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jerrylevitch · 3 years ago

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Do you think or know whether Jerry ever regretted all of the affairs and sleeping around? Or if he looked back on it differently later on? I know he'd talked about it kind of jokingly, which i'm sure was a default/defense mechanism. I also get all the factors that contributed to that behavior so I don't really judge him for it, and he wasn't the only one doing it by any means...I was just wondering if you had a take on it or knew anything. Still love him, that horny little bugger lol ;)

He did feel guilty and for awhile, and he tried to be faithful to Patti in his own mind by not finishing inside the woman he was with. According to Jane McCormick:

"Jerry was almost bashful when it came to having sex, but he thoroughly enjoyed it. Still, he had a quirky way of dealing with his loyalty to his wife. He would not climax inside me, no matter what kind of sex we had."

Of course you'll see Jerry boasting about his sexual escapades and other crap like he didn't care when he was older like on E True Hollywood Story or Playboy, and GQ Magazine, but I always go back to this passage that Jerry wrote to himself and consider this the truth, because here he didn't have to put on a show for anyone, or try to look macho by saying he had all these women.

From Patti Lewis' book:

”To ask how deeply I feel is like asking, ‘Where is God?’” ”We can answer with nothing more than “if’s” and “maybe’s.” “In other words, the answers are really intangibles, yet I’m going to attempt to answer one of them to the best of my knowledge and awareness.

My feelings, where my wife is concerned, are very deep and very sacred…She is the very reason I live…for she is the only reason I know that makes living worth anything…and the boys that she produced for me are equally worth it, but one day they’ll leave and then there will be only us…

She is the first human thing that has ever cared about me or for me…Oh, there were little dogs, and little boys and a few beings that cared, but not enough that I could have survived.

It was only when she came into my life that I realized I had a life to live…I was always made to feel that I was given a case of breath out of pity…It was as though someone said, “We have plenty, give him some.” Then I knew I had to make good and be someone, or something a little better than those that gave me an occasional handout… As I got older, I didn’t much care about being better than them anymore…I just cared about staying alive and getting some degree of respect as a human thing on God’s Earth…I knew he didn’t mean to have anyone just exist…but he meant fur us all to have a meaning and a purpose. I have to try to get my thoughts put in the proper place so I can put things down that really count! Now then, if my wife was the first to care and to really treat me like a human being with love and warmth and the like…the big question is, “How could I have treated this special being as I have?” My answer that I find coming is… After so many years of being made to feel like nothing…I guess I worked on being something so much more than nothing…that I found myself making the real somethings around me nothing in the haste that drove me to be something…The responsibility of taking care of the loves I had always had made me feel like, “Why should I care for what one day will discard me anyway?” I don’t know if that’s the case, but it sounds right…and coming from someone who loves those tremendous loves as I do, it certainly confuses me, too… My constant silence, I think, has been fear…of what my love would think of what I’ve done…fear of doing the wrong thing…and losing the respect I have always felt I got from her…to be placed in the position of being disrespected and disregarded again has always knotted up my insides so badly that silence seemed the only way to avoid the possibility of rejection…very often my hiding was part and parcel of that fear…The feeling of being nothing again, or being looked at with disdain, has, for as long as I can remember, been tearing me up inside…And those tears have come out looking like torment…Well, tormented I am, and have been, and pray one day soon I won’t know the feeling anymore… My wrapping myself up so completely in my work helped for a while, but the “ego” that came across was never there…I have none. But I work desperately at displaying “ego” to cover the real emptiness I know inside… As a director I have found infinite peace…because I am to so many…an authority, a man who knows, and not someone who is treated with “pity” or “charity”…That’s the biggest reason for the love of creativity I have, for a man is free when he is creating. Not just creating “funny” by way of the mask I wear, but by making others the puppets…and making them stand out front for a change…The feeling of “behind the camera” feels safe, and warm, and special, and certain…”Out front” has been very hard and trying for me…and for the first time in my life I think I can honestly admit…I hated doing it and I still do…The happiness that seemed to appear from standing “in one” was nothing more than getting a general acceptance from a lot of people who care at the moment….But “at the moment” isn’t enough for me anymore… I need all the care I can get all the time…and I only seem to be able to get that from my love, my wife… I don’t ever want to appear “indifferent” to my wife…but that appearance, too, I think is just hoping not to be a burden and an annoyance to her...I just can’t remember ever being anything but an annoyance…and when I’m told I’m not, I can’t seem to recognize that is possibly the case. I don’t like to hide and run…I want to be free to go and do as any other man does… I know I need help…but I really believe the help will come from within…as soon as I can place things in their right positions… Admitting to “hating performing” might help me adjust sooner…Admitting the love I have for writing and direction will, I’m sure, take me out of the depths of my depression…and will ultimately take me into the realm of peace and contentment. I want to talk more, I want to communicate more…I want

to say so much, and get help from her, I want so much to scream the things that tug away at my heart and my soul…And when I try, the hurt is so strong, and deep, and festered that I clam up, and the relief I want doesn’t come… Now to bury that grief…I find someone who has equally as much or more than I so that I can be the helping hand…For if I can help, then my hurts can’t be so bad…How much trouble can I have, if I’m listening to someone else’s? And for years I made that a practice…to give of myself only to forget I needed more giving than anyone… I don’t think I have always been aware of that fact…I really wanted to share and give and be charitable…but there’s that word again…charitable…I should have known better. For “charity” was the one thing that started my life wrong.. I wasn’t entitled to charity by those people when I was so very young…I was entitled to all the love and care all little lives should get…But how long did I have to wait to realize “charity” shouldn’t deal with the ones we love…They should only get the real “love” and nothing more…and give “charity” to strangers in need…Period! (And they should be picked carefully!) I’m trying to feel “God” in me and maybe with his help we can push out the torment…and place the “alive” of a being, back where it was taken from… With it all I am a very lucky man…to have found the real, right, and perfect human being to spend my years with. I want so much to do the right thing to keep her straight and happy and healthy… When she is ill, the reaction to it isn’t any different than when the spike is forced into the vampire’s heart…it’s the only emotional thing that can kill me, and that’s when she hurts…or when I’ve caused her pain…but my intentions are never to hurt her, never to do her a moment’s pain…Never to create a frown on her lovely face…Why those things happen are a complexity to us both…And I will serve myself from here on in as a student of care and concern and caution as to how she gets treated and how I allow much of my feelings to affect her… I can only answer “God” honestly, and he knows my worth and my intentions, I have no fear of his wrath…for I know he knows I’m basically good, and fine, and honorable when it comes to my love and my soul for her… I have no guilt about what I have done thru my blindness…I only have guilt for the things I might have avoided doing…If I had just put…”First things first.” I will try! And “God” knows my heart is talking, not the typewriter.”

#Jerry Lewis #anonymous

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raendown · 4 years ago

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Todays follower milestone gift fic is for @sparklemagpie with the prompt word importune. Can you tell I had fun writing this one?

Pairing: ShikamaruTemariTayuya Word count: 1966 Rated: T+ Summary: For the two women in his life Shikamaru will do whatever it takes. As long as they're happy he's happy. When they're not...well, when they're not you get situations like this one.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Just The Right Cherry On Top

Shikamaru would have told anyone who asked that it didn’t start off as begging. No one was really asking, though, and the shreds of pride still buried in the back of his mind somewhere told him that was a problem. If no one was asking questions that usually meant they thought they already had the answers. But they didn’t. They really didn’t. When it came to his two girls Shikamaru was smugly aware that he was usually the only one with answers.

Well, answers to questions like ‘are you sure they’re not trying to kill each other’ or usually ‘how can you stand to live between that’. The questions about what might be going on in either woman’s mind were ones he didn’t even try to guess at. He knew when to back away from a problem he would never figure out.

Right now he didn’t so much have a problem as he did have a disaster. He knew very well that relationships took work, that his work would be doubled when he agreed to marry both of the most important women in his life, and since he had not a day went by when he didn’t consider that work so very worth it. For the most part their days were happy. Blissful, even. Shikamaru was as flawed as any other human being but among his flaws pride wasn’t usually the one that tripped him up. Disaster only really happened when pride snuck up on the other two parts of his soul.

Tayuya, as usual, was the first to start throwing insults. And of course Temari, when faced with a hot temper, flared her own with the kind of heat usually accomplished only with the most deadly katon. Standing on the other side of the kitchen with a frying pan in one hand and his face in the other, Shikamaru briefly wondered if there were any missions available that would take him far away until these two crazy goddesses sorted their own shit out.

There weren’t. He checked. Discreetly, of course.

After the first couple days of cold silence it became obvious that this was one of those fights they needed him to bring them back from, when pride and stubbornness and sheer petty spite held both of their lips shut, eyes refusing to meet, tempers refusing to back down. These were the kind of fights that reminded Shikamaru why the three of them really worked as a full unit, one single whole, any weakness in one covered by another. Knowing that never made it any less annoying trying to be the cover to their weakness. They might need him but in those moments they sure didn’t want to need him.

“What’ll it take this time?” Shikamaru could hear the exhaustion in his own voice but that’s just what happened when he hadn’t gotten more than three consecutive hours of sleep for the past week.

“Nothing,” Temari snapped. “Maybe this is just it!��

Drawing a hand down his face spoke louder than words how little he believed that. If he looked really close he could see the lines of aching tiredness in Temari’s expression that told him she didn’t believe it either.

“Right,” he murmured. “I’ll just go talk to her then.

And so he did, though it would be hard to express just how unsurprised he was to get a very similar reaction from Tayuya.

“Fuck that bitch and her high horse!”

“You could if one of you would say sorry,” Shikamaru couldn’t help pointing out.

“Oh no fucking way! Not with a ten foot god damned pole!”

“What if I said please?”

So that was how it started. Or got to the middle, really. Much to the contrary of what other people seemed to think, Shikamaru was not so whipped as to just fall on his knees and beg any time he encountered the slightest of resistance in their relationship. He had some self respect. In the face of these two boneheads, however, self respect was a concept he was more than willing to throw out the window in favor of a full night’s rest, something he would not be getting until their home saw peace again.

One instance of saying please did nothing. Twice did little more than that. Somewhere around the fifteen ‘please’ he switched tactics and added a cherry on top. Tayuya rather harshly reminded him that she hated cherries and described in very colorful detail where he could stick his polite words. Clearly another tactic was needed.

As a smart man Shikamaru very carefully ignored all of Naruto’s well meaning suggestions like sending his wives flowers pretending they were from each other. Maybe that would have worked on someone like Hinata who was determined to look at the world and see the best in everyone but Shikamaru had married two people determined to look at the world through a cold lens of cynicism. Gods but he loved it. Loved the both of them. He just didn’t love the fights. Naruto meant well but the one and only time any of them had seen Hinata truly mad had been the middle of a battle against the reanimated body of a dead man handing Naruto his own ass. It was great for the two of them to finally find happiness. When he thought of their calm and sweet relationship Shikamaru sometimes just couldn’t help but wonder how they didn’t get bored with no one around to throw a plate or two.

Since being nice about it didn’t do much his next step was to try being firm. This time he went to Tayuya first because if he could crack her then honestly he was pretty sure he could crack the whole world. His efforts in this round were about as successful as the first.

“Go ahead and try to tell me what to do one more time, Nara.” Right up in his face Tayuya was all fire, in her hair and in her eyes and in every move of the arm currently jamming in to his chest. “I’ve had just about enough of being ordered around for one lifetime, you hear me?” Oh he did. He did hear her. He also heard the undertone of heat and it wasn’t until an hour after he left their home in the daze of post orgasmic bliss that he realized he’d been had. Maybe Choji was right and he did think with his dick a little too much.

Going to see Temari hadn’t exactly had better results - although he’d known better from the start than to consider either one of them ‘better’ than the other in certain departments. After making it very clear how much she both enjoyed and scorned his attempts to law down some kind of law Temari rode him against the nearest walls and sent him off afterwards with a few choice words about how she really didn’t mind wearing only his marks on her skin from now on. Since he hadn’t been the one to bring that up Shikamaru saw through it right away. They missed each other, a blind man could see that. Getting them to admit it was the hard part.

So that was a bust on trying to put his foot down but if he were honest Shikamaru hadn’t expected any different. The next thing he tried was bribery. After the harsh years both of his wives had experienced it was entirely understandable that they should enjoy being waited on hand and foot. Usually the offer was an irresistible one to them; hence why he didn’t make it very often, a special treat for special occasions when he needed to remind them just how precious they really were. When not just one but both of them turned him down this time Shikamaru had to take a nice long walk through the woods and feed the deer for a while, wondering if maybe the magic offer had lost its touch at last. Or if maybe he was the one that had lost his touch. It took a good long while and three different deer taking curious nibbles of his ponytail before he shook himself and stood up with a little more steel in his spine.

Clearly this problem was running out of control and that meant bringing in the biggest weapon he had at his disposal. One didn’t spend a lifetime best friends with the Yamanaka heir without picking up some tricks.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please please?”

“I said no, fuck off Shika.”

“Uhhh, please and please and please?”

Tayuya actually stopped walking to round on him with furrowed brows. “You get hit upside the head or something? This is- you’re acting like a damn child!”

“Maybe.” Shikamaru clasped his hands together and lifted his eyes to the clouds above them. “How many times I gotta say please? Cause I will. Give me a number, I’ll do it.”

“For real?”

“Please, please, please, please, plea-”

Ignoring the baffled looks of anyone passing them by was a lot easier than ignoring the sharp voice that spoke from the doorway, rough at the edges under the heavy weight of defeat and sadness.

“He might not look like it, but he’s really just a child in a man’s body.” Temari studiously did not look at her wife when Tayuya whipped around to stare at her, missing the ripple of yearning that went through all those well honed muscles. “You probably shouldn’t test it. He really will just keep going.”

“Sounds annoying as hell,” Tayuya ventured.

Neither of them seemed to notice when Shikamaru fell silent, still, waiting with baited breath.

“It’d probably be less painful if we just give in. He already did that to me for two hours this morning and I don’t know if I can listen to it for much longer without violence that I’m pretty sure I would regret.” The proud set of Temari’s jaw was that of a queen making concessions. The dark warmth of her eyes when they finally canted sideways was that of a wife who missed the touch of her beloved.

“Good fucking god, two hours? Yeah, hell no. I ain’t listening to that. Let’s just get this over with or something then.”

“For the best.”

Despite that agreement it still took about five solid minutes of staring wordlessly in to each others’ eyes before either of them made any more toward the other. In the end they moved at the same time, reaching out with the same hand, laughing in a fondly awkward way as their fingers entwined. The moment would have been utterly beautiful if Shikamaru hadn’t breathed in very deeply just to let it all back out in one great rush.

