe the Frog (for real)

Wojak (paying attention to any other symbols added to it or showing a deformed head/damaged brain)

URLs + Self-identifiers to be wary of:

Trad/traditional/traditionalist

Monarchist

Punished

Risen

Nationalist

Crucified

Aryan

Unforgiven

Patriarch

Patriot

Fallen

Chad

Egalitarian

Unrepentant

Prussia/Prussian

Liberty

Anglican

Catholicism/saints/church (yep)

Numbers to look at:

83

14 88 (together or individually)

[that-irishman-fan]

dr. strangelove or how i learned to stop worrying and love the bomb headcanons!

Hello everyone, new to this blog or old friends, and welcome to my first real fanfic post on this blog! I have recently been extending my taste in film further due to my love for cinema, and this movie is one of the many I adore. I hope you don’t mind me straying from my typical content, and will allow me to indulge here! These are an array of my personal headcanons for the movie Dr. Strangelove ( 1964, Stanley Kubrick ) and its characters! Please note that these are merely my opinion and are not all canon in the official Kubrick universe. With that, let’s get right into this--its been a long time coming!

Trigger warnings: Mention of verbal abuse, orphaning, Christian upbringing, Nazi mentions, swearing, implied violence, and general tomfoolery. 

There is little to no content on Tumblr revolving around this criminally underrated and under-appreciated film, so I’m here to help fill that void, and maybe even bring some of you into the fanbase of this fantastic movie.

I’ll start with some backstories on the characters, all of which are my personal opinions and are subject to change if new information comes out about them ( highly unlikely though, which is sad! )

General Buck Turgidson was born Bartholomew Turgidson in a rural small town of Texas in the early 1920s. He was a military brat from a young age; with a navy commander father and nurse mother, who had returned from WW1 before he was born. An only child, he grew up in a rigid Baptist Christian home where discipline was the foundation. He joined the military at seventeen, dropping out of school to climb the ranks to where he is at the start of the actual movie. 

President Merkin Muffley was born in the 1920s as well, but to an upper class American family reminiscent of the Kennedy’s or Roosevelt’s. His father and uncles were all in politics, as senators, mayors, lawyers, or prosecutors, so it was inevitable that he would follow suit. His mother died when he was six, traumatizing the boy and leaving him under the cruel reign of his stepmom. She was verbally abusive, demeaning the boy and degrading him, and subsequently shows why he’s so submissive in the future. But he had a great relationship with his dad and three siblings, his brother and two sisters who all became prominent like him. He is a Democrat, and ran against a significant Republican candidate. He won for his diplomatic approaches and stance on nuclear war. 

My personal favourite character, Dr. Strangelove is next! My canon name for him is Jürgen Werner Merkwuerdigliebe, of which he changed to Jürgen Strangelove when he became an American citizen after the war. I will not try to glorify his appalling Nazi background, not at all. It is fucked up, and I hate him for it. But I must make a backstory for him, which I’ll do here. Strangelove was born in Berlin to a high class family who were pretty much second class royalty. His dad was a famous eugenicist and military scientist, whilst his mom was the daughter of the Chancellor of Germany, a gorgeous German version of Marilyn Monroe. Strangelove was not born paralyzed though, but he was physically weaker than boys his age. He was ridden to a wheelchair after an experiment exploded in his early career for the Nazis, taking off his arm and leaving him crippled. 

General Jack D. Ripper was born John Daker Ripper ( how many of you will catch what I did there, LMFAO, comment if you did ) in the 1900s in Alabama. However, he was orphaned at a young age, as was Lionel Mandrake. I’ll detail Mandrake’s past in another post, and Ripper’s further as well, but I am currently facing writer’s block here. 

I hope these were okay, I’m running out of ideas right now due to my block, but I wanted to give you guys something here. Have a great rest of your week and look forward to more content to come!

[sillybub]

When you were first interested in cats? How did you come across it?

I hope like 1,433-word answers!

