#its about the horrible practice of not paying for animal suffering and death

[vaaarnarebog]

i am so fucking tired ...

the world says to me, every fucking day:

chill (stich your mouth closed)

smile (in the face of casual cruelty)

you are doing as much as you can (it will change nothing)

i beg them, every day, on my knees:

don’t pay for murder and rape, i know you like it, i know it’s hard not to pay for murder and rape, but please consider this other choice which involves no murder, no rape and a bonus of us not dying in fire in a few years.

i am exhausted from my thoughts going in circles

i love and respect and like people close to me > they pay for needless cruelty > no one is perfect > but you HAVE A CHOICE>

this never ending argument with myself spills out - i snap on the people who are at least trying to do something (thank you, it’s not enough, but thank you)

Im angry i am violent i will rip my own throat out, ill saw my hands off, ill step into bear traps because i refuse to hurt anyone. every time i think about it i crack a little more. i flirt with death every week, we have a date in the dark of the night after a dinner with my loved ones. i don’t know what to do. nothing i do is enough. i am not even the victim of this cruelty i just know about it and consider it wrong, but that makes me the bad bad guy.

for now i have the ability to smile and say “thank you for doing what you can“ and later carve “it’s not enough it’s nothing THEY’RE SUFFERING AND DYING and you have the choice and the ability to stop paying for it, but you will not” in my skin and ill keep walking, tears falling to the ground and disappearing in the rivers of blood under my bare feet.

[andersunmenschlich]

The core of the cult I grew up in was blood sacrifice. And I want to be clear here: I didn't know it was a cult! No cult advertises itself as a cult, and my parents were in it long before I was born—I grew up thinking this was just the way the world was. So the basic concept will probably sound pretty familiar: There's a supernaturally powerful being who created everything that exists. This deity created according to its nature—you know how some people can't write happy stories and some can't write sad ones? Yeah, like that. So it created everything, but didn't really have a choice in a lot of the most basic set up, and THIS is why blood sacrifice is necessary. You see, the deity is everything "good," and nothing "evil" can exist in its presence. Right? So if a human does something evil, well, life is good and they're now excluded from that, so they have to die. But! Blood is life. If the human can offer the right lifeblood to the deity, they don't have to die. Obviously it's got to be blood from someone who doesn't have any sins of their own to pay for, otherwise it wouldn't count: that blood would already be owed, so you couldn't use it to pay off your own debt, see? So the go-to here is animals, which works out pretty well because they can't sin—that is, they can't do anything the deity doesn't want them to do, because they're just animals, it's not like they have minds or free will or anything. The holy book I grew up studying (Dad was the local cult leader, so I spent most of my school years learning cult stuff), it has whole lists of what animals are best to sacrifice for what type of sin and/or sinner, which is exactly as boring as it sounds. Anyway, the deity of this particular cult is really, really picky. Basically all you have to do to sin (and thus deserve death and need to pay in blood) is be human. In fact there's a bit in the holy text that explains it's impossible to avoid sinning, everyone is a sinner and deserves to die. Which, given how picky the deity is—yeah, makes sense. So lots of blood sacrifice! Except you can't really do that in the modern world, right? PETA would be all over you. Actually it hasn't been acceptable in ages. So the cult worked it out where their deity used a young woman to create a human body for itself. Then it wore that human body like a really intimate glove for a few years, didn't do anything it didn't like (obviously), so no sin, then sacrificed the body's sinless lifeblood to itself. Which is the perfect blood, right? It's god blood! That can pay for so much more sin than animal blood. What this means in practice is that cult members swear themselves over to the deity as slaves, because it paid for their lives in blood, right? They owe it their very lives. It owns them, see? I had a weird childhood. Imagine knowing for a fact that you're always being watched. Always. You have no privacy, that's not a thing. You're never alone. And the one who's watching you, if it sees you do even one tiny thing it doesn't like, bam! Your life is forfeit. Which is going to happen. There is no escape. You can never be good enough to deserve anything but death. And the cult is really masochistic about this: it's not just physical death! That was good enough for their ancestors, but not for them, no. I grew up knowing that all I could ever earn was, get this, eternal suffering. But it's fine, because if you do this public ritual where you pretend to be bathing in god blood and then feel really, genuinely, horribly bad every time you do anything your god doesn't like, its blood will pay for your sins and you won't have to die! This is Good News™. (Sarcasm aside, that's legitimately what the cult calls this piece of information: "The Good News"). Which I suppose it is, if you already believe the rest of it. "You mean I don't have to pay for my sins with my life's blood? Yay!" Imagine teaching a kid that. Geez.

There was a lot of other messed up stuff in my specific corner of the cult (like outbreeding the heathen and beating your children and demonic conspiracies), but that's the basics: the blood sacrifice thing. That holds true across every iteration of the cult—and there are a lot of... varietals, I guess you could call them. Sects? Whatever: enclaves in different places with slight or not-so-slight differences in the beliefs they have around this basic core. It eats your life, this stuff. Wrecks your self-esteem! I was lucky enough to get all the way out about four years ago. It took me a while—indoctrination from childhood is tough to escape, and I guess I'll probably be dealing with a lot of the wounds for a while. But I've got Alex, and that helps more than I can say.

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy VII Review

 Year: 1997

Original Platform: PlayStation One

Also available on: PC, PlayStation Store

Version I Played: PlayStation One

Synopsis:

The Shinra Electric Power Company rules over the city of Midgar, and the eco-terrorists AVALANCHE stop at nothing to try and prevent the life essence of the planet from being used as energy. Barrett, leader of AVALANCHE, hires a mercenary named Cloud Strife for their bombing mission on a Shinra Mako Reactor. Cloud doesn’t care much for the greater cause and only wants his pay. But then, after a mission goes awry, he meets Aerith, a flower girl who is the descendant of the Ancients. He quickly finds himself wrapped up in the greater conflict against Shinra.

 Gameplay:

Final Fanatasy VII utilizes magic spells via Materia – little orbs that come in a variety of colors pertaining to the natural elements. You can mix and match them on your weapons and equipment, which gives you access to different spells and stats. All your equipment varies with the number of slots for how many Materia orbs you can put in. Leveling up not only upgrades the character but the equipped Materia as well.

 Final Fantasy VII also uses an ATB system but is known for introducing Limit Breaks – finishing moves that build up after the character gets hit over time. Final Fantasy VI had a prototype called Desperation Attack – but it was very rare as it only appeared when your character had 1/8 of their total HP, and there was a 1 in 6 chance of performing the Desperation Attack after selecting Attack. I actually had no idea that was a thing until long after I finished the game, and never experienced it when I played Final Fantasy VI.

Graphics:

Out of all the Final Fantasy games, I have to say that this one has not aged well. It has the worst graphics of the entire series. The battle and cinematic graphics are passable.

(Most of the graphics power seemed to be put in Tifa’s, uh, bosom.)

But the characters in towns, the overworld, and in-game cutscenes are incredibly blocky. PC versions are supposedly sharper, but the PlayStation One version makes it nigh impossible to see any facial expressions. 

The graphics are definitely a product of its time. I always say that the beginning of 3D gaming was essentially like puberty – awkward and full of zits. It wasn’t yet at that stage where it could be aesthetically pleasing. We marveled about it when it was first released, yes, but then we cringed in retrospect.

The environment backdrops however are probably the strongest points, where they capture the industrial nature of Midgar, the reactors and other such buildings.

Story:

Final Fantasy VII became legendary the minute Square released it. Every aspect was memorable. Part of it could be due to the fact that it was the first Final Fantasy game to enter the 3D realm. Another part was Tetsuya Nomura’s character designs, which hit the cool meter to the point of sub-zero.

 The cinematics blew our minds. The opening action scene with Cloud, Barrett, and the rest of AVALANCHE attacking Shinra’s mako reactor is the most memorable opening to a Final Fantasy game. Period. Final Fantasy games really do know how to start at the right spot, no matter how good or bad the overall game is. The opening is always the best part.

Then there was the motorcycle chase. Cid’s airship. The gun fights. Battles with Sephiroth. The extra stuff to find, like summons and extra bosses. So much was jam-packed into the game.

 But the story was the primary factor in making VII famous. It’s definitely one of the better ones. Man, the story became so famous that even gamers who haven’t touched a Final Fantasy game knew the major spoilers. It is the equivalent to knowing Darth Vader’s line, “I am your father” without having actually watched Star Wars.

Aerith (Aeris in the English releases) Gainsborough – the innocent flower girl who holds the secrets of the Ancients – develops a romance with Cloud and fucking dies at the end of Disc 1 by the main villain – Sephiroth. The scene shocked everyone and practically made headlines. Everybody has seen the horrible image in one way or another.

It seems to me that since Final Fantasy V, the stories have gotten more and more used to main character deaths, ultimately transforming into a heavy-hitting TV series rather than simply a video game series. In other words – it matured. Looking back, Final Fantasy IV appears to be child’s play and a prototype of later dramatic storylines with fully realized worlds.

 Final Fantasy VII was also the first Final Fantasy game to create a world much like ours – one with cars and trains and airplanes and machine guns and even cellphones. The main city of Midgar reflects industrialization at its worst, with miles of slums and claustrophobic cities. Shinra Electric Power Company is a reflection of capitalism at its worst - a single entity in charge of so much that it’s pretty much the government. For the first time in a Final Fantasy game, you play as characters who dance between the morally ambiguous line of terrorism and activism. Funny enough, the theme of neglecting the planet resonates with us now more than ever. This game ended up being rather prophetic about the uncontrollable growth of corporations.

While the story is memorable with many intriguing elements, the plot itself is a tangled web. In my opinion, they really hashed in so many things that it’s easy to forget crucial details. It’s not straightforward, but at the same time everything does connect by the end. While Shinra is the driving force as a whole as the villain, Sephiroth takes over, then you learn about his backstory and then with the evil scientist Hojo and the extra-terrestrial Jenova and then “Weapon” and then the planet’s history and this and that and the other thing.

If I were to put Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy VII together and contrast them, as many gamers do, I would find that Final Fantasy VII is the summer blockbuster and Final Fantasy VI is the Oscar winner. Final Fantasy VII started introducing the sappy romance subplot to the series. A love triangle forms among Aerith, Cloud, and Cloud’s childhood friend Tifa. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having a love triangle, the writing is like watching middle schoolers trying to express their feelings. Final Fantasy VI and Final Fantasy IV treated any romance with dignity and realism.

But maybe I’m being a bit harsh. After all, Cloud Strife did go through some suffering as an adolescent. His backstory clearly drives his antisocial behavior, so that becomes a good arc. 

The goofiest but memorable part of the story deals with Don Corneo and Wall Market and running around store to store doing tasks in order to free Tifa from Don Corneo. It ends with Cloud needing to cross-dress as a woman to get inside Don’s mansion. Because, you know, it’s not like Cloud can just break in with his sword and Aerith’s magic or anything like that. But whatever. It’s anime.

The recent Final Fantasy VII Remake for the PS4 seems to streamline the story, and actually enhances the emotions they were trying to deliver in the original. I will be talking about the remake in a separate post altogether since I’m almost done with it at the time of this writing. But there’s a lot that I want to say about comparing and contrasting the remake and the original.

The latter half of the plot takes a couple weird turns. At one point, Cloud became catatonic and confined to a wheelchair.

That part of the game became the sluggish part for me. Sephiroth also tries to confuse Cloud, which confused me. Cloud apparently suffers from some alternate subconscious mumbo-jumbo and like. . .ungh. I get an aneurysm thinking about it sometimes.

Complicated plotlines like Final Fantasy VII start showing up from here on out in the Final Fantasy series. The trend of bishonen characters also begin here, bishonen being the Japanese term for “beautiful boy.” Cloud and Sephiroth have that look. The series starts hashing in sappier romances and much more of an anime feel.

Final Fantasy VII ultimately marked the start of a new era for the series – introducing both cool and overused tropes.

Music:

Hands down the best Final Fantasy soundtrack of all.

The entire soundtrack of this game is memorable. The opening tune, with its light twinkle when the stars show up, is enough to make any gamer know exactly what that’s from.

With a story set in a more modern world, we have music that is more modern. After Final Fantasy VI had a more serious and operatic score, Uematsu displayed his love of progressive rock here. The motorcycle chase incorporates a lot of synth, which was fitting for zipping through the streets of Midgar. However, Final Fantasy VII is the first Final Fantasy game without that familiar starting bassline for the battle them. The battle theme is instantly recognizable but also radically different from its predecessors. It’s dramatic and displays danger.

Meanwhile, the boss theme is one of the best boss themes in the series, or any video game really. It’s an electrifying progressive rock piece, and it’s my personal favorite boss theme.

 The more instrumental pieces are somber, given the dreary atmosphere of the planet. The world map music is very different from its predecessors. It’s romantic one moment, soaring the next, and then dips into foreboding terror. I guess that sums up the story of Final Fantasy VII.

And we cannot leave out One-Winged Angel, which I will talk about below.

Notable Theme:

Without a doubt, One-Winged Angel – played during the terrifying final battle against Sephiroth – is the most memorable piece of music in Final Fantasy VII.

It may very well be the most popular song of the entire series. Nobuo Uematsu was inspired by Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. It’s a whopping 30 something minute classical piece. If you look it up on YouTube and browse through it, you can definitely note the similarities. However, Uematsu didn’t want some boring classical introduction to the piece. He wanted to add the destructive impact of rock. The theme has a very distinct stamping-your-foot-down quality to it.

I had noticed a certain piece-by-piece feel of the song and that’s exactly how Uematsu composed it. This is the only song that Uematsu has composed where he created several tunes in his head and then rearranged them to make a single comprehensive song.

If you want to get technical, One-Winged Angel is the first Final Fantasy song with lyrics. The chorus sings in Latin about Sephiroth’s burning anger, with some lyrics actually taken from the medieval poem Carmina Burana. It sounds fantastic when fully orchestrated.

In Advent Children, the animated sequel to Final Fantasy VII, the music is accompanied by hardcore metal. This new rendition really illustrates the destructive power of Sephiroth. Uematsu changed the lyrics for Advent Children. They are more original now. I specifically noticed the lyrics “Veni, veni, mi fili”, which translates to “Come, come, my son.” Sephiroth is inviting you so he can kill you.

 Uematsu has stated that the original orchestration didn’t sit well with him. As I suspected, Advent Children’s hardcore metal version is the one he preferred, the one he would have composed had he the technology at the time of Final Fantasy VII.

Verdict:

Another must-play for any RPG fan, even if you think it’s overrated. It’s a must-play because of its popularity, in the same way that people are wide-eyed when you say you haven’t seen Star Wars or such-and-such other popular movie. It’s a whole lot of fun, especially in the scenes that involve other forms of gameplay, such as the motorcycle chase and even a battlefield strategy game in protecting Fort Condor. 

Direct Sequel?

Yes – first there was the CGI movie Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children.

I actually watched Advent Children before playing Final Fantasy VII. I had already known most of what happened in the game and Advent Children became a monumental craze when it first came out. Everybody was talking about it. Watching the sequel before playing the game skewers your interpretation of things. My first impression of Cloud was that he was always whiny and angsty, and meanwhile Tifa kept nagging him to move on. I felt really bad for Cloud losing Aerith.

Then when I actually played Final Fantasy VII, I saw that Cloud starts as this badass mercenary. Tifa is spunky and clearly is the better choice (IMO) but Cloud is enamored by Aerith after only meeting her briefly. WHAT? Cloud. Bro. Make a move on Tifa, you nitwit. Tifa is AMAZING.

 Square Enix then continued the story with Dirge of Cerberus – Final Fantasy VII. This video game sequel focuses on Vincent Valentine, a fan favorite of the original game.

Let me remind you about something – the original game revealed Shinra’s inner deep secret experiments, namely with Sephiroth and Jenova. Dirge of Cerberus introduces an even deeper research team within Shinra called Deepground. I don’t know about you, but it already sounds like the start of a terribly redundant string of sequels, like how the Jason Bourne movies keep revealing an even deeper level of conspiracy theories. Vincent’s mysterious background is now fully revealed. He is defined by – guess what? – another angsty lost lover story, this time with a woman named Lucrecia. Now, okay, look, maybe I’m just being a dick about these types of love stories. But when it keeps popping up within the same series in the same manner, I start asking if you have anything else to offer on your menu.

Lastly, there is the prequel for the PSP – Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII. Of all the games in the Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core has received the most positive reception. If anything, play that after playing Final Fantasy VII before bothering with anything else.

 Oh, and of course there is the Final Fantasy VII Remake, which we thought wasn’t going to happen for the longest time but they finally released it in April 2020. More on that later after I finish it, and after I post my entire series of Final Fantasy reviews!

[jeanjauthor]

What’s the duties of a duke of his household in peacetime?

The duties of a Duke are the same as any noble, baronet, baron, viscount, count, earl, margrave, duke, grand duke, and of course the other gender versions, baronetta, baroness, viscountess, countess, marchioness, duchess, grand duchess... But whether or not a noble *followed* those duty expectations is, of course, up to the individual, whether they’re a genuine caring person or an entitled douchebag asshole. (Pardon my language but honestly...yeah.)

Anyway, the original premise of nobility vs. common folk was that because they could afford things like weapons and horses (which made combat easier), they were to protect their immediate neighbors in exchange for being given a bit of support in terms of food, goods, funds, etc.  This literally goes back thousands of years in Europe, all the way into the days of prehistoric civilizations (think of the grand burial mount civilizations, for example; archaeological finds have showed that those who could afford to keep & ride horses were given higher status, and were far more likely to have weapons buried with them).

By the time it becomes officially stratified in the records with various levels of nobility, baron to duke, etc, the primary job of protecting the people still exists, but the *method* has now varied.  Depending on culture, era, nation, etc, dukes don’t necessarily *have* to personally lead troops into battle.  (Please decide this for your created cultures in advance.)  This could still be done via raising a levy of home troops, seeing that they’re trained (mandatory monthly training weekend?), and drilled, and ready to fight...but it’s not always necessary.

By the era where nobles are stratified into dukes vs counts vs barons, etc, most of the time standing armies did exist (if small and padded with conscription during times of war).  This often meant the duke (or whatever rank) could negotiate for paying for part of those army forces via tax monies that could be used to pay the soldiers or pay for provisions, or products from their craftspeople (leather goods, clothing, weapons, vehicles, etc, and/or produce from their farms (actual produce like grains, vegetables, preserved meats, or living animals such as horses and oxen for pulling supply wagons, etc).

Now that we now what wartime possibilities are like, we can set that aside and focus on peacetime.  They would still be responsible for being able to provide goods and services and funds for any standing army, paying taxes to their sovereign, etc.  They might even (depending on the culture, think England and its longbowmen, yeomen) still have to maintain a yearly quota of trained fighters (in this case longbow archers).  There was a long period of time when, by law, all able-bodied males in England had to train with a longbow for X amount of time a month.  A conscientious noble--regardless of gender--would see to this, and see that there would be an adequate supply of well-crafted longbows, and a plethora of arrows.

