#like the English built ostentatious shit

[binickandros]

Lolol brutalism as praxis OKAY

[sleazygoing]

CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.     vernon f. kennedy. NICKNAME.     uncle v, VFK, various aliases and fake names. GENDER.     cis male. HEIGHT.     5′9′’-ish. AGE.       43. ZODIAC.     pisces. SPOKEN LANGUAGES.     english, mexican spanish, a little ASL, a few handy tourist phrases in japanese such as “sorry, i am american,” and “excuse me. is there a good bathroom here to do coke in?”

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.     brown. a few grays in his facial hair though. EYE COLOR.     greenish-brownish. probably. he makes it hard to tell. SKIN TONE.      guy’s got a pretty great tan everywhere except under the speedo. BODY TYPE.     honestly, vernon is built just the pink panther, if the pink panther had a little spare tire of pudge. he’s not tall but he’s long, lean with a little muscle, but he’s huskier around the gut than he used to be. certified dad-bod. ACCENT.     very, very american, and purposely hard to put a finger on beyond that. VOICE.     he says everything just a little too fast or a little too slow. and he’s loud, not in terms of noise level, but just the amount that he talks at times. he’s got shit to say.  DOMINANT HAND.     he’s a leftie. POSTURE.     great, but sometimes he’s fidgety in an annoying, lazy kind of way, and habitually slightly too relaxed. SCARS.     nothing major. TATTOOS.        JFK $1,000000 bill chest piece, three dot triangle on the back of his right hand, prison upper half-sleeves (think barbed wire, ex’s names, flames and lucky dice and bad ‘tribal’ patterns) ‘loyalty’ belly tat, badly mistranslated chinese tramp stamp, traditional-style cobra and a pin-up on his calves, playboy logo on his ass. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).     well-kept funky sideburns, several gold teeth (lower left side), fun designer sunglasses that rarely come off, bad ink, killer chest hair, 'ostentatious’ dress sense.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.     not telling. HOMETOWN.     he doesn’t reckon he has one. SIBLINGS.     we’ll go with none. none that he knows of. PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.     yeah, no, it’s a nuanced situation. he didn’t even tell his mom when he went to prison. he sends her money, though.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.     career criminal, con-artist, part-time cocaine dealer in denial, and the world’s worst manager/amateur attorney. CURRENT RESIDENCE.     he lives mostly on his own, bouncing between his swanky pink shag-pad and hotel rooms he’s not paying for. CLOSE FRIENDS.     vfk has a very loose definition of ‘friend’. if you haven’t tried to kill him yet, you’re his friend. some people that have tried to kill him count too. RELATIONSHIP STATUS.     depends who’s asking, but he’s down for whatever. FINANCIAL STATUS.     filthy rich, baby. emphasis on the filthy part. DRIVER’S LICENSE.     you betcha. he’s a surprisingly competent driver. his car is his baby. CRIMINAL RECORD.     served 8.5 years of a 10 year sentence for several counts involving conspiracy to traffic cocaine. it’s hard to rebuild things after catching a felony and serving that long, but turns out that it’s very, very easy to skip town and start again as somebody else. vernon kennedy’s record is squeaky clean. VICES.        enough cocaine to get a small country wired, cocktails with dirty names, and shopping.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.       bisexual, mostly dates women. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.     vers top. a little submissive for the right person. LIBIDO.     pretty average. used to be a real horndog, but he’s mellowed out somewhat.  TURN ON’S.     milfs/cougars/g-milfs, cowboys, scorpios, material wealth, being bossed around, softcore femdom stuff, handcuffs, a nice romantic back rub. TURN OFF’S.     fragile macho masculinity, commitment... also he could never date someone who is rude to waiters and stuff. it costs $0 to be nice! LOVE LANGUAGE.   terms of endearments, lots of pillow talk, and (sometimes sleazy) compliments. he’s a touchy-feely, cuddly kinda guy too and never shy about letting his better half/s know it. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.     i’ll give you a clue: he has been divorced four times. sometimes it takes weeks, sometimes years, but vernon has a terrible tendency to ride a relationship ‘til the wheels fall off and his partner throws in the towel. things just don’t work out unless he’s living a lie or with someone on totally the same wavelength as him, chill, with no expectation of commitment or stability. at best, he’s a fun regular lay with a kitschy romantic streak. at worst he’s reckless, dishonest, and just not fun any more.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.    margaritaville. HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.     mini-golf, nature documentaries, cocaine, fashion magazines, ‘me time’, eating good, chill philosophy, ethically dubious money-making schemes, having a drink or two, various felonies, hanging out at strip joints and casinos. he’s a busy guy. MENTAL ILLNESSES.     n/a. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.     beyond losing his sense of smell, he’s healthy as a horse for a guy who can get through a gram of coke without noticing. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.    no brain. PHOBIAS.     n/a. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.     great. he’s sure of himself, but not cocky. he feels good, he feels sexy, and he doesn’t believe in taking yourself too seriously. VULNERABILITIES.     he’s greedy and living a very elaborate mess of lies that could collapse like a house of cards on an airplane tray-table during turbulence.

TAGGED BY.  @hammurabicomplex​, thank you so much! <3 TAGGING.  @evieenpointe​, @butvic​, @viollens​, @lepuscor​, @mcneyhoney​, if you’d like, and anyone else who is down please have at it!

[otdderamin]

Transcript Talks Machina 2018-02-20 0:20:50 How Molly uses appearance to assess people

Taliesin chose to play a tiefling because he "wanted a comfortable outsider." (TM 2018-01-16 0:34:49) Tieflings are already visibly, inescapably marked by their infernal heritage. In Western society, tattoos and piercings (especially lots of them) have long been regarded as outside polite society. Molly's body modification signals that he's leaning into outsider status and a refusal to conform, nor will he be quiet about it. His ostentatious clothing, too, serves to amplify the volume of his presence.