When I was but a child, naïve to sufferings and strife that existed outside the warm confines of the blankets that swaddled me in my bed, I had a favorite character. A dinosaur, infamously purple, with a perpetually friendly disposition. Barney, he is colloquially called.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The real story begins years before I was even a thought in my parents' heads.

The year is 1998, and director Steve Gomer had yet to find his footing as a filmmaker. The few directing credits he had to his name were all flops, and were lucky to get even 6 stars.

Enter Stephen White, longtime writer for the Barney and Friends series. With the grace of a man who has seen his fair share of hardships in the tumultuous world of writing for film and television, White extended his hand and pulled Gomer into his latest project: Barney the dinosaur's very first feature film.

Spirits were surely high for the film's production. After all, Barney was a household name, and he was adored by children all across the world--surely it would be an automatic hit!

Alas, the film failed to make back it's budget, crossing only a little over $12 million out of the $15 million budget. It had even been torn to shreds by critics, having but 3.2 stars on IMDb.

But those are critics. Not the audience of young, starry-eyed children for whom it was intended. I can tell you that Barney's Great Adventure was actually a smash hit and wild success, because Gomer and White's whimsical creation had 6-year-old-me in a chokehold, 8 years after the film's release. I watched that movie damn near every night when I was a kid. My siblings hated me for it. But I was thriving.

However, there is a dark side to every tale. A shadow realm.

For every night, as I stuck the VHS tape into my tiny little TV, I would dive under my blanket until the reassuring sounds Barney's delightful giggles, coaxing me back out.

I'm sure I don't need to tell Cats fans what other movie came out in 1998.

But I will tell you that in the trailer, the first song they decided to showcase was "Macavity the Mystery Cat". Now, although this is now one of my favorite songs in the show, I want to take you back to my 6 year old self.

I see darkness. Then sudden flashing. A burst of music, and strange cat-human hybrids fill my screen. They are darkly lit, and I can't make out their faces, and they move inhumanly. They sing of some scary monster or fiend who's out to get them. It's more terror than I can take. Like a proverbial ostrich hoping to escape danger, I stick my head under the blanket. I don't watch long enough to see the friendlier songs. All I hear are strange voices saying nonsense words, because I grew up in rural Alabama and British accents may as well have been another language to me.

But I loved Barney. So I endured.

Cut to 2019, fall semester. I'm in the middle of writing a literary analysis on Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. I need a break badly, because I'm digging my own rabbit hole and I'm going to die in it unless I decompress.

I scroll through Netflix, and some force of the universe tugs on the string of fate, and I am guided towards Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

But Beverly Hills Chihuahua. "Huh," I think. "That's a funny movie to blow off my Faulkner analysis to watch." So I watch it. And it was fine. Nothing special.

And then the next day, I mention to my friend that I watched Beverly Hills Chihuahua. She says, "Oh, what's it about?"

And because I have no self-control, I launch into a beat-by-beat retelling of the entire film. And as I describe it to her, I find myself deeply analyzing the symbolism of the film. I'm losing track of my own thoughts, so I write them up on the whiteboard. I'm connecting the dots. I've been stuck in an analytical mindset for so long because of my Faulkner essay that I can't turn it off, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua becomes an unfortunate casualty.

"Robin", my friend says. "You've been at this for three hours. Are you okay?"

I look at my phone. She's right. I'd been deeply analyzing Beverly Hills goddamn Chihuahua for three hours.

But I felt like I'd been struck by divine lightning. I have a purpose.

Cut to winter break. I sequester myself into the basement and watch three Beethoven (the dog) movies in a row, taking notes like a madman. This is my new personality trait.

It's so much fun. Everybody has a hot take on Citizen Kane, or Life of Pi. But nobody has deeper thoughts about animal movies for children, and I thought it would be funny to have these kinds of analyses in my back pocket. I consume dog movie after dog movie, because dogs are the easiest animal to train as an actor, so they have way more movies about them. Air Bud. 101 Dalmatians. Balto. Hotel for Dogs. I was hyperfixated.

