#imagine it’s the second half of the twentieth century

[singhallelujahh]

hold up homies I’m getting emotional about the preface to gaudium et spes again

[whinlatter]

Hi! I wanted to ask you what's your take on clothes and how wizards dress? I've been thinking about this since the 'gettin ready fot the party' scene. What's a typical wardrobe for typical wizard in te 90's? I always imagined that they just dress like muggles (or maybe the younger generations?), and i when i read the books i always had a hard time imagining them when they are trying to pass as muggles, you know? Like what, they don't understans which clothes are for a specific event? Because Harry says that he could tell thay dress a bit diffrent, like out of place. I mean, it's probably just meant to be funny, but, how isolated are they to not knowwhat muggles wear? I guess it also has to do with how they are raised, i imagine blood-supremacists (is that how it's called?) use only 'robes' (whatever that is, and, also, what's under those robes? like, a thong? do they wear muggle underwear? SO MANY QUESTIONS)

So, i was thinking about this instead of working🤠.

I liiive for that part with tonks' clothes, i even got a litlle "oh i wanna be thereeee and try everything and make everything fit with magic!"

And this how i imagine wizards dress (according to jkr) in the muggle world

ok please know that this image made me howl

thank you for the super interesting question! i have thought a bit about typical wizarding wardrobes and familiarity with muggle fashion among wizards in the 90s as a worldbuilding question in beasts. it's definitely true that wizarding familiarity with muggle dress is another one of those worldbuilding points in canon where the text is unclear and at times inconsistent. i know people have different views on how much wizarding and muggle culture interact, especially in matters of popular culture and fashion. i've heard very convincing arguments that the cultural insularity and physical remove of the wizarding community from muggles would mean most children raised in wizarding households, especially pureblood families like the weasleys, wouldn't know that much about how muggles plausibly dress, what they listen to, or what forms of media are popular (books, music, sports, even less so tv and film).

while i do agree with some aspects of this, in my approach to wizarding youth culture in the 90s, i think young witches and wizards on the left know more about muggle fashion than they do about many other aspects of muggle culture, and that interest and ability to pull off muggle fashion depends on a person's background, politics, gender (because mostly, it does all seem to be about trousers - i reckon pureblood supremacists, as you say, are in their undies most of the time), but especially generation and the politics/patterns of consumption in the time period when they were a teenager. i think your desire and ability to wear muggle clothing varies a lot if you're born in 1950 vs 1980, partly because of changing wizarding politics and the difference between growing up in peacetime vs a world at war, but partly because muggle fashion changes as a market in the second half of the twentieth century.

basically, i think these young progressive millennial wizards would wear more muggle clothing because of changes in muggle fashions/consumption that allow for greater availability and access to muggle clothing by the 1990s, as well as access to information about fashion and trends, and i think they would want to because willingness to embrace muggle fashions would be a way of showing their commitment to their own politics and forms of teenage rebellion that were distinct from those practiced by generations prior living through the first wizarding war. a longer discussion with my reasoning for this is below the cut!

so - in general, in canon, gen X wizards and older (so the youngest of them born in the 1950s thru 70s, and everyone older than that) seem to dress in muggle clothing really only as a protective measure to prevent exposure/risk breaking the statute of secrecy. when bob ogden goes to the gaunts' house in the 1920s, even as the head of a major ministry department dealing with law enforcement, he does a terrible job dressing as a muggle (the bathing suit, pls bob, i beg). if you look at all the wizards trying to dress as muggles for the world cup, it's clear that the adoption of muggle clothing, for most wizards, is a strategic, defensive move more than anything else. in PoS, mcgonagall - herself a progressive woman in her politics - disdains wizards who are celebrating the end of the first wizarding war by celebrating in the street "not even wearing muggle clothes", which she thinks is reckless and risks wizards' exposure (love when mcgonagall dresses like a muggle briefly at grimmauld place in OotP and it freaks harry out lol). there is no enthusiasm or interest in it - there's just conformity for self-preservation.

for that reason, i think you can see why those on the wizarding right in the mid-twentieth century, especially those drawn to pureblood and wizarding supremacy, would come to see dressing like a muggle as a disgrace, a sign of submission to a lesser people, in a way that would become extremely loaded in the years preceding and during the first wizarding war (1970-1981). when harry sees snape in the flashback to his first trip on the hogwarts express in the early 70s, he notices snape is already wearing his wizard robes very early on in the journey, which harry's narration supposes is because snape's happy to be out of his 'dreadful Muggle clothes' (DH). those muggle clothes were a sign both of snape's poverty but also his outsider status in muggle tinworth: special, because he's a wizard, but otherwise socially inferior to other children in every other way. snape, of course, is raised in a wizarding household with knowledge of magic but has been wearing muggle clothing to avoid detection for his entire childhood, in ways that imbue the wearing of wizarding clothes and casting off of muggle garms with great political significance. in canon, we see that the vast majority of wizards, while not death eaters or rabid pureblood supremacists, tend to be small c conservatives in their view of wizarding cultural norms and tend to think they're better than muggles even if they don't necessarily want to go out and kill them all. for that reason, they remain loyal to wizarding traditions, and continue to wear robes, partly as a symbol of their proud cultural identity as wizards, in ways that they would likely only cling to as their society moves towards open war over muggle-wizard relations (as you say, robes seem to be worn without trousers underneath, so most wizards are just wearing underwear under their robes and going about their day. slay, honestly).

so, if the right hate muggle clothes, then the willingness of gen z+ wizards to engage with and adopt aspects of muggle attire and culture might map onto a progressive political outlook and a disavowal of wizards-first ideology. but a person's politics alone doesn't mean they know how to pull off muggle clothing, and in the years of brewing tension then open war, most wouldn't bother risking their lives to be caught wearing a pair of bell bottoms. arthur weasley is the best example of this. arthur is theoretically interested in muggle clothes because he's a progressive man who disavows wizard supremacy and believes in principles of tolerance towards muggles. now, he's not good at knowing how to pair a plausible muggle outfits. this is because he still lives at a reasonable remove from wizards, he's extremely busy with a demanding job and seven children to be staying up to date with changing fashions, and at the end of the day still spends most of his week among wizards in a civil service that demands a certain level of professional conformity. but i think it's also because arthur weasley is born in 1950 and therefore spent his young adulthood trying to raise a young family during a war. arthur instead channels his politics into support for muggle protection legislation rather than in wearing muggle clothing, which he might see as a limited individual act of symbolic resistance that would put his family at risk and also cost time and money he doesn't have. (if we look at the marauders, as an example of a progressive bunch in the interim generation between arthur and arthur's children, especially someone like sirius with greater financial freedom, it's very telling that sirius shows his politics off through riding a cool muggle motorbike and sticking up muggle soft porn on his bedroom walls, but not noticeably through fashion, as far as harry's photographs show).

but if you look at arthur's children, progressive wizarding millennials, it seems like more confident familiarity with muggle fashions and culture is generally more common. i think we can include someone like tonks in this, raised in a mixed marriage household by a blood traitor and a muggleborn dad. harry says that the weasley children are better than their parents at dressing like muggles. when harry sees bill weasley he doesn't think 'this is a man who looks like he's done a bad job dressing for a muggle rock concert' he thinks 'this is a man who looks like he could be going to a rock concert'. this suggests to me a difference, say, between bill and his dad. arthur likes muggles and believes engaging with muggle culture is important, but doesn't really succeed at it, but his eldest son manages to marry both a political commitment to embracing muggle culture with an ability to dress plausibly as a muggle so much so that he's able to ape a subculture in a way his dad doesn't really try to often and has never succeeded at.

why? i think there's a few things going on. one is that the majority wizarding millennials grew up in peacetime, after the fall of voldemort, in the 1980s and 90s, where wearing muggle clothing was less likely to get you killed and more likely to symbolise an individual act of rebellion against more low-level societal norms and cultural pressures rather than against a murderer in a mask. this, plus having the time and disposable income to follow muggle fashions more closely, as well as the opportunity to access about muggle fashions and celebrity styles, has a big part to play. bill weasley has more time and ability than his dad to stay up to date about muggle clothing tastes, as do his siblings. characters who went to hogwarts in the 80s and 90s also did so at the peak of a mass print consumer culture (one that was already on an upward ascent since the 60s) that was designed to be be accessible, inexpensive and create an appetite for following trends among consumers, and that could very easily be of appeal to progressive young witches and wizards. this is why in beasts i have ginny know about the spice girls and their iconic lewks from a copy of smash hits magazine because that seemed like the kind of inexpensive and highly portable source of information about muggle culture that a muggleborn or halfblood student (or even a pureblooded student with a parent with a progressive interest in muggle clothing) would be able to take to school and pass around a dormitory. on the gender point, too - donning muggle clothes, especially the more permissive and sexy clothing of the 80s and 90s would be a great way for a rebellious young woman raised in a wizarding household - eg. tonks or ginny - to stick it to the conservative gender norms in the wizarding world.

