#literally the last thing i did before i exported this was give her two white lines for monchers

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Dess from the Deltarune comic Looking Glasses by @ferronickel, I loved her design at first sight so here's the promised fanart; check out the original comic! It's very much worth the read :D

[fortitude-sakura]

Noir [7/?]

AO3

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Naruto manages to haul Sasuke out of the club after the bouncer kicks them out (but not before Sasuke gets one last kick in), which a miracle in itself because Naruto is equally drunk. They take refuge at a nearby diner, ordering fries and the diner fry up to share.

Sasuke’s slumped in the booth, his head resting on his arms, his dark hair obscuring his face. They know he isn’t sleeping because he occasionally adds his own commentary during the conversation. The six of them are already crammed into a four person booth, Sasuke being like this only pushes Tenten closer to Neji - being sandwiched between the two.

Naruto goes on a rant about the creepy stranger and Tenten can’t help but feel guilty. She had started this by accepting the stranger’s offer to buy her a drink, knowing she had no intention of dancing with him at all. However, Hinata reaches across the table to pat her hand.

“It’s not your fault, Tenten. He was in the wrong.” she says reassuringly, and it makes Tenten feel worse. Hinata is unwaveringly kind and had always been so. She should have made more of an effort to be friends with her back then, even after Neji had left, even more so when Neji had stopped writing letters.

“Y’know I would have hit him too but two against one probably wasn’t fair.” Naruto laughs, “He deserved it though.”

“Motherfucker.” Sasuke mutters. Even Neji snorts.

“We should probably get going.” Hinata says, standing up.

“What? Why?” Naruto whines, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Because we have brunch with father tomorrow morning.” Hinata reminds him gently.

“Oh. Right. That.” Naruto says, suddenly more alert at the mention of his future father-in-law. “Anyway, it’s been fun guys! We should hang out again.”

“Is this a regular thing for you guys?” she decides to ask as she watches Hinata and Naruto call for a taxi.

“Not at all.” Neji replies, shaking his head. “It’s always Naruto’s idea.”

Sakura is sitting across from her, watching Sasuke with concerned eyes. It was probably very awkward for her - being here with her boss of all people. But the way she saw it, her boss was pretty much KO’d and might not even remember what happened.

“Should we take him home?” Sakura asks, nodding at Sasuke.

“I would, but I need to sober up before I can drive.” Neji says apologetically. “Drank more than I intended to.”

He had always been the most responsible growing up. He was always the class captain and he was good at leading their peers. He never once backed down from cleaning duties and would always do them and pick up her slack too. He would always hand in his homework on time and it would return with red ticks. He’d always helped both Lee and her with homework whenever they needed it (which was more often than she cared to admit). The only time he ever got in trouble was when the three of them were laughing and talking in Chinese (something that made their teachers irrationally angry).

“I know where he lives.” she says simply.

Both she and Neji look at her, puzzled. Noticing this, Sakura adds quickly “I work as his assistant.”

What. The. Hell? This was the Director she was talking about? No wonder she looked so freaked out when she saw him.

“Ah.” Neji says, accepting the explanation.

Tenten felt like her brain was about to explode.

“I can call for an Uber and get him home. How about Tenten stays with you until you can drive and you could take her home?” Sakura offers. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

“Sure.”

A man of many words, Hyuga Neji is.

And Tenten has never felt more grateful to her brilliant, beautiful roommate. She makes a mental note to buy her some dango tomorrow (and to grill her about Sasuke).

They shuffle out of the booth to let Sasuke out the booth corner he’s been half sleeping in when their Uber arrives a few minutes later.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get you home.” she says firmly. Sasuke grunts but lets her drape his arm on her shoulder and walk him out of the diner. Leaving Tenten alone with Neji with ten years of unanswered questions.

黑

With effort, Sakura manages to walk Sasuke to his building only to find that the front entrance requires a key card.

“Hey, where’s your keycard?”

“Hn. Hold on.” Sasuke grunts and she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

Someone’s in for a mega hangover tomorrow.

With great difficulty he manages to get his wallet out of the back of his pants and pull out a white card. They stumble into the lobby and he touches the card to the elevator scanner. More stumbling into the elevator and up they go.

Sakura’s mouth drops open when the elevator doors open up to reveal the penthouse apartment in the building. The penthouse boasted high ceilings and floor to ceiling windows gave way to a spectacular view of the city below. It was modestly furnished and had a lived in feel - a jacket thrown over a dining chair, yesterday’s paper on the coffee table, a wine decanter and a single wine glass on the kitchen island. An apartment befitting the Director of a large corporation.

“Impressed?”

She looks up to find Sasuke, her boss, smirking down at her.

“Come on. Where’s your room?” she tugs at his arm, ignoring his taunt and slipping out of her heels. She steadies him as he does the same with his own shoes.

Still leaning his weight against her, he directs her to his room.

It’s a lonely looking bedroom of charcoal greys and clean whites. A few picture frames on the bedside table.

She puts him on the king size bed and he doesn’t make to move, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

“Alright.” she says, putting on knee on the bed so she can help him take his jacket off. “Where are your pyjamas?”

“No.” he mumbles, not opening his eyes.

“I’m just going to bring them to you. Just tell me where they are.”

“No pyjamas.”

“I’m not going to judge you.” she pushes, “It’ll be better for you not to sleep in these clothes.”

“I. Don’t. Wear. Pyjamas.” he says, slurring.

Her face grows hot at the implication and she’s sure she’s about as red as her dress right now. She scrambles to get off the bed to put his jacket away somewhere when she feels his hands close on her wrist and she sits back down on the edge of the bed.

“I have to get home, Sasuke. I have something to do tomorrow morning.”

“Stay.” he says, finally opening his eyes and slowly sitting up. His thumb strokes the back of her hand softly, ever so gently. His face is inching closer to hers and she freezes, unsure of what to do. “Please.”

There’s a scared vulnerability in his voice as it cracks when he begs her to stay. It almost fees genuine and honest, but she isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol talking or the alcohol teasing out a side of Sasuke she hadn’t seen before.

Her mind is racing with incoherent thoughts. She feels drawn to him and she wants to lean in too.

His breath is on her lips now.

But he’s her boss so it would be inappropriate.

His nose touches hers.

She doesn’t want to be that intern. If he wasn’t her boss then she would gladly-

His lips softly brush hers and her thoughts come to a standstill and the only thing she knows that she likes this, it feels right. It feels good.

It’s also horribly wrong.

His hand is on her hip as he leans in to press his lips into a kiss that she can’t help but reciprocate.

“You’re drunk.” she says when they break apart. “I should go.”

She says it as softly as she can. She removes the hand that’s resting on her hip and gives it a quick squeeze before letting go, hoping that he can understand even through his inebriation.

Not like this. This is wrong. You’re drunk. You probably don’t even realise it’s me - your intern.

As much as she is attracted to him in a non-professional capacity, she has to leave. No man is worth jeopardising her career over - especially her boss of all people. She has to go. Even though his apartment is literally around the corner from Milk Grind where her class was due to start in 6 hours and counting. I have to get out of here. No excuses.

He sighs and flops backwards on the bed, his arm covering his eyes.

She puts his jacket in the laundry basket before she leaves without another word.

黑

Neji asks her how she got into bespoke suit tailoring.

“I remember you wanting to be a dancer.” he says, taking a sip out of his tea (English Breakfast, one sugar with milk). An odd choice for a Hyuga, considering their family business is based on the import and export of teas. However their speciality was Japanese teas. The choice of tea is undoubtedly an influence of his years abroad.

“Yeah but it was hard trying to find a position with any dance company. They told me that I wasn’t a good fit - quite literally. They said they’d reconsider if I lost weight and I tried but I didn’t like starving myself.” she says.

“You shouldn’t starve yourself. You look fine the way you are now.” Neji says, a hint of anger in his voice.

She’s taken aback by the sudden change in the tone of his voice and she’s more aware than ever that the dress she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination. She shudders at the thought that she may have come off more promiscuous than she intended and consequently having Neji dislike her.