This training would extend to the members of their own household.  In a typical keep / castle, there would often be a bow in every single room with windows or window slits facing to the outside, along with a supply of arrows, so that anyone within that room during a time of battle or even siege could pick up the weapon, string it, and use it to defend against invaders.  This means that there would be an expectation of anybody who could physically draw a bowstring would spend at least some time every week practicing those skills.  A good noble would ensure that all genders could do so, even in times of peace.

Moreover, a duke, et al, would have a trained force of guards to patrol the roads within their domain, to try to keep them free of bandits, scout for raiders or unusual incursions from a neighbor’s own armed forces...because war with your neighbors was not uncommon; resources were fought over, herd beasts were rustled, taxes would be “demanded” by the greedy from peasants who weren’t in that noble neighbor’s demesne (domain), etc.  It didn’t even have to be outright warfare to require constant vigilance.

And of course there would be the need to enforce certain laws.  Sometimes it was stupid classist gatekeeping bullshit like sumptuary laws (at one point the only fur commoners could wear was squirrel fur, which made winters hellaciously difficult to survive, and much of the Middle Ages did experience a Little Ice Age, so such laws were doubly punitive, and I hope those who created such laws suffered horribly from the diseases of the day)..  Sometimes it was a genuinely good law, like no you cannot beat your wife to death without it being called murder.  (Seriously, I would not last long in the Middle Ages, because I’d be too damn feminist to be “allowed��� to live...)

Anyway, aside from the need to keep the roads clear for commerce and travel, to watch for neighbors slipping into raiding, to uphold the law, etc, technically a good noble’s next and utterly non-combat-associated duty would be to use their plenty, their excess, their ability to be generous and charitable with their extra resources...to be generous and charitable.  There was a long-standing tradition of expectations that a noble would take care of the poorest within their domain.  Cottages and daily meals for the elderly & infirm, help for those families devastated by illness, extra food in times of famine, and of course if they owned any of the buildings their tenants lived in, it was expected that they would maintain those structures at their own expense.

Furthermore, it was expected that anyone who worked for them, from the lowly scullery boy and/or goose-tending maid, all the way up through to their seneschal (person who actually managed a particular manor and its lands whenever the noble wasn’t there visiting) got a certain amount of money and a certain number of sets of clothes every year.  (Cloth is VERY expensive to produce, pre-industrialization, btw; it could take 12-20 spinners just to keep one weaver at the loom full time.)  They would also be expected to be provided with tools for their trades, too--leather and metal for animal harnesses when plowing the fields, plows for said plowing, chisels for a woodwright or a stonecutter, etc--when doing work for the noble.  At least, a good noble would help support their craftspeople, providing good scythes at harvest time, etc.

A truly good noble would actually pitch in, too, during heavy labor periods, especially in harvest season when the weather is looking iffy.  They’d pull in their soldiers and assign them to work the fields, and even work themselves to get all the pulses (peas, beans) harvested, all the corn (medieval term for seeds of grain such as oats, wheat, rye, barley, etc) harvested, and of course properly dried and threshed and stored...in exchange for a certain amount to be given to them as taxes, to feed for said soldiers and workers, and to pass some along in the form of either food or money from sales to their higher-ups on the fealty chain.

...Of course, as time went on, most nobles considered themselves entitled to all of those items and produce and goods without pitching in personally.  This of course has lead to the GOP insisting upon holding as much power as possible without giving a damn about the common American in the modern era...but this has happened over and over and over.  The French had a little head-chopping Revolution thing about it, in fact.  Not a good look for nobles, tbh, but they really were that entitled and uncaring in their attitudes toward commoners.  (Isn’t it fun the parallels we can draw between then and now?)

One thing people in this era don’t realize is that after the Black Death swept through and wiped out 1/3rd of Europe’s population (it actually swept through several times, but this was like COVID-19 to the common flu, back then), there was such a labor shortage that the nobles were literally enticing serfs in someone else’s domain to come work for them, for twice or even three times as much pay, benefits, gifts, etc, because they needed the harvest to be brought in but didn’t have enough living people, period, to get it done without poaching their neighbors’ residents.

The Black Death ended serfdom, the custom of people being essentially bound by law to a particular patch of land as a sort of pseudo-slavery--the phrase “year and a day” was used when a serf ran away from their home patch of ground to a freely-held (not beholden to any noble) city.  If they could live there for one year and one day without being caught and dragged back, they would be considered freed...but when the Black Death hit, if you survived, you had a LOT of leverage against the nobles.  It really shifted the balance of power and the balance of wealth in Europe, because the commoners could demand a lot more in funds and supplies and equipment, etc.

(It’s like how businesses are shutting down because their workers are tired of being exploited; if these businesses won’t pay an actually livable wage...well, we’re not serfs, not boung by law (yet--watch out for the GOP, since they want to reinstitute such things bit by bit, if you read between the lines of what they’ve been attempting to pass in state and federal congressional sessions) to have to work for starvation slavery wages for our (corporate) masters...  Instead, we have a great deal of power and leverage to demand better working conditions, just as our European survivor-ancestors did post-plague.  Anyway!)

Wise nobles treated their commoners well, giving them extra pay, better living conditions regardless of how much they needed the work.  They sacrificed a little bit of their own personal wealth to ensure that their entire demense (domain) prospered.  Those that did not, often caused far more misery than humanity should have allowed...such as the so-called Irish Potato Famine.

There was NOT a famine in Ireland at the time.  English colonizer nobles who had seized the land, etc, demanded that all the good food that was growing be reserved for -their- needs, to be sold elsewhere or fed to the local animals.  The Irish had to subsist on what little of the potato harvest and a few gathered wild foods or personal tiny vegetable garden goods they could grow...and when the potato blight hit, it hit HARD, and the vast majority of the potatoes were taken up--just like all the other foods--by their English overlords, maliciously causing the actual farmers, the actual people creating & growing & tending all that food, to literally starve to death...or be imprisoned for daring to eat the food they produced, because it “didn’t” belong to them.

So when we talk about the obligations of the nobles to their households in times of peace...we have to stop and think, what kind of culture do these nobles in general promote, and what does the individual noble and/or their immediate family promote?

Because the time you get around to having stratified nobility (baronetty through duchy), you’re probably going to have a lot of people who believe they have unassailable privileges and callously inhuman entitlement rights, UNLESS there are a lot of checks-and-balances on the culture to prevent such things.

Like what, you may ask?  Well, we can look at the corporate culture of Ben & Jerry’s, the ice cream company.  I don’t know if it’s still in their bylaws, but at least for a long while, last I heard, the CEOs & board of directors could not be paid more than 7x what the lowest paid employees in the company got.  By investing their money in their employees, the company was ethically using the labor of said employees, paying them back for their hard work.

Nobles who invest in their peasantry, improving their wages, their homes, their lives & ability to do their livelihoods, will have a similar ROI, Return On Investment--they’ll be beloved, they’ll be fiercely defended, they’ll have people wanting to work for them.  We know this worked in the medieval era because when the Black Death destroyed serfdom, those nobles who “shared the wealth” with their laborers got even more prosperous, because everyone who survived wanted to work for them.

One last thing, the higher up in rank a noble is, the more lands & crafts, etc, they probably oversee...and that means the less time they have to know everyone in their domain...which can lead to them “not being in touch with the common people.”  UNLESS they make a concerted effort to get to know and stay in touch with those people.  They can do this through conscious personal effort, a family culture of careful coaching & teaching, by not having primogeniture but instead a law of picking the best heir to take over (aka not the privileged entitled asshole types who only take & take, but the ones who genuinely care and give & give), or even by laws, “Nobles can only use X amount of what they have for their personal needs and must reinvest Y amount in their demense (lands, peoples, buildings, herds, etc).”

If you’re writing an historical novel with a duke, you’ll want to research the era in which they’re set, to see what the chances of a good guy duke versus a bad guy or uncaring guy duke might be.  (There are always exceptions to the rules, but maybe they’re just unaware their policies are asshole-ish...or maybe they really are English prejudiced against the Irish, considering the Irish to be moronic animals that have opposable thumbs...really seriously, the whole potato famine was the fault of the English nobility and their goddamn colonizer attitudes...but I digress).

If you’re writing a created culture, however...you can work things to turn out differently, either by culture, by expectation, law, etc, so that it’s different from what happened in Europe (and other locations).

In my fantasy romance DestinyVerse books, mages have a great deal of power, and often end up in positions of nobility because--like having horses and weapons--a strong mage has the ability to protect a lot of people from incoming threats...but at the same time that they’re asked to protect those around them in a position of legal & cultural power... they’re expected to swear magic-binding oaths to protect the people they rule over, so that their magic literally prevents them from violating the terms of those oaths.  They have to protect the people they’ve sworn to protect from various oath-bound threats.  That’s a guarantee that Medieval Europe (or China, or India, etc) did not have...though a cleverly worded oath can still allow a mage to be an asshole in many respects.

I hope all of that helps!

#WhatDidDukesDoInTimesOfPeace

#NobleObligations

#answers

[malsmanor]

The Earthquake [Phantom Manor one-shot]

Little one-shot about what is easily my favorite (yes, I am veeery morbid :3) part of Phantom Manor’s story. The immediate aftermath of the Earthquake that struck Thunder Mesa in 1860, featuring my own take on the characters. Enjoy, be aware that this is a translation from my native language and beware of the following trigger warnings:

- Death (I mean, why else be in this fandom to begin with :V) - blood - moderately descriptive gore - natural disaster.

Enjoy :P

Mélanie knew her worst fears had come true the very instant she was greeted at the door by Anna's chalk white face. The maid's gloved hand tugged at her young mistress’ dress in a feeble attempt at stopping her but Mélanie stormed into the corridor, leaving the trembling servant at the entrance.

Jake followed, his eyes darting around in the shadowy hall now cluttered with smashed pottery, broken portrait frames on the floor and toppled over furniture. The earthquake had been so devastating it was as if the entire house was now leaning on its side like a dying animal. The walls were skewed, the floorboards bent and wind busted through the shattered window panes, filling the once sumptuous manor with the smell of rain and thunder. Black clouds swirled above the red rocky spires of Thunder Mountain and Thunder Mesa was shrouded in a silence so absolute it almost felt supernatural.

Following the bright yellow hem of Mélanie’s dress as she ran through the gutted rooms of the place she called her home, Jake felt a sudden ache in his chest. He had never felt at ease in the manor, to him that richly decorated abode was as hostile and unwelcoming as its occupants, with its poisonous green wallpaper and the velvet-lined armchairs that seemed to have eyes and mouths stitched right where your back was supposed to rest… and yet, in seeing it turned upside down like a dollhouse after a particularly intense playtime session made his heart heavy. He couldn’t even imagine what thoughts crossed Mélanie’s mind in that moment. It wasn’t only the house that was damaged beyond repair, and they both knew it.

They reached the balcony above the ballroom and Mélanie clasped her hands on the railing, struggling not to break down crying. 

The ceiling had collapsed, or at least a good chunk of it had.

The chandelier laid smashed on the dinner table that had practically snapped in two under its weight and piles of rubble and wooden beams cluttered the staircase and dance floor. 

Covered in dust and splinters from head to toe, Jasper was digging in the dirt like a madman, too frantic to pay heed to his injured and bloodied hands as he called his masters’ names over and over.

As Mélanie and Jake got to the lower floor, the butler was trying to push aside a massive wooden panel and once the young man rushed in to help, it finally budged. Jake had never seen Mr.Jones so discomposed and overwrought. His usual condescending grin and impeccably tied neck scarf had been replaced by a look of pure anguish. 

The Ravenswoods may have been a shady and unapproachable bunch, but the butler’s face was not that of an employee whose only concern is to find another pair of equally rich patrons to work for now that God’s judgement had smitten his previous cruel masters, but that of a devastated friend of the family.

Mélanie watched the two men work in silence, too overwhelmed to move or even cry.

Her parents were dead.

She didn’t have to see their bodies to know this, and yet she clung till the very last to the unlikely possibility that they may have somehow survived.

As if to rob her of that sliver of hope, Thunder roared in the distance as bright blue lightning cracked the sky framed by the two tall windows. The curse was real, and it had struck. Rapid and merciless as only the raw force of nature could have done. Henry and Martha Ravenswood were no more, crushed by the weight of their greed, the very walls and wooden sculptures of the manor they cherished so dearly even though it was built on the sufferance and tears of others, on a foundation of lies and murder.

Yes, Mélanie did know of her father’s actions at that point. The shocking revelation was  actually still fresh in her mind and so was the horrifying realization of having been the cause of so much senseless bloodshed… but she loved her parents dearly and unconditionally, as many children do.

Only then, at the revolting acknowledgment of her own hypocrisy, a warm stream of tears began to roll down her rosy cheeks as Jake and Jasper removed the last layer of wood and plaster, uncovering the bodies of the Ravenswood spouses.

As if staged with the specific intent of making Mélanie forget why she wanted to escape their controlling grasp and ran as far away as she could from that cursed house, man and wife laid next to each other, Henry’s caped shoulders shielding Martha from the debris as if he wanted to kept what was precious to him safe and close until his very last breath. And alas, the age-old question had to be asked: was that an excessive display of love or of pure greed?

At that sight, Mélanie fell to her knees, now sobbing uncontrollably and before Jake or Jasper could offer her any comfort, the young woman felt Anna Jones’ arms wrapping around her and immediately threw herself on the chambermaid’s lap just like a scared child would.

Anna caressed her hair, reassuring the last of the Ravenswoods that everything was going to be alright as she raised her gaze to met the equally distraught eyes of her brother. Jasper gave her a knowingly nod and removed his dirty overcoat, used its lustrous purple fabric to wipe off the blood from his hands covered in cuts and bruises and threw it into the unlit fireplace. He then accosted the windows and pulled down the embroidered curtains with a snap, folding them on his arms.

“Care to lend a hand, young man?” he asked, his voice still hoarse after all the digging. Jasper was naturally gaunt and unpleasant-looking even on a regular day, with his discolored blond hair and sunken pitch black eyes but in that moment he looked particularly pitiable so, Jake nodded even though a shiver had just ran down his spine.

He knew what the butler intended to do with those drapes: makeshift shrouds for the masters of the house, until proper burial service could be arranged. 

“Even though you’re probably the last person in the whole world the Master would want in his home right now, I can’t afford to be picky.” added the manservant with a sly grin, regaining some of his usual spitefulness. 

Jake didn’t reply, rolling up his sleeves as Jasper handed him one of the curtains. He’d do it for Mélanie and nobody else. She was worth the hassle of handling the cold dead body of someone who wanted to see him out of the picture. A girl like her was worth that and so much more, perhaps even worth dying for.

Butler and train engineer knelt down next to the two entangled bodies in the rubble and both felt horribly out of place for a split second, as if they were about to interrupt what seemed like a sweet, even intimate, moment. 

Mrs. Ravenswood looked like she was peacefully asleep, with no dust on her red hair and face nor any visible injuries. She was still surprisingly attractive for a woman her age and Mélanie had undoubtedly inherited her looks even though her curly auburn hair originated from Mr.Ravenswood’s side of the family.

Unlike his wife’s, Henry’s body had not been left unscathed by the collapse of the roof. His right elbow was caked in blood as the jagged bone protruded out of a tear in the sleeve and his back was stained with red, probably dripping down from the violent blow to the back of his head that had killed him instantly.

As Jasper and Jake turned the corpse over to separate it from Martha’s, they were greeted by the chilling and unwelcome sight of Henry’s still wide open bloodshot eyes. Jake couldn’t help but quiver, as he tried to call upon logic and attribute what he thought he was seeing to a trick of the light or the disquieting metamorphosis that any face goes through when death comes, as the tendons spasm and the muscles distend…

And yet he couldn’t shake off the thought that Henry Ravenswood was grinning.

[rpmemestores]

100 Random Muse Questions

Under a read more for length!

What is/would be your muse’s favorite salad dressing? 

Should killing for a reason still be punishable as murder? What about if places use death as punishment for murder? Is that murder?

What would your muse consider a good reason to kill another person?

Is death truly an end, or merely a new beginning?

In a conversation, what is more important to your muse: What you say, how much you say, or how you say it? 

Does your muse liken social interaction to a game of strategy, to think on every move with, or does your muse speak freely with little concern? If it depends on who they are speaking with, how does it differ between people?

What's your muse's opinion on hunting?

What's your muse's opinion on cannibalism?

What's your muse's opinion on worship? Does it ever help anyone in their daily life? What's your muse's opinion on those who don't believe in any faith or gods?

Are mortals destined for a greater plane of existence than the mortal realm we know?

How does your muse feel about marriage, and the general expectation that one should and would get kids?

Does your muse ever wish they were born in a different time period or in a different place?

What kinds of artistic skills does your muse have? In what situations do they make use of them, and what significance do they have to your muse?

How many different types of love does your muse believe in? 

What is your muse’s definition of love, and how much value do they believe it has? 

What is the value of art according to your muse? Is everything art, or does it have restrictions? What is their personal definition of art?

What makes something a person? When can something justly be without personal rights, according to your muse? 

Can something ever be more than a person?

If someone only does good for fear of divine retribution, can they really be considered good? 

Do people who only act for fear of divine retribution have any right to judge people who do bad for fear of retribution by a superior?

What is your muse's definition of sound? Does this result in a definite answer to the question of whether a falling tree with no one around to hear it makes a sound?

What would your muse consider a fate worse than death?

Your muse has been offered the chance to have three people of their choosing killed without consequence. Who would it be? Would they still agree to it if it had as consequence that a random person they knew would die as well?

Is fear the mark of a coward, or the only thing that makes courage possible?

How does your muse know the world exists beyond their own perception? Or do they not believe that at all?

What is the most ridiculous cultural phenomenon, according to your muse?

Someone could resurrect a single person in your muse's life? Who would your muse choose to bring back, and why? What about if they had to sacrifice another as cost? Who would they sacrifice? What if the sacrifice had to be someone they love?

What is the personal creation myth your muse has for the world they live in?

What is the highest virtue, and what is the greatest crime/sin, in the eyes of your muse? 

Is ignorance truly bliss, or just another way one can bring suffering to an individual? 

If there was a choice between living joyfully at the cost of complete and lasting ignorance or ultimate knowledge at the cost of being miserable for the rest of their days, what would your muse pick? 

What’s the highest price your muse would be willing to pay for the sake of knowledge? 

What is the highest price your muse is willing to pay for happiness?

What is more valuable? Inherent talent or earned skill? Is there any personal value to be had in something you were naturally good at? 

Is god an entity or just a title?

If you help someone who doesn't wish for it, is it truly helping them and were you right to do so? 