But as I consume these dog movies like a ravenous shark, I begin to see headlines for a property I never thought I'd see again.

Tom Hooper directing. Starring Rebel Wilson and James Corden.

I hadn't given Cats a single thought since I outgrew Barney.

The reviews come in. It's a nightmare. People are saying that it has the plot and structure of some kind of art house film, that resists any kind of interpretation.

I felt like my entire life had been leading up to this moment. Cats became my white whale. My final boss.

"Let's go see it," I begged my siblings. "Come on, it'll be funny." They relented, for they had nothing better to do on December 26th.

We had the the entire theater to ourselves. My siblings roasted the hell out of it. They looked on in horror as Jason Derulo was fully about to suck toes.

But I? I was fascinated. I took notes. My mind was ablaze with trying to decipher and piece together these events. My task at hand was to prove that there was some kind of profound and deeper meaning.

The credits roll, and my brothers and sister are cackling about how awful that was. What a joke. Who approved this? Why would they let Tom Hooper direct this?

"Robin," my sister says. "What did you think? This was your idea."

Rebel Wilson peeling her skin off replayed in my mind. And memories of the 1998 trailer kept replaying in my head. Was Cats always this terrifying?

"I need to do more research," I told her.

The second I got home, I looked up Cats, and was delighted to find the entire 1998 movie up on YouTube. Steeling myself, I played the first part of "Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats".

This is... actually quite fun. Now that I have a more high def visual, these costumes are actually really creative. And these performers are incredibly talented.

...It’s over already? Well, let me just watch it again, since I know what to expect now.

I watched it five times in a row. I didn't take a single note because I had been completely distracted by how much fun I was having. I kept seeing new little details. I was learning their names. I was getting to know them.

Days later, my sister approaches me. "Do you have any profound and mind-blowing thoughts yet?" she asks.

"No. Did you know that Cats is actually really good? Come watch it with me."

She had a good time, too. And when I got back to college, I made my friends watch it with me.

As I do with every new piece of media I consume, I looked it up on Tumblr, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it had an active fandom.

I have long ago abandoned the need to deeply analyze Cats. I love it for what it is; I don't need to go digging for a reason to enjoy it like I did with dog movies. The wonder and magic of it is enough. I don't need or want it to have a deep and profound meaning.

"Robin," I hear you say. "Why did you write a fucking novel to answer this question?"

Because, my sweet followers. I needed you to understand that a cat movie is not a dog movie.

[punksdocrimes]

I'm not even disabled nor do I have trouble driving a car but I still suffer horribly from a lack of public transport or living in a walkable community. I live 20 minutes either direction to civilization by car in rural bumfuck Alabama. I don't have access to a car. I can drive, I just don't have a car — and I live with my grandparents (except they're probably younger than your parents — my dad was a pedo; long story) which makes things worse because yk they expect the whole bootstraps thing. I can't get a job, I haven't been able to hang out with my friends in months, I have no credit or debit card, I can't start college — I literally can't do anything. I'm just stuck at home in perpetuity, rotting away my days hoping I'm randomly bestowed a functioning car or that my grandpa will fix up my old one (that he wrecked). I graduated this May and it fucking SUCKS having to watch my friends and peers start their adult lives and actually do stuff, while I just play video games and watch TV all day because there is literally nothing else to do where I live.

That's how fucking shitty car-dependent infrastructure is. You literally cannot have a life without a car. If I didn't live with people who provided for me, I legitimately would just fucking starve to death. The nearest grocery store is like an 8 hour walk one way across hilly ass terrain — and I can't maintain a job (because there's nowhere to work within like 10 miles of where I live) so after I spend the little cash that I have, I couldn't even buy groceries. I'd just have to die. We don't have even land to work!! You are forced to have a car or just die. There is no place for you in the US if you don't have a car unless you live in an urban area.

I can't even imagine how shitty it is for someone who couldn't drive even if they had a car. You legitimately can't have or do anything. No love life, no friends, no job, no going to a park when you're stressed or just want to relax, no going out to eat (and if you live so far away from civilization that food delivery services don't even go to your area like me then you can't even Doordash a nice meal home). . . You're just fucked.

