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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

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Quinlan's hands had dropped to his face sometime ago. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure how to comfort him. He had asked, and quite frankly, Obi-Wan could really use the help of another shadow for the final Kamino infiltration.

"I know it's a lot to take in—" he began softly, only to be cut of by a hoarse chuckle.

"You really don't see it, do you?" Quinlan asked, looking up at him incredulously.

"See what?" the time traveler asked nervously, twisting to stare at the holoboard mapping Sidious' master plan, a carefully constructed counter at the end of every twisting vine strangling the republic.

"What this looks like!" Quinlan replied, gesturing broadly.

"I'd say it looks terrifying," Obi-Wan answered dryly. "And you can see why, given Palpatine's position, I've had to respond secretly."

"Respond!" Quinlan ran a hand through his hair, barking out another laugh. "Respond. For fuck’s sake, if it were anyone but you telling me this—and if you were telling anyone but me—Obi-Wan you haven't just responded, you've won."

"Well—" Obi-Wan hedged, edges of his lips curling up. "I admit, it would be very difficult for the Sith to win at this point, even should I die, I've got deadman's messages prepared for the Council and relevant Senate members. Still, my current defense against the clone army is hardly acceptable, so you see why I need your help infiltrating the Kamino command center when I make my move—"

"Obi-Wan." Vos pressed his hands together, thumbs digging into his chin and inhaling sharply. "That's not what I mean. I mean that you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, have won the galaxy. You could literally declare yourself Emperor today."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Don't be absurd. What, just because I've got the command codes to disable the droid army and the bombs under the Senate and Temple?"

"Or activate them," Quinlan said gently.

Obi-Wan scowled. "Don't joke about that—I would never—"

"I know," the psychometric interrupted, tone careful. "I know you wouldn't. But you could."

Obi-Wan shifted uneasily, staring at his plans again. It...had occurred to him of course, that an unscrupulous actor could do tremendous damage with the information he had painstakingly acquired. It had been difficult, to thread the line of giving Sidious and his allies the rope they needed to hang themselves, while still making sure he could pull it taught at the critical juncture. He had been proud of how he had managed, but the end result was...an awful lot of power. Consolidated in his hands, instead of Palpatine’s.

“I still couldn’t—this still isn’t enough to actually control the galaxy, that’s the point. Sidious needs war to break out first, and he needs to be seen as the one whose ending it, first—it’s the only way to get the more influential democratic systems to give up their powers. Anyway, back to the point, I obviously would rather not take away the clone’s freewill, even with something as innocuous as Order 6, which is why I need you to disable the orders at the command center.”

“Yes, Obi-Wan, I’m on board with the plan, I just—” Knight Vos pressed his hands to his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I can’t believe I have to explain this to you—you already have the power that Sidious would need a war to achieve.”

“What are you talking about? No I—”

“You’re rich!” Vos burst into motion, flipping frantically through glowing screens to pull up the distribution of BK’s funding. “You’re funding the non-partisan corruption watchdog movement, and providing social services—if that was public knowledge—if any of this was public knowledge—you would instantly be a shoo in for Supreme Chancellor.”

"That’s...an exaggeration,” Obi-Wan protested.

“Is it?” Quinlan asked manically. “You are in the top 10,000 wealthiest people in the galaxy. And, unlike the other 9,999, your funds are clean. No trade federation, no blanking clans, no mining guilds. Just incredibly popular music and ridiculously smart and/or lucky investments in value neutral to actively humanitarian businesses. Can you imagine how much the good leaders would respect you, if they found out all this? How much the gold-diggers would try to cozy up to you, when they find out that you’re just giving away your multiple fortunes, try to encourage you to invest in infrastructure projects on their homeworlds—”

"I—”

“And that’s not even the whole picture! That’s just where the money is coming from, and how it’s being used. BK already has a cult. People adore him. The clones already feel like the owe him, since it’s public knowledge that he’s a major supporter for the resettlement program—when they learn about the anti-chip stuff—Obi-Wan Kenobi is going to have statues put up once you uncover Sidious’s plots—”

“I don’t want people to know about the vode’s chips—integration is difficult enough already,” Obi-Wan said lowly.

“Yes, fine,” Quinlan said, pulling up the alarming schematics of the droid foundries. “The trade federation’s still on thin ice after the documentation of their maneuvers of Naboo—When the galaxy sees these—learns you're blowing them all up before they pull a Naboo on the entire galaxy—they’re going lose their minds. Obi-Wan, it would be so easy for you to control the galaxy right now. I know the Sith did the groundwork and you were just ripping away the reins from the guy who actually did want that, but you were scarily successful. You actually have the narrative that Palpatine is trying to fake.”

Quinlan paused, smirking. “And you’re way hotter. Pretty sure if you came out in all black and said you want to grind the galaxy to dust beneath your heel, people would line up to get stepped on.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, falling back into a chair. “...I don’t...I didn’t...see it that way.”

The Kiffar Knight sighed. “Like I said if it was anyone else—but you’re you, and I’m me, and I 100% believe you when you say you successfully plotted total galactic domination accidentally. Just...let’s pull the rug out from this guy’s feet before we tell the council, or I think they’ll have to arrest you.”

(rest of this au here)

#star wars #my au #pop star wars au #star wars au no 3 #I am a little sorry for not posting this story REMOTELY in order #this au lives in my head all day everyday y'all are just getting the parts that spillover #it's just really not about the plot #but plot happened anyway because I delved to deep and too greedily #crack

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pricemarshfield · 3 years

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for candia

Written for Day 1 of @acocweek: Fluff + Theobald. Read on AO3 here.

Theobald, as always, is the first awake.

Things are different than they used to be, of course. He wakes up with a marauder curled into his side murmuring violent nothings in her sleep and a licorice snake biting his hand affectionately, rather than alone. The guards are made up of a mix of Tartguard and North-Gumbian Knights and Saccharina's collection of nobodies that Theo has yet to corral into training. Saccharina lets him sit at her side during every meeting--encourages it, actually, wonders aloud about round tables and councils and more democratic processes of enacting law in front of visiting dignitaries who stare at her staff with wonderment and fear.

There's also still a tangible air of mourning around the place, too. One of the Tartguard started wailing when he saw Princess for the first time, and they'll be repairing the damage to the castle for years.

But what a job to supervise all of this!

"Limey," Theo says with a nod to his new second-in-command, who salutes. "What news do we have for the day?"

"Nothing much, sir," says Limey. "Her Majesty the Queen Saccharina continues to insist we don't need to salute her, but we've maintained proper etiquette anyway."

"Fantastic," Theo says. "Continue on."

"There is one thing," Limey says, and his tone is more confused than nervous, so he doesn't reach for the battle pop. "All of the left shoes in the barracks disappeared overnight."

"...what?"

"All of the left shoes in the barracks disappeared overnight, sir," Limey says. "No one saw anything, and while that's not an especially expensive thing to replace, it is worrying that someone was able to slip past our defenses."

Ordinarily, Theo would be incredibly worried about someone who could sneak into the barracks and out without being spotted, especially carrying what must have been dozens of shoes. But he hears a familiar snort from somewhere above him. When he looks up, no one's there, but that's to be expected. She's good.

"I'll retrieve those shoes posthaste, Limey," Theobald says. "Tell the men not to worry."

"They're not, mostly," Limey says, but Theo's already wandered off, holding his arm out so Princess can keep an eye out, too. She doesn't seem to be especially invested, snoozing on his arm and hissing when he tries to lower it.

"Ruby," Theo calls. "I know you're nearby. Come on."

No response, no sound of footsteps, no flickering shadows. This'll take the big guns.

---

"Ruby did what?" Saccharina says, lounging on her throne, and bursts into a fit of giggles.

"My Queen," Theo says, a familiar headache already forming behind his eyes. "This is serious."

"Sure, yeah," Saccharina says. "All the left shoes in the barracks? Even Jon Bon's? Oh, that's gross. Wait, is everyone just hopping around? Also, just call me Saccharina."

"My Queen Saccharina," he says, and she frowns at him, fiddling with a small magical trinket she'd found somewhere in the castle. "The morale of the men is important. We were able to take the castle without heavy losses, but not without losses entirely."

"Hm." The Queen stands up, shakes her head when he automatically moves to kneel. "She is the Imperial Princess now, and I don't think pranks are gonna hurt morale. Tell whoever's in charge of it that I authorize new shoes to be bought. I've got this whole treasury now, anyway, what else would I do with it?"

Theo takes a deep breath. "I think--" Saccharina waits, raising a brow at Theo's pause. He doesn't normally get this far. "I think that Ruby should probably apologize. And return the shoes."

Saccharina's mischievous smile looks a lot like her sister's. "Sure. And you can tell her that if you can find her."

There's a sudden laugh from behind him, and when Theo swings his head around, he sees only the back of the throne room.

He sighs. In for a long day, apparently.

---

The Imperial Princess Ruby of House Rocks doesn't have tutors here. She's on vacation, officially and in practice. Well-deserved after the war, of course, even if Theo doesn't understand the appeal of a week or month or two without structure. He'd have thought, after everything, that pranks were beneath her, that perhaps she'd even take an active role in governance!

Instead, Ruby seems to have decided Saccharina's challenge for Theo to find her cannot go unmet.

He hasn't seen her all day, even though the Bulb is high in the sky, but the impact of her actions is everywhere. Frosting along the floors that he slipped on, causing a Tartguard pile-up. Little bursts of sparks set to trigger when he opens doors and windows that startle him enough that Princess bites him. The worst offender is when he turns down a hallway only to see piles and piles of shoes, because when he gets back, they're all gone. The other Knights of North-Gumbia, to their credit, are completely understanding.

"The princesses were always fond of japes, weren't they, sir?" Limey asks. Princess hisses and curls around his neck in what he thinks is an affectionate gesture.

"They were," Theo says. Once, he'd woken up, sat up, and stretched only to get a tray of whipped cream directly to the face. Jet and Ruby hadn't been half as good at stealthing away as Ruby is now, but it'd taken him long enough to wipe it off his face that he'd only seen Jet glance back and snort with laughter.

Nothing had happened. Caramelinda had been visiting House Meringue for a family wedding and Amethar had found it hysterical. They had apologized in their own way, after--no escape attempts for an entire fortnight.

He shakes himself of his nostalgia with the help of Princess biting his ear, and as he gently untangles her from his helmet, he says, "Right. Well, keep the search up. She can't hide from us forever."

---

Two days, six hours, and roughly thirty minutes after he makes that statement, he's not so sure. No one's admitted to seeing Ruby, though Saccharina's eyes had sparkled with mirth and kept glancing up to a corner behind him as if daring him to break court etiquette and check. He's checked the secret passages he knows, he's enlisted the help of the marauders (Swifty had only threatened to stab him once during the conversation, so he thinks they're genuinely looking), he's used every spell he knows and considered looking up new ones.

New pranks pop up around the castle, of course. A few meeps let loose in the hallways, frightening a visiting dignitary. Flooding one of the kitchens with cola. Cushions that make it sound like you're farting on every chair except the throne.

"Ruby seems to be sparing you from her onslaught," Theo says to the Queen, watching as Annabelle Cheddar stares at herself in one of the room's mirrors, hair turned a bright Candian purple.

"Yeah," Saccharina says with a wide smile. "She is! It's really cool! I've never had anyone comfortable enough around me who cared me enough to do pranks without me being the target!"

Theo, not knowing how to respond to that, is incredibly thankful for the sixth prank of the day: an explosion of scraps of paper that covers every inch of the room. The paper seems to be mostly made up of old letters from the other nations. They're important, and them being destroyed is terrible, and they will have words about it later, but he can't bring himself to mind too much right now.

Because with all the paper everywhere, he sees the little breeze she makes in her escape, and the direction she runs in after.

---

If he chases after her now, he'll lose her, and who knows if he'll ever get another lucky break like that again. So he waits. Endures waking up covered in Fructeran vino, deals with diplomats' outrage at not being greeted by the Imperial Princess herself, keeps checking secret passages in entirely different parts of the castle just to throw her off the trail. He doesn't say anything to anyone about it, because he's not especially good at deception.

The final prank: a veritable army of chocolate frogs released while Saccharina holds court. It explains why she's been holding back laughter the entire time, but that's a problem for later. For now, he sprints across the room, vaulting over one of the Tartguard, and heads in the direction he'd seen her run before.

There's a few secret passageways this way, but he's checked those. When he reaches a dead end, he looks around, thinks--casts knock on the wall. Sure enough, it pushes open, and on the other side is Ruby Rocks, mouth open in shock.

"Ruby!" Theo calls.

"Damn it," she says. "How'd you even--it doesn't matter."

"You have many things to apologize for, your Imperial Highness," Theo says, walking over to try and pick her up and carry her back to the throne room. She could escape, probably, but it's at least a start.

"That's not true!" Ruby says. "I've been helping a ton of people."

"What, people who needed specifically left shoes? Annabelle secretly asked you to dye her hair purple?" Ruby snorts. "See! Come on, Princess."

"No, seriously," Ruby says. "Look, I did this because it's funny, but it's bringing the mood up around here! Morale!"

Theo blinks at her. "What? Stealing people's things? Ruining their day?"

"Pranks," Ruby says with a nod. "Look. Pay attention to the way people are acting and talking about all of it. I'll be back here in a few hours if you still wanna try and get me grounded."

"Your sister's not going to ground you," Theo says, and Ruby grins up at him.

It's definitely a trick. He's fallen for similar tricks before. He shouldn't this time.

"If you're not back here," Theo says, and Ruby laughs, half-tackles him in a hug, runs past him, and jumps out a window. He doesn't hear a thud or yelp of pain, so he assumes it's probably fine.

He hadn't even thought to check outside, had he? Hopefully, she'll keep her word and he won't have to. Not much else to do now that she's already escaped.

---

When he walks back to the throne room, Saccharina's holding a chocolate frog with a look of fascination and disgust, Primsy's already got one in a box that she's attempting to feed sugar-grass, and Liam is visibly holding himself back from target practice, hands twitching towards his crossbow.

"I must say," he overhears one of the Tartguard say as he takes his place by Saccharina's left side. (Gooey's at the right, still. Had very, very easily won that argument.) "While these pranks are quite improper, you can't deny they're incredibly humorous!"

"Good sir!" says another Tartguard, and one of the marauders behind him rolls her eyes, but has a smile on her face too. "I have to say, I agree. It was nice to have a bit of liveliness around here!"

One of the Fructeran diplomats is upset, but soothed easily after his partner reminds him that he can tell this story before the Imperial Court, always so focused on adventures. The Dairy Islanders seem more excited to avoid courtly talk than anything. One Meatlander is holding a chocolate frog with a look that can only be described as adoring, even as it shits in his hand.

All-in-all, the atmosphere of the room is rather...jovial. Not at all like the quiet mournfulness of the first week of their reign. There's still the holes in some of the walls from their siege, and there's still the palpable loss of the chancellor and the princess, but people seem happy. People are laughing.

When he goes back to the secret passageway--opened apparently by twisting a statue of Sapphria so that she's facing the window--Ruby's there, shifting on her feet.

"You do have to return the shoes," Theo says, and Ruby's shoulders slump. "But--"

"Yes!" Ruby says. "I knew you'd get it. Well, I hoped you'd get it. Gooey's mellowed you out."

"I--that's--we're not talking about Gooey," Theo blusters. "The shoes need to go back."

Ruby snorts. "I did that so we'd get new shoes. Dad told me all about trench foot."

"What?" Theo says. "That's not even a little bit of an appropriate topic for conversation. Especially at court. If you'd just go to your lessons--"

"I don't even have lessons here," Ruby says, and he's so distracted by responding to that with an emphatic 'you should' that he doesn't notice the tray of whipped cream until it's already in his face.