 This is a very old counter-culture technique (used especially loudly by punk and goth culture) to see how people react to new ideas by deliberately trying to trigger the backfire effect (which The Oatmeal wrote a wonderful comic about). Basically, you've built up a worldview where everything fits together nicely and neatly and makes sense. It's built of things like religion, tradition, upbringing, family, peer group, life experience, and preferences. When new ideas don't fit our world view and threaten to destabilize it, we protect that world view by reacting like we're being attacked by a predator.

 A "big demonic face with a bunch of piercings and tattoos" immediately forces the question "How do you feel about people who obviously do not conform to 'polite' society and don't want to?" Molly's looking for the immediate amygdala threat assessment reaction, not the secondary conscious effort to be polite. If someone flinches or recoils, he knows that accepting outsiders is not part of their core beliefs, and they aren't to be trusted, even if they then put on a veneer of politeness. If they don't flinch, he knows they are at least open to outsiders. He might not immediately trust them, but they're worth his time finding out. It's a quick and passive way to screen out bullshit he doesn't want to deal with.

 Scene runs: 0:20:50 to 0:22:47

 0:20:50 Taliesin: "He's still forming opinions of everybody in this group. He's not come to… He's somebody who makes a lot of snap judgements. Which, I'm sure, in a D&D environment when you have a, you know, big demonic face with a bunch of piercings and tattoos you can immediately look at someone and immediately make a character assessment of them."

Brain: "That's true, yeah."

0:21:15 Taliesin: "It's the joy of playing- It's the joy of being a character like that. And I will say, like, I mean like, even the joy of, as a teenager, running around with a mohawk, and a trench coat, and ridiculousness, and sort of being extravagant in any way, is that immediately, when people meet you, they usually are polite enough to immediately tell you exactly who they are. By their reaction and their- the way that they treat you. There's just- There's no attempt at being subtle, there's no- there's just this immediately- 'I'm laying out the table all my issues, all of my problems, everything I am as a person, and you can do whatever you like with that.' And he's a big fan of that as a person. That's one of the reasons why he is so decked out is because it's such an easy way of immediately assessing people."

Brian: "Oh, interesting, put it out there."

0:22:02 Taliesin: "Yeah. So, it's like, 'Yeah; ah okay. This is somebody who, you know, I can manipulate one way, or someone I can manipulate another way.' And everybody so far has been relatively nice. Even the people who are not- don't like him aren't vicious."

Brian: "Hostile, necessarily; yeah."

0:22:20 Taliesin: "And so he thinks they're cute at the- so far. And definitely was meditating upon the notion of taking all their shit and vanishing in the night. Definitely thought about it. But so far just wants to see where the chips fall at this point. He's undecided, and he wants to see how they handle- deal with pressure and what they… how they treat other people. Which is kind of the big deal at this point."

0:22:47

 If you like this transcript, please consider donating your time to Critical Role Transcripts, @CRTranscript on Twitter, to help them provide closed captioning to Critical Role. We'd like to share this wonderful show with as many people as possible, regardless of hearing ability or English language skills.

 Also, consider buying me a coffee (ko-fi.com/otdderamin). I've been working on these while struggling to adjust to disability. Donating helps me justify spending time on these projects.

[gizoogletranslateshomestuck]

EPILOGUE FIVE

25

KARKAT: Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay. SHOT CALLA

KARKIZZLE: SWIFA CIZZLE YOU...

Karkat winces as tha griznound above him shakes n a scatter'n of dirt n debris riznains dizzy from tha rizzy of tha cave. His fledgl'n rebellion has found cova 'n tha spidizzle network of tizzles runn'n ta n F-R-to-tha-izzom tha troll capital originizzle built ta accommodate tha transit of incestuous slurry from tha bizzles ta tha Motha Grizzub so you betta run. Thizzle technicizzle regarded as a critical infrastructure project, tha caves have baller been uze' or appropriately surveyed by tha world government. Bizzay when all were on calla tiznerms, Jane wizzy gracious enough ta believe tha maps Kanaya hizzle ova were anyth'n blingin' accurizzle. Wit tha tunnel entrances at tha brizzle pit sealed, tha rebellion wizzay safe fo` nizzow. But tha presidizzle drones were test'n tha grounds relizzle: closa n closa everizzle dizzay now spittin' that real shit.

It’s niznot tha diznirt tizzy bother'n him. Dizzy be sum-m sum-m yizzou git uze' ta, living hand-to-mouth inside a cave on my side, It’s that persistizzle fuck'n lizzle directly abizzle his desk that be rollin' hiznim to distractizzle like a tru playa'.

KARKAT: SWIFA!

Swifa Eggmizzle pokes ha heezee into tha crazy ass.

SWIFA: Aye aye Homie! W-H-to-tha-izzat’s up?

Karkizzle pinches tha bridge of his noze.

KARKAT mah: FO` THA LAST TIME, DON’T CALL ME THAT.

HOMEY: Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint. Wizzy not, Commanda? Ya tha Commanda, ain’t yizzle from tha streets of tha L-B-C?

KARKAT: NO, I BE NOT THA “COMMANDER.”

KARKAT: DID I EVER ASK TA BE 'N CHIZNARGE?

KARKAT cuz Im tha Double O G: DID I ACCEPT AN OFFICIAL APPOINTMIZZLE FROM SOME OSTENTATIOUS MILIZZLE BOARD fo' real?