“Finally,” he muttered. Both of his wives frowned at him.

“Wait.” Temari narrowed her eyes as though only now realizing what she’d done. “How did you do that?” She didn’t seem to appreciate the sheer exasperation filling him up in place of all the soft pleading he’d been wearing for days now.

“You don’t just hang around with Ino for this long without learning how to annoy someone in to giving up.”

Before either of his wives could say anything Shikamaru was spinning on one heel and marching out the door, grumbling under his breath while he rummaged around his flack vest for a pack of smokes. Troublesome women and their troublesome tempers. At times he really did wonder why he put up with it. Two sets of footsteps rushing after him was a good reminder, though he thought he would be well within his rights to make them do a little begging after all the trouble he’d gone through just to bridge the gap between their overinflated prides. Worth it, absolutely worth it, but damn if they weren’t trouble sometimes.

#rae writes #follower milestone #shikatematayu #shikamaru #temari #tayuya

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giogiohcs · 4 years ago

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Smartass.

Jackass.

Chapter 6

Summary: A 12 year old must survive in a brand new world, a world where the dead walk and eat the living. She thought she was all alone and she preferred it that way but unfortunately a certain jackass with baseball bat has taken a liking to her.

“Maybe if you do what I do, we wouldn’t have to worry about the undead trying to get us. It’d be easier.” Caterina stated as they walked the highways again. Negan scoffed.

“And wear undead guts 24-fucking-7? No-Mcfucking-thanks. I had to wash my ass 20 times before it felt clean, which is 19 more times than I’d like to.” Negan felt his stomach twisting remembering the undead smell that stuck on him for days.

“And besides, wouldn’t I be doing the world an ol’ fuck-you by hiding this gorgeous face? I mean the dick isn’t the only asset a man can have.” He smirked to himself and stroked his chin at his own compliments.

“I think you’d be doing the world a favor if you did hide it...” Caterina murmured under her breath. Negan stopped and turned to her with a stern stare. He bent down to meet her eyes.

“What was that, kid?” He challenged, she turned to him and they kept their gazes on each other for awhile before she started walking away.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, smartass.” He smirked and started walking with her again.

“Jackass.” She huffed, Negan grinned and placed his arm around her shoulders, which she immediately pulled away from.

“Look at us, getting all fucking mushy. Next thing you know we’ll be talking about which girlish boy band members make us gush like goddamn fucking geysers!” He joked, she rolled her eyes. Caterina still didn’t understand why he had to be so vulgar about... well about everything. She’s known him for awhile now and still didn’t know what to think of him. They made their way off the nearest exit, the entire highway and area were almost completely clear of life except for a few dead ones that were either stuck in or under a car. If you considered the dead ones “life”. Further ahead was a gas station and auto repair shop, according to the ads in a phonebook they found. They approached the buildings when Negan stopped in his tracks and turned to Caterina.

“Caterina, in all seriousness—“ Negan started but was interrupted.

“HEY!” Caterina jumped at the unfamiliar voice then froze. Negan smiled as he saw a figure coming out of the auto repair shop. A tall slender man with curly blonde hair wearing a t-shirt and swim shorts waved wildly as he approached them. Caterina backed up before getting out her gun and aiming it at him, the man stopped in his tracks and held his hands up with wide eyes.

“WAIT DON’T KILL ME!” He yelled.

“Woooah, kid, that’s not how we do things anymore.” Negan blocked her aim with his arm, her gaze met his eyes, in silent agreement she put the gun away. He turned to the now a little less frightened man.

“Sorry for my friend here, she can be intense sometimes but she doesn’t mean harm.” He held Lucille over his shoulder with a smile on his face.

“What’s your name?” He asked, the man smiled in return.

“David but my friends call- called me Wavy Davy, man.” His Californian accent was prominent, Negan lowered Lucille and came close to him before swinging his arm around Davy’s shoulder.

“Wavy Davy... man I am LOVING that shit!” Negan bursted out in chuckles as the two of them walked ahead into auto repair shop, leaving Caterina behind. She peeked into the windows of the gas station convenience store. The store appeared to be empty. She walked in, knelt to a self and opened her bag, she slid the last cans of food into her bag. She didn’t bother to look at what was inside the cans as it didn’t matter, as long as they were edible.

“What a beauty!” Negan exclaimed and knelt down to get a closer look at the car.

“A 1966 Cadillac El Dorado, at least, that’s what my dad said it was, I’ve always been more of surfer dude than a car dude.” Davy shrugged, Negan knelt to take a closer look.

“She’s beautiful! Almost beautiful enough to make a grown man cry, almost...” He smirked as he admired the paint job and accessories of the car.

“So what’s your name?” Davy asked as he continued to watch Negan admire his car.

“Negan, and I don’t think you’ll need to worry about wearing it out.” He laughed.

“What’s your daughter’s name?” Davy asked and Negan turned to him with a confused look on his face.

“David you think I’m Caterina’s old man? Do I look Asian-American? Because last I checked I’m as white as fucking square dancing on the goddamn Fourth of July.” Negan joked, Davy just scratched the back of his head.

“Oh shit sorry, I just assumed because you were together and... dude don’t you know what race she is? I mean how long have you been traveling together?” Davy asked, Negan scratched his chin at Davy’s criticism.

“I think we’ve been sticking together for the past week or two, hard to fucking tell with no fucking calendar obviously. And besides she doesn’t like talking especially not about herself. She doesn’t whine about a world than no longer fucking exists. She’s strong unlike some people.” He made the pointed comment at Davy then got up from kneeling and got real close to his face. He smacked the car with his hand and didn’t break eye-contact with him until Davy broke and looked to the floor.

“Are you strong Davy? How many of those undead fucks have you killed?” Negan challenged,

“I-uh... haven’t killed one. It’s wrong and they’re not dead, they’re sick people.” Davy explained, Negan scoffed, a headache was coming on. But Davy was 19 at most, Negan sighed, Davy is still a kid. He reminded himself.

“Listen Davy. Adaptation is strength. People can’t adapt, die. I’ve seen my fair share of people dying because of that and I don’t want you to make the same mistake.” Negan explained calmly but the conversation was cut off when a loud crash came from the other side of the wall from the convenience store.

#my post #tsas speaks #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #negan fanfic #negan fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #negan #negan basically adopts my oc #the walking dead oc #twd oc #twd imagine

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omniversalobservations · 5 years ago

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Supergirl (December 2019)

Holy crimson skies of death! Part One of the Arrow-verse crossover “Crisis on Infinite Earths” destroyed Earth-38 and sent Stephen Amell’s Oliver Queen to an early grave after he stayed behind to avert the anti-matter wave from killing billions more people. Even The Monitor didn’t foresee it happening! While all the superheroes assembled to try and prevent Earth-38’s destruction, the episode still managed to include quite a few familiar faces from across the DC multiverse. Here are all the cameos from the Supergirl portion of “Crisis,” so let’s get to it.

Alexander Knox Sees Red Skies On Earth-89 Tim Burton’s 1989 Batman was confirmed in “Crisis on Infinite Earths,” even if the moment was short-lived. Robert Wuhl’s Alexander Knox, a Gotham Globe reporter, appeared in a brief scene at the beginning of the episode. In the scene, Alexander is seen reading the Gotham City Gazette with the headline “Batman Captures Joker!” As soon as the red skies emerge, Alexander notices the Bat signal. “I hope you’re watching, Big Guy,” says Alexander. Unfortunately, even if Batman was around to see the red skies, it was already too late and Earth-89’s fate was sealed.

Dick Grayson Walks Ace On Earth-66 While Burt Ward had already been confirmed to appear in “Crisis on Infinite Earths,” it wasn’t expected for his cameo to be nestled in the opening montage of Part One. The scene in question detailed the multiverse’s birth (and upcoming death) while flashing to different Earths across the multiverse.

One of the Earths was Earth-66, which showed Burt Ward’s Dick Grayson from the 1966 Batman TV series walking Ace, the beloved Bat-hound. Ward played Batman’s trusty sidekick, Dick Grayson/Robin, in the Batman series. Ward’s version of Dick is clearly no longer the Boy Wonder, but it was good to see him again before Earth-66’s unfortunate demise.

DC Universe’s Titans Appear On Earth-9 Arrow-verse executive producer Marc Guggenheim tried his best to bring together a plethora of characters from across DC’s shows and movies, and even asked Nicolas Cage to appear! Even though fans knew to expect the unexpected when it came to cameos, it was still surprising to see Jason Todd’s Robin (Walter Curran) and Hawk (Alan Ritchson) from DC Universe's Titans, which just wrapped its second season and finally transformed Dick Grayson into Nightwing. It was only a quick shot of the two of them, but it does confirm that the Titans exist somewhere in the DC multiverse. Too bad Alan Ritchson couldn’t return as Smallville’s Aquaman, though!

Earth-X’s The Ray Makes A Comeback! The crossover “Crisis on Earth-X,” which saw Nazis crash Barry Allen and Iris West’s wedding on Earth-1, introduced a freedom fighter named The Ray. Originally from Earth-1, The Ray helped the Arrow-verse heroes defeat Earth-X’s Nazis. He’s briefly seen flying across the skies, presumably while protecting his earth from those who wish to destroy it. However, the cameo is brief as he and Earth-X vanish in the anti-matter wave.

Source: Cinema Blend

The baton has officially been passed.

In hour 1 of the CW’s “Crisis on Infinite Earths” crossover, which aired on Supergirl Sunday night, Oliver Queen/Green Arrow (Stephen Amell) and his daughter Mia (Katherine McNamara) joined the rest of the Arrowverse’s heroes on Earth-38 to fight the Anti-Monitor’s shadow army. Before wading into battle, though, Oliver gifted Mia her very own Green Arrow super-suit.

Katherine McNamara opened up about how much this exchange meant to be both Mia and her personally when she dropped by EW’s after-show Crisis Aftermath, which was hosted by Kevin Smith and aired on the CW following Supergirl.

“That was one of my favorite moments to shoot definitely just because Stephen and I have spent most of the season together and getting to watch him work and being a part of this story and this being my first crossover,” said McNamara. “That was such a big moment for both characters and I think we both felt that.”

Shortly after this, though, Oliver is mortally injured battling the shadow army, and the Monitor returns him to the Team Arrow bunker, where he dies surrounded by Mia, the Flash (Grant Gustin), Sara (Caity Lotz), and the other heroes. McNamara felt a very weird mix of emotions when they shot that scene.

“That was a historic moment in many ways for me personally. It was my first day on set with everyone in the suits. It was my first day wearing my suit on set, so I was so excited,” she said. “Then I get to set and I realize, ‘Oh I have to cry over my dying father. Let me reframe my entire headspace.'” She continued, “It was so wonderful, and Stephen killed it. Everybody really came together because Stephen, in a sense, was the beginning of this entire universe.”

With Oliver’s death, the Green Arrow mantle is now firmly in Mia’s hands. But, as Smith wonders, does Mia actually want this responsibility?

“That’s been the toughest kind of struggle for Mia throughout her entire process of being involved in this,” said McNamara, who will be the new Green Arrow if The CW orders the in-development spin-off Green Arrow and the Canaries, which will have a backdoor pilot in Arrow‘s final season. “She was raised in a world in which vigilantes were villainized and she’s come full circle with that having met her father and kind of gotten a look into the difficult choices he’s had to make. Now, she’s been through and worked through all of these issues and has a wonderful relationship with her father. She doesn’t want the responsibility because she doesn’t want to lose him. She knows she can take it on. She knows she’s ready for it. But she’s finally filled the one missing piece of her life and doesn’t want to lose that. That’s kind of the tragedy. Yes, there always needs to be one Green Arrow, but there’s only one Green Arrow. So she knows that’s coming to an end and it’s difficult.”

Crossover executive producer Marc Guggenheim added that legacy is a big theme in “Crisis on Infinite Earths.” “It’s not just the passing of the torch from Oliver to Mia,” he said. “There’s a lot of passing the torch and keeping the flame alive.”

Guggenheim also revealed a very intriguing detail about the Arrow hour of the crossover, which doesn’t air until January. “We open with the mother of all flashbacks and we basically do the secret origin of the Monitor and the Anti-Monitor,” said Guggenheim. “Actually that whole sequence, the first draft, was written by [Crisis on Infinite Earths comic writer] Marv Wolfman.” He added, “We give you an explanation for the [Monitor’s] outfit.”

Source: Entertainment Weekly

The Arrowverse's biggest crossover ever takes place over all five superhero series on The CW, starting with Supergirl. Crisis has been building since last year's Elseworlds crossover, which introduced the cosmic being known as The Monitor (LaMonica Garrett), who began 'testing' the many worlds of the Multiverse to see if they were strong enough to survive the cataclysm to come. Crisis has accelerated throughout the current seasons of Supergirl, The Flash, Batwoman, and Arrow but now the end is here.

With the anti-matter wave sent by Crisis' big bad, the Anti-Monitor, threatening the Multiverse, Harbinger (Audrey Anderson) gathered Green Arrow (Stephen Amell), Mia Smoak (Katherine McNamara), Superman (Tyler Hoechlin), Lois Lane (Elizabeth Tulloch), Sara Lance (Caity Lotz), Ray Palmer (Brandon Routh), Batwoman (Ruby Rose), and The Flash (Grant Gustin) to Earth-38, the home of Supergirl (Melissa Benoist). The heroes had to defend Kara Zor-El's world from the anti-matter wave using a Quantum Tower constructed by the Monitor and repel an attack by a horde of Shadow Demons. However, despite their best efforts to evacuate the planet with the help of Lena Luthor (Katie McGrath), they couldn't save Supergirl's world.

Crisis Part 1 delivered on the promise that the crossover's stakes are life and death on a Multiversal scale. Literally billions died in the first chapter of the epic and this, shockingly, included one of the Arrowverse's founders and greatest heroes. Here's the body count of Crisis Part 1, which is just the start of the cataclysm that will reshape the Arrowverse:

* Alura (Erica Durance), the mother of Supergirl. Alura was introduced in Supergirl season 1, when she was played by Laura Benanti but Smallville's Erica Durance took over the role in season 3. Helped Superman and Lois launch their infant son Jonathan on a rocket before the antimatter wave struck, in a moment poignantly echoing Kal-El's origin story, so Jon Kent survived, though he landed in Earth-16's Star City in the year 2046 and had to be saved by Lois, Brainiac (Jesse Rath), and Sara Lance. Of course, Durance will return as Smallville's version of Lois Lane later in Crisis.