And there is no quicker route to depression than being eternally stuck in your home, trust me. I've dealt with depression all my life, but god these last few months I've had it ***BAD***. I'm not actively suicidal or anything like I was last year or anything, I'm just apathetic to fucking everything. It's impossible for me to feel anything these days. I wake up and I stare at the ceiling for 30 minutes to an hour before I can muster enough will to crawl out of bed to shower.

Just goddamn I hate car-dependent infrastructure so much and ESPECIALLY fucking suburban and rural hellscapes. Yk if you live in like a little rural community in like Western Europe there's probably a bus route that goes through your area at least, maybe you have to walk 30 minutes to get to it but at least you have one. Good fucking luck if you live in the US though.

incomprehensible to me that 90% of arguments about public transportation infrastructure in the USA circle back around to “but some people still need cars for x, y, and z”

yes. correct. and less people on the road would make it significantly easier (and safer) for vehicles to drive around. you guys get that, right? public transportation isn’t universally accessible—and neither is private transportation, which means that under our current system, people whose disabilities render them unable to drive a car suffer horribly. horribly

[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys and what Romcom I think they’d fit in

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi and Daishou.

*SOME OF THESE MAY BE A STRETCH I am aware of that BUT JUST HEAR ME OUT! IT WORKS I SWEAR!*

*SPOILER WARNING!! I don’t go too in depth about the movies, but if you haven’t seen them, it might spoil them but Idk*

Akaashi Keiji: “The Wedding Singer”

I love the idea of him being this cool, and collected guy that everyone loves and we just see him sNaP.

I think he’d be the most likely to fall in love with someone in a similar situation to him, and to fall in love with someone who’s engaged (that sounds bad, but liSten) but not happy.

Then he fights for them because HE wants to be the one they love, and he wants to love them like they deSERVE to be loved.

And I think it would EnD me to see him rush to the airport and get his girl.

Washio Tatsuki: “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”

He’s a caring and respectful dude, so I see him as taking someone’s family/traditions seriously.

Hence why I think HE specifically fits perfectly for this movie.

He probably meets the reader at work, and BOOM love.

But when the reader tells him about their flamboyant family, he’s just like ‘cool, when can I meet them?’ Y’knOw?

Might be a bit startled at first cause he’s a pretty chill man himself, but I think he’d warm up to the family just fine.

Konoha Akinori: “Mr. Right”

AGAIN a stretch I KNOW. 

But if anyone on this list could pull off falling love by accident AND as an assassin? 

Yeah I think it’d be him.

He’s kind of a brat, so the whole rollercoaster kinda love works for him.

I also would just love to see him as an assassin.

idk man, but I think his personality (minus the murderous traits) fits with Sam Rockwell's character well.

Kita Shinsuke: “Sweet Home Alabama”

I promise this was not just because of the series I’m writing, iT JUST FITS!

I see him as the most likely on this list to marry their high school sweetheart.

And then the whole separation/enemies to lovers thing it just works.

THINK ABOUT IT, he’s in one of the more rural parts of Japan, he becomes a farmer, and he has an accent?!?!

The signs are there people.

Suna Rintaro: “When In Rome”

He comes off as a lazy and carefree guy, but he does have feelings, he just hides them.

Puts on a joking and carefree demeanor to hide how he actually feels about things/past events.

I just feel like the whole trope and storyline of this particular movie fits with his character well.

Much like Akaashi, I see him falling for someone with a bad boyfriend or something like that, and proving to the girl how he’d be better to her or something like that.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: “She’s The Man”

He takes his job as captain very seriously.

So just imagine this scrawny little “guy” joins Shiratorizawa’s boy’s volleyball team to spite her ex who played at a different school (*cough* OIKAWA).

I love the idea of the reader falling in love with Ushijima as she’s learning more about herself and proving herself.

And I feel like it’d be funny to see his reaction when he finds out the scrawny little “newbie” is a girl who he has fEeLiNgs fOr.