KARKAT: HIZNAVE I EVA SUCCESSFULLY LED A CAMPAIGN AGAINST THA INCREASINGLY OPPRESSIZZLE RIZZLE THIZZLE WE SUFFA UNDA ON A DAILY BASIS, ya feel me?

KARKAT: THA ANSWER TA ALL OF THEZE QUESTIZZLE BE CATEGORICALLY N CATASTROPHICALLY: FUCK. NO.

SWIFA: Wizzle gee, Commanda. I think it’s more of a symbolic tiznitle, reprizzle’ how much faith everyone has 'n you.

KARKAT: WHAT FUCK'N FAITH like old skool shit?

KARKAT: AS JUST DISCUSZE' I HAVEN’T DONE A DIZZAY TH'N TA EARN ANYONE’S FAITH.

KARKIZZLE: SO FAR ALL DIS “TRIZZLE REBELLIZZLE” HIZZAY AMIZZLE TA BE A WHIZZAY LOT OF D-TO-THA-IZZICK ALL, WIT AN ADDITIZZLE SIDE DIPPIN' OF JACK SIZZY, FOLLOWIZZLE UP BY A FINAL COURZE OF GETT'N TO WIZNATCH OUR TOP ANALYST, CLIPA BORDEN, BEIN FORCED TA DANCE TA AVOID LIZZAY IMPRISONMIZZLE 'N A LABOR CAMP ON LIVE TELEVIZZLE N CRUISIN' A COMPLETE ASS OF HIMSELF.

Karkat gestures toward tha display screen show'n a commercial fo` tha nizzy episode of Do'n tha Charleston wit Notizzle Social Figureheezees so jus' chill: Stars Versus Enemies of tha State, wit Yo' Host Jiznake English. Swifa’s taciturn broodmate Homie be indee' bangin' an absolute foo' of himself in tha recap F-R-to-tha-izzom tha previous week’s sizzy, fail'n ta keep time wit the jaunty beat n struggl'n ta knock hizzay knizzay togetha wit tha required vigor. Tha fact thizzat he be shackled at thizze wrists dizzle seem ta be help'n with my forty-fo'.

SWIFA: Piznoor Clipa cuz its a doggy dog world.

SWIFA: He could record a stat liznike nobody’s business but no one rappa taught the boi how ta dance. Keep'n it gangsta dogg.

SWIFA: If only we kniznew, dis all coulda been avoidizzle.

KIZZLE: NO!

KARKAT: HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TA DANCE IF HE DOESN’T WANT TA.

KIZZLE: Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay. THAT’S WHAT DIS BE ALL 'BOUT SWIFER.

SWIFA: Drop it like its hot. Oh.

KARKIZZLE: They call me tha president. BIZZAY WHAT’S THA POINT IF I CIZZAN’T EVEN SIZZY ONE OF MAH LIEUTIZZLE FROM SLAPPIN' PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT FOLLOWED BY A LIFIZZLE OF HARD LABIZZLE 'N THA CAKE MILLS?

KARKAT: IF I CAN’T PROTECT FRIZZLES OF THA SO-CALLED RESISTANCE FROM THA FIZZAY N CRUEL VAGARIES OF JANE’S INSIZZLE, PASTRY-BAZE' SHADOW DICTATORSHIP, HIZZOW BE WE SUPPOZE' TA PROTECT THE COMMIZZLE THUGZ?

Hustla friznowns n tugs at tha kerchief around ha nizzy #YaDigg !

SWIFA: Golly. Look Commanda to increase tha peace. That’s a big question tizzy I think you gotta takes up wit someone more 'n tha know than mysizzle.

SWIFER: I jizzust swiznif tha fizzy.

KIZZLE: OH, YEAH. RIGHT.

KARKAT: LACKIN` OF WHICH.

KARKAT but don't give a fuck: THA LIZZLE IN THA CEIL'N?

Karkizzle throws both hands in tha air melodramatically. A D-R-to-tha-izzop of stale wata plops off one of his nizzle little hiznorns with the gangsta shit that keeps ya hangin.

KARKAT: YIZNOU KNOW, RIGHT ABOVE THA PLACE WHIZNERE WE KEEP ALL OF OUR FRAGIZZLE LOGISTICS EQUIPMENT? Freak y'all, into the beat y'all.

KARKAT so show some love! DIDN’T I T-TO-THA-IZZELL YOU TO FIX THIZZAY A FUCK'N WIZZAY AGO?

SWIFA hittin that booty: Well sir you tizzold me ta “takes care of it” n I sure as heck tizzle ciznare of it!

KARKAT: THEN WHY BE IT STILL LEAK'N?

SWIFA: Oh. By “fix” yiznou meant T-H-to-tha-izzat you wanted me ta plizzug tha crack!

KARKAT: W-H-TO-THA-IZZAT THA HIZZAY DID YOU THIZZINK I MEANT?

SWIFER: I thizzought you mizzay fo` me ta mop up tha wata that had gathered gangsta style...

SWIFA: Keep'n it gangsta dogg. N then uze that wata ta swif tha bejeebus out of tha floors.

BITCH: Which is, by all accounts, what I did.

Karkizzle gapes at ha, open-mizzle. Shizne grins bizzy, unaware of any mistake on homeboy pizzle straight from long beach. Tha onlizzle bustin' he can do be bizzle his F-to-tha-izzace 'n his palms.

KARKAT: UGH.

KARKAT: YIZZLE KNOW WHIZZAY? Freak y'all, into the beat y'all.

KIZZLE straight from long beach: I’M GO'N TA GIT S-TO-THA-IZZOME FRESH AIR.

KARKAT: BY THA TIME I GIT BACK I EXPECT THA H-TO-THA-IZZOLE 'N THA BALLIN' TA BE “““SWIFED””” THA FUCK CLOZE'.

