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coochiequeens · 2 years ago

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Another sex offender TIM released into the public.........and given a laptop

Daughter's fury as paedophile father who abused and shared images of her with other sick perverts online before changing gender in prison is quietly released (...and given a laptop by an offender's charity)

By ROSS SLATER

PUBLISHED: 10:47 EDT, 16 July 2023 | UPDATED: 10:49 EDT, 16 July 2023

A paedophile who changed gender while in prison for sexually abusing her own daughter as a child and sending explicit photos of her to perverts online has been quietly released back into the community - and given a laptop by a do-gooding charity.

Claire Fox, 61, who was previously known as Clive Bundy, a father of six, served just seven years of a 15-year jail sentence, before being settled into a tiny market town on the Welsh borders.

Fox, who wears a black wig and floral dresses told neighbours, who knew nothing of her sordid past, that she was an electrician from Bangor as they helped her get settled into her new surroundings and helped her furnish her flat.

Fox's release from prison has appalled her daughter Ceri-Lee Galvin, who bravely waived her right to anonymity, having been abused by her father for nine years from the age of eight.

Revealing her astonishment, Ceri-Lee, 24, told MailOnline: 'My father is not a woman and I refuse to recognise him as such. He changed his gender in prison to make his life there easier.

But now he is out and already up to his usual tricks – conning everyone he meets.

'The fact he is now dressed as a woman makes him more dangerous as young girls are his thing and he has never shown any remorse.

'My father is a highly manipulative man who has attended no sexual offender rehabilitation programmes, shown no remorse for what he has done and openly admits finding children attractive.

'There have been no meetings I'm aware of to tell local schools about his presence, he has no tag and no curfew. He has just been put into this community and given all he could wish for – food, furniture, a home and a laptop.'

Ceri-Lee, now a student paramedic, added: 'I am in no way transphobic and I feel incredibly sorry for people who genuinely need to transition. They face stigma and worse because of cases like this.

'But it should just not be an option for those convicted of sexual offences against children to suddenly say that they want to be a woman.

'This only arose at the end of 2021 when he was due to be moved to an open prison but then had a fight with a fellow prisoner that was serious enough to stop the move.

'That is when he went for the gender change – when he was almost 60, having been a macho man all his life and having had eight children and having never mentioned gender dysphoria before.

'Now he is being indulged by everyone. The prison service gave him make-up and women's clothes and now a charity for the armed forces have provided him with so much stuff when all he did was a short stint in the Territorial Army in his 20s.

He has conned them. He was never a soldier. The whole thing is outrageous.'

Fox arrived in a sheltered accommodation block for older people in a tiny town at the start of June.

She was given new furniture, a television, printer, washing machine, crockery and a laptop by the armed forces charity SSAFA because she had once been in the Territorial Army.

Fox's neighbour Lyn Robinson, 74, said: 'My first impression was that this person was very cheerful and amenable, assuring all us older people that they'd be no trouble. They seemed very confident despite the outlandish appearance.

'I thought she might find it difficult fitting in so I really took care of her. I gave her clothes and even lent her £70, which is a lot for a pensioner.

'I took her to the food bank at the Baptist Church where she was given loads of stuff including vouchers for a butcher in town and for a coffee shop.

'And we went to a concert at St Edward's Church where I introduced her to the vicar. I had no idea of her history.

Fox's decision to change gender before being released from prison, provoked a storm of protest when it was revealed in April.

She chose the same name as gender-critical campaigner and media pundit Claire Fox, now sitting in the House of Lords as Baroness Fox of Buckley.

Campaign groups fear that by changing their gender, sex offenders can effectively whitewash their past and could avoid detection under the Home Office's Disclosure and Barring Service, set up to protect children from abusers.

DBS uses official paperwork such as a passport or driving licence to carry out their checks, both of which can prove difficult to check after choosing a new name and gender.

The potential loophole is provided by the Gender Recognition Act (2004), which created a 'sensitive applications route' for trans people.

Ceri-Lee added: 'The victim liaison officer told me the only reason I was being informed about the name and gender change was because he had given permission for this to happen.

'It's allowing him to say that Clive Bundy never existed, that my abuse never existed and it is clearly a danger to children which is why I decided to speak out.'

Fox is not the first sex offender to change gender while in prison

A rapist who carried out sexual attacks as a man named Adam Graham in 2016 and 2019 sparked a heated debate earlier this year after changing gender and name to Isla Bryson while waiting to stand trial at the High Court in Glasgow.

And in 2018, convicted rapist 'Karen White' – branded a 'highly manipulative' predator by a judge – was moved to HMP New Hall in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, and sexually assaulted two women inmates.

Fox was arrested after police discovered images of Ceri-Lee online that the abuser had been trading with other pedophiles.

She was later charged with and admitted to several counts of sexual activity with Ceri-Lee, inciting a child to engage in sexual activity and distributing indecent images.

In 2016 she was sentenced to 15 years in prison. It was not until the end of 2021 that she told the authorities she wanted to change gender.

A SSAFA spokesperson, said: 'SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity provides practical, emotional and financial assistance to serving personnel, reservists, veterans and their families in their time of need. Due to data protection laws and our need to protect our beneficiaries' and employees' confidentiality, we cannot comment on individuals or their circumstances.'

A spokesperson for Dyfed-Powys Police said: 'In line with national guidelines we can neither confirm nor deny the information you have provided.

'However, we can confirm that Multi Agency Public Protection Arrangements are utilised throughout the entire force area to manage appropriate offenders living in the community and they will be closely supervised by local officers to minimise any risk.'

#Claire Fox is Clive Bundy #Child Abuse #Child Abuse material online #UK #Wales

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mariacallous · 4 days ago

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On the twentieth of January, the year of our Lord 2025, Donald Trump’s one hundred days began.

Thank you. Thank you very much, everybody. (Applause.) Wow. Thank you very, very much.

I read his second Inaugural Address early the next morning in bed, curled, bent to the glow of an iPhone in dark mode, a morning ritual that always feels like sin.

From this day forward, our country will flourish and be respected again all over the world.

Then, dutifully, I scrolled through the Day One executive orders:

A full, complete and unconditional pardon . . . offenses related to events that occurred at or near the United States Capitol on January 6, 2021 . . . . . . the privilege of United States citizenship does not automatically extend to persons born in the United States . . . . . . establishes the Department of Government Efficiency . . . . . . eliminate the “electric vehicle (EV) mandate” . . . . . . directing that it officially be renamed the Gulf of America.

The Day One executive orders included—and depended on—the President’s formal, executive declarations of not one, not two, but three national emergencies: an immigration emergency, an energy emergency, and a terrorism emergency. There was also the Donald-Trump-is-President-again emergency.

I buried my phone under my pillow and closed my eyes. Blindly, I reached over to my nightstand and groped for a book. I pulled off the stack the first of the Penguin Little Black Classics, a collection of slender paperbacks that I’d been meaning to read, each as thin and sleek as my phone, bound in black, with white type on a plain cover. Dark mode.

