#i have memories of rewinding the movie just for a second or third viewing of 'in the dark of the night'
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
giantkillerjack · 4 months ago
Text
Anastasia the Musical sucks so bad. They really said "We're gonna cut the best song from the movie - just axe the absolute banger that is 'In the Dark of the Night' - because we are being SERIOUS and GROWN-UP now. We are A Big Historical Realism Musical Now. This is FOR REAL, okay!? We don't have a SILLY villain like Rasputin! We have Gleb! [Please Just Clap.] We are HISTORICALLY GROUNDED. -- Anyway, here's a musical unironically glorifying the Russian monarchy~~ 💖😌💖😌💖😌💖"
#anastasia#anastasia musical#Anastasia movie#anastasia the musical#that said everything added in relation to Sophie and Vlad was 👌👌👌 chef's kiss#to add insult to injury they use the tune from in the dark of the night in a solemn dirge about the pain of having to leave one's country#I'm not actually against adding more historical realism into Anastasia but you have to give the monarchy that treatment as well#if you want to actually reckon with the oppressive regime of Russia in that time period you can't give a free pass to the monarchy#they're like completely uninterested in why the revolution happened and everything in relation to the royal family is#this glittering nostalgic shallow thing. which also describes the original but that at least had a campy magical historical fiction angle#that made suspending disbelief pretty easy. also how dare you add more ballads i mean for fuck's sake#I don't care if Anya and Dimitri saw each other TWO times as children instead of one! i don't care! i don't need a 6 minute song about it!#he's like đŸŽ” i saw you in a parade once. gosh the monarchy sure had some pretty parades and beautiful spectacle đŸŽ”#and she's like đŸŽ” omg i remember you that's crazy i sure did love being a part of the family of the Czar đŸŽ”#if you're going to add an introspective song maybe have Anastasia reckon with how her father was a great father and a violent ruler!#maybe address the inherent emotional conflict of grieving genuine trauma and also recognizing the fault of the ruling class.#i have memories of rewinding the movie just for a second or third viewing of 'in the dark of the night'#memories of jamming out to it in the car with my friends. then clicking skip 100+ times on my friend's ipod shuffle just to play it again#original#been a while since I saw the musical but I still get mad about this sometimes. half-assed ''Realism'' means less fun and more glaring flaws#please just clap#it's not like there's nothing there to develop it's just that they did it bad. I'm fine with adding a sad song about leaving home but ffs#also why not make Gleb a campy weirdo? he's SO. BORING. at least fuck up in an entertaining way.
5 notes · View notes
shyantheswiftfan · 4 years ago
Text
“evermore” song analysis part 3 (tracks 11-15)
Hello! I’ve decided to write some short analyses for the songs of “evermore”. The way I’m choosing to write these is by listing main themes of each song, giving a short paragraph about how I interpret the story and feeling of each song, then listing other Taylor songs that I think have similar themes. I might do a more in-depth lyrical analysis of some songs later on. Let me know what you think. 
- Read Part 1 Here -  - Read Part 2 Here -
So, let’s finish this! This is part 3 of 3. (This one is a little longer because I had a lot to say about some of the songs here.)
Tumblr media
Track 11: cowboy like me
Main themes: unexpected love, games, soulmates
My thoughts: This is possibly the most cinematic song from the album; I can envision an entire movie from this one. This story of two people not searching for love who find each other and fall. I don’t interpret the lyrics literally for this song. I think the two lovers (being described as swindling bandits) are players or heartbreakers. People who never end up in serious relationships because they don’t like commitment, but instead they go around “stealing” good hearts because their own hearts are broken. The “rich folks” are people who are still full of love and feeling. The two lovers meet and start to fall; their pasts come up, threatening their love, but that doesn’t matter because they’ve both done things they aren’t proud of. (”the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up” 
 “that was all before I locked it down”) Our two lovers fall in love and end up together, leaving their old ways behind them.
Sister songs: Style, King of My Heart, Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince 
Tumblr media
Track 12: long story short
Main themes: renewal, growth, moving forward
My thoughts: This is such an upbeat and happy song. Showing that Taylor has moved beyond her past and has found happiness right where she landed. The first verse and chorus are talking about where she was back around 2016, fallen from grace, knocked down by all the people trying to take her out. Her bad reputation in the public eye, falling for the wrong guy. Then we move to her reflecting on all the people who left her,(”I always felt I must look better in the rear view”) but moving on from that, dropping her guard, and finding someone to be with without everyone watching for a while. (”we live in peace, but if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready”) The bridge shows that she’s done with the feuds and trying to win the battles; she just wants to be happy with her lover. In the third verse, she gives a nice sentiment to her past self, telling her not to focus on the ones trying to hurt you because what’s important is right there. 
Sister songs: Call It What You Want, Daylight, the lakes
Tumblr media
Track 13: marjorie
Main themes: remembrance, loss, life lessons
My thoughts: As someone who has lost both of my grandmothers, this song means a lot to me. Taylor remembering the lessons her grandmother taught her. Taylor always played the part of the “good girl” early in her career, but learned to take a stand for herself and what she believes in; these lessons probably helped her with that. In the chorus, she’s reflecting on how it can feel like her grandmother is still with her. She’s still there in her dreams, the memory of her never goes away. She’s alive in Taylor’s heart. Then later in the song, Taylor sings about the times they spent together swimming and driving, and how she wishes she had asked more questions or saved more little things.(”I should've asked you how to be, asked you to write it down for me. Should've kept every grocery store receipt”)   When you lose someone, there’s always that regret when you realize everything from them will be gone now. This song is a beautiful tribute, and the subtlety of putting her grandmother’s vocals in the song is so touching. 
Sister songs: Ronan, Soon You’ll Get Better, epiphany
Tumblr media
Track 14: closure
Main themes: anger, betrayal, hurt
My thoughts: This song is a direct response to someone who wronged the narrator. Someone from their past (an ex-friend or lover) who clearly hurt them in a major and public way wrote them a letter asking to be friends again and move past what happened, but it seems that it’s only for the ex’s own selfish reasons.(”It wasn't right 
 Looks like you know that now” and ”I'm just a wrinkle in your new life, staying friends would iron it out so nice”) The narrator is telling this person that they hurt them too badly, and that they aren’t accepting their “closure” because they know it isn’t sincere. (”Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled” and “it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary”) I’ve been in this situation before, and sometimes you have to say “no” to someone to protect yourself from being hurt again, because you know they will.
Similar songs: You’re Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, my tears ricochet
Tumblr media
Track 15: evermore
Main themes: depression, healing, hope
My thoughts: This is a deeply honest song about the feeling of being in such a deep depressive state and it seeming like it will never end, but then coming out of it and finding hope again. It starts with the narrator thinking about how long they’ve been in this place and not knowing what caused it, but they’re trying to figure it all out. (”I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong”) The first chorus describes the hopeless feeling, just staring out at nothing thinking that this is how you’ll always feel until death. The second verse the narrator is feeling detached and losing hope completely. They are trying to remember when they were happy, yet they can’t remember that feeling anymore. (”I rewind thĐ” tape but all it does is pause on thĐ” very moment all was lost”) The bridge brings us to the reflection stage, thinking of everything the narrator is missing out on and just begging for some hope, and then finding it in “you”, whoever that may be for them. (”the things that will be lost. Oh, can we just get a pause to be certain, we'll be tall again?” and “I dreamed of you. It was real enough to get me through”) Then, in the last moments of the song, they find the hope again to know that they will get through this. “This pain wouldn't be for evermore.”
Sister songs: Tied Together With a Smile, Innocent, Safe & Sound
Thanks for reading! If you haven’t read the first two parts, I would super love if you took the time to check them out as well. They are linked at the beginning of this post. <3
8 notes · View notes
serrj215 · 6 years ago
Text
“So what would you want?”