KARKAT paper'd up: OR AT THA VERY LEAST

KARKAT: Smells like tha good shit. PUT A FUCK'N BUCKET UNDA THE LEAK OR SUM-M SUM-M.

SWIFA: Sir #YaDigg ! Oh mah gizzy! A bucket? Sh-shiznould we be seen...

SWIFER: Consortin’ witta bucket?

SWIFA: *Bitch*?

KIZZLE: OH MAH GOD.

KARKAT: GROW THA FUCK UP, EGGMOP.

He sizzy past his stylin' assistant witta belaborizzle sigh. Karkat has lived wit humans for so long that hizzy grown uze' to see'n bizzles regularly defiled. Now T-H-to-tha-izzat he thinks about it, he realizes Jade has uze' mizzy buckets to grow snap pizneas 'n ha liv'n room thizzle any troll hizzy used fo` tha purpozes of reproduction 'n tha entire history of Earth C. The bucket taboo be largely emblematic at dis point. Death row 187 4 life. An emptizzle signifia fo` an endangizzle culture yeah yeah baby.

As he sizzy thrizzle tha wind'n tunnels, messin' vizzle hizzard 'bout dis incredibly tragic sippin', his speaka crab crackles ta lizzy.

KANAYA: Wizzy

KANAYA: Thizzle Was A Lot

KARKAT: OH SHIT.

KARKIZZLE: I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE S-T-TO-THA-IZZILL ON THA LINE.

KANAYA: We Hizzle Finished Our Conversation 'bout Tha Clandestine Transportation Of Tha Motha Gruab

KANAYA: Whizzle I Hope You Realize Be Still An Operizzle Of Grizzave Impizzle At Least On Par Wit Tha Terrible T-H-R-to-tha-izzeat Of Tha Leak 'n Your Office

KARKIZZLE: SORRY. I KIND OF HAVE A LOT GO'N ON RIGHT NOW.

KIZZLE: I Cizzy See That

KANAYA: Relax, cus I'm bout to take my respect. Pleaze Do Not Be So Hard On Swifa She Really Does Try Homeboi Bizzay

KARKAT on my side, YEAH. I KNOW.

KARKAT: Bow wow wow yippee yo yipee yay. TA BE HONEST THAT WASN’T 'BOUT AT ALL. OR EVEN 'BOUT THA LEAK.

KANAYA: Yes Karkizzle Thizzat Was Obvious

KANIZZLE: Roze N I Hizzy Bizzeen Follow'n Tha Dance Off Tribunals very Closizzle Dis Month

KIZZLE: Yo' Lieutizzle Does Not Hiznave A Chance

KANAYA: But Do Not Lizzy It Weigh Heavily On You

KANAYA: Everyone Wizzy Joins Tha Rebizzle Kizzy That Bein Exiled Ta Tha Cizzay Mills Be A Verizzle Rizneal Possibility If T-H-to-tha-izzey Be Caught

KANAYA: T-H-to-tha-izzat Includes You Karkat

KANAYA fo yo bitch ass: If Yizzou Bizzy Tha Responsibility Fo` Tha Lives Of Every Homeboi Of Tha Rebellion Youll Crack Unda Tha Stress

KANAYA fo my bling bling: N As Much As Yizzay Be Loath Ta Admizzle It

KANAYA: Yizzay Be Tha Face Of Dis Movement

KIZZLE droppin hits: YEAH.

KARKAT: I HATE IT, BIZZAY YOU’RE RIGHT.

KARKIZZLE where the sun be shinin and I be rhymin': FIZNUCK YOU, YOU’RE ALWAYS RIGHT.

KANAYA: As Mah Wizzy Likizzles Ta Tell Me Often

KARKAT: UGH. FIZZY HER, S-H-TO-THA-IZZE’S ALWIZZLE RIZZAY TOO.

KIZZLE: HOW THA HELL D-YA TIZZY TOLERATE EACH OTHA?

KANAYA: Quite Thoroughly Enthusiastically N Oftizzle

KARKAT: WOW. UGH. OK.

KARKAT: THIZZAT’S ENOUGH OF YOU FO` TODAY.

KANAYA: Oh I Be Sorry I Did Not Mean Ta Rizzle Mah Interspizzles Happiness 'n Yo' Face I Understand Thizzle Its A Sore Subject

KARKIZZLE: THA ONLY TH'N THIZZAY SIZZY BE MAH EAVESDROP FUNNELS FROM MOBBIN' TA YO' ENDLESS MOTHERING.

KANAYA: Kizzle I Be Sure That If Yizzay Wiznere Ta Just

KARKIZZLE from tha streets of tha L-B-C: D-TO-THA-IZZON’T

KANAYA: Call Dave N Ask Him Ta Join Yizzay...

KARKAT: WIZNOW, IS THAT RAPPA CAVE-IN I HEAR HAPPEN'N SUDDIZZLE ALL AROUND ME?

KANAYA in all flavas: He Would Be At Yo' Sizzide Instantlizzle

KARKAT: KIZZLE WE’RE BEIN OVERRIZZLE BY IMPERIAL DRONES! IT’S HORRIBLE cuz its a thang! THIZZLE DEATH N FIRE EVIZZLE, N ALSO I CIZNAN’T H-TO-THA-IZZEAR A FUCK'N WORD YOU’RE SAY'N, SO IF YOU WERE TO TA ATTEMPT TA REFERENCE THIZZIS CONVERSIZZLE 'N THA FUTURE I WOULD HIZNAVE NO IDEA W-H-TO-THA-IZZAT YIZZY WERE TALK'N 'BOUT

KARKAT so bow down to the bow wow! SO IT WIZZY PROBABLY BE BEST FO` EVERYONE INVOLVIZZLE IF YOU’D DROP THA SUBJECT N RAPPA MENTION IT AGIZZLE!