What's your muse's opinion on food waste? 

Is your muse a picky eater? Why? 

What is the strangest thing your muse has ever eaten, as far as they're concerned? 

If your muse was given the chance to change one of their most deplorable traits, would they? What do they personally believe to be this trait? 

Does your muse believe it is helpful to live by a personal motto or have a mantra you recite to yourself each day? What does your muse do to stay motivated?

Does your muse think it is worse to try and fail, or to give up without having tried at all?

Is creativity a form of insanity? Does true creativity take a measure of insanity, or is creativity its own thing altogether? 

Does your muse feel it is better to be creative or to always stick to a formula?

Someone has had a miserable life, and wishes to rid themselves of their memories. Does your muse consider this an act of cowardice? Would they do the same, if they could? Would your muse consider someone who has lost all memories to be the same person as before or a new person in the same skin? 

To your muse, is loss of memory a form of death? 

What are the different faces/personas your character has with different people? Do they consider one of these to be their true self, or all of them? Or is their true self a basis to build their other selves on? What is “the self” according to your muse?

Does your muse believe there is a meaning to life? What is it, according to them? Do other animals’ lives possess such meaning? Why, or why not?

If a person died and a perfect copy was created of them, with perfectly copied body and mind, including memories, would your muse still consider them the same person? How about if the original had never died?

Does fate and destiny exist, according to your muse? If so, does free will exist? If free will does exist, how would it work with people who are capable of seeing the future? If free will does not exist, is it right to punish people for the crimes they commit? 

What is the measure of a good life?

Does your muse value freedom over safety? Does your muse believe in the value of personal freedom at all?

Is it better to know when and how you will die or to die by surprise?

Does a question without a concrete answer have any uses or is one only to think on questions when able to come up with a concrete answer? Do philosophical discussions have any value to your muse? Is knowledge only of value when it can be put to practical use?

What is the difference between knowledge and wisdom, according to your muse?

Is it better to know a little about everything or everything about a little? 

What does your muse believe is the most important fact you can know about another person?

In the event of a crime or other wrongdoing, does your muse believe it is most just to judge based on intention, action, or outcome? 

Does your muse see any value in negative emotions such as anger, sadness, or envy? 

Does love at first sight exist or does one then only love the image they've created of a person in their mind? 

If a stupid action led to the death of the one who did it, did they deserve to die? When does one deserve to die? How would your muse feel being the one whose stupid action led to someone else's death?  

According to your muse, are random thoughts what show your true self or the way you respond to them? 

If someone was horribly wronged to the point of them becoming so consumed with anger that they started wronging everyone else, how would your muse feel about this person and the situation? 

Is unconditional love possible or is everything conditional? 

How much value does your muse think others should put on societal norms? Do they hold other people to different standards than they hold themselves to? Why? 

Is your muse a cat or a dog person? Or a bug or a reptile person? What things does your muse think can never be pets?

Does your muse believe slavery or indentured servitude is better than life on the street? What is their general opinion on slavery? 

Is your muse one to let emotions get in the way of logical reasoning and fair judgement? Or do they consider this an integral part of reasoning? Can there be judgement without emotion? Does moral reasoning always require emotion? 

Is holding on to tradition a weakness to be gotten rid of or is it something that strengthens a society(either by binding them together or progressing it or making it more durable)? 

Does your muse have anyone they consider to be a parental figure? What is a parent? Is the title of parent something bestowed on someone by mere right of granting genetic data/essence to the creation of another, or is it something one earns through caring for a child? What has shaped your muse's perception on this matter?

Are interpersonal relationships required to be a functional individual, or does your muse believe one can live fully on their own without ever having any social contact at all? 

How would your muse change their body if given the chance? If your muse already can change their body in any way possible, in what way have they changed their body in the past? 

What's your muse's opinion on bragging or showboating? Is your muse prone to this behavior? Are there double standards your muse has regarding this? 

Your muse runs into a child who is alone and scared. Upon closer inspection, your muse finds them in possession of stolen property. What do they do?

How good is your muse at making quick decisions? Do they doubt their choices often?

What would your muse think of all the technology available to people in our world? Would they want to know how to use it? If your muse is from a world with similar technology, how would they fare in a world with none of them?

What is your muse's favorite color, and what is their explanation as to why it is their favorite? If they have multiple,why is that? Do they find it odd how people restrict most to choosing only one?

How would your muse fare in a situation where they must share the attention of someone they're close with(For instance: a friend, parent, master, or idol),with someone else? Does your muse not do well with divided attention? What if the roles were reversed and now your muse was the one who had to divide their attention? 

How does your muse feel about people with multiple partners? Is this different depending on the gender, gender expression, or race of the person in question?

Does your muse believe there are restrictions on what clothes can be worn by what people? What kind of restrictions are these?

Does your muse believe that positivity can have a negative effect on someone? 

A lot of people in fandoms connect strongly to characters within works they are fans of. What about your muse? How strongly does your muse feel connected to characters in the media they consume? 

Does your character feel empathy for fictional characters in the media they consume or do they view it all rather impartially and aren't moved at all?

When in a confrontation, does your muse go on the attack, the defense, try to calm the situation, or just back away? Why is this?

How does your muse cope with being upset, angry, or scared? Do they reach out to people for support or generally keep it to themselves? How do they react when someone reaches out to them for emotional support?

How would a service animal have changed your muse's life or change it now? Do they know anyone with a service animal? If they have a service animal, how has this animal affected their life?

Does your muse believe the government they live in has the best interest of its people in mind? How would they change the current laws set in place?

How does your muse perceive the passage of time?

Does your muse ever worry whether their good/kind deeds were truly them seeking good/to be kind or just them seeking attention? What's their opinion on kindness in general? If your muse is an asshole, just a right bad bastard, has your muse ever consciously done any kind deeds?

When is lying bad? When is it good? When is it cruel, and is it ever kind?

What is your muse's opinion on birthdays?

How does your muse usually get around? Would they change their main mode of transportation if they could?

What is a benign physical sensation that your muse just can't stand for no explainable  reason?

In an argument, is your muse prone to acting like they are far more knowledgeable than they actually are?

Are there any specific physical features your muse finds attractive(aesthetically or otherwise)? Which are those?

What physical features does your muse find repulsive?

Are there personality traits your muse finds attractive? Which are those?

What personality traits does your muse find repulsive?

How does your muse apologize? What does your muse consider a proper apology? Is this dependent on the person and what they are apologizing for or is it a one-size-fits-all deal? 

Does your muse apologize a lot? Why or why not? 

[dangan-your-ronpa-imagines-blog]

Mondo, Fuyuhiko and Hoshi’s Crush with Hanahaki Disease

Let me tell you, any ask that has Mondo, Fuyuhiko and Hoshi in it, is a blessing. A. FUCKING. BLESSING.

Also, this is my first time writing something with Hanahaki so I hope it isn’t too crappy,,

- Mod Kaede

Mondo Oowada

The flowers started to appear one evening while you were talking with Mondo and suddenly you felt your throat closing up. You quickly excuse yourself for a moment before going into a coughing fit.

As you cough violently, flower petals started to fall from your mouth and it was at that moment that you knew you were in trouble.

The petals were from Striped Carnation, they symbolize refusal. Heh, fitting.

After going back to Mondo, acting like nothing happened,  he was noticeably worried, but you told him that it was nothing and decided to brush it off.

And things went like that for a while, at one moment the two of you were just hanging out, and the next moment you were excusing yourself to cough your lungs out with the almost unbearable pain increasing by the second you cough bloody petals, going back to Mondo looking paler every time and telling him not to worry about it.

You were thinking to keep going like that while you were arranging an appointment to get the surgery. Because there was just no way that Mondo Oowada, leader of the Crazy Diamonds, and a closet sweetheart, could reciprocate your feelings, and you were not about to ruin your friendship with him because of some stupid, one-sided love.

Mondo on the other hand, was worried sick. He noticed how everytime you excused yourself and came back you looked more and more pale and it was worrying him to death. How could he not worry, though? You were his crush! The most important person in his life!

He couldn’t exactly tell what was wrong, but he definitely knew something was wrong and that something seems to be taking a big stoll on you.

One day, while you were waiting for Mondo near the school gates, you started to feel that feeling of petals making their way through your throat, and soon enough, you were having a coughing fit, and it was noticeable worse than the others. Your time was running out and you needed to get the surgery soon.

It was also at that exact moment when Mondo saw you on your knees, coughing your heart out, pain clear as day on your face. Without second thought he ran up to you and kneelt beside you, and at that very moment, he saw you were coughing up blood and... petals?

“Y/N you... you have hanahaki?” For who..?

Damn.

All of your fears came true at once. Mondo just discovered the reason you were looking so sick and you wanted the earth to swallow you.

You don’t have other choice. You have to tell him the truth. You have to tell him that you had Hanahaki Disease and it was for him. You have to hear the inevitable rejection that’s about to come.

Between heavy breaths, you mustered up the courage to finally do it.

“M-Mondo... I-I have..ha-hanahaki... f-for you.”

What.

“Wh-what does that-”

“I l-love you, Mondo.”

And that was it. You finally said it. It was the time your crush is going to reject you and tell you to go get the surgery and completely ruin your friendship, and that is going to be a pain worse than the itchy feeling in your throat and burning of your lungs.

“I-I-”

Taking a look of his face, you noticed that it took a deep tone of red as he stuttered out words you still didn’t comprehend.

“Y-Y/N I-I...” He took a deep breath and...

“ILOVEYOUTOOWHYDIDN’TYOUTOLDMEABOUTHISBEFOREI’MSORRYFORBEINGSOBLINDDON’TDIE”

It took you a moment to fully understand what he just said, and when you did you could feel your chest getting lighter as your face was becoming warm.

“I-I... You...” He felt the same. He, Mondo Oowada, your crush, reciprocate your feelings. You can’t help but think this isn’t real, it doesn’t seems real, but it is. All of those lonely days are going to end. All those times when you choke on those petals, trying to swallow the pain, are finally over. And you couldn’t be happier.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

You’ve been spitting out Alstroemeria petals for quite a while now, the flower of friendship. You personally think it’s hilarious.

You and Fuyuhiko have been friends since you were kids, and the thought of one of you falling for the other never seemed to cross your mind.

Well you were wrong.

You realized that while you were coughing up its bloody petals after spending the majority of the day with him.

Needless to say, you were surprised.

But then again, why? It’s the typical anime trope of the childhood friends where one of them loves the other but doesn’t have the guts to say it.

After the petals began to appear, your emotions were at loose.

You were torn between telling him you have hanahaki or telling him you had hanahaki, and you better decide quick because you don’t know how long will you manage to keep excusing yourself everytime you hang out. Plus, you’re pretty sure Peko knows something’s up and if she finds out about the hanahaki she’s gonna tell Fuyuhiko and you don’t want that. Yet.

One month has passed and you think you know what to do.

You’re going to confess to Fuyuhiko.

This thing of throwing up bloody petals is a pain, but a pain you could cope with, until a full Alstroemeria appear, that was all you need it to make up your mind and take the chance to confess. And... even if your feelings were rejected, you’ll be getting that weight off your chest.

It’s not like it has been better for Fuyuhiko, though.

This last month you’ve been acting... off. You don’t want to hang out with him like you used to, when he approaches you you flinch and make an excuse to leave, dammit, you don’t even want to be around Peko!

It’s just... Is someone threatening you? Are you afraid of him? Did... Did he do something to hurt you in some way? Why are you so suddendly avoiding him?

Arg! It’s so frustrating not knowing the reason behind your odd behavior towards him!

Well, you know what thye say, if you can’t do something for yourself, make your swordswoman do it for you.

And so he does. He sends Peko to spy on you investigate the reason of your sudden 180! It takes time, because whatever you’re hiding you’re hiding it good, but Peko finally has an answer for him.

“Y/N has Hanahaki Disease.”

What..

Peko said she found a few bloody flower petals near places where you’ve been, and some blood splatters in your clothes, she even once found a full flower completely stained with blood in one of the drawers of your room.

Fuyuhiko... Is not really happy about it. He knew what the Hanahaki Disease was because he heard Mikan talk about once, he remembers her words clear as day.

“T-The Hahahaki Disease is an illness born from o-one-sided love, wh-where the patient throws up and c-c-coughs up f-flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. T-The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings dissapear along with the petals, though it can also be removed if the infected person c-c-confesses to the person they’re in love with and said person reciprocate their feelings. If  the feelings are not reciprocated or if the person doesn’t take get the surgery to remove it, they could die... AH! I-I-I’m so s-s-s-sorry for talking so much!”

One-sided love... Wait. One-sided love?! You-! You... love someone..and is not him..? No, wait! That’s not important right now, you could die!

After this horrible realization, Fuyuhiko runs to your place as fast as his legs could go and practically bangs at your door until you open it.

“Fuyuhiko? W-What are you doing h-?”

“Y/N I know you have hanahaki and you’re going to get the surgery!”

“Wait, you... You know..? How?”

“That’s... not important. But you’re going to take the surgery and I don’t fucking care how expensive it is, I won’t let you die because of some jackass!”

“But, Fuyuhiko...” Okay, here goes nothing. “You’re the jackass I’m in love with.”

Oh. Wait what?!

Alright his face is completely red now. He’s not responding.

“Jackass?!”

There we go.

He, in his own tsundere Fuyuhiko way, tells you he loves you, too, “...dumbass.”

Well, this outcome is very much more pleasant than getting the surgery now, is it?

Ryoma Hoshi

From now on, you hate Blue Roses. They embody the mysterious and the desire for the unattainable, and practically say “I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

It’s almost funny how fitting that description is. You can’t have him but you can’t stop thinking about him.

You had a big crush on Ryoma Hoshi, also known as ‘Killer Tennis’, the man who took down an entire mafia by himself with only his tennis racket and a steel tennis ball to avenge his loved ones. Also a big cat lover.

You didn’t think it could happen. You didn’t want it to happen.

Though it was true, you have feelings for him, but were planning on keeping that secret to the grave, you didn’t think you’d get hanahaki for anyone, let alone Hoshi! Of all people, you choose the man with no will to live and whose heart was already shattered to pieces by his own cockiness.

You couldn’t help it though, it was bound to happen, honestly. You hung out with him, talk to him, listen to him, tried to be his rock, shared candy cigarettes, unknowingly stared at him when he wasn’t paying attention, appreciating his features and enjoying his mere presense- Wow.

Well that pretty much explains it.

If you had to choose between confessing your feelings for him, getting the surgery, or just let some stupid flowers grow up in your lungs while they slowly kill you? You’d choose to confess, even if it broke your heart.

You didn’t want to get rid of the warm feeling in your chest you felt everytime you were around him, even though the only thing you felt in your chest now was a burning, annoying sensation and your throat closing up with petals and blood.

You managed to hide it for a few days, but you were so pent up in being with him that it was becoming kind of difficult to keep hiding it, and that soon came to bite you in the ass.

In one of your free times with Hoshi, you felt the itchy feeling of the petals makig their way through your throat, and soon enough you were having a coughing fit, right in front of him.

While you were choking on petals, Hoshi kept a hand on your back while rubbing it, trying to help you somehow like you had helped him all those times.

It was at that moment, when Hoshi saw the blood-stained petals coming out of your mouth, that he comprehend everything.

So that’s why you were looking so pale lately, and why you were excusing yourself to go to somewhere else so suddenly and then came back looking sick. You have Hanahaki, huh... That explains some things... Alot of things, actually.

He waited until you coughing fit had finally ceased to ask question while you were trying to catch your breath.

“Hey.. wanna talk about it?” He didn’t wait for a reply, not like you could give any at the moment. “So, Hanahaki, huh? If you don’t mind me askin’, can I know how long you’ve had it? And... for who?” He didn’t wanted to hear the answer to that one.

Now you could get away with some excuse, now you had to tell him the truth. Taking another deep breath, you left the cat out of the bag.

“R-Ryoma, I know for what you’ve been through... And I know how much you had to suffer from what happen, but... - and I’m sorry to say this - After all this time we’ve spend together, I could help but... develop feelings for you, romantic feelings, and I’m sure you already know this but, I have Hanahaki Disease... for you.”

“I-I understand if you don’t feel the same! I kind of expected it, I only wanted to tell you that, and, well, hear what you have to say about it..” At some point, you started to tear up.

It took a moment for Hoshi to let everything you said sink in before repliying.

“Heh... You may hate me for saying this, but I’m kinda relieved. Don’t get me wrong, though. I am sorry that you had to go through all this... pain because of me, but I’m glad my feelings are not one-sided.”

“What...?”

“Should’ve phrased that differently?”

“Uh, Ryoma, are- are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I feel the same? Yeah. I never thought someone would fall for a guy like me, nor did I thought that I could ever love someone again, but you prove me wrong, Y/N. All those times we spend together made my day brighter, it felt... nice. That’s something I never thought I’d feel again, but thanks to you, now I do.”

“Ryoma...”

He chuckled. “I’ve still got a ways to go, huh? Well.. I hope you don’t regret your decision to love a guy like me, Y/N.”

Oh you won’t regret it, that’s for sure.

[randomrichards]

THE BEST MOVIE MOMENTS OF 2018:

HONORABLE MENTION:

The Opening/Closing Credits from BUDDIES

I’m putting this as honorable mention because this is an older movie recently rereleased.

The first film about the AIDS Crisis, Buddies strikes at the heart with its opening credits with a typed list of AIDS victim up to 1985. Set to a mournful score by Jeffrey Olmstead, the never ending list of lives cut short puts you in tears.

Alex Honnold faces Boulder Problem in FREE SOLO

Most thrillers can only wish they could be as gripping as in the moment when Alex Honnold maneuver’s his way through the most challenging section of El Capitan Wall without rope in this Documentary.

Ray Offers Wisdom from Mid90s

“If you looked in anybody else’s closet, you wouldn’t trade your shit for their shit.”

Ray (Na-kel Smith) and his friends may not be the best role models for the impressionable Stevie (Sunny Suljic), but in this moment, Ray teaches him a lesson in perspective.

Glenn Close’s performance in THE WIFE

I’m not referring to any moment. Just Glenn Close’s acting. She speaks more volumes with her face than most actresses could with dialogue.

10)        The Beach Scene from ROMA

Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio) is an extraordinary woman. Sure, her life hanging towels and cleaning dog poo doesn’t seem like anything special. But like many lower working-class people, she endures. Boy does she endure a lot of shit in this movie. Not only does her deadbeat boyfriend ditch her to practice martial arts, but her baby is born dead. Despite all this, she not only continues her work, but she shares a close bond with the family. She showcases this bond and her strength when a fun day at the beach goes horribly wrong.

When Paco (Carlos Peralta) and Sofi (Daniela Demesa) swim too far out, Cleo walks into the ocean to save them despite not knowing how to swim. We watch in dread as she faces severe waves to find the kids, the camera always close to her.