Beast Boy laid across his bed his feet on the floor staring at the ceiling.  He laid there grumbling to himself cursing who ever came up with the idea of Secret Santa. Of course, he didn’t mind this last year when he drew Cyborg, he loved that game magazine subscription. He didn't mind the year before that when he drew Starfire and he got her that fondue kit. The rest of the tower suffered as she attempted to coat foods with chocolate or cheese that have no business being coated with chocolate or cheese. Starfire enjoyed the set until it disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Yet this year he drew the black marble. He looked at the scrap of paper with Raven's name on it.  "So, what would you want?" he asked the scrap in his fingers.  He let his arms flop to his sides in defeat.  It was an impossible task. How do you shop for someone that barley tolerates your existence? He thought about trading, but Starfire would be the only one that would be willing to bend the rules and this year that was not going to happen.  She might have let it slip that she drew Robin and while Beast Boy might have been dreading his Secret Santa, Starfire was elated. She had a thousand ideas for gifts for her boyfriend. Beast Boy was not sure what Robin was going to do with a chainsaw but since it came from Star, he was going love it.   Beast Boy thought about punting, a card with a Christmas tree on it and a gift card and he would be off the hook. Raven would get to pick out a new book or something and life would go on. Still all those other years and other people he liked giving them something special.  Also, despite the fact that she could barely stand him.  Beast Boy thought the world of her. He sat up and shook his head in frustration.  Stupid crush. Maybe this would be easier if she had not been spending the last few months wondering though his thoughts.   He closed his eyes and tried to just think of Raven, just think of who she was, what she could use, what would make her happy.  Witch just brought him to his feet his fists gripping his hair. "How could I know nothing about her?!" He paced his room. He thought about her all the time, granted a lot of those thoughts were a recurring fantasy of walking into his room to find her in his bed wearing nothing but the sheets, but that was not helping at the moment.  The whole sum of the person he lived with could not just be books, magic, blue capes, and sexy legs. He introduced his forehead to a wall.  Thinking if he could just knock one good idea out of his head.   "Books" clunk. "Cloaks" clunk. "Thigh master!" He hit his head a bit harder for that one. He pushed himself away from the wall, the ideas were getting worse and a concussion was not going to help.  He turned and flopped face first back into his bed.  "Maybe I can just hide here in the covers until new years."  his voice muffled by the blanket. Then something clicked.  It was like when you knock over domino, and the line of them just keeps going and going, a chain reaction flooded his mind, cross connecting memories and then the solution was obvious. Beast Boy threw himself out of his bed nearly falling to the floor to get to his laptop.   Raven was having a pleasant Christmas morning. She sat at the end of the couch sipping her tea.  Cyborg had gone overboard with breakfast and she was quite satisfied with the stack of waffles she consumed. The room was full of a quite excitement the 5 of them sitting in the living room. The yule log playing on the tv and filling the room with a cracking sound and Christmas melodies.  Robin was sitting at the tree passing out the gifts. That is when the dread started to creep in. After the second or third gift she realized that there was a very real possibility that Beast Boy was her secrete Santa.  Azar, she didn't want to ruin this pleasant mood of hers with some prank or gag gift. As Robin passed her a thin rectangular box wrapped in green paper with candy canes printed on it. She didn’t even need to read the tag. The wrapping was overlapped odd and had way too much tape. Either Beast Boy wrapped it, or he hired a 6-year-old that had too much sugar to do it.   Raven opened the box with the cautiousness of defusing a bomb.  As the gift came into view, her first thought was that it was one of her cloaks, it was almost the exact shade of dark blue.  Raven pulled it from the deceptively small box and unfolded it completely.  It was a it was a heavy throw style blanket. Unlike her cloak the blue was contrasted with a black swirling pattern thought the soft fabric.  The blanket was heavy for it size as she discovered when she stood and held the blanket up to examine the design.  When she lowered it letting the room come back into view Beast Boy was there a nervous look on his face.   "Merry Christmas Raven” He said quietly his voice squeaking slightly.   Raven did not know what to say.  She was expecting a gag, or something crass and inappropriate but this was a nice and she had to admit well-chosen gift.  She didn’t get a chance to say anything before the others started chiming in complementing the blanket.  The rest of the gifts were opened, and the warm festive atmosphere continued.  Raven stepped away from the commotion at the tree to claim a quiet section of the couch her new blanket folded over her arms.   "Your always cold, aren’t you?  I mean heat cold not the other kind."  He asked as he cautiously took the seat on the couch next to her.  His eyes examining the coffee table risking a glace her way. "Not always, a lot though.  Demon heritage, my blood wants a
 warmer climate. “She said quietly as she ran her hands over the blankets fabric letting her finger tips trace ones of the swirls.  "This was quite thoughtful, thank you."
"I am glad you like it." Beast Boy was hit with an avalanche of relief and it showed the tension in his shoulder immediately disappeared.  "You got no idea how happy that makes me." "Empath remember." "Oh right" he suppressed a laugh. They both sat there listening to the fire and a piano version of the 12 days of Christmas. The others had followed Robin outside to try out his new chainsaw leaving them alone.  Raven had taken her new blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She didn’t know what compelled her but a few moments later she draped the blanket over Beast Boy's shoulders as well.   It was almost three months later and a rare quiet night.   The living room was dark save for the light on the TV a movie playing.  Raven was quite content laying on the couch wrapped up in her Christmas gift.   "You sure you don't want anything to eat?"  Came from the darkness. "I am sure. " Raven replied quietly trying to keep track of the dialogue.  "Now get back here I am getting cold." Beast Boy came into the living room carrying a bowl of popcorn and can of root beer. "Cold?" he asked as he placed bowl on the table in front of her. "Isn't that why I got you that blanket?"   She tilted her head down half concealing her face in the folds. "It works better when you’re in it” Beast Boy could almost hear her blush.   A quick change into a rabbit and he hopped into the space between Raven and the back of the couch. A moment later Beast Boy was himself snug behind Raven.  His arms wrapped around her letting Raven use one as a pillow.  His lips found her ear and gave it the lightest of bites.  "Better?"   "Yes, much better" she sighed at the sensation.  "Don't do that, we will miss the end of the movie." Beast Boy just smiled and then pressed a kiss into her neck just below her jaw.  "DVD Rae we can always rewind” his free hand started to wonder underneath the blanket.   "What are you doing?" she said as her eyes closed, and her breathing deepened.   "Warming you up." Raven rolled onto her back and Beast Boys mouth quickly captured hers. Wrapped up together the movie was quickly forgotten.  That moment he was grateful for three things, the woman in his arms, next day shipping, and that he didn’t get her a thigh master.
So @bbraeweek19 is coming up and its April.  So here is a completely unrelated Christmas story.  Okay I started this in October but I got stuck, sometimes you just  need to let things come together on there own. So instead of letting this sit for 8 months, you can have it now. 
100 notes · View notes
inkyrealities · 5 years ago
Text
Time to Set Them Free
A parody of NerdOut’s Endgame song Whatever It Takes. Henry, Wally, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Shawn, Allison, Thomas, Grant, Lacie, Buddy, and Dot all got out in time, but Henry, Norman, Grant, Buddy, and Dot returned to help Joey set things right (the rest are doing fine). Warning: This is a bit long. ————— (As the piano introduction begins, we see shots from the first trailers for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, and Chapter 5. Cut to the Sillyvision Survivors [Henry, Wally, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Shawn, Allison, Thomas, Grant, Lacie, Buddy, and Dot] quitting in ones and twos. Cut to Joey watching a car pull away.) Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. Time to set them free. (Cut to Henry, Buddy, Dot, Norman, and Grant standing outside the studio, Henry holding Joey’s letter.) Grant: Of the Joey Drew crew, we’re among the twelve last, But only five came back to confront the past. The devil nabbed our colleagues and he turned them into monsters, Then he went and twisted their minds through the words of a false prophet! (We see the remaining staff being turned into various ink monsters. Cut to Aaron [the band conductor] donning a mask made from a Bendy cutout.) I’ve learned that history can’t be erased. All the memories of the lost ones, yeah we got them all on tape. So let’s put an end to the demon’s Gospel of Dismay, We’ll free their souls from this hellish prison of black, white, and gray! (Cut to Norman and Boris wading through a flooded hallway, the ink up to their knees.) Norman: Prayers, can I get an amen? Toons trapped deep in the devil’s den. Gotta get them out, we’ll find a way To let the Toons see the sun, we won’t die today. (Suddenly, the Projectionist appears. Norman and Boris run, the former firing the Tommy Gun at the monster. Eventually, he shoots out the lens, blinding it and letting Henry deliver the killing blow with his axe.) Monsters want our souls, they just won’t let us be. Even my projector is alive and trying to kill me. So flow the ink, we cannot be stopped, wow. Tell me who’s laughing now. We’ve got a shot, it’s time to turn the lights out. (Cut to Buddy, walking down a hallway with Bendy at his side, when they are ambushed by several Searchers.) Buddy: Walking alone through the halls There’s blood on the walls Can’t ignore the demon’s calls So many of our friends What did it do to them? (Tears well up in his eyes as he dispatches the Searchers.) Don’t know if Joey’s earned a second chance But hope to atone drove him to call us five back Give the devil his due You know that dreams do come true! (As the last of the Searchers disappears into ink, he picks up Bendy and continues his trek. There’s a brief shot of the Boris corpse from the Chapter 1, followed by scenes from the second Chapter 5 trailer.) Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. Time to set them free. (Cut to a third-person view of the chase scene from the end of Chapter 2.) Henry: Is escape possible? Well, we have to try. Yet even so, I still find myself wondering why Why the demon forced me to run and hide Devil darling’s become something I don’t recognize. (Cut to Henry, Buddy, and Bendy hiding inside a Little Miracle Station. Henry pulls Bendy into a reassuring hug as Buddy peers out, only to jump back as the Ink Demon pounces. Thankfully, the door remains shut.) But we will not let this horror show be televised From the depths, we will arise We won’t bend or break, so don’t bet on our demise We are alive—immortalized! (Cut to Dot standing on a catwalk, looking down at a vat of ink. We see images of Matt [Bendy’s voice actor], Rick [Boris’s voice actor], and Lauren [Joey’s secretary]. This is followed by Lauren laughing wickedly as she emerges from the Ink Machine as Malice.) Dot: Twelve survivors, all that’s left Matt, Rick, and the rest, I can’t forget Won’t leave ‘til we can bring them home Those little Toons we love and know (We see shots from the second Chapter 4 trailer. Cut back to Dot, closing her eyes and diving into the ink vat. A moment later, the true Alice surfaces, looking the way she does in game.) I will not bow before a fake Just one path left to take No, I’m not afraid to pay the price, My soul to give Alice life! (Cut to Joey sitting with the others in the safehouse, looking remorseful. Henry, Bendy, and Boris attempt to comfort him.) Joey: Listen, all I wanted was to give my characters life Everything that happened is my fault, so I gotta make things right Get them outta here, there’s a way, I know I just have to believe Only takes a pencil and a dream But I got to think of how we’re gonna bring the devil down! (Cut to Joey in his office, watching Henry, Buddy, Norman, Grant, and the Toons enter a secret elevator. The moment they’re gone, the Ink Demon breaks down the door. Joey turns to him, a sad smile on his face.) Like the prophet says, for love, sacrifice is needed The beast wants to claim my soul, he must be cheated. I’ll give up any chance I had at freedom to keep the Ink Demon bound. Rewind! (A pentagram drawn in ink on the floor lights up. Everything resets to how it was before the arrival of Henry and company, with one difference—the Toons are no longer present.) Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. (Know we must believe.) (Cut to the outside of the studio, where Henry, Norman, Grant, Buddy, and the Toons are watching the sun come up. Wally, Thomas, and Lacie’s vans pull up, with Sammy, Susie, Shawn, and Allison on board. Henry takes one last look at the studio as he and the others get in. As the song ends, we see the vans drive away, leaving Joey Drew Studios behind for good.) Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. (You know we must believe.) Time to set them free. ————— Notes: I imagine the characters as resembling the designs of Aileen-Rose, as her art tends to have sort of a Disney-ish feel to it. -Character matchups: +Grant as Captain America: Grant is voiced by Will ‘DAGames’ Ryan, who wrote Build Our Machine, possibly the most famous BATIM fan song in existence. In Whatever It Takes, Captain America is voiced by JT Music, who wrote another popular BATIM fan song called Can’t Be Erased. +Norman as Thor: In Whatever It Takes, Thor is voiced by FabvL, the only other singer to have a BATIM song (don’t know about Divide, who did the chorus, but he wouldn’t count anyway). Likewise, Norman is the only other in-game character who only appears as a recording (I’m not counting the Projectionist as an appearance). +Buddy as Hawkeye: Hawkeye did not appear in Infinity War, and Buddy only appeared in the tie-in novel. +Dot as Black Widow: She is the only female character to return, and like Buddy, she only appeared in the novel (prior to Endgame, neither Hawkeye nor Black Widow had a movie of their own). +Joey as Iron Man: This version of Joey is a good guy, trying to make up for his mistakes, not entirely unlike Tony. +Henry as the Hulk: The Hulk is the only option left. XD -If anyone wants to do a comic or video of this, be sure to credit me! :)
2 notes · View notes
disneyphantomlover · 5 years ago
Text
Time to Set Them Free
Submitted by @magicalmonsterhero 
A parody of NerdOut’s Endgame song Whatever It Takes.