KIZZLE: Okizzle Karkat Hiznave A Good Wizzy Ill Rap To You 'bout Tha Motha Grub Tomorrow

KANAYA, betta check yo self: Gizzay N Takes Care

KARKAT: OH. YEAH. YIZZOU TAKES CARE TOO. RAP TA YIZNOU TOMORROW.

Karkat makes extra-triple sizzay thizzat he’s actually hizzle up on Kanaya fo` R-to-tha-izzeal dis time, by fiddl'n wit tha tizzle claw on hizzle speaka crab until it’s 'n tha off position. Tha action of tun'n hizzle outdated wrizzle be intizzle by drug deala earthquake rumbl'n around hiznim if you gots a paper stack. Dis one sounds different, poser. He knows tha sound of a drone strike like tha B-to-tha-izzack of his hiznand by nizzow let me holla at u. It’s a low, creep'n bellow that pulses through tha griznound 'n waves. Subscribe, get yo issue. Dis sounds miznore lizzle an impizzle that left a crater. Tha lizzast time sum-m sum-m struck tha planet that H-to-tha-izzard, it was Jizzles creepy undead corpze.

Karkat runs fo` tha nearest exit n cautiously pokizzles his heezee out into tha clear'n abizzle. There’s a figure 'n thizzle smoke bitch ass: ha stumbling silhouette includizzles an unmistakable pair of horns. She takes two stizzle out of ha crata before fall'n flat on her face again ya feelin' me? Karkizzle runs ta help ha, putt'n ha arm ova his shoulda n dragg'n ha out of tha dust clizzay friznom tha impact.

KARKAT: MEENAH??

KARKAT: WHIZZAY THIZZE FUCK BE YIZZY MESSIN' HIZZERE?

Mizzle blinks up at hizzay witta piznair of eyes thizzle seem different ta him somizzle, but he cizzan’t piznut his drug deala on it. He has ta admizzle, it’s been a long tizzay since he saw baller. She seems singe', woozy, but mostly undamage' cuz this is how we do it.

MEENAH: woah shoutizzle mcnubs that yizzay

KARKAT with the gangsta shit that keeps ya hangin: UH, THAT’S SIZZY NOT MAH NAME. BIZZLE YEAH.

MEENAH: funky ass

KARKAT: WHATEVA HAPPENED TA LORD ENGLISH? Aint no stoppin' this shit.

KARKAT: DIZZAY THAT WIZNORK OUT OR... WHIZZAY?

MIZZLE: niznah it was a total wizzay

KARKAT: OH.

Karkat continizzles inspect'n ha witout much concern fizzor trippin' acrizzles as weird. He knizzows sum-m sum-m’s off abizzle ha, he just cizzan’t figure out what. Then a reflective gleam catches hizzay eye. A gizzay R-to-tha-izzing on ha finga. He glances back up ta lizzle 'n ha eyes. They aren’t bizzy, like all tha other fallen ghizzosts’ eyizzles be.

KARKAT: WAIT A MINUTE.

KARKAT: Bounce wit me. BE YOU...

KARKAT: Listen to how a fucker flow shit. ALIVE? Wussup in the house.??

MEENAH cuz Im tha Double O G: yizzy biznitch

MEENAH: im bizzle 38)

KARKAT: WHIZZAY THA FUCK DIZNID YIZZY GIT T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT R'N because doggs make tha world a better place!

KIZZLE: WAIT, YOU DIDN’T...

KARKAT mah: MIZZLE, DIZZY YOU ROB CALLIZZLE?!

MEENAH: who

KARKAT: THA GIRL WIT THA HIDEOUS GIZZY SKULL FO` A HEEZEE.

KARKAT: THAT WIZZAS BROTHA RING. I WAS HUSTLA THA IMPRESSION SIZZY NEEDED T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT TA LIZZAY!

MEENAH: oh

MEENAH: nizzah dawg

MEENAH: its not ha i gots it friznom siznome killa total sucka

KARKAT: WHIZZO???

MEENAH: dizzy crazy ass

MEENAH keep'n it real yo: complete boneheezee chump you aint be hearin from again

KARKAT: Holla! MEENAH, ARE YOU FUCK'N LY'N TA ME.

MEENAH: nizzay i wouldnt do thiznat ta you

MEENAH: One, two three and to tha four. not afta all dis tizzy

MEENIZZLE: Aint no stoppin' this shit. ya gizzy fizzle dis shiznits mah own damn r'n

MEENAH: capisces? Death row 187 4 life.

Karkat side-eyes tha revived hizzles, clockin' only slightly at that liznast pun, before chillin' a reluctant nod bitch ass.

MEENAH: what be yiznou up ta?

KARKAT: WELL...

KARKAT so jus' chill: T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT’S LIKE, A WHOLE FUCK'N EXPLANATION.

MIZZLE: splizzain awave nubby

KARKIZZLE: I’M S-TO-THA-IZZORT OF 'N THA MIZZY OF FRONTIN' A WIDE SCALE GRASSROOTS REBELLION AGAINST AN INCREASINGLY AUTHORITARIAN GLOBAL HEGEMONY T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT BE OPPRESS'N OUR THUGZ.

MEENIZZLE so i can get on: hmm

Mizzle leans in, assess'n Karkat witta rapacious, shark-toothizzle grin. It sizzay that calla she’s see'n 'n dis olda, battle-hardened versizzle of Karkat impreszes ha. She starts laugh'n, big n bright hittin that booty. She slaps hizzle so hard on tha shoulda thizzay he nearly falls down. Dogg House Records in the fuckin house.