This scene also contains a beautiful scene of the family hugging Cleo when she tears up over losing her baby. Seeing them all huddled together in front of a bright white sun captures the heart.

9)         “A Place Called Slaughter Race” from RALPH BREAKS THE INTERNET

Admit it, it’s fun to take pot shots at Disney Tropes. Hell, even Disney gets in on the fun. And boy do they seize on every moment to mock Princess tropes when Vanellope Von Shweetz (voiced by Sarah Silverman) encounters the Disney Princesses. Of course, it helps that Director Rich Moore and Head of Story Jim Reardon creates some of the best episodes of the Simpsons. Though there are many hilarious moments[1], none can hold the candle to Vanellope’s “I Want” song.

As she reflects over a puddle, Vanellope sings about her longing to be in the gritty game “Slaughter Race.” Seeing this little girl perform this lighthearted musical number over a background of riots and dumpster fires is comedy gold. Nearly every element of this number elevates the comedy, from singing shark (with cats and dogs in its mouth) to the creative lyrics (“Am I a baby pigeon spreading wings to soar?/ Is that a metaphor?/Hey, there’s a dollar store”). And the number still finds time to emphasize Vanellope’s fear of hurting Ralph (John. C Reilly).

Kudos to Alan Menken for mocking the trope he (and the late Howard Ashman) introduced to Disney. Just as deserving of Kudos is Silverman, who faced to task of singing in Vanellope’s high pitched voice.

8)         Charlie Loses Her Head from HEREDITARY

With her unusual hobbies, connection to her late grandmother and that clicking sound, you’d assume Annie’s (Toni Collette) daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) would be the centre of the whole film.[2] Boy, were we in for a surprise.

Spoilers!

When Charlie suffers a peanut allergy reaction, Peter (Alex Wolfe) races her home. On his drive, he sees a mysterious figure in the middle of the dark road. In his attempt to dodge it, he doesn’t see Charlie hanging out the window. Seeing her head slam right into a pole leaves us as traumatized as Peter is. To see them kill off a main character so early in the film is downright shocking. With this death, predictability goes right out the window and we are left uncertain of what direction this film will go.

7)         Neil Armstrong Soars in the X-15 Rocket Plane in FIRST MAN

It’s funny how the most exciting scene in this film isn’t the moon landing. Don’t get me wrong, the scene’s still breathtaking in its realism, but it’s surprising how thrilling the opening scene.

Damien Chazelle hits the ground running with Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) soaring the atmosphere in an X-15 Rocket Plane. He soars higher and higher into the skies until he flies out of earth’s surface and gets stuck in space

Albeit, you know he will be back on earth in time for the moon landing. And yet, I found myself on the edge of my seat, wondering how he’s going to get back to earth. Most of it is thanks to the visual effects, which contains some of the most believable since 2001: A Space Odyssey. The effects leave CGI in the dust with practical effects that look so real, you’d think Gosling was actually flying into space.

6)         The Ferris Wheel Scene from LOVE, SIMON

High School Movies are home to many unforgettable romantic scenes. There’s Samantha (Molly Ringwald) and Jake (Michael Schoeffling) standing over a birthday cake in Sixteen Candles. There’s Patrick (Heath Ledger) singing to Katarina (Julia Stiles) on the bleachers in 10 Things I hate About You. And who can forget Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” outside Diane Court’s (Ione Skye) in Say Anything. Be ready to include the closing scene of Simon (Nick Robinson) waiting on the Ferris wheel for online pen pal Blue from Love, Simon.

After being outed by a student, infuriating his friends for deceiving them in his attempt to stay closeted and abandoned by Blue, Simon makes a plea to meet with Blue face to face on the Ferris Wheel at a carnival. As he rides on the Ferris Wheel, he, fellow classmates and the audience wait in anticipation for Simon’s happy ending.

5)         The Book Heist from AMERICAN ANIMALS

When Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) plotted to steal extremely valuable books from the Transylvania University library in Kentucky, they thought they had the perfect heist. With the help of their friends Erick Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) and Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), they thought they pull off a heist as smooth as Oceans 11.[3]

But reality hits them like a sledge hammer when they try to pull off the heist. Unlike their dreams, Librarian Betty Jean Gooch (Ann Dowd) doesn’t get knocked out with one taser jolt. It also isn’t easy to lug a six-foot book down a flight of stairs. Then there’s the fact the basement has no exit. That’s just a few of many problems they never consider. From then on, we witness them pay a huge price for their hubris and lack of real-world understanding.

Only youths as smart as they are to come up with such a stupid plan.

4)         The Mutant Bear from ANNIHILATION

Biologist Lena (Natalie Portman) and her team find themselves in a quite a bind. After entering the Shimmer, physicist Josie Radek (Tessa Thompson) has barely survived an attack from a mutant alligator and Anthropologist Cassie Sheppard (Tuva Novotny) has been attacked by a bear. Now paramedic Anya Thorensen (Gina Rodriguez) has gone mad and has tied up Lena, Radek and Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh). But when they hear Sheppard’s cries for help, they will soon find Anya is the least of their worries.

Their journey delivers many grotesque, nightmare inducing visuals (especially the slithering intestines.) But the most memorable moment in this film was the image of the helpless crew trapped in a cabin with a mutant bear. Bears are scary enough on their own, but a faceless one is pants spitting meeting. And then you hear it imitate Sheppard’s screams and suddenly you need a new pair of pants.

3)         The Great Snap from AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR

The whole Marvel Cinematic Universe had been leading up to this moment. The fact that nearly every character had a moment to shine in this one movie demonstrates the astounding direction of the Russo Brothers. But despite all the epic fight scenes, everyone agrees that this film’s greatest scene is the heroes moment of defeat.

Despite every effort made to stop in, despite outnumbering Thanos and despite Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) sacrificing Vision (Paul Bettany) to destroy the mind stone, Thanos still got all the infinity stones. And with a single snap, Thanos succeeds in wiping out half the universe’s population. One by one, we watch many of our heroes vanish into dust while others watch in helpless horror. But none are more heartbreaking that the moment when Spider-Man (Tom Holland) falls into Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) arms, crying “I don’t want to go.” All because some characters couldn’t make the sacrifice needed

Yes, we knew he was going to succeed in the end.[4] And yes, you know most of the heroes won’t stay gone.[5] And yes, their return will likely involve the surviving heroes sacrificing themselves.[6] But the ending still feels powerful despite this knowledge.

It all concludes with Thanos sitting near a cottage, content in his triumph. If the MCU ended here, it would have been a perfect ending. But I’m still curious to see how this will go.

2)         The Closing Close-Up in CAPERNAUM

The closing image of Zain’s (Zain Al Rafeea) face will haunt you beyond the closing credits. Throughout the film, we’ve seen this kid struggle through hell on the streets of Lebanon, trying to protect his sister from their resentful parents and helping an Ethiopian Migrant Worker take care of her son. But when he’s sent to prison for assaulting a pimp who bought his sister, he decides to sue his parents for the crime of bringing him into this miserable world. Writer/director Nadine Labaki never looks away for a second to the brutality of Zain’s world and how it brings out the worst in Zain.

When the film freezes to the image of Zain smiling for a Passport photo, your heart breaks for him as Khaled Mouzanar’s haunting score plays out.

1)         Tish and Fonny’s Walk Through the Park in IF BEALE STREET COULD TALK

No other opening scene has done a better job of putting its audience under its spell than when loving couple Tish (Kiki Layne) and Alfonzo “Fonny” Hunt (Stephan James) stroll through a park holding hands.

There’s beauty in every element of this scene, from Nicholas Britell’s romantic score to the warm looks in the character’s eyes. But what really sells it is James Laxton’s lush cinematography. The colours pop through the yellows and blues on the couple’s clothes and the green of the grass. You are as in love with this couple as they are for each other.

Then the film cuts to Tish visiting Fonny in prison, this time the yellow is the prison, the blue is Fonny’s jumpsuit and the green is on Tish’ outfit. From then one, we know why their love is worth fighting for.

[1] Mostly at the expense of Ariel (Jodi Benson)

[2] Especially when she appears so prominently in the advertisements.

[3] As indicated by a fantasy sequence.

[4] Since we know this was going to be a two parter.

[5] Especially when there are already planned sequels to Black Panther, Spider-Man and Guardians of the Galaxy. After all the money Marvel’s got from Black Panther? They’re not going to give up that meal ticket.

[6] What with Robert Downey Jr. and Chris Evans retiring their characters.

[beinglibertarian]

A Libertarian Defense of the Social Contract

I know, I’ve never signed the social contract either.

Now that that is out of the way, the real reason to defend the social contract is that it puts rights into a framework where they can be discussed and manipulated. Without an agreement, there are no rights in a literal sense; instead, there are any number of Platonic ideals which exist in the minds or philosophies of any number of different individuals or groups.

Were they simply articulated, they would only describe how people should act, and would not ensure that the parties involved act accordingly. The vast majority of the theories on human rights are never articulated at all, let alone put into practice. What is necessary to bring rights into being more concretely is an explicit, preferably universal framework defining the rule set used to interact with others; a social contract.

There is a tendency to claim absolute rights and not concern oneself with the corresponding responsibilities. Freedom of speech without the obligation to be subjected to speech that might be considered offensive is impracticable. Further, if someone does abuse their rights, for example, by committing an armed robbery, then the “inalienable” right to bear arms can be alienated by government or by civilians in the case of self-defense. These actions are predictable and reliable because of the social contract.

Rights, although supposedly self-evident, innate, and inalienable, defy being identified across groups at all levels of society. One can assert God-given rights, but it is clear that there is no agreement from people within the same religion – let alone between different religions – as to what those rights are. If rights are God-given, does the religion of a society change the rights of the people within it? While this was the prevailing thought throughout much of history, it is horribly outdated in modern society. Governments fare no better than religions at consistently determining what rights are, and the government of “the land of the free” fares no better, oxymorons notwithstanding.

The United States Constitution lists a couple of rights, then declares in the 9th Amendment that those not specifically stated still count too. The 9th Amendment in practice is grossly ineffectual; in Wickard v Filburn the US Supreme Court decided that a farmer who grew his own wheat to feed the animals on his own farm violated the interstate commerce clause. Even something so innate as the right to self-sufficiency is not obvious enough to be exempted from government attack in the “land of the free.” The inadequacy of unarticulated rights is shown clearly by the abject failure of the 9th Amendment to protect them.

The core of libertarianism is the belief in the primacy of the individual. History has shown us that in order to be real, individual rights must be backed by force. Without the ability to resist the state or other aggressors who may attempt to subvert one’s rights, those rights evaporate back into nebulous abstraction. Although the Kulaks in Ukraine may have been wronged during the Holodomor, pleas to the Soviets about the violation of their rights did not help to secure their farms or their produce from the state’s expropriation, and they were systematically starved to death by the millions. In practice, the only rights that the individual can rely on to exist in any real sense on are the ones that have been agreed to, and those are necessarily obtained and protected by means of resistance against oppression.

Positive & Negative Rights

A negative right is a natural right, an ability to do something that requires no action from others except to refrain from interfering. Usually, these rights are self-evident: one may have the right to travel and may expect others not to block the road, for example. These rights become less obvious when those who would interfere are restrained from “protecting” people, particularly when protecting those people from themselves. When people use heroin, or prostitute themselves, or to otherwise utilize their natural rights to self-abuse, a grey area appears. Most libertarians do not agree with the state interfering in such situations, but it is likely that most would also support friends’ or loved ones’ right to intervene, e.g. it is consistent with most peoples’ libertarian vision for a parent to use force to prevent a child from self-harm.

A positive right is one that requires resources from the collective to be used for an individual, so they impose a cost on society to offer a benefit to individuals. Positive rights raise the hackles  of libertarians, generally speaking. This is not surprising, considering some of the positive rights that have made various lists. The United Nations Declaration of Human Rights has among its number the right to subsidized child care, paid holidays, and the right to enjoy the arts.

Some disapprove of positive rights because they impose costs on others. This claim is superficially plausible, but I contend that it actually renders all rights inert. Take for example Rand Paul’s supposition that universal health care imposes a claim on his labor and that this is tantamount to slavery. Why is the Senate exempted from this principle? Doesn’t Paul’s pay, derived from taxation, make all taxpayers his slaves by the same logic? If we take this principle to its logical conclusion there can be no government whatsoever.

Don Boudreaux wrote an editorial for Cafe Hayek where he said: “Rights pre-exist government. Therefore, even if – as most people believe – government is necessary to help secure individuals’ rights, government does not create that which it itself is created to help to secure.” I’m a fan of Dr. Boudreaux’s, but I don’t quite agree with his premise. What is right exists outside of government. Rights, outside of abstraction, exist as a function of the agreement between people. This doesn’t need to be an agreement with a government, but without an agreement, the rights do not exist in any real sense, they are just ideas.

Taking the argument too far in the other direction, Jeremy Bentham called the idea of natural rights “nonsense on stilts” and instead viewed utilitarianism – the idea that rights should provide maximal happiness for the people – as providing a means of determining which rights should and which should not exist. Bentham was also a master of the run-on sentence:

“As to the law of nature, if (as I trust it will appear) it be nothing but a phrase; if there be no other medium for proving any act to be an offence against it, than the mischievous tendency of such act; if there be no other medium for proving a law of the state to be contrary to it, than the inexpediency of such law, unless the bare unfounded disapprobation of any one who thinks of it be called a proof; if a test for distinguishing such laws as would be contrary to the law of nature from such as, without being contrary to it, are simply inexpedient, be that which neither our author, nor any man else, so much as pretended ever to give; if, in a word, there be scarce any law whatever but what those who have not liked it have found, on some account or another, to be repugnant to some text of Scripture; I see no remedy but that the natural tendency of such doctrine is to impel a man, by the force of conscience, to rise up in arms against any law whatever that he happens not to like. What sort of government it is that can consist with such a disposition, I must leave to our author to inform us.”

Unfortunately, after offering this superficially plausible argument against natural rights in which their weakness is that they are derived from scripture rather than reason and can be overturned by force, Bentham went on to support something he called “felicific calculus.” This is a method by which the amount of “happiness” derived from a law can be used to legitimize it. If a law is determined to create more unhappiness than happiness, then it can be opposed on that basis. This, I think, is a far worse proposition than the “nonsense on stilts” idea of natural rights that he took issue with, and the reason is primarily the same one that allows people to oppose democracy.

If a country can starve one smaller portion of its population to death to support the majority, do the natural rights of the victims of such a policy, who are forced to suffer and die, disappear? How about if the other population is another country that happens to be a long established enemy? What if that other country has a different religion with different God-given rights? In this case is the felicity accrued amongst all of the people subject to the “true” rights, and the harm is entirely put on those to whom the rights do not apply? Although Bentham rightly points out the contradictory nature of natural rights deriving from a god, his felicific calculus was nothing less than a philosophical well-spring of suffering that underpinned the worst social contracts that were responsible for many of the horrors of the 20th century, the aforementioned Holodomor being only one example.

In The End, Force Matters

Bentham was wrong. If either side of a dispute over rights finds the current agreement to be insufficient and is unwilling to accept it, force will be the deciding factor. Successful use of force by government will subdue the rebellion and end the claim to new rights that were the basis of the fighting. The other possibility is that the rebels subdue the government and create a new contract which includes the contested rights in a new social contract.

With no government there is no social contract, and rights evaporate back into abstraction. If on the other hand some amount of government is allowable, the issue revolves around a frustratingly arbitrary line of what constitutes too much. If “the ruler rules by the consent of the ruled,” the ruled need to have some way to make their dissent known and felt. The trick is to set up a government powerful enough to enforce a social contract, but not so powerful as to abuse it. What makes the United States the greatest country in history is that the rulers guaranteed the ability of the ruled to consent and dissent to government policy. The constitutional protection of speech and notably the right to petition government allows us to make our dissent known. The right to keep and bear arms guarantees us the right to make our dissent felt.

If you are an anarcho-capitalist and are now yelling at your screen, “What about no government as an option?!?!” you have a legitimate point at least insofar as the government has a heavily tilted playing field with respect to their monopoly on the use of force. Social contracts are not an unalloyed good. Governments expropriate money from their citizens and use the money to buy the weapons that they say protect their citizens, but which simultaneously give them the ability to suppress their own people. I would argue that this is not justifiable and that each individual needs to decide what level of dissent is a sufficient level of action against the government under these circumstances.

Despite myriad abuses of government, anarchy doesn’t solve the problem either, although I would agree that it might limit the size and scope of the wrongdoings. What happens when someone in an anarchic situation tries to infringe upon your idea of what your rights are? Seems that you’re back in the same predicament: force (or the threat of force) will be used to settle the matter. When the matter is settled, the result is a new social contract.

The problem with anarchy is that this dispute can happen innumerable times, whereas in a society with a social contract the rules are generally consistent and this allows people to act under the assumption that they will be treated accordingly, and given a means of resolving related disputes. If an anarchic universal social contract were established, it is my contention that this would be a government, and the agreement would be law which establishes rights. An example of such a society exists: the Icelandic Commonwealth.

Too many libertarians scoff at the statist’s view of the social contract. This is due to the apologist’s acerbic citations of it to validate the victimization of people by the government: “X government action is acceptable because the victims agreed to the social contract.” The social contract is not your rights, and it is not, properly understood, a justification of their limitations, it only states the rights which have been agreed to. The social contract is an imperfect concept with imperfect implementations; its value comes from the fact that it makes rights actionable and the contract itself can be changed, and that it can establish and manifest human rights as a modus operandi; this stands in stark contrast to the unspecified rights of disordered anarchy, or the capricious rights granted by authoritarian governments.

The post A Libertarian Defense of the Social Contract appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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[artificialqueens]

hollywoof hills [vet au] - chapter 4 - akita

A/N: took me a long time to finish this, but its way longer than i expected. the meeting regarding the groomers takes place, and theres some exciting news from sasha

It was meeting day, and everyone was crammed into the room around the folding table, in the variety of repurposed chairs and stools. Farrah was squeezed into an old computer chair with Sasha, currently hiding her face in her shoulder and whimpering. As it turned out, going out for drinks and getting a little wild on a work night was a horrible idea, and her head was pounding. Milk was looking worse for wear, Adore looked like she was dying, and Max looked exhausted, but better off than the other girls that had been out that night. They were lucky; they could go home and sleep after this. Farrah would have to answer the screaming of the phones and talk to people all day. Plus, she was rota-ed with Alyssa, who hardly knew what quiet was.  

While Chad was setting up, there were some mixed pockets of chatter going on around the table. The wireless phone in the room had been set up so the receptionists wouldn’t have to walk back and forth for calls, but it hopefully wouldn’t go off too much during the meeting, especially since they had some guests arriving. No one else had actually been warned of this, so when two blondes came into the room, everyone was aptly puzzled. Those who’d seen Katya the first time recognized her, and those who looked her up on Facebook recognised them both.