“Are you cold?”

Before she can answer, Neji is shrugging off his jacket and standing up to walk over to her side of the booth to drape it over her shoulders.

“Thanks.” she says, smiling warmly. Time would not change Neji’s kindness and she begins to wonder what he had been up to since they stopped talking. It’s a question she hadn’t planned on asking, afraid of the answer.

“When did you come back Konoha?” she keeps the tone of her voice pleasant enough. She doesn’t want to come off as accusatory.

“I came back when I graduated.” he says, settling back into his side of the booth. “My mother wants me to help out with her chain of massage parlours.”

Tenten bursts out laughing.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“I know you didn’t mean it to make it sound like this but I’m imagining you giving massages to people.” she giggles.

The corner of Neji’s lips lift into a smile. “You’d be surprised to hear I’m actually pretty good. In all seriousness though, my mother is making a big push for me to manage her business more but Uncle Hiashi asked me to work for Hyuga Tea, so I’m working there for now.”

“For now? Are you planning on moving again?” she asks, a slight instinctual panic in her voice. The idea of him moving away again scares her. The idea of him moving back here for someone else scares her even more. She doesn’t dare ask him about that.

“No, I plan on staying Konoha long term. I’m working there just until Hanabi graduates and takes over.”

“Hanabi? Hinata’s sister?”

“Yeah. She didn’t want to be the next chair of Hyuga Tea so Hinata opened her tea house independently. To be honest, I think Hiashi is glad that Hinata wanted to give up her position for Hanabi. Hinata is too soft for large business. She’s doing well with her tea house, there’s no reason for her to give that up.”

Tenten nods. She remembers how the Hyuga sisters were polar opposites to each other. Hanabi was hot, unrelenting flame while Hinata was cool, calm water. Hanabi was sassy and unafraid of speaking her mind, even when it got her into trouble. Hinata was a mediator, concerned with the feelings of everyone. She’s glad to hear that Serenitea House is doing well.

“Shall we go? I think I’m good to drive now.” he says, leaving a crisp bill on the table.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’m getting a bit tired actually.” Tenten says, snapping out of her thoughts.

“You can sleep in the car if you want. I’m just parked over there.”

Neji’s car is a sleek black SUV. Being the gentleman he is, he opens the door for her and closes it for her once she’s in. The leather seats are luxuriously comfortable and it doesn’t take her long to fall into a light sleep, Neji’s jacket serving as a blanket.

Half an hour later she feels the car crawl to a stop and hears Neji pull up the handbrake, her face half buried in his jacket and she can smell his cologne - a clean citrus with deeper wood and subtle pepper notes. She knows she should wake up but she’s too comfortable here.

She waits for Neji to gently shake her awake but he doesn’t. Instead she feels his fingers lightly brush her cheek and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hears him sigh.

She stirs and sits up after a while when she realises he has no intention of waking her up.

“Sorry. You should have woken me up.” she chides him gently.

“I only just got here.” he says, smiling.

She folds up his jacket gently and  reaches for the door handle before turning to him again. “Thanks for driving me home and lending me your jacket. I’ll let you know when Lee is free for dinner.”

“Sure thing.”

He doesn’t drive away until she’s well inside her apartment building and Tenten touches her cheek, feeling the warm trace of his fingers still.

[forcri]

Another day, another bout of Madonna-bashing

Another day, another bout of Madonna-bashing CAMERON ADAMS August 22, 2018 12:10am

IN the same week we’ve hailed Madonna for turning 60 and never compromising in the face of constant criticism, we’re now watching her being crucified online for her tribute to Aretha Franklin.

A bit of context — Madonna paid respect to Franklin, who passed away last week (on Madonna’s birthday) — at the MTV VMA awards.

These are not the Grammys. They are an award show where the most attention goes to whoever is wearing the least clothes.

It’s the one best known for Kanye West rushing the stage — credibility and prestige is not what they’re about, rather pop culture and music videos.

Madonna dared to personalise her tribute and spoke passionately about how Aretha Franklin had inspired her — how the Queen of Soul had influenced the Queen of Pop, Aretha’s part in Madonna transforming herself, literally, from broke nobody with a dream into the most successful female artist of all time.

Yet the online backlash was instant and personal — Madonna was being self-indulgent, Madonna was making the tribute all about her, Madonna had D.I.S.R.E.S.P.E.C.T.E.D Aretha.

One wag even said she was getting revenge for Aretha’s death overshadowing her 60th birthday. Come on.

   Madonna probably just salty Aretha Franklin died on her birthday. #VMAs    — Travon Free (@Travon) August 21, 2018

She was not giving an eulogy at her funeral. It was an MTV show, not the Grammys: she had maybe two minutes at most. Two minutes is 20 minutes in the world of TV aimed at people with attention spans that would fit inside a thimble. And Aretha was hardly known as a music video artist.

Madonna personalised her short tribute, saying she sang (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman at an early audition, said that Franklin had helped “lead her to where she is today” and thanked her for “empowering all of us...Long live the Queen.”

It was far from the best speech of her career but also far from an insult. If she’d just read out facts and figures she’d be slammed for making a cold, Wiki tribute.

Madonna clarified herself on Instagram today — for all its flaws, social media is at least an instant medium to directly address these issues before they fester.

“Just to clarify,” she wrote. “I was asked to present video of the year by MTV! And then they asked me to share any anecdotes I had in my career connected to Aretha Franklin! I shared a part of my journey and thanked Aretha for inspiring me along the way. I did not intend to do a tribute to her! That would be impossible in two minutes with all the noise and tinsel of an award show. I could never do her justice in this context or environment.

Unfortunately most people have short attention spans, and are so quick to judge. I love Aretha! R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”

Apparently by sharing how Aretha Franklin inspired her, Madonna committed some kind of a sin. (Pic: Chris Pizzello/Invision/AP)

If she was asked to personalise her tribute, she followed the brief.

The main question — why did MTV, during their three hour show, only schedule time for Madonna’s short tribute and the playing of R.E.S.P.E.C.T over the closing credits?

Another issue was MTV choosing a white artist for their Franklin tribute — with Aretha being one of the most iconic African American artists of all time.

“Madonna is demonstrating a dynamic performance of peak white womanhood,” one Twitter user stated. “This was not an Aretha tribute but a monologue on how another iconic Black woman is being reduced to how she helped a white woman.”

MTV have not commented on their choices, but the channel has had a chequered history from the get-go. Even when they used to play music videos they initially refused to play Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean until his record company threatened to boycott giving them any videos at all. In the early 80s David Bowie called out one VJ live on camera about their preference of white artists.

The VMAs came under fire for not choosing an artist of colour to present a tribute to Aretha Franklin this week. (Pic: Chris Pizzello/Invision/AP)

Lenny Kravitz, Nicki Minaj, Cardi B, J-Lo were all in the house at the awards show if they wanted less controversial ‘optics’. We don’t know if they invited anyone else.

The thing is Madonna is click bait. And we’ve barely had a few days to let the inspirational pieces for her birthday register than we’re back to slating Madonna again. If it wasn’t for being too old or not conforming or looking her age it’s now for disrespecting a legend.

You don’t get a career in the fickle world of pop lasting 36 years by accident. And Madonna’s legacy has always been unity — looking beyond colour or sexuality and embracing how music brings people together and can open minds.

MTV, who’d secured Madonna to present the Best Music Video of the Year award (it went to Camila Cabello’s Havana, BTW), probably thought they’d struck gold getting the pop world’s most famous woman to speak about the impact Aretha Franklin had on her — it’s a fact that may have surprised many.

And when you look at the parade of Kardashian-wannabes (there’s a scary thought), reality TV exports, Disney stars and media-trained say-nothings invited, they probably secretly hoped Madonna would do something that made headlines. Mission accomplished.

One Madonna fan wrote on Twitter “Madonna said three sentences and became the most talked about moment of the night. Her power.”

Cameron Adams is the Herald Sun’s music writer.

[rowan-buzzard-whitethorn]

The Rowcan smut is here!