"Bye, Theo!" Ruby calls, already dashing away from him.

He sighs. "Bye, Ruby."

#acocweek #theobald gumbar #ruby rocks #a crown of candy #dimension 20 #my fics

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born-to-lose · 3 years

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Destruction - Comments to "Release From Agony"

Translation for @heavy-metal-himbo-king under the cut

Fortunately, the deathrow self check went down well with you, so we tried to find another band who were just working on an album at the completion time of this issue and who also seemed to be mentally able to comment on that opus.

Since the majority of our readers are probably more thrash fans than pop metal devotees, it should be a band from the speed/thrash sector again. And we were lucky! While we were preparing the production of the magazine at hand, the group around Schmier was already just ahead of the end mix in the Münsteran KARO studios. The band had already had good experience with this studio with the "Mad Butcher" project and therefore decided to record the "Release from Agony" LP there as well.

But now for the several tracks of the LP which Schmier tried to comment on. And - this should be noted in advance - he did a great job...

Beyond Eternity

The classical introduction to the LP! Of course it was Harry's idea because he's totally thrilled by classical things. "Beyond Eternity" actually got quite good because the track wasn't composed until we were in the studio. We definitely wanted to start the LP intro-like; I like cool intros.

Release from Agony

The title song which lyrically approaches the subject nightmare; that's also associated with the cover. The lyrics are very depressing, the song itself is probably the fastest on the LP. By the way, we're particularly proud of the cover because a professional illustrator from Vienna painted it specifically based on the lyrics of the title track. Perhaps one of my favorite songs of the new LP with a classically melodic solo; besides, the backing vocals were contributed by Mille and Ventor.

Dissatisfied Existence

A quite technical song - with many changes in tempo and breaks. Strong solo by Mike and Harry. The meaning of life is the theme of the lyrics. The question of the meaning of life crosses everybody's mind, I think! I got the idea for the lyrics based on questions I have often asked myself. Just a topic that has crossed my mind plenty of times and still does; somehow I still haven't found the answer.

Sign of Fear

The ludically best piece of the LP. Very halting song, very heavy and totally varied with many acoustic guitar inputs too. Also the longest piece on the LP; a very mystical song - actually really unusual for us. Maybe that's why I think it's surely among the two best songs. Lyrically, it's about the fear of the future regarding female acquaintanceships. At some point the time could come when you can't trust anyone - in terms of diverse diseases.

Unconscious Ruins

Good speed song with a halting middle section - kind of typical of us. It was the first new song we wrote together after "Reject Emotion". The lyrical message of "Unconscious Ruins" is that we precipitated into ruin with our eyes closed... most people think just closing their eyes and pretending everything was completely harmless... with this method they try to downplay the situation "World War III". Yet most of them are just too coward to realize how close the world is to the edge! Fuck man - really depressing, these lyrics.

Incriminated

Semi-fast song with totally speedy middle section. Epic guitar riffs, good chorus. Incriminated was the last song we wrote for the new album. In my opinion it's also the song with the most mature lyrics. It simply states that I'm sick of being labeled as a German Nazi. Are the events from about 45 years ago when a lunatic terrorized everyone my fault? I only know this baloney from history books - and then I should carry any responsibility. I believe that even without this eternal Nazi claptrap - especially from Americans - many a German certainly feels rather unsettled. Anyway, I personally can't stand being associated with the word Nazi.

Our Oppression

Nice guitar runs - goes like a train, the song. The slow middle section is surely one of the most successful parts of the new album. Nice solo by Harry which follows on the slow section. Lyrically, the song expresses the dissatisfaction with the German system, which isn't as democratic in my eyes as everybody always says.

Survive to Die

Very complicated song - partially slightly jazzy. Totally good refrain and of course the song contains one of the best solos of the LP. Definitely the most progressive track of the LP too; above all, you can hear very clearly how good Olly has warmed up in the band. The background was contributed by the boys from "Poltergeist" - not only on this track, but also on a few others, by the way. Lyrically, it's about how you can't determine your destiny, which means the thought "enjoy every minute of your life because you only live to die". It can go incredibly fast. A pretty frustrating song to which we added "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller in contrast - self-played obviously. I think it became a good final gag.

This time the lyrics are very serious, about things that annoy me and certainly many others too. Therefore we wanted to prove with the funny outro that we haven't lost our humor.

Best regards from us to all Horror Infernal readers...

Schmier & Destruction

#sorry this took me so long again #my translation #destruction #destruction band

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shannonhutchins · 3 years

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sending our boys josh nd toby back at u pls ! also sam if u would like to

Okay so uh these got long! Because of that I'm going to split the characters up into different posts--naturally I started with Josh because of course I did.

There are references to self harm so please be aware!

The first year at Harvard is Hard for Josh. Like he’s not in danger of like failing out or anything but one of his poli sci professors does take him aside after a month in and tells him he needs to pull it together. The professor is like “this is the big leagues kid and the connections and impressions here matter almost more than your actual grades” and the talk makes Josh so anxious. School has never been easy for him because of his dyslexia—he’s always had to try harder than most to get the same amount of work done. Josh has always been self-conscious about his learning disability and to this day only his mom, Donna, Toby, Sam, and Abbey know because he’s too embarrassed to tell anyone else or ask for help. But anyways, back to the Harvard idea after that talk Josh throws himself into school with such a one-track mind and signs up for as many study groups as he can. He’s really fucking proud of the fact that he made the Dean’s List all but one semester (and he will never talk to anyone about That Semester).

Josh is gay. He dates a lot of women growing up because that’s what he thought he was supposed to be doing but he always stared at certain men for a few beats longer than what could be deemed like *okay* but he doesn’t come out until midway through the Bartlet presidency. The first person in DC he told was Matt Skinner who just smirked at Josh like he always knew, and he promises to keep his secret until he’d ready to like to come out for real. Matt was so helpful in helping Josh navigate the whole coming out process and Josh is incredibly grateful to have him in his corner. The first person he truly tells is his mom when she visits one holiday and Ruth is a trooper just telling him that he’ll always be *her son* and nothing can ever change that. Josh is so relieved at how well his mom takes the whole thing because part of the reason he stayed in the closet for so long is because he worried his mom would be disappointed and he was a bit short of family members so he felt like he couldn’t take that chance? But telling her and being instantly accepted makes Josh cry.

Josh has a history of self-harm. He usually leaves marks in places most people won’t be able to see—like his hip bones and upper legs for example—and only when he was younger did, he cut around his wrists and more visible places. Leo found out when Josh was at Harvard and Ruth and Noah called him asking if he could look in on Josh because he wasn’t returning their calls. Leo never in a million years thought he’d walk in on Josh *like that* he figured Josh was just frazzled with end of semester things which was why he wasn’t getting back to his parents. Leo will take to his grave the image of Josh with a knife in one hand and red crimson dripping down his leg—Josh makes Leo swear he won’t tell his parents and tells him he only does this when it just gets too loud in his head. Leo makes Josh swear back that he’ll call when things get that bad again and Josh true to his word does and no matter what time it is Leo will pick up the phone and drone on to Josh about what stupid things Democrats are doing on the hill. No one else from senior staff know about the self-harm until Rosslyn—they all see the scars while Josh is in the hospital. Josh is self-conscious about the ones on his wrist so much that the minute he can stand it he asks Toby to help him into a long-sleeved shirt because he just can’t take the staring anymore.

Okay so this is a HC based on my Gaza AU arc that I SWEAR I will finish and post. Ya know one day. As a result of the explosion Josh loses partial mobility in one of his legs so he has to use a cane. Like the day his physical therapists told Josh he was devastated, and he locked himself in his room and wouldn’t even come out for Toby because like it’s a lot to get used to? He never expected to not 100% recover—even after Rosslyn he recovered with minimal physical setbacks so he just assumed this would be the same with just more work? Josh glares at the cane for a week straight whenever he’s reminded that he *needs* to use it. Toby gives Josh a week to mope and get his head around this new reality before he sits him down and tells him he needs to get over himself, tells him the cane doesn’t make his any less of anything, and that Toby didn’t wait through 2 surgeries that lasted 14+ hours only for Josh to resent living even if his life wasn’t the same as it was before. The day Josh steps back into the White House cane and all Josh is nervous—he hates the idea of walking into the white house so visibly off kilter, but Abbey greets him at the gate and welcomes him as if she was her son and brings him to see Jed first thing and Jed jokes that they should get matching canes and Josh laughs. He never 100% accepts needing to use the cane but his outlook on it drastically improves the longer he uses it and sees that people don’t treat him any differently.

Josh likes to wear dresses and skirts! I don’t make the rules the boy just DOES okay. He usually only wears them inside his apartment and he’s more likely to wear them when he’s stressed—he loves the different fabrics and styles and how they feel against his skin. It just feels nice and when Donna and CJ find out they always make it a point to pick up stuff that they think Josh will like when they are out shopping together. The first Monday Josh finds a box of clothes in his office and he opens it up to see what it is he *melts* because he realizes how lucky he is to have these people in his life. These people who accept him unconditionally. The first time Toby sees Josh is a short skirt he feels like he could faint—in a good way he rushes to tell Josh.

#the west wing #josh lyman #toby ziegler #leo mcgarry #cj cregg #donna moss #shannon writes #callixton #tw: self harm

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

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‘HUMO’s big youth survey - Politics, society and religion’ - With Nora Dari (part 1)

- TW: corona pandemic, mental health, sickness, religion, islamophobia, racism, cancel culture -

Who better to test out the results of HUMO’s brand new ‘youth survey’ than a trio of three young gods? Bouba Kalala (23) made the switch between ‘Studio Brussel’ and the social media-team of the ‘SP.A’ - sorry, ‘Vooruit’. Céleste Cockmartin (21), daughter of sexologist and politician Goedele Liekens, just started her third year of neuropsychology in Maastricht. Nora Dari (19) portrays the beautiful Yasmina in the wildly popular ‘wtFOCK’. ‘If we don’t rise up to the streets, a lot of things will remain the same.’

- Note from hopetofantasy: ‘SP.A’, soon to be rebranded as ‘Vooruit’, is a social democratic political party -

For the past quarter of the century, HUMO surveyed every new batch of youngsters, but never before did we had to include a pandemic in our questionnaire. It’s a first! And even though the youth isn’t the most popular target of the virus, they’ll emerge from the corona crisis with scars on them too.

Half of young people thinks life will never return to what it was before. The girls are even more pessimistic than the boys. Nora Dari: “I wouldn’t call us pessimistic: we weren’t on the right track at all. This is one big wake-up call. I’ve never felt as alone yet together as during lockdown. On social media, we were already used to our own bubble. Then suddenly, all these bubbles began to look the same and everyone kept talking about the same thing.”

Bouba Kalala: “For one moment, the crisis showed us how good the world could be. I even started to cry at the drone images of VTM. I think we’ll bring that unity with us to the post-corona era.” Nora Dari: “When my mom stepped on the bus with her hijab before this, she would have gotten the side-eye. Now people scowl at those without mouth-masks. Weird how fast everything can change.” Bouba Kalala: “My grandpa experienced the war, we lived through a pandemic. Shit happens. When the Germans threw bombs on England, everyone re-emerged after the bombardments, re-opened their shops and even made jokes about it - ‘Everything at explosive prices!’. That’s what we should do now: we have to take corona seriously and follow the measures, but being scared won’t help us more forward.”

Do young people have to give up too much, because of the corona crisis? Almost one out of three think they do. Céleste Cockmartin: “I don’t have the feeling I’m giving up on a lot. But young people really do try and avoid infecting the elderly. When I’m in Maastricht and only see my peers for weeks at a time, then I’ll be less restrained. But when visiting my parents, I’m very careful. It’s just a matter of not being selfish. What’s so difficult about wearing a mask and disinfecting your hands?” Nora Dari: “Quite a lot of people don’t believe in masks.” Bouba Kalala: “Really? I don’t know anyone who dismisses the rules and says: ‘I’m going to go anywhere and do what I want.’ But those that do, get a story in the news. As if every young person doesn’t give a fuck.” You do? Bouba Kalala: “I have to: my grandpa who’s 84, is staying with us. I did sin once, though. Going to a friend’s house for some drinks, other friends come over and suddenly you’re with ten people.” Nora Dari: “I’ve had corona and I was scared to death that I’d infect my parents. So I locked myself up in my bedroom for two weeks.” Céleste Cockmartin: “Seriously? I wouldn't be able to handle it mentally if I couldn't go out.” Nora Dari: “But I was incredibly sick, so the solitary confinement didn’t bother me. I’ve binged all there was to binge on Netflix.” Bouba Kalala: “And your sense of smell and taste?” Nora Dari: “Still gone! I can’t taste anything. Us, Moroccans, drink mint tea every day. Now, a month later, it still tastes like water.” Did the virus change you? Nora Dari: “I’m pretty religious. Corona has given me even more the understanding that everything is in God’s hands.” Faith is on the rise again: the number of young people claiming they’re atheist or non-religious declined from 50 to 41 percent. Céleste Cockmartin: “Everyone is looking for meaning and answers. I search these answers in science.” Bouba Kalala: “For me, science and God have the same worth. Believers can’t prove there is something, but science can’t disprove it either.” You believe there’s something? Bouba Kalala: “Yes, but what? I believe in the universe, the force of attraction, the power of positive thinking... I don’t want to sound too much like a hippie, but I also believe in the paranormal and UFOs. (*Céleste and Nora laugh out loud*) What? UFOs are my hobby. Even the American army admits there is something, so there must be something (*laughs*).” Nora Dari: “I often hear it: young people believe in something, but they don’t know (yet) in what they believe.” It’s all clear to you. Nora Dari: “Yes. I’m lucky to be born in a muslim family, but even then, there’s a moment where you think: is this the religion that really defines me? I’ve done research and began reading books, but my heart truly connected with the Islam. It feels like true love.” Céleste Cockmartin: “I can be jealous about that. I think it’s a shame sometimes, that I don’t have that faith. It seems to be a good solace during the hard times. For a lot of people, faith isn’t much more than a form of meditation.” Bouba Kalala: “The grandma from a friend of mine passed away recently. I found it hard to comfort her. I don’t have that issue with my Moroccan or Turkish friends, because we know she’s with God. The idea that she isn’t gone, brings peace.” In 2015, when we were still discussing the imminent terror attacks, 9 percent called themselves muslim. Now it’s 17 percent. Nora Dari: “I think it’s related to the terrorists. Because of them, muslims and non-muslims started asking questions about Islam. People studied the religion and concluded that it’s actually really beautiful.” When you were 13, you wore a hijab for a while. Nora Dari: “As a young girl, I often visited the community center in Winterslag. It closed down by the time I went to high school. From a tiny school with only two Belgians without an immigration background, to a school with a handful of muslims. Suddenly the world seemed bigger. I needed something familiar, something I could join and where I felt included. That was the Islam. After two years, I realized that my choice to wear the hijab, was too hasty. I wore it so I wouldn’t feel alone, but when I got older, I understood: I’m not alone. With or without hijab, God’s always with me.” Will you wear it again some day? Nora Dari: “I hope so. If someone asks me why I don’t wear it, I don’t have an excuse. It’s something so beautiful. Yet, right now, it doesn’t feel as if it’s something I need to do.” Do you feel, as a muslim, that you’re less of a target than a few years ago? Nora Dari: “Yes. That’s connected with the trend of being woke, being aware of everything and refusing to think anything is bad. Due to this, a lot of youngsters are becoming less critical. Which is a shame.” And here I thought, young people were only positive about being woke? Nora Dari: “But what is the meaning of ‘being woke’?” I was hoping you could tell me. Nora Dari: “No one knows. Everyone pretends to know (*laughs*).” Bouba Kalala: “That’s being woke, I think: not knowing everything, stop pretending like you have all the answers.” Nora Dari: “You know what bothers me? That we live in such a cancel culture. One bad tweet and you’re cancelled for life. There’s nothing woke about that?” Bouba Kalala: “Without social media, we wouldn’t have cancel culture: every brain fart continues to exist on the internet. Years later, someone will dig up a wrong statement and use it to take you down.” Nora Dari: “Young people would do well, if they followed the people they don’t agree with on social media.” Bouba Kalala: “Yes!” Nora Dari: “If I'd follow Dries Van Langenhove (= extreme right politician / activist) tomorrow, my followers would throw a fit: ‘Do you agree with him?’ No, the exact opposite! But how can I understand how he thinks, if I don’t follow him? If I only followed people whom I agree with, I’ll get tangled up into my own truths. The world doesn’t stop with my own Insta page.” Céleste Cockmartin: “That’s being woke: talking with your opponents. I once started a conversation with Dries Van Langenhove. I ran into him in Ghent, at the time of the ‘Schild & Vrienden’ TV report. I had to know: what’s the deal with that group? Unfortunately the conversation wasn’t very clear - it was the nightlife neighborhood. But I’ll stick with my statement: start a conversation with dissendents.” And the youth of today doesn’t do that? Nora Dari: “Not at all. We rather cancel each other.” Bouba Kalala: “I already know that I’ll get racist bullshit hurled at me after this interview. I've learned not to care. Hate posts are good for my algorithm.” You don’t reply to them? Bouba Kalala: “I do, every time. One time, I argued for hours with someone who sent a racist tweet. I kept going: ‘Why do you say that, Arno? Do you realize this hurts?’. In the end, he even thanked me. I went to my mom, showed her the conversation and we’ve high-fived each other. I know that Arno will vote for Vlaams Belang (= extreme right political party) again, but he did say ‘thank you’, while he started with that sick tweet.”