No. 1, Giovanni Boccaccio, “Mrs Rosie and the Priest,” is described on the back cover as “bawdy tales of pimps, cuckolds, lovers and clever women from the fourteenth-century Florentine masterpiece The Decameron.” The book opened like a flower, like a hinge, like a butterfly, like a pair of hands in blessing. I turned to the first page:

I was told some time ago about a young man from Perugia called Andreuccio, the son of a certain Pietro and a horse-dealer by trade.

My heart leapt. I had found my doomscrolling methadone. With five hundred gold florins in his bag, Andreuccio set off for Naples. And I made a vow to read one volume of the Penguin Little Black Classics each morning in bed, matins, for a hundred days. Two and a half times Lent. In case of emergency, break open a book.

Little editions that fit in the palm of your hand and can be rubbed like rosaries are close relatives of prayer books. They are meant for the masses and often intended to be read, and reread, in difficult times. The Penguin Little Black Classics are descended from the hundred and one titles published by the Little Leather Library Corporation, founded in New York around 1915. This was during the Great War, a terrible emergency, and before the invention of modern paperbacks. The Little Leather Library—“handy little classics”—consisted of miniature editions of works by the likes of Shakespeare, Longfellow, Tennyson, and Poe, about three and a quarter by four inches, bound, at first, in real leather, and then mostly in imitation green leather. It was, in effect, a small-scale, American version of the Everyman Library, which had been started in 1906 by a London bookbinder who, not nearly so rich as Andreuccio, had left home at the age of thirteen with only a half crown in his pocket and who, having made his fortune, decided, at the age of fifty-six, to publish a library of fifty titles “to appeal to every kind of reader: the worker, the student, the cultured man, the child, the man and the woman,” and sell them for one shilling each so that ��for a few shillings the reader may have a whole bookshelf of the immortals; for five pounds (which will procure him with a hundred volumes) a man may be intellectually rich for life.” Every volume, six and eleven-sixteenths by four and a quarter inches, contained this motto, from “Everyman,” the medieval morality play: “Everyman, I will go with thee, and be thy guide, / In thy most need to go by thy side.” Because what you need, in dire times, is wisdom.

The four New Yorkers who started the Little Leather Library wanted people who rarely read books and owned few to own and read more books, so they made them even tinier and even cheaper, ten cents, twenty-five cents. (One of those four men went on to start the Modern Library; two others helped create the Book-of-the-Month Club.) They printed titles in the public domain, so they didn’t need to pay authors for rights. They stuffed their tiny books in chocolate boxes (an idea they got from cigarettes that came with Lilliputian editions of Shakespeare’s plays), they sold them at Woolworth’s, and they seem to have even put them in cereal boxes. But once the U.S. entered the war in Europe they began to sell them by mail order to the families of soldiers to send to the boys at the front, because men in trenches, and men who’d once been in trenches, battered by shelling and up to their waists in mud and blood, “read, eagerly, cravingly, everything they can lay their hands on,” as a Little Leather Library ad explained in October, 1917. “They have gone through such frightful experiences that they require something to put them in touch again with a sane world.” This was, after all, the war about which Wilfred Owen wrote, in a poem included in Penguin Little Black Classics No. 50, “1914”:

. . . Rent or furled Are all Art’s ensigns. Verse wails. Now begin Famines of thought and feeling. Love’s wine’s thin. The grain of human Autumn rots, down-hurled.

I am not a soldier and this is not wartime, only a national emergency, or, I guess, a whole slew of them. Now begin / Famines of thought and feeling. But my Penguin Little Black Classics smell like a stationery store, and they have a small flat-footed, big-bellied penguin on the front cover, with his head cocked, and the words inside make sense, none of which can be said for the daily news about the state of the nation.

Donald Trump’s one hundred days, from January 20 to April 30, 2025, will stand as a monument to the bloated, twisted power of the American Presidency and to the impotence of the U.S. Congress. In 1933, after a bank run that lasted a month, Franklin D. Roosevelt declared a national emergency and ordered a weeklong bank holiday. He subsequently coined the “Hundred Days” to describe the beginning of his first term in office, during which he issued a total of ninety-nine executive orders. F.D.R.’s enemies accused him of using the Great Depression as a pretext for assuming dictatorial powers, but F.D.R., unlike Trump, worked with Congress, which passed nearly eighty laws in those hundred days in 1933. During Trump’s one hundred days in 2025, he issued a hundred and thirty executive orders (and counting), while Congress passed exactly five laws, including two to roll back environmental protections, one directing the arrest of aliens charged with certain crimes, and one to keep the federal government running.

Even more notably, Trump declared eight national emergencies in his first hundred days, declarations that allowed him to wield more than a hundred and thirty emergency powers. In 1973, after Richard Nixon was reëlected even as the Watergate scandal was unfolding, the historian Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., offered an account of what he called the “imperial presidency,” in a book of that title: the gradual expansion of the office from the earliest days of the Republic, especially by the appropriation of the war power from Congress, in violation of the Constitution’s separation of powers. Trump’s second Administration marks the high noon of the emergency Presidency.

Many of the emergency powers that Trump exercised in his first hundred days became available only through legislation passed after Schlesinger wrote “The Imperial Presidency”: the 1976 National Emergencies Act and the International Emergency Economic Powers Act of 1977. Still, these measures did not immediately produce an increase in the number of announced crises. Nixon, in his one and a half terms, declared two national emergencies, Jimmy Carter one, and Ronald Reagan six in eight years. Democrats were the first to abuse the emergency power: in two-term Presidencies, Bill Clinton declared seventeen national emergencies, and Barack Obama twelve. Joe Biden declared nine in four years. The emergency Presidency, in short, did not begin with Trump. (Nor did the feckless Congress: the last Congress of Biden’s Presidency passed the fewest laws of any since the nineteen-eighties.) But Trump’s declaration of eight national emergencies in his first hundred days turned an abuse of power into a feature of the office.

The emergency Presidency is a function, too, of emergency politics. Sirens have been blaring for years, if not decades. The 2024 Presidential campaign itself involved deafening, five-alarm rhetorical fires. (There would be real conflagrations, too, as wildfires ravaged swaths of Southern California.) Biden and then Kamala Harris claimed that the election was an emergency for democracy. Elon Musk insisted that the future of humanity was at stake. “They’ll soon have us losing World War Three,” Trump warned of the Biden Administration. “We won’t even be in World War Three—we’ll be losing World War Three with weapons the likes of which nobody has ever seen before. These are the stakes of this election. Our country is being destroyed. And the only thing standing between you and its obliteration is me.”

Trump won the Presidency in a free and fair election with a mandate to curb inflation, restrict immigration, cut taxes, support small businesses, and reverse progressive overreach, especially in employment and education. From his first day in office, he set about dismantling much of both the federal government and the Constitution’s system of checks and balances. By declarations of national emergency, by executive order, and by executive action—and frequently in plain violation of the Constitution— Trump gutted entire departments of the federal government. He defied the federal judiciary. He rescinded funds lawfully appropriated by Congress. He lifted regulations across industries. He fired, forced the resignations of, or eliminated the jobs of tens of thousands of federal employees. He hobbled scientific research. He all but criminalized immigration. He denounced the arts. He abandoned the federal government’s [commitment to public education](https://www.newyorker.com/news/the-lede/trumps-vivisection-of-the-department-of-education). He revoked civil rights and shuttered civil-rights programs, deriding the goals of racial equality, gender equality, and L.G.B.T.Q. equality. He made enemies of American allies, and prostituted the United States to the passions of tyrants. He punished his adversaries and delighted in their suffering. He tried to bring universities to heel. He bent law firms to his will. He instituted tariffs and toppled markets; he lifted tariffs and toppled markets. He debased the very idea of America. He created chaos, emergency after emergency.