Well my friends. This has been a labor of love. I have literally never written a thing in my life, but I had this bug in my head that wouldn’t get out and I decided to give it a try as an early birthday present to @lu-cien (love of my life)

I tried to find the other people who wanted to be tagged in this? Maybe??@readinglikewildfire @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks @deziremyacotar@highladyofidris

Without further ado...

 Lorcan Salvaterre was willing to admit he had been distracted for the past several days.

 Serving his queen was always an honor, and he took great pleasure in being able to dole out the proper ‘incentive’ for the surrounding kingdoms and cities to provide favorable trade to Doranelle. He had been all too happy to use his god granted power to make sure that Maeve’s kingdom continued to prosper. Sometimes his missions led him to small villages, sometimes small kingdoms. Anyone that had the arrogance to believe that they could bargain for steeper export policies than their fathers before them. Either way, once the blood letting was done, he made sure to enjoy his time away by indulging in the following days long celebrations in the ruins.

 For the last several decades, when his queen had decided to send two of her finest soldiers to negotiate, he would find himself accompanied by the ever sulking Rowan Whitethorn. Lorcan had been eager for the prince to swear the blood oath all those years ago- he had skills Lorcan was eager to put to use. However, then over a century had passed and Rowan had been content spend his time sulking and reveling in his mourning. And he was fairly certain the male couldn’t stand him.

 And yet, over the last couple decades Lorcan had seen a change in the male. He remained disciplined as ever, but something had loosened in him. Or perhaps had been unleashed. Rather than retreating after battles to his chambers to brood, he began joining in the revelries that the citizens would hold in the days after. Not only that, but he began bedding females again. Usually whores or whatever swaying set of hips crossed his way. But this past week had been different. It was this last mission that had left a searing memory burned in Lorcan’s head.

 Once they had washed the remaining gore off, and emptied the former regent’s stores of wine, both Lorcan and Rowan had caught the eye of a rather bold female, intent on sharing both of them in her bed that night. When they followed her to an empty bedchamber, Lorcan found himself glancing over to Whitethorn, surprised that he hadn’t balked at the idea of them bedding a woman together. Lorcan couldn't even remember the girl’s name, but what he could remember was a particular moment at the climax of their evening.

 Lorcan was resting on his knees, between the girl's legs while she lay spread out on the large bed. He was enjoying the view of her tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. But what really completed the scene was the prince himself. Standing on the side of the bed, knees bent, thrusting into the girl’s mouth while her head hung off the edge of the bed.

 Lorcan found his eyes routinely straying to Rowan's shaft, disappearing past the girl's lips, and the ragged breathing that accompanied each moment that Rowan allowed his hips to still, to let his cock remain lodged deeply in the girl's throat while she moaned and gagged.

 After one of these instances, she finally pulled her head up to relinquish the head of Rowan's cock with a pop so she could use her hand instead, resting her jaw. She began pumping Rowan in long strokes.

 Then Lorcan heard her murmur, “I want to watch both of you” and Rowan’s head had snapped up in slight surprise, but Lorcan did not hesitate.

 He lunged for the male, grabbing him behind his head and dragging him towards his lips. Rowan tensed for the briefest moment before responding, his full lips pressing against Lorcan's own. When Lorcan dared to bite down on his lips, they had parted slightly to release a ragged groan. He seized the opportunity to slide his tongue into the prince's mouth, savoring the smooth glide and their lips moving together.

 Rowan groaned, breaking the kiss, and with a jolt, Lorcan felt warmth splatter across his skin. He looked down in time to see the woman coaxing the last of Rowan’s climax from him, cum spreading from the woman’s breasts all the way to Lorcan's torso thin ropes. The site alone was enough for him to pull out from between the blonde’s legs and give himself a few quick tugs to find his own release.

 Even though that had been almost a week ago now, Lorcan couldn't forget the ragged breaths, the way that the girl’s body had looked painted with their mingled streaks of white.

 During their journey back, Rowan had gone back to his normal, cold self, but Lorcan was still reeling at this new side the prince had revealed, and he found himself wondering in the days since if Whitethorn had ever been with a male. Lorcan had realized fairly early in his long life that fucking males was just as enjoyable as females. And made sure to enjoy both as often as he could. And while his moans during their kiss had made Lorcan believe he wouldn't turn down such an opportunity, he knew Rowan had been fairly young when he was mated. So what experience did he have? If any?

 All of these thoughts continued bouncing around in his head- during his trainings, a couple times while he had laid awake at night, seeking sleep. Even now, after the long run he just took. He was still slick with sweat, with his blood pounding in his ears as he makes his way down a large spiral stairwell. Carved into the stone beneath his Queen’s palace lay the vast and lavish baths, with saunas and swimming pools of various temperatures. Lorcan was looking forward to soaking his frame in the furnace heated waters of one of the chambers his queen had allotted for her personal guards’ personal use. After arriving and disrobing at the first set of entry doors, he padded his way past the colorful mosaics and arched pathways to the last of the smaller heated pools. When he turned the corner, he was only mildly surprised to find that he was not alone.

 Of course he was here. Of fucking course he was. As if his own distracting thoughts had summoned him, Lorcan stood stock still for several seconds as he took in the lounging frame of Rowan Whitethorn in the recessed tub. He was seated on the submerged step, with his elbows braced against the stone ledge. His head tilted back, eyes closed. Lorcan let his eyes drift lower and found that Rowan’s muscled chest and arms were gleaming in the calming lantern light of the caverned room. A bottle of massage oil sat behind him, and the room had the sharp scent of eucalyptus. Whitethorns shoulder must giving him trouble.

 Lorcan made his way further into the chamber, as Rowan opened one lazy eye to peer at him. Lorcan didn't miss the slight tension that increased in the males frame at the sight of him. Still, he spoke with an air of utter relaxation.

 ���In case you haven't noticed, this room is taken”. The bite to his words was utterly lost when Lorcan notices the slightest dip of the prince's eyes below his pelvis before strictly closing them again, resuming his relaxed pose. An idea was forming in the back of Lorcan’s mind.

He merely smirked. “Luckily for you, you now have me for company ”

 Rowan didn’t respond as he stepped down into the heated waters, and positioned himself on the bench seat opposite him. After a few seconds Whitethorn sits up, bringing his arms down into the water and looking Lorcan in the eyes. Lorcan breaks the silence first.

“How’s that shoulder? You should be using the peppermint oil”

“It’s fine. And I just prefer the scent.” A pause. “How was your report to the queen?”

 Lorcan resisted tensing. His Queen had summoned him to her bedchamber to give all the details on their latest mission, and he hadn’t understood why. But she had barely looked at him during the report and when he was done, she placed her hand on his cheek, leaning in with a slight smile. Very well. Now be a good boy and send in Fenrys.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

 Rowan’s green eyes remained trained on him. “Will you ever learn to train your expressions? If I can see all your thoughts then Maeve certainly can. It doesn’t serve you.”

“This coming from a male with his emotions literally written on his face?”

 Rowan let out a low snarl and Lorcan dropped it. Besides, that idea of his was beginning to shape and he couldn’t piss off the prince too quickly. He let their silence linger for a long moment

“We may need to head east again once the power shift is complete.” Rowan nodded. “And I’m sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves again while we’re there.” He smirks. “Since I know now how much you enjoy being entertained.”

 Rowan gives him a warning look but Lorcan stands up and walks through the waist high water over to the other male. He bends slightly into Rowan’s personal space to pick up the bottle of oil, tipping it to allow several drops to fall into his palm. After setting it back down, he begins spreading the smooth oil into his chest, pressing into the sore areas at the top of his pectorals. From this close a distance, Lorcan can’t miss the way Rowan's eyes track his hands’ progress over his skin. He smirked to himself. The prince made it almost too easy.

 Holding his gaze, he said “Then again, unlike you, I don’t need a barrel of wine allow myself the benefit of giving in to a good distraction. I allow my body to take what it wants, when it wants.”

 Rowan looked up at him, unamused. “I’m aware. It shows in your technique. Undisciplined. Too loose.”