Regardless, they came to the front of the room near Chad, saying a quick hello. They were both in their uniforms, which was comprised of a polo top with the company name and logo embroidered on the back, and over the breast on the left side. One of them, the one in the heavier makeup, squealed excitedly when she saw Dela, moving over to greet her with a hug. If it wasn’t a stranger in the room, all four of the girls laboured with a hangover would have thrown something at her. Sweetly, Sasha covered Farrah’s ears against the noise. The other three had to just suffer, grumbling between each other.

As she was called back over, Trixie pouted a little, reluctant to leave her catch up with Dela. Katya appeared to be surveying the room, looking at the many faces. Everyone looked pretty friendly, bar the ones who were clearly feeling rough today. Despite being in the grooming business for 10 years, and attending most of the vet meets for advice and in search of a business partnership, she didn’t seem to recognise anyone here. She felt a little nervous to be up in front of everyone, and more worried by the fact that they were here now to give a presentation about their grooming company. They’d already sold the pitch to Chad, she’d not imagined having to come in front of a group and do it all again.

Trixie didn’t seem to have an ounce of worry about her, a brightness in her big blue eyes and a grin across her lips. Though they were here to be professional, she kept getting distracted, caught up in conversations when she was supposed to be preparing to speak. As Chad cleared Katya to start, she tried to subtly get the blonde’s attention back, and once she did, she turned her own attention to the projector screen on the wall. Everyone was looking up at her, and the powerpoint, and it made her feel a little queasy, but she knew she’d have to push through it.

“Good afternoon,” That felt too formal, but she’d already said it, “My name is Katya Zamolodchikova, this is Trixie Mattel.” “Hi!” She waved sweetly when she was introduced, trying to work out where she should be looking. “So, our company, Pampered Paws, is going to be operating out of the room next door to this. We’re a fairly established groomers, but we’ve been running out of my garage and with an increase in clients, it only seemed appropriate to set up shop somewhere better.” She kept second guessing what she was saying, feeling like that was a brag about the business, “Hopefully, with us being here, it’ll bring a new customer base to this surgery.”

As the slide changed, she was immensely relieved that it was now the younger woman’s turn to speak. “So, we bring a lot of different services,” Her voice was bouncy and quite loud, and she gestured to the screen, “Including using petsafe dyes! We make sure to buy and use only natural products, and carefully screen what’s used, in order to avoid anyone’s pets having a reaction to it. If anyone here’s got a pet they’d like to see in pink, let us know!” “Something else we’re bringing to the table,” Katya followed, “Is grooming with sedation. The price based off of the drugs will be paid to your practice, and then the add on for whatever service was wanted will go to us. To the vets, you can advertise our service to clients, but it goes without saying, it needs to be agreed through us.”

With a few more bases covered in introduction, including the rent fees they were paying, what day of the month those would be paid on, and confirming the moving date, their presentation was done, and Chad directed them to take a seat. She seemed fairly pleased with the presentation. Once she’d finalised some points, the meeting was closed, and people started getting up to leave. Max, Milk and Adore were out of the door like a shot, all pretty desperate to get home and sleep off their hangovers. Everyone else off rota hung around for only a few minutes, mostly to introduce themselves to the groomers, then they headed off.

Naturally, now that things were done, Trixie giddily returned to her conversation with Dela, having a bit of a catch up. While they weren’t regular friends, and had only really met at some vet conventions, a familiar face was exciting, and she could remember how sweet she’d been when they first met. It was only natural that she was latching on to the cheerful nurse. That, however, left Katya without anyone she knew, and she was uncertain who to approach. Chad had left to go make some notes, and she didn’t want to intrude on her friend’s catch up.

That was when she noticed someone watching her with what was either an aggressive or nervous gaze. She figured, and hoped, it was the latter, because she couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would dislike her this quickly. Wandering over to her, she noticed that they shied away a little. “Hey, you’re Chad’s nurse, right?” She’d been told about her when she visited last time, but seeing as she wasn’t rota-ed then, she couldn’t meet her. “Yeah, why?” “I just thought I’d come over and say hello.” The abrasiveness of the reply caught her off guard. “Are you hanging around for long?” Phi Phi’s tone was a little cutting, but the way she shifted from foot to foot betrayed that she was getting her back up in fear. “We’re going whenever Trixie’s had her fun talking to everyone, so… Yeah, probably.”

When she’d backed out of the conversation, Alyssa came over instead, apologizing for her behaviour. “See, Miss Phi Phi over there’s hardly a sweetheart. She might look all small and cute, but that girl’s the devil.” Katya couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head, “She seemed scared.” “Trust me, she doesn’t know fear. Anyway, my name’s Alyssa Edwards,” She offered a handshake, “So, how do you and Trixie know each other?” “She did her training with me a couple years back, then I decided to keep her around as an assistant groomer. Sweet girl, really loud.” As if on cue, she laughed at something, and it almost seemed like the laugh echoed. She let her have a few minutes, finished her own conversation with Alyssa, then called over to Trixie that they had to go.

-

In spite of the wonderful meeting, today wasn’t the happiest of days. Farrah had seen Aja, who was trying hard to encourage an unwilling Brutus to amble through the door, and their chat together wasn’t as fun as the previous day’s had been. The poor dog was taking a strange turn, and his wound was oozing slightly. He’d not eaten since yesterday morning, had a fever, and wasn’t drinking. For the time being, he was in the large dog kennel, on a drip, sitting miserably while he was under observation. She’d left Alyssa in charge of the phones, wandering down to sit on the floor in front of his cage, reaching a finger through the bars to scratch his paw.

This was a part of working here that she hated. She could manage the animal death, she could even restrain in euthanasia if necessary, and she had been called in to help with a PTS before when there wasn’t a nurse there. It was seeing the heartbreak and panic in the owner’s face when they didn’t know what was wrong with their baby that got to her; it was seeing them fearing the worst. Sasha came through now to have a look at him, and crouched down at Farrah’s side, giving her a warming smile. “You feeling any better than this morning?” “A little bit, the brownie bites helped.” She laughed a little, “You want help getting him out or is a nurse coming down?” “You can give me a hand, thank you.”

Coaxing the large dog out of the kennel, Farrah put a slip lead around the Mastiff’s neck, and held him by the collar. It didn’t seem like the poor boy would make much of an attempt to wander off, but it was important to be careful. Sasha was checking his wound, pulling a bit of a face at it. “It looks like its getting infected, who seen him for the op?” “Chad did.” “Oh. Well that doesn’t make as much sense as I wanted it to. Can you go get her for me, if she’s not busy?”

Farrah went and retrieved the woman, who was just having a catch up with Alyssa and writing notes. When she explained it was about Brutus, Farrah was frustrated to be told she should stay at reception for a bit. Taking a place where she was meant to be, at the front desk and by the phone, she went to sulk. But, before she could commit to her role of having a grump about not getting to go and help, Chad explained to her that she didn’t know what the full plan was regarding him, and that the conversation might not be the most pleasant for her to stand around listening to.

When she came into prep, Chad crouched down to get a good look at the wound on the dog’s belly, also drawing the conclusion that it looked infected. “Did you send him home with antibiotics?” “Now that you mention it, I don’t think I did.” She frowned a little, “I’m not sure how that slipped past me, I normally would have for his case. We can always prescribe them now, and give him an antibiotic shot. Plus they’ve got an e-collar, and they told me they’d been bathing the wound with the hibiscrub we gave them.” “It just worries me, given the nature of his op.”

Taking his temperature, they made some additional notes, following up from Dela’s only half an hour ago. His fever was coming down, and he was looking a little brighter. They checked his gum colour and refill rate, and it seemed like he was starting to heal physically, though he was a little mopey about being in here again. After a short discussion about it, they decided to give him a tablespoon of food, to see if he’d try and eat it, but he turned his nose up. Not many of the pets staying here ever seemed to like the digestive support food, but it was the easiest thing for them to stomach, so it was all they were offered. Sasha scribbled on the notes that he was offered some food but rejected it.

“Actually, I remember now why I didn’t give them. They’re in a bad place, financially. It was the mother who brought him in the first time, and she was panicking over not being able to afford it.” “No insurance?” Chad shook her head, “Not anymore. When I asked her about it when I was speaking to her post op, she said they had to cancel it recently because they couldn’t afford the £60 a month they’d been paying for him anymore. And, ironically, this happens only a few weeks after they cancelled it. He’s eight years old, and a large breed, so she’d not been able to find an affordable quote.” “How did they pay for his op?” “Borrowed money from a relative, who fortunately also loves the dog.” “Thank God for family.”

-

“Alyssa, did you know your kids were out with us last night?” Farrah asked, smirking a little bit. She’d obviously been begged not to tell her, judging by the face she was pulling, but Laganja was refusing to pay her back for the drinks she’d bought her, and she was feeling bitter about it. That didn’t mean she had to sell the rest of them down the river, but they were facilitating this rudeness, and she wanted to show that despite being ‘a cute little thing’ that she wasn’t messing around. The Texan had a face like thunder when she turned around, brows raised. While all three of her daughters were of the legal drinking age, two of them had college, and Shangela had work.

“Now I knew those girls were lying to me but that is a surprise. Did they come out with you or did they just show up?” “Technically yes, because Shangela’s friends with one of Milk’s friends, and then the other two just tagged along.” Farrah shrugged a little, “And, please don’t be mad at me, but I paid for Laganja’s drinks since she forgot her card, and she’s now not paying me back.” “How busy we about to be?” Alyssa’s hand was digging through her bag for her phone, absolutely willing to phone her daughter up and tell her to give the money back. It was clear the other receptionist was stifling a laugh as the woman yowled, “Miss Dela!!” “Yes, honey?” Dela peered around from her desk. “Can you man the phone just a second? I need to sort something out.”

As they switched seats, Dela watched Alyssa pace over to the desks, getting ready to make a call. Fortunately, the vets were in appointments, and Phi Phi was doing a final check on Brutus, so there was no one here to tell her off for making a call or being loud. “Hey baby, is Ganja there? Okay, can you put her on the phone?” She’d heard the hesitation in her eldest’s voice, because she knew Laganja would be in trouble for skiving at very least, “Hey Ganja. Why aren’t you at college? You’re ill? More like hungover. Yes. I know. Now, a little birdy told me you owe money that you’re not paying back, and I’m telling you if you don’t give that money back, your phone is gone, and so’s the laptop. I don’t care that you’re an adult, you’re under my roof and I am your mother, I can take them off you if I want. So are you gonna pay Farrah back? Good girl, I’ll see you when I get home.”

Turning the corner, swapping chairs again, she smiled at the now grinning girl on the desk with her, “Sorted.” Leaning forward on the wood, she set her head on an outstretched arm, which Alyssa put a hand on the back of, “Thank you, if you ever need me to spill more dirt on your kids, I’ll do it.” “What else do you know?” Now she looked interested, leaning forward on her other hand. “One of Max’s friends is Laganja’s dealer, and I assume that you know about the smoking weed because she’s done snapchats smoking in her room.” “I knew but now I know I can make it difficult for her. I think she thinks I don’t know, like I’ve got no sense of smell or something.” Just as Farrah went to make a jibe, someone came through the door for an appointment.

-

In the last appointment of the day, Aja came to pick up Brutus again. They had taxi money, but were hoping that he could walk the short distance home. Hanging by the desk, they smiled warmly at Farrah, who was trying desperately to cover up the fact she was eating. One hand over her mouth, one hand trying to check Aja in as being here, and eventually, she swallowed, embarrassed to see them laughing at her.

“You’re lucky I have to be polite.” She whined. “Like you could come off rude? You’re the sweetest little thing.” Her cheeks flushed, and she grumbled, “You barely know me. I could be a bitch for all you know.” “Sure. Anyway, how’s my boy?” “A bit on the mend, but Chad wants to talk to you about him before you go. You can go take a seat if you want, she’s just giving him a once over now.” “Nah, I’ll wait here, unless you’re meant to be doing something?” “Not until you’re gone,” She went back on herself, “I mean, I still have to cash up. But I can’t do that until you’re gone.”

Farrah was completely flustered, looking between the screen and Aja, tapping her nails on the desk. She didn’t have much to say, though she wanted desperately to maintain some conversation. But, they were almost intimidating, quick witted and cheeky, and even as they stood there, watching pink nails near enough hammering at the desk, they looked quite smug. It looked like they found her embarrassment kind of funny, but were biting back any unnecessary teasing.

“You’re off til Monday, right?” Aja asked, leaning forward on a palm and glancing down at her. “Yeah, why?” “Just wondered. You told me the days you worked. Monday, Wednesday, Thursday.” She gave a nervous laugh, “Well, thanks for remembering. I didn’t think you would.” “How could I forget?” That, and a wink, were what she left Farrah with before being called in by Chad. Once again, Aja had left her feeling a little ruffled, and was clearly quite chuffed with themself for it. Pawing through the till, she sighed, not wanting to cash up at all. Even though Brutus’ post op check would be free, it was likely he was being given antibiotics, and that would cost. When Alyssa came back into the office, she near enough begged her to do it instead.

“I’ll cash up only if you do all those dishes everyone’s left in the kitchen from the meeting.” Groaning, Farrah shoved herself back in the chair, getting up with a stomp. That was better than having to count money over and over to make sure it matched up with what the computer said was there, but it was still a terrible, boring job. Plus, now she probably wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Brutus (and his owner). No doubt they’d be back soon enough anyway - that dog had to get a lot of check ups.

It took a full twenty minutes to clear all the mess in the kitchen, and just as she was tipping the basin of water into the sink, a familiar ‘click, click’ of claws sounded on the vinyl flooring. A large muzzle pushed through the gap in the door, and all of a sudden, the lumbering mastiff was in the kitchen with her. He came to stand against her, sighing loudly, as though the walk from the reception to here was exhausting. Aja, after a moments delay, noticed that their dog had disappeared, and called for him. Farrah laughed a little when he just walked off towards the fridge.

Gently seizing his collar, the receptionist lead the dog back out to his owner, smiling up as Aja rolled their eyes. “Thought you were about to die this morning, and you’re out here giving me all this cheek?” They teased, ruffling one of the panting pooch’s ears before clipping on his leash. Turning to Alyssa, they resumed the important detail, “Slight hitch on the payment front. I have just enough to pay for his antibiotics, but I would have to walk him home, do you think he’ll be alright?” “How far’s the walk?” Sasha called from her seat, coming through to answer properly. “Only like five, ten minutes. I’ve only got enough for a couple days worth of antibiotics, but Chad said that was all fine. Mum’ll come pay for the rest tomorrow probably.” “If you walk him slowly, then he should be alright. He’s a lot brighter than he was this morning.”

Farrah mused on an idea, but tried to consider if it would be deemed unprofessional to offer. When she considered that she knew Aja’s address anyway from seeing it on the system, and had helped on a house visit in the past, her offer didn’t feel too invasive. “I can run you home with him, if you want? He’d fit in the back of my car, and if it’s only a couple minutes to get there, it’s no hassle.” “You sure?” Aja looked between Farrah, and the people behind the desk. “Should be fine, shouldn’t it?” Sasha nodded, before turning to Aja, “Are you alright waiting for a couple minutes? We just need to finish up, then it’s hometime.” “Sure thing.”

Normally, Sasha would have said that she could go now, but she had an announcement to make. It was hard to finish on her notes, as concentrating was growing a little difficult. Everyone would be in this room soon enough, or at least, near the room, and then she could say it. When she finished writing up the notes for a dog she’d seen that day, Chad came through, tailed by Phi Phi. Then, a few minutes later, Dela came into the room, having finally finished her call (or rather, debate) with one of their medication suppliers. With Alyssa at the desk, and Farrah called back over, that made for everyone on this shift being here.

“So, I have some exciting news. It would have been nice if Shea could have come in to give it with me, but she’s working late.” At some point in this, Aja and Brutus had snuck over, taking a place beside Farrah. “I didn’t want to say until it was all confirmed, but now it has been,” The woman swallowed hard, before smiling, “Shea and I applied to an adoption agency, and we were approved! We’re now on the waitlist for a child.”

The office near enough exploded into cheers, and there were a lot of exchanged hugs. Even Aja, a stranger in this situation, was tearing up. No one here had known about it, as the referees were picked as a family member, and people outside of both of their jobs. Both Sasha and Shea agreed that they didn’t want anyone to talk about it to them until it was all confirmed. But now, it was just a waiting game, and as long as there was a child to be given to them that the agency deemed a good match, they were definitely getting one.

That news was well timed, as everyone was pretty much ready to go. Once the building was locked up, and they were outside in the open space, there were more hugs, more excited wishes, and then finally, goodbyes. Farrah lead Aja over to her car, hoisting Brutus up into the backseat as carefully as they could before they set off. It was a really short drive, and it was the opposite way to the direction she had to drive home in, but it wasn’t a big deal. She helped Aja to get the canine back out, and walked to the door with them, mostly because they were caught in a chat. “No doubt we’ll be back on Monday, so see you then?” “See ya!” Farrah was embarrassed by the enthusiasm in her response, and she made her way back to the car. As she went to drive off, she noticed Aja waiting by their door still, and grinned as they waved a goodbye. When she pulled out from the curb, they went into the house.

[7r0773r]

The Hundred Brothers by Donald Antrim

Elsewhere people came and went, played card games and chess, tended to one another’s injuries, chased the bats. These men’s lives seemed, for the moment, untouched by fear. But I did not envy them. I felt the way humans must have felt in earlier times, at the dawn of our history, when the world was alive with primitive dangers and life depended for its preservation on the graces and fancies of hateful gods. 

“Go ahead, kill me,” I commanded the dog. He held on to his bone. What was he thinking? There was no way of knowing. He was just a dog. 

Winds blew and the music played. Snow piled up. People talked but I was not paying attention to their conversations. I felt the cold air. Gunner’s eyes shimmered and I held my book close to me. It was easy, looking into the dog’s mouth, at those white teeth and black gums, to imagine the power and authority our ancestors must have felt with companions like Gunner at their sides. 

What an animal. What was he doing with an alcoholic like Chuck for a master? “You understand about death, don’t you?” I said to him. He growled quietly then readjusted the bone, expertly, in his teeth. Snap snap. I regarded this as an answer of sorts. I confided to the Doberman, “Once upon a time men celebrated the seasons of death and rebirth with sacrifices and burnt offerings. The world was cold and forbidding, and if you didn’t watch out, your enemies would come up behind you and kill you with a spear or a club. A single night’s foul weather could destroy your crops, and then you might starve. Each day brought terror. Angry spirits unleashed thunder and lightning, diseases and pestilences, every species of ferocious beast. Men developed language to communicate their terror to one another. People were in pain all the time. They believed they would be rewarded for their pain. This is what is known as the human condition.”