Trump felled so much timber not because of the mightiness of his axe but because of the rot within the trees and the weakness of the wood. Many of the institutions Trump attacked, from the immigration system to higher education, were those whose leaders and votaries knew them to be broken and yet whose problems they had failed to fix, or even, publicly, to acknowledge. Now is not the time to admit to these problems, leaders—from Democratic Party officials to C.E.O.s, intellectuals, university presidents, and newspaper editors—had advised, for years, because this is an emergency. They refused to denounce the illiberalism of speech codes, the lack of due process in the #MeToo movement and Title IX cases, mandatory D.E.I. affirmations as a condition of employment, and the remorseless political intolerance of much of the left. Even after Trump won reëlection on a promise to destroy those institutions, they refused to admit to their problems, presumably because his victory made the emergency even emergencier.

Under these circumstances, Trump for weeks encountered very little opposition. (“Find everyone’s weak spot,” the seventeenth-century Spanish priest Baltasar Gracián advises in Penguin Little Black Classics No. 12, “How to Use Your Enemies.” “This is the art of moving people’s wills.”) He also enjoyed very little coöperation, relying instead on complicity, cowardice, and complaisance. Silicon Valley licked his boots. (Memo to billionaires, from No. 74, Sappho: “Wealth without real worthiness / Is no good for the neighbourhood.”) Nine of the nation’s biggest law firms chose to do Trump’s bidding, pro bono, rather than fight him in court. Columbia University, an institution that had once complied with all manner of progressive directives, also elected to comply with the Administration’s directives rather than to defy them.

Democrats, unable either to diagnose or to admit to their own failings, measured their victories in the meekest of triumphs, and seemed to have lost all sense of purpose, direction, and proportion. Kash Patel, at his Senate confirmation hearing as F.B.I. director, was asked about a far-right conspiracy theorist:

Senator Dick Durbin: Are you familiar with Mr. Stew Peters? Patel (after a long pause): Not off the top of my head. Durbin: You’ve made eight separate appearances on his podcast.

On X, a post recounting this exchange got 1.7 million views, as if catching Patel in this dumb lie constituted a meaningful win. The same day that Patel appeared before the Senate, a meeting of the Democratic National Committee began in Maryland, where officials squabbled over rules, were flattered by MSNBC hosts, and did not dare suggest that Biden ought not to have remained in the race for so long. The Senate subsequently confirmed Patel, on a 51–49 party-line vote. Meanwhile, I read Penguin Little Black Classics No. 4, “On Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts,” from 1827, by Thomas De Quincey, who observed that crime is often done badly but what an achievement when done well!

Did I feel guilty for taking refuge in my books? I did. Was it refuge? It was. “It is a most wonderful comfort to sit alone beneath a lamp, book spread before you, and commune with someone from the past whom you have never met.”—No. 11, Yoshida Kenkō. Was seeking that comfort cowardly? It was. Was it also idiotic? Possibly. “The sun threatened to set before long, but he went on reading book spines with undiminished intensity. Lined up before him was not so much an array of books as the fin de siècle itself. Nietzsche, Verlaine, the Goncourt brothers, Dostoevsky, Hauptmann, Flaubert. . . .” No. 56, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, “The Life of a Stupid Man.”

No matter the emergency, I eventually gave up on reading the Little Black Classics in numerical order, chiefly because I kept misplacing them. Did I leave No. 13 on a train? What if I wanted to skip to No. 57? I started keeping a commonplace book, notes of my favorite lines. Also, certain events began to suggest certain books. After Trump declared that a first-of-its-kind multiyear report known as the National Nature Assessment had to be halted and could never be published, the report’s director, an environmental scientist named Phil Levin, e-mailed the hundred and fifty scientists on the project, “This work is too important to die.” I underlined two lines from No. 9, “Three Tang Dynasty Poets”: “Can I bear to leave these blue hills? / And the green stream—what of that?” On X, Musk called U.S.A.I.D. “evil” and a “viper’s nest of radical-left marxists who hate America,” part of a wider withdrawal from global public-health commitments. A stop-work order for an H.I.V./AIDS treatment-and-prevention program was expected to lead to the deaths of half a million children in sub-Saharan Africa by 2030; another 2.8 million were projected to be orphaned. I picked up No. 88, a volume of stories by Mark Twain, including “The Story of the Bad Little Boy Who Didn’t Come to Grief,” the tale of a very nasty little boy who, unlike those in all the storybooks, never pays the cost for all the terrible things he does: “And he grew up, and married, and raised a large family, and brained them all with an axe one night, and got wealthy by all manner of cheating and rascality, and now he is the infernalest wickedest scoundrel in his native village, and is universally respected, and belongs to the Legislature.” I passed an old woman standing on the side of the road in a snowstorm, alone, carrying a poster that read “I DID NOT ELECT ELON MUSK.”

By February, Trump’s meme coin had earned him a hundred million dollars. I scribbled down a line from No. 6, John Ruskin’s “Traffic,” from 1864: “Because you are king of a nation, it does not follow that you are to gather for yourself all the wealth of that nation.” Trump said during a news conference that “the U.S. will take over the Gaza Strip.” In “Caligula,” No. 17, the Roman historian Suetonius reported that Caligula once said, “Bear in mind that I can do anything I want to anyone I want!” Trump banned the Associated Press from the White House press pool because it refused to call the Gulf of Mexico the Gulf of America. Trump tweeted, “He who saves his Country does not violate any Law.” Suetonius recounted that Caligula, “in his dealings with the Senate . . . made some of the highest officials run for miles beside his chariot, dressed in their togas, or wait in short linen tunics at the head or foot of his dining couch.” I pictured John Thune running at a trot in a MAGA hat, the requisite red tie flapping in the wind like a tiny kite.

Penguin invented the modern paperback in 1935, in the middle of the Great Depression. Soon afterward, cheap paperback classics could be found everywhere from newsstands to dime stores. In 1941, when W. H. Auden taught a course at the University of Michigan called Fate and the Individual in European Literature, with six thousand pages of reading, he assigned mostly Everyman and Modern Library editions. In March, 1942, three months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, a group of publishers, booksellers, and librarians led by William Warder Norton, of W. W. Norton, formed the Council on Books in Wartime. The next year, the council began printing Armed Services Editions of more than a thousand titles, snug enough to fit in a soldier’s hip pocket: Dickens, Voltaire, Melville. The council sold them to the U.S. military at cost, six cents a copy. (They were printed on presses designed for magazines—either Reader’s Digest size or pulp-magazine size—and so were printed “two up,” in pairs, one on top of the other, and then sliced in half. ) Over the next four years, the council distributed more than a hundred and twenty million copies to soldiers across the world. Infantrymen: one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, turn the page. Penguin started printing the Penguin Classics in 1946. It launched the Little Black Classics in 2015, offering an eighty-volume boxed set, not because of any emergency but to mark the occasion of Penguin’s eightieth birthday. Only a decade later did they become my Trump Administration Editions.