#wtfock #wtfam #part 1 of ...#because my Tumblr keeps glitching #I'm dropping part one already #nora dari

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

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treason against kingly youth, pt i of ii

summary: somehow, you survived the 2020 election. now, all you have to do is get a know-nothing white man into the senate. should be easy enough.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3223

trigger warnings: rpf, white dudes doin White Dude Things

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

For a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, really breathe. One, big breath in that clears the stress from your muscles, drops your shoulders, lets your whole body sag against the decade-old chair that you’re surprised hasn’t crumbled under the weight of your ever-tense body and its corresponding sins.

It’s a mere six feet away that everyone else you’ve worked with for the past three years with – the people you went through sleepless nights, long road trips, greasy food from mom and pop diners with the middle of assfuck nowhere, registering voters and writing up another plan for every fucking thing wrong with America (low teacher pay? Check. Electoral college ruining democracy? Check. Criminalization of homosexuality? Check. Private school sucking the life out of public schools? The monopoly artificially inflating prices on glasses up to 400%? The disparity between the number of men’s and women’s bathrooms in federal buildings? Check, check, check) – each and every person celebrates with wine and whiskey and any other alcoholic beverages they can get their underpaid hands on. It’s not even the cheap stuff, no, this is top shelf liquor. This is D-Day, “we’ve got an hour before the nuclear missile hits” liquor.

There are two times people go this all-out on their spirits – the end of the world, and the end of an election (though, to some, they’re the same thing).

But not you. Never pitiful little you. Pitiful little campaign manager you doesn’t rest, doesn’t get to stop pulling rabbits out of hats and money from single moms and votes out of college students.

There’s three TVs in front of your desk, each playing a different news station and each anchor drowning the others out. It’s a cacophony of white noise, and not because

The only voice, the only singular voice that has cemented itself into this far, previously blissfully unattended corner of your brain. You can hear her, feel her own on your shoulder – you can see her leaning against her old desk nestled in her home back in Massachusetts.

“I want you to be my chief of staff. You ran my campaign better than I could have asked for, and I would be incredibly lucky and blessed to have you run my White House.”

Your own voice rings next, always shakier than the time previous.

“I can’t do that,” your sigh gets deeper each time, too. “You know I can’t.”

Somehow, her voice always gets more confident. It’s one of those things about her, about the way she carries herself. If she’s faking that confidence you’d never know. “I know, but I’ll always tell you that there’s a place for you at the White House as long as I have something to say about it.”

In the sea of blue and red and white confetti and streamers and all the other shit people use to celebrate when their party wins an election, the thick, bleached white of your laptop screen stares back at you more menacingly than any Republican – winning or losing - you’ve ever met.

You’d like to think you are the kind professional that is never caught off guard, the kind of woman who can expect anything. But as the email that’s derailed your plan for the next four years stares back at you, the all-caps subject line feels more like the headlights of an 18-wheeler to a deer in the middle of a highway than an excellent career opportunity.

Still, with malt liquor in hand, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll make all of this just a little bit easier.

A little less than five hundred miles away, Christopher Robert Evans is the drunkest he’s ever been, surrounded by the same men he’s known since his freshman year of high school, yelling nonsensically as one of his current senators becomes the president-elect of the most power country on Earth.

The only coherent thing to leave the man’s mouth the entire night is oh so wonderfully caught on a friend’s iPhone and will – quite likely – be posted to some social media site by the next morning.

The video (which you will eventually be seeing at your first meeting with the Boston native) shows him in a Harvard sweatshirt (a university he did not attend), deep blue skinny jeans, and a Patriots hat balanced just enough to show his (possibly) thinning hairline. There, between his two best friends, he screams in his played-up Boston accent at the top of his lungs:

“I’M GOING TO BE A SENATOR, BITCHES!”

But you, back in D.C., are blissfully unaware of the long road ahead of you. So, you enjoy your malt liquor, and your small bit of quiet on election night – a sign of the muted calm before the political shitstorm ahead of you.

You end up not replying to said email the next morning (see: seven hours later after falling asleep in your chair for about five hours and then browsing angry GOP Twitter accounts while cackling into a cup of the blackest coffee you’ve ever tasted for the other two), confirming you’d be willing to work for Christopher Robert Evans’ campaign to run for the current president-elect’s soon-to-be open senate seat.

Or, at least confirming you’d speak to the Evans family to talk about running the campaign of the whitest man under the age of forty you’ve ever seen. Whether or not you ended up attempting to control what is likely another dumpster-fire campaign in a series of dumpster-fire campaigns. Harris is the one that comes to mind, but drawing any parallels between that woman and this man feels borderline offensive.

Plus, her senate run was successful. And she held elected office before that.

Why did you agree to do this again?

Right, you need money. So much money. All of the money. At least enough money that you can be bought from straight under the White House, which just so happens to be the amount the Evans estate offered you in exchange for your services.

Maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in a conference room in an expensive office building, looking up at Chris Evans as his face turns red and your heart rate picks up.

“I’m Massachusetts’s best choice!” he screams, slamming his hands onto the table – a rich brown you sort of wish you could afford to have in your own home back at the capital. Your estate sale table, even with the coat of white paint you gave it after buying it, still can’t hold a candle to the beautiful grooves and smooth top.

But this isn’t time to yearn for better interior design prospects. Now is the time to put this moderate democrat man-child in his upper-middle-class place.

“Chris, you’re the best choice for an internship for the fucking EPA,” you nearly hiss. “You’re in the intern in Vice who watched Dick Cheney make deals with those fucking oil businessmen. You’re the shiny faced bastard who watched the world burn while listening to a Walkman. Do you understand me?”

His teeth are barred like he’s about to bite at your face; luckily that man comes with an electric collar and you’ve got the controller.

“Your biggest qualification is you got a five on the AP Gov exam. You have a single living family member who has held elected office in the last five years, and he was in the House of Representatives. The House! He wasn’t even in the chamber you’re gunning to be a part of. You were an econ major with a minor in, what? Poli sci? At a mid-tier university because your family doesn’t have Kushner money to bribe your acceptance letter out of a better one. Your main job after college was working as an accountant for old fraternity because they get audited so often the IRS had to release a public statement saying they were changing their processes for such matter on college campuses. You’re so moderate you’re in the aisle playing legislative mad-libs while everyone fawns over your B+ facial hair and C- chest tattoo. You’re a cute puppy at a for-profit rescue, you’re eye candy on a political television show.

“You’re the type of person who didn’t think that Gillibrand was done for before the second debate. That’s the problem with you. I mean there are lots of problems with you, but that’s the one I’m most annoyed with right now. It’s not that you can’t understand patterns or see what’s going on around you. It’s that you were never forced to. When you walk outside in the dark, I bet you don’t look behind you, you don’t clutch your keys like claws to protect yourself. You know how much pepper spray costs? Do you know what a noisemaker does? No, you’ve never had to. You’ve never had to shield yourself from danger because the rest of the world did that for you.”

It’s then that you realize you’re both standing, your finger jabbed into the Windsor knot of his tie. Still, you don’t stop.

“You are the shell of an actual politician; you represent a safe option for right-adjacent Democrats and moderate Republicans who hate the president’s coalition and women. Especially women of color. You’re the perfect option because you stand for nothing of substance, you do nothing on your own. You’re a cover for old racist white men and moderate white women who need something to attatch their lack of political knowledge to during dinner conversations. Either you shape up, or I’m leaving this campaign and watching your inevitable fall from my office in the White House. I will drink a martini in the West Wing the day you lose, I will release a glowing endorsement of the first liberal who so much as whispers about taking your ass down. Do you understand me?”

The longest few seconds of your life pass with bated breath as you two stand there, chests rising and falling in a synced rhythm with your jaws set. It’s a stand off, neither of you willing to look away from the other’s eyes.

“Do you understand me, Evans?” you bite, getting angrier at each passing Chris says nothing. It’s not the self-reflective kind of silence, it’s the generic peanut butter when you’re too broke to afford the real stuff. It’s pasta before a marathon. It’s ads the radio station plays when they’re out of loops of the latest rape-adjacent pop hit.

It’s a filler. And it’s a bad one.

“¿Te comprende?” You’re almost yelling now, screaming in his face louder than you’ve ever screamed before. “¿Me necesitas para decirlo de nuevo?”

Another heavy pause. Chris’ voice is rough as he speaks, like ten grit sandpaper. “Yeah, I get it. I fucking get it.”

And with that, he grabs his side bag and stomps out of the conference room, grumbling something about high school Spanish and Despacito. You ignore his tantrum – unlike his father, who moves to run after him. You shoot daggers into the silver-haired ca, and he sits back down.

You push the too-sweet aftertaste of canned fruit to the back of your mouth. The thick resume paper slides out of your laptop-case-slash-important papers-folder with ease, the heavy five-hundred word essay on why you hate your job detailed in 12-font Times New Roman, pristine black letters nearly shining in the low light.

“That’s my letter of resignation,” you say, looking your boss dead in the eyes. With his jaw set the way it is, you expect to hear his teeth cracking before you could leave the boardroom.

“You know we can’t accept this,” his father says with a tone that’s much too close to a laugh. A nervous laugh, but one that makes you feel like he’s treating you as if you were a joke nonetheless. “You’re our only hope for this race.”

The second sheet of paper - or, rather, the small stack with a staple in the top right corner perfectly perpendicular to the nearest corner - hits the table next. “Then, these are my demands. Let me know by midnight tonight if you can meet them or not so I know whether or not to accept a job somewhere else.”

With that, you pick up your coat and leave.

The driver, a single mom in her mid-forties who is helping put her only son through college, laughs when you enter the backseat of her vehicle. It’s not condescending, not something you feel offended by. Rather, shame paints your face.

“Did Mr. Evans-Junior snap?” She asks as she pulls away. Her tone is knowing, too knowing. How long has she worked for the Evans anyway?

You sigh, then scream into your hands. The woman in front of you doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move a muscle as she waits for your reply. “He’s an idiot.”

The woman laughs. “That’s not what I asked, and I know you know that.”

You’re tempted to scream again, only a little louder. You don’t. “He snapped. I snapped,” you sigh again as you watch out the window. It’s late, too late for traffic to be like this. Fuck Boston. “Now I want to go home and take off my bra and wash off my make up and ger super drunk and shave all my hair off and quit my job and become a sheep herder in Iceland.”

The woman doesn’t disagree, doesn’t negate. She gives you the wonderful gift of silence until she drops you off, waving you goodbye.

“You have a good night,” she calls.

“I’ll do my best,” you shout back.

You’re alone in your apartment, dressed in the most comfortable (and expensive) pair of pajamas you own with red wine and some playlist titled an artsy version of “my life is very sad and my world is falling apart so I bought a $200 bottle of alcohol and hope I cry off my name-brand make up before I have to reemerge into the eyes of polite society,” when you get the text you’ve been dreading. It’s Chris, with his perfect capitalization and punctation and lack of emoji use. You’ve seen the way he texts the rest of the team, his family, his friends. He only pulls that shit with you.

Fuck, you think as you open the message. That kid’s really gotta loosen up. Isn’t weed legal in Massachusetts? He’s a Democrat, there’s no excuse.

He’s asking if he can come over, because of course he is. You’re just lucky the message is something closer to “I feel bad and wish to speak about it with you in person” instead of the crass “u up” you expected. Still, when the three dots at the bottom of the screen appear once again, you assume it’s going to be a picture of his junk that loads.

“Please,” is all the text says.

You acquiesce, sending him something akin to a “Fine but if you step out of line again your ass is going to be explaining why you fucked up to the cold-as-fuck pavement outside.”

You hear the knock at your door thirty minutes later (you often forget how shitty Boston traffic is), opening it to reveal the saddest white boy you’ve ever seen in your short life.

His chestnut hair is disheveled enough to indicate he’d had half of a sleepless night. This is the most casual you’ve seen him – basketball shorts with another Godforsaken Harvard hoodie with Nike sneakers – bags under his eyes completing the “sad frat boy who probably just flunked a chem exam” kind of look.

“Can I come inside?” he asks.

You sigh, trying to figure out how your life came to this. A jerk of your chin allows him entry into your small apartment, every surface littered with physical copies of presentations and a map of Massachusetts covered in stickers and sticky notes and scribbles of poll numbers from past campaigns. To Chris’ untrained eye it all looks like the homestead of a serial killer, but to anyone else on his campaign it’s his ticket to the senate. Politics is a game, a game with very public winners and losers and those who fall between; anyone who doesn’t study all of those outcomes is destined to find themselves either a) in a vacation home in the hills of Vermont drunk as hell, or b) running for president.

(You’ve considered how likely both of those possibilities are, and part of you fears he’ll do both).

There’s a heavy, awkward silence that falls over the room as you both sit down, facing each other.

“So,” you ask awkwardly. “Do you want, uh, a beer…or something?”

Chris shakes his head. “No, I’m, uh, I’m alright. Thanks.”

You sigh a little, relieved. “Good, because all I have is very expensive red wine and judging by our past interactions it is not worth having it spilled all over my white carpet.”

For a moment it’s obvious he doesn’t realize that you’re kidding, but after a few seconds of a facial expression that’s a perfect blend of concerned, rejected, and confused – he lets a little smile get past his façade.

“Yeah, uh,” he laughs. “That sounds like a bitch to clean up.”

What follows is a few minutes of incredibly awkward silence as he looks around your house once more and you take the opportunity to look at him.

It’s weird to see him in this state – it’s weird to see him as something human.

Still, you want to snap at him when he breaks the quiet.

“I want to do better,” he says, voice small. He avoids meeting your eyes, wrings his hands while he looks at the floor. “I thought about what you said and I,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I want to do better…for you.”

You sigh, placing your red wine on the side table next to you before clasping your hands together. “Look, if you’re winning this election for me-“

“I’m not,” Chris says way too defensively. You let it slide for your own sanity.