* Everyone on Argo City, the last surviving city of Krypton. Unfortunately, Argo had no starships to evacuate besides the spacecraft Alura saved for baby Jon so the people of Argo were all wiped out by the antimatter wave. Luckily, Harbinger teleported Superman and Lois to Earth-38 at the last minute.

* Earth-38 was destroyed, including 3-billion people who couldn't evacuate the planet in time. Despite the superheroes' efforts to defend the planet, they couldn't stop the antimatter wave from wiping out Supergirl's adopted world. While a wave of spaceships supplied by Brainiac and many of the aliens who took refuge on the planet was able to evacuate 4-billion lives to Earth-1 (thanks to a dimensional portal built by Lena Luthor), they couldn't save everyone. The Monitor said 7.53-billion people lived on Earth-38 so over 3 1/2-billion people died when the planet was destroyed.

* Green Arrow (Oliver Queen) gave up his life to help the evacuation of Earth-38 after the Monitor had teleported the rest of the superheroes to Earth-1. Out of arrows, Green Arrow took on the army of Shadow Demons by himself and was fatally injured before the Monitor rescued him. Oliver had long expected to die during Crisis and he spent all of Arrow season 8 preparing for the inevitable. On his deathbed, Oliver confessed to Barry Allen and Kara Danvers that he made a deal with the Monitor to spare their lives in exchange for his during Crisis - but the Monitor revealed that this wasn't the death he foresaw for Oliver, which casts serious doubt on how the Arrowverse's heroes can defend the Multiverse in Crisis On Infinite Earths.

Source: Screen Rant

In the beginning there was only one. A single black infinitude. Then the infinitude found release, and finally, the darkness broke, filling it with life.. With the multi-verse. Every existence multiplied by possibility. And spread out before space and time in infinite measure. Civilizations rose and fell. And rose again across reality's expanse. Life. A precious gift persevering in the face of every obstacle, until finally, the age of heroes was born. Chaos. The constant enemy of life, kept at by champions across the multiverse. Joining forces to fight on behalf of all creation. They found each other just in time because now, the entire multi—verse is about to come under attack. There is a malevolent force at work, one driven by a singular goal. The destruction of all there is. I have planned, there are those who say I have schemed, but the time for preparation has passed.

Source: TVMaze

(images via YouTube)

#television #Supergirl #Batman #Robin #multiverse

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fanficmoi · 6 years ago

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Paul Tops John

@johnsdoublechin I haven't forgotten about u

Paul 1966

“I think John and I are going to stick around for a bit longer.” Said Paul, “Just wana go over a couple of songs.”

George Martin looked at them with a raised eyebrow, “Are you sure, boys?”

Paul smiled innocently at him and held up a piece of paper with some lyrics, “Yeah. Don’t worry, we won’t mess with your controls.”

George Martin hummed doubtfully, but nodded. “Alright then. Goodnight, Paul. Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Georgini Martini!” Screamed John obnoxiously from where he was sitting on a stool spinning around.

The producer sighed but said nothing and left the two writers to their activities.

Once he was certain Martin was gone, Paul turned to John with a smile.

His partner smirked at him, “Go over a couple of songs, eh?”

“I could hardly tell him the truth now, could I?” Paul said with a shrug.

“Oh, I wouldn't mind.” Said John.

Paul didn’t answer, only came to stand before him, standing between John’s open legs. He raised a hand and cupped one of John’s cheeks, “Have you been a good boy, Johnny?”

John nodded with a proud smile, “Yes, daddy.”

Paul hummed, “Stand up and turn.”

John did as told, raising the back of his blazer so Paul didn’t have to.

His lover was wearing loose trousers that day, so Paul could easily slip a hand under the waistline and reach down to feel for the plug he’d put on his lover in the morning after a round of sex. He felt it underneath the underwear and tapped it in approval, making John jump. “Very good, darling. I’m proud of you.”

John smiled and closed his eyes, “Thank you, daddy.” He knew that when they were playing this roles he wasn’t allowed to say more than short sentences.

“Do you think you’re ready to take me again?” Paul asked as he rubbed the other’s shoulder.

John turned to face him, “Please, daddy.” He had been ready all bleeding day. Paul hadn’t just stuck a plug in him that morning, he’d also made John wear a tight thong that dug it in deeper, dug between his asscheeks, and rubbed against his dick. John needed release now.

Paul helped him out of his jacket, then took off John’s tie. “Open up, darling.”

Obediently, John opened his mouth and allowed Paul to gag him with the colourful tie.

“Can’t have anybody hearing your moans, can we?” Paul asked as he tied the knot.

John shook his head in response.

Paul stepped away, “Now finish undressing, leave the panties on.”

John reddened as he took off his shirt, shoes, and trousers, ending up bare except for the black lacy underwear. He stood straight as Paul walked around him in circles, unzipping his own dress pants.

A hand came to rest on his ass and slapped it gently, “Aren’t you a delight?” Paul whispered in his ear, “I could eat you right up. In fact, I think I will.”

John shivered as he heard Paul get on his knees behind him and take ahold of the paties, which he pulled off slowly and let pool at the end of John’s legs. The older man whined as the feeling of the plug moving slowly up and down inside him, Paul moving it with his deft fingers; he whimpered as it was removed.

Paul licked his lips as he stared up at John’s gaping hole, the man still wet from that morning and well stretched. His first lick was tentative but soon he was shoving his tongue right in there, tasting himself in John.

John’s legs were shaking and his toes were curled. He knew he couldn’t touch himself or his daddy would be very upset, so his hands were up clutching at his shoulders. He bounced on his feet as he felt Paul’s experienced tongue lapping away at his hole.

Paul’s hands were tight on John’s hips, keeping him still for him. After one final suck, he stepped away and stood up. Turning John around, he said, “I love you, y’know that?”

John nodded with half lidded eyes.

“Do you love me?” Paul asked with a gentle smile, completely contrasting the situation they were in.

His lover nodded again, wishing he could speak and reassure Paul of this fact.

But Paul didn’t need him to, he just smiled and pressed a kiss to John’s forehead. “Lay down, then.” He said.

John did as told, spreading his legs and arms wide. The floor was cold but he knew that he’d be hot soon enough.

Paul stared down at him with lust filled eyes, licking his lips in anticipation. Finally, he kneeled down between John’s opened legs and started to pull down his trousers and pants in one go. He kicked them aside with little care and pumped his dick, eager to get inside John.

His lover was resisting the urge to touch himself, clenching his fists by his sides to keep them still and whining under the gag.

Laughing, Paul moved so he was more on top of John and looked him right in the eyes. “I love those little sounds you make, darlin’.” He said, “If only I didn’t have to keep you gagged…” He shrugged, there were others in the building and the last thing they needed was a scandal about two Beatles fucking in the studio.

John answered him with a muffled mewl and a thrust of his hips upwards.

Paul smacked his ass, “Naughty boy.” He said, “Maybe I ought to shove the plug back in, add a cock ring, and refuse you release until the morning.” He would never actually do that, but it was fun to see John’s eyes widen in fear. “No? That’s what I thought.” He sighed down his lover and started caressing a nipple, pinching and dragging it.

John whimpered, trying his best not to move and upset his daddy again. He could feel his hole clenching, needing something inside.

Deciding John had been tortured long enough, Paul raised the other’s knees and angled himself. He groaned as he entered him, meeting almost no resistance from the well prepared body beneath him.

John bit down on the tie, huffing out little whimpers that reminded him of one of Paul’s dogs.

Paul put his hands over John’s wrists to keep them in place, not wanting his lover to touch himself. He started to move his hips, slowly at first, slipping in and out of John with practiced ease.

Cock bouncing, John was pushing back into his lover, eyes shut tight and back sweating.

“If the others could see you now, Johnny. What would they think?” Paul’s pace was growing faster. “See you taking in my hard cock so easily, so used to being fucked up the ass.” The pace was brutal now, lust completely overtaking Paul.

John moaned at his words even as he blushed.

Paul bent down to bite and suck at John’s neck. “I should keep you tied to my bed, plugged all day so we never have to waste time preparing you. Would you like that, Johnny? You’d be my toy, my pretty slut.”

His answer was a scream of pleasure as he slammed into his lover, barely even muffled. John loved to be called all sorts of names in bed, the humiliation doing things for his sex drive. He nodded along to all of John’s words.

Paul wasn’t even thinking anymore, he was too wrapped up in slamming his cock in and out of John. He’d wrapped his lips around a nipple, sucking and biting at it.

John felt tears start to fall from his eyes at the utter pleasure Paul was giving him. Being horny for an entire day of work had definitely been worth it.

Paul’s hold on John’s wrist loosened and instead he brought them to a hickey littered neck, raising John’s head and bringing it to his neck, holding him tight as he fucked him.

John was shrieking in ecstasy now, the new position allowing Paul to better slam into him. He felt his climax nearing and brought his hands to grip at Paul’s hair.

His lover brought a hand down and grabbed John’s manhood, twisting and pumping with expert hands. Soon, he felt his lover go still and spill into his hand, a muffled shout escaping his lips.

Knowing he was close, Paul pulled out of John and reached to pull out the gag. He grabbed John by the neck and moved him down.

No words were necessary for John to know what Paul needed. He put his dry mouth around Paul’s leaking cock and was soon met with his daddy’s seed. Like a good boy, he swallowed every drop and licked him clean afterwards.

Paul moaned as he came, caressing the other’s neck. “That’s a good boy, Johnny.”

Once he was done, John pulled away and knelt on the floor, curious if the scene was over or not. He, for one, was too exhausted to have another round.

“Come ‘ere.” Came Paul’s whisper, he’d opened his arm and was gesturing at John to join him.

Gladly, John wrapped himself around Paul, head buried in his neck. “I love you.”

Paul smiled with eye closed and held John closer, “And I love you.”

#mclennon #my fic #john lennon #paul mccartney #slash #ao3 #beatlesslash #fanfic #fanfiction

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mythicallore · 6 years ago

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The Zanfretta Abductions

Here we have a strange case out of Italy of what may very well be the first recorded encounter with what people commonly refer to as “reptilian” aliens. (If not the first, then the most widely known at the time)

It all started one night in 1978 at the village of Torriglia. Pier Zanfretta was simply making the rounds on his security route when he made to the currently empty home of one of his clients. All of a sudden the lights and engine of his car died. As he was looking around he noticed lights coming from the house and assumed that the home was being burgled. So Zanfretta, with gun and flashlight in hand, decided to sneak around to try and surprise the criminals. However, it was him that would be surprised that night and the shock would change his life forever.

Something touched him on the shoulder and he spun around to meet “An enormous green, ugly and frightful creature, with undulating skin..as though he were very fat or dressed in a loose gray tunic…” Was his original description of the creatures. He would go on to describe them as having large yellow triangles for eyes and points on either side of their faces. He sprinted away and as he made it back to his car, a massive UFO rose up from behind the house. It began to glow and blasted him with a wave of heat before it disappeared completely.

Zanfretta radioed his dispatcher for help. He was rambling and in shock when the found him, saying of his attackers “No, they aren’t men, they aren’t men…my God are they ugly.” He brandished his gun at his comrades, he seemed to not know them and they were forced to knock him to the ground. They were shocked to find how warm his clothes were since it was so cold and icy out.

The Italian Military police were sent out to the area that night after Zanfretta was rescued. The found huge prints possibly created by the UFO’s landing gear that was 9 feet in diameter and horseshoe-shaped. A staggering 52 citizens reported seeing the large UFO around the area of the home at the same time Zanfretta claimed to have seen it.

During the course of the investigation, Zanfretta’s credibility was further increased by a number of people who came forward in defense of his character. A member of the press found it hard to believe a family man, with a stable career and obvious hate for his newfound fame, would willingly make up a story that could cost him so much. However public opinion was against him, he would go on to say to a reporter named Di Stefano “People call me on the phone at all hours to play jokes on me. I don’t know what it was that I saw, but I saw it. I am not a liar…if I could have, I wouldn’t have reported my experiences, now that I see the consequences.” Those words echo modern-day sentiments from many abductees. They often lament talking about what happened to them because of the backlash they received from not only strangers but their own family at times.

So in an attempt to shed some light on what happened, On December 23rd Zanfretta agreed to be hypnotized. Dr. Mauro Moretti, a member of the Italian Association for Medical Hypnosis put him under. Under hypnosis, Zanfretta revealed that the aliens had also abducted him and had taken him to a strange hot room filled with light. There they communicated with him through a glowing device. He found that the strange mouthpieces they wore allowed them to breathe while on earth and that they were from a planet called “Teetonia” somewhere in the “Third galaxy”. The interrogation lasted some time and the creatures revealed that they wanted to speak more and would soon arrive in greater numbers.

Three days after his session with Dr. Moretti, Zanfretta claimed to have been abducted again. This time he said that his car was overtaken and controlled remotely. He was driven through a tunnel before a bright white light flooded the car. His dispatch claimed that he called in at the time in a very controlled voice saying “The car has stopped. I saw a bright light. Now I am getting out.” Hours later he was found by two other guards out in a field by his car in a heavy rain. Zanfretta was weeping, crying out “They say I must leave with them. What about my children? I don’t want to…I don’t want to.” The military police were called and found to their confusion that Zanfretta’s clothes were completely dry despite the rain and that the roof of his car was “as hot as an oven.” Shocking them as well was the 20-inch boot prints that surrounded the car.

A full report was filed on January 3, 1979, and labeled “Report on the Sighting of Unidentified Flying Objects by Fortunato Zanfretta.” The military police later went on to say that the reliability of these events actually occurring was “good”. After this Zanfretta began to receive even more attention and scrutiny. He was examined by neurologist Dr. Giorgio Gianniotti who found that “…The man is in a state of shock, but he is perfectly sane.” This, however, did little to stop the harassment so he once again agreed to undergo hypnosis but this time he allowed it to be televised.

In this session, Zanfretta claimed that the device they used to speak with him was a glowing helmet and it caused him a great deal of pain. They took his gun and fired it, some would speculate in an effort to see if human weaponry could hurt them. They expressed an interest in taking him with them to which he responded with “I know that you need me, but I don’t want to. I like to be alone. I have two children. I feel good this way…and after all, you are not human beings. You are horrible.” Hundreds watched but the scrutiny only increased further. Eventually, things died down, until he was abducted yet again.