Yahaba Shigeru: “Music and Lyrics”

If anyone on this list could pull off being a cocky one-hit wonder it’s Yahaba.

I love the idea of him falling in love with a wanna be song writer, but messing up.

So now he has to fix it by professing his love to her with the song they wrote.

It just  f i t s.

Iwaizumi Hajime: “Romancing The Stone”

This is an older one but it’s really good! Like Kita’s I watched this one and just thought “Iwaizumi+Mountain man....Okay”

So imagine you’re a hopeless romantic romance-adventure author who has to go to South America to give this map to some guys or else your sister dies.

AND THEN you meet this attractive, rugged, ex-mercenary man who saves you from all this stuff and begrudgingly agrees to help you get there.

And along the way when you’re not being shot at the two of you ~fall in love~ but then you find out he *lied* and now you’re `mad` but it’s okay cause it all works out in the end.

Futakuchi Kenji: “You’ve Got Mail”

The master of the enemies to lovers trope.

Definitely annoys the reader to no end, but it’s just covering up the two’s feelings for the other.

He fits the whole cold problematic business man who falls for the owner of the small bookstore he wants to turn into a mall.

His problematic family doesn’t help much either but WiLL ThAt StOp HiM? no

I just like the idea of him getting transformed by the reader and falling in love when they hated each other.

Daishou Suguru: “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before”

Another master of the enemies to lovers trope.

I also see him fitting into the ‘fake date to make the ex-girlfriend jealous’ as his payment to helping the reader fend off all of her ‘accidental’ suitors.

I definitely see him as someone to go above and beyond in his actions, then actually fall in love with the girl he’s ‘dating’ then he’s just like...oops.

I also would like to see him tell off his ex cause now he’s in love with the girl he was fake dating.

And yeah, I just think this one works for him.

[fuck-you-showerthoughts]

I really hate the "[rural area of the US], hur dur" argument. Like, you could point to royalty in general/the Hapsburgs in specific to talk about GoT, but what's the fun in that if you can just make fun of rural poor people in a woke way?

I’m pretty sure they weren’t serious cuz Alabama = Incest is like a meme but ya lol

[moonlight-breeze-44]

A Rant.

Hello, all! It has been a very long time since I've done one of these, but here we are, I guess. I rarely make personal posts on here, and it's been years since my last rant. (If you've followed me since the beginning and know my rants - first of all, I'm sorry. Second of all, why?)

ANYWAY.

Today it occurred to me, as I was driving home from the post office, of all places, that as much as I complain about small town life and how much I hate the country, and say that as soon as I'm done with university I'm going to move somewhere different? It's a complete lie. I don't hate it. I actually love it. It's been my home for years, whether I want to admit it or not.

I mean, really, it's high time I accept it - I'm a country girl. That's who I am, and I'm pretty confident that's who I'll always be. I live for the wide open spaces, for the feeling of the wind in my hair as I fly down a back road during summer, for the cool breeze on my skin as I read a book on the front porch and let the sun soak into me. I love country music and I love grilling burgers on the deck and I love tearing through fields in a pickup truck with my music blasting. It's what I was raised on, and it'll always be a huge part of my heart.

What I don't love is being afraid to wear a gay pride t-shirt out to shop for groceries. What I don't love is trying to ignore the whispers about my haircut when I get gas. What I don't love is the people in my tiny, rural town trying to tell me I don't belong because I'm a lesbian.

Because you know what? I do belong, goddammit, and I'm tired of being treated like I don't.

I love fast cars and bacon in the mornings and feeding the horses every day when I was a little girl. I work hard and I'm kind, welcoming, and caring, and I love my stupid small-town life. The fact that I am also gay should not fucking negate that.

I should be able to feel like I can marry a woman I love someday and raise my children in the country where I feel like I belong, even when people try to tell me I don't. I should be able to raise animals with my wife and be a member of this community that's kicked me out for so long, and I should be able to put my children into a school that won't destroy their mental health piece by piece by piece. I want that.