“If you’re doing this for me, you’re going to be disappointed. Mostly because what your father wants and what I want are two very different things,” Chris opens his mouth to speak again but you hold you hand up to silence him. “Listen, I have a few rules with my clients. The first one is don’t lie to me. We can talk around this all day outside the boundaries of this home, but if you can look me in the eye on my couch while I drink my wine and tell me you’re doing this for a love of the people or whatever, I’m going to need you to leave.”

Chris gives you a single silent nod.

“But, if you want to win this shitshow…” you drink the rest of the glass in a single gulp. “Then, yeah. Let’s fucking do this.”

Chris lights up.

“But, I have some rules.”

He nods silently, allowing you to continue.

You count off on your fingers. “Don’t lie to me. When I ask a question, answer it. If I don’t ask a question, answer it anyway. I want to know everything, got it?”

Chris nods.

“The only time I don’t want you to speak is when I tell you to shut the fuck up. You got that, too?”

Chris nods again.

“Good, then I have a sneaking suspicion this will work out just fine.”

#chris evans x reader #lukis writes stuff #senator evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 236-238

November 2-4 Well, it's been a hell of a few days but I have to write the journal entry sometime, I suppose. Monday night I went to bed super early and last night I was exhausted and heartsore, and today I've got a nervous stomachache that just won't quit, but if I'm journaling this year, this is going to be a pretty important inflection point. Monday was a day where not a lot happened, or not a lot I can remember at this point anyway. I made my butternut squash soup in the evening so I could take it to the precinct in the morning and put myself to bed at 10pm, several hours earlier than normal because I had to wake up at four. I didn't sleep great, but I used the Boring Books for Bedtime podcast to get me to sleep and I was able to get some rest. I also laid out my clothes ahead of time so I wouldn't have to wake my husband up at that hour just so I could get dressed. Tuesday morning I woke up, showered, dressed and packed up my bag for the precinct, all in less than an hour. I wound up cutting it a little close at the end, so when I got to the car and realized I'd forgotten my piping hot travel mug of pumpkin spice coffee with pumpkin spice creamer, I reluctantly went on without it. There was coffee from a machine at the precinct, but it definitely was not as good. But I did arrive on time, so that was good. There is a lot to do in the hour between 5am and 6am when the polls open.

My position this election was procedural specialist, which basically meant that whenever a situation cropped up that required a procedure, I was the one who went and did it. This was things like "voter with absentee ballot wants to trade it in for a regular ballot," "voter with absentee ballot does not have their ballot and will have to vote provisionally," "voter is not on the pollbook and is not 100% sure whether they are registered, but wants to vote provisionally just in case they are," "something about voter has changed, usually married name or address, and they need to fill out a new voter registration form while they are voting" and "voter has no ID/ voter wants to give us a hard time about ID and needs to fill out the confirmation of identity form before voting." There's a lot of stuff to remember, and I crammed pretty hard in the days before the election, as well as stuffing my manual with post-it flags for important topics.

During a busy election, being a procedural specialist could be pretty daunting, even overwhelming. Every unusual voter has to be handled carefully, to give their vote the best possible chance of being counted. Lucky for me, our precinct had very heavy early-voting representation. Out of 2200 registered voters, more than 1300 had voted early in person or gotten absentee ballots in the mail. We only had 398 voters all day long, which is primary-light turnout. It was a little funny because we'd staffed for a contentious and complex presidential election and had nearly double the usual staff load for an election, and all of us sat around almost all day. I wound up with only six provisional votes all day, plus four ID forms, four or five voter registration updates, and three absentee-for-regular ballot switches. Unfortunately situations seemed to crop up everytime I went to the bathroom for awhile in the morning, but I had a lot of downtime. We did have some extra staff positions that needed filled, so it was good we had some extra people. There was an outside team of four people, keeping an eye out for any trouble, handling curbside voting, and directing people to the correct door for voting or vote dropoff. We had one position for "drop box guard" because every precinct in Virginia was also an authorized drop-off location for absentee ballots on Election Day. The election board was quite concerned about the possibility that somebody might abscond with a whole damn ballot box, even though it's the size of a school-age child, so somebody had to sit next to it all day long despite the fact that we only got three dropoff ballots. And of course there were the sanitizers, people whose job was to follow every voter leaving a station and sanitize that station with disinfectant before the next voter arrived. Other than that, though, we had a lot of extra people and mainly used the day as an opportunity to train the newbies. I spent four hours in the afternoon not even working the pollbook, but watching other people work the pollbook to make sure nobody made any mistakes. It was incredibly boring. The last hour of the night, after the polls close, is even busier than the first hour of the morning. Everybody really wants to go home, and of course the registrar is chomping at the bit to get the vote totals, but everything has to be done exactly right or we all get in trouble. In Virginia, there are a dozen boxes and envelopes that need to be filled, accounted for, sealed and returned to the office at the end of the night. Each envelope needs specific paperwork, and each paper requires the right signatures. The actual used paper ballots go in their own box, marked on the top, sealed with tape, and then further sealed with three security labels signed by every officer of election. Normally with 12 officials this is not a big deal, but getting 22 names onto those labels this time was an exercise in writing very small. We were in good shape at the end of the night because we'd had no discrepancies and only one incident all day (Laptop 3 crapped out around 3pm, leaving us with two pollbooks for the rest of the day but it didn't matter because turnout was so light that we never had any lines), but it was still a lot of work. My particular job was to shepherd the provisional ballots and the provisional ballot log and make sure they got where they needed to go. I had to have a second officer of the opposing political party ("Hey, I need a Republican who isn't doing anything!") count the six ballots with me, affirm that there were six ballots on the voting log, and then sign and seal them into their envelope. After that I helped get documents into the correct envelopes and make sure that everything got sealed according to the extremely arcane rules. It was honestly the most exciting and fast paced part of the entire day, and we broke down and packed up the entire precinct in only ninety minutes. I went home exhausted to watch results, and of course it wasn't what we'd been hoping for. I can't believe so very many people are still totally ready for more of Trump's bullshit and incompetence. It honestly boggles my mind how such a hateful man gets so many otherwise reasonable people to vote for him. Even though I understood in principle the idea of a red mirage with early ballots being counted late, I was heartsick when I went to sleep and despite being exhausted, I slept very poorly. This morning the news was better, though not great. A close race means litigation, and of course Trump claimed victory overnight despite huge numbers of uncounted ballots. He is human garbage. Our Democratic congresswoman held her seat, and her opponent made a gracious concession speech that was actually eloquent and nice. It's bizarre how quickly something like that becomes an oddity. But most of the mail-in ballots were for Democrats, as predicted, and the outcome is better, though still far from certain. After all these failures of prediction, I'm afraid to believe in anything at this point. But maybe tonight I will at least get some sleep. Despite everything, life went on today. The kiddo had a day off for teacher workday because it's the end of the first quarter already. Jesus. I cleaned up the kitten room enough that my husband can now use it as the office it actually is supposed to be, so he worked in there today and I got my bedroom back. That was a high point of the day, definitely. I got my period, so that sucked, but at least I could lay in bed for awhile and not be on camera for a bunch of college students. In the morning I drove down and transported a cat to the recovery room for spaying tomorrow, which closed up another TNR site. We're picking away at our list, slow but sure, but it just keeps getting longer. There are so many cats! Later in the day, I noted that the kiddo had been using a lot of screen time and we had a discussion about whether he'd done the chores to actually earn those points. He cleaned out the dishwasher and went to clean his bathroom, and I was just about to start dinner when I heard the terrifying dual noises of running water and "MOM! THE TOILET IS FLOODING!" And it sure was, with gusto! I ripped the tank lid off and grabbed the float to stop the water running, and made the guys grab every towel in the house to get water off the floor before we gave the downstairs neighbors a bath. The flood lasted only about 30 seconds, but it put quite a bit of water on the floor. I was able to get the flapper back in place and determine nothing in the tank was actually broken, the flapper had just gotten stuck when the overflow began and it had cascaded from there. But what had caused the backup? There was no waste in the water, one small blessing, just lots and lots of disintegrating toilet paper bits. The kiddo admitted that he'd had an inspiration while cleaning the toilet. There was a lot of gunk under the rim, he had explained, and he thought that if he could get the water high enough in the bowl, it would wash away the gunk with no need to scrub. So he'd taken a bunch of toilet paper and shoved it in the toilet to block it up, gotten the bowl nice and full, and then immediately realized he'd created a situation he couldn't stop. (He seemed to have been planning to use the plunger to remove the blockage, not realizing quite how much toilet paper he was using.) He was extremely contrite about the whole thing and promised to run future brilliant cleaning ideas past a parent for review. The clog proved highly resistant to plunging, and after an hour I was almost ready to throw in the towel and call maintenance to snake the damn thing. As a last ditch effort, I completely emptied the bowl, then filled it with a bucket of the hottest water I could coax from the bathtub, and used that to plunge. It worked, and the toilet finally flushed. Whew. And then I had to make supper! I put together a nice meatloaf and preheated the oven, only for smoke to come pouring out of the damn thing. See, yesterday while I was working the polls, my husband cooked something, chili I think, in the oven, and realized that the pot he was using was much too full. He put a pan under it, but apparently the pot was much-much too full, because it overran that and the pan and got all over the oven and set off the smoke alarm. He'd wiped out the oven, but I think he missed the broiler and that's why it smoked right up again. At this point I just sighed and started looking for microwave meatloaf recipes. I did find one, and though it was not as good as oven meatloaf, it was edible, and I was really very done with household tasks for the day. Now it is getting late and I'm beat, but the nerves won't go away. It is so hard to be in the same position as four years ago, disappointed in your country, terrified to hope for anything, but clinging to the possibility that things will be okay. It hurt so badly before, even worse than now I think, because it was so shocking. I guess it's like the first time your home gets ruined by a flood versus the second time, both times your house is ruined, but the second time at least you weren't surprised that something like this could happen. I wish I knew how to get off this flood plain. On the other hand, my Tumblr post of kittens has really taken off and has over a thousand notes. Apparently I was not the only one in need of high-octane cuteness to give my brain a few seconds of peace and happiness. I'm going to try and get some sleep now, here's hoping for better dreams and better tomorrow. Please, please, please.

#quarantine #election 2020 #voting #toilet #long post

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rigmarolling · 5 years

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Five Things Abe Lincoln Did That Prove He Was A BAMF

I love Lincoln. You probably know this if you’ve listened to me talk for more than two seconds. I have a literal entire bookshelf filled with Lincoln stuff. I teared up in Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln at Disneyland. I cried so hard when I watched Lincoln (2012), that I almost started dry-heaving. I was Lincoln (sort of) for Halloween.

Is it a problem? No. It isn’t a problem, Mom. Because Lincoln was a 100% USDA-certified badass.

Don’t believe me? Here are ten things Abe did to prove he was absolutely a BAMF.

1. That time he jumped out a window to prevent a vote.

In 1840, the Illinois legislature was voting on whether or not to fund the state bank. Lincoln was a member of the Whig party, which did not require members to wear wigs, contrary to what the name suggests, but which did support saving the state bank. The opposing party, the Democrats (different political beliefs from modern-day democrats, do NOT come at me, Reddit dudebros) wanted to shut the State bank down.

It all came down to a vote...and it looked like the anti-state bank democrats were going to win. Abraham Lincoln, then a 31-year-old legislator who looked like the pioneer version of a Tim Burton character, was getting nervous.

Above: Jack Skellington, 1840.

“Shit,” he thought, probably, “We Whigs are screwed if we lose this vote. And we don’t even get to wear wigs.”

The bank-hating democrats scheduled a vote to adjourn the session, which would effectively be the nail in the state bank’s coffin. Abe was panicking. He was the de facto leader of the Whigs; he had to do something.

“Prove your mettle, boy,” he probably thought to himself in a folksy, backwoods kinda way. “Show ‘em you ain’t gonna give up.”

So Abe did what any self-respecting legislator would do when stuck between a rock and a hard place:

He jumped out the window of the legislature to stop the vote.

To be fair, Lincoln wasn’t the only one to opt for a morning act of defenestration: a bunch of the other Whigs joined in, too. The rationale was, essentially, this:

Which is peak Internet comedy, but unfortunately, it was 1840 and the Internet didn’t exist yet, so nobody appreciated the gesture and the democrats eventually wound up closing the bank, anyway.

But at least Abe showed the entire state that he appreciated Looney Tunes-esque escape tactics.

2. That time he roasted a guy during a debate with good-old self-deprecating humor.

You ever rely on self-deprecating humor to beat people to the “yes, I KNOW I am offensive” punch?

So did our 16th president, Abraham Nicole Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name.)

When Lincoln was campaigning, his biggest rival was Stephen Douglas, the Democratic contender who was nicknamed “the little giant” because he was short but a heavy hitter in politics, and also because he looks like the kind of guy that just wouldn’t shut up at parties:

Above: “Actually, I’m not racist, BUT--”

In 1858, Lincoln and Douglas held a series of seven famous political debates called, brilliantly, The Lincoln-Douglas Debates, coming to you LIVE at Rockefeller Center, with performances by the Rockettes, Anna and Elsa on Ice, AND with special guest, Seal!

These debates were THE go-to political show of the season. If you were super into who would be elected to the Illinois Senate in the mid-19th century, then holy shit, you have got to watch these two men go at each other, man, it’s like watching a tree and an angry little dog slap each other across the stage.

During the debates, Lincoln quickly became famous for his one-liners, and also because no one had ever seen a talking tree in a suit before.

In one of the debates, Douglas accused Lincoln of being two-faced. Without missing a beat, Lincoln, who had been mocked his entire life for his ungainly, scarecrow-like appearance in the same way that I just mocked him a few sentences ago, whoops...

ANYWAY.

Lincoln turned to Douglas and went, “Honestly, if I were two-faced, would I be showing you this one?”

And then the audience did this:

And then Lincoln was like:

Check. Mate.

3. That time he was so strong and such a good wrestler that nobody messed with him.

When I say “wrestler,” what do you think of?

Is it this?

Maybe this?

What about this?

Huh? What’s that you say? “What the hell is...is that Lincoln? What...what the hell is Lincoln doing in a list of wrestlers?

“Um,” I answer, “Being a wrestler.”

Because Abraham Lincoln, 6′ 4″ and all of 150-something pounds, was, in fact, an incredibly talented wrestler.

So talented, in fact, that when it came to wrestling matches, he went undefeated for most of his life.

See, Lincoln grew up in the middle of butt crack-nowhere, out in the sticks of the American frontier. Ain’t no room for sissies out on the frontier. This here’s hard-scrabble country, see, rough-livin’; you gotta spit to live; you gotta live to spit; Neosporin? I think you mean weak-ass bitch cream.

So how did rootin’ tootin’ frontier folk blow off steam? Well, when they weren’t dying of dysentery or tuberculosis or minor infections that could today be cured by steady application of Neosporin, they were wrasslin’. And when it came to the act of picking someone up and throwing them back down, nobody wrestled like 21-year-old Abraham Justine Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name.)

One look at the guy and people were like, “The hell? What’s this ancient Egyptian mummy doing in the ring?”

But the second he got going, everyone shut up. Because this guy was nuts. He was a berserker. He could defeat a guy three times his size in seconds. He could bench the Rock, probably, and not even break a sweat.

He was the nicest guy in town. But nobody--and I mean nobody--messed with Abraham Ashley Lincoln.

(Not his real middle name).

One time, Jack Armstrong, the local heavyweight champion who was the Big Bad in town and undefeated in the wrestling and “I’m a giant asshole who smashes my way through problems” arena, challenged Lincoln to a match.