Henry, Wally, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Shawn, Allison, Thomas, Grant, Lacie, Buddy, and Dot all got out in time, but Henry, Norman, Grant, Buddy, and Dot returned to help Joey set things right (the rest are doing fine).
Warning: This is a bit long. ————— (As the piano introduction begins, we see shots from the first trailers for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, and Chapter 5. Cut to the Sillyvision Survivors [Henry, Wally, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Shawn, Allison, Thomas, Grant, Lacie, Buddy, and Dot] quitting in ones and twos. Cut to Joey watching a car pull away.)
Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. Time to set them free.
(Cut to Henry, Buddy, Dot, Norman, and Grant standing outside the studio, Henry holding Joey’s letter.)
Grant: Of the Joey Drew crew, we’re among the twelve last, But only five came back to confront the past. The devil nabbed our colleagues and he turned them into monsters, Then he went and twisted their minds through the words of a false prophet!
(We see the remaining staff being turned into various ink monsters. Cut to Aaron [the band conductor] donning a mask made from a Bendy cutout.)
I’ve learned that history can’t be erased. All the memories of the lost ones, yeah we got them all on tape. So let’s put an end to the demon’s Gospel of Dismay, We’ll free their souls from this hellish prison of black, white, and gray!
(Cut to Norman and Boris wading through a flooded hallway, the ink up to their knees.)
Norman: Prayers, can I get an amen? Toons trapped deep in the devil’s den. Gotta get them out, we’ll find a way To let the Toons see the sun, we won’t die today.
(Suddenly, the Projectionist appears. Norman and Boris run, the former firing the Tommy Gun at the monster. Eventually, he shoots out the lens, blinding it and letting Henry deliver the killing blow with his axe.)
Monsters want our souls, they just won’t let us be. Even my projector is alive and trying to kill me. So flow the ink, we cannot be stopped, wow. Tell me who’s laughing now. We’ve got a shot, it’s time to turn the lights out.
(Cut to Buddy, walking down a hallway with Bendy at his side, when they are ambushed by several Searchers.)
Buddy: Walking alone through the halls There’s blood on the walls Can’t ignore the demon’s calls So many of our friends What did it do to them?
(Tears well up in his eyes as he dispatches the Searchers.)
Don’t know if Joey’s earned a second chance But hope to atone drove him to call us five back Give the devil his due You know that dreams do come true!
(As the last of the Searchers disappears into ink, he picks up Bendy and continues his trek. There’s a brief shot of the Boris corpse from the Chapter 1, followed by scenes from the second Chapter 5 trailer.)
Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. Time to set them free.
(Cut to a third-person view of the chase scene from the end of Chapter 2.)
Henry: Is escape possible? Well, we have to try. Yet even so, I still find myself wondering why Why the demon forced me to run and hide Devil darling’s become something I don’t recognize.
(Cut to Henry, Buddy, and Bendy hiding inside a Little Miracle Station. Henry pulls Bendy into a reassuring hug as Buddy peers out, only to jump back as the Ink Demon pounces. Thankfully, the door remains shut.)
But we will not let this horror show be televised From the depths, we will arise We won’t bend or break, so don’t bet on our demise We are alive—immortalized!
(Cut to Dot standing on a catwalk, looking down at a vat of ink. We see images of Matt [Bendy’s voice actor], Rick [Boris’s voice actor], and Lauren [Joey’s secretary]. This is followed by Lauren laughing wickedly as she emerges from the Ink Machine as Malice.)
Dot: Twelve survivors, all that’s left Matt, Rick, and the rest, I can’t forget Won’t leave ‘til we can bring them home Those little Toons we love and know
(We see shots from the second Chapter 4 trailer. Cut back to Dot, closing her eyes and diving into the ink vat. A moment later, the true Alice surfaces, looking the way she does in game.)
I will not bow before a fake Just one path left to take No, I’m not afraid to pay the price, My soul to give Alice life!
(Cut to Joey sitting with the others in the safehouse, looking remorseful. Henry, Bendy, and Boris attempt to comfort him.)
Joey: Listen, all I wanted was to give my characters life Everything that happened is my fault, so I gotta make things right Get them outta here, there’s a way, I know I just have to believe Only takes a pencil and a dream But I got to think of how we’re gonna bring the devil down!
(Cut to Joey in his office, watching Henry, Buddy, Norman, Grant, and the Toons enter a secret elevator. The moment they’re gone, the Ink Demon breaks down the door. Joey turns to him, a sad smile on his face.)
Like the prophet says, for love, sacrifice is needed The beast wants to claim my soul, he must be cheated. I’ll give up any chance I had at freedom to keep the Ink Demon bound. Rewind!
(A pentagram drawn in ink on the floor lights up. Everything resets to how it was before the arrival of Henry and company, with one difference—the Toons are no longer present.)
Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. (Know we must believe.)
(Cut to the outside of the studio, where Henry, Norman, Grant, Buddy, and the Toons are watching the sun come up. Wally, Thomas, and Lacie’s vans pull up, with Sammy, Susie, Shawn, and Allison on board. Henry takes one last look at the studio as he and the others get in. As the song ends, we see the vans drive away, leaving Joey Drew Studios behind for good.)
Chorus: With axe in hand, we make our stand. Our goal is plain to see. Make real your dreams, just start up the machine. You know we must believe. (You know we must believe.) Time to set them free. ————— Notes: I imagine the characters as resembling the designs of Aileen-Rose, as her art tends to have sort of a Disney-ish feel to it. -Character matchups: +Grant as Captain America: Grant is voiced by Will ‘DAGames’ Ryan, who wrote Build Our Machine, possibly the most famous BATIM fan song in existence. In Whatever It Takes, Captain America is voiced by JT Music, who wrote another popular BATIM fan song called Can’t Be Erased. +Norman as Thor: In Whatever It Takes, Thor is voiced by FabvL, the only other singer to have a BATIM song (don’t know about Divide, who did the chorus, but he wouldn’t count anyway). Likewise, Norman is the only other in-game character who only appears as a recording (I’m not counting the Projectionist as an appearance). +Buddy as Hawkeye: Hawkeye did not appear in Infinity War, and Buddy only appeared in the tie-in novel. +Dot as Black Widow: She is the only female character to return, and like Buddy, she only appeared in the novel (prior to Endgame, neither Hawkeye nor Black Widow had a movie of their own). +Joey as Iron Man: This version of Joey is a good guy, trying to make up for his mistakes, not entirely unlike Tony. +Henry as the Hulk: The Hulk is the only option left. XD -If anyone wants to do a comic or video of this, be sure to credit me! :)
1 note · View note
imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years ago
Text
The Hitman Bodyguard: Chapter 4
Read on Ao3
Bucky had obviously seen Stark Tower before; it was an iconic part of the New York City skyline, as easily recognizable as the Empire State Building. But seeing it while wandering around in its shadow was entirely different from parking in Tony’s private underground garage and taking the interminable elevator ride it took to get to the top, then seeing the city spread out before him like it was his personal back yard.