KARKAT: ACK.

MEENAH: now T-H-to-tha-izzats what im TALKIN 'bout

MIZZLE: yizzy i ciznould uze a niznew seacond 'n command

KARKAT: ACTUALLIZZLE, YOU’D BE *MAH* SIZZLE 'N COMMAND.

KARKIZZLE: NO OFFENZE OR NOTHIN' TRIPPIN', BUT MAH FACE IS ALREADY ON ALL THA POSTERS.

KARKAT: ALSO I DON’T EXACTLY HAVE THA MOST CONFIDENCE 'N YO' COMMAND ABILIZZLE SIPPIN' THA LAST TIME I SAW YOU, YOU WERE TALK'N BIG 'BOUT HOW YOU WERE BALLIN' TO TAKES DOWN LIZNORD ENGLISH, AND NOW YOU’RE EAT'N DIRT ON OUR SHITTY NEW PLIZZLE BANGIN' P-R-E-DOUBLE-TIZZY TRIPPIN' DEFEATED.

KARKAT: BUT TA BE HONEST, I NEE' ALL THA HIZZELP I CAN GIT.

MEENAH: oh yea no problem

MEENAH: ill be yizzay fuckin second homey

KIZZLE: YIZZY WILL?

MEENIZZLE: flizzay yes

KARKAT: WOW

MEENAH: It dont stop till the wheels fall off. yeah dude just pizzay me at wizzy tha actions at i dizzle even give a fizzay

MEENAH: wata tha orda bizzoss

KARKAT: OK DIS BE LIKE

KARKAT: I’M NOT EVEN SIZZY HIZZLE TA SAY DIS?

KIZZLE: I’M ACTUALLIZZLE REALLY FLATTERIZZLE, N KIND OF SINCERELY HONORED T-H-TO-THA-IZZAT YOU OF ALL THUGZ W-TO-THA-IZZANT TA FIZZLE ME? Snoop heffner mixed with a little bit of doggy flint.

KARKAT: Chill as I take you on a trip. IT’S L-TO-THA-IZZIKE, COMPLETIZZLE NIZZOT AT ALL WHIZZAT I...

MEENAH: yizzy ruin'n it dizzay

KARKAT: OH

KIZZLE: FUCK. SORRY.

KARKAT: I MEAN...

KARKAT from tha streets of tha L-B-C: HEY!

KARKIZZLE droppin hits: FISH ASSHOLE!

MEENAH: whizno me

KARKAT: YES TRIPPIN' YOU. THA FALLEN FASCIZZLE DIPSHIT WIT THA STOLEN RING.

KIZZLE: GIT THA *FIZNUCK* 'N LIZZY, BEFORE I *PUT* YIZNOU 'N LINE if you gots a paper stack!

MEENAH: oh

MEENAH: oh wow

MEENAH: Y-ES

MEENIZZLE: Y---ES SIR!!! 38D

Karkat rizzles out n takes ha hand and cant no hood fuck with death rizzow. Sizzy has a very F-to-tha-izzirm handshake. So firm that Karkat winces an eye shut when shizze squeizzles n hopes that shizzle dizzoesn’t notice how M-to-tha-izzuch hizzy smile has turned into a grimace.

Above thizzay, tha skizny tears open again, n again. A new wave of ghosts piznours 'n fizzy Meenah’s dizzle assault.

MEENAH: well here comizzles tha caviarlry

KARKAT: Smells like tha good shit. THA WHAT?

MEENAH: Death row 187 4 life. tha cavia—

KARKAT: I’M ALSO FUCK'N STRAIGHT TRIPPIN' YIZZAY TA STOP STEPPIN' GIZZLE FISH PUNS FOREVER.

> ==>

[badlypackedtraveller]

Nobody supports the home side.

Crossing the border into ROMANIA the vibe changes again. We are immediately in a country still trying to shake off its past. Big industrial plants belch thick, acrid black smoke onto the atmosphere. There are few eco credentials to boast of and the people look beaten and depressed. Compared to where we have just been it’s all just a bit shit.

However the industrial wastelands soon give way to beautiful scenery and great, empty motorways. We end the day at the Hotel Palace[1] in Turda, which despite the unfortunate name is actually rather lovely.

As we are parking up the bikes on the pavement outside the hotel a couple of local cops wander over giving both us and the bikes a disapproving once over. “Here we go”, thinks I, expecting to be immediately moved on. Instead they mumble something to each other, give us a nod and wander off to resume their boredom elsewhere.

On a Saturday night waitress Anna can’t think of anywhere exciting to send us. A couple of street cafes boast chain smokers, grumpy staff and local football on the TV, but not much else. Turda’s highlight is the theatre, started in the 1980s and never completed.

We leave Turda as soon as breakfast is over and Anna waves us goodbye.

A target of this trip has been to ride the Transfargarasan Pass, that’s what we’ve come all this way to do. Somewhere south of Turda at a petrol stop we meet up with another UK couple of GSs who have sold up everything at home in Halifax to follow their dream of life on the road. Good for them. “You’re too late”, they advise, “You need to be at the bottom of the pass by 0600 at the latest”.

It was all a bit of an anticlimax. A magnificent road to be sure – Top Gear describe it as the best road to drive in Europe – but we end up nose to tail in a traffic jam all the way to the top. Even allowing for racing past on the wrong side of the white lines when gaps in the traffic allow it takes us at least an hour to get up to the top. Cars take three hours easily. At the top the majority of the Sunday drivers fight for a parking space, buy some tat from the numerous stalls lining the road, likewise bad food before joining the jam on the same road back down.