Will I get that? Probably not. The world is too prejudiced sometimes, and small towns like mine haven't caught up to states like California yet. I hope someday they will, but in all reality? I doubt it'll happen in my lifetime. And all of that wasn't to say that if the woman of my dreams came wandering along from New York, that I wouldn't go right back with her and live a boring 9-5 and be happy with myself still. I would, because I'd love her and the life we made together. But if I had my choice, if the rest of my life was ideal and I got everything I wanted? I'd raise a few kids with my wife in Alabama (I don't live in Alabama now; but if I had my choice of states, that'd be the one I'd pick) and write books and love life.

And everyone deserves that.

Everyone deserves to love freely, without reservations, and everyone deserves the compassion and kindness of others. I'm a psychology major. I understand the human brain. I understand homophobia. That doesn't mean that I like it, or that I don't get absolutely fucking sick of it sometimes.

There's nothing wrong with being LGBT+. Kissing my wife or holding hands with her isn't going to scar any children; if anything, it's going to teach them that it's okay to be different. I'm not very religious, but if I was? I deserve to be able to walk into a church without being looked at like I'm the human embodiment of sin. We aren't asking for much here, people.

We're just asking to be treated right. Show kindness, use compassion, and don't judge. There's not a single thing wrong with love, and I & everyone else like me should never have to feel ashamed to love who they love - out in the open and loud & proud, even in the sticks.

[atlas-affogato]

So I grew up right on the edge of Appalachia, I wouldn't say we lived in the region, but the mountains were right there. I grew up in Virginia, and it was a short 10 minute drive over the border to West Virginia and into the mountains, so while I won't claim to be from the region or to be an expert, there's a few things that set this region apart from the rest of the US.

So Appalachia as a whole is a region following the Appalachian mountains range, from New York in the North all the way down the east of the country into Mississippi and Alabama in the South. The borders of the region have been contested a bit, with some people focusing more on topography while others focus on the culture of the area.

The Appalachian mountains are millions of years old, pre-dating pangea and the separation of the continents, and they've been worn down over the course of millions of years to form these softened, rolling mountain ranges of many ridges and valleys.

Its a temperate deciduous forest much like most of Europe and parts of East Asia.

I will try and keep the history lesson brief because there's a lot of stuff that went down in this region, and not all of it is relevant. But there are a few things that lead to Appalachia being a focus point of so much horror: stereotypes about the people who live there, the superstitions/supernatural of the region, and fear of the mountains and forest themselves.

Appalachia is rich in natural resources, namely lumber and coal, which lead to large mining companies setting up shop in the mountains, setting up work towns isolated from larger communities because of the natural topography making road and rail travel difficult (along with the government not providing adequate funding to maintain roads)

Companies also benefited from the isolation of workers, when you're the only company in town and leaving town to find different work is difficult, companies can exploit and underpay their workers. And with how much money these coal mines made, the less they paid their workers, the richer they got.

Politicians exploited the area and its workers, motivated by the riches of the area to not maintain proper roads, schools, or social infrastructure, in order to trap workers in the region and not allow said workers to grow economically and out from under their thumb. This led to lower rates of education and kept the population trapped in poverty.

This is where the stereotype of "stupid hillbillies" comes from, from systemic neglect of the education system in the region. Lies and stereotypes spread about the region, calling the residents stupid, socially and politically inept, and insular and hateful towards those outside of their community.

This is the largest stereotype that persists to this day and shows up in countless horror movies such as The Hills Have Eyes, Wrong Turn, or Deliverance. Portraying Appalachian residents as unintelligent, inbred, cannibalistic monsters that will hunt and eat any city folk that wander into their town. This is obviously not true, you'd be more likely to buy apples at a stand on the side of the road, or comfort food at a restaurant inside a gas station than you are to run into any of these (definitely real) cannibals.

When it comes to supernatural elements and superstitions of the area, Appalachia has plenty of folk stories and monsters, same as any other rural area, I don't think Appalachia is unique in that aspect. Stories spring up for any number of reason, whether you believe in the supernatural or not, the stories exist and people believe them. The mothman is probably the most famous of the region, as shown above.