“Uh oh,” everyone in the little town of New Salem, Illinois thought, “That’s it for ol’ Twig Legs Abe. He might be good, but there’s no way he can defeat Jack Armstrong. Nice knowing you, kid; it’s a shame, because you might have made a solid president.”

But Lincoln, who knew no fear and ate chains forged in the heart of a dwarven cavern for breakfast, was like, “Bring it on, bitch.”

Above: Playin’ with the boys.

Jack and Abe started sparring and Jack threw insult after insult Abe’s way. I don’t know exactly what Jack said, but it was probably the 19th century equivalent of, “You may have 2,300 Facebook friends but nobody cares about the pictures of your homemade Shake ‘N Bake chicken that you post, eggwad.”

Abe didn’t relent.

See, he was getting angry.

Really angry.

So angry, in fact, that in one fell swoop, he suddenly slammed big Jack Armstrong to the ground so hard that Armstrong passed out, cold.

Abe had won. Everyone stared at the panting, growling, 6′4″ pine tree man in reverent awe.

A fun epilogue to this story: after Jack Armstrong recovered from getting his ass handed to him by a guy who looked like an extra in a movie about the Amish, he and Abe remained steadfast buddies for the rest of their lives.

Jack just never ever insulted Abraham Jessica Lincoln again.

(Not his real middle name.)

4. The (many) times he went off into long, rambling stories during Cabinet meetings to illustrate a point.

You know how grandma and grandpa sometimes go off on tangents and you’re like, “okay, okay, get to the point.”

But grandma and grandpa don’t even respond and just keep talking about that one time in 1953 that Anne-Marie told George that no, she hadn’t gone to the corner store, why do you keep asking, George? And then I said to George, I said, George, you need to listen to Anne-Marie because she knows that the corner store is the only one in town that sells fresh-laid eggs and Butterick circle skirt patterns, but did he listen? Did he listen to me? No, he didn’t, so I went to---

You get it.

So did every single member of Lincoln’s cabinet. Because Lincoln was a consummate storyteller, for better or for worse.

(Sometimes for worse, depending on who you asked.)

Above: “One time, at band camp...”

Lincoln would interrupt important meetings about, you know, saving the Union and the soul of the country itself with anecdotes that started something like this:

Lincoln: You know, Sec. Stanton, that reminds me of a fur-trapper I knew back in Illinois--

Stanton: Great, except, Mr. President, everyone is dying--

Lincoln: Now this here fur trapper was the best fur trapper in the entire state. Not the entire country, mind you, on account of we didn’t really have a way of measuring fur-trapping skills nationwide--

Stanton: *neck turning purple* Mr. President--

Lincoln:--but definitely the best fur trapper in Illinois. Now one day, this fur trapper set out to do what he did best: shoot some raccoons, or maybe a bear, or a wolf if he was lucky, or a deer, or some moose, or a beaver, or a mongoose, or maybe a possum--

Stanton: OH MY GOD--

Lincoln:--or a cat, if times were desperate, but not a dog, never a dog, because this here fur trapper loved dogs; had six of ‘em himself, all hound dogs, loyal to a fault, see, because this here fur trapper--

Stanton: JUST STOP--

Lincoln: --this here fur trapper could be short-sighted. See, he set his sights one day on shooting the biggest bear in the mountains--and this bear, why, this here bear was a Goliath of a bear, the biggest bear anyone ever did see, the biggest bear in the state; not the biggest bear in the country, mind you, on account of we didn’t have a way of comparing bear sizes nationwide, but--

You get the gist.

Above: “So I’m sitting there, barbecue sauce on my tiddies--”

Eventually, Lincoln would get to the point of his story; in this example, for...um, example...maybe the moral was, “Don’t get so focused on one goal (shooting that big bear) that you loose sight of other objectives in the war (getting rid of the wolf pack killing all the sheep or whatever).”

I would like to explain to you why telling long, rambling grandpa stories was such a power move:

Abe Lincoln was the president.

So his whole Cabinet had to listen.

And Abe Lincoln knew it.

They had to listen to this backwoods guy go on and on about how that one time the local long boatsman fell into the river actually serves as a metaphor for Gen. McClellan’s inability to take control of the troops; or how the rabid raccoon that lived in the local blacksmith’s shop can serve as a metaphor for acting too hastily when trying to take down the South.

Or, like, whatever.

Above: “All here in favor of me performing the entirety of Les Mis starring me as everyone, raise your hands.”

Apparently, Lincoln was also the kind of storyteller who, if there was a funny punchline at the end, took forever to get to the punch line because he’d start laughing hysterically at his own joke, and while many people thought it was incredibly endearing, others were like, “Boy, I wonder what it would be like if I dumped this entire fucking bottle of ink over the president’s head to get him to shut the fuck up.”

Spoiler alert: Lincoln did not, in fact, shut the fuck up. He was determined to teach folks a lesson through the the power of storytelling and also to help break the tension of a legitimately horrible war with the power of laughter.

Monopolizing the conversation to prove a point with anecdotes about frontier living that no one can escape?

Power. Move.

5. Those times he let his kids run amok in the White House and thought it was hilarious.

Lincoln had a four kids, all boys, who moved into the White House after he was elected president.

And these boys were little terrors.

To be fair, a vast majority of boys are terrors. Kids are terrors. They are small harbingers of chaos and discord with little regard for their fellow humans, which means they fit right in in the White House EYYYY POLITICAL COMMENTARY.

But Lincoln’s kids, apparently, were especially out of control.

Above: “Alright, enough pussy-footin’ around, Pops, fork over the dough and no one gets a kick in the nuts.”

Lincoln adored his boys, partly because he was a good dad and partly because he’d already had one child die tragically, so understandably, he was like, “Life is short and antibiotics haven’t been invented yet so we’re all going to die from getting paper cuts, probably; I’m just gonna let my boys do whatever the hell they want.”

And he kind of...did.

Willie and Tad Lincoln, his two youngest, brought tons of pets into the White House. Dogs, cats, birds...when people objected, Lincoln just sort of shrugged. He, too, was a huge animal lover and didn’t really care if ponies were clomping around the Oval Office. “My White House, my rules, my indoor ponies.”

The two Lincoln boys would dress up in military uniforms and have fake military drills and stage fake (LOUD) battles all over the White House, including when Dad was in a Cabinet meeting.

What did Dad do, you ask?

Laugh his head off.

While his kids would burst into Cabinet meetings, crawl under the table and kick important Senators’ legs and feet, generally causing a grade-A ruckus, Abe would try and fail to stifle his laughter.

Which, you know. Objectively isn’t the best parenting, but for Pete’s sake, they were at war, can’t they have a little fun? Jesus, lighten up, folks, they’re kids.

The Lincoln boys particularly irritated Sec. of War Edwin Stanton, but to be fair, almost everything irritated Sec. of War Edwin Stanton.

Above: “I have never had fun once, ever, in my life.”

Once again, Lincoln’s rationale was, “Life is fragile, one of my children already died, the country is at war, and kids make me laugh, so if they want to punch Sec. Stanton in the balls under the table, who am I to stop them?”

Also, Lincoln was the president, so nobody thought it was appropriate to go, “Um, hey? Mr.--Mr. President? Maybe you could tell your sons to, you know...not crawl under the table and interrupt, um...important...war strategy meetings?”

ALSO, Lincoln once wrestled a man twice his size to the ground without batting an eyelash, so you go tell him to make his kids behave. I dare you.

#abraham lincoln #listory #american history #us history #u.s. history

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tessacxstello · 5 years

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hello im (F, 24) an idiot and forgot to post tessa’s (F, 22, fictional) intro!

pls bare in mind most of this was written 5+ years ago n i haven’t written tessa since 2015...... but lets get this show (LOCKWOODRP) on the road (DASHBOARD).

tw school shooting, tw bipolar disorder

art hoe. always covered in paint. why?? she bad at painting

the mark rothko jackson pollock kind of bad tho wher people are like.... omg.... revolutionary..... its a badly drawn vagina

fuckin loves astrology, but cant take it that seriously bcos one of her bfs was a gemini so there’s some lenience there. but she WILL blame her hormones and mood swings on the positon of mars

embodies pure sunshine.

one of those really annoying people that can go through the most traumatic shit and still find a positive spin.

cares so much for others but does not really care for herself n it’s meant she just bottles up all this shit n when someone asks her how her day has gone she just falls on the ground like tht bit in midsommar when florence does that loud wheezy noise and sits down

has never really had much money at all. learns to make-do with what she has. loves upcycling!! her bookshelf is made from cardboard which she’s reinforced by pappering it over with pages ripped out of thrifted books. her sofa is an old car boot which she’s repainted, put on wheels and stuffed w cushions so that it’s actually bearable to sit on.

her knitted cardigan? its made out of wife material.

knits all the time. will crochet you a christmas scarf. if ur lucky you might get a knitted jumper with a penis in a santa hat

still sleeps with cuddly toys n then wonders why ppl dont think she’s mature enough for a serious relationship

very passionate about Sister Doing It For THemselves!! raised by a single mom who worked her ass off so that tessa could do fun activities after school, have lelli kelly shoes, and go to college (not necessarily in tht order of importance)

tessa was born out of wedlock as the result of an affair between her mom (a journalism intern in her early 20s) and a new york times editor.

the editor offered to pay tessa’s mom off to have an abortion, but she was like fuck u and told the papers he’d done that and used the money to cover the cost of her internship which they refused to pay her for

and because of the scandal, he ended up going through a pretty messy divorce with his wife, and losing custody of his kids. so as a child tessa was seen as the cause of a divorce and received mutliple letters from the editors wife (to tessa personally!) and his kids saying how she had ruined everything, but her mom moved them to another town so tessa didn’t have to deal with that crap.

her mom worked 3 jobs to put her through school, so in return tessa pushes herself incredibly hard to succeed. needs a break and a hug and to get laid to be honest.

an old soul. likes old films, old music, old people. only recently got an iphone 5s so not really with this century yet

very sweet and soft and kind but also a fucking mess and won’t listen to anyone else’s opinion. she’ll take comfort, but not advice.

feminist buddhist bisexual vegetarian for human rights and animal welfare. standing on a soapbox shouting about the climate in the quad, shoving flyers into your hands. flyers everwhere. she turns up at your grandmas funeral and shoves one into her mouth. she’s stolen the mic from the vicar to talk about pandas.

says “mother of pearl” and “heavens to betsy”.

had an affair with her married piano teacher and he’s now facing a custody battle and his wife is leaving him and tessa has completely internalised that guilt despite her being the victim in the scenario

aesthetics: paint splattered jeans, loose curls spilling from a scrunchie, thrifted blouses in bright yellow, guzzling coffee in the library at three am when a term paper’s due, shoddily illustrated campaign posters to save endangered species, polaroids plastered to your bedroom walls with scribbled dates on the frames, jumping into a stack of autumn leaves, jumping off piers in the summer months and stripping off your wet clothes on the beach, digging your thumbs into peaches to leave a bruise, smoking with the extractor fan on to hide the smell, bath bombs, letting the girls at lush rub samples all over your skin, cacti with knitted bobble hats, decorative pillows and sun and moon blanket throws, basic bitch fairy lights hanging from every single window, painting the name of the boys you’ve loved inside your wardrobe door.

studies fine art and philosophy, and wants to become either a lecturer or the first woman president. vibe wise, very similar to leslie knope, missy from big mouth, and basically the naive everygirl with a high opinion of themselves trope

gets drunk off like one double vodka lemonade because she’s small and she’s a pretty messy wild drunk. it’s when slutty tessa comes out, and the next day she’ll thoroughly regret every choice made and decide she’s never drinking again and cutting out all men and starting daily sudoko

on the cheerleading team and is a flyer, which she sees as a HUGE responsibility and she works really hard to make sure she’s on it for her team. one of those get up at 7am and go to the gym before school types its sickening

she had a really traumatic time at high school because there was a shooting in her school. she was in the next classroom when it happened, and she lost one of her friends in the shooting. she had to take two months off school, was diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants because of it. in her 2nd year of uni she was rediagnosed with bipolar disorder and anxiety, which she’s now on medication for. she can be really good for several months at a time and feel super creative and determined (she actually finds manic periods helpful for her creativity n art, n sadly sometimes doesn’t take her meds in these periods to push herself more which is obvs super bad.....). but when the bad periods come they can also last months n she had to take a semester out of school last year because of her mood, so she should be a senior by now but she’s retaking junior year

she attends weekly stress-management sessions prescribed by her doctor which she finds pointless.

very childish in the sense that she can only see her own point of view and kind of views herself as the “protagonist” and thinks her ideas are super important and life changing and she IS Destined for Greatness! despite being pretty much average af

pinterest board.

STATS

age: 22

height: 5'2"

positive traits: kind-hearted, gregarious, selfless, philosophical, open minded, idealistic, courageous, feisty, charismatic, loyal, adventurous.

negative traits: stubborn, hot-headed, reticent, escapist, self-destructive, easily led, naive, troubled, complicated, stepford smiler, envious, overdramatic, explosive.

distinguishing Marks: heart-shaped birthmark on the right of her chest, splattering of freckles across the cheeks during summer months, full lips, large eyes, porcelain features, long wavy hair, tattoo of a bird and a cage on her ankles and a basic bitch arrow tat on her wrist (srry to anyone with an arrow tat).

skills: jack-of-all-trades, talented pianist, perceptive, knows the correct way to throw a punch, good survival instinct, is able to remain calm in stressful situations, endures, artistic, excels in academic studies, hard-working and self-motivated, expert liar and talented actress.

likes: wolves, vintage thrift store fashion, old leather-bound books, left-wing democratic politics, cigarettes, poetry, John Hughes movies, cold coffee, hot tea, the sound of laughter, staying up til 4am having deep conversations, Tchaikovsky, having deep conversations about life, stationary, DC Comics, horoscopes, winged eyeliner, cats, knee-high socks, house music, abandoned buildings, studio ghibli, the smell of the earth after rain, Wes Anderson films, herbal tea, old people, solitude, esoteric things, the smell of freshly baked bread, Charles Bukowski, the moon.

fears: death, oblivion, global warming, losing those she loves, isolation, clowns, guns, enclosed spaces.

nicknames: Tess, T-Dog, Tessie, Socrates, Princess, Sunshine Girl, Florence Nightingale.

alignment: Neutral Good

MBTI type: INFP

BIOGRAPHY

tw school shooting

Her story begins with Cordelia Costello, a twenty-three year old college drop-out, turned beautician, turned columnist, turned intern at a local publishing company. She was a youthful, beautiful, siren of a women, always surrounded by an aura of enigma and an entourage of men. It was no surprise to the gossips in the office that within six months working at the company, Cordelia had added to her list another title – mistress to Franklin Hozier, the Editor of the New York Times. After two blissful months and three hundred and twenty seven orgasms, Cordelia decided she wanted a baby. Franklin laughed in her face. Feeling isolated and used, Cordelia continued her affair with her boss’ boss for another month, before deciding to take matters into her own hands.

It started with a turkey baster.

Soon the infant cries of a baby girl graced the world, her wrinkled skin puckered and pink as her mother held her in her arms, glancing upon the most beautiful thing in her life. Once Tessa, named after Cordelia’s favourite literary heroine, entered the world, Franklin left her life and things took a turn for the better. Despite living in a rented one-bedroom apartment in Staten Island, on what little money Cordelia had saved, Tessa’s childhood years were filled with nothing but the happiest of memories. Times were tough, but what they lacked in money, the Costello’s made up in love. While Tessa was at school, Cordelia did odd jobs cleaning, child-minding, working in local nurseries, in order to save up enough money to give her daughter the best start in life.