Zanfretta and his motorcycle were found on the summit of Mount Fasce. None of the locals had seen him drive up the only road that led to the top. This time Zanretta insisted that he be given sodium penathol, the “truth serum”. Under it, he claimed that he had been picked up by a green light. The doctor who administered the drug confirmed to the press “No human being can knowingly lie while he is under treatment, so I think it’s very probable Zanfretta had these encounters.” (It was not known at the time just how malleable a person’s perception becomes while under sodium penathol, even allowing for the implantation of false memories. One of the reasons it is no longer used as a truth serum.”)

His forth abduction was not an encounter he would have alone. After he disappeared in December of 1979, four members of his security company were sent to find him. They found instead a strange glowing “cloud” which shot out two beams of light at their cars, killing the engines. One of them shot at the UFO, which then went dark and faded out of sight. The encounter proved too much for another, who later ended his own life with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Now for some crazy stuff.

As if it weren’t off the wall enough. Zanfretta says that while filling up his car with gas after the last encounter a strange man came up to him. The mansupposedly was bald with an egg-shaped head and wearing a checkered suit with a chest-plate made of steel. The man’s voice compelled him to follow and he was shown a ship filled with strange beings in jars. Some “frog-shaped” others more birdlike or even similar to a “caveman”. The being tried to give him a sphere that would humanity to know who they were and how they lived. He was instructed to give the gift to Dr. J. Allen Hynek in America, who as a premier UFO researcher at the time. Zanfretta did not do this however and instead claimed to have buried the object somewhere.

His last hypnosis session with Dr. Moretti was the oddest session of all. He made strange sounds, spoke in an unknown language and said things like “Question with negative answer, tixel…you can’t work out anything in a case like this. To believe or not to believe doesn’t mean anything: each thing in its own time.”

That was the last encounter Zanfretta would have with the beings but his description of the man in the checkered suit echoes a being encountered by others. In November of 1966, in West Virginia, A Woodrow Derenberger had an encounter with a strange vehicle pouring flames from both ends and shaped like a lamp. A smiling man stepped out and spoke to him without moving his lips. Claimed his name was “Indrid Cold.” He was baled with an egg like head and wanted to know more about UFO sightings in the area. The same manwas spotted by two boys behind a fence, where he was dubbed the Grinning Man and was seen in Point Pleasant around the same time as the Mothman sightings.

“Honey, did you order a subscription to the Watchtower?”

I have a theory that this Grinning Man may, in fact, be a Man in Black. Reports of them indicate that they seem shockingly similar. Bald, fancy suits, asking and talking about UFO encounters. Always giving off an otherworldly feel and disappearing as quickly as the arrived.

#paranormal #aliens #abduction #supernatural

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crowleying · 6 years ago

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Bang bang | f!reader

Date: 02.08.2018

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Reader's pronouns: she/her

Words: 1.021

Fandom: The Punisher, Marvel

Genre: Song-fic

Length: Oneshot

Warnings: Crack pairing (kind of), maybe a little angst, the gif isn’t mine, I have no Idea of what I’m doing

A/N: So, this is my first one-shot in a very long time, the first one in English, the first one on Tumblr, the first one about Billy Russo, the first Billy Russo x Reader, and also my first song-fic. I haven’t been writing for too much time so I’m quite out of exercise and I didn’t use to write in English, since it isn’t my first language. So this is probably horrible. The other day I was listening to a song and it inspired me as well as reading all those wonderful fan fictions about Billy here on Tumblr. The song is Bang bang (1966), written by Sonny Bono and sang by Cher. This song had such a great success that many covers of it were made. Among those there are many by Italian singers and bands who translated it in Italian. There are different Italian translations of the same song. My favourite is the one sang by Ornella Vanoni. So here it is. Since I love also the original lyrics, I decided to mix those two versions together in this fic.

This is about Billy and I wrote it thinking about this character but re-reading it I noticed it would suit Logan too.

I would love to know what do you think about it and please tell me if there is any mistake. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

IF YOU LIKE MY WORKS, PLEASE REBLOG THEM

Masterlist

Ao3

[ID: a gif of Billy, laying on his bed in a military tent, smiling. End ID.]

I was five and he was six

We rode on horses made of sticks

He wore black and I wore white

He would always win the fight

Avevamo cinque anni,

correvamo sui cavalli

io e lui contro agli indiani,

eravamo due cowboy

The park was full of children running and playing around that afternoon as well as any other afternoon after school. Their laughter echoing through the air. You were running around riding your horse made of stick in your plain white dress following Billy. He was wearing black and the cowboy hat your father gave him for his sixth birthday. He was riding against the Indians leading you. You two were the cowboys and you always won the fight against them thanks to Billy who was a great strategist and was always able to find all of them. That time wasn’t different.

An hour or so later almost everyone was leaving because they had homework to do. You had begged your mom to let you stay a little longer to play with Billy. She was never able to say no when he was involved. It seemed like she had take it like her personal mission to make him the happiest she could. So you stayed longer and played with Billy. There were no Indians to fight now so you fought each other. Billy’s forefinger and middle finger where pointed against you mimicking a gun when he pulled the trigger aiming right at your heart. You fell from your wooden horse and into the ground. All you could see were the foliages of the trees surrounding you but the only thing you could think about was Billy.

Seasons came and changed the time

When I grew up, I called him mine

He would always laugh and say

"Remember when we used to play?"

Non si può fermare il tempo,

non si può mutare il vento

quindici anni aveva lui,

ricordo quando mi baciò

Nobody can stop the time. It runs fast and before you knew, you and Billy where in high schools remembering about the good old times playing in the park. You two had grown closer during the years, if it was even possible. You called him yours and laughing he would always ask you if you remembered when you two used to play. How could you forget? You couldn’t forget anything about Billy Russo or involving him. You could never forget his deep eyes, black as everything else on him starting with his hair and ending with his clothes. As he liked to say, even his soul was black, but you knew better.

You couldn’t even forget how he shot you that day in the park. The only thing you didn’t need to try to forget was the taste of his rosy lips because you had never had that.

Then, one night, the two of you were hanging out and he took you home. It wasn’t safe for a girl to go around at night all by herself he kept reminding you. You didn’t mind at all, it was just another excuse to spend more time with him, as if you needed one for it. You were in front of your house when it happened. You were going to kiss his cheek but he kissed you on the lips for what it seemed eternity and not even a second. Then he pulled back and left you on your porch with nothing more than a «goodnight». You watched him leaving until you couldn’t see him anymore. After that night you couldn’t forget the taste of his lips as well as the rest of him. It was like if he had shot you again.

Now he's gone, I don't know why

And 'till this day, sometimes I cry

He didn't even say goodbye

He didn't take the time to lie

A vent'anni all'improvviso,

senza dir perché né dove

se ne è andato, lui mi ha ucciso

come fosse un colpo al cuore

You grew up together, you never left each other’s side, nobody was ever able to come between you, not his many foster families, nor anyone else. You always stayed together, no matter what. You never thought about it as a possibility. You never thought of it because you didn’t even know how it was to live without Billy Russo. He had always been there for you and you for him. Not even once you thought he could leave, not like that anyway, not without telling you, without explaining and telling you where to find him or that he would be back soon.

That day you went to the shop where he worked. The old lady who owned the place knew you, you went there every day when Billy had his break to spend time together. She greeted you nicely as always and you smiled. You didn’t see Billy behind the counter which was strange, but maybe he had gone to the toilet.

«Where is Billy?» you asked.

«He is gone» she said before adding surprised «he didn’t tell you?»

Your brain was still on the first sentence. It took you a while to answer her question. You slowly shook your head. You didn’t understand.

Fighting the tears that were about to wet your cheeks you asked «how... gone? He didn’t said where did he go?»

She shrugged. «He left his morning saying he wouldn’t come back. He didn’t say anything else, just to tell you he loves you» she said looking worriedly at you. You were now crying without even realizing it.

«Are you okay?» she asked carefully. You shook your head and turn on your heels. For a moment it seemed like you could see him leaving the shop that morning, but it was only a moment, then you run outside. You didn’t even know where your feet were taking you. You only realized when you arrived at the park, in that same spot where he shot you all those years ago. You laid down just as you did that time. You were crying. He had shot you again and he had left you there, bleeding and crying.

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blackkudos · 7 years ago

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Benjamin Hooks

Benjamin Lawson Hooks (January 31, 1925 – April 15, 2010) was an American civil rights leader. A Baptist minister and practicing attorney, he served as executive director of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) from 1977 to 1992, and throughout his career was a vocal campaigner for civil rights in the United States.

Early life

Benjamin Hooks was born in Memphis, Tennessee. Growing up on South Lauderdale and Vance, he was the fifth son of Robert B & Bessie White Hooks. He had 6 other siblings. His father was a photographer and owned a photography studio with his brother Henry, known at the time as Hooks Brothers, and the family was fairly comfortable by the standards of black people for the day. Still, he recalls that he had to wear hand-me-down clothes and that his mother had to be careful to make the dollars stretch to feed and care for the family.

Young Benjamin’s paternal grandmother, Julia Britton Hooks (1852–1942), graduated from Berea College in Kentucky in 1874 and was only the second American black woman to graduate from college. She was a musical prodigy. She began playing piano publicly at age five and at age 18, joined Berea’s faculty, teaching instrumental music 1870–72. Her sister, Dr. Mary E. Britton, also attended Berea, and became a physician in Lexington, Kentucky.

With such a family legacy, young Benjamin was inspired to work hard on his academic career, with hopes of being able to make it to college. In his youth, he felt a calling to the Christian ministry. His father, however, did not approve and discouraged Benjamin from such a calling.

Benjamin was a member of the Omega Psi Phi fraternity. And quite a man, he was.

Education

Hooks enrolled in LeMoyne-Owen College, in Memphis, Tennessee. There he undertook a pre-law course of study 1941–43. In his college years he became more acutely aware that he was one of a large number of Americans who were required to use segregated lunch counters, water fountains, and restrooms. "I wish I could tell you every time I was on the highway and couldn’t use a restroom," he would later recall. "My bladder is messed up because of that. Stomach is messed up from eating cold sandwiches."

After graduating in 1944 from Howard University, he joined the Army and had the job of guarding Italian prisoners of war. He found it humiliating that the prisoners were allowed to eat in restaurants from which he was barred. He was discharged from the Army after the end of the war with the rank of staff sergeant.

After the war he enrolled at the DePaul University College of Law in Chicago to study law. No law school in his native Tennessee would admit him. He graduated from DePaul in 1948 with his Juris Doctor (J.D.) degree.

Legal career

Upon graduation Hooks immediately returned to his native Memphis. By this time he was thoroughly committed to breaking down the practices of racial segregation that existed in the United States. Fighting prejudice at every turn, he passed the Tennessee bar exam and set up his own law practice. "At that time you were insulted by law clerks, excluded from white bar associations and when I was in court, I was lucky to be called Ben," he recalled in an interview with Jet magazine. "Usually it was just ‘boy.’ [But] the judges were always fair. The discrimination of those days has changed and, today, the South is ahead of the North in many respects in civil rights progress."

By 1949 Hooks had earned a local reputation as one of the few black lawyers in Memphis. At the Shelby County fair, he met a 24-year-old science teacher by the name of Frances Dancy. They began to date, and soon became inseparable. They were married in Memphis in 1952. Mrs. Hooks recalled in Ebony magazine that her husband was "good looking, very quiet, very intelligent." She added: "He loved to go around to churches and that type of thing, so I started going with him. He was really a good catch."

Hooks was a friend and associate of Dr. T.R.M. Howard, the head of the Regional Council of Negro Leadership (RCNL), a leading civil rights organization in Mississippi. Hooks attended the RCNL's annual conferences in the all-black town of Mound Bayou, Mississippi which often drew crowds of ten thousand or more. In 1954, only days before the U.S. Supreme Court handed down Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, he appeared on an RCNL-sponsored roundtable, along with Thurgood Marshall, and other black Southern attorneys to formulate possible litigation strategies.

Other endeavors

Hooks still felt the calling to the Christian ministry that he had felt in his youth. He was ordained as a Baptist minister in 1956 and began to preach regularly at the Greater Middle Baptist Church in Memphis, while continuing his busy law practice. He joined the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (then known as Southern Negro Leaders Conference on Transportation and Nonviolent Integration) along with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He also became a pioneer in the NAACP-sponsored restaurant sit-ins and other boycotts of consumer items and services.

In addition to his other roles, he decided to enter Tennessee state politics and ran unsuccessfully for the state legislature in 1954 and for juvenile court judge in 1959 and 1963. Despite his losses, the personable young lawyer and preacher attracted not only black voters but liberal whites as well. By 1965 he was well enough known that Tennessee Governor Frank G. Clement appointed him to fill a vacancy in the Shelby County criminal court. With this he became the first black criminal court judge in Tennessee history. His temporary appointment to the bench expired in 1966 but he campaigned for, and won election to a full term in the same judicial office.

By the late 1960s Hooks was a judge, a businessman, a lawyer, and a minister, but he continued to do more. Twice a month he flew to Detroit to preach at the Greater New Mount Moriah Baptist Church. He also continued to work with the NAACP in civil rights protests and marches. Fortunately for Hooks, his wife Frances matched him in energy and stamina. She became her husband’s assistant, secretary, advisor, and traveling companion, even though it meant sacrificing her own career. "He said he needed me to help him", she told Ebony. "Few husbands tell their wives that they need them after 30 years of marriage, so I gave it up and here I am, right by his side."

Hooks had been a producer and host of several local television shows in Memphis in addition to his other duties and was a strong supporter of Republican political candidates. In 1972, President Richard Nixon appointed Hooks to be one of the five commissioners of the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). The Senate confirmed the nomination, and Benjamin and Frances Hooks moved to Washington, D.C. in 1973. As a member of the FCC, Hooks addressed the lack of minority ownership of television and radio stations, the minority employment statistics for the broadcasting industry, and the image of blacks in the mass media. Hooks completed his five-year term on the board of commissioners in 1978, but he continued to work for black involvement in the entertainment industry.

The NAACP

On November 6, 1976, the 64-member board of directors of the NAACP elected Hooks executive director of the organization. In the late 1970s the membership had declined from a high of about 500,000 to only about 200,000. Hooks was determined to add to the enrollment and to raise money for the organization’s severely depleted treasury, without changing the NAACP’s goals or mandates. "Black Americans are not defeated," he told Ebony soon after his formal induction in 1977. "The civil rights movement is not dead. If anyone thinks that we are going to stop agitating, they had better think again. If anyone thinks that we are going to stop litigating, they had better close the courts. If anyone thinks that we are not going to demonstrate and protest, they had better roll up the sidewalks."