 Lorcan saw his opportunity and seized it. He bends, leaning over to place both hands on either side of the prince, enjoying the way his jaw tightened with the sudden lack of air between them. Lorcan makes sure to keep his voice even and low. “Just as your technique shows your own weakness of being too disciplined. Like a bowstring wound too tight. Don’t you wonder what might happen if you just let go? ”

 Rowan stands up, forcing Lorcan to remove one braced hand as the prince makes a fluid movement out of the water, sloshing a small wave of water over the edge with him. Lorcan had expected this kind of reaction, and uses his remaining braced palm to vault himself out of the pool. He catches Whitethorn in two long strides and grabs him by the elbow.

“Easy there, prince”, he says in a low voice. “You wouldn’t people thinking you kept that silver spoon up your ass”

 Rowan spins them and pushes Lorcan against the wall. “Have you even considered the possibility that you are not the type of distraction I’m looking for?”

 Lorcan lets out a rough laugh. “I’m not so sure. Are you certain you would have come so fast from that girl’s hand on your cock if it weren’t for my tongue in your mouth?”

 Something flares in Rowan’s eyes and Lorcan presses his advantage. He uses Rowan’s moment of hesitation to flip their positions, his hands braced on the male’s shoulders. Leaning in close enough to share breath. “Let’s see if I can remind you.”

 Their lips crash together, their teeth bumping hard in a bruising kiss. To Lorcan’s great satisfaction, Rowan responds immediately and just as forcefully, pressing his tongue against his own, against the roof of his mouth. Lorcan felt every his every instinct come alive when he heard that same sound come out of Rowan's throat. That sound that he’d made a week ago, somewhere between a moan and a growl. Lorcan’s hands move down to Rowan’s sides, pressing in closer. One of Whitethorn’s hands slide up and around Lorcan's head, tangling in his hair, while the other pulled at his lower back, colliding their damp bodies against one another.

 Lorcan feels Rowan's cock, half hard, pressing against his belly. He knows that any moment, the prince’s better judgement might have him pulling away, retreating back. So he swiftly lowers his hand across the bunched muscles of Rowan’s lower belly, and roughly cups Rowan's manhood, giving him a slight squeeze. He releases a quick burst of air, his grip tightening on his scalp.

 Lorcan dares to lean in and whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to see how tightly wound you actually are”

“Do you speak in anything but innuendo?”

 Lorcan merely chuckles. He’s had enough talking. Rowan had begun making those noises again, noises that drove him wild, and he wanted to hear more. He wanted to break past the veneer of ‘honorable male’ the prince carried around and get him to submit to his baser instincts. Those instincts that only spoke of need and selfish impulse. So he started moving down Rowan’s body, dragging his mouth down his chest, briefly tugging on one nipple with his teeth, and trailing his tongue down below his belly button, before lowering himself to his knees. His hand had set up a slow, luxurious rhythm, and he uses it to guided that hard cock to his mouth.

 He glances up towards Rowan's face. His expression still somewhat uncertain, but his lips are parted, his breaths picking up in speed, his green eyes taking on a feral intensity. Maintaining that eye contact, Lorcan closes that tiny space between them to press his lips and tongue to the reddened head of Rowan's cock. He sucks his cheeks in, increasing the suction and pulling the engorged head past his lips, so he could fully taste him, his precum giving off a slightly salty taste. Rowans eyelids droop slightly, entering that sweet haze Lorcan knows only too well.

 After only a few seconds of letting his tongue swirl around the tip of Rowan's cock, he opens his mouth wider, pulling back his lips to dive over a greater portion of his shaft, engulfing him, then letting his lips drag a strong pull back over the length of his shaft. At that, finally, he hears Rowan release a deep, unrestrained groan that seems pulled from deep inside him, dragged out over the length of an exhale. Rowan places a hand on Lorcan’s shoulder, squeezing, silently urging him to repeat the action, while he his other hand braces against the cool stone wall at his back.

 Lorcan devotes himself to his task, easily taking the prince's cock in all the way to the base, having become well accustomed long ago to relaxing his jaw and throat to accept males full shaft down his throat, while still letting those small muscles contract involuntarily at the intrusion, a sensation that makes Rowan’s groans rises slightly in pitch with each pass. Those godsdamned sounds. Lorcan uses his free hand to grip himself, giving his own hard cock a set of swift pulls. Suddenly Rowan bends, hands gripping Lorcan under the arms to lift him slightly off his knees, only to abruptly spin him around, shoving him again to his knees, only this time facing away from Rowan, with his hands braced on the tiles below him.

 He bends over, one hand curled around Lorcan neck. Rowan’s voice indeed takes on that unleashed tone Lorcan had been looking for. He whispers furiously in his ear, his lips grazing the round edge, “Playtime’s over. My turn.”

 His lips move down Lorcan’s spine, stopping occasionally to take a chunk of skin and bite down, making Lorcan hiss. He drags them all the way to Lorcan’s ass, repositioning himself to brace both hands on his cheeks to spread them, making his tongue’s final destination that puckered entrance, swirling and probing with his tongue while still releasing harsh exhales through his nose.

 Lorcan groans, at last allowing himself a moment of undiluted bliss. He opens his eyes for a moment, gritting out, “well, well, prince, I didn't think you actually had it in you”

 Rowan lifts his head. “Just because I didn’t grow up as a bastard fucking my way up each alley doesn't mean I don’t know how to make you scream.”

 Lorcan had half a mind to turn around and pummel Whitethorn for his arrogance, but at that moment he pressed a hand to the center of Lorcan’s back, bending him at a more severe angle. “Hold still, will you.” 

 Rowan stretched, bending to the side, over to the edge of the pool, swiping for the glass bottle still perched there. Lorcan felt his breath hitch, knowing what would come next. Rowan tipped the bottle over, allowing the oil a quick succession of drip drip drips down his seam that he could feel gliding all the way to his sack, giving him an overwhelming tingling sensation that made his cock twitch.

 Rowan dragged his thumb over the path of oil, spreading it around his entrance. Then he used his first finger to press lightly against Lorcan’s ass. He felt his muscles clench involuntarily before relaxing again, the tip of Rowan's finger pushing in at that exact moment. It turns out the prince did know what he was doing. He glided his finger in and out, deeper with each pass, until he added another finger, and another. Lorcan was moaning openly now, lost in the eddy of sensation deep in his gut, rocking his hips back slightly to take full advantage of the rhythm Rowan had set. Each sliding press of Rowan’s crooked fingers met that spot just inside him, and Lorcan didn't even realize his right hand had raised off the floor to stroke himself before Rowan had batted it away.

“I don't need your help” he growled, and Lorcan let out another groan.

 The words had somehow brought the reality of the situation into startling focus. He was bent double for a man whom, while he outranked him in birthright, he had authority to command in battle. When he had walked into this chamber and made this brash decision to provoke the prince, to see what he would do, he had not imagined that he would find himself on the receiving end. He was brought back to the present when he could sense that Rowan was shifting again, bringing his knees in between Lorcan’s own, forcing him to spread his legs a little wider. Then he felt Rowan remove his fingers at last, only to glide them down his balls, gathering the oil that had dribbled there.

 Lorcan heard the unmistakable sounds of Rowan stroking his cock in a few hurried tugs, slicking his shaft before pressing his head against Lorcan’s ass. With one hand spreading his cheeks again, Rowan slowly slid in, and they both released a low groan of satisfaction. Once he was in, Rowan removed his hand, letting the rest of him slide in, then resting for an agonizingly long moment, letting Lorcan adjust. Lorcan felt that stretch, the fullness that he hadn't felt in some time. He was ready to feel that weight move inside him.

“Rowan-”, he snarled through parted lips, but before he could say more, the prince pulled back, inching out of him before slamming home once more.