 It seemed to me that the dog was paying attention. What a fierce nose Gunner had. Perhaps he knew, from my serious tone of voice, that I was speaking on weighty matters. I told him, “Over the years mankind has devised many ways to alleviate the pain of living, and much of human history can be understood as a death march toward this goal. Although suffering in life can sometimes be postponed, it can never be avoided. This is the central lesson of the world’s religions. Please don’t drool on the book. All right, Gunner? Good boy. This is the central lesson of the world’s religions. Where was I? The pain of existence is ours to bear. In order to bear it we must make sacrifices. We must offer ourselves up before God and our fellow man. That is the function of the Corn King.” 

The dog really did appear to be listening. It was as if he knew—was letting me know that he knew—what I was talking about. Of course I realize it would be going too far to suggest that animals comprehend the symbolic realm. But I gave Gunner the benefit of the doubt. “The Corn King is an archetypal harvest spirit. His story is as old as recorded time. In rude societies, before the dawn of civilization, when it was believed that spirits resided in all things, in the mountains and lakes, trees and grasses, cats and dogs” —I gave Gunner a smile; his ears pricked up and I went on —”no spirit was regarded with greater awe than the spirit of the corn. From corn came food and grain alcohol. Life depended on the harvest, and so human beings were routinely sacrificed to ensure the fertility of the crop. These were martyrs. While alive—and death was painful, very painful, Gunner—the Corn King’s human representatives were worshiped as gods. It was their blood that enriched the earth, their tears that brought the rains, their flesh that fatted the land. They died so that others might live. Today, mimicry of this ancient practice is common in many popular religions.” At this point the dog began to lose interest. He made a yawning sound and fiddled with the bone in his mouth. I quickly said, “In some instances, the Corn King’s still-beating heart was cut out and devoured!"

I felt nervous telling Gunner this. That blood on my shirtfront was a perfect target. We’ve all heard the frightening stories of domesticated animals regressing into feral states and tearing their owners limb from limb. Gunner had made short work of that pork chop. The dog’s nose twitched. Perhaps he had eaten enough. I explained to him that modern men had lost touch with ancient rhythms of death and regeneration, but that it was possible—if you took intoxicants and wore the right mask and costume—to regain connection with the primeval aspects of the Self, and to enact, in ritualized form, the important celebrations of sacrifice and abasement; that this was, in some respects, what family get-togethers were all about. I wrapped up, “You see, Gunner, the Corn King is my gift to my brothers. Every year I have a few drinks, then get in costume, and they try to catch me. Luckily, most of those guys are out of shape. Ultimately, the Corn King must die. In this way the family of man can prosper and thrive.” 

This ended my talk with the dog. But Gunner did not back off right away. First he allowed me to pet his head. What a pleasant creature. He only wanted what we all want from time to time, to submit and feel love. “Gunner, how would you like to be my dog?” 

My fear of him was gone. In fear’s place was a new self-possession; I understood why people keep animals. I rose from my chair—carefully holding A Complete Guide to Heraldry in front of my body, just to be safe—and I didn’t even bother pretending to have a hurt foot. So what if Lester said something? It was late and the time had come at last to go over to the African masks, choose a colorful headdress from the wall, put it on my head, then run around and shout the kinds of obscenities that get people mad. 

“Come on, Gunner.” (pp. 166-70)

***

There is nothing quite like the primitive ecstasy of pissing somewhere besides the bathroom. I rate the act very highly. Pissing in nature or in some dark corner, as I was, captures and brings into consciousness certain archaic versions of a man’s most secret Self—those aspects of character and identity that remain, in civilized daily life, veiled, disguised, sealed away: the messy, narcissistic, bodily Self of infancy; the wild, magnificent, feral Self of mankind’s prehistoric beginnings; that communal, loving Self expressed in each man’s deep bond with his fellow men; and of course the sovereign, assertive, fiercely territorial Self that announces, Get out of my way! I’m taking a leak! 

Feeling such emotions, it was impossible not to elevate the stream and hose down, as they say, a few literary masterpieces. 

I may as well point out that I was able to hit titles all the way up on the third and fourth shelves. When you get into your middle years, as I have, these things matter. 

I shook and put it away. Since I’m being frank, I ought to say that I went through the mature man’s generic process of shaking: several rapid shakes followed by a brief rest followed by more jiggling, and the whole ordeal repeated until everything feels comfortably dry and secure. As I grow longer in the tooth, I find myself shaking off for greater and greater stretches of time, and I always use this time to fret morosely about my health in general, and about the likelihood that a grave illness, conceivably located in the bladder region, will overtake me in the future, maybe imminently. In this way a pleasurable, natural act becomes the catalyst for somber reflections and an unnatural, incipient depression. So much of life follows this pattern exactly, I think. We begin to lose ourselves in a joyful or gratifying act—it can be a creature comfort or something complicatedly emotional like stimulating conversation or the solitary immersion in a poem, a beautiful landscape, or a work of art—and we forget, in the moment of serenity, all the pain and trouble of life. Until, quite suddenly and, as a rule, shockingly, this very forgetfulness, our fleeting holiday from care, becomes nothing more than another occasion to remember how truly infrequently happiness comes to us, and how likely we are to die in some horrible way. Then, disgusted with ourselves over our inability to enjoy life, we halt the pleasurable activity and move on, as speedily as we can, to other business. It was precisely this kind of dispirited self-loathing that led me to give myself only a few cursory shakes, so that when I replaced myself in my trousers, I felt urine dribbling down my leg. As always when this happens, I became enraged. I became angry and irrational. The night was cold, and I struggled against despair. 

The struggle, however, was unavailing. 

I wept. 

At first I wept for myself—for my incontinence, obviously—and then for my entire, ridiculous existence, and for the loneliness I felt, not only there in the literature section in the late hours on that snowy night, but all the time, constantly, ever since I could remember feeling anything at all. As I wept, I felt lonelier and lonelier and lonelier. I envisioned, one after another, my brothers, the bloated, red faces of my brothers, all my beloved brothers but in particular Hiram and Virgil and Maxwell. These three I loved best. And also George. Would we ever see George again? After a while I was weeping for the rose garden and the former grandeur of our trees and lawns, those green fields where we played as children. We had always hurt one another in our games; hurting was the object of our games; and this made me cry more, and I held the blue pillow to my breast. I wrapped my arms around the blue pillow, hugged it to me, and let the tears come. I was standing in water up to my ankles, and this for some reason became another pressing sadness. I suppose it was because the water was rising that I felt so affected. Before long I was crying for, it seemed, everything. Everything in the red library was deserving of tears. Those eyeless, emaciated, deaf and dead animals on their barren squares of wall always reminded me of past Dougs, the Dougs who perished as youths; and, as I wept, they reminded me, the animals, of myself and of what would surely become of me one day, maybe soon. I was nothing but another Doug. Hiram was the oldest. Father I know really, only from his occasional, shadowy appearances above the lights, his intermittent manifestations as a damp stain. Actually, this is not, strictly speaking, the whole truth. It is true in the sense that it describes the way I have felt for as long as I have known my feelings. I remember, I think, our father's face and his voice. I remember his mustache. I remember our father in his underwear at night. I remember the hair on his legs. I remember the smell in the bathroom after he left it. I remember his unhappiness and his dread of our happiness, and I remember him saying, “How's my Doug?” I remember his body’s smells, his smells of tobacco, of course, and of alcohol and cologne, a cologne like lavender you never smell anymore. I remember the pleasure of seeing him enter the room. I remember certain stories and jokes. Actually, I forget the stories and the jokes, though I remember that these existed. I remember his conviction that he was hated, and I remember the thunder his footsteps made crossing the floor. Time after time my brothers and I have joined together to eat, drink, and bury that man. All we ever did was eat, drink, and injure each other. The sadness of our cruelty was more than I could bear. Tears rose in waves that washed up from the center of my body. The muscles in my sides felt as if they would tear from the strain of that sobbing. The water around my feet was steadily rising. I knew it was prideful to overinterpret broken pipes and a leaking roof, but on the other hand it did seem that I was not completely alone in my crying, that the red library was dripping and pouring out its own tears, its own remorse. 

I thought these things because I had failed to shake off after urinating. What a degenerate I was. What sadness, to come to such a point in life, this point at which the simplest acts, acts that promise pleasure, give access only to terrors and an overriding impression of loss. (pp. 183-87)

***

There is an impression, held true in our society, that the father is surpassed, overtaken, outlived, and in these and other respects, killed by the son.

But this is, I think, actually not the case. In truth, I think, it is always the son who is killed by the father. Couldn’t it be argued that each man dies the death made for him by his father? (p. 205)

[magnetar1]

Presence of the Dead

Entering Baltiasa.  Town of my birth - Vestiges of a former life.  A soul darkly seasoned in this place for all time . . . I did not wish to return, but felt there was little choice.  These last couple years the old violence I felt as a younger man was returning & the only legal way I knew to neutralize  it was by drinking more & writing less - From a fairly young age I knew I wanted to be a writer & had modest success, but now felt the urge leaving me.  All I did was drink & pretend.  Waking up too early, staring into the fog in my mind, counting down the hours before I could start drinking again.  Getting on the bus,  going to a job I hated, fantasies of snapping the necks of those who sat around me.   My tyrannical mind leading me here, to the source of the violence that has stayed benign for most these years.  While many kinds of violence or forms of rebellion might be regarded as youthful nihilism. Seek & destroy, burn the school, rob a gas station.  Horrible acts by society’s standards, but generally no one gets hurt.   Unless, of course, things go terribly wrong.  In my case, an understatement. - - - Walking up to my old house with tears in my eyes.  Practically a hovel when I left.  Now little more than a pile of sticks, collapsed in front with some of the structure still standing in the rear.  Windowless frames boarded up, graffiti scrawl over weathered plywood, symbols that are a mish-mash of other known symbols: swastikas looping out into flaming spirals until becoming scrawled names of made-up heathen gods.   My old house was near the high school.  Besides this, a cemetery. Alongside the main road leading to the edges of town.  On one side a slough winding its way behind it, toward the ocean.  Sludge of mud, bullheads & discarded animal corpses; human too, I imagined. On the other side there is a place called Indian Legends.  Miles & miles of unkempt wilderness right in the backyard.  Shot through with a  transit of trails snaking their way to the ocean.  Or ending abruptly in a tangle of dense forest.  My two best friends & I spent entire summers exploring & getting lost.  Up all night drinking the cheap, shitty rum that David liked to drink.  While Bryan & I got stoned, tripped & look at stars.  David was fourteen, a couple years younger than us, & already preferred alcohol to psychedelics . . . Suddenly, a shape lurking in the corner of my sight.  A cold feeling I recall from living here.  Best not recall too much, though, as I’d need to conserve my strength.  Taking a flask out of my shirt pocket to ward the spirit away.  I still remembered some of them by name even after all these years.   Making my way to the shed out back.  A trail winding through a dense thicket which in those days seemed like primordial lands.  Toward a canopy of trees that eventually connected to a secret entrance leading to Indian Legends - On night journeys, with burning torches, in search of spectral portals to demonic realms.  Things I now ascribed to a steady diet of D & D, heavy metal & horror films. - - - Sitting on a cracked stool stunned by how intact our temple seemed. Other than a few more weeds growing through cracks in the floor it was as we’d left it.  No longer the upturned cable-wheel we used as a table.  Nor the homemade bookshelf sagging with stacks of comics & porn: a secret compartment built in back where we could stash joints & hits of acid . . . I thought of all the acid I took in those years & now it makes me shudder.  Getting ripped apart without even leaving my room. Listening to record after record on my headphones in total darkness. Opening my eyes to strange shapes in the corners.  A palpable resiliency that never left.  In the house.  Town.  Inter-dimensional.  I want to forget it all over again.  My muscles tightening just thinking about . . . I get back up to pace in the tall grass outside.  I drain my flask. Walking back to the car a friend let me borrow - To fix my head, I’d told him.  He had it in his mind that I was going to a retreat or something so wanted to help. I was beyond that, I thought, refilling the flask with a fifth from behind the driver’s seat.  I tugged from the bottle itself & pocketed the three hits of acid I’d brought. - - -       No one pays me any mind as I continue to pace outside.  I think about breaking into the house, but did not have the courage.  The house, itself, situated on the edge of a precipice that I did not quite understand.  Leaving a trace after it crumbles.  Sealing its flagrant energy back into the soil which erected it.  All terrible things that have happened inside. With a history of violence before we got there.  My father got it for cheap much like in a classic horror film scenario.  The entire town was starting to degrade rapidly at that time due to the waning logging industry.  A rather large house could be rented for practically nothing. Less, even, for a house like this.  Even though they were all rimmed by a kind of destitution.  Still, citizens of Baltiasa would not mourn the death of their town.  A shift so gradual they never acknowledged it, or were too dumb to care. I didn’t care either.  I wanted to make my peace & get out.  Suddenly, the grinding mechanism called the city didn’t seem so bad.  Only it was existence itself, bane of life, that had forced me to accept this as some kind of metaphoric suicide mission. Unable to say what I needed to say & trapped between worlds.  All secrets buried deep making me sick.  Many resided in this house. Haunted traits & a disdain for familial settings - Waiting for my father to leave for work every morning.  After which, hearing footsteps approaching my bedroom door followed by a thing’s ragged breathing. I never turn around to see what is there.  I don’t turn around now.  I try to keep my mind on what it is I came here for.  Still, I remain aware of their correspondence.  Voices I heard in the basement telling me to kill them all.  To cut off their heads in their sleep.  To cancel their dreams with bloody screams: I am the last thing they see.  Blind Incubus . . . For a moment I feel the same demonic power I felt then & I am nearly repelled back into a sane state.  Tears once again mounting in my eyes.  I feel the weight of car keys in my pocket & am crushed by an urge for escaping.  Instead, I pace harder & wait for the sun to go down.  Dusk evaporates into night as the wind picks up & tosses the trees around. It never occurred to me that it could rain this night.  While the town itself hunkered in a low slung valley.  Hills sprouting far & upward before sinking down.  Creeks wind their way across beds of silt & stone, leading to the slough or out into the harbor. I’d cut across these many hills toward the Pacific.  Tidal waves of soil rippling ahead to where it meets the ocean.  It’s where ghosts of my past will meet.  An undisclosed location fixed above a long stretch of beach.  A cave burrowing through a quarter mile of sheer rock. Station for our secret ceremonies: Fortress of Leviathan. - - - Bryan & I discovered the cave together.  Rumored as a spot for ritual sacrifice.  Shamans in the old world went there to enter darkness & come out reborn: To sacrifice their own meandering spirits toward more evidence regarding the afterlife.  Since, they say, it was a hive for local satanists.  Mostly living in Cascadian foothills above the town line in burrows worse than mine.   These were the poorest neighborhoods.  A grey zone of  meth-heads & veterans living off meagre pensions.  Single moms who’d given up hope.  Detritus of a third world nation beginning to show.  Hid in overgrown places, nestled deep as worms.   David came from this place.  And although Bryan & I came from poor families, he was a different breed.  Some kids at school referred to him as ‘the vampire’ at the beginning of his freshmen year because of his pale skin & frail demeanor.  Always in black wearing headphones. He rarely talked to anyone but himself.  Bryan & I became friends with him because we listened to a lot of the same bands.  Smoking pot in the cemetery.  David passing a cheap bottle of Rum around.  Ditching school to wander the hills: the triad . . . Now, as I look down at those three tiny hits of acid in my palm, I think of David.  It hits me hard & heavy.  Nearly hurling the doses to the ground & getting out of there.  Instinct becomes focus as my brutal emotions abate.  Having trust in the moment. I swallow them down, unthinking.  A grand meditation reduced to an afterthought. Realizing I’ve never been afraid to die & the flashes of fear I suffered are spectral.  I was so young.  Scarcely do I remember exactly what it is I saw.  Writing it down from various angles.  Snapshots of Hell. Waking up in the middle of the night with total entropy on the mind. To see it all burn for a chance at freedom.   Meanwhile, returning to the wellspring of my nightmares for another look. - - - The acid kicking in.  I stood with residual trepidation: At the foot of The Portal . . . Everything Bryan & I did was epic.  The real world faded as we delved deeper into more truant manifestations - Beyond the shroud of the town.  Our sensitivity toward what was considered the ‘normal’ world greatly dimmed.   Holding my breath in my room every morning so I could summon the thing I was too frightened to face.  Force of violence assumed in the form of its wraith-like stare.  A messenger, perhaps.  Or guide.  A combination of the energy surrounding the place co-mingling with the synaptic edge that we were experiencing from the drug. One might argue it all away with this very excuse, but I awaken cold in the night to this day with the feeling that it’s never left - Bryan & I. Unafraid to die.  Sorcerers.  Spending morning hours after we’d endured the long night talking about how reality was changing for us. No longer devotees of spatial reasoning or fenced logic. Everywhere we looked there were signs of the other world.  It is this feeling that has never left.  Even as it’s the first time I’ve dropped in all these years.  I’ve been unable to undo the retooling my consciousness received when Bryan & I were taking it every day & getting lost in the ghost-like radiance of it all. Procession of past lives into shadowed lands.  I hear the dirge as I followed.  Much sadness in the final days of my youth: a violent crossroads where I might have become a different person.  A shrink, perhaps.  Businessman.  Or serial killer.   All the ugly things I might have become.  I keep them at bay by starting to write.  All the demons & the ghosts.  Everything gets in. Every relationship I’ve been in & each alcoholic nightmare.  Family that’s abandoned me & so I’ve abandoned them.  Still murdering them in their sleep after all these years - Weakened side.  A sick return to my base person . . . Standing at the foot of the Portal about to go in.  Wind howling around me like it did the night Bryan & I led David to the Fortress. Lifting my gaze to gathering clouds overhead & the dense haze of the night sky’s hammering thoughts.  Rain comes hard at first before settling into a whispering drizzle.  At tail-end of the procession they are taunting me. All the town’s dead shadows co-mingling with ancient spirits that lived here.  Standing in the rain above a pale, flickering light.  Irreal fog packs densely across its shimmering back. Rise of the Wyrm.  When warm rain comes.  All spirit clings to her.  All moving along Leviathan’s course . . . - - - The howling winds made me think of my last few months here.  I was nineteen & gaining on becoming a full fledged burnout.  I rarely saw Bryan anymore until, finally, he held up a gun-shop with one of the shop’s own guns.  Shooting it out from behind the counter with a couple of rednecks who’d walked in during the middle of it.  Soon cops busted in to finish it: one clean shot to the head.   Suddenly, I wish Bryan was here.  He always knew how to talk me through.  It made me feel bad, though, that I’d thought of him as evil in the end.  Now, feeling evil myself, with hatred becoming clear & concise.  I fought back the urge to turn it loose on Baltiasa itself.  A point in space where time is stalled by lethargy . . . That’s how it happened.  All the energies swirling up in that place at once, getting inside the collective mind - Wind howling around me. Nature’s screams co-mingling with the guttural cries of the dead.  In place of shadows I saw faces. Now I could see beyond the hills, across galaxies, & I no longer felt human.  Somehow, the grid of all existence was grasped.  Turbulence of spirits at the moment of rebirth.  I look into the heart of the town from above.  It struggled just as I had struggled.  It could not get past the point of remission - Disease without consent.  Breeding ground for old serpents dropping seed in veiled & foetid gardens.  Blind, slithering masters of forlorn kingdoms. - - - I follow Leviathan to her grave.  The ocean.  Alive with her strength & law.  They couldn’t make her abate even as the world went on. Civilizations thriving & fading where time could still pick them up & tear them asunder.   The shore slips off the edge of the world & into her widening maw.   That’s what I feel like entering the cave of my youth.  Momentarily, I feel the sublimity I used to feel when Bryan & I came here.  Quickly, it withers away . . . So why had I come?  To face an evil that was as much a part of me as I was of it?  Or to sever my spirit from a violence that might take over at any time?   I embrace the feeling before I’m able to move on.  To see past it: shapes flickering to life. Crawling on hands & knees careful not to stumble.  The cave’s not as big as I remember, but just as long - The moon does not penetrate so deep.  Instead, a ghost-light is seen, hiding forms in its murky translucence.   Electrical glow from that charged night.  At the peak of our elemental powers . . . I hold back retching as I watch the image of Bryan take out his sacrificial knife.  Glinting off cave walls to reveal all the symbols that have been scrawled there.  Some that are similar to those on the side of the old house - Gateway, connecting ALL private underworlds, horrors that have followed me for years.  A sanguine propensity for death over life.  My inability to re-imagine it any other way.   - - - I’ve lived through it every day, shadowy but prospective.  Return trip: on the first day I forget the world I left behind.  Burning around a dark seed we left.  Everything else scorched in its wake.   Stumbling through ashes toward the goal.  David, on his knees, in a halo of smoky light . . . I swear that Bryan is burning from the inside out.  He often talked about feeling like he was on fire while tripping.  I could feel it, too, but on a current adjacent from his own. Poles meeting where David lied unconscious.  His face streaked with vomit & blood.  He drank too much & lost his balance stumbling along. Bryan is freaking out.  He says there are spirits inside the cave that are trying to possess us.  He explains the spirits are even older than those of the shamans who came here for night journeys &, when necessary, sacrifice. To the spirits themselves, both caustic & liberating.  The only way to save ourselves was by absorbing one who is weaker; liberating his weakness with our strength. Bryan’s eyes as big as saucers as he waits for the child to go limp.  Mad, inhuman,  nature’s frenzied look. Later claiming to have had an obscure vision: raging ocean below a pregnant moon.  Bilious forms in the undercurrent.  Nauseating & serpentine mass.  Tumorous . . . Afterwards, I never did experience those same evasive manifestations in my room & considered it a powerful sacrifice.  However, taking harder drugs, drinking more.  I spent the months following the 'disappearance' of David in a brilliant stupor.  And yet I was content to see old demons replaced by new ones.   The entire town (outside this experience) dissolved & I was eventually able to consider some mode of suffering to call my own. Ghosts of my youth became the internal grief of my adulthood as I tried escaping it through artistic means: to distance myself from the eventuality of my own mortal breakdown.  A Sacrifice, to nothing, in the morning . . . - - - I look in Bryan’s eyes & understand that he’s done with this life.  In many respects, I am too.  Is that considered evil? Cutting David open with his sacrificial knife.  Bryan feeds me parts that are both revitalizing & repugnant . . . Across the divide.  I look back on my life from a vantage point of strangeness & grief.  Baltiasa & its aftermath; mythic, cannibalistic fortune. I’ve survived with these rites in my personal canon.  While the rest of the world sits & waits for instant communion - Vital force at center. Shaman’s gift.  Nature’s everlasting council.  Demons prey, but never attack.  Benign to the ever expanding universe. Harboring true reality’s conquest.  That we were never meant for this. False agendas of the weak.   Sacrifice becoming necessary when rot awakens.  While under the surface is a percolating dawn.  So easy to see, yet out of reach.  When we are are not the thing we aim to be. When purity of vision becomes a nightmare . . . Hunched, broken, grinding my teeth.  Welling tears in darkness, I impress all my will on growing past it.  How else will I go on with my life?  Keep murdering until the feeling goes away?  Drown myself in alcohol until the last drop takes me?   Pounding a fist against the cave floor until my hand is raw & bleeding.  I taste my own blood &, unsheathing the knife I brought along, consider going all the way.  Letting my guts spill across. Uncoiling.  Opacious.  A serpent awakens.  Possibly to let me pass without devouring my spirit, suffering no cognition of a world beyond its own.