He allowed himself fifteen seconds to stare before he turned away, trying to seem blasĂ© about it all.  “So where do all the others live?” Bucky asked casually, strolling around the common room.
“Others? You mean like Steve and the rest?”
“Yeah.” Specifically Steve, Bucky thought. “Do they stay here?”
“Sometimes,” Tony said with a distracted, one shoulder shrug. “Bruce was here for a while and Thor stays here when he’s
on the planet.  Steve has his own place in DC and God only knows about Clint and Natasha.”
Bucky’s shoulders eased when Tony said DC.  “Why are you moving out of the tower? It’s so
you,” he said, strolling back to poke Tony in the side.  “Stylish. Flashy. Practically screaming, ‘hey, I’m over here, try to kill me.’”
Tony stuck his tongue out.  “Too many possible collateral damage and civilian casualties.”
“Ah.”  Couldn’t really argue with that.  “When do they break ground for the new place?”
“Tomorrow.”  Tony had played a huge part in designing the new Avengers headquarters, so he planned to be in New York for the duration of the construction.  For his part, Bucky wasn’t super thrilled about being back in the city – too many memories and almost-memories – but he wasn’t prepared to break his contract and leave Tony because of it, especially if Steve stayed down in DC.  The tower was pretty fucking cool though. Being this high above the streets was a rush.
“Hey, Tony,” he said, turning away from the view.  “What’s for-”
Tony held up a finger, phone in his ear.  “Yeah, two large pepperoni for delivery, please.” He put his hand over the speaker and said, “We’re having pizza and we’re going to watch Zombieland.”
“Again?” Bucky made a face.
“No complaining,” Tony said.  “We made a deal. Plus, we are going to rewatch it until you realize the gift that Woody Harrelson is.”
The next evening, Bucky was flipping through the apparently unending channels on the TV when he realized he’d seen the same video playing on three different news stations.  So he paused, reading the headlines, and then rewound the footage.
“Tony,” he called out, stomach sinking.
“What’s up?” Tony answered from the kitchen.
\“You said Ste- Captain America works with SHIELD in DC, right?” Bucky said almost absently as he kept playing and rewinding the footage of the attack in DC, watching as a black SUV, apparently the SHIELD Director’s SUV, flipped over in a cloud of smoke and flames.
“Yeah, why?”   He heard Tony’s footsteps as he came into the living room, unable to drag his eyes away from the television.
He paused the TV on the one blurry shot of the perpetrator that the camera managed to catch.  It was a man, all in black, with goggles and a mask on. “You’ve gotta go to DC,” Bucky said urgently. “Right now. He is in danger.”
Tony went still, eyes going between the TV and Bucky, clearly trying to make the connection. “What? Why?”
Bucky pressed play and let Tony watch the clip he’d been watching. “Holy shit,” Tony said, eyes widening. “Nick. Did they say anything about-”
“Trust me,” he said. “Go. Right now, before it gets worse.”
“Yeah, ok. I’m going.”  Tony headed for the stairs down to his lab. “Are you coming?” He called out over his shoulder.  “You could take one of the cars-”
Bucky’s mouth twisted. “I can’t,” he said, turning and pacing away from the television.  As much as he wanted, needed, to be there to watch Tony’s back, this was Hydra. And Steve.  “Not this time. I
” Bucky trailed off to a stop. What could he say?  How could he explain?  Hey, Tony, I'm kinda but not really the person you think I am.
“It’s ok,” Tony was already saying soothingly.  He came back to squeeze Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even have asked.  This isn’t your job. I’m going to go suit up and call Steve.”
Bucky nodded jerkily. “Be careful.” Despite Tony’s words, he still felt lower than dirt as he watched the Iron Man suit blazing south.  He rewatched the clip again, eyes lingering on the bright blond hair on the man in black, but in his mind he was in a cold, harshly-lit bunker, watching behind iron bars as this man and the other Winter Soldiers killed everyone they could reach.
(More after the break!)
For the next two days, Bucky was sick with worry, checking in with JARVIS every hour on the hour.  After the first six requests about Tony, JARVIS set up a running feed of Tony’s vitals that Bucky could see on any screen in the tower, though he rarely went much farther than his bedroom and the kitchen.  He wavered between obsessively watching the news and trying to distract himself with stupid movies, but not much worked.  Memories were coming fast and hard, making his hands shake and giving fresh terrors to his dreams.  At one point, Bucky woke up panicking from a nightmare that the attack in DC was a decoy and that Bucky was the true target, and for the next three hours he obsessively roamed the tower, convinced that Hydra was coming.  When he tried to eat, the sudden mental image of Steve in the chair, or Tony, made him throw up until there was only bile left, burning the back of his throat.
He would have liked to say that he almost changed his mind about going to DC, but the truth was, fear of both seeing Steve and memories of Hydra made it hard to even stay in New York.  Suddenly the city felt too small, and in the middle of the night LA didn’t seem far enough away; hell, suddenly even putting an ocean between himself and DC didn’t seem good enough.  But he stayed, hating himself a little more with every passing hour for being such a coward.
Then, on the third day, Tony called.
“Bucky,” was all Tony had to say, and Bucky’s stomach hit the floor.  He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool wall, trying not to throw up again. “I hate to ask but
we need your help.”  When Bucky didn’t respond immediately, Tony hurried on.  “There are more of these freakish Hydra super soldiers than we thought there would be and
” Bucky’s hand was tight on the phone as he heard Tony’s long exhale. “I know this isn’t want you’re getting paid to do-”
“It’s not about the money,” Bucky said harshly.  He took a ragged breath and ran his hand over his mouth. Over the past two days, the thought had occurred to him that there was a third choice, besides running from his past or facing Steve and having all of his secrets bared to the ugly light of day. Unfortunately, it was one that he was almost as afraid of as the others.  He exhaled long and low, clenching his flesh hand into a fist to make it stop shaking.  “Okay. I’ll help.” His voice was rough, so he cleared his throat.  “Just
tell me where to meet you.”
When he got off the phone, he walked reluctantly to the one bag he always carried with him but never unpacked; buried at the bottom of a closet, out of sight but rarely far from his mind.   He pulled it out and unzipped it, dread making his limbs heavy.
At the bottom of the bag, under layers of stiff, reinforced tactical pants and bullet-proof vests, was a mask and ballistic goggles.
                                                       ***
Hours later, he found Tony gathered with others at the edge of the Potomac, looking over the water at SHIELD headquarters.  He approached silently, studying them; Tony was in a suit, helmet retracted, and Steve was easily recognizable at his side.  Beside Steve, looking tiny next to him in his tactical suit, was a redhead whose profile stirred uneasy memories.  The final man, dark-skinned with short hair and a strange bulky backpack, he didn’t know at all.
He came up next to Tony; JARVIS must have warned him of his approach because he didn’t look surprised.  “You made it,” Tony said, sounding relieved. Bucky gave a curt nod as Tony’s eyes traveled over him, and Bucky knew what he saw: the dark ballistic goggles and mask obscured his features, and he was in black from head to toe, metal arm gleaming.  Wearing this again, the mask and the gear, felt right, felt like coming home, and made Bucky want to rip every piece of it off and shower until his skin bled.
“Who is this?” Steve asked warily as everyone turned to look at him.  Bucky refused to look at him, afraid he’d lose his fragile self-control.  He kept his eyes on Tony, trying to remind himself why he was here when he’d rather be anywhere else.
“This is-” Bucky made a sharp warning gesture. “A free agent,” Tony finished.  “He’s going to help us out with this Hydra problem, and then he’ll be going on his way.”
“I gotta say, this guy looks a lot like the guys we’re fighting,” the black guy said, eyeing Bucky’s mask and goggles.  Bucky gave him points for perception. “Who is he again?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said.  “I’m vouching for him.”
Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he shook his head and visibly decided not to.  “If you say so, Tony.  What do we call him?”
“Rambo will be fine,” Tony said when Bucky didn’t volunteer anything.  He was too busy studying the red-head, who was studying him in turn, something sharp and suspicious in her brown eyes.
“Alright, everyone,” Steve said.  “Sam, you’re with me. Tony, guess you’ve got Rambo here.  Natasha-”
“On it,” she said, giving Steve a salute and finally looking away from Bucky.  “See you on the flip side, boys,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.
The new guy, Sam, apparently, pushed a button on his shoulder and mechanical wings unfolded from his backpack, whirring as an engine in the center came to life.  He took Steve’s hand and then they were skimming across the river to the Triskelion, coming in low to avoid the building’s anti-aircraft defenses.
“They’re going to try to keep the helicarriers from launching,” Tony explained, shading his face from the sun as he watched them go.  “But if they fail, that’s where we come in.”
Bucky nodded curtly, wishing that he could just punch something already.  His skin was crawling in this gear; when he’d escaped from Hydra, he swore to himself that he’d never wear it again.  He only kept it to remind himself how far he’d come, but here he was, feeling like he was walking to his own execution.  He itched to pace but he knew if he started walking he may very well start walking back to LA, so he forced himself to stay still.
“Are you ok?”