moreover, the changes in fashion as a market in the muggle world would make a certain base style of comfortable and inexpensive muggle dress much more readily available to younger witches and wizards than ever before. for kids born in the late 70s/80s, changes in muggle clothes consumption - aka. the globalisation of mass factory production of textiles, especially garments, and the early forms of fast fashion we now recognise today - would also have an impact on the ready availability of certain basic forms of cheap muggle fashion, including the ubiquity of cheap jeans and trainers/sneakers, that emphasise comfort and ease of daily wear at a low cost point produced in such high volumes such that if you wanted a pair of jeans, you could easily get your hands on one. this would have made a plausible muggle clothing a lot more accessible (there's only so wrong you can go if you're just wearing jeans, t-shirt, a jumper, and a pair of trainers, really), and explain why the clothes harry wears in the muggle world don't seem all that different from the clothes he wears in the wizarding world (admittedly usually under his robes), or indeed that different from what ron seems to wear most of the time. passing as a muggle in 1920 with little effort - à la bob ogden - would be a lot harder than doing so in 1990.

so - yeah. that's my take! i think it's mostly about generation, but also about politics, about war and peace, a bit about gender and a lot about capitalism. i hope this helps!

[fatehbaz]

How is it that a small wedge of the South American continent, long claimed by a major European power and still administered by it, could present a profile of wilderness at the end of the twentieth century? How might this same location on the globe have proved useful for such an unlikely combination of purposes as the resettlement of convicted criminals and the launching of rockets?

French Guiana remains a remarkably insignificant artifact of the political landscape - rarely noticed by most of France, let alone anyone else - as well as one of the least settled regions of the world. It has also hosted two exceptional experiments of the French state: the historical penal colony known in English as “Devil's Island,” which operated between 1852 and 1946, and the contemporary space center that launches the European consortium rocket Ariane, responsible for transporting a good half of the commercial satellites orbiting our globe. [...] Its base, the Guiana Space Center (CSG), indeed lived up to its slogan, becoming “Europe's Spaceport,” a center of high technology near the equator. [...]

---

[T]he penal colony begins operation in the middle of the nineteenth century, partly as a substitute for a system of plantation slavery. It conceives of French Guiana as open land for agricultural settlement, fertile ground for a tropical - and French - Australia, where the action of moral reform can translate into a scheme of colonization. [...] [T]hese early hopes are belied by the high mortality of the convicts [...]. Despite periodic calls for reform and increasing international discomfort, the bagne lasts through World War II. It leaves a deep mark on French Guiana, in both symbolic and material terms. As the movement of seventy thousand exiles progresses, the surrounding landscape shifts from a luxuriant field of dreams into a tableau of terror. At the same time, the colony as a whole grows accustomed to the presence of this artificial prison world within it [...].

---

The space center begins operation in the second half of the twentieth century, in the midst of the Space Race and in the aftermath of the Algerian War. It conceives of French Guiana as open land for technical experiments and a gateway into equatorial orbit, an even more tropical - and French - Cape Canaveral. [...] [A] regular stream of technicians and engineers arrives to assemble and guide it into space. The initial mandate to provide France with a launch site expands into a focus on commercial satellites, and although local opposition to the project continues, the effects of the enterprise on French Guiana in both symbolic and material terms only deepen. As the Ariane rocket gains importance, the surrounding landscape transforms from an orphan of history into a handmaiden of the future. At the same time, the department grows accustomed to an increased infusion of consumer goods, technical personnel, and [...] a new island with an artificial environment and a powerfully altered social profile.

---

At slightly closer range a number of striking structural similarities emerge. Not only do both projects found towns (St. Laurent on the one hand and the new Kourou on the other), but both operate as rival poles of influence and authority relative to the civil administration of French Guiana. Each involves [...] its own hierarchies, its own links to bureaucratic networks in Paris, and its own claims to significant national French interests. Each [...] exerts considerable influence over the surrounding economy. Most crucially, each controls and orders a separate territory within the larger political entity; each has a spatial presence, a direct impact on the landscape. And tied to this spatial strategy, each comes to serve as a symbolic nexus in collective Metropolitan imagination. [...] One employs leftover forces of law and order, whereas the other employs highly trained technical personnel; thus [...] both [...] have ties to the military [...]. The penal colony imports the unwanted of France, whereas the space center imports the selected few. [...]

And the bagne reflects visions of an ancient underworld, whereas Ariane reflects visions of a new overworld. [...]

Many of the specific additional attributes of a desirable site for penal colonization (distance from the Metropole, possibility of confinement and surveillance, and prevention of local disturbance) find echoes in the specific additional attributes of a desirable site for launching rockets (distance from the Metropole, adequate security, adequate possibility of transport, and political stability).[...]

---

The penal colony takes shape at a crucial moment in European colonial understandings of place and labor. Slavery had just been abolished in the French Empire, and an accompanying understanding of work in terms of race had far from expended its interpretive force. [...] Work represented the route to a better future, to the growth of new, valuable lands. [...] If slavery were at an end, then the crucial question facing the colony was that of finding an alternative source of labor. During the period of the early penal colony we see this search for new slaves, not only in French Guiana, but also throughout colonies built on the plantation model. Thousands of Asian Indians and Chinese found their way to new homes in different corners of the British Empire, serving as contract laborers on plantations. [...]

Kourou [the space center] is a neutralized, controlled corner of the tropics, with much of its cultural fabric simply imported. Amid the restricted space of artificially cooled buildings and automobiles, in zones free of carrier mosquitoes and amply supplied with wine and cheese airlifted from France, the distance between Paris and Cayenne shortens; the effects of translation between them grow less clear. If the island mimics the mainland successfully, if Crusoe builds a little England - or France - is his task done? [...] To answer this question, let us return to a crucial turning point of Guyane's history: the aftermath of World War II and the period of formal empire. It was during this era that the natural, political, and moral space of French Guiana was neutralized through a combination of DDT spraying, departmentalization, and the final closing of the penal colony. In 1949, a former teacher [...] in Martinique published an overview of the new overseas departments and territories. His description of French Guiana includes a call to arms for its development, a development still conceived in terms of a need for [...] agriculture, and industry [...]. Gold mines aside, it seems that the method of painstaking labor is the only one really applicable at present. Incontestably, there is magnificent work to accomplish there, such as should tempt young men fond of broad horizons and adventure. The appeal is for an army of Crusoes, advancing ashore to improve their collective island. The questions of race and level of expertise filter through patterns of history and perceived practicality. But the call remains, the call of a wilderness inviting domestication.

---

All text above by: Peter Redfield. Space in the Tropics: From Convicts to Rockets in French Guiana. 2000. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

Sculpture to Be Seen From Mars, 1947

A ten-mile-long earthwork depicting an abstract human face, Noguchi’s Sculpture to Be Seen From Mars was, as the artist himself once put it, “a requiem for all of us who live with the atomic bomb” and alternatively “a flight of the imagination.” Prompted by the World War II atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, which horrified Noguchi—“he often spoke of his fear of atomic annihilation,” Hayden Herrera writes in Listening to Stone—he began thinking about end-of-mankind scenarios. “It was in 1945, wasn’t it, when we dropped the atomic bomb?” Noguchi once reflected. “All of us were concerned about our place on earth, and that it might be rather precarious.”

For Noguchi, the monumental work was intended to be “an eternal reminder to the rest of the solar system that the planet earth, seemingly bent on self-destruction, once had its civilizations,” writes Friedman in the Imaginary Landscapes catalogue, hailing it as the artist’s “most impressive memorial to the futility of war.” The work, as Friedman points out, was also Noguchi’s way of showing his respect and reverence for ancient and indigenous monumental forms, such as the pre-Columbian geometric earthworks in the Andes. “‘Earth sculpture’ is nothing new,” Noguchi said. “It’s just a new name for an old thing.”