In his early years at the NAACP, Hooks had some bitter arguments with Margaret Bush Wilson, chairwoman of the NAACP’s board of directors. At one point in 1983, Wilson summarily suspended Hooks after a quarrel over the organization’s policy. Wilson accused Hooks of mismanagement but the charges were never proven. A majority of the board backed Hooks and he never officially left his post In 1980, Hooks explained why the NAACP was against using violence to obtain civil rights:

There are a lot of ways an oppressed people can rise. One way to rise is to study, to be smarter than your oppressor. The concept of rising against oppression through physical contact is stupid and self-defeating. It exalts brawn over brain. And the most enduring contributions made to civilization have not been made by brawn, they have been made by brain.

Views on equality

Early in 1990 Hooks and his family were among the targets in a wave of bombings against civil rights leaders. Hooks visited President George H. W. Bush in the White House to discuss the escalating tensions between races. He emerged from that meeting with the government’s full support against racially motivated bomb attacks, but he was very critical of the administration’s apparent lack of action concerning inner city poverty and lack of support for public education.

On the other hand, Hooks would not lay all the blame for America’s ills at the feet of its elected officials. He has been a staunch advocate of self-help among the black community, urging wealthy and middle-class blacks to give time and resources to those less fortunate. "It’s time today... to bring it out of the closet: No longer can we proffer polite, explicable, reasons why Black America cannot do more for itself," he told the 1990 NAACP convention delegates. "I’m calling for a moratorium on excuses. I challenge black America today—all of us—to set aside our alibis."

By 1991 some younger members of the NAACP thought that Hooks had lost touch with black America and ought to resign. One newspaper wrote: "Critics say the organization is a dinosaur whose national leadership is still living in the glory days of the civil rights movement." Dr. Frederick Zak, a young local NAACP president, was quoted as saying, "There is a tendency by some of the older people to romanticize the struggle—especially the marching and the picketing and the boycotting and the going to jail."

Hooks feels that the perilous times of the civil rights movement should never be taken for granted, especially by those who were born in the aftermath of the movement’s gains. "A young black man can’t understand what it means to have something he’s never been denied,’ Hooks told U.S. News & World Report. "I can’t make them understand the mental relief I feel at the rights we have. It almost infuriates me that people don’t understand what integration has done for this country."

Retirement

Hooks and his wife handled the NAACP’s business and helped to plan for its future for more than 15 years. He told the New York Times that a "sense of duty and responsibility" to the NAACP compelled him to stay in office through the 1990s, but eventually the demands of the executive director position proved too great for a man of his age. In February 1992, at the age of 67, he announced his resignation from the post, calling it "a killing job," according to the Detroit Free Press. Hooks stated that he would serve out the 1992 year and predicted that a change in leadership would not jeopardize the NAACP’s stability: "We’ve been through some little stormy periods before. I think we’ll overcome it."

Hooks served as a distinguished adjunct professor for the Political Science department of the University of Memphis. In 1996, the Benjamin L. Hooks Institute for Social Change was established at the University of Memphis. The Hooks Institute is a public policy research center supporting the urban research mission of the University of Memphis, and honoring Hooks’ many years of leadership in the American Civil Rights Movement. The Institute works to advance understanding of the legacy of the American Civil Rights Movement – and of other movements for social justice – through teaching, research and community programs that emphasize social movements, race relations, strong communities, public education, effective public participation, and social and economic justice.

Hooks also resumed preaching at the Greater Middle Baptist Church in Memphis where he had begun preaching in 1956.

On March 24, 2001, Benjamin Hooks and Frances Hooks renewed their wedding vows for the third time, after nearly 50 years of marriage. The ceremony was held in the Greater Middle Baptist Church in Memphis . Hooks died on April 15, 2010 at 85 years old. His funeral was held at Temple of Deliverance Church of God in Christ on April 21, 2010.

Professional memberships

American Bar Association

National Bar Association

Tennessee Bar Association

Southern Christian Leadership Conference

Tennessee Council on Human Relations

Honors and awards

Hooks was awarded the Spingarn Medal from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, 1986.

In 1988, Hooks received an honorary doctorate at Central Connecticut State University.

NAACP created the Benjamin L. Hooks Distinguished Service Award, which is awarded to persons for efforts in implementing policies and programs which promote equal opportunity.

University of Memphis created the Benjamin L. Hooks Institute for Social Change. The Hooks Institute is committed to bringing scholars together to advance the goals of the civil rights movement, to promote human rights and democratic government worldwide, and to honor the lifetime of work of Hooks.

Hooks received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President George W. Bush in November 2007.

Was inducted in the International Civil Rights Walk of Fame at the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historic Site on January 12, 2008

The Memphis Public Library's main branch is named in his honor.

The University of Memphis Cecil C. Humphreys School of Law Alumni Chapter honored Hooks as a 2007 Pillar of Excellence.

Wikipedia

#Benjamin Hooks

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 4 years ago

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No Stones Unturned: Mick Jagger

Sir Michael Jagger was born in Dartford, England to a middle-class family. Both his father and grandfather were teachers, while his mother of Australian descent was a hairdresser. Both his parents had hoped he would follow in his father’s footsteps becoming a teacher, but Jagger has stated that he had always wanted to be a singer from a young age. "I always sang as a child. I was one of those kids who just liked to sing. Some kids sing in choirs; others like to show off in front of the mirror. I was in the church choir and I also loved listening to singers on the radio–the BBC or Radio Luxembourg–or watching them on TV and in the movies." Until 1954, he lived next to and went to school with Keith Richards. The artist that led Jager to rhythm and blues was in fact the flamboyant singer, Little Richard. In 1961, Jagger left school after testing out of seven O levels and two A levels. He moved in with Keith Richards and Brian Jones in an apartment on Edith Grove in London. Richards and Jones had planned to start a rhythm and blues group called Blues Incorporated, while Jagger attended the London School of Economics as an undergraduate student. A common misconception is that they all met on that first day, then the Rolling Stones started. It happened as more of a gradual process. For his part, Jagger began to jam with Jones and Richards, which eventually led to the formation of the Rolling Stones. Yet, this emerged as a process because Jagger still kept one foot within the academic world.

From the beginning of the band, they would often perform for no money. Their first gigs were playing the intermission between sets for musician Alexis Corner. Their first live performance officially as the Rolling Stones was at the Marquee Club in July 1962. Jager officially left school by the autumn of 1963 in order to pursue music full-time. Another misconception was that the collaboration between him and Keith Richards took shape from the very beginning. Once again, this was a gradual process that took a bit of time to develop. Their first hit song was a blues cover, “Little Red Rooster.” Their first Rolling Stones original hit, “The Last Time”in 1965 took a lot of inspiration from the Staples Singers song, “This May Be the Last Time.” They did not really hit their stride until the song “Satisfaction”was released, which also emphasized an image of rebellion. The singer would say this in 1992 in an interview in Vanity Fair. “I wasn't trying to be rebellious in those days; I was just being me. I wasn't trying to push the edge of anything. I'm being me and ordinary, the guy from suburbia who sings in this band, but someone older might have thought it was just the most awful racket, the most terrible thing, and where are we going if this is music?... But all those songs we sang were pretty tame, really. People didn't think they were, but I thought they were tame."

In the 1970’s, Jagger changed his look, but more importantly his music as well. By the time of Sticky Fingers, he had learned to play guitar with contributions even on that album. On subsequent albums, the singer contributed guitar parts on every release with the notable exception of Dirty Work in 1986. By the 1972 tour for Exile on Main Street, Jagger had fully embraced the glam rock style that would define him for the rest of the decade. He would even admit himself this embrace of an androgynous look in an interview years later. The singer would often perform live wearing glitter and eyeliner. By the time of that album, Jagger had also taken over business decisions for the band in conjunction with his personal investment manager Prince Rupert Loewenstein. This partnership still exists to this day. Some have said that financially he helped to save the band because management had been robbing them blind since the beginning. In a 1994 60 Minutes story, a promoter for the Voodoo Lounge tour noted how unique it was to have a lead singer so plugged into the business side of things.

In the mid-1980’s, Jagger decided that it was time for him to record a solo album. This decision would almost lead to the end of the Rolling Stones. He would say in Rolling Stone magazine, there was a need to establish an artistic identity outside of the band. Keith Richards felt the complete opposite in that anything musically should be directed towards the Rolling Stones. In 1985, he would release his first solo album, She’s the Boss, which actually sold pretty well. Two years later in 1987 the singer released a second solo album entitled, Primitive Cool, which emerged as a modest success. Sandwiched between that was the release of a 1986 Rolling Stones album, Dirty Work. At the time of recording that album, Jagger and Richards could not even be in the same room together. The only reason that album even exists is probably because Ron Wood acted as peacemaker between the two during the recording sessions. To make matters worse, Jagger refused to tour after the completion of the 1986 album, but instead wanted to tour his solo material instead. This decision put the future of the band very much up in the air. The other band members went ahead and worked on their own side projects as well. The irony came in that Jagger was the only one who did not really grow from the experience of going solo when the band reunited for Steel Wheels.

Jagger has also starred in some well-known films throughout his career. His debut took place in the film Performance, which also starred Keith Richards girlfriend. Jagger portrayed an aging rockstar recluse in the film that has gone on to achieve almost a cult film status today. His next film took place with the film, Ned Kelly, where he portrayed the infamous Australian outlaw. The singer seemed very selective in the roles that he chose as they seem to take on a feel of art house. He did audition for the role in Rocky Horror Picture Show, but Tim Curry was eventually chosen for that film. Jagger also had planned to star in an adaptation of the book Dune, but the movie never went into production. Ironically, the film would be made in the 1980’s, but starring former lead singer of the Police, Sting. In more recent film roles, he has tended to play more of a bad guy as seen in 1992’s Freejack. In 1995, the singer even started a film company that released a 2008 remake of George Cukor’s The Women. The film did very poorly at the box office and critically panned by everyone with the possible exception of Roger Ebert.

Mick Jagger has been married once and been in several other relationships with women over the years. From 1966 to 1970, he was with singer Marianne Faithfull. A year later he was married to Nicaraguan model, Bianca Perez Mora Macias. They were divorced in 1978 on the grounds of adultery. He would reportedly have an affair from 1974 to 1976 with Bebe Buell, but they both have denied that this ever occurred. In 1977, Jagger began dating Jerry Hall, who had four children together. Another positive aspect of this relationship emerged in that Hall got the singer to give up heroin. Next up was Carla Bruni, who the singer had an affair with from 1991 to 1994. She would go on to marry the future president of France becoming that country’s first lady for a time. His relationship with Hall ended after yet another affair. A court in England ruled that their marriage was not legally binding when she sued for divorce. From 2001 to 2014, the Jagger was in a relationship with L’Wren Scott until she committed suicide in 2014. In her will, she left her entire $9 million estate to Jagger. Finally, ballet dancer Melanie Hamrick, who had his child in 2016 when he was 73.

Mick Jagger has left an indelible mark on pop-culture outside of the Rolling Stones. In 1975, Andy Warhol painted his likeness, which ended up on the wall of the palace of the Shah of Iran. His wife had purchased the painting. The band Maroon 5 had a hit song entitled “Moves Like Jagger” a few years ago. One thing he said about the song was unfortunately he didn’t hear receive royalties from it. In the film, Almost Famous, his name is mentioned when the character played by Jimmy Fallon asked the question, do you think make Mick Jagger is going to be going up on stage when he’s 50? In 1973, Carly Simon wrote the song “You’re So Vain,” but she has never revealed what guy the song is actually about. Some have speculated that the song is indeed referring to Jagger. This does seem unlikely since he did background vocals on the track. Don McLean created the iconic song “American Pie” with references to many of the musicians of the 1960s including Jagger. In the lyrics, McLean sings about Satan, which many believe is a reference to the singer. In 1967, a photographer took a picture of Jager‘s naked buttocks with the original going up for auction in 1986. The image sold for $4000.

For his part, Mick Jagger will go down as quite simply one of the most influential lead singers in the history of rock and roll. David Bowie once said that he dreamed as a boy about becoming the next Mick Jagger. Universities have had classes where they study the movement of Jagger as it relates to power, sexuality, and gender. They argue about how much the singer is really acting on stage, and whether he actually means everything that he sings about in his songs. Another aspect of his legacy emerges in his longevity. He has done it longer than anyone else in the history of music. A few years ago Jon Bon Jovi commented on this, where he was simply astounded at how much running and jumping around an older man does on stage. He wondered if there was any way that he could do that at the same age.

In 1980, Mick Jagger was persuaded to write an autobiography. The reason being came in that there were quite a few unauthorized biographies of him already out there. He wanted to set the record straight and went ahead in producing a 75,000 word book. Yet, at the last minute, the singer decided to completely shelve the manuscript. There is only one copy of it in existence, which belongs to the person that persuaded him to write it, Lord Weidenfield. There is no word yet as to whether this work will see the light of day upon his passing. In my personal opinion, I am not sure that it would be a worthwhile read since the book would only include the first 15 years of the Rolling Stones. He had not even begun to feud with Keith Richards at that time.

Jagger in his limited free time loves sports. He is a diehard fan of both soccer and cricket. The Rolling Stone regularly follows the English national soccer team, and will travel to see them play in the World Cup, if they qualify. Jagger also started an Internet site that follows and announces cricket games, Jagger Internetworks. His politics have also changed quite a bit over the years. In the beginning, he was very liberal writing songs about revolution and protest like “Street Fighting Man.” Yet, nowadays Jagger is a strong proponent of the conservative party in England. For a long time, he remained a large supporter of Margaret Thatcher. Finally, the singer has participated in a great amount of philanthropy in England towards music education and local schools. He started a Mick Jagger Center at his former school in Dartford, England. Another thing he started was the Little Red Rooster music program, which is featured in schools throughout the country.

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hutchhitched · 7 years ago

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The Vintage Joshifer Series: End of Love—Chapter 13

End of Love by hutchhitched

Author’s note: Thank you to all of you who welcomed this story back after its hiatus. This is pretty much the halfway point of the story, and Josh and Jen are finding their way back to each other in the midst of the upheaval of the 1960s. Historical references include the following:

The Detroit race riots were discussed in the previous chapter, while Trumbull Park and South Deering were mentioned in Chapter 3. The Chicago Freedom Summer was the reason Josh left Berkeley in Chapter 11.

The EEOC Jen references is short for the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, which passed in 1964 as part of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. It was intended to provide equal pay for equal work for men and women and protect against gender discrimination. It was only marginally successful because men and women rarely held the same job. During the first full year in existence, the EEOC fielded over 2000 complaints of sexual discrimination. The EEOC still functions as part of the US government today.