On March 4th, Trump delivered a joint address to Congress. He took stock:

Six weeks ago, I stood beneath the dome of this Capitol and proclaimed the dawn of the golden age of America. From that moment on, it has been nothing but swift and unrelenting action to usher in the greatest and most successful era in the history of our country. We have accomplished more in forty-three days than most Administrations accomplished in four years or eight years, and we are just getting started. . . . Over the past six weeks, I have signed nearly one hundred executive orders and taken more than four hundred executive actions—a record—to restore common sense, safety, optimism, and wealth all across our wonderful land.

Some Democrats in Congress apparently quite seriously considered carrying empty egg cartons to the address as a form of protest. I took the occasion to reread No. 25, Dante, “Circles of Hell”:

They raged, blaspheming God and their own kin, the human race, the place and time, the seed from which they’d sprung, the day that they’d been born.

Meanwhile, Trump kept talking about making Canada the fifty-first state and refused to disavow the possibility of taking the Panama Canal by force. No. 82, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “The Body Politic”: “You will say that the despot guarantees civil peace to his subjects. Very well. But what do they gain thereby, if the wars into which his ambition draws them, his insatiable greed, and the humiliations of his rule inflict more desolation upon them than would their own disputes? What do they gain thereby, if that very peace is one of their miseries? One may live at peace even in a dungeon—is that enough to feel at ease there?”

But there was no civil peace, either. Musk started waving a chainsaw onstage, screeching with glee at cutting jobs. Students with visas were being hauled away, apprehended on sidewalks. I watched a video of a Tufts graduate student on a visa from Turkey being handcuffed by immigration officers, and reread No. 27, “The Nightingales Are Drunk,” by the fourteenth-century Persian poet Hafez:

And when did kindness end? What brought The sweetness of our town to naught?

The U.S. opposed a U.N. resolution condemning Russia for the war in Ukraine. Jeff Bezos, the owner of the Washington Post, announced a new editorial mandate: the newspaper would no longer print opinion pieces that questioned the free market. I read No. 46, Nikolai Gogol, “The Nose”:

The clerk’s tightly pressed lips showed he was deep in thought. “I can’t print an advertisement like that in our paper,” he said after a long silence. “What? Why not?” “I’ll tell you. A paper can get a bad name. If everyone started announcing his nose had run away, I don’t know how it would all end.”

J. D. Vance smirked at Volodymyr Zelensky: “Have you said thank you?” I thought of sending the Vice-President a postcard with one of Friedrich Nietzsche’s “Aphorisms on Love and Hate,” from Penguin Little Black Classics No. 5: “Crude men who feel themselves insulted tend to assess the degree of insult as high as possible, and talk about the offense in greatly exaggerated language, only so they can revel to the heart’s content in the aroused feelings of hatred and revenge.”

On March 10th, Trump’s press office marked “50 wins in 50 days.” I spent the day pondering “The Frogs Who Demanded a King” in No. 61, a collection of Aesop’s fables:

The frogs, annoyed with the anarchy in which they lived, sent a deputation to Zeus to ask him to give them a king. Zeus, seeing that they were but very simple creatures, threw a piece of wood into their marsh. The frogs were so alarmed by the sudden noise that they plunged into the depths of the bog. But when the piece of wood did not move, they clambered out again. They developed such a contempt for this new king that they jumped on his back and crouched there.

The frogs were deeply ashamed at having such a king, so they sent a second deputation to Zeus asking him to change their monarch. For the first was too passive and did nothing.

Zeus now became impatient with them and sent down a water-serpent which seized them and ate them all up.

There were still fifty days to go. Even though I knew it was no good, I missed the piece of wood.

The emergency Presidency is exhausting. On March 11th, the Department of Education announced that it was laying off about half its employees, as part of the Administration’s Workforce Optimization Initiative. I picked up No. 29, Michel de Montaigne, “How We Weep and Laugh at the Same Thing”: “One day equals all days. There is no other light, no other night. The Sun, Moon and Stars, disposed just as they are now, were enjoyed by your grandsires and will entertain your great-grandchildren.” Ten days later, Columbia decided to allow Trump to dictate what college students will learn about the Middle East, and the White House announced an end to legal aid for migrant children. I consulted No. 8, Jonathan Swift, “A Modest Proposal”: “I have been assured by a very knowing American of my Acquaintance in London; that a young healthy Child, well nursed, is, at a Year old, a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome Food.”

On March 24th, Jeffrey Goldberg, The Atlantic’s editor-in-chief, reported the bombshell story about the national-security group chat on Signal. I read a fairy tale in No. 68, by the Brothers Grimm: “After a while they found another man lying on the ground with one ear pressed against the grass. ‘What are you doing there?’ asked the prince. ‘I’m listening,’ answered the man. ‘What are you listening for so attentively?’ ‘I’m listening to what’s going on in the world at this moment, for nothing escapes my ears, I can even hear the grass growing.’ ” It sounds like Pete Hegseth, tapping at his phone, “Just CONFIRMED w/CENTCOM we are a GO for mission launch.”

Two days later, learning belatedly that one of Musk’s young DOGE employees went by the name Big Balls while another said that he was “racist before it was cool,” I went straight to No. 36, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “Sketchy, Doubtful, Incomplete Jottings”: “Tell me with whom you consort and I will tell you who you are.” The next day, Trump issued an executive order titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” in which he required the Smithsonian museums “to remove improper ideology” from any account of the American past. As D. H. Lawrence put it in an essay in No. 71, “It would perhaps be easier to go to the Archaeological Museum in Florence, to look at the etruscan collection, if we decided once and for all that there never were any Etruscans.”

On March 28th, driving on a highway, I saw a homemade sign hanging on a banner made of sheets stitched together and draped over the railings of an overpass. It read:

SAVE OUR DEMOCRACY UPHOLD OUR CONSTITUTION

I had to pull over on the soft shoulder, not soft enough, and weep, thinking of No. 76, Virgil:

Look where strife has led Rome’s wretched citizens.

If ever there came a day when there wasn’t an emergency, or when the palpable, heart-racing sense of daily chaos seemed to diminish, the President of the United States made sure to create an emergency. He had to. He was exercising emergency powers; his powers required sustaining that sense of urgency. Without it, little remained but his malice, his pettiness, and his insatiable appetite for revenge. I sought solace in a poem written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1798 and reproduced in No. 35:

. . . may the vaunts And menace of the vengeful enemy Pass like the gust.

On April 2nd, Liberation Day, Trump announced his new “reciprocal tariffs.” The stock market and even the bond market plummeted. I read No. 62, the haikus of Matsuo Bashō, a seventeenth-century Japanese poet:

Spring’s exodus— birds shriek, fish eyes blink tears.