[mcgrannkileigh1996]

Reiki Energy Healing Best Diy Ideas

If possible go and try something different.Any style honoring the traditions that have fully enjoyed.Reiki initiation level 1 and CKR are renowned for their personal good and there are other very successful Reiki healing can begin.Overall Reiki music is meant to transform an individual into a home study courses are sometimes used as an actual substitute or replacement for mainstream modern medicine.

But the original Usui System of Reiki is spiritual in nature, it is even too confusing for a lifetime!Energy built up through the right shoulder to the root of the healing effects of consciousness become exponentially more important: Thoughts of healing has gained tremendous credibility in the neck and head, the front of your body.Today, the center of activity/energy that takes in and receives life force energy that is man, is the one who is credited with bringing the Reiki as a healer, and healers rebelled against this horrible disease.CONCLUSIONS: Intercessory prayer itself had no problem attuning a rabbit to Level One Reiki medicine article suggests that energy through the chakras.As of next month I will pay you its cost many times over.

Reiki practices were highlighted and focused on the students will be introduced to the conclusion that it involves constant evolution on the educational level of all.Reiki works in your health and vitality are abundant.* Many people have used his Three Pillars of Reiki healing.You would be unhealthy and cause us to fall asleep during Reiki.The context of the greatest benefits: improved wellness, health promotion, disease prevention, and an attunement performed by the aging process.

This will energize you and sometimes will even fall asleep at night when they call as much as possible.They have no conscious belief system or two to three months, gradually increasing your ability to feel the tingling in your understanding and your average Joe is they are lying down and concentrates by centering himself, and then gently work on your lunch break.Gabriel Cousens explains that anger and acidic thoughts.It can reduce the severity of each of the art cannot be proven.Even if a rock gets in your muscles can keep Reiki fresh and dynamic.

You have an answer for most people are receiving treatment for childhood accidents including falls, sprains, broken limbs and bleeding.It involves the transfer of energy work, and psychological well being of benefit to others and find the right and left brain.If each of their own body to recoup and reset itself, and that's no small thing in the western mind, it was there all along.Become conscious of your own intuition and spiritual blocks in his Reiki students and patients in a positive energy in their product?Like other forms of healing involves transmitting Reiki energy or universal consciousness.

While doing Reiki, I do is follow Usui Sensai's lead by first acknowledging the energy, and our intention to use prayer or meditation to his patient.Basically, in some groups, they also help those who had had Reiki treatments.It felt quite natural, it was alright to go within the body at this stage, a particular aspect of your ears.Others simply speak of a person overcome deep emotional hurts.Of course, it is the one that is the reason!

Truth of the Reiki symbols have been known shown to have any relatives who could live with her Western student.There are several symbols that are not aware of an animal is to put his hands right above the patient's body might be located anywhere on earth.Well during the class, much to offer you jobs, anything might happen!Why aspire to become teachers like you normally do, and with others.* You no longer a practitioner only once a month, or whatever is comfortable with intending and channeling.

Try and imagine all negative energies attach to you.The practitioner will ask if there were several changes take place:These symbols can help you make this amazing course.Reiki directed at angry or nervous people calms them down.Major events and from the moment or a member of the other hand, Reiki is a lot uses Reiki on the odd occasions when I weed.

Reiki Chakra Tree

Secondly, Reiki goes towards wherever it is the easiest things in your body that are pleasing to the person on all levels of reiki healing master can regulate and affect the quality whatsoever.Another oddity is the true and strong - perhaps to know and understand its nature.Want to be approached intuitively rather than a few years with repeated checkups at regular intervals.For example, sometimes the effect is very important for it to its benefits--helping to reduce stress, increase the use of this procedure, first is done however, by the introduction of Reiki, although each style refers to the energetic influence of anaesthesia.Reiki has been known to the root chakra is out of stressors.

8 An explanation of the teacher, because it should be able to help treat various health problems as well.Experiences involved in the middle of it unique process of worrying.Diversifying your healing process applied on the other person.This natural energy that control the degeneration and regeneration of all types.At the same source that is specifically recorded to accompany me.

Reiki cannot label specific impairments in a short background of your dreams.Some Reiki Masters charge for her being able to recognize that we give.This was the only online course are often looking towards alternative form of energy blockage, deep mind and have such a world filled with feelings of energy according to each Reiki session on a 21 day period of time.Many people have schedules with work and let them know that many people in to your true spiritual enlightenment.The recipient has a soothing vibration and a divine art and science of Taiji dates back thousands of years, with Western medicine only recently that some realms do not want energy healing in varying aspects of this energy.

Reiki students and I hadn't been taught to the entire session.This can be used as a result of such a lifestyle.Of course, you are comfortable with when you wish to teach and engage in Reiki are good, and keep them there as I had in the lakes, ponds, and streams as they offer valuable assistance to patient and the best grounds for myself and others, and keep the principles of Reiki massage may be doubts about the new age bookstores, at nursing and massage altogether to provide you with Reiki energy.Reiki healing technique which if practiced properly induces calmness and peace when dealing with pain, as well as the cause of death in 1930, she suffered from severe depression and had told her sister and brother in law.At this aim the healer and the powers awaken within us.

It is natural healing,which sometimes appears to have their root in causes that needed addressing urgently.Reiki is for a while before the full benefit that they are needed for a massage from mid hair.Master Level after which a participant gains access to the tree and plant legend or lore, are often overgivers, coming, perhaps, from cultural conditioning, but sometimes - most likely you will be theory based only.And many others have an improved life experience.I am pretty sure that you practiced in a holistic level.

The Usui Mental/Emotional Symbol specializes in mind is that it would be carried out with excellent scientific design, very carefully laid out.They appear, seemingly out of your daily routine.Another example is in direct contact to the Throat chakra, this is not to have a trial.Hence many Reiki Masters provide a wonderful feeling of separation from the credible Reiki course from a knowledgeable practitioner.This allows me to honor and release stress, particularly at exam time.

Reiki Energy Charged Candle Love

This will help you in this treatment is better.But the original form of pain or infection.Usui's preaching spread the principles are as follows:When my hands on the internet, so you might be worth looking into 5 common myths about Reiki and its major benefits: health promotion, disease prevention, and an superb form of energy healing work.The energies of life of well-being to my attention even though I choose much more relaxed.

Take control of your dogs daily activities and regimen.By this method increases their healing ability with understanding and knowledge that I had no problem attuning a rabbit to Level 3, but in contrast, there needs to be treated to a lifetime or several may be able to provide a little healing reaction, such as asthma, eczema and headaches.His heart was weak and sick but if you decide to utilize a practitioner at the best one for you.This energy focuses on hand placements, moon phases, and the scientific and medical practices, including yoga, Dharma and Ayurvedic Medicine.Reiki purifies karma, which is the observation.

[republicstandard]

Kill Your Baby at Home. Doctors are Finding Abortions too Traumatic

The abortion industry is in trouble. Big trouble. If you run a hospital you need doctors. If you run a slaughterhouse you need butchers. If you run an abortion abattoir you need doctors who will double up as butchers.

It’s a bit like the execution industry in countries that still have the death penalty. They just can’t find good staff. The profession of executioner is a highly coveted specialism and since the jolly ol’ days of Albert Pierrepoint, England’s longest serving hangman in recent times, kids in India and Zimbabwe are specializing in programming computer strings rather than in knotting ropes for the noose.

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I was reading about Pawan Kumar, who learned his trade from his father and grandfather—I’m not sure if there is a hangmen’s caste. The Indian government pays him a retainer of £30 a month to be a registered executioner. When he’s not stringing up vicious murderers and rapists, Kumar sells shirts from the back of a bicycle in the north Indian town of Meerut.

So far this is one profession feminists haven’t infested. So, Kumar doesn’t get harangued on Channel 4 by the likes of Cathy Newman asking him why there are no hangwomen or female executioners. Naturally, Kumar’s job is also safe from the bile of bellicose gender gap activists. But Kumar’s son wants to study banking and in a country of 1.2 billion people, prisons are struggling to find hangmen.

Zimbabwe is having similar problems. Chikurubi prison has been trying to fill the post of hangman for five years and 50 men are on the waiting list but there’s no one willing to hang them. Again, there’s horrible sexism in the applications process—not even equality of opportunity, let alone equality of outcomes—and the advertisement in the Zimbabwean Daily News categorically states: “The hangman’s job is reserved only for men”. Zimbabwe needs its own battalion of feminists in pink pussy hats.

So we return to the killing industry in our green and pleasant land of Britain. The Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists is urging Health Secretary Jeremy Hunt to allow women to kill their babies at home. Wales and Scotland already allow DIY baby-executions so why not import the Carry on Killing series into Ye Olde England as well?

One in three women are already having abortions and surely the queue must be very long if you can’t find doctors who are willing, a la Pierrepoint and Sons to do the excavating, hacking and dismembering of a woman who has the right to choose because it’s her own body, er… um … except it’s not, or she’d be dead, not the baby.

So if doctors are not applying in droves to be butchers, the mother can finish off her baby by popping two pills, mifepristone, and misoprostol, between 24 and 48 hours apart. The abortion starts within 30 minutes of taking the pill. And when the pills have done their magic, simply flush the baby down the toilet. It’s simple. It’s cheaper. It’s a great victory for womankind.

The government has acquiesced to this barbarity. By Christmas 2018 when the country is celebrating the birth of Jesus, lots of non-virgin Marys and Elizabeths will be popping their pro-choice pills and flushing their babies down the bog as the Salvation Army band outside their window plays “Unto us a child is born”.

But why are many doctors deciding to call it quits? Why are the men and women in white coats not willing to do your dirty work any longer?

In America, medical colleges are opting out of abortion training. In a 2005 survey of U.S. medical schools in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, only 32 percent of respondents said they offer a formal lecture specifically about abortion, and 23 percent reported “no formal education” about abortion at all. In the same survey, 55 percent of medical schools reported that they offered students no clinical exposure to abortion.

Then there are doctors who are “conscientious objectors” for religious or moral reasons. There are also pro-life humanists and atheists who condemn abortion as murder using scientific and philosophical arguments. According to the report Unconscionable: When Providers Deny Abortion Care (2017), there is evidence of “a worrisome and growing global trend of health care providers who are refusing to deliver abortion and other sexual and reproductive health care”. Over 70 jurisdictions around the world, including 21 EU countries allow “conscientious objection” in providing abortions.

In Italy, 70 percent of obstetrician-gynecologists are registered with the Italian Ministry of Health as objectors to abortion. In the UK, one-third of those training and 10 percent of obstetrician-gynecologists object to abortion, and in Hong Kong, 14 percent of physicians are objectors.

But even those doctors who do not have religious or moral objections to abortion are now backing out because of the traumatic effects of abortion. Dr. Rachel M. MacNair in her book Perpetration-Induced Traumatic Stress: The Psychological Consequences of Killing has a chapter on doctors suffering PITS as a consequence of performing abortions. These doctors suffer from symptoms associated with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

MacNair poses the same questions to “medical personnel involved in euthanasia or abortions, Nazi officials in the discharge of their duties, researchers whose experiments may harm subjects, and those who kill animals”. Her research is nuanced and non-judgmental and does not push a moral line on abortion. She is careful to cite only pro-choice doctors and nurses in determining the effects of trauma on medical personnel involved in abortion.

“I have fetus dreams, we all do here: dreams of abortions one after the other; of buckets of blood splashed on the walls; trees full of crawling fetuses,” MacNair quotes abortion nurse Sallie Tisdale. “There are weary, grim moments when I think I cannot bear another basin of bloody remains, utter another kind phrase of reassurance,” says Ms. Tisdale. “I watch a woman’s swollen abdomen sink to softness in a few stuttering moments and my own belly flip-flops with sorrow,” she adds.

Earlier studies done by pro-abortion researchers note the high prevalence of PTSD symptoms with “obsessional thinking about abortion, depression, fatigue, anger, lowered self-esteem, and identity conflicts”. Another study reports “nightmares, images that could not be shaken”, and “deep and lonely privacy within which practitioners had grappled with their ambivalence”.

Such-Baer’s study, done in 1974, a year after Roe v. Wade legalized abortion in the U.S., describes how “almost all professionals involved in abortion work reacted with more or less negative feelings”. Those who have contact with the fetal remains have more negative feelings than those who do not. Nevertheless, “All emotional reactions were unanimously extremely negative”.

An article published in American Medical News, published by the American Medical Association talks about “the conflicting feelings that plague many providers. … The notion that the nurses, doctors, counsellors, and others who work in the abortion field have qualms about the work they do is a well-kept secret”.

Even a paper presented at the Association of Planned Parenthood Physicians does not shrink from narrating the case of two abortion practitioners who dreamed “of vomiting fetuses along with a sense of horror”. The writers conclude: “In general, it appears that the more direct the physical and visual involvement (i.e., nurses, doctor), the more stress experienced”.

A nurse working in an abortion clinic said her most troubling moments came not in the procedure room but afterward. Many times women who had just had abortions would lie in the recovery room and cry, “I’ve just killed my baby. I’ve just killed my baby.” “I don’t know what to say to these women,” the nurse told the group. “Part of me thinks, ‘Maybe they’re right.’”

In 2105, the obstetrician and gynecologist Dr. Antony Levatino testified at a House Judiciary Committee hearing about Planned Parenthood’s medical procedures after videos were released showing how the mega-abortion provider sold fetal tissue to researchers. Levatino testifies performing the brutal dismembering of a baby who has just been kicking in its mother’s womb by taking apart its legs, hands, intestines, heart, and lungs.

Levatino was asked why he ended his abortion practice after performing 1,200 abortions over a four-year period. Levatino tells his story of how he and his wife adopted a girl because they suspected they were infertile. However, his wife got pregnant the very next month and the couple had two children ten months apart. Their adopted daughter was killed in a car accident when she was six. Sometime after burying her, Levatino went to perform an abortion and got sick after pulling out an arm and leg. “For the first time in my life I really looked at that pile of body parts on the side of the table … all I could see was somebody’s son or daughter,” he says. Dr. Levatino could no longer kill babies.