 Rowan placed his hands on Lorcan’s hips, and quickly set a brutal pace, simultaneously thrusting his hips forward while pulling Lorcan's ass backwards toward him. Each thrust made a resounding smack, echoing off the stone walls. He could feel Rowan's balls smack into him each time, only heightening the rising roar in his blood. Before Lorcan could take much more, Rowan bent over, pulling him up so that their chests were pressed together, using one arm to hook around both of Lorcan’s elbows, immobilizing him.

 Lorcan looked down to watch his cock bobbing, dripping precum, as Rowan renewed his fast pace, only to see Rowan finally using that other hand to still it; wrapping his fingers around his shaft to begin pumping. Lorcan’s head fell back, slave to the twin sensations dragging him under, one from the pressure deep inside him and the other from the unforgiving grip of the prince’s fist around his cock.

 Rowan’s mouth was back at his ear. “I want you to fucking come for me” those words alone made Lorcan's breathing increase, his panting ratcheting up to new heights. Rowan increased the pace of his hand, his thrusts maintaining that quick and brutal rhythm. It was enough.

 Lorcan felt his balls drawing up, and with a shout, his body gave way to wave after wave of bliss. The muscles of his ass contracting rhythmically around that fullness inside him. He could hear Rowan’s groans increase in intensity until he too let out a rough low snarl and Lorcan could feel each blast of his release inside him.

 Rowan released the arm that was holding Lorcan up and he feel back down to hands and knees, Whitethorn leaning over him. He slowly pulled out and sank back on his heels. When Lorcan pivoted to face the prince he saw that he had his eyes shut, running his hands over his face and hair. After a moment of regaining control over their breathing, they both stood up.

 Lorcan felt a mischievous grin tugging at his lips, tilting his head to one side. “next time you need a distraction prince, it will be my turn. And I am going to fuck the shit out of you”.

 Without another word, Rowan shoved Lorcan back into the pool and walked out through the arched doorway.

[nemesis-nexus]

A few more things that I need to get off my chest regarding the First Nation, the BLATANT disregard of Treaty Rights across the board and the abysmal treatment of the people at the hands of the United States government: Not only are you paying for it, but you will NEVER be compensated for any of the services your tax dollars are covering EVER! What you have been told about there being permanent jobs created between the dapl and KeystoneXL pipelines is a lie! the fact of the matter is there will be no more than between 15 and 35 permanent jobs! Everybody's bitching and moaning about how they want to end the dependency on foreign oil, the problem is that the dapl will not do that in fact the dapl will not benefit the United States in any way shape or form! The truth is that it's being transported across states where it will be refined and exported overseas - why do you think countries such as Japan have such a vested interest in it? The truth is that Energy Transfer Partners has lied about everything since the beginning! They paid off ex-Governor Jack Dalrymple so that he would call in the National Guard to defend the pipeline!! Since when does the National Guard protect private oil companies instead of THE NATION?! Then every time violence erupted Sheriff Kyle Kirchmeier ran as fast as he could to the nearest microphone and Podium and LIED ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED! There is a reason why there has been a TOTAL MEDIA BLACKOUT since the beginning of this conflict and that is because they don't want you to see what's really happening over there because if you see what's really happening over there they can't lie to you about it later!!! This is also the reason why they have gone after independent journalist such as Jon Ziegler who they called out before shooting him in the hand!!! What you may have heard about weapons in any of the camps is a complete lie, think about it logically, why would they suffer all the abuse that they did to the point of almost being killed and NOT fight back if they allegedly had all kinds of guns and other weapons? What you have heard about the trash on the ground is also a lie, the campsites WERE NOT "deliberately trashed" what ACTUALLY happened was the blizzards - as they have a tendency to do in the winter - set in very quickly and did not give people enough time to move out all their belongings! That coupled with EXTREMELY HIGH WINDS that were blowing everything, everywhere made things literally impossible to clean up at the time so yes there was a mess to clean up and no one is denying that! However as soon as the snow started to melt that is exactly what they did, they cleaned up about 85% of it and they knew they were going to need more time which is why they asked the Army Corps of Engineers to extend the deadline so they could finish the job! The Army Corps of Engineers however refused to grant them more time so they were unable to finish what they started, we know that they were refused an extension for the very specific reason of utilizing the trash on the ground as propaganda to further smear the Water Protectors and as expected all the gullible, ignorant people who believe whatever they're told bought it hook, line and sinker! What you may have heard about human feces all over the place including in the river is also complete and utter bullshit! There were composting toilets on the scene at all times, what they are is toilets that are designed to collect waste and when they are full the contents are bagged up and shipped out by truck. The contents Ultimately used as fertilizer, the same as horse manure! What gets me regarding the trash is that people are so hateful and callous that they are implying that they are more concerned about trash on the ground than they are about the multitude of Human Rights, Constitutional Rghts and Civil Rights violations that have been levelled against EVERYONE fighting for the Earth and Water in the last year - going so far as to say that Sophia Wilansky blew her own arm off!!! They are literally more concerned about trash on the ground then they are about human life and that is a level of depravity I hope no one I know ever lowers themselves to!! Does anybody ever wonder why when we're taught American History in school, no matter what grade, that the ONLY time we're EVER told anything about the First Nation is when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock and in regards to Thanksgiving, but we're rarely if ever told ANYTHING else? We have Black History Month where all kinds of information is made available to learn about Black pioneers and key figures of Black History, we also have TV channels (specifically BET) that show movies featuring prominent black actors and actresses and the work of talented directors producers so forth and on... We also have Native Heritage Month and yet where is the information readily available to learn about any Tribe of the First Nation? Where are the school plays that demonstrate real Native History? Where are the book reports that put front-and-center all the people who fought for Indigenous Rights since the beginning? Where is the TV channel that specifically displays the work of prominent Indigenous actors and actresses or of talented producers directors and such? Why is it whenever we talk about racism we automatically think Black White Latino Asian but very VERY rarely IF EVER do we mention the Indigenous who have had it a HELL of a lot worse than ALL of us COMBINED? I will tell you why; because we have ALL been mentally conditioned to not even acknowledge the FIRST NATION let alone the Indigenous PEOPLE! We know it is true for the aforementioned reasons that they are never discussed outside of Thanksgiving and Plymouth Rock, their Heritage month goes by with no general recognition whatsoever of historic Indigenous figures such as Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, Geronimo or even Sitting Bull, in fact the closest we came to acknowledging the Indigenous was when the Sacagawea dollar was introduced and people lost their fucking minds over it!!!! The fact that the Indigenous at Standing Rock as well as all those who stood in solidarity alongside them have been Domestically Terrorized the last year by the very people who are supposed to protect them, not a private company performing an illegal project and people are actually more concerned about trash on the ground than the fact that lives were almost taken and even more have been violated is beyond reprehensible and inhumane to say the least!!! This war that has been leveled against the First Nation for centuries did not start at Standing Rock but what has happened at Standing Rock for the last year is but a small example as to the kind of dehumanizing, racist, hateful and dismissive treatment the Indigenous people have been regarded with since the Inception of this country! To this day they continue to have their land stolen and their children forcibly removed as well as their women abducted and raped, oftentimes sold into sexual slavery!! I can guarantee if ANY other group of people was treated the same way that the Indigenous people are treated NOT ONLY would the courts be FLOODED with lawsuits of Racial Profiling, Racial Discrimination and a PLETHORA of hate crimes to beat the band, but it would be all over the news and EVERYBODY would be bitching about how WRONG it is, but when the Indigenous are treated this way all those Social Justice Warriors can't be bothered!!! Since people seem content to continue to bring up the trash on the ground I will remind them of what is important - That just because some people were unable to gather up their belongings and transport them out when they left IS NOT A CRIME and is certainly NOTHING COMPARED TO: Having crop dusters spraying poison directly on you, your family, your animals and your land Having your children assaulted with guard dogs Having your pregnant wife assaulted with pepper spray to the face Having your sacred holy items stolen and smashed then thrown in the mud and garbage Having your Cemetery bulldozed into nonexistence Being arrested without your Miranda Warnings or charges being read beforehand Being illegally strip-searched and then shoved in a dog cage for hours on end Being accused of firing a gun and trying to kill a police officer when their own words dictate that such a scenario was physically impossible, dropping the local charges because they knew they had nothing to base them on and then pursuing bogus federal charges #FREEREDFAWN #FREELEONARDPELTIER Being attacked indiscriminately and viciously with: LRADS Tear Gas Rubber Bullets Concussion Grenades Sound Cannons Beanbag Rounds Fire Extinguisher Size Mace Water Cannons in 26 Degree Weather Verbal assaults issued on Radio Transmissions that DEMAND the men come out and fight OR THE WOMEN WILL BE RAPED IN CAMP - YES THERE IS AUDIO AND VIDEO EVIDENCE OF THESE THREATS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT!!! On the night of November 20th, a bunch of people went to the Backwater Bridge to clear the two burned-out vehicles that were blocking it so as to allow vehicles including emergency vehicles passage. Upon securing one of the trucks to the rig and starting to pull it away they started getting fired upon from the back - yeah that's right THEY WERE SHOT IN THE BACK! I thought only COWARDS shot people in the BACK??!! Then when they tried to approach the barrier to attempt to speak with the militarized police and National Guard to try to explain what they were doing, they were fired upon with more rubber bullets, concussion grenades, teargas and beanbag rounds! Some of their Munitions hit the ground and ignited yet of course they did not accept responsibility for that instead passing the buck and blaming the Water Protectors accusing them of starting fires! The fact of the matter is and again we have the video to prove it, that the ONLY fire that was in fact started by the Water Protectors was done so AFTER they started hosing everyone down with a water cannon in 26 degree weather! It was an emergency fire that was meant to keep them from succumbing to hypothermia! So yeah the next time somebody tries to give you shit about the trash on the ground, just remind them of EVERYTHING ELSE THAT'S HIT THE GROUND IN THE LAST YEAR and ask them why their priorities are so screwed up that they place more value on a gum wrapper than on a human life!! The most recent and despicable crime committed by the Domestic Terrorists is the forced removal of people from The Oceti Sakowin and Rosebud Camps where dwellings were desecrated and torn apart for NO OTHER REASON than they could! This is why the structures on the OS amp were burned, because they did not want them desecrated as well but also because it is customary for them to burn down semipermanent structures before moving on. Several arrests were made including military veterans and the grandmother they were protecting! Eric Poemz was tackled and slammed to the ground resulting in his hip being dislocated and what did the domestic terrorists do? One of them took a picture with him screaming in agony then laughed about it and left! Another one told him that the water protectors spent the last 6 months disrespecting THEM and THE STATE!!! And what makes all of this that much worse is that what I just said is not everything that happened ONLY SOME of the MORE extreme examples!! Now Trump wants to introduce legislation that makes protesting of any kind a felony punishable by up to 15 years in prison? This bill will take any Act of protest and corrupt it into and act of aggression where by anyone participating will be arrested for "Inciting A Riot" the most messed up thing about it is that you don't even have to be doing anything to be arrested and accused of it, just ask Chase Iron Eyes!!! The fact is that racism is still rampant in this country and as bad as Black, White, Asian and Latino think they have it NO ONE has it as bad as the Indigenous! It is time that we all reread our history, learn the facts versus the bullshit and work together with our Indigenous brothers and sisters for the betterment of OUR present and the security of OUR future!! We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER! #FREEREDFAWN #FREELEONARDPELTIER #NODAPL #WESTAND #MNIWICONI #WATERISLIFE #OCETISAKOWIN #PROTECTTHESACRED #PROTECTORSNOTPROTESTERS #RESPECTEXISTENCEOREXPECTRESISTANCE #NOSABALPIPELINE #KEEPITINTHEGROUND #NOKEYSTONEXLPIPELINE #NOTRANSPECOSPIPELINE