The earthwork also connected to Noguchi’s ongoing interest in outer space and the cosmos. When the art critic Lucy Lippard asked Noguchi to use a photograph of the project in her 1983 book Overlay, paralleling contemporary art with prehistoric sites and symbols, Noguchi replied, “I recently saw a reproduction of a face which was found in the landscape of Mars taken by the Viking Satellite. I think it would be very appropriate to show this version along with mine. I have written to the Mars Research Laboratory asking for this image and will send it to you if you are interested.” The connection of rocks across the universe was not lost on the artist. “Ultimately,” Noguchi told Calvin Tomkins in The New Yorker in 1980, “I like to think that when you get to the furthest point of technology, when you get to outer space, what do you find to bring back? Rocks!”

An incredibly moving, visionary concept that, as Friedman notes, in many ways preceded the land art and conceptual art movements that would emerge and flourish in the second half of the twentieth century, Noguchi’s memorial to mankind was intended for “some desert, some unwanted area.” It was, as the artist put it, “a sculpture just to be seen from the air so that, when you come to a landing, you will see the sculpture there.” That Noguchi was concurrently working on the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial suggests he was balancing both a belief in America’s future technological prospects and an acknowledgment of the bleak potential for mankind to destroy the planet and itself. Sculpture to Be Seen From Mars is today only memorialized in a single photograph of a model Noguchi had formed out of sand.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Priory School pt 1

A 4-parter? Exciting. Though I'm going away in a couple of days so I don't know when I'll get a chance to properly read through it all.

Anyway, first thing's first:

I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling than the first appearance of Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc.

What a name. Are those both surnames or did his parents name him Thorneycroft? If so, that's quite the name to have. It's got to be a two-part surname, hasn't it?

...so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action when the door had closed behind him was to stagger against the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.

He collapsed, but he did it in the most dignified manner possible.

That's a superpower.

Then Holmes hurried with a cushion for his head and I with brandy for his lips.

BRANDY!

How I have missed you! Clearly the only possible medical response to such an entrance. Give the man a brandy, let it work its magic!

Brandy, the unsung hero of the Holmes stories. The true doctor. The panacea of the ages.

"Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit I have no doubt that I should be better."

What? No brandy?

Milk and a biscuit? I like this guy.

“Have you heard nothing of the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holdernesse?”

Hey wait, is that one of the stories that was mentioned in a previous story? I vaguely recall something about the Duke being kind of a dickhead. But I might be confusing matters.

By 'late Cabinet Minister' does Holmes mean that of late the duke was a cabinet minister, or that he was a cabinet minister and then he died?

And how many 'wealthiest' people in the country are there? We seem to be collecting them.

"I may tell you, however, that his Grace has already intimated that a cheque for five thousand pounds will be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is, and another thousand to him who can name the man, or men, who have taken him.”

That's over £600,000 in today's money if anyone's wondering, which translates to Just under $750,000.

"And now, Dr. Huxtable, when you have consumed that milk you will kindly tell me what has happened, when it happened, how it happened, and, finally, what Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, of the Priory School, near Mackleton, has to do with the matter, and why he comes three days after an event—the state of your chin gives the date—to ask for my humble services.”

Wait, wait, wait. He called him Dr Huxtable, so that means Thorneycroft is actually his first name. Seriously?

Wow.

That's a choice.

Both by author and by fictional parents. A. Choice.

I'm glad they gave him his milk and biscuits. 😊

"It is an open secret that the Duke's married life had not been a peaceful one, and the matter had ended in a separation by mutual consent, the Duchess taking up her residence in the South of France."

This is strangely functional compared to other relationships we've seen. Apart from the custody issues. (Did the boy run off to live with his mother?) At least neither of them is actively abusing or killing the other - as far as we can tell from this information at least. A mutual separation is very grown up of them.

"Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on the second floor, at the farther end of the building, facing the same way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had also been slept in; but he had apparently gone away partly dressed, since his shirt and socks were lying on the floor."

Was going to say 'suspicious', but the fact that he wasn't fully dressed seems pretty certain to point to him having observed the boy going/being taken and having taken off after him in a hurry. No self respecting kidnapper would do the job half-dressed. At least not in the early twentieth century. Imagine kidnapping someone without your waistcoat or your hat? The horror!

"It is only a few miles away, and we imagined that in some sudden attack of home-sickness he had gone back to his father; but nothing had been heard of him."

You said yourself he was sent to your school because he was miserable at home and missed his mother. Isn't it more likely he was heading to the South of France if he left by himself?

“I am not to blame, Mr. Holmes. His Grace was extremely desirous to avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family unhappiness being dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of the kind.”

I take back everything I said about this duke being a grown up. Your child is missing. Unless you know exactly where he is and that he's safe, or you have a ransom note saying that if you tell people they'll kill him, you don't try and cover the thing up. Avoiding scandal is not more important than your son.

“Was he in the master's class?” “No; he never exchanged a word with him so far as I know.” “That is certainly very singular."

I mean, if you look out your window and see a child absconding from school grounds in the middle of the night, then you kind of have to go after him. You don't just say 'oh, well he's not in my class, it must be someone else's problem'... do you? There's a duty of care, surely.

“Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German rode off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in his arms?” “Certainly not.” “Then what is the theory in your mind?”

That the boy got into a car/carriage with someone he trusted and the German teacher set off in pursuit on his bicycle because one of the students was being kidnapped.

I do hope the poor German teacher isn't dead in a ditch somewhere. He seems to be the only person thus far with any sense (although maybe shouting to wake someone else up might have been a thought).

“His Grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy in his own way.”

Sounds like the perfect candidate for sole custody of a young boy.

“I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his Grace's secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord Saltire's feelings.”

This is the second, or maybe third, mention of Mr James Wilder, his Grace's secretary. Hmmmmm

If anyone could imitate the duke's handwriting, it would be his secretary. And he's going around talking about his employer's private affairs. Hmmm and again I say hmmmmm

"...it would be well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red herring led your pack."

Huh, the phrase 'red herring', according to Google, originated in the year 1807... or 1686... or 1884...

So... that clears that up. 🤣

“The Duke is here,” said he. “The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the study. Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you.”

Ah, Mr Wilder, you grow more suspicious by the second.

“Hardly that, Doctor, hardly that,” said Holmes, in his blandest voice. “This northern air is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose to spend a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I may. Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn is, of course, for you to decide.”

Telling Holmes to stop investigating something is like telling a toddler that they aren't allowed to eat the chocolate cake. Inevitably it makes them want it more. Congratulations, Mr Wilder, you just made sure Holmes is never leaving. You are stuck with him.

The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in with some heat. “His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself...”

Heaven forfend that a duke should post his own letters! LE GASP. He might... touch something common and contaminate his noble hands! Or the effort of such menial exertions might raise a common sweat upon his noble brow! How could you even suggest such a thing, Holmes? How dare?!

It was evident that to his intensely aristocratic nature this discussion of his intimate family affairs with a stranger was most abhorrent, and that he feared lest every fresh question would throw a fiercer light into the discreetly shadowed corners of his ducal history.

I'm not exactly predisposed to like aristocratic characters, I will admit, but this is just such a 'Really? Really really?' moment. I get stiff-upper-lip, toxic-masculinity, allergic-to-emotions, but your only son is missing. Sir, either you are dead inside or you know exactly where he is and are responsible.

[that-starlight-prince]

So when did it become widespread for the word "dick" to refer to a penis? Quick Google search suggests that dick was a slang term for penis as early as the 1890s and yet you had politicians like Dick Nixon using it as a nickname well into the second half of the twentieth century despite the growing penis connotations. Maybe it was only common slang among younger people during Nixon's time. Or, perhaps Nixon didn't mind being associated with cocks in the popular imagination, and he did manage a bit of electoral success so maybe he was on to something...

[jessicanjpa]

ain't no grave

An excerpt from the Requiem one-shot, in which Edward "dies" and inherits from himself for the first time in 1970. He's worked himself into a lovely angst spiral in the graveyard at night and has just carved "1970" as the year of death on Edward Anthony Masen's gravestone.