The Black Panther Party for Self-Defense was founded in Oakland, California, in 1966 in response to the failure of the Chicago Freedom Movement. It was a leading organization in the growth of Black Power, a movement that rejected peaceful protests as the only method for attaining equal rights. In 1968, SNCC formally merged with the Black Panthers, marking the perceived failure of non-violence to end racial discrimination.

Chicago, Illinois, July 1967

“Jen! In here. Now!” Mr. Murrow, editor in chief of the Chicago Tribune, shouted from his doorway.

Pushing away from her typewriter, Jen rose and walked to his office. The sounds of the newsroom swirled around her, and Mr. Murrow motioned for her to close the door behind her. She perched on the chair facing his desk and waited for her new assignment.

“Jen, I’m going to need you to cover something for me,” he started and gave a quick, insincere smile when she nodded. “This race riot in Detroit. I need someone to cover it.”

Her pulse rate increased slightly, but she tried to maintain a calm façade. “The race riots? What’s the angle for the story? Wait, are you sending me to Detroit?”

“Of course not. You’d be raped and killed within minutes of getting there,” he snapped without any sense of compassion. “No, I’m not sending you to Detroit. That’s why we’ve got the wire. If I was going to send somebody, it wouldn’t be a girl like you.”

Jen pressed her lips together in a tight line and fought to keep her mouth shut. Her editor was an ass. There wasn’t any other way to describe him. She’s regretted moving to Chicago and working for him at the Tribune each day she’d come to work, but she knew she wouldn’t change the decision if she had it to make over again. Chicago was the last place she knew Josh had been, and it was also the best job offer she’d gotten after graduation.

“What’s my assignment, then? I’m sure it’s hard-hitting journalism, as always,” she said wryly.

“Calm your tits, toots. I’m sending you to the South Deering. I need you to interview some colored people and get their reaction to what’s happening in Detroit. Don’t care who it is. Don’t care what they say. Don’t care about anything other than six inches to run below the fold tomorrow morning. Get it done, doll.”

What a pig. I’ve got to get out of this newsroom.

“Mr. Murrow, can I respectfully request that you read up on the EEOC when you get a chance? It’s that thing that protects women from men treating them like a sex object in the office.” She kept her tone light, but she knew he could tell she was serious.

“Sweetheart, I’ll worry about women’s rights when you can bring me a story that’s worth something instead of a feel good piece.”

“Then why don’t you give me an assignment that’s something more than interviewing little old ladies and new moms?” She slammed her hand on the arm of her chair and started at him with the sternest expression she could manage.

Mr. Murrow studied her for several minutes before answering. When he did, it was clearly a dismissal. “Get me something for tomorrow. Find an angle if you want to, but we both know nothing the poor black people in Chicago have to say about race riots in Detroit is going to matter to anyone who reads this paper.”

Jen rose to leave the office and tossed over her shoulder, “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Be sure to wear that skirt when you go down there. You ass looks hot in that one. Feel free to drop something so you can pick it up.”

“I cannot work for this man much longer. What a dick,” Jen muttered as she wound her way back to her desk. She needed to do some research before heading to the ghettos in South Deering Chicago.

She spent the next few hours pulling up several issues from the past year and skimming for stories that mentioned racial tensions, especially in South Deering. She scanned a number of reports about promises to improve housing conditions before freezing. There on the front page of the issue from Friday, June 17, 1966, was a grainy picture of a non-violent demonstration. In the background behind Martin Luther King, Jr., Josh stood arm in arm with his best friend from college, Jackson.

Seeing the image felt like a punch in the gut. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left Berkeley, although she knew he’d tried to contact her several times. She continually questioned why she’d snuck from his bed before he woke the morning after he’d brought her to climax. She flushed when she remembered how naïve she’d been not knowing what a female orgasm actually was during sex and how he’d brought her to it more than once. She missed him, but she had no one to blame but herself. Taking the job in Chicago was the right career move for her, but there was a tiny bit of hope that it would bring her back to him.

She traced his strong jawline and studied his form. He looked fit and galvanized in the picture, and she allowed herself a few moments to remember the feel of his muscled torso and shoulders under her hands. She recalled the way his back muscles had contracted as he’d thrust into her and the way his mouth had caressed her warm skin. More than that, though, she remembered how full he’d made her—how thick and rigid he’d been as she rode him—how his eyes had scrunched closed when he’d ejaculated and called her name.

“Jen! Earth to Jen!” her editor sing-songed as he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “I need you to quit daydreaming and get down there. Quit dilly-dallying.”

Flushing with embarrassment, she shook herself free of the memories of that night with Josh and turned her attention to her job. She jotted down several notes and potential questions to ask those she might interview and headed for the door. She didn’t have much time before the paper went to print.

By the time the cab pulled up to Trumbull Park, a housing development that had been one of the first to allow Negroes to move into South Deering, she felt she might vomit from being so nervous. As she looked around the neighborhood, she realized how out of place she was and how dangerous it had been for her to come alone.

She walked quickly to the local grocery store and wandered the aisles aimlessly. Hoping to come across someone who offered a look that was more friendly than openly hostile, she observed the patrons unobtrusively.

“Jennifer Lawrence? Is that you?” With her heart pounding in her chest, she whipped around and almost wept in relief to see Jackson standing before her. “What the hell are you doing in South Deering? This isn’t exactly your neighborhood.”

“Jackson!” she cried and threw herself into his arms. He enfolded her in a brief hug but grabbed her hand and pulled her from the store to a secluded spot on the side of the building.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know how dangerous this is with all the race riots going on right now? What were you thinking coming here alone?” His eyes raked over her face before he grinned and asked, “What are you even doing in Chicago?”

She grinned at him and blurted, “I live here. I mean, not here. I work at the Tribune, and my editor sent me to do a story on reactions to the Detroit riots. I was trying to figure out who to interview when you found me. How are you? How’ve you been since you graduated? How’s…uh, how’s Josh? Have you seen him lately?”

“Well, that didn’t take long,” he remarked wryly, “although I’m a little surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of your mouth.”

“I’m sorry. I’m thrilled to see you too. It’s just been so long since we—since I saw him. It feels like a lifetime ago when we were all together in California.” She grimaced at the hint of longing that echoed in her words and dropped her eyes to focus on her twisting hands.

He chuckled and reassured her, “It’s fine, Jen. You and Josh have a really special relationship. I wouldn’t expect anything else. Let’s get out of here. We can go to my family’s place.”

He grabbed her hand and walked quickly down the block and to a small, crumbling house about a block away. The porch was tiny, just a few feet wide, and it was crooked to the rest of the house. The front door squeaked on its hinges, and Jen noticed the holes in the screen as she slipped through the door. The inside was miniscule but clean and tidy. It was clear Jackson’s family worked hard to make the home inviting, despite the general disrepair and poverty of the neighborhood. Jackson motioned for her to sit on the ragged, brown plaid couch, and Jen settled into it carefully. Tugging the hem of her miniskirt down, she crossed her ankles and waited for Josh’s best friend to tell her what she wanted to know.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Jen,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone from school—even Josh.” Her heart sank, and she worked hard to school her features so he wouldn’t understand how much it hurt to hear that Josh wasn’t close.

“Where is he?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him since he graduated. He called a few times, but…”

“He’s fine. He was in Cincinnati last month, staying with his family during the riots there. Spent a little while back in California looking for you too. He’s been traveling with other friends, dropping in on protests around the country, and trying to change the world. Nothing much has changed there.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. Josh’d come back to look for her, although she wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t done much else differently since they’d been apart. He’d always wanted to work for rights and justice. She should have known he’d go back for the Summer of Love.

“He misses you.”

“H-how do you know?”

“Because he told me.”

“He talked about me?” she queried while trying to quiet the bubble of hope rising in her gut.

“Only when he was drunk or high, which admittedly was often the first few months after you ran out on him.” She flushed under his accusatory gaze but remained silent. “He got over it after a few months. He’s back to being the ladies man he was at Berkeley.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “No surprise there. He’s been blessed with the Hutcherson charm.”

“I’ll tell him I saw you the next time he checks in. He calls about twice a month, so it won’t be long.”

She nodded, touched by the gentleness in his voice. “Thanks. Any chance you’d let me interview you for my story? My editor is giving me free reign, and since I ran into you, I’d kind of like to give it a personal touch. It’d be nice to get real answers, and you could be honest with me.”

“I can?” At her chagrined expression, he softened and inquired, “What’s the story?”

“Colored’s response to the Detroit riots.”

“How about a black man’s response to racial unrest in the Motor City?” His voice hardened with the question, and she pulled her notebook from her purse to jot down notes.

“Can you clarify the difference for me? I’d really like to let people know, um, well, what you think about it as opposed to me and other people without a connection.”

Her voice shook, and she realized how nervous she was to be faced with the honesty of someone who was reminded every day of the color of his skin. She’d always thought of Jackson as Josh’s best friend, but now when she looked at him, she saw a young man her own age who was limited by his race just as she was often underestimated by her sex. The difference in their situations rested on the fear of many in the country that black men were dangerous and must be eliminated as opposed to strong women who needed to be silenced. Jackson could be killed for defending himself, while she’d simply be shamed and shunned.

“Please, Jackson. I really want to know, even though I know I can’t ever truly understand.”

He grabbed a frame from a shelf and joined her on the couch. Handing it to her, he explained, “That’s my dad. He fought in Korea fifteen years ago. Recognize the other person?”

She squinted at the blurry image and gasped, “That looks like Josh.”

“That’s his dad, Chris, about two weeks before he was injured in the line of duty and was paralyzed from the waist down. My father—Robert—and he were in the same unit. That’s how they know each other and why Josh and I had an immediate bond when we met.” He took the picture from her and set it gently on the side table. “My dad’s a vet, decorated and honorably discharged after serving in military combat, but he still can’t get a promotion at his factory job because of he’s black. He gave up getting a college education so I could take his GI benefits. He sent me to California in hopes that I’d be accepted there in a way I couldn’t here or in the South.”

“Did it work?” she asked, genuinely curious to hear his opinion.

“You tell me. Am I any better off than my parents, or am I in more danger, do you think?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Josh and I marched together for fair housing in this neighborhood a year ago. Dr. King singed a promise with Mayor Daley to promote better living conditions for black families, but you see the state of this neighborhood. It’s still crumbling around us despite working hard and trying our best.”

“What would change that, do you think? What would make a real difference instead of just lip service?”

His eyes flashed, and Jen felt a chill at the latent anger he possessed. “Our leaders need to stop selling out. I flew back to the Bay after the agreement was signed. I spent the rest of the summer in Oakland with some friends helping start the Black Panther Party. Josh went back to Kentucky then, and I haven’t seen him since. He understood why I did what I did, but he’s not a brother and can’t be part of it.”

“I’m still listening,” she told him as she scribbled on her notepad. “You can tell me anything you want.”

“Here’s the thing, Jen. You can’t understand. Neither can Josh. No one who’s not going through this can, but you can listen and try to accept how we feel. Detroit’s burning because we’re tired of waiting for white people to accept us. We’re tired of getting beaten and killed because we’re demanding what should have been ours a century ago. We’re tired of getting targeted by police for doing nothing other than existing. SNCC is looking to join the Panthers too. When a group with the term “non-violent” in its name shifts to Black Power, then you know the non-violent approach isn’t working. Detroit’s going to burn, and the ashes will be just as black as our skin, and it’s not going to stop there. Other cities are going to go up in flames too.”

“What would it take to stop that from happening?”

He grinned at her, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “A revolution, Jen. A revolution’s coming. I hope America’s ready.”

“I hope so too,” she whispered. If not, she worried the long, hot summer of race riots would lead into the fall and beyond. She hoped she was strong enough to face it, but she knew it would be easier with Josh by her side.

****

As the sun set in the west, Jen pounded out her story on her typewriter. She’d already written several versions, but she had a few changes left to make before turning it into her editor.

“Toots, I need your story,” Mr. Murrow barked a few minutes later, and Jen glared at him as he approached her desk.

“My name is Jennifer, Mr. Murrow. I suggest you call me that from now on unless you’d like me to start referring to you as Hot Buns.”

He sniffed and grabbed the paper from her hand before retreating to his office. As he closed the door, he called, “I wouldn’t mind a bit, doll.”

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath as she left for home.

She was only slightly mollified the next morning when she saw he’d published her story with almost no changes. Breathing in sharply, she sipped her coffee and skimmed her piece.

The Long, Hot Summer of 1967 is still burning, and there are several more weeks to go until it’s over. Riots across the nation test the patience of even the most understanding white people and illuminate the anger and frustration of the Negro population.

It doesn’t take much to understand why if one wanders the streets of South Chicago where houses sit in disrepair, as dejected and run-down as some of the owners. They exist in a nation that fails to value the worth of all Americans, where appearance is more important than what’s inside.

I visited with Jackson Jones, a young black man who lives with his family in a small, tidy, but dilapidated dwelling in South Deering. His candor about the situation in Detroit demonstrates an understanding I can only hope to achieve.

“We’ve waited long enough,” he argues. “It’s been 100 years since emancipation, and we’re still treated as second class citizens—if that. And it’s no better in the North than in the Deep South. I live in Chicago, but I’m still bound by what others see as the color of my skin, not my degree from Berkeley, top grades, or my fledgling career.

“I marched with Dr. King last year, and I was told to stop protesting and get a job; that marching wouldn’t do any good; that if I really wanted to see change, I should keep my mouth shut and be grateful for what I’ve already got; that somehow I have to prove to others what I’m worth—even though nothing will ever be good enough for acceptance.

“Detroit isn’t an anomaly. It’s not special. We protested peacefully across the country, and whites complained that we disrupted their lives. Now there are riots, and black people are to blame for destroyed property across the nation. We’re the problem, not the racism we’re attempting to combat.

“When am I more important than a storefront window? When does my life have the same value as property? If more of us knew that, maybe we’d protest the way white people want us to. Or is that even possible until we’re quiet and refuse to ask for more?”

My own concern is that white America already knows the answer, and it’s unacceptable to the disenfranchised.