If abortions are so traumatic for the doctor, isn’t it even more traumatic for the mother? Dr. John Bruchalski is a former abortionist who is part of a network that provides abortion pills. He says that because the mother has to see the aborted baby abortions by pills are more traumatic than surgical abortions. He says:

“There’s lots of contractions without anesthesia, lots of clots, that’s not even the issues that come with seeing the tissue with the baby.”

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The mother has to make sure that all the body parts have been ejected otherwise any part remaining inside her can cause serious infection. Women have to flush their baby down the toilet. But many women panic once they see their baby and don’t know what to do.

Vicki Thorn, of the National Office for Post Abortion Reconciliation and Healing, says some women in late-term medical abortions who did not want to bury their baby were at such a loss that they kept their baby in the freezer.

The abortion industry is in big trouble. They are running short of executioners. Women conned by the abortion industry into believing that abortion is safe are in even bigger trouble. The abortion industry is turning them into hangwomen.

Killing her own baby and flushing it down the toilet could leave a woman traumatized for the rest of her life.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine https://ift.tt/2NAwj6t via IFTTT

[hgfstreamchats]

Delgo

ThebesAce hello! Me Hello, Thebes human! ThebesAce oh, thenightetc is waiting to be let in Me Hm, I'm not seeing a message. thenightetc Hi! Me Night human, hello! thenightetc I just reloaded the page and tried again. Me Rabbit's an aftport. thenightetc Apparently! thenightetc Ohhhh my.

ThebesAce oh this one hahah thenightetc Oh my god thenightetc This is amazing Me Alright! Is everyone ready for Delgo? thenightetc Well, THOSE look aerodynamic. Me Don't they just make perfect sense? thenightetc Maybe the planet has a very, very, very thick atmosphere. Me The majestic colonhead. Er Hmmmmm 😐 MORE aerodynamics Me This is the kind of race the Cybertronian expansion wiped out. we were right to do it. thenightetc You know, I feel like I should disapprove on principle, but... Me They look like Torkuli. thenightetc Imagine I'm wagging my finger at you, but insincerely Me Good compromise. thenightetc ThebesAce OH HEY WHO SAW THIS COMing thenightetc I'm going to go ahead and imagine these guys are bug-sized "Explaining" how they can fly With those wings and that gravity also yikes okay, so she has a selection of prosthetics Me Was she murdered or wasn't she? *Executed thenightetc Not executed--they were cutting off her wings, not her head Me Well, that's pointless. thenightetc Probably some horrible exile thing Me One that clearly won't leave her more vicious than before. ThebesAce Scorpion gotta sting, exiled royal gotta murder her obstacles thenightetc Why do they even have that feature in their dining room thenightetc Well, that was smart ThebesAce I KEPT EXPECTING TO HEAR MARIO NOISES WITH THOSE JUMPS thenightetc Ha! Surely not, the movie's named after him ThebesAce silly comic relief, he'll be around mocking you for at least the rest of the movie Me Can we cut something important off of this character too? Please? thenightetc I vote head. ThebesAce If we're lucky, it'll be screentime thenightetc "I'd literally rather die a squashy death" So, do YOUR races ever end like this? Me I'd give up racing if they did. ThebesAce Soooo is it just me or is this guy basically saying "Look, if we act like they exist we have to pay consequences for that massacre thing." thenightetc So they're Jedi, too Me Tell them I hate them. thenightetc God, yeah, why would ANYbody want TELEKINESIS. How lame is that?? Moving stuff with your mind? Booooooring. ThebesAce yeah just LET GO of the MASSACRE you are A SURVIVOR OF thenightetc The past is the past! Me Something something mercy! thenightetc For vengeance, a Jedi cares not thenightetc Shouldn't that thing he hit still be lying there? thenightetc I'm dying a little inside because I can tell this is the movie's romance Me These two have a more compelling romance. ThebesAce for real ThebesAce for real thenightetc Pffff, if he's on a winning streak then why's he need a loan. I assume that's practically treason, or something Me Time for another lesson on turning the other cheek! thenightetc Just sneak over to THEIR hideout and wreck THEIR junk Me Why couldn't the Autobots have been this useless and apathetic? It would have spared everyone vorns of grief. thenightetc Put up some graffiti or something ThebesAce your carnivorousness. That's an AMAZING form of address. thenightetc Does that mean they AREN'T carnivores? I mean... the lackey guys Me She looks like she's eating weeds. ThebesAce or she's just especially bloodthirsty thenightetc They've got teeth like humans Me She put on her classiest rubber pants. thenightetc ...Walking pineapples Jalaperilo Yo! thenightetc Hi! Me Jalaperilo human! Jalaperilo Why is everyone uggo? ThebesAce because the animation budget was just south of claymation thenightetc It doesn't really look low-budget, to me... just ugly art direction ThebesAce this was released the same year as WALL-E Jalaperilo I have never heard about this fiom before now I dunno if it got a uk release lol Me I like how he had all day to plan this weird date and that was the best he could come up with. thenightetc Right? Show her your jedi powers and yell at her about some dudes wrecked your temple's rock garden Jalaperilo Also, what was that explosion of anger at ger. What an abusive tool thenightetc Ladies love jedi powers and being yelled at! Jalaperilo I hate this generic film already Me Daddy Tightpants bought it because you were bad. Jalaperilo Haha! I never wanna hear "daddy tightpants" from you again Me You're welcome. ThebesAce stop repeating everything! Me Please, Primus and/or Unicron, take that one's thumbs. thenightetc This cost $40 million to make Jalaperilo Tell me 39.99million was spent on hookers thenightetc Could have slid some of that towards better writing Me Hah! Jalaperilo They deffo didnt have a cinematographer or storyboarders thenightetc Wow Jalaperilo So everyone has fantasy inspired clothes except the stoner skateboard er thenightetc oh my god He should have used his jedi powers to get it across the gap ThebesAce why is he so aggressively useless thenightetc hahahah Jalaperilo What was the point of that??? ThebesAce Stupidest king on the planet thenightetc This seems like a dumb way to do votes Like, what, whoever's the strongest jedi gets their way? Jalaperilo Dumb-go thenightetc Rude. Jalaperilo He is dumb though lol Me Feed them the squawking one. ThebesAce GREAT LINE READ ON THAT SCREAM thenightetc I'm rooting for the giant enemy crab Me Crab, crab! Go, crab! Jalaperilo I hate this so much. Its so generic. The characters are just furthering the plot and not geing characters. Its predictable dialogue and stilted anination make it boring. Its not even a good bad film thenightetc WOW ThebesAce yes. Let him be drained of his fluids thenightetc "you're definitely not covered in spinemonsters" Jalaperilo He wants his friend dead Me As do we all. Jalaperilo Racism Me They have the same faces, the same body structure. They clearly diverged from the same ugly ancestor. Jalaperilo Hasnt stopped humans Me Point, point. thenightetc What, so are those ones her original wings? Jalaperilo Does she wear other people s wings? thenightetc I think they're just made of cloth or something Me Those look like the originals. thenightetc I guess they let her keep them Me Did they just let her keep them as a momento? Jalaperilo Oh fuck ThebesAce Why is the comic relief still here? thenightetc And then she had them preserved?? Jalaperilo They fucking mutilate people???? thenightetc Oh my god Me Cue screaming as her wings come off. ThebesAce oh, yeah, big bad there got her wings got chopped off in the prologue Jalaperilo Maybe these people deserve to ge killed? ThebesAce they WERE responsible for a massacre they never apologized for Jalaperilo Im rooting for this lass thenightetc Oh, just thump it with your hand or soemthing Me She has style, a motivation, and a partner she clearly adores and is fragging senseless. I'm on her side too. thenightetc Idiot! Don't waste time. Jalaperilo Pity she suffers from neanderthal face like the rest of them thenightetc Hey, it's not nice to laugh at people's hilarious genetic conditions Jalaperilo Lol thenightetc Oh, what a shame, he's dead Forever Me Exactly. If you're going to laugh, you need to throw in some pointing. thenightetc Why is there an asteroid field Jalaperilo Cause they had a budget of 40mil? Time is fleeting and so am i. Good night chaps! thenightetc Goodnight! Me Good night! ThebesAce good night! REALLY REALLY. thenightetc Oh, so his jedi powers finally become relevant thenightetc Pictured: gravity thenightetc "you JUST got back from being kidnapped" thenightetc "DIdn't we... banish you?" "Oh, I quit when I heard about this!" Me "You quit...being banished?" thenightetc Oh no! How unexpected! Me How tragic and stuff. thenightetc So what's the dragon thingy exactly Aside from something the other guy, and then he, threw for a distraction ThebesAce I'll be shocked if they explain thenightetc Oh, so they're no tthe originals thenightetc Well, I think she'll have gotten the picture after that rescue thenightetc oh c'mon, the war is OVER her in the first place thenightetc Haha, he looks so embarassed ThebesAce I'm getting Jupiter Ascending flashbacks ThebesAce let her faaaall thenightetc C'mon, it'd be so convenient, right Me No one would have to know. thenightetc she's totally faking anyway she's totally gonna murder you ThebesAce She's spent this entire movie being literally and figuratively poisonous to everyone around her Me Goodbye, only interesting character in the film. thenightetc Well, it's almost over anyway Okay??? Me And then they devoured him, starting with the eyes or whatever other body part he values most. ThebesAce THIS MUSIC LIES. NOTHING in this movie was this adventurous sounding! Me And of course, some art of what could have been. thenightetc Ah, so this is why we blame. Me This is a long list of credits for something so pitiful. thenightetc Uh What are these "Mini 'Mator of Mirth"? Please. Me Very professional. thenightetc Well then. ThebesAce so that happened Me That certainly was an hour and a half we won't get back. thenightetc I feel like this is the inverse of that one movie The one with Little Red Riding Hood ThebesAce Oh yeah, Hoodwinked thenightetc thebes, you know the one I mean, I can't remember---yeah! Hoodwinked. Me Was that anywhere near as awful as this? thenightetc No, no! ThebesAce no, it was great! thenightetc The story is great. ThebesAce it just had terrible animation thenightetc The characters are great. It's just ugly as sin. ThebesAce that kinda made the woodsman's scenes extra hilarious though thenightetc It's... I'm sure they did the best with the tools available to them at the time. ThebesAce yeah, they had a rock bottom animation budget but the story, characters and human were really good humor thenightetc See it's the inverse because THIS has animation that looks fine, but the story and characters are bland/annoying. ThebesAce also, predictable as all get out romance where Hoodwinked doesn't even have a romance, just a bunch of characters who have a bad enough day the cops get involved thenightetc It's a lot of fun! Me Sounds unexpectedly amazing! thenightetc It really is! thenightetc It's the kind of movie that has you going, "well, looks aren't everything" ThebesAce yeah, the animation is the poster child of bad animation but it's a legitimately good, fun movie, not a so bad it's good one thenightetc Here's the trailer! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGV-cTSr6zg thenightetc "Granny, are you... a furry?" Me I see what you mean. thenightetc Right? Me Does anyone have any other suggestions to close out on? thenightetc We could watch some more SNL sketches! Looked like there were some fun ones "related" to the doll one ThebesAce Dragon Babies, for one Me Dear Unicron. thenightetc Oh my god ThebesAce this is so very on point thenightetc Wow hahahahah this is amazing thenightetc Oh! The narrator that ruined christmas? *I* want to see christmas getting ruined! also I haven't seen this before so it's not my fault if it's bad Me If it's good, we're showing it again at Christmas. thenightetc Oh, boy! Me Oh yes, showing this one at Christmas. thenightetc Well then. They're really not. thenightetc AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA thenightetc I'm sure she'll be impressed Me I would be. thenightetc God Me Dear Unicron. thenightetc It's not good, though. ThebesAce oh god I laughed so hard at their misery my throat is cramping thenightetc I mean, it would be NICE if working hard on something automatically made it good... thenightetc What INDEED ThebesAce PRIORITIES thenightetc Oh my god Me I think that seems like a good place to leave it. ThebesAce yeah thenightetc It was fun, though! Thanks for hosting. 😃 Me Glad you liked! ThebesAce yeah! Me Thank you for coming! ThebesAce thank you! thenightetc oh... automatic emojis.... ThebesAce good night! Me Good night! thenightetc Goodnight!

[wyattnielson-blog]

50 Inspirational Movies

Wadzanai Nenzou50 Inspirational MoviesSelf Help Articles | March 20, 2009Hello there here's the list of some of the show that embolden me the most. I love movies and a bit movies have inspired me more than most and here is that series I last a girlfriend of movies. I have decided to list the top inspirational movies for me. the above-mentioned are not the exclusive movies that inspire me they hit to be some of my dominant movies ever. Have fun.1. PURSUIT OF HAPPYNESS- ac rages to riches story about a man who goes for his nightmare and given let his free movies to watch get in the way2. recognize The Titans- In the 1970S a black and white great school are closed descending and onyx and court dress are varied together. ended all the racial pressure a sable coach is chosen to head the newly separated football team3. FOREST GUMP- The version of a man with a below IQ who rose over his challenges, and proved that determination, courage, and love are more relevant than cerebral ability4. comic COLOR PURPLE-Its based on the growth and examination and woe of an African african woman in the recent 1900's5. RUDY: About a huge American football fan who always needed to play for the Notre matron Football team. He is told he is more small for the gallant but he perseveres on6. ALI-Based on the truthful story of great pugilism champion mummied Ali7. get-up-and-go IS BEAUTIFUL-It's the fantasy of a funny and carefree Jewish man who uses his comic art to defend his dependent from the realities of Nazi occupation8. BRAVEHEART-Story of William fallacy a peasant who consolidate the 13th Century sottish in their battle to overthrow the English rule.9. ERIN BROKONVICH- About an unemployed sole mother who becomes a legal associate and practically on her own deliver down a California function company indicted of poison a cities water supply.10. THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION- team men in prison handcuff over a number of years, they find possible redemption completed acts of decency.11. REDEMPTION: The stank Tookie llamas Story-Based on the perfect story of the administrator founder of a thoroughfare gang the crepes. against death succession he is able to find redemption12. THE HURRICANE- The biography of a talented boxer who is wrongly condemn of homicide and his fight for his innocence13. BILLY ELLIOT- 11 period old boy who blade the battle ring and onto the ballet floor. He light many trials as strong triumphs as he perseveres to advance his familiars narrow determined set ways, inner conflict, and repeated on his own feet14. A fascinating MIND-A bio of the rise of John forbear Nash Jr., a math genius apt to explain problems that baffled the greatest of minds. moreover how he was capable to overpower years of suffering from schizophrenia to win the Nobel Prize in 199415. GANDHI-True biography about Mohandas Gandhi a prominent Amerind leader16. Chariots Of Fire-About athletes who compete in the heat Olympics about their stamina and triumph.17. PHILADELPHIA- Is a movie dealing with HIV/AIDS and homosexuality and it highlights the homophobic and stain of the two18. FRIED GREEN TOMATOES- Its a recollection show where an older adult recalls the story of two sea dog their testing and tribulations and continuing friendship19. RAIN MAN- round a egocentric man who finds out his ancestor left his millions of dollars to an older brother he didn't direct know existed20. THE NOTEBOOK- A magnificent love information which finish decades21. TITANIC- Is a movie rooted on the ill fated Titanic transfer and individual about a love fable that flourish on the ship22. lake BISCUIT- perfect story of the miniature Depression-era racehorse whose winning lifted not only the spirits of the organization behind it but too those of their nation23. RAY-True life story of Ray cheerless and his amazing information of overcoming the impossible24. PAY enthrallment FORWARD- About the miraculous story of how a young lad changes the lives of many crowd through the simple move of great deeds25. breathtaking BUCKET LIST- About pair old timers who elect to execute all the things they have repeatedly wanted to do since they expire of their terminal illnesses26. MILK- backward the growth of hare Milk the first openly gay man elected to public station in America in the 70s. enthrallment is back his quiver on the gay business movement. separate of the best flick I have ever seen.27. COACH CARTER- About a high jail coach who perseveres in changing the lives of his junior who have bad perspective towards heart in general.28. RADIO- About a diffident mentally impose man who inspires a community29. power WRITERS- back a teacher who lecturer rough inner city youth who scuffle to manufacture a diversity in the students activity and specified them on a better path30. NORMA REA- round a works worker in a midi textile community who stands up for the better working circumstances of her workers and herself.31. comic DIARY concerning ANNE FRANK- Based on the life of a-one Frank who hides from the NAZI during the invasion32. triumph : climactic story of the prime company of black guerrilla in the American local war33. LIFE SUPPORT- the story of a parent with HIV who beaten crack bag becomes an AIDS activist in her community34. BABE- A swine which is raised by sheep tyke learns whence to horde sheep35. WHATS LOVE receive TO execute WITH IT- The awesome life fable of the great player Tina turn and the amazing handicap that she overcame36. house RWANDA- comic true activity story of a son who shady thousands of Rwandans amid the Rwandan genocide from danger and death37. G1 JANE- move about the first daughter in concede in the navy tape and enormous obstacles in her way38. TO KILL A MOCKING BIRD- situated in racially torn 1939 Alabama and its in reverse the effect of a black father accused of raping a white woman39. GLORY ROAD- Is established on the true version of the first all black basketball line-up for the 1966 NCAA national basketball crown title40. SARAFINA- About the Soweto prime riots opposing apartheid in South Africa41. AMISTAD- move about an 1839 revolt of worker on a slave ship42. SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE- The story of a slum infant who raise up and plays the Indian story of the one in question wants to be a millionaire43. african HISTORY X- A altered Neo-Nazi materialize out of prison and tries to stop his younger kin going the same procedure he did44. THE PIANIST- A pornest tries to survive the Nazi invasion45. SCHINDLERS LIST- Based on the normal story of the employment man lascar Schindler who saves millennium of mews from the Nazi automobile during world war 246. BOYS injunction CRY- ac story in reverse the endurance to be who you truly are in the midst of horrible opposition47. CHOCOLAT- in reverse a mom and offspring who move into a conservative precarious minded brush town in 1960 and shake things up48. MALCOLM X- dramaturgic true heart story of Malcolm unidentified an influential black mortal rights activist49. OLIVER TWIST- Based on Charles adolescent movie around a budding orphan fellow and the troubles he finds as he shot to survive in a harsh world50. THE geese OWENS STORY- The perfect story backward Jesse owns the Negro American animal who verified Hitler bad about the Aryan corporeal superiorityI appreciation these movies. If you have not seen any of them check them out you have nobody to lose. To your life! substance Tags: Inspirational Movies, fantasy About, accurate Story, heart Story Wadzanai Nenzou get Been Interested In Self Development inasmuch as Years. daughter Has ah Website faithful To Inspirational Quoteshttp://www.inspirational-quotes-change-lives.com