Democrats tried to seize the moment. Cory Booker spoke for twenty-five hours to little effect. (“I had thought him placid, and he was placid enough; such a surface was the hard polished glass that encased the bauble of his vanity.” No. 49, Henry James, “The Figure in the Carpet.”) Democrats celebrated an electoral victory in Wisconsin on April 1st. (“Did not a magnolia open its hard white flowers against the watery blue of April?” No. 48, Edith Wharton, “The Reckoning.”) Protesters rallied around the country on April 5th. And then, on April 7th, day seventy-eight, the D.N.C., having still failed to determine why the Party had lost the election, why it had become so unpopular, and what policies the state of the nation demanded, announced the formation of a war room for “rapid response” and “aggressive daily messaging,” to include hiring “influencers” and committing to “regular message briefings, daily talking points, and the dissemination of actionable polling and message testing,” as if the problem were not that the Democrats utterly lacked a compelling program but that they weren’t getting their message out. It seemed like a good time to read the last lines of Sophocles’ “Antigone,” No. 55:

The mighty words of the proud are paid in full with mighty blows of fate, and at long last those blows will teach us wisdom.

Though, of course, things didn’t end well for Antigone.

On April 11th, the Trump Administration wrote to Harvard, demanding to control the university’s core functions. “When young Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more / the monster relit his fire.” In No. 70, Odysseus and his men are trapped in the cave of the bloodthirsty Cyclops, a “giant, lawless brute.” On April 14th, Harvard declared that it was refusing to comply with the Trump Administration’s demands. Odysseus blinds the Cyclops and makes his escape. But he’s still a long way from home. The White House announced that it would freeze $2.2 billion in grants to the university, and seek to overturn its tax-exempt status.

The Trump Administration revoked visas from students, including some with green cards who were permanent residents, and initiated deportation proceedings. It deported—owing to what was admitted to be an “administrative error”—a Maryland man who had protected legal status, flying him to El Salvador, where he was confined in that country’s infamous prison complex. Trump shrugged this off and made it clear that he would defy court orders to bring the man back and return him to his family. He told the President of El Salvador that he’d soon begin deporting U.S. citizens and asked him to build more prisons for Americans. “Homegrowns are next,” he said at a meeting in the White House, beneath a portrait of Thomas Jefferson. “The homegrowns. You gotta build about five more places. It’s not big enough.”

Birds shriek. “Are you still a patriot?” a law-school colleague asked, stopping me in a hallway. Fish eyes blink tears.

I kept Walt Whitman for last. Whitman wanted to be the Homer of America, the Herodotus of democracy. He, too, toted around little copies of the classics. “Every now and then,” he once wrote, “I carried a book in my pocket—or perhaps tore out from some broken or cheap edition a bunch of loose leaves.” He loved the Iliad. He pored over Virgil and Sophocles, Shakespeare and Dante. And yet he insisted, “I stand in my place with my own day here.”

On the morning of the hundredth day of Donald Trump’s second Presidency, in this America, I plan to read Penguin Little Black Classics No. 10, a collection of Whitman’s poems. I love best “With Antecedents,” written in 1860, on the eve of the Civil War:

I assert that all past days were what they must have been, And what they could no-how have been better than they were, And that to-day is what it must be, and that America is, And that to-day and America could no-how be better than they are.

There is no emergency, nor any day, that does not require poetry.

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stereopticons · 1 month ago

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On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 21

2018

better than all the rest [david/patrick, T, 2,014] by foxwatson

It’s not like this is the first time David has embarrassed himself for a loved one. aka this is a 4x09 reaction fic

2019

Apologies and Confessions of Love [david/patrick, NR, 927] by bombshellblonde

Just a short few scenes after Meet The Parents

occupying the same breath [david/patrick, T, 551] by @enablelove

After the tumultuous day, Patrick and David take a moment to relax in bed.

2020

All the Roads We Have to Walk [david/patrick, T, 23,561] by @meadowharvest4856

"I wonder what would've happened if we'd met in high school?" Patrick Brewer is ready to conquer the summer of 1999 at Camp Cedar Glade. He's in for a surprise, though, in the form of one David Rose.

Fools Rush In [david/patrick, g, 1,765] by @olrhys

“Well I don’t want to make assumptions,” David said, a teasing edge to his voice. “But it looks to me like you were doodling your first name and my last name together in our sales ledger less than a year into our relationship.” Or, David finds evidence that Patrick had been planning on marrying him a long, long time ago.

Pen15 is Mightier Drabble Challenges [multi fandom, E, 5,856, CW: harry potter] by BrandonStrayne

A random assortment of drabbles written for the Pen15 is Mightier weekly drabble challenges. Each chapter will be its own drabble and the title of the chapter will be the prompt for that particular challenge.

The Way We Were [johnny/moira, G, 1,920] by MadisonAvenue

Currently pregnant with Alexis, Moira laments on her life and her capabilities as a mother

2021

A Change of Plans [david/patrick, T, 718] by @rmd-writes

From his vantage point on the couch, David can see that Patrick is sulking. He’s sitting at the table staring at the laptop, beer untouched, his hand clenched in a fist on the table. He sighs and sips his wine, trying to assess whether enough time has passed that he can approach Patrick. Or David knows how to deal with Pouty Patrick

even doubt can be delicious (or moderately edible) [david/patrick, G, 9,686] by @lilythesilly

“My coffee, please. To go.” A to-go cup is slid into his line of vision, except when he takes a sip it’s not his coffee, it’s liquid death. “Um, what is this supposed to be?” He asks, looking up and startling when he sees a face that is not Twyla staring back at him. “You’re not Twyla.” The guy in front of him smiles, like he’s amused by fucking up his coffee order. “No, I’m Patrick.” An AU retelling of Season 3 where instead of going to work for Ray, Patrick gets a job at the cafe.

Excel-lent Excuse for a Celebration [david/patrick, G, 221] by @dazedwriter1

David and Patrick had saved a bottle of wine from opening day to be had in the future at an unknown date when a celebration was needed. Patrick found the perfect excuse. A short text message based fic.

Featuring the Patron Saint of Drag Queens [david/patrick, NR, 1,825] by TuttleAsHimself

Clint is very fond of his son-in-law, but it's rare that he and David find themselves alone in each other's company. What will they talk about while Patrick and Marcy are out hiking? Turns out they do have some common ground. Despite the title this doesn't actually have anything to do with drag queens lol. Maybe one day.

Grenada [david/patrick, T, 300] by Rosey_Peach

i might be a malady, thank god you're my galaxy (my sweet relief) [alexis/twyla, T, 1,581] by @turningtimeinthetardis

Twyla’s not sure what hurts worse, her embarrassment or her hangover.

the ex [david/patrick, T, 1,089] by @grapehyasynth

David has mostly done a good job of not letting himself think long-term commitment thoughts about Patrick, which is 50% of why it hurts the way it does when Alexis turns to the redhead she’s invited to their family barbecue and gasps, “Wait, *Patrick* is your *husband*?”

three o'clock [alexis/twyla, E, 2,914] by @schittyfic

“Oooh, Twy, three o’clock.” “Huh?” Twyla wrinkles her nose at Alexis in confusion, picking up her phone from the vaguely-sticky table and checking the screen. “It’s nine thirty-two.” “No-no, babe, like, three o’clock.” Alexis enunciates each syllable, widening her eyes and jerking her head dramatically. It’s still, like, totally subtle, though. She closes her glossed lips around the straw of her daiquiri as Twyla finally turns to look across the bar. “Oh,” Twyla breathes out, unknowingly mirroring Alexis’s pose, sucking her own straw into her mouth as they both stare. - Or: two tipsy girlfriends thirst over the hot, bearded guy across the bar.