#joshiferrecs #joshifersource #fyeah-joshifer #the vintage joshifer series #joshifer #end of love #1960s #jhutchdirectory

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jerrylevitch · 7 years ago

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This is the real Jerry

From Patti Lewis’ book, ‘I Laffed ‘Til I Cried”

“Jerry was a master at candidly acting out personal vignettes about three areas of real life: relationships, situations, and predicaments. They form the backbone of his comedy. He nurtured many relationships and wrote volumes on how he felt. I tried to understand what he was saying, beyond the words, when I read the notes he sent me; the “I luv you’s” written across my makeup mirror at home; and the longer messages I found on my desk.” ”At times I found him five parts philosopher, one part humanist, ten parts deep thinker, one part spiritual, fifty parts comedian, twelve parts unpredictability, and twenty-one parts everything else. In 1966, one late summer afternoon, I found the following and took it to the garden to read:” ”To ask how deeply I feel is like asking, ‘Where is God?’” ”We can answer with nothing more than “if’s” and “maybe’s.” “In other words, the answers are really intangibles, yet I’m going to attempt to answer one of them to the best of my knowledge and awareness.” My feelings, where my wife is concerned, are very deep and very sacred…She is the very reason I live…for she is the only reason I know that makes living worth anything…and the boys that she produced for me are equally worth it, but one day they’ll leave and then there will be only us… She is the first human thing that has ever cared about me or for me…Oh, there were little dogs, and little boys and a few beings that cared, but not enough that I could have survived. It was only when she came into my life that I realized I had a life to live…I was always made to feel that I was given a case of breath out of pity…It was as though someone said, “We have plenty, give him some.” Then I knew I had to make good and be someone, or something a little better than those that gave me an occasional handout… As I got older, I didn’t much care about being better than them anymore…I just cared about staying alive and getting some degree of respect as a human thing on God’s Earth…I knew he didn’t mean to have anyone just exist…but he meant fur us all to have a meaning and a purpose. I have to try to get my thoughts put in the proper place so I can put things down that really count! Now then, if my wife was the first to care and to really treat me like a human being with love and warmth and the like…the big question is, “How could I have treated this special being as I have?” My answer that I find coming is… After so many years of being made to feel like nothing…I guess I worked on being something so much more than nothing…that I found myself making the real somethings around me nothing in the haste that drove me to be something…The responsibility of taking care of the loves I had always had made me feel like, “Why should I care for what one day will discard me anyway?” I don’t know if that’s the case, but it sounds right…and coming from someone who loves those tremendous loves as I do, it certainly confuses me, too… My constant silence, I think, has been fear…of what my love would think of what I’ve done…fear of doing the wrong thing…and losing the respect I have always felt I got from her…to be placed in the position of being disrespected and disregarded again has always knotted up my insides so badly that silence seemed the only way to avoid the possibility of rejection…very often my hiding was part and parcel of that fear…The feeling of being nothing again, or being looked at with disdain, has, for as long as I can remember, been tearing me up inside…And those tears have come out looking like torment…Well, tormented I am, and have been, and pray one day soon I won’t know the feeling anymore… My wrapping myself up so completely in my work helped for a while, but the “ego” that came across was never there…I have none. But I work desperately at displaying “ego” to cover the real emptiness I know inside… As a director I have found infinite peace…because I am to so many…an authority, a man who knows, and not someone who is treated with “pity” or “charity”…That’s the biggest reason for the love of creativity I have, for a man is free when he is creating. Not just creating “funny” by way of the mask I wear, but by making others the puppets…and making them stand out front for a change…The feeling of “behind the camera” feels safe, and warm, and special, and certain…”Out front” has been very hard and trying for me…and for the first time in my life I think I can honestly admit…I hated doing it and I still do…The happiness that seemed to appear from standing “in one” was nothing more than getting a general acceptance from a lot of people who care at the moment….But “at the moment” isn’t enough for me anymore… I need all the care I can get all the time…and I only seem to be able to get that from my love, my wife… I don’t ever want to appear “indifferent” to my wife…but that appearance, too, I think is just hoping not to be a burden and an annoyance to her...I just can’t remember ever being anything but an annoyance…and when I’m told I’m not, I can’t seem to recognize that is possibly the case. I don’t like to hide and run…I want to be free to go and do as any other man does… I know I need help…but I really believe the help will come from within…as soon as I can place things in their right positions… Admitting to “hating performing” might help me adjust sooner…Admitting the love I have for writing and direction will, I’m sure, take me out of the depths of my depression…and will ultimately take me into the realm of peace and contentment. I want to talk more, I want to communicate more…I want to say so much, and get help from her, I want so much to scream the things that tug away at my heart and my soul…And when I try, the hurt is so strong, and deep, and festered that I clam up, and the relief I want doesn’t come… Now to bury that grief…I find someone who has equally as much or more than I so that I can be the helping hand…For if I can help, then my hurts can’t be so bad…How much trouble can I have, if I’m listening to someone else’s? And for years I made that a practice…to give of myself only to forget I needed more giving than anyone… I don’t think I have always been aware of that fact…I really wanted to share and give and be charitable…but there’s that word again…charitable…I should have known better. For “charity” was the one thing that started my life wrong.. I wasn’t entitled to charity by those people when I was so very young…I was entitled to all the love and care all little lives should get…But how long did I have to wait to realize “charity” shouldn’t deal with the ones we love…They should only get the real “love” and nothing more…and give “charity” to strangers in need…Period! (And they should be picked carefully!) I’m trying to feel “God” in me and maybe with his help we can push out the torment…and place the “alive” of a being, back where it was taken from… With it all I am a very lucky man…to have found the real, right, and perfect human being to spend my years with. I want so much to do the right thing to keep her straight and happy and healthy… When she is ill, the reaction to it isn’t any different than when the spike is forced into the vampire’s heart…it’s the only emotional thing that can kill me, and that’s when she hurts…or when I’ve caused her pain…but my intentions are never to hurt her, never to do her a moment’s pain…Never to create a frown on her lovely face…Why those things happen are a complexity to us both…And I will serve myself from here on in as a student of care and concern and caution as to how she gets treated and how I allow much of my feelings to affect her… I can only answer “God” honestly, and he knows my worth and my intentions, I have no fear of his wrath…for I know he knows I’m basically good, and fine, and honorable when it comes to my love and my soul for her… I have no guilt about what I have done thru my blindness…I only have guilt for the things I might have avoided doing…If I had just put…”First things first.” I will try! And “God” knows my heart is talking, not the typewriter.”

#Jerry Lewis #Patti Lewis #I Laffed Til I Cried #this is for all of those people judging Jerry

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travelonlinetips-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://travelonlinetips.com/herbert-d-kelleher-southwest-pioneer-who-bestowed-the-world-with-affordable-safe-air-travel/

Herbert D Kelleher: Southwest pioneer who bestowed the world with affordable, safe air travel

“How important’s Herb Kelleher? Herb Kelleher’s like God.”

You may not have heard of Herbert D Kelleher, the co-founder and long-term leader of Southwest Airlines, who died on Thursday 4 January at the age of 87.

But Michael O’Leary, chief executive of Ryanair, regards him as a deity and calls him: “The original genius, the Thomas Edison of low-fare air travel, the one who revolutionised the industry.”

Trust me: if you have taken a short-haul flight in the past couple of decades, this chain-smoking, whiskey-drinking lawyer has improved your travelling life.

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Even by Texan standards, Herb Kelleher was a maverick. He was hired in 1966 in a bar in San Antonio, Texas, by a local businessman, Rollin King. Their aim: to start a low-fare, efficient airline.

It took five years of courtroom battles against vested interests running high-fare, inefficient airlines. At one stage Braniff, Continental and Trans-Texas Airlines even managed to get a restraining order to prevent the Texas Aeronautics Commission issuing Southwest with a certificate to fly. Their argument: that there was no need for a new airline.

Oh yes, there was.

About $1m in legal fees later, Southwest finally took off. Even then the Boeing 737s were allowed only to shuttle passengers between Dallas, Houston and San Antonio.

As a “Texan domestic” carrier, Southwest found others trying to put it out of business. In a fares war against Braniff in January 1973, Southwest cut its tickets to a flat $13 on every flight – though with the option for business travellers of paying twice as much and getting a free bottle of liquor for their personal consumption.

Initially Southwest was not exactly politically correct, with a uniform of tight tops, hot pants and white leather boots (for female flight attendants, not male pilots).

Yet while its Texan rivals no longer exist, Southwest has grown to become the most successful airline in the world. The Dallas-based carrier is outstandingly profitable and safe, and exudes qualities often lacking elsewhere in the transport industry: humanity and humour.

Southwest’s staff love Herb, and their passengers love Southwest.

In the safety briefing for a Southwest flight I took from New Orleans to Las Vegas, after the instruction to ”place the life jacket over your head,“ passengers were advised “fix your hair … and if you’re travelling with young children, or anyone too cool to watch a safety demonstration, fit your own mask before helping them”.

After the crew on flight 1892 learned that a couple onboard were off to get married, they announced: “We’ve made them some hats in the galley.” The headgear was fashioned from bags of peanuts held in place by red plastic cocktail sticks, and the couple were told on arrival: “You have to wear them at least as far as baggage reclaim.”

Unlike, say, the purveyors of sugary soft drinks, Kelleher was happy to share his business secrets, welcoming a procession of young entrepreneurs keen to replicate his recipe around the world.

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“As far as low-cost travel is concerned, he was definitely the pioneer,’ said Sir Richard Branson.

“Southwest is really my role model,” echoed Sir Stelios Haji-Ioannou, founder of easyJet.

Herb Kelleher, like those aviation knights, knew the value of free publicity; he once settled a trade-mark dispute with an arm-wrestling contest that was dressed up as a heavyweight fight. He lost the right to use the term “Plane Smart” (possibly because for most of the bout he had a cigarette in his mouth), but won the hearts of millions of prospective passengers.

Meanwhile Matthew Emson, a passenger flying with his family on Friday from Birmingham to Faro in Portugal, said: “I don’t think I’d be flying Ryanair so cheaply if he hadn’t been around.”

The maverick’s conviction that aviation should be affordable, safe and fun has extended the horizons of many millions of travellers: initially within Texas, then across America, and now around the world. At a time when some want to build barriers and constrain the freedom to travel, Herb Kelleher’s legacy is more precious than ever.

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britesparc · 7 years ago

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Weekend Top Ten #297

Top Ten Batman Costumes (Live-Action Edition)

To celebrate the release of Justice League, I present a two-part examination of Batman’s costumes through the years. What works, what doesn’t, what I like best. Here, to kick it off, my favourite Batman costumes, as worn by well-paid dudes in various live-action appearances.

Holy moulded rubber nipples, Batman!

The Dark Knight (2008): I don't think there's ever been a "perfect" batsuit on film. Not even close. This suit deviates quite substantially from the comic, but in doing so, it creates the best ever look on film. Utilitarian, well-realised, with a strong silhouette and – for once – looking like a costume someone could fight in. It's a pity its design minimises the importance of the bat symbol on his chest, but at least Batman can turn his head. Also: I'll never be keen on the whole "black eyes" thing. Give him lenses in his cowl, for goodness' sake.

Batman Begins (2005): the original Nolan-verse batsuit is surprisingly close to the comics. It's probably the best "traditional" interpretation of the comic suit yet seen: close-fitting rather than segmented armour, with a moulded cowl that mimics the traditional silhouette of Batman. The downside, of course, is that poor Chrisie Bale can't turn his head, and ends up with a stupidly thick neck. He still has the dark makeup round his eyes, which I continue to find silly.

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016): this costume is so close to being perfect it's frustrating. What lets it down, to me, is that unlike the two costumes above, it feels like it's designed to look cool but not function. It looks rubbery, it has the awful moulded neck again, and it just looks kinda fake; like a movie costume but not a "real" uniform, so to speak. Now all the negativity's out of the way, let's just say: it's a practical realisation of the comic book, and as such, it's great. Grey, bit black bat-sign, gloves and cape... it's a cool look! Just wish they'd made it look a bit more "real". Also: still with the mascara.

Batman Returns (1992): obviously the Burton films are iconic in a lot of ways, and the redesign of the batsuit is just as influential as everything else. Darkening proceedings – deemed necessary following Batman's pop culture association with camp – the suit is all-black and clearly armoured, coming across as moulded rubber or plastic. However, despite being black and not grey, it's surprisingly faithful in style to the comics, including the belt, gloves, and yellow oval. But like it’s Batman predecessor suit, it’s got that stiff rubber neck which gives us the “Batman turn”. And Mickie Keaton is still wearing mascara, which inexplicably is suggested to be part of his mask when he tears his cowl off at the end of the film.

Batman (1966): obviously aiming for a certain style, the suit worn by Addie West is a joy to behold. Bright and colourful, as befits the show itself, it allows for a great deal of freedom of movement. One imagines West could probably dress himself, whereas other Bat actors (Bactors?) most likely needed a coterie of costume assistants to lever various rubber accoutrements onto their bodies. Loses some points because this is, quite frankly, a very silly costume for Batman to wear, neither offering stealth nor protection. But – and it's a doozy – despite the accusations of campery, West is the only Batman NOT to wear mascara. Really this alone should have put him at number one.

Batman (1989): basically the same as the Batman Returns suit but for some reason they bodged the Batsign first time round. I mean, how did they manage that? It's the right Batsign on the cover. In the title sequence. Why did the give the bat on his costume those stupid extra pointy bits? Plus he's got panda eyes, the big dope.

Batman v Superman armoured batsuit (2015): a broadly very faithful and very impressive adaptation of the suit from The Dark Knight Returns, the story Dawn of Justice wishes it were telling but utterly misunderstands at every point. Weirdly he probably has more manoeuvrability in his neck here than when he’s in his normal suit. Also scores bonus points for being mostly CG, apparently. Loses points for being the suit worn during the awful "Martha" scene. Gains those points back again because – huzzah! - Benny Affleck isn't smothered in mascara when we get a peek under the cowl.

Batman Forever (1995): a refinement, one supposes, of the Returns suit. It's a bit sleeker, I guess, but somehow doesn't hang together quite as well. The hints of costumes to come are starting to creep in at the edges; it's starting to become too over-designed, with ridiculous contoured muscles and a bulging codpiece. The fact that, by the film's end, Valley Kilmer is wearing a new costume that's a tad more colourful and somewhat more elaborate in design is indicative of the direction the series was heading. Still with the crap neck. Plus he's got them black eyes again.

Justice League (2017): perhaps I'm being a bit harsh judging this suit, as it's from a film that is not (at time of writing) actually out yet, and which I'm likely not going to see until nearly December. But from the stills and the trailer, it's a refinement of the Dawn of Justice costume, except they've made it a bit worse. To be fair, it looks slightly less like rubber muscle suit, but the darker tone does it no favours (making the bat harder to distinguish) and the "plating" effect looks like a half-hearted compromise between Nolan-esque realism and comics fealty. And my dude is still a panda.