[agameforgoodchristians]

A lukewarm, wretched, pitiable, poverty-stricken, blind, and naked loser. (Revelation 3:17)

tl:dr = You should Learn what ‘LUKEWARM’ MEANS AND then Stop being so God-damned ‘lukewarm.’ also,why aren’t you in the streets right now?

This card comes from John of Patmos’ message in the Book of Revelation to the church located in Laodicea. It is the last church addressed of the seven churches of Asia Minor that appear in Revelation 2-3. From the start, let us be clear that we are not going to delve into the end-times, conspiracy theories over these letters. We know they exist. We were weened on them as children. We grew up and read a book or two, including the Bible.

What is important of note at this juncture is that is the only one of the seven churches for which nothing good is said. This is the “lukewarm” church in danger of being spit out of God’s mouth (Rev 3:15-16). But more on that later. Right now we want to show the connection to a figure important to the story of this church: a man named Archippus.

Archippus Who?

While Church tradition names him as possibly one of the 70 disciples Jesus sent out in Luke 10:1-16, Archippus is only mentioned twice in the Bible. At the beginning of Philemon (1:2) he gets a typical, “say ‘h'i’ to that guy” from Paul, but in Colossians 4:15-16, Paul gets a little more personal writing:

Give my greetings to the brothers and sisters in Laodicea, and to Nympha and the church in her house. And when this letter has been read among you, have it read also in the church of the Laodiceans; and see that you read also the letter from Laodicea.

Then in vs 17 he drops:

And say to Archippus, “See that you complete the task that you have received in the Lord.”

Imagine being Archippus at this moment. A letter from the great apostle Paul is being read among the congregation. You hear your name mentioned. Your head pops up, chest puff out for a second, and then you hear everyone hear Paul tell you to suck less and do the work you’ve been given to do (an admonishment no one else ever got in any of the Pauline letters).

Translations and interpretations of what Paul meant abound. We are a bit partial to how Wuest formulated it: “be ever keeping a watchful eye upon the ministry which you received in the Lord, that you discharge it fully.” The Ye Olde King James Version of the Bible (KJV) employs the phrase “take heed.” We like it, so we’ll be using it as a shorthand from here on out.

At its core, the Greek for “take heed” means to literally or metaphorically turn towards something, and to have intimate empirical knowledge of something because of use; to understand, weigh maturely, and consider in a very specific way. This is born out in its usage in other New Testament Scripture (e.g. Mt 5:28 & Eph. 5:15-21). Thus, Paul is calling to Archippus’ specific attention to complete some task, and Paul has publicly charged the community to push him toward its completion. Cool, but what does this have to do with our card from the Book of Revelation?

According to Tradition, Archippus was the first bishop of Laodicea. He helped start the church there and, by varying accounts, was later martyred during a pagan feast in Colossae where, along with Philemon and Apphia, their home was raided, they were captured, tortured, whipped, stoned, and then stabbed to death by children holding nails. It’s assumed that taking up the call to ministry was what Paul was telling Archippus to do. And even though it had dire consequences, he sacrificed to do the will of God.

So how did his church end up so “lukewarm” and God-damned (not a swear: we mean that literary)?

The Comfort of Laodicea

Laodicea (in modern Turkey) was initially a church-plant from the Christian community in Colossae. The Christians who lived in Laodicea resided in the center of one of the great economic powerhouses in the Roman empire.

Laodicea was a regional hub. The most important thoroughfare for trade and culture of the day—the road running east to west from Ephesus to Syria—ran through Laodicea. Another less-important, but pretty snazzy road also ran from north to south through the city. Laodicea was also an important clothing manufacturing center for the region. Not only did they cultivate and breed a strain of sheep whose wool was highly sought, they were also able to mass produce relatively inexpensive clothing and widely distribute it (they were Versace and Wal-Mart at the same). In addition, Laodicea was an academic and medical center for the region, boasting a prestigious medical school, as well as the production and sale of Phygarian Powder, an eye salve which was exported around the Greek world, and heralded by the likes of Galen and Aristotle.

As a result of these factors and others, Laodicea was the banking and financial center of the region, and one of the wealthiest cities in the ancient world. So much so, that emperors were known to cash their checks there. An anecdote illustrates the level of Laodicean wealth: In 61 CE, an earthquake struck the region devastating everything. As a part of the Roman Empire, the Laodiceans were entitled to a government bail-out to help them rebuild this important cog in the economic machinery. The people of Laodicea did not want to be seen as beholden to the central Roman government. They were so rich, and so proud, that they pooled their resources and rebuilt without any assistance, creating a city more fabulous than it was before.