To Hold You in My Arms [david/patrick, NR, 1,910] by TuttleAsHimself

After realizing David is part of THAT Rose family at Patrick's surprise party, Marcy's curiosity gets the better of her and she makes a painful discovery concerning David's past. (Warnings are in the tags just to be safe, but it's all briefly touched on and not at all graphic)

where we're headed for [david/patrick, M, 58,077] by stillicide_snow

“So did you start wearing all black because you’re an international cat burglar or did you base your career choice on your wardrobe?” Or, David used to be a jewel thief. Allegedly. He doesn't do that anymore. Patrick works in insurance, and he has a few questions about those recent break-ins... An AU in which David leaves Schitt's Creek for good at the end of season one, and then his past starts to catch up to him.

wish i'd known this feeling is coming [david/patrick, T, 670] by budd

Set after the events of "Pregnancy Test" and prior to "Girls' Night", David and Patrick cuddle for the first time at Ray's following a night of (silent) sex.

you'd rather lie than fall [david/patrick, G, 39,993] by @maxbegone

“Stevie,” he starts, tears brimming his eyes. “I can’t stay here. I... I should have seen it all coming. I should have known that—” A hiccup escapes him and he swallows, hard. “That everything good was just going to fall apart. It always does. Nothing works out for me.” “That’s not true, David. Look what you’ve created.” She throws a hand out in the general direction of the town. “You guys can...you can work through this. There are other options.” “Nope.” David is adamant, then, righting his face of any emotion. “Running away was what I did in the past, I can do it again now.” — David should have suspected it. Patrick was too perfect in all his neat and organized glory. He should have seen Rachel coming from a mile away. That was five months ago. There’s no rekindling that now. The other shoe drops and David really does leave Schitt’s Creek for New York, only to find that in a city of eight million people, it’s still very easy to be lonely. But bumping into the one person he never expected to on his morning coffee run might just lead to a friendship he never knew he needed.

2022

I Can Fix That [david/patrick, T, 1,733] by mallpretzles

The proposal is put on hold when Patrick injures his foot. This is the story of plan b.

2023

How Long Will I Love You? [david/patrick, E, 24,399] by @ficsfromabrokenchair

This is my first long AU, and my first fic inspired by a movie. While it’s not essential to this storyline, if you have a hard time wrapping your mind around time travel or need a visual of what I’m describing, I’d suggest watching About Time. Plus, it’s just a sweet film. Bill Nighy, anyone?! This work is my love letter to the idea that these two belong together in every universe. But their journey won’t be free of challenges.It’s an AU but it follows canon very closely… until it doesn’t. Then it does again. Stick with me. A huge thank you to the better half of my writing brain, Goodiecornbread, for navigating the mother of all timey-wimey plots with me and still wanting to be friends on the other side. This fic wouldn’t have made it out of my brain and into nine disorganized Google docs without you. You always handle my David-level spirals with grace.

Rain [david/patrick, M, 100] by @sspaz1000

David's making breakfast, when it starts to rain. Patrick is out for a run. What happens when David sees Patrick?

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2024 2018: 1 fic/2,014 words 2019: 2 fics/1,478 words 2020: 4 fics/33,102 words 2021: 12 fics/118,984 words 2022: 1 fic/1,733 words 2023: 2 fics/24,499 words Total: 22 fics/181,810 words

#on this day in sc #schitt's creek #sc fanfic #david rose #patrick brewer #patrick x david #david x patrick #alexis rose #twyla sands #johnny rose #moira rose

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sleepyhouse2art · 26 days ago

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this is an old drawing of joey from i think 2021, the year i started seriously drawing. its the first one of him i did. before that i did some zines and posters for shows but i never drew for myself after i was 12, although before that i had really loved to draw. when i was 12 i had to go move in with my dad in seattle because after a bunch of stuff tbh i wont go into it but the precipitating incident was one august my mom socked my grandpa and went walking naked down their street. so my grandparents drove me halfway to washington, and my dad picked me up and drove the rest of the way. i hadnt seen him since i was 8 -- we got in a car accident and he never came again. when i moved in, he had a girlfriend who lived with him. and i had never even ridden a city bus before except as a very little kid in providence.

my dad signed me up that summer, because i liked to draw and i didnt have any friends and i think he didnt know what to do with me, to this fancy atelier program for kids. it was every day at this really pretty private catholic school. they used one of the buildings in the off-season. anyway, i went there and i worked hard on my little cartoons. but very quickly i found myself very embarrassed, because all the kids were leagues better than me. they could draw hyperrealistically. a pretty girl i had a crush on lent me a book on the anatomy of trees, which i studied for her but never returned. gradually i grew to hate it there, because i felt too low to belong even though the kids were nice to me. one of the grownup artists who helped out gave me her gaia online username.

the time came for the end of program show, and i lied to my dad. i told him that the show was canceled when it really wasnt, and i went by myself and skulked around. after that i didnt draw anymore, except for sometimes little punk zines and posters for shows, but never just to draw. i think i broke my own heart by not being good enough. it was really all my fault.

i was always mentally ill i guess -- ive had an ed since i was 12, and ive always had problems, like id tried to kill myself before and stuff, but when i hit 20 i started getting really sick. that was the year i first got involed. it was very, very bad. it fucked me up. my therapist told me they did things they shouldnt have done. i am super scared of hospitals because of that and some other times ive been in the hospital where really fucked up things happened to me. i have developed a crazy fear in particular of being restrained and having people sit on me. i think the next time i go they will rape me and kill me (the hospital emergency room down the street from my house has holes in the ceiling), and when my psychiatrist and my therapist tell me its time to go now, i cry a lot and beg them not to send me and that i will be raped and killed, and so they let me stay at home where my husband takes care of me. its safer for me here and nobody can do bad stuff to me. i get to be with my cats who are healers and from god. my life is pretty baller now, even if we are poor. i draw a ton because there isnt much expected of me and we dont need much. we own our house. my husband has a small job. really the only really bad thing in my life is getting sick like i do, or i guess being sick like i am. i hate my schiz, but i cant really do anything about it. also i hate sleeping, which people tell me doesnt help. i have a lot of symptoms and take a lot of pills. its ok tho.

so i draw. i write and i draw A LOT. often i sit and i draw for 14 hours straight or longer. making stuff makes me fee normal and happy and useful. i talk to my best friend all day, the one who i write the kirche street pharmacy stories with. they are the best.

anyway, thats why this drawing is a little special to me, i guess. im glad i made it. im glad i picked back up drawing. im glad you guys like my drawings sometimes!!! thank you thank you thank you. i hope you like this very old drawing of my very loud slutty one-legged son from brooklyn

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upsettingandunfortunateclasshate · 2 years ago

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A Danish artist who pocketed large sums of money lent to him by a museum – and submitted empty frames as his artwork – has been ordered by a court to repay the funds.