He turned his head to see Tony watching him with concern. He wanted to say I’m fine, but he didn’t think he could force himself to tell a lie that big. There was a knot in his chest, fear and dread and panic, so big that he couldn’t speak around it, so he just shrugged.  Even though they were just standing here, he felt like everything was balanced on a knife’s edge and the tension made him want to scream.
“Seriously, Bucky, are you ok?” Tony had his hands on Bucky’s shoulders now, the armor making them heavy.
“I just want to finish this,” Bucky managed to say.  “Let's get it over with.”
86 notes · View notes
paulorwell-blog · 6 years ago
Text
‘Women, you have to treat ‘em like shit’: An exclusive excerpt from SAD! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President
Tumblr media
Sad! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President is out now. Below is an exclusive excerpt. To order a copy of the book, click here.
WOMEN: YOU HAVE TO TREAT ‘EM LIKE SHIT. ~ Donald Trump, New York magazine (November 9, 1992)
DONALD TRUMP, THE GRABBER-IN-CHIEF of this great nation, has shamed, slandered, and abused women, yet many voters just look away. Why? Does anyone defend Biff Tannen when he mocks Lorraine, sexually assaults her, or shoves her to the floor? No. Why should “Biff” Trump get a pass?
How are people who ignore the bad behavior of “Biff” Trump able to do the right thing in other situations? When presented evidence of a priest’s misconduct, they don’t say “Yes, he abused children but he gives a great homily, so let’s keep him on.” Apparently anything “Biff” Trump does is “just his personal business” or “water under the bridge.” And besides, “he’s good for the economy.”
Are our pocketbooks really more important than our morality? What does that say about us as a nation? Men, what does it say about us as men if we are able to silently overlook or excuse abusive behavior toward women?
It’s impossible to overlook Biff Tannen’s behavior. Throughout the Back to the Future trilogy, Biff doesn’t ask, he simply takes what he wants, from both men and women. His perverse masculinity confuses force with strength; he views women not as individuals, but as things to be taken, things that exist to serve his needs. It helps that both Biffs are over 6 feet tall. If either was a foot shorter, there’s no way they would get away with acting this way. At least not in public.
In BTTF1, young Biff Tannen personifies the worst fears of American parents who send their daughters off to school each morning. Oversized and oversexed, Biff is feared by classmates and cheered on by his sidekicks, all three of whom are yes-men, fixers, and hooligans.
Biff considers himself a “dreamboat,” but to a girl in his crosshairs, he’s a nightmare. In the scene set in the 1955 school cafeteria, Lorraine sits at a table with a friend and Biff pulls his chair directly behind hers, preventing her escape. Though he’s seated, he’s terrifying in action; he’s easily twice her size. He practically engulfs her; his arms snake around her as he pulls at her clothes. Back in the real world, female airline passengers have complained that “Biff” Trump’s hands were all over them, too.
But 17-year-old Lorraine sticks up for herself and tells Biff to leave her alone, even as his sidekicks encourage him from the next table. The word “no” isn’t in Biff’s vocabulary, though, and he declares with a sneer, “You want it, you know you want it, and you know you want me to give it to you.”
Later in the movie at the dance, things get even worse when Lorraine disagrees and slaps Biff. He grabs her arm and pins her in place with a look that’s as fierce as his grip—and releases her only when Marty McFly rushes over and yanks him off.
It’s an ugly scene, made even uglier by the fact that it takes place in full view of others. If you asked the older, successful version of Biff in BTTF2 to look back and recall his interaction with Lorraine the night he sexually assaulted her, perhaps you can imagine the casino owner describing it like this:
You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything 
 grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.
These, of course, are Donald “Biff” Trump’s words on the 2005 “Access Hollywood” tape.
Thirty years later as either middle-manager Biff or car-detailer Biff, does he remember this misbehavior from his school days? If thirty years later the FBI went back and interviewed the other kids in that school cafeteria or at that dance, would they remember those events the way Lorraine does? For George, his memory of the parking lot incident would be as much about punching Biff as it was about Biff’s actions in the car.
But in the movie, the cameras were there and so were we. We saw it. We know what happened, just as Lorraine knows and will never forget, and we can rewind the movie and watch it again. If we don’t, our memory of it will fade because we were only spectators. Lorraine was the object of the abuse and her memory won’t fade—even if others doubt her.
Fast forward from 1955 to the alternate 1985 timeline in BTTF2, when Biff is a wealthy and powerful casino owner. According to Team Biff, he’s now a giant among men:
His power and influence made him the model of world leaders and heads of state. Marvel at Biff’s ongoing relationships with the rich and famous. We’ve all heard the legend. But who is the man?
That’s what we must ask ourselves today. Too bad it wasn’t Biff Tannen who had the following conversation on a radio show, because it would be far easier to excuse these words coming from the mouth of a fictional villain than from the future president of the United States.
Howard Stern: Will Dakota Fanning grow up hot?
Donald Trump: No. No.
Stern: She will not?
Trump: She will always be cute.
Stern: But she’ll never be hot.
Trump: She’ll never be hot.
Dakota Fanning was 11 years old at the time.
Trump sexualizing young girls is not a one-time incident—in a 1992 TV special, he speaks with a 14-year-old girl as she’s riding up an escalator, and he says, “I am going to be dating her in ten years. Can you believe it?”
“Biff” Trump’s sexual thoughts roll around like a loose cannon on deck. A very loose cannon. When his own daughter Tiffany was an infant—just a year old—he commented and gestured on camera about what her breasts might one day look like.
Many adults feel the need to give back to their communities through their PTA, Little League, or Girl Scouts. Not “Biff” Trump; the owner of the Miss Universe beauty pageant was too busy prowling around the dressing rooms of teenage contestants.
“You know, they’re standing there with no clothes,” said Trump, according to Rolling Stone. “And you see these incredible-looking women. And so I sort of get away with things like that.” These young women later recalled feeling like “cattle” being graded by the rancher who owned them.
Now let’s compare the two men’s current marriages. Both Biff and “Biff” show a repeated and willful lack of concern about their wives, as if they were chattel, or even just cattle.
Lorraine Tannen is Biff’s abused, unloved third wife. Their relationship is usurious. If we look back at the video clip of the day they got married, we hear Biff saying “Number three’s a charm” as he pushes his tongue into Lorraine’s mouth, ignoring her discomfort and disgust. This, on their wedding day.
“Biff” Trump’s third wife, Melania, has recently displayed frostiness toward him in public, including incidents when she wouldn’t hold his hand. Numerous times she’s decided not to appear in public with her husband, or even travel in the same vehicle with him. It must be difficult for her today to hear explicit details of his times with Stormy Daniels and Karen McDougal—from a time when Barron was just an infant.
In BTTF3, Biff Tannen lounges in a jacuzzi with two women while his wife is in the building; Lorraine could have walked in on them just as easily as her son Marty does. “Biff” Trump gave Playboy Playmate Karen McDougal a tour of his New York apartment shortly after Melania had given birth to their son, Barron. Assured that Melania wasn’t in the building, Ms. McDougal asked about the staff. “Biff” told her “they won’t say anything”—as if they knew the drill, they knew the score.
Multiple wives and women, accusations of multiple offenses and denials from Trump, but sexual perpetrators almost always deny their guilt.
“You could have just walked away.”
These are Seamus McFly’s words of wisdom to his great-grandson Marty in BTTF3 after Biff goads Marty. This was meant to teach Marty that masculinity doesn’t require responding to violence with violence, to reassure him that no one would think less of him if he’d simply walked away.
But what about people who sometimes can’t walk away? Like your daughter, your mother or sister.
“Biff” Trump is in a position of dominance when he meets his prey; he’s the boss, a rich man, TV star, beauty pageant owner, or even president. Walking away simply isn’t a choice for many women. And what about the countless others who did walk away, those who did have a choice? How many are out there and have yet to speak up?
Ask “Biff” about his attitude toward women and he’ll tell you he was one of the first to promote women to high positions in a male-dominated field. This is somewhat true—but remember, when he promoted them, he was in charge, he was in control.
But when he’s confronted with a woman who’s his equal, not an underling, Trump displays ape-like dominance and an imagined superiority. When meeting with Angela Merkel, the Chancellor of Germany and one of the most powerful women in
the world, “Biff” Trump refused to shake her hand. On another occasion, he flung candy on a table in front of her, saying “don’t say I never give you anything.” Trump referred to the Prime Minister of the U.K. by her first name, Theresa, instead of her title; he didn’t bow to Queen Elizabeth and later walked in front of her because he couldn’t be bothered to learn protocol.
And his stalky, leering performance during the second presidential debate33 with Hillary Clinton raised the hackles of many women watching.
Whether interacting with women in power or with more vulnerable women, “Biff” Trump reveals his utter lack of respect. He objectifies women; they’re merely things for him to use. More than a dozen accusations of sexual assault have been lodged against him.
Biff Tannen and “Biff” Trump are the same man. No introspection, no regret about their infidelities, no compassion, no sympathy for their partners. Serve the self, do it right now, and move on.
There is no chance the original Biff will ever address these issues, but in the real world, “Biff” Trump should. Brett Kavanaugh’s anger before the Senate Judiciary Committee in September 2018 and Trump’s demeaning responses to the accusations leveled at him over the years show how hard it is to effect societal change on this topic. Nearly 20 percent of American women have experienced rape or attempted rape during their lifetimes, often committed by someone they know, but false accusations are very rare. A man has no clue how the possibility of sexual assault can shape a woman’s behavior at a social gathering or when considering the safety of transportation options or public restrooms—or even walking down the street.