In short, the Christian community living in Laodicea were in very secure and comfortable place. But just like Archippus, they are the only church to receive an admonishment from John of Patmos, with nothing good being said about them (the others that got crapped on at least got a small pat on the back first). The ironic tragedy: the very things that they took pride in are the things that John says are holding them back from doing the work they were given to do.

A Message to the “Lukewarm” Church

“And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the origin of God’s creation:

I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth.

For you say, ‘I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing.’ You do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. Therefore I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire so that you may be rich; and white robes to clothe you and to keep the shame of your nakedness from being seen; and salve to anoint your eyes so that you may see.

I reprove and discipline those whom I love. Be earnest, therefore, and repent.”

~ Revelation 3:14-19

Some Sunday School lessons (and Sunday morning sermons) of this story, import a “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” mentality: Some things are too hot, some things are too cold, but the middle is juuuussssst riiiiiight! Apparently these people can’t read (but they teach our young and our adults. Cool. Cool. Cool.) Just as incorrect, some teach that ON FIRE CHRISTIANS are “good” and COLD-HEARTED CHRISTIANS are bad, again showing a lack of reading comprehension (but a good use of metaphoric thinking, so points for that). However, they fail to see that the metaphors could be changed: “hot” Christians are “backsliders” and “apostates” on their way to HELL! “Cold” Christians will be “chilling” in the clouds above with the Father. Whatever. Our metaphor doesn’t have to work because our point is that this line of thinking completely ignores both the biblical text and the geographic realities that they are based on. In addition to the other historical features mentioned above,

an aqueduct that ran from a hot spring in Hierapolis, cut through Laodicea on the way to Colossae.

This is the source of the famous, though often misunderstood/misinterpreted passage. The hot spring at Hierapolis was healing; the cold waters at Colossae were refreshing. Both are good. Good. Not one good, the other bad. Both are good. However, The lukewarm sludge at Laodicea was pretty damn useless.

Which makes sense:

A critical writer can be effective in communicating her message if she is very hot or very cold to her subject—loves it or hates it—, but not in the middle. Some strong emotion must be felt or it is just a bland restatement of dry facts.

Meat in the freezer, good and safe. Meat, appropriately browned and finished off in the oven, good and safe. Meat, allowed to sit on your counter all day and then snacked on, God bless.

While some people love hot coffee, others iced coffee, but only a freaking monster loves a cup of tepid, room temperature, congealed, decaffeinated garbage. There is a revolting quality to those who are in this position, hence the illustration of being “spit out of the mouth.”

But how does a church community end up in this position? How does an individual? “Because you say I am rich, need nothing . . . blind, poor, wretched, naked, worthy of pity” (vs 17). John of Patmos takes direct aim at the things the city of Laodicea was best known for, the things that they took the most pride, security and comfort in. They are so far from the path that they are pitied by God, and admonished to find true wealth, clothing, and vision (vs 18). They are further admonished to “be earnest and repent,” to take heed, and change, before it is too late (vs 19).

And Here We Are

We write our Card Talks in a (relatively) timeless manner. Meaning, years from now, other than a few topical touchstones and pop culture references, the message should be unambiguous and clear without relying on contemporary tropes, people, events, or issues. At times we purposefully break this rule and write about things completely wrapped up in where we are. Right now we hope that this post is an example of that: a post that will make no sense in the future.

This Card Talk is being written in the midst of racial unrest in the United States. In recent days:

Ahmaud Arbery, an unarmed Black man, was chased down by two white men and shot to death for jogging through the neighborhood. The prosecuting attorneys refused to act until after the video of the murder was released to the public.

Breonna Taylor, an unarmed Black woman, was murdered in her home, in her own bed, when police executed a no-knock warrant in the middle of the night, without announcing themselves. They then arrested her boyfriend for “attempted murder” for defending them against the intruders. It is doubtful that the officers will face any criminal charges.

Christian Cooper, an unarmed Black man, survived a white woman’s attempt to weaponize the police to intimidate or murder him. He had asked her to leash her dog in a public park. She called the police, screaming in increasing hysterics, saying she was being attacked, while Christian recorded her lies from a safe distance.

George Floyd, an unarmed Black man, was crushed to death by four police officers—two kneeling on his back, one on his throat, and one keeping onlookers at bay. After crying out for help, saying he couldn’t breathe, that he was dying, he gave up the ghost. The police continued applying pressure on his dead body for a while after. They had pulled him out of his car for allegedly using a counterfeit $20 bill at a store nearby.

We were going to include a list of the many, many, many others. But figured your eyes would just gloss over them. Just like they glossed over the descriptions we gave above, because you “already know” the stories.

But we hope future Bible nerds and lay people reading this post will look on these descriptions in shock and disgust. Not just at the horrors described, but at the very notion that such atrocities were common place. We hope that they will look at these events the was we (should) look at the (slightly) less government-sanctioned lynchings from only a few decades ago (“officially” ending in 1968). We hope this will be the case. But we have our doubts.

Such a change would require the Church in the United States to actually “take heed” to the ministry given by God to love and care for all of God’s children. The same Church who still (problematically) sings

“…red and yellow, black and white, they’re ALL precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

The same Church which seems happier, more content, when those red, yellow, and black children live in other countries which are not so “rich…prospered, and [in] need [of] nothing” as ours is. he Church, which will do mission-trips to ever corner of the world to spread clean water, the Word, or to simply do it for the ‘gram, seems to forget the people with similar skin tones here.

When will the Church in the United States realize how wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked we are when we deny the dignity of our sisters and brothers?

Look at this scene:

We don't know the full context of this photo. We don't know the people at the table or in the background. They could be you. And that's the point.

This image shows the division

in the Church right now:

On one side, in the streets, you see a racially and socioeconomically diverse group, taking action against injustice.

On the other, at the table, a homogeneous group wondering what all the fuss is about, desperately wanting not to be bothered, and hoping none of this will impact their plans. And, honestly, it makes us fucking sick.

Use your Sunday School training: where would Moses be, at the table or in the streets? What about David and Deborah? Jeremiah and Ezekiel’s crazy ass? John the Baptist, Peter, Paul, Archippus? Jesus?

And let’s be fair to the table sitters: maybe he’s scratching his head because he is genuinely confused or has been living under a rock. Maybe red hat is sympathetic to their cause, but was raised not to make too much noise, so she’s “with them in spirit.” Maybe green shirt is wanting to get up and join them, but is afraid of what arms-folding and giggling will think and say. We can’t know what is in everyone’s head. But we can make a simple request:

Get up from the damn table, OR spit the bread and wine from ouT OF YOUR mouth;

stop pretending you break bread with Jesus or his people.

Stop posting more about “looting” and “rioting” than the murders that presaged them. Stop pretending like you give a damn about the corporate interest of Target or the small business that have been destroyed when you didn’t comment on the families burying actual human beings. Stop defending, once again, a president or pundit because…you know what, screw your reasons. Just stop doing it: you make all of us look bad.

Wipe the excuses and lies from your eyes. Trust less in the comfort and security of your skin (yes, talking to you white people). Be the damn Church. “Take heed” of the ministry we have been given.

Or never open your mouth again in moral outrage ever again.

World without end.

[theconservativebrief]

Asked point-blank by a Reuters journalist, “Do you hold Russia at all accountable for anything in particular” that has contributed to the decline in the US-Russia bilateral relationship, President Trump delivered the defining answer of his foreign policy: He does not.

Having offered earlier in the week scathing, specific indictments of the European Union’s immigration policy, of the FBI’s investigation of the 2016 election, of the United Kingdom’s efforts to negotiate a “soft” version of Brexit, and of Germany’s energy infrastructure policies, Trump had no specific criticisms of Vladimir Putin’s domestic or international policies.