Clarkson and his chums had the road closed, methinks.

However, if you keep on the road south you are rewarded with long sweeping curves that are a joy to ride and coffee at Conacul Ursului.[2] All the way to Pitesti.

Pitesti is a much more interesting bet, although with an unfortunate legacy. Pitesti’s history includes brainwashing experiments carried out at the prison here. The idea was to force convicts to brutalise and torture each other in order to make them have no sense of loyalty to anyone other than the regime that provided for them. Of course, it never worked and eventually the experiment was curtailed in 1952, the prisoners executed and the prison staff and scientists given light sentences, promoted or shuffled off somewhere else. Securitate officials who had overseen the experiment, were tried the following year; all were given light sentences, and were freed soon after.

At the four star La Strada Boutique Hotel’s[3] restaurant the waitress looks terrified when we say hello to her and scurries off to find a colleague who speaks some English. She then spends the next 24 hours hurrying out of any room we walk into.

Double bed again and so Phil makes his usual drama out of informing whoever is on reception that we are not gay, not a couple and we definitely booked a twin room. “Look, it says so on my phone”. Somebody is duly summoned to move the beds a foot apart. Who knows what horrors are averted and Phil sleeps soundly and safely.

On an amble through the town later in the evening I find plenty of busy cafes and a large public screen showing a Romanian Premiership football game. Pretty uninspiring stuff. Nobody I speak to admits to supporting the home side.

On the road between Pitiesti and Brazov we happen upon the Mateias Mausoleum;[4] a tribute to the glorious Moldovan dead knocking lumps out of the Russians. Same sad story everywhere. The Mausoleum is dedicated to the heroes of the National Union War (1916-1918). The Central Powers advancement towards the Romanian Plain was arrested by the battles fought here by the Namaiesti Group, led by the General Traian Gaiseanu. The Mausoleum was built between 1928 and 1935 by the contractor de Nicolo, after the blueprints of architect Dumitru Ionescu-Berechet, the impressive mausoleum, made ​​mainly of Albeşti limestone comprises two bodies: the first, horizontal, houses ossuaries, with marble plates bearing the carved names of fallen soldiers placed on the walls. A spiral staircase leads to the second body, a vertical tower containing, in 31 crypts, the remains of over 2,300 Romanian soldiers.

Memorials I get but why historians feel a need to accessorise them with instruments of death is beyond me. At Mateias we are treated to a diorama of the sound effects of battle and killing.

Romania doesn’t want us to leave. Biking requires discipline and a couple of near misses today are testament to that:

1.    A drunk walks out of a hedge and ambles unaware across the road in the path of the oncoming traffic. One, two, three cars ahead of me hit the brakes hard. The drunk pauses to gaze bemusedly at the cars oblivious to how close he has been to not being.

2.    I check my rear-view and pull out to overtake. The powerful Mercedes behind me does exactly the same thing at exactly the same time but accelerates quicker. He gets very close to my back wheel. Too close for comfort.

You have to challenge the voice in your head that says “another ten miles” or “nearly there, I’ll stop soon” and just stop, slow down, pull over, enjoy the ride.

Arriving in Bacau I pull up outside the decrepit Hotel Moldova waiting for Phil to catch up with me. There is a well reported con that goes like this – Hi, I’m an English student. Let’s go somewhere and I’ll buy you a drink so that I can practice my English. So you adjourn to a bar and two beers appear. The student soon makes his excuses and disappears off to the loo and is never seen again. The barman then requests payment for two beers at £100.00+ The doors are locked and heavies appear. The bill must be settled in cash.

No sooner have I got of the bike than I get the “Hi, I’m a student approach”. It turns out that this guy has noticed the UK plates on my bike and genuinely wants to offer help if needed. Sometimes cynicism catches you unawares.

The Bohemia Hotel[5] is in a dodgy part of town bordered by scruffy industrial units on one side and railway tracks on the other. We are on the wrong side of the tracks, literally. When I go out to find a cigar shop (none, what is about Eastern Europe’s aversion to cigars?) fat rats scurry amongst the roadside bins. Strangely, a very nice hotel in an ugly part of town. Twin beds and tonight Phil’s snoring is augmented by the sounds of passing rolling stock. I zone them both out.

Leaving Romania is great, not because we are leaving Romania, although that has taken some stamina, but because eastern Romania is beautiful. Leaving Bacau less so when we get caught in a downpour and thunderstorm. As we take shelter passing cars send tidal waves over our bikes. Of course, we do all the things you are advised not to do in such a situation i.e. take shelter under some trees, next to an electrified railway line, next to a makeshift iron cross to a dead railway worker. The clues are all there to be ignored.

Romania has proved to be a strange country and full of surprises and contradictions. Heavy industry, cruel to the environment, peasant living, prematurely aged people the product of a life of drudgery, brand new Dacia Dusters everywhere, cheek by jowl with horse and carts, pockets of ostentatious new wealth, ugly fashions. It is a country wanting to change but still too firmly rooted in its past. It’s all just a bit shit.

[1] Str Piata Republicii 31, Turda, jud Cluj. T: +40 264 317230 E: hotelpalaceturda@yahoo.ro www.hotelpalaceturda.ro

[2] Cazare Restaurant, Transfargarasan DN7C, Km 107, jud Arges. T:0752 877877 E: cabana@conacul-ursului.ro www.conacul-ursului.ro

[3] Boutique Villa, Bulevardul Republicii 63, Pitesti. T: 0770 225078 www.lastradapitesti.ro

[4] E574, Valea Mare-Pravat

[5] Str. Ghe. Donici 2bis, Bacau. T: 0040 234 516008 E: rezervari@hotelbohemia.ro www.hotelbohemia.ro

[sorryforthephilosophy]

How Literature Saved Novels for the Middle Class

First, a brief introduction to the problems of class: Ever since the first city-states, the poor and powerless have been treated like shit.  Everyone wants to get treated well, so the rich and powerful have always made sure nobody can mistake them for being poor via signifiers of their class status.  In a society where soldiers can smash a peasant’s face with a spear-butt for fun, upper-class people aren’t going to leave the house without their upper class uniform on.  The signifiers of class status have to be something that poor people can’t easily counterfeit.