Despite what she had been led to believe by television shows and teen movies, the first few years of High School were some of the best years of her life. Tessa threw herself into a multitude of activities that High School offered her, including the drama club, the orchestra, choir, badminton and the school newspaper. While she certainly wasn’t considered ‘popular’ at school, Tess had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. In fact, High School was a place where she made some of the greatest memories of her life, but come her final year, it was also a place where she was haunted by some of her worst.

On the January 17th of Tessa’s senior year of high school, a shooting took place in Westville High School. For two hours Tessa locked herself in a supply cupboard, her head between her knees as she tried to stay silent despite the screams of horror from the corridor. Eighteen students were caught in the crossfire, two of which were Tessa’s best friends. Bouquets of flowers, laminated photographs, Teddy Bears in cling-film bags attached to balloons littered the streets as families and friends came to pay tribute to the eighteen students withered before they had a chance to bloom.

It took two months of therapy before Tessa could return to school. Some of the survivors could never return due to the horrors that their eyes had laid witness to. Sometimes Tessa felt like a part of her had died with the friends that were stolen from her too soon, but one thought kept her going through: she had survived, she was alive and breathing, and she could not afford to loose a second of the precious time she had been granted on this earth. Despite the nightmares that continued to haunt her each night, Tessa found in the aftermath of the disaster a new sense of motivation. She began applying for scholarships for colleges without her mother’s knowledge, in the hope that her academic success would be enough to carry her through further education. Thankfully, it was, and after three torturous months of waiting Tess was offered an arts scholarship to her dream school, Lockwood University, where she hoped she could finally start to rebuild her life.

THE PRESENT:

Life at university was like a separate world. Students came and went like moths among the whisperings and the tequila and the stars. In this new world, Tessa was exposed for the first time in her life to alcohol, drugs, and the sexual appetites of other students her age – though she politely declined all three. Instead, Tessa threw herself into the vast array of activities in the hope that by distracting herself she could escape the terrible flashbacks that continued to haunt her. Tessa joined the lacrosse team, despite never having played before, and took up cheerleading discovering a new talent; she joined the musical theatre group, and the film club, and even set up her own acapella singing society. But despite how much she tried to throw herself into student life, her past hung around her like a bad smell, and with the added pressure of the Sinking Ships zine, Tess began to feel the weight of her secret tying her down like a pair of shackles around her wrists.

PERSONALITY:

If someone was to describe Tessa in a single word, it would most likely be ‘bubbly’, ‘open-minded’ or ‘sweet’. But they would be wrong – Tessa is not bubbly, or sweet, or stubborn, or hotheaded, or fiesty, or infectious, or any of the things the world see her as, but merely a numb and lonely echo of the gregarious, halcyon girl she once was. Tessa Costello was one of life’s enigmas. No one knew who she was, for to each person she met she wore a different mask – she dripped confidence, or was painfully shy; she was an exhibitionist, or a brooding wallflower; she took things too seriously, or not seriously at all. She was an actress and the world was her stage, each person she met a different member of the audience in the performance of her life. In truth, Tessa no longer even recognised herself. Insecure, and self-destructive, she tried to hang on to the extroverted, mischievous pieces of herself that everyone had once loved, but day by day it got harder to know what lay in the vacant holes blown through her mind. While she was stubborn and hot-headed, Tessa always saw the best in people, which meant that she was easily led astray. While she had grown up learning to be street smart and astute, she was idealistic and allowed silly fantasies to cloud her mind. By nature, she was passionate, which lead her to misimagine and romanticise those she met. Despite the hell she had witnessed, and the anxiety that feasted upon her, she believed that people were innately good and that to have courage and be kind could cure anyone of their sadness – yet she was unable to cure herself.

TWITTER:

@500daysoftessa: i blame disney films and musicals for my high expectations of men

@500daysoftessa: i am in love with the boy who works at starbucks. today i asked for a double latte and he gave me a tripple, which i think is proof that my love is requited. our children will be smart and talented and beautiful.

@500daysoftessa: little known historical fact: pharaohs were burried with their hands crossed over their chests because it was a popular belief there would be countless water slides in the after life.

#huntingtonintro #pounce on me for plots #tw school shooting #tw bipolar disorder #tw depression

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popolitiko · 5 years

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Hasan Minhaj Called Out Jared Kushner to His Face for His Relationship With MBS at the TIME 100 Gala

By Jamie Ducharme and Alana Abramson April 24, 2019

Comedian Hasan Minhaj used his speech at the TIME 100 Gala Tuesday to urge White House Senior Adviser Jared Kushner to leverage his relationship with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad Bin Salman and win the release of Saudi activist Loujain al-Hathloul.

Al-Hathloul, a 2019 TIME 100 honoree, is currently in prison after advocating for women’s rights in the kingdom.

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Seizing on reports from House Democrats that President Donald Trump’s son-in-law – who was also in attendance at the TIME 100 Gala – had exchanged messages on WhatApp with Bin Salman, Minhaj suggested Kushner could help al-Hathloul.

“I know there’s a lot of very powerful people here, and it would be crazy if there was a high ranking official in the White House that could WhatsApp MBS and say, ‘Hey maybe you could help that person get out of prison because they don’t deserve it,'” Minhaj said. “But hey, that person would have to be in the room. It’s just a good comedy premise.”

Minhaj told TIME after the toast that he was sincere in this request, although he could not see Kushner’s reaction. “I was just hoping he could send a WhatsApp message,” he said. “[It could say] hey, this person has been fighting for civil liberties for all people. Maybe you should let them out of prison.”

The comedian, who was the host of the White House Correspondents Dinner in 2017 and won rave reviews for his stand-up special Homecoming King the same year, is now perhaps best known for his weekly Netflix series Patriot Act with Hasan Minhaj, which returns for a third season in May.

In the series, the former Daily Show correspondent brings a comedic but critical eye to topics shaping the modern world, from civil rights to drug pricing. One episode, in which Minhaj criticized Saudi Arabia and bin Salman, was famously pulled from Netflix in Saudi Arabia — which Minhaj said would only make more people watch it.

“Patriot Act is the manifestation of Hasan’s whip-smart commentary, charisma and sincerity,” Daily Show host Trevor Noah wrote of his old colleague for this year’s TIME 100 list. “It’s also a consistent reminder that Hasan is America. And America is Hasan.”

Read the full text of Minhaj’s toast here.

This is the mark over here? The mark’s over here. There we go. Oh, God. Thank you so — oh, man, I was freaking out. I had to follow — I thought I had to follow your DJ. Whoo, all right. I’m supposed to go to this camera — there we are, all right. I got to follow — I got to follow my wife.

Thank you guys so much. This is a huge honor to give a toast. All of late night’s here — what’s up, Oliver? What’s happening?

I’m really — I feel really privileged to be here. It’s unbelievable. The fact that I made the list, the sixth most popular correspondent on The Daily Show is truly — for those of you guys who don’t know, I was a correspondent on The Daily Show on Comedy Central. I know some of you guys are like, what is Comedy Central? It’s basically an internship for Netflix.

But — but, yeah, I have a Netflix show, just plugging it, just a little quick little humble brag. Yeah, I have a Netflix show. I know why I’m here. We did an episode from Saudi Arabia, if anyone from the kingdom is here, hey, I’m sorry. But yeah, yeah, yeah, after the murder of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi, I came in, I had a super hot take, I was like “Murder’s bad,” and then the kingdom didn’t like it, they pulled the episode, they banned me from The Mecca, not Madison Square Garden, there’s a place called The Mecca, it’s Muslim, you know what it is. So I can’t do that anymore.

And yeah, I want to toast tonight because people have sometimes come up to me and given me a lot of credit that I don’t deserve.They’re just like, “Man, what you did, that was the bravest thing ever. As long as you don’t die, this is the best thing that could have ever happened to your career.” And I’m like,”Man, I — I don’t want to be the Tupac of comedy. I want to live to see these retweets.

But I’m very lucky, I’m very lucky that I get to be here in America and I can make jokes about very powerful leaders, and I have the safety of being here in America. We have a lot of incredible rights here in America and safeties that we take for granted oftentimes. And there are people on the front lines that cannot be here, like Loujain Al-Hathloul, who is a Saudi activist who helped fight to lift the women’s driving ban, and she is currently in prison. She cannot be with us here tonight. She has been tortured. And a lot of times as comedians we get a lot of credit. People come up to us and they go, “Thank you so much for pointing a light on that issue,” but that’s all we’re doing, we’re pointing. And I just want to say thank you to Loujain for being the light.

This is a very — this is a very powerful room, and you know, I know there’s a lot of very powerful people here. It would be crazy if — I don’t know, if there was just like a — I don’t know, like, if there was a high-ranking official in the White House that could WhatsApp MBS and say, “Hey, maybe you could help that person get out of prison because they don’t deserve it,” but that would be crazy. That would be — that person would have to be in the room, but that’s just a good comedy premise.

Thank you guys so much. Good night.

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Comedian Calls Out Jared Kushner To His Face In Front Of Crowded Room,

Kushner’s Response Makes Him Look Guilty

Donald Trump’s son-in-law Jared Kushner was effectively called out earlier this week by comedian Hasan Minhaj while he was giving a speech at the TIME 100 Gala - Minhaj used the opportunity to point out Kushner’s relationship with Saudi Arabian Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and implore the senior advisor to actually use it for some good for once.

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http://time.com/5574438/hasan-minhaj-time-100-toast/

#Hasan Minhaj #TIME 100 Gala

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fantastic-nonsense · 5 years

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Final Opinions on the 1st Democratic Debate

On a political level, the big winners of the first round were:

Warren: she started out strong and was consistent with her 'I've got a plan for that' but was quiet towards the end. She did what she came out to do: come out, discuss her ideas and policy positions, and stay above the fray. The first night’s debate was Professor Warren and her grad students, and that's exactly what she needed to float her to the next round.

Castro: his debate prep team is not being paid nearly enough for how good they made him look. He came prepared and it shows. Whether he will continue to impress is a different question, but he definitely stole some limelight for himself.

Booker: he came out swinging and just went for it, and it absolutely worked to his advantage.

Harris: she consistently killed it all night, stayed on theme, and had at least three soundbite zingers. She's pretty much guaranteed a spot in the Final Four at this point.

Buttigieg: he showed up poised, calm, collected, and thoughtful, had solid policy ideas and solutions, and had what was probably the single most honest and direct answer I have heard over the entirety of the debates so far. He's going to get a lot of mileage out of that persona (and also his statement concerning religion and politics). I personally think he’s running about 5-10 years too early for the campaign he wants to run, but we’ll see where he goes from here.

Biden is definitely hanging in there, but Harris drove a real spike into his wheel. One more one-shot KO like that and he’s going to have some serious problems. Defending states' rights to segregate schools to a black woman on national television, especially in 2019, is not a good look.

Sanders is also hanging in there, though he just like...inexplicably tanked his chances of gaining any new voters by doing so poorly on the debate stage. Unless he shapes up quick, he's also gone. He's not the only progressive on the stage anymore, and it shows.

On the second stringers:

Gillibrand and Klobuchar are doing okay but could be doing much better. I think they'll be better off once the field narrows and don't feel like they have to jockey as much for the time to speak.

De Blasio was a surprisingly competent and strong voice on the stage, though I'm not sure how much of that was genuine and how much of it was "standard New York politician bullshitting his way to the top for 2 hours."

Hickenlooper sounds more like a Reasonable Republican than a 2019-era Democrat; that might help or hurt him depending on what he does with that image. He had his zinger with the "where I'm from that's called kidnapping" line, and it'll boost him if that gets any traction; he needs some substantive policy solutions and a couple more zingers if he wants to make it.

Gabbard was granted a grace period for that absolute slam dunk over Tim Ryan on the Taliban/Al Qaeda issue (because your five seconds of internet meme fame is still fame and is thus helpful for ratings), but she's going to have to talk about something other than her status as a veteran if she wants to break out from the bottom-middle of the pack.

Everyone else:

Can I tell the "Delaney, Ryan, and Swalwell drop the fuck out challenge" joke already? Because they need to get with the program and drop out before they start damaging everyone else.

Yang is a one-trick pony with the UBI/automation stuff and was absolutely not prepared for prime time. He completely bumbled and got bogged down in technical terminology during his (very few) minutes of mic time, to his detriment. He's out of his element (which is long-format one-on-one interviews) and it shows.

Inslee had some good ideas and some good moments, but he largely just didn't have any "shine time," and with a candidate field this large that's basically a kill shot in and of itself. He needed a media moment, and instead he's largely forgettable.

I literally can’t understand anything Bennet said besides “socialism is bad.” I’m going to actually have to go hunt down the transcript for this debate because he was rambly and incoherent.

Beto looked positively gray; I think he’s realizing that he is a high school-level debater trying to be on the same stage as post-grads. Being a House Rep for three terms and failing to win a Senate race is bad preparation for the presidential debate stage, but this whole endeavor might give him enough of a media boost to go after Cornyn in the Texas Senate race next year (if he drops out early enough).

Special shoutout to Marianne Williamson for being such an absolute nutcase (and thus an absolutely delightful mess) to watch.

Right now, I think my Top 5 candidates are Warren, Harris, Buttigieg, Booker, and Castro. Warren was my early favorite, and no one has really done anything to persuade me off of her yet. I think at the present moment I'm gunning for a Warren/Buttigieg ticket with Harris as AG, Gabbard as SecDefense or head of the Dept. of Veterans Affairs, and Booker and Castro taking domestically-focused cabinet positions (maybe Labor and HHS?). It's very early days though, and so many things can change between now and the day I go to the polls.

One good thing I will say is that it's incredible how many good candidates there are. I have my favorites, but apart from the scrappers at the bottom of the pack (and imo Biden, but that's a personal opinion) there aren't any truly bad candidates to be had this go around. It honestly feels like all of the serious candidates are really just auditioning for their place in the 2020 cabinet and one lucky winner will get to be president instead of a cabinet member, which is such an incredibly freeing breath of fresh air from the nonsense of the past 3-4 years.

#politics #us politics #2020 election #democratic debate #long post #personal

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herselfportrait · 6 years

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SPOTLIGHT: ALAN RAW

(Written for Soundsphere Magazine)

The question isn’t ‘what has Alan Raw done?’ – you’d do better to wonder what he hasn’t. With an illustrious career in the creative industries, spanning from hosting BBC Introducing for Humberside & West Yorkshire, to being CEO of The Creative and Cultural Company, not to mention a life-long passion for drumming in which he is a professional, Alan Raw has done it all and more. To describe him simply as successful is true, but isn’t enough; far deeper than his accomplishments, it’s Alan Raw’s approach to his work, the philosophies he adopts, that makes this man not only a pleasure to talk to, but a pleasure to read about.

“I do lots of jobs which are loosely around art.” Raw tells us, “That could be visual art, it could be music, or performance. It’s very much around arts and business - especially the social part of business. I’m CEO of The Creative and Cultural Company which is a social enterprise, and that’s been going on in one form or another for 25 years now. It has never had any funding: it’s a not-for-profit organisation run by a board of directors who are all volunteers; we do have sponsors – not cash sponsors – but sponsors who help in other ways. I suppose over the years I’ve become quite good at helping other people start social enterprises and helping new entrepreneurs who want to work in a more social and democratic sort of way. I also coach quite a lot, performers, artists, other CEOs - anyone who could do with a little bit of help. I present BBC Introducing in Humberside and West Yorkshire: the physical DJing of it, the presenting and explaining as much as I can about an artist as I can so other people can engage with them. I listen to tunes along with my team to try and give people who may have never released anything, who may have only recorded things in their bedroom - but have incredible talent - and give them the chance to go from where they were to getting played on maybe Radio 1, 1 Extra, 6 Music or something like that – and hopefully a live session.”