For the good of all American people, Trump (and Kavanaugh) must exhume and prioritize these issues, not deny and bury them.
Women exist only to serve men’s primal needs, after all. Biff and “Biff” both are devoid of morals and unbound by cultural norms. When it comes to interacting with women, they either don’t know or don’t give a damn what kind of behavior is acceptable—or even legal.
To order a copy of Sad! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President, click here.
0 notes
wendyimmiller · 4 years ago
Text
A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur
Guest Rant by Debra Moffitt In this burdened, budding springtime, we are all looking for something to do. I suggest falling in love — rollicking, floating on a marshmallow cloud, I’m-not-even-hungry love.
To be honest, my paramour and I have been carrying on since 2016 and this year we are as star-crossed as any two have ever been. Confession: I’m married. But the real problem is my heart’s desire lives behind the gates of an Eden-like public garden called Winterthur. The place draws a crowd, so the pandemic forced it shut for all of April and May. No visitors allowed.
Among the lush woodlands and rolling meadows of Delaware’s Winterthur, something is always in bloom. In May, it was my Paeonia and I was sick with longing. I imagined barreling through the single orange cone ahead of the guard shack. Or maybe I’d drop in, like a botanical paratrooper, surgically landing between the upper and lower jardins des pivoines. Could I pilot a drone over the walls of this former du Pont estate for just a glimpse?
Reader, my love is a peony.
Oh, I wish at least I knew its name! But I’ve come to find that identifying a singular peony is like trying to track down Cinderella after she fled the ball single-shoed. The registry maintained by the American Peony Society lists a cast of thousands – from “A La Mode” to “Zori” and many doozies in between: Dawn Glow Nosegay Elsa Sass Laddie Bartzella Souvenir de Maxime Cornu Thura Hires Shishigashira Many Happy Returns Mrs. Livingston Farrand Myrtle Gentry Mr. Ed
I could love any one of these monikers were it attached to the achingly pale pink peony of my heart’s desire. I’ve scanned dozens of photos and, to my eye, it’s close to a Shirley Temple, a bit like Angel’s Cheeks, in the neighborhood of Sarah Bernhardt, but with more of a snowball confection at its center. Ensconced among hundreds of other peonies at Winterthur, this flower shimmered and vibrated before me like Daisy to Gatsby on a steamy Louisville afternoon. As Fitzgerald wrote, “She blossomed for him like a flower.” Sigh. Same.
In early May, with no indication when Winterthur would re-open, I suppose I could have tilted my petal-wilting passion toward my husband. But wow, no thank you. We’ve been penned up together since March and his name is merely Dave.
Time was running out for me and my mystery flower. Peonies bloom gloriously, glamorously and oh-so briefly. Within days, these ruffled beauties, these hundred-petal bombs, wilt and flop over like debutantes after a boozy party. They swiftly mature into leathery seed pods and the year-long wait begins again.
Before you suggest I grow my own peony, do you know that peonies must be planted in the fall and are often without blooms for the first two or three years? Hence the peony grower’s adage “We sleep the first year, we creep the second and we leap the third.”
I can’t wait three years and, anyway, the flower I long for is no garden center special from Lowe’s. The Winterthur peonies — many planted in the 1950s and 1960s — carry a pedigree. This echelon of peonies announce their weddings in the New York Times. They bloom on the grounds of this Delaware chateau because they were chosen by Henry Francis du Pont, born in 1888 and heir to the industrialist family.
Mr. du Pont eventually turned over Winterthur’s immense, naturalistic garden — and his 175-room home — as a public space and museum. Connoisseurs of gardens flock there to ride open-air trams that survey its vistas. If you need more convincing, I crossed paths with Diane Keaton there last April and the U.S. Postal Service just emblazoned Winterthur on a garden series of Forever stamps. I have the stamps — would that I could send a letter to my cherished peony! I would scent it with perfume and close with a line from a Mary Oliver poem: “This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart.”
Like a lightning-bolt love affair, the visible life cycle of a peony is astonishingly brief. Winterthur cuts back its peonies so that when I visited on March 13, the gardens were mostly just a flat expanse of soil with a few tiny shoots breaking through at ground level. A close inspection of the spot where my treasured peony blooms revealed only a hollow, woody reed barely poking up through the mulch.
A lot happens in a few weeks. With velocity, peonies go straight vertical in the early spring. Then, atop the stem, two leaves extend themselves as open-armed as a ballerina in second position. Those graceful arms, that sturdy stem, will soon hold aloft an improbably large peony bud, like Atlas shouldering the heavens. The buds emerge closed tight and often the color of cherry cola, sticky with nectar, pure ambrosia for ants. Peony buds then metamorphize into a firm packet of petals known as the “marshmallow” stage. It’s all I can do not to pop one into my mouth.
That is slightly less crazy than it sounds because peonies are used in salads and jams. But please don’t eat the peonies! That would rob you of what happens next. Finally released from its leafy cocoon, the marshmallow bud yawns open and the peony spirals wide into full flower. Nothing to see here but the annual miracle. Swoon. Two million #peonies photos on Instagram prove I’m not alone.
By mid-May I knew I was running out of options. My peony would soon bloom without me. Delaware’s quarantine rules were relaxing at the beach and the boardwalk, but no word on the gardens. I tried giving other peonies a whirl and even sauntered by a neighbor’s yard to visit their quite nice Festiva Maxima. I dropped in on a tumbledown estate called Gibraltar where some charming peonies ring an Italianate garden. But it turns out I don’t have the kind of heart that can accommodate a side peony. Like real love, my floral ardor is painfully specific.
Fortunately, the heartsick writer always has one trick up her sleeve. She can find out a lot, even during a pandemic, under the premise of “research.” I contacted Winterthur, whose staff confirmed the peonies were all well and had been champs even through a cold snap. Cards on the table, I told the director of horticulture I wanted to know everything about the peonies at Winterthur.
This returned to me the wincing memory of how I once wanted to know everything about a cad (not Dave) who I loved during freshman year. I had even wondered: What kind of toothpaste does this magnificent creature use? Without getting into the details, let’s just say my peony has already been far more loyal and worthy of my sincere interest than the unmagnificent gent from Kappa Sigma.
The staff at Winterthur answered my inquiry by graciously opening their digital archives and sending me the kind of source matter that makes the heart pound. Though I wasn’t able to divine my peony’s name, I did learn a lot more about how the Winterthur peony gardens came to be.
The peony garden almost wasn’t: Du Pont initially planned to grow irises, but the archives hint at some sort of flapdoodle with the Iris Society, which visited in 1937. The visitors shared iced tea and cookies, the records show, but perhaps not du Pont’s inclination to plant his garden strictly “from the point of view of color.”
Du Pont collaborated with two talented women on the gardens: Landscape architect Marian Coffin and Silvia Saunders, daughter of the most well known peony hybridizer in the world, Arthur Percy Saunders Professor Saunders crossed variety after variety and du Pont is credited with having the foresight to acquire many of his cultivars, which he grew in upstate New York.
Du Pont wrote to Saunders, a year before the professor died: “I expect to have a yearly thrill during the remainder of my life from the Saunders garden.”
That time the Winterthur peonies traveled to London: Du Pont encouraged Silvia Saunders to travel to the 1962 Chelsea Flower Show with 300 Winterthur peonies. There, before a silver coromandel screen, and assisted by two famous British horticulturalists, she displayed the well-traveled beauties. The Winterthur blooms garnered five awards including the Lindley Silver Medal. Du Pont, who was among the judges that year, left Silvia Saunders a note on the peony table that read, “Good work, lass!”
It must have been a glorious, celebratory moment, but I like to rewind the tape to six days earlier, when the buds had to be collected in Delaware for the trans-Atlantic trip ahead. I’ve heard tell that they picked the peonies in the rain holding umbrellas over the buds to protect them. Is this not like every romantic movie ever made? And I wonder if my pink peony was in that winning bunch. I feel certain, yes.
How good it feels to be part of an audience that heaps public praise and recognition on those we love and who most surely deserve it. But this year, the Chelsea Flower Show “went digital” just like my son’s college graduation. The staff at Winterthur did all they could for me. They shared photos and videos of the blooming garden on social media That, plus all the archival information, soothed me, but in the partial way of a Zoom call for a momentous occasion.
We had such a call with my graduating son and it was something. But I wanted all 360 degrees, full immersion for my senses. At this moment in our sad year, one feels compelled to say these little griefs — over missed peonies and commencement exercises — are not such a big deal. But they’re not nothing.
Perhaps my joy will double when my son’s postponed graduation celebration finally happens. And I’m sure my heart will swell next May, when the peonies, those “silent, numb nudgers,” emerge from the cold soil to give us all the yearly thrill. Maybe I’ll bring Dave.
Until then, something is always abloom at Winterthur, whose gardens, I’m thrilled to say, have reopened. Summer is just getting started. We can still have purple rhododendron, blue hydrangea and orange day lillies — flowers for when the day is new. I’ll be looking at those blooms, but peony, I’ll be seeing you.
Debra Moffitt is a Delaware writer whose essays have been published in Slate, the Washington Post, and a middle-grade book series by St. Martin’s Press. Photos of peonies at Winterthur taken by the author in May of 2019. 