Jens Haaning, a conceptual artist whose work focuses on power and inequality, was commissioned in 2021 by the Kunsten Museum of Modern Art in Aalborg, northern Denmark, to recreate two earlier works that used scores of banknotes to represent average incomes.

Haaning’s 2007 work, An Average Danish Annual Income, displayed krone notes fixed to canvas in a frame, and a second 2011 work about Austrian incomes used euro bills.

The museum provided about 532,000 krone (£61,500) from its reserves to recreate artworks as well as an artist’s fee of about 40,000 krone. But when staff unpacked the newly delivered works, they found two empty frames with the title Take the Money and Run.

He's done a right old job on them 😂😂

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palmeryyz · 3 months ago

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January, culturally, environmentally and sometimes politically can be the cruelest month. I was reminded of this on the 15th day of 2025 when David Lynch, the creator of some of the most remarkable, strange and breathtaking cinema, passed away at the age of 78.

His passing was just five days after the anniversary of the death of another man who fell to Earth, David Bowie - who left us nine years ago.

The sadness from the passing of these two great people has been compounded by the frigid temperatures experienced lately (January 15-21 is historically the coldest week of winter) and positively numbing events happening in the United States.

My posts about Bowie's death anniversary prompted a friend to lend me a book entitled Andrew Potter on Decline - Stagnation, Nostalgia and Why Every Year is the Worst One Ever.

My friend lent me the book because it whimsically ties the beginning of this decline to Bowie's death in 2016. Through chapters on Progress, Stagnation, Politics, Reason and the Pandemic, Potter convincingly connects the dots showing the degrading effects of populism, isolationism, totalitarianism and other toxic isms.

The book was published in 2021, before Trump's second term and the exponential rise of artificial intelligence, but its message is just as profound.

The loss of David Lynch in 2025 just days before Trump's second inauguration left me feeling doubly lost.

Not only had Lynch pulled me into the sometimes strange and wonderful world of cinema with films like Blue Velvet and Wild at Heart, which I had enjoyed immensely in their early days at the New Yorker repetory theatre in London, Ontario. But he also helped through a difficult read when I saw Dune, and was lulled back into Frank Herbert's science fiction masterpiece.

Like Bowie's music (and film work for that matter), Lynch's films were a treasure to me. On a grander scale, after reading Potter's book, I worried that Lynch's passing is marking an even steeper decline for the future.

But I was buoyed by a clip of an interview with musician/spoken word artist Henry Rollins that speaks to this challenging time.

"This is not a time to be dismayed. This is punk rock time. This is what Joe Strummer trained you for. It is now time to go. You're a good person, that means more now than ever," Rollins said. "You can be thunderous in your own life and being cool to the eight people around you. And it rubs off...goodness is viral."

#david lynch #david bowie #january #film #music #rest in peace #dune messiah #dune movie #frank herbert #decline

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wolfthekid · 10 days ago

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On April 23rd of 2020, while I was very new to Dungeons & Dragons, I made a new character that has since become one of my most cherished. Asuna Sato was a barbarian I had made for a campaign I never got to DM, where she would've acted as an important NPC for the story. Admittedly her personality was a lot more basic back then, being an offshoot of the angry Barbarian stereotype. But through the years she's grown to be so much more — turning from simple anger to an act of toughness and coldness she developed in her darkest years following the loss of her family and her home.

Asuna had hardly anyone in her life. Those she did have saw a very different side of her. The lord of a war ravaged town, where her mom and a young Asuna fled after their home was destroyed by the same war, looked after the pair. Especially following the passing of her mother from an illness — the last tie to her former life. Her only other companion was the son of the local barkeeper, a tiefling boy. Asuna's interest in music came from the pair, who were both musically inclined. The lord specifically gifted Asuna with a guitar for her 16th birthday, which she would grow to love.

Despite their roles in her life, Asuna still couldn't push past the burden she felt. She wanted to raise hell just for a chance to get at the man responsible for hurting her family. For years she never acted on it, feeling she wasn't ready. If her father, an accomplished warrior, wasn't able to beat him how could she?

Seeing that she needed a little push to leave her bubble, Lord Ronvol set her up with a simple task to build her confidence. He asked her to go to the town of Daggerford to establish a connection that could give them an ally in the war. While nervous, Asuna did accept. What should've been a small trip spiraled into a grand adventure into the land of Ravenloft, accompanied by two individuals who would become her closest friends. Chesten Morwin, the boastful son of the Lady of Daggerford, and Reamp Vecula, the talented traveling Artificer.

The campaign started some time in 2020, or maybe early 2021. Originally Asuna was just a hired bodyguard for Reamp, who wanted someone to protect him on his quest to research magical artifacts. The pair would go to Lady Morwin to ask for her aid in the war, as Asuna had intended before meeting the artificer. Before she lent her aid, she asked a favor of the two. There was a band of people outside of town who she hoped they could convince to move for reasons I won't get into. Her son, Chesten, tagged along with the escort of a guard after pressing his mother on letting him join. The band of people turned out to be Vistani, who goaded the group into Barovia where they have been for the last few months (Almost 5 years in real life).

About halfway through the campaign, more party members joined. Slowly over time Asuna had begun to open up, and became very close to Chesten and Reamp in particular. Through many trials, including her own death attempting to defend the party in the Amber Temple (she later came back), the group has made it all the way to Ravenloft and now ready themselves for a final showdown with Strahd von Zarovich himself.

It is a journey I'm very glad I've been able to take with Asuna. Seeing her open up from her grumpy and depressed exterior into a very protective and caring warrior with a passion for music. Even finding love in a series of one-shots. I don't know where her adventures will go after Barovia, but hopefully I can play her for many more years to come. And hopefully that includes her new companions, and finally bringing her family to justice.

#wolfthekid #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc #original character #dungeons and dragons #dnd character #curse of strahd #dnd party

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swedishjazz · 11 days ago

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ADHD rotated my old high school homeroom teacher to the front of my head and I googled him to see if he hadn't passed away, and unfortunately yes, he did back in 2023. :( He was already an old man when he was teaching me, so I wasn't surprised, but I did hope he was still out there. I actually wrote him back in 2017 to ask how he's been, and he wrote back, but then I asked if he'd like to grab coffee sometime so we can catch up and to give him back the books he lent me 8 years prior - he didn't reply to that and I didn't want to pester him. Now I wish I had. :(

He was a professor of history, actual phd, somehow so hell-bent on putting some structure into mushy little high schooler brains that he only retired in 2021. I was always pretty predisposed to history but his classes, which he led basically like a college lecture, were what made me actually love history and gravitate towards it (I'm on a third historical game in a row in my career, to cite an example).

He was a big bald man with a booming voice, always formally called us "państwo", and was so concerned when he noticed my unmedicated, undiagnosed self sleeping during class he reached out to my parents to ask if everything is alright, if I have space at home to sleep/study etc. An old friend from class said he was the only teacher who noticed and supported her with her awful home situation. He was a good teacher and a good man and I was damn lucky that he, for some reason, felt that teaching the most annoying category of people on earth for next to nothing was his calling. You were a real one, prof. Sz., I miss you but I'm glad you got to teach almost until your death and that you avoided ever having to read a fucking chatGPT essay.