Bearing that in mind, it should come as no surprise that Alan Raw has not had a holiday in over 16 years. A fact like that should evoke gasps from the audience, so what is it about his job that he just can’t keep away from? How do you work every day for 16 years and stay motivated to carry on? “I like the environment in which I work, and I want to make that more normal. I want people to work with each other; help each other; empower each other, rather than the usual metaphors which relate to business that are about ‘battles’. I don’t want that to be the metaphor for my environment that I work in. I just enjoy the process of seeing someone do well. I actually enjoy meeting someone who has a need which I think I can help with. I don’t want them to be in need, but if they turn up with one I can help with then it’s like “Oh, great!”, and I’ll help with that. I always feel the need to be supporting a new team. With bands especially, I like to cheer someone on and I get great delight from seeing them succeed – even better if they know they have, and it makes them happy. I’m a Buddhist, and it’s kind of common in my circles to be happy by helping other people, so it fits with my spirituality. I’ve got some skills: I want to use them, not lose them. I curate a lot, I curate a lot of exhibitions and I teach other people how to do that as well. It keeps me thinking.”

With a finely-honed ear for music, as well as a talent for drumming that has led him to be profiled by none other than John Peel on Channel 4, Radio 1 airplay and tours all over the world, what would Alan Raw advise musicians on what they need to do to stand out in their circles? “I was lucky enough to have been born into a musical family. My dad made it very clear to me that I couldn’t just be the drummer in his band. I had to spend the other 23 hours of the day making the most of the environment I was in. We were constantly travelling, constantly playing music at different festivals and things like that. Most of the time I was just waiting to do the same myself. My dad introduced me to sound engineers, light engineers, roadies, filmmakers, managers, photographers – everything - and said, “Can I leave my lad with you for half an hour, because he’s interested in what you’re doing.” A lot of that kind of thing happened. I was encouraged to do more of that and that’s what I’ve always done. If you can learn even a little bit about what everyone else is doing in your industry, then it stands you in much better stead in two ways: one is that you are able to ask other professionals for what it is that you need from them in a much more coherent way, you have a much better understanding of what that means, the weight of what it is that you’re asking them to do, and what it should cost as well. The other thing is you’re able to do a lot of things yourself on a budget. You’d recognise that you might want to get something remastered by a professional in the future, but you can certainly record things yourself. It means that you can be much more financially sustainable in your early days of being a musician.”

In the creative industries, the unwritten rule is that if you want work, you have to go to London. Though this is a widely held preconception, just how true has Alan Raw found that to be, in his experience? “In Hull we have no problems with internet signal. It doesn’t really matter where you are, as long as you’ve got the internet, you’ve got a phone, and you’re able to make enough money from something to keep those things. It depends on your connections and how well you manage them. You’ve got to be organised. It doesn’t really matter how many resources you have, it’s more about how you organise yourself. You can know ten million people and not benefit from any of those relationships. It’s about turning up on time to things, making arrangements to meet people for a cup of tea or a cup of coffee, having conversations and seeing where you can go with that. None of that is going to have an effect on helping you unless you have an idea about what it is you want to have happen. It’s about doing what is sometimes called ‘future pacing’, which is thinking, When everything’s what I want it to be, and I wake up that morning and it’s my perfect day doing what I do, what do I see, what do I feel, what do I hear and what had to be true for that to be possible? and then just work backwards. Then hopefully, everyone you meet and every resource you come across, you won’t just filter out, but you’ll notice it and think, That’s one of the things I need. People can very easily be tricked into thinking that they need to look for what they need all the time, when you really ought to be thinking about what you can give rather than what you can get. It is a trading situation. You are trading with people. It’s just the simplest things that people do all the time, like band exchanges – they would never exist unless one of them thought, I can actually help the other one out. If you’re constantly thinking, What can I get out of this? What does the world owe me? What can I take from these situations? - then it’s not going to be a trade-off. What you need to be thinking is, Okay, what can I do for someone else, and does that have a value? If it does, what can I weight that against, and can we swap? You’ll get a very real feeling for what something is worth in time.”

Broadcasting is almost as covetable as work in music. Undoubtedly, many people regard Alan Raw’s job as host of BBC Introducing for Humberside & West Yorkshire with envy. “I got the radio show completely by accident. I was organising a festival. At the time I was the music worker at The Warren, and when I arrived there in ’99, I brought with me a festival called Impro Festival which I started in ’97 in the youth service when I was an arts officer there. I said to Keith at The Warren – who isn’t there anymore, but he’s a legend – “I’d like to involve The Warren in doing this.” One thing led to another, I ended up working as a youth worker at The Warren and bringing the festival with me. At the time, the BBC were looking to work with a festival, so we ended up working together. I was putting on lots of acts: some big names as well as local acts, trying to bring them forward by putting them alongside other people. I was introducing bands onto the stage because I didn’t know anyone else who did that, and I was DJing a bit, putting tunes on in between, and the BBC said, “This would sound quite good on the radio”, and at the time it fitted in with things that they were doing. It was all accidental. I did point out to the BBC three or four other people who I’m convinced would do a better job than I could. I’m a drummer, and they were singers. I said, “You want somebody who’s good at talking to people. You need these guys, not me.” But they insisted it was myself that did it. It was supposed to be six-week project – and I’m still there. Every show could be the last!”

Due to the competitive nature of the creative industries, with hordes of people vying for a single position, what qualities set you apart from the rest? “I’m always impressed the most by people who are proactive. People who notice what needs to happen without it needing to be pointed out to them because they just have their own opinion of it and think, Okay, what, to me, is a good job? If it’s done well, it’s like this. Then they notice how that fits against what’s there. If they think, Well, that could be better, then they have a think about how and if they could help with that. Then they speak with you and say, “I think this could be better. It’s great, but it could be even better if it was like this, and I can help with that.” Either that, or they don’t say anything, because they see something that needs doing and they just do it. Apart from that, be reliable. Put the hours in, be there early. Just go the extra mile and do a bit more. You’ve got to be creative; to get to think creatively, you’ve got to get to know yourself, your skills, the people around you and their skills. It sounds really simple, but it’s really hard to do. You’ve got to train yourself to think better. The world actually doesn’t owe you anything. You’ve got your basic human rights, and one of those isn’t ‘must have a great job’.

For most of us, it’s irrefutable that Alan Raw is successful – just look at what he’s achieved. But success isn’t necessarily quantified by the boxes you’ve ticked: “When I know that I’m giving more than I’m taking, then I think that’s a good measure of whether or not I’m successful. Sometimes to get to be successful in something, you’ve got to take. You’ve got to earn the money, you’ve got to use resources and ask for favours and pull all of that together and work hard. But when you get to the position where you can actually be giving, rather than taking, and you’re doing stuff for the people around you, I think that’s maybe a reasonable measure of you doing well.”

As a veteran of the creative scene, particularly in Hull, without a doubt Raw will have more than a fair few moments of glory, be those for himself, or those he’s mentored. What are the highlights of his career thus far? “Well, I’d like to think that I haven’t finished yet. I’ve got close to being successful. One measure of success for me is making myself redundant. In the Creative and Cultural Company, for example, if I’ve made myself redundant, that means I’ve created a sustainable and continuous thing. If I drop dead today – I will one day - everything will carry on, it will be successful for everyone who’s in it and there will be no detrimental effect to the organisation. That would be empowering. But it goes much deeper than that. It’s the same for my son; I’d like to think that I’m a good enough dad to get him to a point where he doesn’t need me anymore. The same for my partner. I’d like to think it about my job, the radio, too. Can you imagine if I managed to play some small part in getting the local music scene to get to a point where it doesn’t need us anymore? Imagine a point where all the artists are much so involved in running it themselves, managing it all themselves, own the infrastructure, manage all the organisations that are required, and keep it democratic. Wouldn’t that be amazing? That’s proper success. It’s all about making yourself redundant.”

What can the future possibly hold for Alan Raw? Though he shows no signs of stopping, he is planning on slowing down: “I want to get to more gigs. I’m playing less gigs now, as a drummer, so surely that means that I get to go to more gigs? But, other things fill the vacuum, don’t they? I’ve got lots of exhibitions going on as a curator, all kinds of things, workshops, masterclasses - all that type of thing. Also, my radio shows are on a Saturday night, which is when there are a lot of gigs I’d like to be at. Apart from that, I’d really like to work towards a time when I can reflect on everything, turn up to some of the events that I’ve been involved in in the past, cheer people on, enjoy watching artists, go to exhibitions that I have nothing to do with, read books by people much more intelligent than myself, and maybe get to the point where I can step away from Creative and Cultural Company, knowing that it is totally sustainable and doing well. Then actually I might be able to do some art again – I am actually an artist, I just don’t get a lot of time these days.”

When he does take a step away from work, what does Alan Raw do to unwind? “I’m part of a number of groups and organisations which area about thinking, about creative thinking, coaching, that kind of stuff. They’re some really nice people who I meet with, spend time with and just think about stuff with. One of my favourite things we do is debate. There just isn’t enough debate going on in the world. There’s plenty of arguing, but there doesn’t seem to be many decisions being made with democratic debate. It seems more to do with social media and reinforcing views that you’ve already got. I try and spend as much time as I can in groups, informal and formal, doing that sort of thing, trying to make ourselves better. A lot of that comes from my days at The Warren, a place that is run democratically by young people, so, I know that sounds like work to some people but it’s actually what I love and end up doing a lot outside of work.”

Alan Raw has always been deeply interwoven into Hull’s creative industry. Since being bestowed the title of City of Culture in 2017, Hull has thrived, finally able to support its burgeoning talent, elevating it being a national – if not international – point of interest. “I am one of many people in this area who has worked really, really hard: people like Stewart Baxter, Mez Green, Pat Pretorius from The Talks, Nigel Holmes, to make, collectively, everything better. I think we’ve come a very, very long way to creating an infrastructure where musicians can run themselves. We’re not far off it now. 53 Degrees North was a good indicator of that – that was a quality event, run by people in the music industry from this area. It’s a very exciting time. I’ve just been very careful not to get over-excited too early, but it is a very exciting time being at that point where it might just all be running itself really well - but there’s a lot of work left to do to get to that point. Even if we get there, we need to make sure it stays. There are so many people around me who are doing so much more than me, and much better work than me, to make that happen. I just want to support them and keep cheering them on. Katy Noone, producer of BBC Introducing, works so hard. She and John Anguish, an amazing engineer, taught me everything I know about radio. I think we’re really close to that goal, of being run by the people and being democratic. We’ve also gone through a time recently - we’re kind of still in it, politically - where corporate culture overrides community. I believe with all my heart in community. I know that there are better models of making things work. It is about cultural democracy. It’s where my motivation lies and what I want to work towards.”

#spotlight #culture #hull #yorkshire #music

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toblkflys · 3 years

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A Little Brain Scrub

I have a family member that believes there is no pandemic. How is that? I guess there is a whole movement that believes this. So, people are dying how? In 7 months 2 million people have died worldwide. In the same time period, there have been 10 million people in the US that tested COVID positive. What do we call this? Of course, many people are using the TV/movie/book version like The Hot Zone, as a point of reference, “now that is what a pandemic looks like,” they say. They think if it were a real pandemic people would be “dropping like flys.” If it truly got to that point we would really be screwed worldwide. That would be worse than a pandemic, it would be an extinction event. The definition of a pandemic is “(of a disease) prevalent over a whole country or the world.” That is all it means. What about this is a pandemic is incorrect? People are getting the sickness/disease here, people are getting the same sickness/disease across the country and people are getting the sickness/disease in other countries. That fits the definition. I find nowhere in the definition, no matter which dictionary I look in, does it say “people must drop like flys.” Obviously, this group of people knows something even the scholars don’t. Speaking of, this group of people is quite a bit bigger than one would have guessed. That is disappointing. We have that many people in the country who prefer not to think for themselves. That is truly frightening. Of course, I am referring to my friends the Trumpsters. And I was amazed or maybe I was horrified, I’m not sure which, the day after the election. I live in a nice retirement community with over 55 adults and most are quite a bit over 55. I drove down my street and several of the houses were flying their flag, nice, right? Not. They were flying them half-mast! Are you fucking kidding me? Just because Trump lost? Now that is a slap in the face to democracy and patriotism. These people think they are patriots, who tout the flag and talk about their rights and pro-America. These same people are basically shitting on the flag. They might as well burn it. Flying the flag at half-mast is not to be taken lightly. Only the president can order the flag to be flown at half-mast (and guess what Trumpsters, Trump lost and he is NOT your president). “Those individuals and agencies that usurp authority and display the flag at half-staff on inappropriate occasions are quickly eroding the honor and reverence accorded this solemn act,” says the American Legion and I fully agree! I mean Wells Fargo is doing this as well! WTF? What about flying the flag at half-mast is patriotic? Are they going to do it all four years? I get so angry every time I pass the neighbor’s house because I see it. It is an affront every time. I even printed out 20 flyers with the American Legion saying above on it. I wanted, and still want, to throw them all over their fence into their backyard. I wanted to tape the flyers to the windshields of their vehicles. I want to strike back or strike out. Speaking of, have you ever noticed what vehicles Trumpsters drive? Trucks, SUVs, muscle cars and American-made sedans. It is horrible to stereotype says you, and you are right. But it is true. What vehicles are parked at rallies? What vehicles do you see all decked out with American flags, the bigger the better? Trucks, the higher the better, big tires, lots of modification, maybe they rock climb with their truck or they pull their toy hauler with their Polaris, going out to the dunes to drink beer and drive their UTVs around. Maybe they will take their guns so they can target practice because drinking beer, driving UTVs, and shooting guns all go together, especially the beer. Just sayin. I have another relative who, unfortunately, married a Trumpster (actually I have two, eye roll). They have a little boy. Dad is in the military and mom, my relative, used to be normal but now follows her husband. The little boy is obsessed with war movies and they encourage it. They bought him military gear, a helmet, a tactical vest, an ammo belt and of course a replica M4. They sent a picture of him all geared up, holding the machine gun at the ready with a scowl on his face. They think it’s cute. What about dressing your child up like a killer is cute? But god help them, they need their guns, especially their fully automatic M16s because they hunt deer with them. Yeah. Are the deer shooting back or something? Are they that afraid of the deer that they need a fully automatic weapon? Or maybe it is the scary sounds in the wild while they are hunting. And these people teach their kids how to hold a gun and how to shoot as soon as they can. I remember my brother being taught and I was jealous I wasn’t because I was a girl. And this is patriotic. Dressing my 8-year-old like a sniper is patriotic. He will likely grow up hating Democrats and he will not really know why. He will join a survivalist group, hate queers and liberals, and believe that men are superior to women. He will shoot guns, practice being a sniper, learn hand-to-hand combat, all to be a patriot. Because that is the American way. War not peace. Force not negotiation. Show strength not compromise. Shoot first, not ask questions. That is patriotic. Trumpsters have no idea where they were/are headed. Welcome to Jonestown, line up for your kool-aid, never mind the people in pain and dying. An incredible phenomenon. Trumpsters don’t see what is so very obvious to the rest of us. They are so sure that the sky is green because Trump said so. We look up and nope, still blue. But don’t infringe on the Trumpsters' rights to call the sky green! It is so interesting to me because I have always been fascinated with Nazi Germany and what happened there. I have wondered what it was about Hitler that people followed with no question. I mean how can people do that? How can they not see what was happening? How could they let it happen? And now I know. I still don’t understand it but I have had the opportunity to witness how a leader mesmerizes a huge section of a country to believe anything he says no matter how irrational. How the leader can literally say and do anything and get away with it. And they follow blindly. They listen to his propaganda. Definition,“information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view.” See, Hitler did this with the Jews. He villainized the Jews. It could have been anyone but he chose the Jews, lucky them. They became the enemy that everything wrong could be blamed on. There’s a shortage? It’s the Jews, they take the bread out of your child’s mouth. And then he offers a solution. Only I can solve your Jew problem. Trump did the same thing with immigrants at first and eventually with Democrats. Now the Democrats are the downfall of the country. They are evil, horrible, liberal people. They hate god, they hate family, they hate America and want to destroy it and make America a socialist country. This is all Trump propaganda. And people listen. And they believe. Despite no proof, they don’t ask for proof. They don’t ask for examples or evidence that it is true. Like Democrats are evil and horrible. Okay. What Democrats do you, Mr. Trumpster, know who fit this bill? If they are evil and horrible they must be doing evil and horrible things, what things are they? Ask a Trumpster. Then, once the people are properly brainwashed, he proceeds to cut the country off, starts to close our borders. Hitler closed Germany’s borders, it’s called isolation. Kind of like North Korea, ever heard of it? North Korea is a good modern example of a country that has closed its borders. Not only would we keep the immigrants out, but Trump would also have kept Americans in. I believe that leaving the country would be defecting and would not be looked upon kindly in Trump’s America. Once he had all of that buttoned up and our country was “self-sufficient” he would start introducing his own police force to keep the peace. He was already headed that way. They would be deployed slowly in more and more places, eventually, there would be no local police, it would be federal and more specifically, Trump’s force. Say hello to the neo SS. And people, through all of this the Trumpsters are clapping and holding up the American flag, which would eventually be modified to include something Trump. Their rights would be secure! They finally had a voice in Trump and he is getting things done! It’s about time that we had a real police force that came in and made everything safe and secure! It’s okay that they are everywhere with their M4s and you have to show your passport when asked. Better be safe than sorry! Since concentration camps have worked before there is no point messing with success. Put the immigrants/minorities in several which would have been built. And any outspoken Dems. In fact, herd all of the Dems up and put them in certain cities or certain parts of the city. We need to protect our white American children from the undesirables. White supremacy would reign once again. Yes, Trump would have saved this country (from democracy). The funny thing is that Trump didn’t even hide that he was a fascist or that he was promoting fascism. Dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation and forcible suppression of opposition. Boom. There you go. So, let them fly our flag at half-mast in protest. Biden and the Dems took away the Trumpsters rights to have a fascist America. They never even got to chant Hail Trump! Or maybe they did and I don’t know about it. They have the right to disgrace the American flag. They have a right to spread a deadly disease. They have the right to purchase and use a fully automatic weapon. They have a right to vote for a dictator. They have the right to a fascist America. And I guess a serial killer has a right to kill. The rapist a right to rape. Because it’s about me, not you. And I have the right to do what I want to do because I’m free white and American. Isn’t it beautiful? Read the full article