A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur originally appeared on GardenRant on June 9, 2020.
The post A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur appeared first on GardenRant.
from Gardening https://www.gardenrant.com/2020/06/peonies-winterthur.html via http://www.rssmix.com/
0 notes
turfandlawncare · 4 years ago
Text
A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur
Guest Rant by Debra Moffitt In this burdened, budding springtime, we are all looking for something to do. I suggest falling in love — rollicking, floating on a marshmallow cloud, I’m-not-even-hungry love.
To be honest, my paramour and I have been carrying on since 2016 and this year we are as star-crossed as any two have ever been. Confession: I’m married. But the real problem is my heart’s desire lives behind the gates of an Eden-like public garden called Winterthur. The place draws a crowd, so the pandemic forced it shut for all of April and May. No visitors allowed.
Among the lush woodlands and rolling meadows of Delaware’s Winterthur, something is always in bloom. In May, it was my Paeonia and I was sick with longing. I imagined barreling through the single orange cone ahead of the guard shack. Or maybe I’d drop in, like a botanical paratrooper, surgically landing between the upper and lower jardins des pivoines. Could I pilot a drone over the walls of this former du Pont estate for just a glimpse?
Reader, my love is a peony.
Oh, I wish at least I knew its name! But I’ve come to find that identifying a singular peony is like trying to track down Cinderella after she fled the ball single-shoed. The registry maintained by the American Peony Society lists a cast of thousands – from “A La Mode” to “Zori” and many doozies in between: Dawn Glow Nosegay Elsa Sass Laddie Bartzella Souvenir de Maxime Cornu Thura Hires Shishigashira Many Happy Returns Mrs. Livingston Farrand Myrtle Gentry Mr. Ed
I could love any one of these monikers were it attached to the achingly pale pink peony of my heart’s desire. I’ve scanned dozens of photos and, to my eye, it’s close to a Shirley Temple, a bit like Angel’s Cheeks, in the neighborhood of Sarah Bernhardt, but with more of a snowball confection at its center. Ensconced among hundreds of other peonies at Winterthur, this flower shimmered and vibrated before me like Daisy to Gatsby on a steamy Louisville afternoon. As Fitzgerald wrote, “She blossomed for him like a flower.” Sigh. Same.
In early May, with no indication when Winterthur would re-open, I suppose I could have tilted my petal-wilting passion toward my husband. But wow, no thank you. We’ve been penned up together since March and his name is merely Dave.
Time was running out for me and my mystery flower. Peonies bloom gloriously, glamorously and oh-so briefly. Within days, these ruffled beauties, these hundred-petal bombs, wilt and flop over like debutantes after a boozy party. They swiftly mature into leathery seed pods and the year-long wait begins again.
Before you suggest I grow my own peony, do you know that peonies must be planted in the fall and are often without blooms for the first two or three years? Hence the peony grower’s adage “We sleep the first year, we creep the second and we leap the third.”
I can’t wait three years and, anyway, the flower I long for is no garden center special from Lowe’s. The Winterthur peonies — many planted in the 1950s and 1960s — carry a pedigree. This echelon of peonies announce their weddings in the New York Times. They bloom on the grounds of this Delaware chateau because they were chosen by Henry Francis du Pont, born in 1888 and heir to the industrialist family.
Mr. du Pont eventually turned over Winterthur’s immense, naturalistic garden — and his 175-room home — as a public space and museum. Connoisseurs of gardens flock there to ride open-air trams that survey its vistas. If you need more convincing, I crossed paths with Diane Keaton there last April and the U.S. Postal Service just emblazoned Winterthur on a garden series of Forever stamps. I have the stamps — would that I could send a letter to my cherished peony! I would scent it with perfume and close with a line from a Mary Oliver poem: “This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart.”
Like a lightning-bolt love affair, the visible life cycle of a peony is astonishingly brief. Winterthur cuts back its peonies so that when I visited on March 13, the gardens were mostly just a flat expanse of soil with a few tiny shoots breaking through at ground level. A close inspection of the spot where my treasured peony blooms revealed only a hollow, woody reed barely poking up through the mulch.
A lot happens in a few weeks. With velocity, peonies go straight vertical in the early spring. Then, atop the stem, two leaves extend themselves as open-armed as a ballerina in second position. Those graceful arms, that sturdy stem, will soon hold aloft an improbably large peony bud, like Atlas shouldering the heavens. The buds emerge closed tight and often the color of cherry cola, sticky with nectar, pure ambrosia for ants. Peony buds then metamorphize into a firm packet of petals known as the “marshmallow” stage. It’s all I can do not to pop one into my mouth.
That is slightly less crazy than it sounds because peonies are used in salads and jams. But please don’t eat the peonies! That would rob you of what happens next. Finally released from its leafy cocoon, the marshmallow bud yawns open and the peony spirals wide into full flower. Nothing to see here but the annual miracle. Swoon. Two million #peonies photos on Instagram prove I’m not alone.
By mid-May I knew I was running out of options. My peony would soon bloom without me. Delaware’s quarantine rules were relaxing at the beach and the boardwalk, but no word on the gardens. I tried giving other peonies a whirl and even sauntered by a neighbor’s yard to visit their quite nice Festiva Maxima. I dropped in on a tumbledown estate called Gibraltar where some charming peonies ring an Italianate garden. But it turns out I don’t have the kind of heart that can accommodate a side peony. Like real love, my floral ardor is painfully specific.
Fortunately, the heartsick writer always has one trick up her sleeve. She can find out a lot, even during a pandemic, under the premise of “research.” I contacted Winterthur, whose staff confirmed the peonies were all well and had been champs even through a cold snap. Cards on the table, I told the director of horticulture I wanted to know everything about the peonies at Winterthur.
This returned to me the wincing memory of how I once wanted to know everything about a cad (not Dave) who I loved during freshman year. I had even wondered: What kind of toothpaste does this magnificent creature use? Without getting into the details, let’s just say my peony has already been far more loyal and worthy of my sincere interest than the unmagnificent gent from Kappa Sigma.
The staff at Winterthur answered my inquiry by graciously opening their digital archives and sending me the kind of source matter that makes the heart pound. Though I wasn’t able to divine my peony’s name, I did learn a lot more about how the Winterthur peony gardens came to be.
The peony garden almost wasn’t: Du Pont initially planned to grow irises, but the archives hint at some sort of flapdoodle with the Iris Society, which visited in 1937. The visitors shared iced tea and cookies, the records show, but perhaps not du Pont’s inclination to plant his garden strictly “from the point of view of color.”
Du Pont collaborated with two talented women on the gardens: Landscape architect Marian Coffin and Silvia Saunders, daughter of the most well known peony hybridizer in the world, Arthur Percy Saunders Professor Saunders crossed variety after variety and du Pont is credited with having the foresight to acquire many of his cultivars, which he grew in upstate New York.
Du Pont wrote to Saunders, a year before the professor died: “I expect to have a yearly thrill during the remainder of my life from the Saunders garden.”
That time the Winterthur peonies traveled to London: Du Pont encouraged Silvia Saunders to travel to the 1962 Chelsea Flower Show with 300 Winterthur peonies. There, before a silver coromandel screen, and assisted by two famous British horticulturalists, she displayed the well-traveled beauties. The Winterthur blooms garnered five awards including the Lindley Silver Medal. Du Pont, who was among the judges that year, left Silvia Saunders a note on the peony table that read, “Good work, lass!”
It must have been a glorious, celebratory moment, but I like to rewind the tape to six days earlier, when the buds had to be collected in Delaware for the trans-Atlantic trip ahead. I’ve heard tell that they picked the peonies in the rain holding umbrellas over the buds to protect them. Is this not like every romantic movie ever made? And I wonder if my pink peony was in that winning bunch. I feel certain, yes.
How good it feels to be part of an audience that heaps public praise and recognition on those we love and who most surely deserve it. But this year, the Chelsea Flower Show “went digital” just like my son’s college graduation. The staff at Winterthur did all they could for me. They shared photos and videos of the blooming garden on social media That, plus all the archival information, soothed me, but in the partial way of a Zoom call for a momentous occasion.
We had such a call with my graduating son and it was something. But I wanted all 360 degrees, full immersion for my senses. At this moment in our sad year, one feels compelled to say these little griefs — over missed peonies and commencement exercises — are not such a big deal. But they’re not nothing.
Perhaps my joy will double when my son’s postponed graduation celebration finally happens. And I’m sure my heart will swell next May, when the peonies, those “silent, numb nudgers,” emerge from the cold soil to give us all the yearly thrill. Maybe I’ll bring Dave.
Until then, something is always abloom at Winterthur, whose gardens, I’m thrilled to say, have reopened. Summer is just getting started. We can still have purple rhododendron, blue hydrangea and orange day lillies — flowers for when the day is new. I’ll be looking at those blooms, but peony, I’ll be seeing you.
Debra Moffitt is a Delaware writer whose essays have been published in Slate, the Washington Post, and a middle-grade book series by St. Martin’s Press. Photos of peonies at Winterthur taken by the author in May of 2019. 
A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur originally appeared on GardenRant on June 9, 2020.
The post A Peony Kind of Love
and Missing Winterthur appeared first on GardenRant.
from GardenRant https://ift.tt/2XMupa2
0 notes
donaldbifftrump-blog · 6 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
‘Women, you have to treat ‘em like shit’: An exclusive excerpt from SAD! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President
Sad! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President is out now. Below is an exclusive excerpt. To order a copy of the book, click here.