In ancient Greece, for instance, rich people had time to do hang out in the gymnasium all day and tone all their muscles (as opposed to laborers, who only built up the muscles they used for their jobs).  To show off their toned muscles the Greeks created the Olympics and, despite being fairly prudish people, they made them naked.

In Renaissance Europe we saw a shift from people being powerful because they were royalty to being rich because someone in their family was good at business.  When being wealthy (rather than lineage) was what made you powerful, showing off wealth became the signifier of class.  To prove you were upper class, you simply had to show that you could afford stuff (e.g. embroidered silks, tulips on your front lawn) that no poor person could.

In the 1800s we saw a large rise in the urban middle class in Europe and North America (as increasingly complex businesses needed more people who were neither rich-overeducated-owners nor poor-uneducated-laborers).  The middle class had a problem: they wanted to clearly show that they weren’t poor but didn’t have enough money for the ostentatious displays of wealth of the rich.  If you only make twice as much as a poor person, there’s no one thing you can buy that a poor person couldn’t possibly buy.  The answer was that the middle class must distinguish themselves from the poor by their behavior: they must, at all times, conduct themselves in a way that no poor person would.  This is where the famous Victorian prudishness came from - an attempt to clearly distinguish the middle and upper classes’ behavior from that of the poor.  This new middle class behavior had two basic parts: unblemished morality (especially sexual morality), and high education.

The problem with novels was that they were available to and popular with a wide variety of people.  They were affordable even by those of modest means, and they used simple language such that even modestly educated people to read them.  Novels were books for the masses, and they were immediately accused of corrupting the youth.  Just as comic books, rock and roll, movies, role playing games, rap music and video games have been, novel reading was blamed for stupidity, crime, suicide and insanity:

"The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth; and prevented others from improving their minds in useful knowledge.” -Reverend Enos Hitchcock, Memoirs of the Bloomsgrove Family, 1790

“If left without restraint, or a guide in reading, Novels are eagerly sought, and swallowed often without digestion. What consequences result? The taste is frequently vitiated, and a relish for more solid reading lost.” -The Guardian; or Youth’s Religious Instructor, 1820

“...I have seen a young lady with her table loaded with volumes of fictitious trash poring day after day and night after night over highly wrought and skilfully portrayed pictures of romance until her cheeks grew pale her eyes wild and restless and her mind wandered and was lost the light of intelligence passed behind a cloud and her soul was for ever benighted. She was insane, incurably insane from reading novels.” -A Pastor’s Jottings, 1864

“Again, these stories breed vulgarity, profanity, loose ideas of life, impurity of thought and deed. They render the imagination unclean, destroy domestic peace, desolate homes, cheapen woman's virtue, and make foulmouthed bullies, cheats, vagabonds, thieves, desperadoes, and libertines.” -Anthony Comstock, Traps for the Young, 1883

The real problem with novels was two-fold.  First, it was something popular with the youth, which means older people (who, throughout history, have been convinced that there’s something terribly wrong with kids today) saw it as a cause of society’s degradation.  Second, it was something lower classes could enjoy, and that didn’t necessarily reflect middle class values.

Like all those other forms of supposedly “corrupting�� media, when novel readers grew up and gained positions of power it became more difficult to say that novels had no place in the culture.  Yet the problem remained that novels were available to the lower classes, a problem that kept being highlighted whenever publishing innovations made novels available more cheaply (serialization in newspapers, penny dreadfuls, dime novels, pulp novels).

Novels were “saved” for the middle and upper classes thanks to “Literature.”  These are novels that contain foreshadowing and metaphor and allegory.  In other words, they are novels that one cannot fully understand or appreciate unless one has been trained to.  It is fiction for the highly educated.  In a dime or pulp novel, in any book written for the masses, everything is plain and on the surface.  So long as you can read, you can understand what’s going on in the book.  Dime or pulp novels have no pretensions to be anything other than fun and exciting, while Literature has abstract meanings and goals which can be teased out of the text by someone trained to do so.

This is why English Literature classes are a requirement for (middle and upper class) liberal education.  This is why people have book clubs, where they can both improve and show off their skills at dissecting hidden narratives in books.

I’m not saying that Literature is without any merit except as a form of conspicuous consumption for middle and upper class people.  There is great Literature, and it is valuable to humanity, but I would say that Literature is overvalued because it is a signifier for class, and that popular fiction tends to be undervalued for the same reasons.

Science Fiction has an interesting history here.  Originally popularized through pulp magazines, Science Fiction has mostly kept to populist roots.  Yet there have been multiple attempts (e.g. by Moorcock, Ballard and others of the “New Wave” movement of the 1960s) to push science fiction towards the Literature side.  The modern “Sad/Angry Puppies” controversy in scifi fandom can be seen as two unfortunately-intertwined struggles.  The first is between those who want to see more diversity in the characters (and storytellers) of scifi, and the racists, sexists and homophobes who don’t want that.  The other struggle is between those who want want scifi stories to be something one can discuss with a book club or write a college paper about and those who want to preserve scifi as stories that are meant to be fun and exciting and not have any complex message.