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ericvick · 4 years

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The Crypto Daily – Movers and Shakers – January 17th, 2021

InvestorPlace

10 Smart Stocks to Buy With $5,000

If you’re looking to build a portfolio of stocks to buy with just $5,000, the advent of fractional share ownership has made it a whole lot easier. Google the words “fractional share portfolios,” and you get 527,000 results with everything from reviews on seven of the best fractional share investing brokerages to links to some of the leading players in this burgeoning area of the markets. Many think of Robinhood when they think fractional, but the truth is almost every major online broker in this country’s got some offering or service.InvestorPlace – Stock Market News, Stock Advice & Trading Tips Heck, I can remember years ago, when FolioFN was the only game in town. Launched in 2000, it was acquired by Goldman Sachs (NYSE:GS) in May 2020. FolioFN’s self-directed accounts are scheduled to be transferred to Interactive Brokers (NASDAQ:IBKR) early in 2021. In the meantime, for those who don’t want to do the work of constructing a $5,000 portfolio of stocks to buy, here are 10 recommendations to help get you started. Alphabet (NASDAQ:GOOG, NASDAQ:GOOGL) Tesla (NASDAQ:TSLA) Nvidia (NASDAQ:NVDA) SVB Financial (NASDAQ:SIVB) Roku (NASDAQ:ROKU) Berkshire Hathaway (NYSE:BRK.A, NYSE:BRK.B) Dollar General (NYSE:DG) Apple (NASDAQ:AAPL) Williams-Sonoma (NYSE:WSM) Thor Industries (NYSE:THO) 9 Stocks That Investors Think Are the Next Amazon Their share prices will add up to $5,000 or less. To make things interesting, all 10 stocks must have share prices exceeding $100. Stocks to Buy: Alphabet (GOOG, GOOGL) $1,740 Source: BigTunaOnline / Shutterstock.com It’s funny, I had intended to include Amazon (NASDAQ:AMZN) in my list of 10 stocks to buy, but given I was limiting my names to those companies with shares prices greater than $100, the e-commerce giant’s $3,166 share price would have made it awfully hard to fit nine more under $5,000. So I went with Alphabet, a company I didn’t write about at all in 2020, but helps me achieve my task. InvestorPlace’s Mark Hake recently suggested that rising ad sales make it an attractive investment in 2021. My colleague compares Google to the valuations of Apple, Microsoft (NASDAQ:MSFT), and Amazon. He reckons that Google should have a similar valuation to the three companies at $1.43 trillion or 6.7 times sales. As I write this, Google’s market capitalization is $1.18 trillion, 17% below Hake’s simple calculation, which puts its share price at $2,112 per share. I like the upside. Tesla (TSLA) $845 Source: franz12 / Shutterstock.com The second-highest share price in our $5,000 portfolio, we can thank Elon Musk for doing a five-for-one stock split in August 2020. Without it, TSLA would take up 86% of our investment capital. I’m an unabashed Tesla fan, so I’m not going to give you reasons why the valuation is over-the-top, although there’s no question it puts all the other large car companies to shame with its $810 billion market cap. InvestorPlace contributor Matt McCall recently gave investors some wise advice regarding the electric vehicle (EV) maker. McCall believes that rather than griping about the price you have to pay for its shares, embrace the fact that even the mighty Tesla has corrections, so buy like crazy on the rare occasion that it happens. To illustrate his point, McCall references its pullback in September 2020, shortly after its stock split. On Aug. 31, it was trading just under $500. In a week, it fell 34% after Tesla was left off the annual additions list for the S&P 500. 7 Cheap Stocks to Buy as Democrats Gain Control Ultimately, Tesla was added to the index on Dec. 31. As money managers added TSLA to their portfolios, it moved even higher. Nvidia (NVDA) $528 Source: Hairem / Shutterstock.com If you’re one of the lucky investors who joined the Nvidia bandwagon five years ago when it was trading around $26, you’re sitting on an annualized total return of more than 79% through Jan. 13. It’s crazy to think that things can get any better for NVDA shareholders over the next five years. Still, they actually could, given the growth in gaming, cloud computing, and artificial intelligence. As my InvestorPlace colleague, Faizan Farooque, recently stated, you most certainly won’t be buying Nvidia if you’re a value investor — it trades at 45 times its forward earnings, far higher than many of its peers — but when it can grow sales at 50% a quarter and continue to beat analyst expectations, it most certainly deserves a premium valuation. In June 2019, I argued that Nvidia’s free cash flow made it a great stock to buy on dips. At the time, it had lost about half of its value over nine months — October 2018 to June 2019 — and was trading around $145. Some 18 months later, it’s up almost four-fold and generating more than $4.2 billion in 12-month free cash flow. Buy some now and wait for the next big dip. It’s bound to happen sooner or later, no matter the near-term prospects. SVB Financial (SIVB) $465 Source: Pavel Kapysh / Shutterstock.com I’m not going to say too much about SVB Financial because it’s one of those bank stocks to buy that you have to get to know for yourself to understand why it’s so special. You wouldn’t think this was the case by the analyst coverage of its stock. At the moment, 21 analysts cover SIVB, with eight rating it a buy and 12 a hold with an average price target of $424.49. Sure, it’s come a long way over the past year compared to its peers — it has a one-year total return of 74.2% — but that’s because investors recognize that the bank’s laser-like focus on providing lending, asset management, and banking services to innovators and entrepreneurs will always be in demand. Recently, it announced that it would pay $900 million to buy Boston Private Financial Holdings (NASDAQ:BPFH) for a combination of cash and stock. The Boston-based private bank specializes in wealth management and other banking services. Together, SVB Financial’s wealth management business will have almost $18 billion in assets under management. The 7 Best Marijuana Stocks on the Markets Right Now Continue to ignore SIVB at your peril. Roku (ROKU) $418 Source: JHVEPhoto / Shutterstock.com The streaming platform has gotten off to a hot start in 2021, up 26% year-to-date and more than 205% over the past 52 weeks. Roku and HBO Max parent, Warner Media, buried their longstanding disagreement recently by announcing that the streaming service would be available on Roku as of Dec. 17, 2020. By getting a spot on Roku, HBO Max is now on all the major over-the-top platforms. “We believe that all entertainment will be streamed and we are thrilled to partner with HBO Max to bring their incredible library of iconic entertainment brands and blockbuster slate of direct-to-streaming theatrical releases to the Roku households with more than 100 million people that have made Roku the No. 1 TV streaming platform in America,” Scott Rosenberg, SVP of Roku’s platform business, said in a statement. The key part of the above statement is that Roku believes that all entertainment will eventually be streamed. I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I recommended ROKU stock in December 2017 and still recommend it among stocks to buy in 2021. Berkshire Hathaway (BRK.A, BRK.B) $235 Source: Jonathan Weiss / Shutterstock.com I recently read an article about the reasons why Warren Buffett failed in 2020. This kind of analysis of the Oracle of Omaha has been going on for years, possibly as long as Buffett’s been investing in stocks to buy. Yes, Berkshire Hathaway severely underperformed the S&P 500 in 2020 — up 2.5% versus 16.5% for the index — but I’ve always believed that the biggest boost to BRK stock will come when the holding company has to be methodically wound down due to the passing of Buffett and Charlie Munger. Consider that its equity portfolio, which is massive at $271 billion, represents just one-third of Berkshire’s assets at the end of September 2020. I can assure you that the true value of the $418 billion or so in privately-owned assets on its balance sheet is worth far more than this. When the time comes to wind it down, the board will do what’s necessary to ensure fair value is obtained for every business. It’s possible the process could take a decade or more. The 7 Best Startups You Can Buy on StartEngine Right Now When people say that Warren Buffett has lost his touch, they forget that the final tally has not been given. Not by a longshot. Dollar General (DG) $213 Source: Jonathan Weiss / Shutterstock.com It’s not a secret that Dollar General caters to customers that don’t have a tremendous amount of disposable income. It probably also doesn’t come as a surprise that its employees aren’t flush with cash, so the fact that it will pay those of its 157,000 employees who get a vaccine four hours of pay is noble. And smart business. “‘We do not want our employees to have to choose between receiving a vaccine or coming to work,’ Dollar General (DG) said in a press release, noting that its hourly workers face hurdles to getting vaccinated, such as travel time, gas mileage or childcare needs.” If there’s a retailer that has done well during Covid-19, Dollar General would have to be at the top of the list. In early December, Dollar General reported Q3 2020 results that included 12.2% same-store sales growth and a 62.7% increase in earnings per share. As a result, it’s passed on a total of $173 million in 2020 for employee appreciation bonuses. As it continues to open more stores while simultaneously growing its gross margins, the fact that it remembered that its employees are the ones who deliver this good fortune to shareholders is a big reason why DG stock will continue to move higher in 2021. Apple (AAPL) $130 Source: Hadrian / Shutterstock.com Most of the talk around AAPL stock right now revolves around its long-simmering Project Titan and its efforts around delivering its own autonomous electric vehicle. The Verge recently reported that Apple held discussions in 2020 with Canoo (NASDAQ:GOEV), the EV startup using a platform based on a skateboard to provide a much better cabin design for its future vehicles. Canoo apparently just wanted some investment capital. Apple, on the other hand, was thinking more about acquiring the business and integrating it into its existing work in this area. The two didn’t come to an agreement. Canoo went public and Apple’s now working with Hyundai (OTCMKTS:HYMTF) on getting a self-driving EV to market by 2024. Wedbush Securities analyst Dan Ives recently suggested that Apple could be worth $3 trillion by sometime in 2022 due to strong iPhone 12 sales. He projects it could sell as many as 250 million in 2021. “If Apple continues to execute at this pace, a $3 trillion market cap could be on the horizon over the 12 to 18 months,” Ives is reported to have said. 7 Dividend Stocks That Are Growing Their Payouts As I write this, it’s at $2.2 trillion. Williams-Sonoma (WSM) $125 Source: designs by Jack / Shutterstock.com Several news outlets reported that the retailer’s CEO, Laura Alber, sold some Williams-Sonoma stock just before Christmas. Don’t be alarmed; it was only 15,000 shares or 3.5% of her total holdings. And it was part of her Rule 10b5-1 trading plan started in September 2019. As I always like to say, even wealthy CEOs have bills to pay. Over the past year, Williams-Sonoma stock has delivered a total return of 61.4% for its shareholders, including Alber. That’s double the returns of the specialty retail sector as a whole and three times the entire U.S. markets’ performance. In June 2016, I called WSM one of the best retail stocks to buy due to its excellent omnichannel experience. Going on five years later, nothing’s changed about that assertion. During Covid-19, business at the retailer has been full-speed ahead. Here’s what I said about it in December: “It’s got a business that’s ideally balanced between online and brick-and-mortar sales. In the second quarter, it generated 76% of its sales online; in Q3, due to the novel coronavirus constraints, its online sales accounted for 70% of its total revenue — while growing by almost 50% over last year– and that’s during a pandemic,” I said on Dec. 9. “More importantly, its Q3 profits were through the roof — up 151% to $2.56 a share thanks to significantly higher margins — and that was only through Nov. 1. It doesn’t include Black Friday and Cyber Monday.” The world’s going digital, and that’s good news for Williams-Sonoma. Thor Industries (THO) $105 Source: Angel DiBilio / Shutterstock.com There is no question that 2020 was good for recreational vehicle manufacturers such as Thor Industries, as people young and old sought the great outdoors, away from the maddening, Covid-19 crowd. The problem for investors who’ve followed the RV industry for any length of time is that the good times never seem to last. In the case of the novel coronavirus, once vaccines make humans comfortable with packing together in large crowds, the great outdoors won’t be nearly as enticing as Paris or Australia. That being said, the latest push into RVs may be coming from a sub-set of consumers who might actually take to the open road. “All dealers are reporting a high mix of first-time buyers as evident by lack of trade-in units,” said Wells Fargo analyst Tim Conder in a July 15, 2020 note. “Dealers are saying as high as 80% of customers are first-time buyers … vs. the typical 25% mix. The pandemic is driving the purchase decision for new-entrants.” If even half of those first-time buyers stick around long enough to upgrade to a bigger or better model, Thor Industries might not have to worry about the eventual downturn. To me, THO is one of the perfect stocks to buy for the long haul, buying more whenever it corrects by more than 5-10%. On the date of publication, Will Ashworth did not have (either directly or indirectly) any positions in the securities mentioned in this article. Will Ashworth has written about investments full-time since 2008. Publications where he’s appeared include InvestorPlace, The Motley Fool Canada, Investopedia, Kiplinger, and several others in both the U.S. and Canada. He particularly enjoys creating model portfolios that stand the test of time. He lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. At the time of this writing Will Ashworth did not hold a position in any of the aforementioned securities. More From InvestorPlace Why Everyone Is Investing in 5G All WRONG Top Stock Picker Reveals His Next 1,000% Winner It doesn’t matter if you have $500 in savings or $5 million. Do this now. The post 10 Smart Stocks to Buy With $5,000 appeared first on InvestorPlace.

#17th #Crypto #daily #January #movers #Shakers

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