Seeing the finished product was an uncomfortable thing. Edward Masen—a man who had existed only on paper for more than half a century now—really was dead now. I rose to my feet, feeling the phantom stiffness in my joints left over from Lenny's* mind. Or was it my own advanced age that suddenly felt so very real to me? It made me feel tired, in a way I never had before... so very tired. For just one imagined moment, my immortal body felt heavy and empty of life. Real stone, still stumbling around long after the life it represented ceased to be.

I retreated several steps until my knees hit a stone bench. I didn't bother about the rain puddle it had collected; I just sat down heavily, unable to pull my eyes away from the three tombstones. The imagined fatigue soon passed, leaving a hollow emptiness in its place.

I felt... disconnected, I supposed. It wasn't just the uncomfortable realization that I was now an old man; I felt a real sense of loss. Even though I had rarely paid him any attention, Edward Masen had always been there with me, quietly living out his life in the rental agreements and interest statements and tax forms that were mailed back and forth from Chicago to wherever we had lived at the time. I had never realized until today how much comfort that had brought me, that he was getting to live out that life. It was something none of the others had gotten a chance at. Only now did I understand how little I had appreciated the privilege that Carlisle had arranged for me... how I had squandered it.

The rain grew heavier, but I didn't mind. I didn't want any more "old friends" coming out and catching pneumonia just to discharge their duty. I wanted to be alone. I let the heavy sheets of water and fog pour down without protest, cutting me off from the sights and sounds of Chicago. There was only this graveyard and its inhabitants, every one of them cold and dead... including myself. The darkness of night seemed to come on quickly after that, darkening my mood with it.

I continued to stare, recalling the sparse details of the life we had built for Edward Anthony Masen. There wasn't much beyond the financial records; we had moved him a few times, to keep the lawyers guessing, and the past twenty years had brought him an uncharacteristic knack for playing the stock market. Most of that money had been poured directly into anonymous philanthropy, divided between dozens of organizations. Even when playing the best kind of human, it was wiser to keep a low profile.

But that was it. No wife, no children, no significant contribution to the world. No landmark legal cases—that one would have been especially unwise. But I wished, now more than ever, that we had done more with him. I wished that it would take more than three seconds to mentally recite the sum of his achievements. My eyes drifted unwillingly back to my father's tombstone again. I wished that I had more to tell him about both of the lives I had been conducting over the course of the twentieth century.

The rain pounded on, mercifully filling the black silence of my thoughts. I knew I should leave, that sulking here wasn't going to help anything, but I couldn't. I felt an uncomfortable sense of belonging here in the graveyard, close to my parents. Close to the ghost of myself. In any case, this was where creatures like me were supposed to lurk, wasn't it?

I was beginning to understand why.

Edward.

Carlisle's mental voice derailed my spiraling thoughts instantaneously. I looked around and found him approaching the graveyard from the east, still in his hospital scrubs. He was already soaked, as was the overnight bag slung over his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him with a frown.

He studiously kept his eyes on his feet as he picked his way through the sodden grass toward me. He joined me on the stone bench, looking thoughtfully at the row of tombstones in front of us. Alice thought it might be a good idea.

"And why is that?"

"She was worried about you." He finally looked at me. "She said she saw you spending night after night here in the graveyard. Sometimes she saw you spending other nights in a tree, overlooking a house. Breaking into it, even though there was a family inside."

"I never decided to do those things!"

He laid a hand on my arm. "But you're on a path where you will. She doesn't see you coming home at all anymore. Talk to me, son. I know this must be difficult."

I jerked my arm away, getting to my feet. "You don't know anything about how difficult this is!"

"Then explain it to me," he offered quietly.

I turned away and angrily raked a hand back through my hair, scowling down at the inky hair dye that clung to my fingers. Anthony Masen was already washing away. Why did we work so hard to create these identities in the first place? This always happened; the false humanity fit so poorly that it just washed away.

"You shouldn't have come," I snapped, trying and failing to shake the dye off my hand in the rain. I smeared it across the leaves of a unfortunate bush, cursing Alice's interfering gift. The worst part was that I could see how those visions had come to her; I had already wanted to stay. No doubt I would end up skulking around this graveyard night after night... no doubt I was going to haunt my old house, combing every inch of it just so I could eke out a few more memories to mourn. Why did she have to get Carlisle involved, though? He already had too much on his plate.

Edward, please. I want to help.

I groaned silently, turning back to face him. He was looking up at me with those gentle golden eyes that could infuriate me like nothing else. Why did he have to be so nauseatingly patient? I forced a breath in and out, letting the tide of my anger run its course before I said anything stupid. Of course Carlisle understood. Of course he had dropped everything and flown halfway across the country to sit with me in a rain-soaked graveyard.His worry for me aside, he looked better than he had in weeks. Caring for his family meant more to him than anything in the world.

I finally let out a long sigh, feeling my resistance drain away with it. "I'm sorry."

Carlisle nodded in brief acknowledgement, inviting me back onto the bench. I sat down, letting my eyes drift back to the tombstones again.

"I ran into an old friend today," I began hesitantly.

"Oh?" A series of faces, several of the vampires that we knew, flipped through his mind like the pages of a book.

"No, not that kind. It was an old man... one of my friends from boyhood. He saw the obituary and thought there was a funeral."

Carlisle's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "And he recognized you?"

"At first... well, no, not really. He made the connection right away, but he bought the nephew act well enough."

"I see. And it was hard for you, seeing him again?"

I told him everything: how precious the new memories from last night and today were to me, and yet how distant and flat they were. How it disturbed me that I still couldn't remember Lenny. What a shock it was to realize that this wrinkled, shrunken, dying human was my age. That soon, I would have outlived everyone I had ever known. That it really was time for Edward Masen to be dead and buried.

"I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful," I hurried to add. "It was an unusual gift, that you were able to keep Edward Masen alive for me all those years ago. So... thank you."

"You're welcome." He paused, looking down at his hands. "I wasn't sure how you would feel about the tombstone, so I never said anything. I'm sorry if it wasn't the right thing to do."

"No," I protested. "It's all right. I think... it helps. I needed to see it to let him go."

Carlisle gave me an odd look. "Let him go?"

"Edward Masen."

"But now you have Anthony Masen."

"It's not the same thing."

"Why not?"

I threw my hands up in the air. "It just isn't! Edward Masen was a real person."

"Edward, you are the real person."

I glowered back at him, unwilling to take the bait. We both knew where this conversation was heading, and I didn't feel up to going there right now.

"We don't need to rehearse the usual debate," Carlisle said with the barest hint of a smile, which I couldn't help but return.

"I thought I was the mind reader."

He focused on my appearance, making sure I could see what he saw. It was difficult to hold onto the image of the old man I was when faced with the physical reality: a sulky seventeen-year-old boy, albeit a rain-soaked one with black dye clinging to half his hair. I don't see a corpse, Carlisle thought pointedly. Nor do I see the statue of a young man who once lived. I see my son, who was born in 1901 and is still alive and well, bringing joy to those who love him. Does our joy mean so little to you?

"No," I confessed with a guilty sigh. "It means a great deal."

If you feel you must mourn Edward Masen, then do so. But you'll do it back at home with us. Agreed?

I hesitated for one stubborn, childish moment. I didn't want the doting comfort of those who knew me; I wanted to be alone with my grief as I sorted out what I had left of myself and what I didn't. But if there was one thing I had learned in the past fifty-two years, it was that Carlisle knew best, particularly when it came to my bungled attempts at growing up... or growing old, as the case may be.

"Agreed. I just..."

"What?"

"I just wish we had done more with him, you know? I wish Edward Masen could have left his mark on the world somehow."

Carlisle frowned. "Isn't it enough that we constructed a successful life for him? Not to mention the fact that you've donated hundreds of thousands of dollars in his name, and it's changed the lives of people around the world. Does that mean nothing to you either?"

I sighed heavily, looking away.

"Forgive me," he corrected, backtracking in his thoughts. "What did you have in mind?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it? It's too late."

"I don't see why it has to be. Whatever new project you wish to take on, you can do it through Anthony Masen. And if it really means that much to you to involve the name of Edward Masen, I'm sure you could arrange it somehow. People often give legacies or create foundations in the name of a deceased loved one."

"What kind of foundation?"