Some people believe Appalachia is more susceptible to spiritual and supernatural manifestations because of its age. There are stories of winged creatures, a cat that can make people go insane, ghosts, floating lights, UFOs, and others. Some stories originate from native American legends, some originated later with white settlers, and coal miners. There are also superstitions, some seen only there, some more wide spread. Don't whistle at night, don't say the name of the supernatural creatures (which I will not be typing either), if something calls your name ignore it and leave the area immediately. People argue over the reasonings behind these superstitions, but at the end of the day, they follow them regardless.

There are plenty of things that make Appalachia creepy, especially to those unfamiliar with the region. The fog clinging to the mountains is a common environmental element of horror movies, setting a tone of unease and darkness.

In general, the forest is thick and dense. We often joked our neighbors doubled in the winter, and it is true that when driving through rural areas in the summer vs the winter we would see twice if not three times as many houses and barns as before, now that the foliage no longer hid them from view from the road. The forest is also overtaken by kudzu in some areas, an invasive creeping vine plant brought over to America to control erosion.

Kudzu can rapidly destroy homes, down power lines, and choke out trees and other plants in the area, and it can be very creepy to see those vague shapes taken over by one plant.

When the forest is so dense, it makes traversing off a path difficult, and its easy to get lost in the woods when you don't know where you came from or which direction is North because of the trees blocking the sun. The area is also home to lots of caves, which have been explored for hundreds of years. Both getting lost in the forest and in caves has lead to many disappearances and deaths, which only adds to the suspicion of the area.

In general, Appalachia is just like any other region, it has its folklore, stories most likely born out of caution and fear of the unknown, and it has its natural occurrences that make people fearful. There are deer, raccoons, opossums, birds, rabbits, and squirrels, which will make eerie and disturbing noises in the dark. There are black bears and mountain lions and bobcats, which may be following you and giving you that "I'm being watched" feeling that so many attribute to supernatural elements. I'm not saying its not supernatural elements, I'm just saying it could also just be an animal hunting.

Pretty much every person I've talked to who has lived in Appalachia, no matter how wary they are of the supernatural, have had some experience they couldn't explain. A ghost train, a voice calling their name from the bushes, a deer walking on two legs, a creature or wolf of some sort the size of a horse, an eerie light leading them home. Whatever the case may be, I hear these stories about all regions of the US, I don't think it is unique to Appalachia.

People not from the region sensationalize it, they mystify common occurrences and stereotype the people to make Appalachia out to be a scary, backwards, ignorant place full of supernatural creatures and cannibalistic feral people. In reality its just a mountainous region thats been continously neglected by the government and stereotyped by the rest of the country.

Again I did not grow up deeply in Appalachia so if anyone would like to add on or correct anything I said, have at it

I keep seeing horror books set in the Appalachian and I don't get it, I guess because I'm not American, what's going on there? Why are they so common for horror stories?

-

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

What's your opinion on the Beatles? I think Paul Mccartney is the best member (fight me)

Paul McCartney is great. However, I hate John Lennon with the firey, burning passion of a thousand suns, and it all has to do with UTIs, and a trip to North Florida I took in 2018.

It was the last day of our vacation. I went to sleep in a grand turn-of-the-century hotel with a slight, niggling pain in my bladder. When I woke up it was starting to become uncomfortable.

At the time my mom and I were sunburnt, tired and ready to go home. We lived in Central Florida, and it was a six hour drive to our house.

We set off down the branching rural roads. By that time, the pain was heightening. Not so much to think it wouldn't go away, but it was distracting.

***

We were in Tallahassee. My mom was as sunny as she had ever been. We stopped at a gas station, she said she'd be gone for a few minutes, and asked if I wanted a chocolate bar. She was gone for an hour.

When she came back, the pain was becoming unbearable.

There was a thunderstorm ahead. She asked me to put on the White Album. I did.