Justice League (2017) – tactical batsuit: perhaps I'm being even harsher, as I've hardly seen any of this suit. The "armoured" effect is more pronounced, but in doing so it's an improvement over the "standard" Justice League suit, as it's no longer a middle-ground fudge. But it feels like a step back from the attempts at comics fealty to make something that's Nolan-esque but substantially worse; if they wanted an armoured suit but not a full-on mech-affair like Dawn of Justice, looking at the superior Arkham games would have been a better bet. I mean, he still can’t turn his head, for Christ’s sake. And although Bats finally – finally! - has lenses in his cowl, they look a bit weird and square and crap. It's been compared dismissively to Nite Owl's suit from Snyder's Watchmen, which is a bit unfair (especially as Nite Owl's was one of the better costumes in that film), but I can kinda see it. And despite the lenses, it looks like they've still made poor sad Benny Affleck poke black gunk into his eyes. Geeze, Batman, what's up with that?

Incidentally, of course – of course - I remember that bit in The Dark Knight where he activates his sonar-vision or whatever it is and his eyes go white. It's a cool bit. But it's one tiny moment. I still think, in this day and age of Spidery-Men and Irony-Men with their full-face masks, we'd buy a Batman who had some kind of lenses or goggles in his cowl that slid away to reveal his eyes, but without the silly black mascara painted around them. Or, y'know, if we are saying that he puts this makeup on to help darken his eyes or reinforce his disguse, then don't shy away from it. Don't pretend it's not real, like Batman Returns does.

#top ten #batman #costumes #movies #justice league

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footballleague0 · 7 years ago

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Lombardi put end to Packers’ annual Thanksgiving clash with Detroit

Tony from West Olive, MI

The Packers under Vince Lombardi didn’t play that well on Thanksgiving Day in Detroit. After the tie in 1963, they didn’t play against the Lions on Thanksgiving for many years. I read, or think I did, this was Vince’s doing. Is there any truth to that? By the way, I live along the shores of Lake Michigan, but as the crow flies I’m closer to Green Bay than Detroit. Proud to wear green and gold in Michigan!

That’s true. Lombardi didn’t like playing in Detroit on Thanksgiving and insisted that NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle find someone else to take the Packers’ place. The Thanksgiving Day Packers-Lions series started in 1951 and continued through 1963. At the time, it was the NFL’s only Thanksgiving Day game.

Lombardi was coach for five of those games and the Packers were 2-2-1, but the Lions had more going for them than just home-field advantage. They finished second to the Packers in the Western Conference three straight years from 1960 to ’62 and probably were the second best team in the league during that stretch. Lombardi also lost to the Lions at home in 1961 and won a squeaker in ‘62 on a last-second field goal.

The Thanksgiving game everyone seems to remember was Green Bay’s 1962 loss to the Lions, a 26-14 embarrassment. The Packers fell behind, 23-0, at halftime and Bart Starr ended up being dumped for a loss nine times for 83 yards.

But that loss wasn’t what prompted Lombardi to badger the league into finding another Thanksgiving Day opponent for the Lions. A year earlier, he voiced his objections to playing in the game, despite the Packers winning 17-9.

“The big reason I’m against it is because four days is not enough time to get ready for a game,” Lombardi said in the dressing room at Tiger Stadium in 1961. “And now, with the new television contract, every club will receive the same amount. If we are to continue in this game, I feel we should receive additional revenue.”

Two days after the 1963 game, Rozelle announced the Packers would no longer be forced to play in Detroit every Thanksgiving. He said Western Conference teams would likely rotate as the opponent for the Lions, although the Cleveland Browns had expressed a willingness to take Green Bay’s place.

Then everything changed when Dallas was assigned a second Thanksgiving game starting in 1966. The Packers played in Dallas in 1970, but not again in Detroit on Thanksgiving until 1984.

When the Packers played for the first time on Thanksgiving in 1951, it also was the first time they ever appeared in a nationally televised game. Obviously, that was a big deal in Green Bay. The game was broadcast on the DuMont Television Network and an estimated 24 million viewers were expected to tune in.

Then again, mind-boggling as it might seem today, while the game was played in Detroit and broadcast coast-to-coast, it wasn’t televised in Green Bay.

The reason?

Green Bay didn’t have a TV station yet and wouldn’t have one until 1953. The game was broadcast on WTMJ in Milwaukee and people with TVs in Green Bay were hoping their reception would be good enough to watch the game through the snow on the screen of their analog TV. Others planned to drive to Milwaukee and Sheboygan to watch it. But the vast percentage of fans in Green Bay probably had to settle for listening to it on radio station WJPG.

Here’s yet another storyline about that game.

The capacity in 1951 of what was then named Briggs Stadium was just over 58,000, or more than enough seats to hold the entire city of Green Bay. Based on the 1950 census, Green Bay’s population was 52,735.

Edward from Canton, SD

What was the last year the Packers ended the regular season in California, playing San Francisco and the LA Rams?

It was 1963, the same year the Thanksgiving Day tradition ended. The Packers finished with back-to-back games on the West Coast from 1950 to ’63. Then for the next three years, they played their last game in either Los Angeles or San Francisco, but made two trips west.

When the 1964 NFL schedule was announced and Lombardi learned the Packers would be playing in San Francisco on Nov. 15 and then going back to California to play the Rams on Dec. 13, he seemed to be as happy over that development as not playing in Detroit on Thanksgiving.

“We’re the only ones who haven’t gone out separately and it’s time,” said Lombardi.

In the beginning, playing back-to-back games on the West Coast was probably a financial godsend for the Packers.

As far as back as the 1920s, they often ended their season with an extended road trip and it was to their benefit. At that time, the Packers weren’t able to sell enough tickets once the weather turned cold to stay in business. In their first 47 years, they played only three regular-season games in Green Bay during the month of December. Even playing in late November, especially during deer hunting season, would kill their gate in Green Bay.

As for the back-to-back games against the Rams and 49ers, in six of the first seven years that the Packers ended their season with two games in California, they took the train there and back. Part of it was Gene Ronzani didn’t like to fly over the mountains, but I think it can be safely assumed that flying twice to the West Coast, maybe even just once, would have sapped the Packers’ cash reserves, at least in the early 1950s.

Scott from Greensburg, IN

On Monday night, Oct. 30, 1967, the Packers played the Cardinals in St. Louis. As a youngster my dad allowed my brother and me to stay up late and watch the game. It is a great memory from a very special season. My question is do you know what precipitated this game being on Monday night? My first thought was perhaps it had something to do with the baseball Cardinals being in the World Series – but that was long before postseason play went that far into October. Was this nationally televised? I assume it was for us to see it out of Indianapolis, which didn’t have a pro football at the time. Was it on CBS, the NFL’s network in those days? Was this game in any way a precursor to ABC’s MNF, which began in 1970? Finally, were there other games played on Monday nights earlier or was this game unique?

Intriguing question. I can’t tell you what was discussed in private among Rozelle, NFL owners and television execs, and whether there were visionaries who saw the potential for playing weeknight NFL games. But here’s what I was able to research.

It was the only Monday night game scheduled in 1967 and it was broadcast nationally by CBS. It also would be three years before Monday Night Football became a fixture on ABC.

However, it also was the fourth year in a row that the St. Louis Cardinals were scheduled to play a Monday night home game.

When the NFL schedule was announced in 1964, it called for the Cardinals to host the Baltimore Colts on Oct. 12. However, the game was later moved to Baltimore because the baseball Cardinals were in the World Series. As a result, the football Cardinals played eight road games and only six home games that year.

The next two years, the Cardinals played their Monday night games, as scheduled. They met the Dallas Cowboys on Oct. 4, 1965, and the Chicago Bears on Oct. 31, 1966.

The Packers also played a previous Monday night game at Detroit on Sept. 28, 1964.

Before the 1964 season, the NFL signed a new lucrative, two-year television contract with CBS and added two highly attractive nationally televised games on the final two Saturday afternoons of the season: Green Bay at the Chicago Bears on Dec. 5 and Cleveland at the New York Giants on Dec. 12.

The Monday night Packers-Lions game and Colts-Cardinals game were not scheduled for national television. Apparently, baseball dictated those dates.

The Lions-Packers game was the third week of the season and the Lions started with two road games. The Green Bay Press-Gazette reported when the schedule came out that the Lions wanted to play on Sunday, Sept. 27, but the Detroit Tigers had a game scheduled for Tiger Stadium that day and so the Lions had to play on Monday night if they wanted a home game that weekend.

The Colts-Cardinals game was scheduled for the fifth week and was to be the Cardinals’ home opener. When the schedule was announced, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch explained that the baseball Cardinals wouldn’t close their regular season in Busch Stadium until Oct. 4 and, thus, workers needed the extra time to install the added seats needed for the football Cardinals. Otherwise, they would have to play on the road for a fifth straight week and, as it turned out, that’s exactly what happened. Because of the World Series, the football Cardinals not only lost a home game, but played their first five games of a 14-game schedule away from home.

In 1965, the Post-Dispatch reported the Cowboys-Cardinals game was scheduled for Monday night, rather than Sunday afternoon, to avoid a conflict with dedication ceremonies for St. Louis’ riverfront arch. That game wasn’t scheduled for national television, either.

The tune changed in 1966.

Before the game between the Cardinals and Bears, George Strickler, who had worked in the NFL office in the 1940s, wrote in the Chicago Tribune that the game was “part payment to (CBS) for those million dollar checks CBS passes around to league members these days.”

Thus, I would assume the same was true of the Packers-Cardinals game the next year.

That said, I also sense the Cardinals might have believed they were establishing a profitable tradition with an annual Monday night home game. They weren’t selling out their games at the time and their Monday night games in 1965 and ’66 drew their second-largest crowd each season. The 1967 Packers-Cardinals contest attracted 49,792 fans, the Cardinals’ largest crowd of the season. Their home opener against the New York Giants that year drew only 40,801.

Willie from Hayward, WI

Bill Curry started at center for the Packers in Super Bowl I. In the second quarter when the Packers scored their second touchdown, Ken Bowman was playing center, but Curry snapped for the extra point. What happened?

Curry sprained his ankle and basically took himself out of the game. In 2016, prior to Super Bowl 50, Curry told the Columbus Dispatch, “I left the game, and in the NFL, we all know the code: You don’t leave big games.”

Curry said Lombardi never said a word to him, but exposed him in the expansion draft a month later. New Orleans, in turn, selected Curry.

The 1966 season was Curry’s second and he started all 14 regular-season games at center, plus the NFL championship in Dallas and the first Super Bowl. He replaced Bowman, who had dislocated his right shoulder in the preseason. As a rookie in 1964, Bowman had taken over as the Packers’ starting center in the eighth game. He remained the starter throughout the Packers’ 1965 championship season.

While Bowman remained on the roster during the 1966 season as Curry’s backup, his shoulder was never right, even when he replaced Curry in the Super Bowl. The day after the game, Lombardi was asked why he subbed for Curry and he had nothing but high praise for Bowman.

“Bowman deserves a lot of credit,” Lombardi told reporters. “You know he has a dislocated shoulder that pops out frequently… Fortunately, the shoulder only popped out once yesterday. It was easily put back.”

Bowman subsequently underwent surgery in the offseason and started nine regular-season games and three postseason games, including Super Bowl II, when the Packers repeated as champions in 1967.

Mark from Appleton, WI

I was a 12-year-old living in Appleton when the Ice Bowl was played. I believe I saw it on live TV, black and white for us. Is my memory incorrect? Your statement that the Green Bay market was blacked out does not ring correctly – or maybe Appleton did not fall into the Green Bay market? We watched on Channel 2 – WBAY TV. Thank you for any clarification.

The game was blacked out in Green Bay. It was televised exclusively by CBS and shown to 99.5% of its viewing audience. The only two markets in the country that were prevented from broadcasting it, per NFL rules of the day, were Green Bay, where WBAY was the CBS affiliate, and Wausau.

That said, if you have recollections of watching the game, maybe you did. WISN, Channel 12 in Milwaukee, aired the game and you’d know better than I if you could view Milwaukee channels in Appleton when you were a kid. I can tell you this: The Post-Crescent, Appleton’s daily newspaper, carried Channel 12’s listings in its TV section. Plus, Sabre Lanes in Appleton ran ads before the game telling people they’d be showing it on TV. Presumably, it was able to pick up a Milwaukee station. So maybe there was a way of watching it in your home in Appleton.

Here’s another possibility. The Post-Crescent’s TV listings noted films of the game were going to be shown on Green Bay’s Channel 2 at 4 p.m. Monday, the day after the game. That was New Year’s Day so it might have seemed like Sunday for at least some of the people who watched what I presume was a replay of some sort.

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giantsfootball0 · 7 years ago

Text

Lombardi put end to Packers’ annual Thanksgiving clash with Detroit

Tony from West Olive, MI

Then everything changed when Dallas was assigned a second Thanksgiving game starting in 1966. The Packers played in Dallas in 1970, but not again in Detroit on Thanksgiving until 1984.

Then again, mind-boggling as it might seem today, while the game was played in Detroit and broadcast coast-to-coast, it wasn’t televised in Green Bay.

The reason?

Here’s yet another storyline about that game.

Edward from Canton, SD

What was the last year the Packers ended the regular season in California, playing San Francisco and the LA Rams?

“We’re the only ones who haven’t gone out separately and it’s time,” said Lombardi.

In the beginning, playing back-to-back games on the West Coast was probably a financial godsend for the Packers.

Scott from Greensburg, IN

It was the only Monday night game scheduled in 1967 and it was broadcast nationally by CBS. It also would be three years before Monday Night Football became a fixture on ABC.

However, it also was the fourth year in a row that the St. Louis Cardinals were scheduled to play a Monday night home game.

The next two years, the Cardinals played their Monday night games, as scheduled. They met the Dallas Cowboys on Oct. 4, 1965, and the Chicago Bears on Oct. 31, 1966.

The Packers also played a previous Monday night game at Detroit on Sept. 28, 1964.

The Monday night Packers-Lions game and Colts-Cardinals game were not scheduled for national television. Apparently, baseball dictated those dates.

The tune changed in 1966.

Thus, I would assume the same was true of the Packers-Cardinals game the next year.

Willie from Hayward, WI

Curry said Lombardi never said a word to him, but exposed him in the expansion draft a month later. New Orleans, in turn, selected Curry.

Bowman subsequently underwent surgery in the offseason and started nine regular-season games and three postseason games, including Super Bowl II, when the Packers repeated as champions in 1967.

Mark from Appleton, WI

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