Carlisle thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, Edward. I'm leaving this one to you. You know how glad I am that you've taken my advice and turned your new wealth toward generous philanthropy, but you've never seemed all that interested in the projects themselves. I have a feeling this new venture will be far more meaningful if you come up with it yourself."

I shrugged my agreement. "I can't think of anything right now."

"No rush," he said lightly. "Edward Masen isn't going anywhere."

I coughed out a dead laugh. "Graveyard humor, Carlisle? Really?"

----------------------

*Lenny is an OC, a childhood friend and the only person who showed up to say goodbye to Edward Masen. He was rather surprised to see how much "Anthony" looks like his deceased uncle.

[mybeingthere]

KEN KIFF (1935-2001, British)

Among celebrated British artists of the second half of the twentieth century, Ken Kiff displayed one of the most individual and distinctive styles. His paintings and drawings, created in a wide variety of media, are characterized by radiant colour and fantastic flights of the imagination, which in recent years have gained renewed attention in the context of contemporary figurative painting.

Born in Dagenham, Essex, in 1935. Kiff’s childhood during the second world war was heavily impacted by the loss of his father who was killed in London when he was 6 years old. The effects of these traumatic years are inevitably reflected in the style and imagery of much of his work. After leaving school, he continued his studies at the Hornsey School of Art, and subsequently taught part-time at Chelsea School of Art and the Royal College of Art, where he influenced a generation of students.

Kiff was elected Royal Academician in 1991, and was Associate Artist at the National Gallery 1991–93. Unafraid to hold a somewhat solitary position, his commitment to the pictorial values of modernism and his deep respect for artists such as Klee and Miro, meant that his ideas about painting were often at odds with prevailing assumptions. He saw colour in terms of images, and images in terms of colour, which constituted, as he saw it, “the natural complexity of painting’. Images that came to form his personal iconography arose from his imagination, out of the stuff of painting, and his intimate relationship with technique. His deep personal knowledge of poetry and music informed his sense of paintings’ structure. During the 1980s his range of media expanded to include almost every printmaking technique. Collaborating with master printmakers from the UK, Europe and America, numerous editions were published.

[mastercoursesacademy]

Thinking

Thinking is a natural daily process that occurs to a person continuously, daily thinking is like talking, a normal performance that is done constantly, and thinking is an active mental process, which is a kind of continuous internal dialogue with oneself while doing work, watching a view, or enjoying an opinion, and thinking may be a simple mental activity, as is the case when responding to a question about the name, what is your name? , and it can be very complicated, as when solving problems and making decisions.

The global interest in the subject of thinking has increased significantly in the second half of the twentieth century, especially in the decade of the eighties: where this interest was represented in many models of thinking, training programs, research, studies and the agreement of views calling for the advancement and development of this vital field and the development of scientific material, and scientific excellence and technical development is only the product of the greatest exploitation of mental energies.

#The_Power_of_Thinking

#The_idea_is_real_power_

#Ideas_change_reality

#Thinking

#creativity

#imagination

#Imagine

#Activate_Thinking

#brain_storming

#The_Power_of_the_Idea

[rockislandadultreads]

NoveList Combo: Haunting Literary Fiction

Did you know NoveList is a database you can access with your library card to find reading recommendations? Find your next favorite read with this fantastic readers tool! Check it out on our website here.

Life After Life by Kate Atkinson

What if you could live again and again, until you got it right?

On a cold and snowy night in 1910, Ursula Todd is born to an English banker and his wife. She dies before she can draw her first breath. On that same cold and snowy night, Ursula Todd is born, lets out a lusty wail, and embarks upon a life that will be, to say the least, unusual. For as she grows, she also dies, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, while the young century marches on towards its second cataclysmic world war.

Does Ursula's apparently infinite number of lives give her the power to save the world from its inevitable destiny? And if she can - will she?

This is the first volume in the "Todd Family" series.

The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin

You belong to the earth, and the earth is hard.

At the turn of the twentieth century, in a rural stretch of the Pacific Northwest in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, a solitary orchardist named Talmadge carefully tends the grove of fruit trees he has cultivated for nearly half a century. A gentle, solitary man, he finds solace and purpose in the sweetness of the apples, apricots, and plums he grows, and in the quiet, beating heart of the land--the valley of yellow grass bordering a deep canyon that has been his home since he was nine years old. Everything he is and has known is tied to this patch of earth. It is where his widowed mother is buried, taken by illness when he was just thirteen, and where his only companion, his beloved teenaged sister Elsbeth, mysteriously disappeared. It is where the horse wranglers--native men, mostly Nez Perce--pass through each spring with their wild herds, setting up camp in the flowering meadows between the trees.

One day, while in town to sell his fruit at the market, two girls, barefoot and dirty, steal some apples. Later, they appear on his homestead, cautious yet curious about the man who gave them no chase. Feral, scared, and very pregnant, Jane and her sister Della take up on Talmadage's land and indulge in his deep reservoir of compassion. Yet just as the girls begin to trust him, brutal men with guns arrive in the orchard, and the shattering tragedy that follows sets Talmadge on an irrevocable course not only to save and protect them, putting himself between the girls and the world, but to reconcile the ghosts of his own troubled past.

The Paper Palace by Miranda Cowley Heller

It is a perfect July morning, and Elle, a fifty-year-old happily married mother of three, awakens at "The Paper Palace"—the family summer place which she has visited every summer of her life. But this morning is different: last night Elle and her oldest friend Jonas crept out the back door into the darkness and had sex with each other for the first time, all while their spouses chatted away inside.

Now, over the next twenty-four hours, Elle will have to decide between the life she has made with her genuinely beloved husband, Peter, and the life she always imagined she would have had with her childhood love, Jonas, if a tragic event hadn't forever changed the course of their lives.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

Alaska, 1920: a brutal place to homestead, and especially tough for recent arrivals Jack and Mabel. Childless, they are drifting apart--he breaking under the weight of the work of the farm; she crumbling from loneliness and despair. In a moment of levity during the season's first snowfall, they build a child out of snow. The next morning the snow child is gone--but they glimpse a young, blonde-haired girl running through the trees. This little girl, who calls herself Faina, seems to be a child of the woods. She hunts with a red fox at her side, skims lightly across the snow, and somehow survives alone in the Alaskan wilderness. As Jack and Mabel struggle to understand this child who could have stepped from the pages of a fairy tale, they come to love her as their own daughter. But in this beautiful, violent place things are rarely as they appear, and what they eventually learn about Faina will transform all of them.

[grandhotelabyss]

Do you think Logo harbors some hidden latent anti-semitism?

I don't know. If it's there in his thinking, it's probably more in the quasi-theological vein described by Adam Kirsch with reference to Žižek and Badiou (I imagine the argument applies just as well to Logo's beloved Kojève)—

It makes sense, then, that Žižek should finally cast his anti-Judaism in explicitly theological terms. Why is it that so many of the chief foes of totalitarianism in the second half of the twentieth century were Jews—Arendt, Berlin, Levinas? One might think it is because the Jews were the greatest victims of Nazi totalitarianism, and so had the greatest stake in ensuring that its evil was recognized. But Žižek has another explanation: the Jews are stubbornly rejecting the universal love that expresses itself in revolutionary terror, just as they rejected the love of Christ.

—than to the T. S. Eliot brand of modern anti-Semitism aimed at "free-thinking Jews" I was describing recently. The one takes aim at Jewish "particularism," the other at Jewish "universalism."

[shepardrollins01]

Volleyball Best Participant Of All Time

She performs as a libero and was a member of the Dominican Republic nationwide team that won fifth place in the 2012 Summer Olympics. She has been taking part in for Eczacıbaşı VitrA for the rationale that 2015–16 season. Monica De Gennaro is a member of the Italy women's national volleyball team and Prosecco Doc Imoco Volley as knowledgeable participant. Muserskiy is a half of the Russian men’s nationwide volleyball team and a Japanese membership referred to as Suntory Sunbirds. Next on our record is the Outside hitter of the French National staff, Earvin N’Gapeth, top-of-the-line volleyball players. A contemporary of the good Karch Kiraly, he teamed up with him to win two Olympic gold medals and a world championship within the 1980s.

Cast your vote on who you think is the best male volleyball player ever.

Misty May-Treanor was named the most profitable female seaside volleyball participant, having won 112 tournaments in local and worldwide competitions.