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEEEEEEPS

Now, North Florida is called South Alabama for a reason. There is nothing in North Florida except scrubland and trailer parks. My mom was so peppy and happy, I didn't tell her how bad I was feeling. Fuck man, she's never happy, let's not ruin it for her. But inside, I was dying.

HAVE YOU SEEN THE LITTLE PIGGIES CRAWLING IN THE DIRT

Imagine the worst period cramps you've ever had, multiplied by twelve. Hour. After hour. After hour.

After hour.

Mom smiled at me. I smiled back, sweat dripping down my forehead. My bladder burned.

"I love this song!" She said. "There's a Japanese restaurant! Let's stop and have lunch!"

She ordered a whole platter of sushi. I had a bowl of soup and wasn't able to finish a quarter of it. I looked out of the window in despair. There awaited for me 3 more hours of driving, and John Lennon.

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEEEEPS

John Lennon's smug nasal voice repeated in my head over and over. Now it was 2 and a half hours. It felt like a ball of thorns was embedded in my bladder. I was trying not to cry and losing.

Rain tapped against the window.

CRY BABY CRY

It felt like I was giving birth. I was huddled in a fetal position in my seat. Lennon sung joyfully as the flat wet marshland gave way to abandoned cigar factories, drug stores, shopping malls and skyscrapers--and then back to marshland. Who knew that trailers and churches could be combined into a singular redneck work of art?

Half an hour left.

Lennon's voice was indelibly imprinting onto my mind. WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEEEEEPS. My eyes were filled with tears and my stomach felt like a burning hot coal was turning over and over in it. My face was the color of milk. WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEEEEPS.

This is the last thing I'm going to hear, I thought. I'm going to die of pain in bumfuck Florida listening to John fucking Lennon.

My mother was humming to Piggies under her breath. "Look! We're home!"

***

I slept for 2 straight days. I popped so many painkillers a smackhead would have told me to cool it.

And now, whenever I hear John Lennon's voice, I feel phantom pains in my bladder.

One day I will send Mark David Chapman a bouquet of flowers.

[her-leading-man]

How do you handle being blue in the south? Is it as bad as the news says?

I have a bit of a different perspective on this as I am a life-long Republican.  I left the Republican party, however, when Donald Trump was nominated by Republicans.  I find the man abhorrent, embarrassing and incompetent.  In 2016, I could see from my social media accounts that there was a major shift happening.  The more he attacked, slandered and instilled fear of non-whites, the more white people loved him.  He was viewed as a rebel and someone who would root out corruption.  Even my fellow church members embraced him with open arms.  I lost so much respect for people that I thought had good minds and a sense of morality.  They embraced a reality TV show rapist; mostly because of their hate of Obama and Clinton.  There was only one other man in my church who shared my disdain for him.  I’ve lost many friends because I have spoken out against Trump and have been labeled as “woke” and a liberal.  Long before I divorced, I was becoming more sympathetic to social causes that the church and the Republican party is happy to ignore.  I am not a fan, at all, of the policies of the progressive arm of the Democrat party.  

The whole culture here is that if Rush Limbaugh and Fox News say it, it is fact and true, and if any other “news” source disagrees they are liberal-biased and “fake.”  Since leaving the church and divorcing, I have moved out of rural Alabama and into the inner city.  I am trying to build a network of friends who are not in the Trump-cult, but it is a challenge.  I have a near-zero tolerance of Trump/QAnon-cult members.  I don’t feel like I belong in this state.  I try to speak out against the cult, but to little effect.  There is no changing of anyone’s mind.  It didn’t matter who the Democrats nominated or chose as the running mate.  The vote is set.  Trump and all of the supporters of Trumpism MUST be soundly defeated on November 3rd.  There will be no surrender; it must be fatally wounded.  The margin of victory has to be embarrassingly high in order to kill it.  My Blue vote will not matter much, but I implore anyone who lives outside of the deep south to make your vote count. The fate of our nation and any ounce of respect we may still have with our allies depends on this vote.

HLM