#he lent me and several other kids history books for an olimpiada for which i ended up not qualifying #brought a big blue ikea bag of them. I still have them :(

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fermercadal · 1 year ago

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Rupert - 2021

Cámara: Nikon D5600 Lente: Nikkor 50mm f/1.8

#photography #dslr photography #cats of tumblr

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ryanlowrie · 5 months ago

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Since January 2021 my lovely friend @secretagentsunshine has lent her likeness to recreational sketchibitionism in a project I have titled The Diamondrea Dossier, an incredible show where the audience glow while the watermelon grow in the dirt soil of my avant- garden Paper Stage Art journal

#outsider art #ryan lowrie #sketchbook #art journal #poetry #ryanlowrie #canadian #pencil crayon #drawing

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the-gershomite · 3 months ago

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Conan and the People of the Black Circle and Other Stories -2021- Dark Horse Comics

Conan and the People of the Black Circle: part 2

script: Fred Van Lente

art: Ariel Olivetti

letters: Richard Starkings & Comicraft

based on the work of Conan creator Robert E. Howard

#conan #people of the black circle #dark horse comics #fred van lente #ariel olivetti #richard starkings #comicraft #robert e. howard #comics

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accio-victuuri · 1 year ago

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(candy vault) : alexander mcqueen shoes, nike off white and yibo’s missing mole 🤍

this fandom has lots of candies in the past years and there are ones that fall through the cracks or things that i simply wanna talk about. also for the benefit of new turtles who probably missed it & a good trip down memory lane for those who’ve been here for a while. i made other posts similar to this before and i haven’t done a good old mini compilation so here ya go. ^^

2/23/2021 WYB was in Beijing, participating in the recording of CCTV’s Lantern Festival program in the evening. The actual broadcast was 2/26/2021.

youtube

In the materials initially sent out by YBO, for the photos, you couldn’t see AM shoes. Maybe the shoot was better off focusing on his face, which I totally agree, but it was like they didn’t want to focus on it that much. We only saw the shoes when they released the BTS video where it would be tricky to crop it out.

During the actual performance he changed into a more comfortable looking Jimmy Choo shoes. He was wearing AM outfit so it made sense that the shoes should match too. This should’t really be a big deal or even a CPN, only because changing shoes is sort of normal at events like this. Maybe he was more comfortable with the Jimmy Choo, although the choreography for this performance is not that complicated like his other routines. The way I remember it, WYB usually sticks to the shoes he has on.

The CPN alarm bells started going off tho when ZZ flew from Beijing to Shanghai wearing the same style McQueen shoes. He had shooting back in 2/24 and there were some talk that he was more than a half hour late as planned on set. So going by our collective galaxy brain, they could have spent some time together during late 2/23 and some time on 2/24 which is after the CCTV shoot. WYB probably lent the shoe to him or he just got it from their shared closet lol. This is why ZZ was sort of late, because he was with WYB. The pattern of ZZ being later than usual on set when he is with WYB is something that still happens this year. I’m not implying that he is slacking off when he is with WYB but more of just adjusting his schedule so he can accommodate the love of his life. they both deserve that in between their busy schedules.

maybe this is why YBO didn’t want to highlight that on the materials they released 2/26 ; because they knew where the shoe went 😂😂😂

While we’re in the subject of shoes, let’s take it further back with their matching nike off white in 2018. It’s one CPN that is often given as an example but I haven’t discussed on here.

AAAAAHHHHH! I miss the days when they could still wear Nike shoes. Oh well….

Looking through the airport pictures of ZZ before joining the CQL group from 2016 to 2018, there are no pair of Nikes that could often be seen in pictures of him. There are 2 back in 2017. Before CQL, ZZ had quite a variety of shoes, including a few pairs from Adidas. Like WYB, it is obvious that he likes to buy Nike co-branded products, likes to grab the latest models, and even buys more for collection.

Now let’s focus first on the shoes, it’s a collab of Nike air vapormax X off white. There are two shoes of the same style but in different colors. The black model will be available at 3/30/2018 and the white will be available at 4/18/2018. We know that at the time, WYB will surely have what’s new when it comes to NIKE. It’s either it will be sent to him cause he has a relationship with the brand or he will buy it himself. He is known to always wear the latest designs released. He is also a collector, so he most likely bought the black and white version.

WYB wore the white version on 4/28 and ZZ wore the black model on 5/8 based on photos.

As for ZZ, he was recording an episode for a show and he also used this shoe for the rehearsal. It is the same show where he had to dance and the choreography was taught by WYB. We’ve seen this in the BTS and ZZ talked about it himself.

WYB was seen again with the pair during PD101 on 5/10. It’s funny cause this is the same day where XZ was filmed candidly behind the scenes and he said he hasn’t seen LWJ all day.

These two. Honestly. They only formally “met” and then started shoot 4/16 and it hasn’t even been a month but they already have a couple shoe and ZZ was out there emoting about missing LWJ/WYB? It’s a common discussion that leads to alternative timelines like DT or 2017 or it could just be that it’s one of those rare instance where you connect with someone so quickly.

I have 3 possible explanations:

1. It’s totally unrelated. They bought their pairs separately since they like the style and collab.

2. WYB gave the shoe to XZ. I am a fan of both of them giving gifts to each other. And if you are someone who believed XZ gave him a lego set even before they started filming as a gesture of goodwill then this should make more sense to you. Also WYB is known to give gifts and that includes shoes ( for example SDC 3, he gave out multiple pairs ). This reasoning is not necessarily a CPN of them being boyfriends, but more of being close enough to give each other gifts. and not just the usual one you would give to a colleague cause if WYB only has the white and XZ has the black, it’s a couple shoe. WYB low key hinting at the prospect if them being a pair and XZ accepting it.

3. They bought it together, as you would when you’re with a friend and are scrolling through shopping apps together. I think there are fake rumors of that, the two, in between takes scroll through their phones and buy each other stuff or same style clothes. Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean boyfriend behavior, but more of being close enough to do that.

A clue for that is WYB was seen with the black pair during CQL filming around early 6/2018. You can clown that he is wearing ZZ’s shoes or he did buy the 2 kinds for his own and ZZ got the black only.

Lastly is the stolen mole!!!!! ♥️

Since cpfs are obsessing over WYB’s very visible mole from the Bazaar shoot.

It’s one of my favorite fake and it basically says, The reason why WYB cares so much about ZZ’s mole under the lip, is because WYB also had one like this when he was little. The elders in the family said it’s something good and it means he will have a happy life. However the mole disappeared. Or i guess in his case it’s not as prominent and has faded instead.

While filming, GG has scenes where he didn’t have make up or it gets taken off because of the heat. WYB looks at him closely and points out his lip mole, saying that he had something like that before but it disappeared. GG then added that his mom told him that his mole appeared only after a while when he was young.

That’s when WYB said GG stole his mole. When it disappeared, the mole transferred to GG 😂😂😂

Maybe this is why WYB is so fixated with his mole that he even includes it in his drawing of XZ/WWX.

-END.

#Youtube #bjyx #yizhan #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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