Though she was expected to win but her fourth gold medal at the 2016 Rio Olympics, Walsh took residence the bronze along with her new partner April Ross.

With her powerful arm and incredible court awareness, Zhu is a nightmare for opposing groups.

With her highly effective spikes and unbelievable courtroom imaginative and prescient, Kim is a drive to be reckoned with on the court.

It’s hard to search out another libero who’s enjoying on such a high stage for almost all of the profession.

She set the report for probably the most points scored by an individual in a single Olympics with 207. In 2016 he led the Brazilian nationwide staff to a gold medal during their house Olympics. He performed incredibly nicely during the whole match and was voted the best reverse striker within the Olympics. Earvin N’Gapeth not with no reason is on the list of the best volleyball gamers on the planet.

Who Is The Best Feminine Volleyball Player?

She was chosen as the second-best women’s participant of the 20th century by FIVB. An exceptional all-around participant, Wojtowicz was one of the first to practice back-row hitting. Wojtowicz is the best Polish participant ever and was chosen as probably the greatest eight gamers of the twentieth century by the International Federation of Volleyball . Sheilla Castro won gold on the 2008 and 2012 Olympics.Sheilla Castro has been one of the leaders of the dominant Brazilian women’s indoor group over the last decade. Football/Soccer is clearly the world's hottest sport, and has the preferred athletes, but which sport has the fittest players . The best of the most effective have made it to our 7 Sporting Wonders Lists.

He began his skilled profession at the age of 19 in the club Três Corações. As one of some Brazilian players, he played in the best European clubs like Dinamo Moscow or Modena Volley. He was the most effective spiker of the Olympic Games in 2004 and the World Championship in 2004.

How Much Do Skilled Women Volleyball Gamers Make?

Steve Timmons received a nationwide championship in volleyball at USC in 1980.Steve Timmons was a fantastic indoor participant who transitioned to beach volleyball later in his profession. Kim Yeon Koung topped the ladies's listing after one other unimaginable 12 months for the Korean star, whereas Olympic gold medallist Antoine Brizard of France led the boys. Jimmy George is the ever finest volleyball participant on the earth. Nowadays lots of good gamers are there however No one could be examine with jimmy bcoz he is the legend. Please see his sport on youtube then u'll come to learn about jimmy. I suppose when he was about 25 years old, he was one of the best volleyball in the world. Right now, in fact, he’s additionally unbelievable, however he’s older and never able to enjoying as properly as he used to. He played for golf equipment like Trentino, Halkbank Ankara, and Lube Civitanova. He received Champions League 3 occasions, 4 occasions the Club World Championship, and a few other national championships. With him within the staff, Brazil has been great like by no means before.

Sokolova is a top-of-the-line players from Russia who is understood for her incredible protection and agility. She’s a true staff player and a useful asset to any squad. He was lucky to be a part of the galactic Brazilian volleyball team that was merely the best on the planet. Some may argue that one of the best Serbian volleyball player is Nikola Grbić.

Top Ladies Volleyball Gamers (

His serves are highly effective, and he’s considered by some consultants as the best participant in that area. He’s a unbelievable participant, but he doesn’t have any gold medal with Italy, furthermore, he has just one gold medal in the worldwide championship. But, buck up, Ivan, you have some particular person MVP awards and I suppose you still have a chance to win something both together with your membership or nationwide staff. Artamonova-Estes is a robust hitter from Russia who is understood for her aggressive playstyle and unimaginable arm strength. She hold the 7th spot on our record of finest female volleyball players on the planet of all time. Simon is part of the Cuba men’s national volleyball staff and the Italian membership Cucine Lube Civitanova. Instead, he has a silver and bronze medal in the FIVb nations won a gold medal, one of the best libero award, a complete of 12 instances. Christenson is presently a member of the United States men’s nationwide volleyball group and Russian membership Zenit Kazan. Sokolov is a half of the Bulgaria men’s nationwide volleyball team and Russian membership Dynamo Moscow. Volkov is among the greatest Russian outside hitters, and he's currently on the Russian men’s national volleyball group. She additionally coached the U.S. women's nationwide team from 2005 to 2008 and won the silver medal at the 2008 Olympic Games. What we know is he was one of the best volleyball player of the twentieth century. Robertlandy Simón taking half in with the ballHe is the 2009 NORCECA Champion, 2010 World Championship silver medalist, and a two-time South Korean champion. Next on our listing is the American volleyball participant Micah Makanamaikalani Christenson. Next on the list is the Bulgarian opposite, Tsvetan Sokolov, one of the best volleyball players.

[atthetopofthestairs]

The Abrahamic tradition and ethnic homogeneity

The world belongs to God.  The rise and fall of peoples and nations is in the hands of God.  When I speak of ‘divine providence’ I mean the hand of God within human history.

By the end of the tenth century the Abrahamic tradition, via the medium of Christianity, held sway over Britain.  Quite decisively so.  And it remained so for the next thousand years.  What also remained so was the ethnic homogeneity of Britain.  That basic admixture of Picts, Celts, Anglo-Saxons and Vikings which had emerged as the ethnic order of Britain was to stay unchallenged for the next  millennium.  

The Norman invasion is now known to have made very little difference to the overall population of the British Isles.  There were Jews in Britain during the early Middle Ages, cruelly driven out in 1290 by the heartless Edward I.  Huguenots, Protestant refugees from France, were to arrive later on.  Blacks were to be found in small numbers, mostly freed slaves (of which more will be said shortly).  Then the Jews returned under Cromwell, only a few to begin with, but a larger number later on.

Nevertheless, for a period of more or less a thousand years Britain’s population stayed almost unchanged.  And it stayed this way because Britain was throughout all this time overwhelmingly a God-believing nation.  A nation resolutely loyal to the Abrahamic tradition.  Because the British were loyal to God,  nearly all of them anyway, the divine providence ensured that they remained a distinct and ethnically secure population.

There is only one blip in this record, vaguely discernible, of which I shall now speak.  During the eighteenth century there was a widespread turning away from religion in Britain.  Probably as a reaction against the religious fanaticism which had caused so much trouble in the preceding century.  Edward Gibbon and David Hume were leading manifestations of this trend amongst the intelligentsia.  The Hellfire Club was another manifestation, a revolt against Christianity by a section of the upper class.  In tandem with this growing sentiment against religion, curiously enough the demography of London seems to have been changing.  References to this trend are fragmentary and sporadic, but the black population of London seems to have been steadily increasing.  One imagines that they were mainly freed slaves, although this need not have been the only way that ‘blackamoors’ as they were generally known in those days could have entered England.

Had this revolt against the Abrahamic tradition continued apace then white Britons might well have become a racial minority in their own capital city by the end of the nineteenth century.  But in the nineteenth century, more specifically the Victorian Era, there was a great return to God.  Victorian society was a distinctly Christian society.  And by the end of the nineteenth century the black population of London had almost entirely disappeared.  Intermarriage, I rather think, was the tool used by the divine providence to return England to its original ethnic foundations.

But in the latter half of the twentieth century there has been a great turning away from God by most of the indigenous British population.  This is more or less the same as has  happened throughout Western Europe, though far less so in the USA.  I submit that as the modern British population has more-or-less turned away from God so has He more-or-less turned away from the native British population, which population is now in relentless numerical decline.  The latest census figures, for 2021, show clearly that this process is well underway.  It is widely predicted that sometime in the second half of this century white British people will be a minority in their own historic homeland, as they now are in their capital city.  I believe all this to be the decree of heaven, a judgement by God.  Only some kind of return to the Abrahamic tradition can turn away this divine wrath.  I doubt very much though that this is going to occur, bearing in mind how thoroughly secular most of the native British population has become.  The situation is just as bad in Wales and Scotland. The indigenous British are losing their homeland.

The situation is rapidly deteriorating in Ireland too, which provides a striking example of my overall argument.  Up until the 1980′s Ireland was the most God-believing nation in all of Western Europe.  And it was also the most solidly white. But in the 1990′s the Irish began turning away from God. In tandem with this the demography of Ireland started to change.  With each year that passed Ireland became a little bit more secular.  So that now you have African gangs prowling the streets of Dublin and other large Irish cities.  Where will it all end for the Emerald Isle?

The question now, I submit, is not how the indigenous inhabitants of Britain can regain and maintain demographic domination of their historic homeland.  Regretfully I say that it is almost certainly too late for that.  No, the question now is...who will ‘the inheritors’ be?   