WOMEN: YOU HAVE TO TREAT ‘EM LIKE SHIT. ~ Donald Trump, New York magazine (November 9, 1992)
DONALD TRUMP, THE GRABBER-IN-CHIEF of this great nation, has shamed, slandered, and abused women, yet many voters just look away. Why? Does anyone defend Biff Tannen when he mocks Lorraine, sexually assaults her, or shoves her to the floor? No. Why should “Biff” Trump get a pass?
How are people who ignore the bad behavior of “Biff” Trump able to do the right thing in other situations? When presented evidence of a priest’s misconduct, they don’t say “Yes, he abused children but he gives a great homily, so let’s keep him on.” Apparently anything “Biff” Trump does is “just his personal business” or “water under the bridge.” And besides, “he’s good for the economy.”
Are our pocketbooks really more important than our morality? What does that say about us as a nation? Men, what does it say about us as men if we are able to silently overlook or excuse abusive behavior toward women?
It’s impossible to overlook Biff Tannen’s behavior. Throughout the Back to the Future trilogy, Biff doesn’t ask, he simply takes what he wants, from both men and women. His perverse masculinity confuses force with strength; he views women not as individuals, but as things to be taken, things that exist to serve his needs. It helps that both Biffs are over 6 feet tall. If either was a foot shorter, there’s no way they would get away with acting this way. At least not in public.
In BTTF1, young Biff Tannen personifies the worst fears of American parents who send their daughters off to school each morning. Oversized and oversexed, Biff is feared by classmates and cheered on by his sidekicks, all three of whom are yes-men, fixers, and hooligans.
Biff considers himself a “dreamboat,” but to a girl in his crosshairs, he’s a nightmare. In the scene set in the 1955 school cafeteria, Lorraine sits at a table with a friend and Biff pulls his chair directly behind hers, preventing her escape. Though he’s seated, he’s terrifying in action; he’s easily twice her size. He practically engulfs her; his arms snake around her as he pulls at her clothes. Back in the real world, female airline passengers have complained that “Biff” Trump’s hands were all over them, too.
But 17-year-old Lorraine sticks up for herself and tells Biff to leave her alone, even as his sidekicks encourage him from the next table. The word “no” isn’t in Biff’s vocabulary, though, and he declares with a sneer, “You want it, you know you want it, and you know you want me to give it to you.”
Later in the movie at the dance, things get even worse when Lorraine disagrees and slaps Biff. He grabs her arm and pins her in place with a look that’s as fierce as his grip—and releases her only when Marty McFly rushes over and yanks him off.
It’s an ugly scene, made even uglier by the fact that it takes place in full view of others. If you asked the older, successful version of Biff in BTTF2 to look back and recall his interaction with Lorraine the night he sexually assaulted her, perhaps you can imagine the casino owner describing it like this:
You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything ... grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.
These, of course, are Donald “Biff” Trump’s words on the 2005 “Access Hollywood” tape.
Thirty years later as either middle-manager Biff or car-detailer Biff, does he remember this misbehavior from his school days? If thirty years later the FBI went back and interviewed the other kids in that school cafeteria or at that dance, would they remember those events the way Lorraine does? For George, his memory of the parking lot incident would be as much about punching Biff as it was about Biff’s actions in the car.
But in the movie, the cameras were there and so were we. We saw it. We know what happened, just as Lorraine knows and will never forget, and we can rewind the movie and watch it again. If we don’t, our memory of it will fade because we were only spectators. Lorraine was the object of the abuse and her memory won’t fade—even if others doubt her.
Fast forward from 1955 to the alternate 1985 timeline in BTTF2, when Biff is a wealthy and powerful casino owner. According to Team Biff, he’s now a giant among men:
His power and influence made him the model of world leaders and heads of state. Marvel at Biff’s ongoing relationships with the rich and famous. We’ve all heard the legend. But who is the man?
That’s what we must ask ourselves today. Too bad it wasn’t Biff Tannen who had the following conversation on a radio show, because it would be far easier to excuse these words coming from the mouth of a fictional villain than from the future president of the United States.
Howard Stern: Will Dakota Fanning grow up hot?
Donald Trump: No. No.
Stern: She will not?
Trump: She will always be cute.
Stern: But she’ll never be hot.
Trump: She’ll never be hot.
Dakota Fanning was 11 years old at the time.
Trump sexualizing young girls is not a one-time incident—in a 1992 TV special, he speaks with a 14-year-old girl as she’s riding up an escalator, and he says, “I am going to be dating her in ten years. Can you believe it?”
“Biff” Trump’s sexual thoughts roll around like a loose cannon on deck. A very loose cannon. When his own daughter Tiffany was an infant—just a year old—he commented and gestured on camera about what her breasts might one day look like.
Many adults feel the need to give back to their communities through their PTA, Little League, or Girl Scouts. Not “Biff” Trump; the owner of the Miss Universe beauty pageant was too busy prowling around the dressing rooms of teenage contestants.
“You know, they’re standing there with no clothes,” said Trump, according to Rolling Stone. “And you see these incredible-looking women. And so I sort of get away with things like that.” These young women later recalled feeling like “cattle” being graded by the rancher who owned them.
Now let’s compare the two men’s current marriages. Both Biff and “Biff” show a repeated and willful lack of concern about their wives, as if they were chattel, or even just cattle.
Lorraine Tannen is Biff’s abused, unloved third wife. Their relationship is usurious. If we look back at the video clip of the day they got married, we hear Biff saying “Number three’s a charm” as he pushes his tongue into Lorraine’s mouth, ignoring her discomfort and disgust. This, on their wedding day.
“Biff” Trump’s third wife, Melania, has recently displayed frostiness toward him in public, including incidents when she wouldn’t hold his hand. Numerous times she’s decided not to appear in public with her husband, or even travel in the same vehicle with him. It must be difficult for her today to hear explicit details of his times with Stormy Daniels and Karen McDougal—from a time when Barron was just an infant.
In BTTF3, Biff Tannen lounges in a jacuzzi with two women while his wife is in the building; Lorraine could have walked in on them just as easily as her son Marty does. “Biff” Trump gave Playboy Playmate Karen McDougal a tour of his New York apartment shortly after Melania had given birth to their son, Barron. Assured that Melania wasn’t in the building, Ms. McDougal asked about the staff. “Biff” told her “they won’t say anything”—as if they knew the drill, they knew the score.
Multiple wives and women, accusations of multiple offenses and denials from Trump, but sexual perpetrators almost always deny their guilt.
“You could have just walked away.”
These are Seamus McFly’s words of wisdom to his great-grandson Marty in BTTF3 after Biff goads Marty. This was meant to teach Marty that masculinity doesn’t require responding to violence with violence, to reassure him that no one would think less of him if he’d simply walked away.
But what about people who sometimes can’t walk away? Like your daughter, your mother or sister.
“Biff” Trump is in a position of dominance when he meets his prey; he’s the boss, a rich man, TV star, beauty pageant owner, or even president. Walking away simply isn’t a choice for many women. And what about the countless others who did walk away, those who did have a choice? How many are out there and have yet to speak up?
Ask “Biff” about his attitude toward women and he’ll tell you he was one of the first to promote women to high positions in a male-dominated field. This is somewhat true—but remember, when he promoted them, he was in charge, he was in control.
But when he’s confronted with a woman who’s his equal, not an underling, Trump displays ape-like dominance and an imagined superiority. When meeting with Angela Merkel, the Chancellor of Germany and one of the most powerful women in
the world, “Biff” Trump refused to shake her hand. On another occasion, he flung candy on a table in front of her, saying “don’t say I never give you anything.” Trump referred to the Prime Minister of the U.K. by her first name, Theresa, instead of her title; he didn’t bow to Queen Elizabeth and later walked in front of her because he couldn’t be bothered to learn protocol.
And his stalky, leering performance during the second presidential debate33 with Hillary Clinton raised the hackles of many women watching.
Whether interacting with women in power or with more vulnerable women, “Biff” Trump reveals his utter lack of respect. He objectifies women; they’re merely things for him to use. More than a dozen accusations of sexual assault have been lodged against him.
Biff Tannen and “Biff” Trump are the same man. No introspection, no regret about their infidelities, no compassion, no sympathy for their partners. Serve the self, do it right now, and move on.
There is no chance the original Biff will ever address these issues, but in the real world, “Biff” Trump should. Brett Kavanaugh’s anger before the Senate Judiciary Committee in September 2018 and Trump’s demeaning responses to the accusations leveled at him over the years show how hard it is to effect societal change on this topic. Nearly 20 percent of American women have experienced rape or attempted rape during their lifetimes, often committed by someone they know, but false accusations are very rare. A man has no clue how the possibility of sexual assault can shape a woman’s behavior at a social gathering or when considering the safety of transportation options or public restrooms—or even walking down the street.
For the good of all American people, Trump (and Kavanaugh) must exhume and prioritize these issues, not deny and bury them.
Women exist only to serve men’s primal needs, after all. Biff and “Biff” both are devoid of morals and unbound by cultural norms. When it comes to interacting with women, they either don’t know or don’t give a damn what kind of behavior is acceptable—or even legal.
To order a copy of Sad! Donald ‘Biff’ Trump Is President, click here.
0 notes