[fatehbaz]

How is it that a small wedge of the South American continent, long claimed by a major European power and still administered by it, could present a profile of wilderness at the end of the twentieth century? How might this same location on the globe have proved useful for such an unlikely combination of purposes as the resettlement of convicted criminals and the launching of rockets?

French Guiana remains a remarkably insignificant artifact of the political landscape - rarely noticed by most of France [...]. It has also hosted two exceptional experiments of the French state: the historical penal colony known in English as “Devil’s Island,” which operated between 1852 and 1946, and the contemporary space center that launches the European consortium rocket Ariane, responsible for transporting a good half of the commercial satellites orbiting our globe. […] Its base, the Guiana Space Center (CSG), indeed lived up to its slogan, becoming “Europe’s Spaceport,” a center of high technology near the equator. […]

---

[T]he penal colony begins operation in the middle of the nineteenth century, partly as a substitute for a system of plantation slavery. It conceives of French Guiana as open land for agricultural settlement, fertile ground for a tropical - and French - Australia, where the action of moral reform can translate into a scheme of colonization. […] [T]hese early hopes are belied by the high mortality of the convicts […]. Despite periodic calls for reform and increasing international discomfort, the bagne lasts through World War II. It leaves a deep mark on French Guiana, in both symbolic and material terms. As the movement of seventy thousand exiles progresses,the surrounding landscape shifts from a luxuriant field of dreams into a tableau of terror. At the same time, the colony as a whole grows accustomed to the presence of this artificial prison world within it […].

The space center begins operation in the second half of the twentieth century, in the midst of the Space Race and in the aftermath of the Algerian War. It conceives of French Guiana as open land for technical experiments and a gateway into equatorial orbit, an even more tropical - and French - Cape Canaveral. […] [A] regular stream of technicians and engineers arrives to assemble and guide it into space. The initial mandate to provide France with a launch site expands into a focus on commercial satellites, and although local opposition to the project continues, the effects of the enterprise on French Guiana in both symbolic and material terms only deepen. As the Ariane rocket gains importance, the surrounding landscape transforms from an orphan of history into a handmaiden of the future. At the same time, the department grows accustomed to an increased infusion of consumer goods, technical personnel, and […] a new island with an artificial environment and a powerfully altered social profile. [...]

—

Not only do both projects found towns (St. Laurent on the one hand and the new Kourou on the other), but both operate as rival poles of influence and authority relative to the civil administration of French Guiana. Each involves […] its own hierarchies, its own links to bureaucratic networks in Paris, and its own claims to significant national French interests. Each […] exerts considerable influence over the surrounding economy. Most crucially, each controls and orders a separate territory within the larger political entity; each has a spatial presence, a direct impact on the landscape. And tied to this spatial strategy, each comes to serve as a symbolic nexus in collective Metropolitan imagination. […] One employs leftover forces of law and order, whereas the other employs highly trained technical personnel; thus […] both […] have ties to the military […]. The penal colony imports the unwanted of France, whereas the space center imports the selected few. […] And the bagne reflects visions of an ancient underworld, whereas Ariane reflects visions of a new overworld. […]

—

The penal colony takes shape at a crucial moment in European colonial understandings of place and labor. Slavery had just been abolished in the French Empire, and an accompanying understanding of work in terms of race had far from expended its interpretive force. […] If slavery were at an end, then the crucial question facing the colony was that of finding an alternative source of labor. During the period of the early penal colony we see this search for new slaves, not only in French Guiana, but also throughout colonies built on the plantation model. Thousands of Asian Indians and Chinese [workers] found their way to new homes in different corners of the British Empire, serving as contract laborers on plantations. […]

Kourou [the space center] is a neutralized, controlled corner of the tropics, with much of its cultural fabric simply imported. Amid the restricted space of artificially cooled buildings and automobiles, in zones free of carrier mosquitoes and amply supplied with wine and cheese airlifted from France, the distance between Paris and Cayenne shortens; the effects of translation between them grow less clear. If the island mimics the mainland successfully, if Crusoe builds a little England - or France - is his task done? […] To answer this question, let us return to a crucial turning point of Guyane’s history: the aftermath of World War II and the period of formal empire. It was during this era that the natural, political, and moral space of French Guiana was neutralized through a combination of DDT spraying, departmentalization, and the final closing of the penal colony. In 1949, a former teacher […] in Martinique published an overview of the new overseas departments and territories. His description of French Guiana includes a call to arms for its development, a development still conceived in terms of a need for […] agriculture, and industry […]. Gold mines aside, it seems that the method of painstaking labor is the only one really applicable at present. Incontestably, there is magnificent work to accomplish there, such as should tempt young men fond of broad horizons and adventure. The appeal is for an army of Crusoes, advancing ashore to improve their collective island. The questions of race and level of expertise filter through patterns of history and perceived practicality. But the call remains, the call of a wilderness inviting domestication.

—

All text above by: Peter Redfield. Space in the Tropics: From Convicts to Rockets in French Guiana. 2000. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

"Europe returns to space with successful rocket launch ... Ariane 6 Soars, Propels Europe Back into Competitive Space Race ..." (July 2024)

Congratulations to Europe or whatever. Probably not any colonial implications here.

Why does the European Space Agency launch from French Guiana?

Space in the Tropics: From Convicts to Rockets in French Guiana (Peter Redfield, 2000)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

It simply isn't an adventure worth telling if there aren't any dragons.

- J.R.R. Tolkien

Not until the fall of the Roman Empire and the Rise of Christendom does the dragon in western civilization begin to take on the familiar form we know today in bestiaries and myths. It is perhaps the story of Adam and Eve in the old testament and the appearance of Satan in the form of a serpent that first transfixes the medieval imagination. For nearly a thousand years, the dragon represents evil and becomes synonymous with demons. The dragon is also used by medieval knights emblazoned on their shields and standards to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies.  Throughout the epics and romantic stories of this period dragons show up to be slain by the virtuous heroes of folklore, legend and religion.

In the epic of Beowulf (ca. 1000 AD.) the great Scandinavian king slays a monstrous fire-breathing dragon and dies in its arms.

Icelandic tales in the Volsungasaga (1250 AD.) transforms the dwarf prince Fafnir into a dragon to be slain by Seigfried.

The Welsh Epic of The Mabinogion (1400 AD.) depicts the great Red Dragon of Wales battling a White Dragon and causing earthquakes.

In the Christian faith Satan routinely appears a dragon to tempt the saints.  The Golden Legend (1200 AD.) illustrates St. George and St. Margaret as well as several other saints, confronted by dragons.

By 1500 ad. the mystical apex of catholicism combined with the ever-increasing craft of the visual artists finds the archetypal fire-breathing dragon in its full splendor.  This is well documented when Edmund Spenser describes his titanic monster in The Fairie Queene (1590)

After the Protestant Reformation and the advent of the Age of Reason the dragon becomes more a creature of entertainment rather than of spiritual belief.  Protestant artists are prohibited from depicting scenes from the bible and the stories of the saints are abandoned as idolatry.  Dragons and other beasts take on a decorative nature, and as subjects of classical illustration. During this period it is the first evidence that the dragon is being treated as a fantasy creature.

The 19th century sees a resurgence in the dragon as archeologists, historians and the stories of the “Pre Raphaelite” age are studied and adopted as acceptable subject matter, through Bullfinch, The Brother’s Grim and new translations of the classics and folklore. Throughout this period the dragon stories of the dark past are fodder for artists and writers alike.  By the second half of the nineteenth century the neo-isms (Neoclassical, neo-gothic, neo-egyptian, neo-romanesque) of the beaux-arts academic style return to using the dragon as a decorative  embellishment.

With the dawn of the Industrial Age twentieth century science and technology usurps romantic notions of the arts, pushing the stories of dragons into the genre of mythology and the realm of children’s stories.  Painting and literature had embraced Realism and analytical minimalism throwing off all superstitions of the past to try to make a New kind of art.  Any depiction’s of dragons during this period (and there are few) become an outward representation of the artist’s inner psyche.  Psychology has replaced the dragon with the Id and the Ego.

By the 1970’s, however the art world was ready to once again re-embrace spirituality, mythology and the dragon.  Post-Modern artists found the writings of J.R.R. Tolkein and Joseph Campbell.  The mythologies they had drawn from had a renaissance.

In 1976 TSR  introduced Dungeons and Dragons to a world hungry for fantasy and monsters, becoming a popular phenomenon.  McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern 1970, Dragonslayer 1981 were all introduced to a mesmerized audience.  Since then the dragon has entered into the popular consciousness in a way not seen since the Middle Ages.  Everything from Harry Potter to World of Warcraft and Skyrim have adopted the dragon as their go-to monster to inspire awe and magic.

What is it about the dragon that has captivated us for all of civilization?  Is it the sheer power of nature that cannot be tamed.  Is it a psychological metaphor for primal fear?  Is it perhaps a innate memory of our long lost primitive prehistory?  Whatever the reason, in all cultures around the world the dragon , in all its forms has haunted our minds and our imaginations and will continue to do so in the century to come.

**Medieval artwork of a leaf from Harley’s Bestiary, made from Gerald of Wales’ topography in around 1250–1350AD.

[uwmadarchives]

Those “Confrontational Days”: Remembering Madison’s LBGTQ+ Early Activists through Oral Histories*

By Jack Styler (he/him)

*Be advised that the clip above contains sexual language. Also, the clip above and oral histories referenced below are part of the University Archives’ LGBTQ+ Archives.

Today it’s hard to imagine any psychologist getting up before the city of Madison’s Equal Opportunity Commission and testifying that discrimination against gay people ought to be legalized because of the inherent sexuality of young boys and girls. However, as Barbara Lightner said, they lived in “the confrontational days” when the LBGTQ people of Madison had to march, organize, and band together to ward off attempts from anti-gay activists who tried to deprive them of their right not to be discriminated against. 

In a post-Obergefell v. Hodges time and in a liberal bubble like the city of Madison, the fight for gay rights can sometimes seem like an afterthought. Of course, virulent anti-gay sentiments, de facto discrimination, conscious and unconscious bias against LGBTQ people still exist across the United States. However, in the city of Madison, the hometown of Tammy Baldwin, the first openly LGBTQ US Representative and Senator, which also elected its first openly LGBTQ mayor, Satya Rhodes-Conway, in 2019, it can be easy to forget those who fought to make Madison the place it is today. 

The University of Wisconsin’s Oral History Program is lucky enough to house the oral histories of two such individuals: Barbara Lightner and Jess Anderson. Between Lightner’s and Anderson’s interviews, the pieces of the larger mosaic of gay life in Madison in the second half of the twentieth century come into focus. From the lesbian softball leagues to the “party hardy” crowd, who populated the earliest gay bars in Madison, Lightner’s and Anderson’s oral histories convey the vibrant, revolutionary, and sometimes dangerous nature of living as an out-LGBTQ person in Madison.

Born in 1939, Barbara Lightner came to Madison for graduate school in English Literature. But after completing her degree, she soon realized that she wanted to leave the “ivory tower” of academia for the grittier life of a community organizer. By 1980, she had become the coordinator of Madison Community United, which eventually merged with the Gay and Lesbian Center (now known as OutReach). As coordinator, Lightner led grassroots organizing campaigns and worked behind the scenes with politicians in the City of Madison and in the State Legislature to pass monumental pieces of legislation, namely the 1982 statewide anti-discrimination law and the 1983 “consenting adults” law, which legalized sex between any two consenting adults. While today the legal basis and moral reasoning behind these laws are rarely questioned, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, organizers from the right-wing “moral majority” specifically targeted liberal cities like Madison that passed the earliest legal protections of LBGTQ people. 

In 1975, Madison became part of the first wave of communities around the United States to pass an ordinance that outlawed discrimination based on sexual orientation. However, in the years after, inspired by Anita Bryant’s national efforts to attack laws protecting the rights of LGBTQ people in the 1970s and 1980s, Reverend Wayne Dillabaugh, the minister of Madison’s Northport Baptist Church, began an effort from the right to repeal Madison’s anti-discrimination ordinance. For community organizers in Madison focused on gay rights like Barbara Lightner, Dillabaugh’s efforts threatened to undo the progress they had been fighting to achieve. So, they dug in. In her oral history, Barbara Lightner goes into detail explaining how Dillabaugh and the LBGTQ community pushed for control over the city of Madison. He would organize his own events, such as a God and Decency Rally including “Skydiving for Christ,” an event where born-again Christians jumped out of planes to signal their devotion to Jesus Christ. Meanwhile, the LBGTQ community began to organize at the ground level. At St. Francis House, 240 members of the LBGTQ community came together to form the United, which spearheaded the organizing efforts that eventually stopped the repeal of the anti-discrimination ordinance. As historian R. Richard Wagner notes, Madison was the first targeted city in the country to successfully stop the moral majority’s efforts to repeal anti-discrimination laws. 

Roughly a decade earlier, Jess Anderson had sat in the same basement room of St. Francis House. In 1969, a group composed of exclusively gay men, including Anderson, formed the Madison Alliance for Homosexual Equality (MAHE). The group would go on to organize around Madison and the University of Wisconsin-Madison’s campus. As Anderson discusses in his oral history, the group’s efforts culminated in the first national conference of gay people at Memorial Union on Thanksgiving weekend of 1971. The “Thanksgiving Conference” included workshops on strategies for coming out, sex, and a variety of other subjects, but it also became a stark illustration of the myopic view of the gay community at the time. In his oral history, Anderson talks about how all women and people of color who attended the conference boycotted the main plenary session of the conference in protest of the conference overlooking their place in the LBGTQ community. In doing so, Anderson’s story of early LBGTQ organizing gives us modern day listeners a look into how the notion of intersectionality became such a key issue within queer and gender studies. 

While both Lightner and Anderson include their experiences with community organizing, their oral histories include so much more. They paint a picture of LBGTQ life in Madison, which often included fun, rowdy times. Anderson, who took part in the “party hardy” gay bar scene, talks about their importance in Madison. He says that Rodney Scheel’s bar, The Back Door, became one of the first places where LBGTQ people and allies could drink, dance, and have a good time without any awkward stares or threats of violence. 

In Brittingham Park, Lightner and Anderson both recall attending Rodney Scheel’s other claim to fame, his MAGIC— Madison Area Gay Interim Committee — picnics. Lightner talks about how Brittingham Park would fill with hundreds of members of Madison’s LGBTQ community where people would meet, dance, collect signatures for petitions, listen to speeches, and drink— there was a five-dollar cover charge for unlimited beer. Perhaps more than any other stories in their oral histories, it was the days of the MAGIC picnics that Anderson and Lightner recall with the most joy. 

There are many other stories in Anderson and Lightner’s oral histories that could be useful for future researchers or anyone looking to learn more about LGBTQ life in Madison, but I have found that hearing both of their personalities through their stories to be the most memorable part of listening to their oral histories. Jess Anderson speaks about his life as if he is reliving each memory in real time. His voice goes up when talks about the first time he fell in love as a working-class boy in Peoria, Illinois. His voice almost cracks when he remembers all his friends who have died from AIDS. He goes on a diatribe about the future of the soul of the United States. On the other hand, Barbara Lightner does not hold back her disgust about Reverend Dillabaugh and other anti-gay activists. She almost whispers her “hot takes” about the faults of notable Madison politicians. She recalls her days with the United with such passion that you can almost picture how persuasive and unrelenting a community organizer she was. 

By listening to their histories and by hearing their personalities, Lightner and Anderson truly helped change the world. Their names may not be written in national history books like other more famous LBGTQ organizers or politicians, but they made Madison the city we all know today a reality. If not for Barbara Lightner’s efforts as a part of the United, it’s not clear that the anti-discrimination and consenting adult bills would have become law in Wisconsin. If not for Jess Anderson’s bravery and unshakable belief in himself, it’s not clear where the gay bar scene or University of Wisconsin-Madison’s gay community would be. For all that, I thank them. I encourage anyone else to check out their oral histories as a part of the University of Wisconsin’s Oral History Program. 

For this article, in addition to the oral histories of Lightner and Anderson, I depended on R. Richard Wagner’s book Coming Out, Moving Forward: Wisconsin’s Recent Gay History.

To listen to the oral histories in their entirety:

Oral History Interview, Barbara Lightner (0997)

Oral History Interview, Jess Anderson (1095)