He did not object to Putin’s domestic repression, to Russia’s 2008 effort to dismember the former Soviet republic of Georgia, to Russian-backed forces shooting down Malaysia Airlines Flight MH-17 and killing hundreds of civilians, to Russia’s invasion of Crimea or subsequent invasion of Eastern Ukraine, to Russia’s apparent use of a deadly nerve agent in the UK, or (of course) to the computer hacking associated with the 2016 election.

Trump’s staff keeps trying to cover for him, by leaking to the press various versions of a story in which Trump has basically normal policy views but happens to not be fired up about the election hacking, but Trump’s words say otherwise. It’s true, of course, that he’s not bothered by Russians committing crimes to help him win the election. But he’s also not bothered by anything Putin does at all, which is why he was worth helping in the first place.

via @jonathanvswan – President Trump no longer doubts the basic intelligence assessment that Russia interfered in the 2016 election — he just seems incapable of taking it seriously, and tells staff that is simply what nations do. https://t.co/0pAIIMUcGp

— Jim VandeHei (@JimVandeHei) July 15, 2018

That’s unusual, it’s troubling, and it’s worth taking seriously.

But most of all, it’s worth taking Trump on Russia literally, not as the offhand ramblings of an ignorant celebrity candidate but as reflecting essentially the closest thing to a considered policy view that we are going to get from Trump.

It’s worth reading Trump’s full answer to the question about whether he holds Russia accountable for anything in particular just to see how long the answer is — how much time he had to think of something, and the extent to which the only specific wrongdoing he can name is on the part of the FBI for conducting an investigation of Russian crimes (emphasis added):

Yes, I do. I hold both countries responsible. I think the United States has been foolish. I think we have all been foolish. We should have had this dialogue a long time ago, a long time, frankly, before I got to office. I think we’re all to blame. I think that the United States now has stepped forward along with Russia. We’re getting together and we have a chance to do some great things, whether it’s nuclear proliferation in terms of stopping, we have to do it — ultimately, that’s probably the most important thing that we can be working on.

I do feel that we have both made some mistakes. I think that the probe is a disaster for our country. I think it’s kept us apart. It’s kept us separated. There was no collusion at all. Everybody knows it. People are being brought out to the fore. So far that I know, virtually, none of it related to the campaign. They will have to try really hard to find something that did relate to the campaign.

That was a clean campaign. I beat Hillary Clinton easily and, frankly, we beat her. And I’m not even saying from the standpoint — we won that race. It’s a shame there could be a cloud over it. People know that. People understand it. The main thing — and we discussed this also — is zero collusion. It has had a negative impact upon the relationship of the two largest nuclear powers in the world. We have 90 percent of nuclear power between the two countries. It’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous what’s going on with the probe.

Later, asked specifically about Russian-backed hackers stealing Americans’ private correspondence, Trump said, “My people came to me, [Director of National Intelligence] Dan Coats came to me, and some others, and said they think it’s Russia. I have President Putin; he just said it’s not Russia. I will say this. I don’t see any reason why it would be, but I really do want to see the server. But I have confidence in both parties.”

That’s the president of the United States saying he has equal confidence in the president of Russia and the American intelligence community. It’s a politically baffling thing to say — so baffling that I don’t buy the common hot take that Trump’s slipperiness on this question merely reflects resentment at having the legitimacy of his election win challenged. After all, all he’s doing with this kind of rhetoric is undermining his own position.

Fox’s Kilmeade explains that Trump sees every Russian interference question as an accusation that his victory wasn’t legitimate. So he can’t say: Yeah, they interfered. I am quite sure this is exactly right.

— Dan Froomkin (@froomkin) July 16, 2018

The simplest explanation for why a president who happily outsources his domestic policy to Paul Ryan and his judicial nominations to the Federalist Society insists on freelancing around Russia is that there is a genuine meeting of the minds between Trump and Putin across a broad range of issues.

Russia hawks in the United States and Europe have long been concerned about German plans to build a natural gas pipeline, known as Nord Stream 2, that would give Russian fossil fuels more access to the European market. Trump, who often likes to criticize Germany but rarely likes to criticize Russia, surprised many observers by criticizing this pipeline at the NATO summit in Brussels late last week.

It seemed, superficially, like Trump was finding a way to integrate his passion for making trouble for German Chancellor Angela Merkel with something resembling a normal American foreign policy. But such hopes were quickly dashed by his performance in Helsinki.

Trump repeatedly railed against the Nord Stream 2 pipeline between Russia and Germany, asking why the US should protect Germany from Russia when Berlin purchases so much gas from Moscow. Putin won’t like that line one bit. Interesting to see if it comes up in Helsinki pic.twitter.com/j019Mi4lJl

— John Hudson (@John_Hudson) July 11, 2018

Asked by a Russian journalist about both the pipeline and how he would characterize the US-Russia relationship, Trump made it clear that his concern about the pipeline isn’t that it would give Russia undue political leverage over Germany but simply that it would be bad for American fossil fuel interests:

I called him a competitor, and a good competitor he is. I think the word competitor is a compliment. I think that we will be competing when you talk about the pipeline. I’m not sure necessarily that it’s in the best interests of Germany or not. That was a decision that they made. We will be competing. As you know, the United States is now, or soon will be, but I think it is right now the largest in the oil and gas world. So we’re going to be selling LNG. We’ll have to be competing with the pipeline. I think we will compete successfully. Although there is a little advantage locationally. I wish them luck.

I discussed with Angela Merkel in pretty strong tones. But I also know where they’re coming from. They have a very close source. We will see how that all works out. But we have lots of sources now. The United States is much different than it was a number of years ago when we weren’t able to extract what we can extract today. So today, we’re number one in the world at that. I think we will be out there competing very strongly. Thank you very much.

Trump’s view on the relationship of NATO to Nord Stream is so stupid that it’s almost hard to believe this is what he’s saying, but it’s consistent with his overall worldview.

While a normal US leader might worry that Russo-German energy ties would undermine Germany’s ability to lead an independent Europe on a political level, Trump’s objection is clearly backward — he doesn’t think it’s worth America’s while to contribute to Europe’s defense via NATO if Europe is going to turn around and buy Russian gas. He defines Russia as a “competitor” to the United States exclusively in the commercial sphere rather than the geopolitical one.

That’s why he called the European Union a “foe” in much stronger terms — on the level of competition for export markets, Europe really is a bigger competitor than Russia.

If you view world affairs through an exclusively mercantilist lens, as Trump does, then America’s closest allies (mostly rich democracies) are our biggest enemies and deterring Russian expansionism is a waste of time and money. It’s time to accept that this is what Trump really thinks and that he is governing accordingly.

It’s easy to forget now, but Trump entered the White House with an unprecedentedly low level of support from his own party.

A dozen Republican senators and a gaggle of vulnerable House members refused to say that they were voting for him, while Speaker Ryan said he would no longer defend or campaign with Trump. And Trump as a candidate was personally hostile to a number of established GOP figures, and expressed heterodox views on a wide range of policy issues. In theory, that could have set up an unusual political dynamic in which congressional Republicans subjected Trump to an uncommonly stringent level of oversight for a same-party president, and Trump engaged in an uncommonly high level of policymaking that cut across established party lines.

Instead, Trump and GOP leaders rather quickly reached a tacit compromise — no restraint whatsoever on Trump’s personal corruption or financial conflicts of interest, and no attempt by Trump to pursue the heterodox agenda on infrastructure, health care, antitrust, etc. that he promised on the campaign trail.

The deal has worked well on domestic issues, culminating in the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to succeed Anthony Kennedy on the Supreme Court. But on foreign affairs, it’s begun to fall apart after a mostly successful 2017. Coats, Defense Secretary James Mattis, and others with conventional conservative Republican views hold the key advisory jobs in the Trump administration, but Trump is clearly not interested in actually taking their advice because he thinks that advice is wrong.

He is acting to unravel America’s global trading relationships, doing what he can to undermine NATO and the European Union, trying to find an excuse to wriggle out of defense obligations to South Korea, and otherwise implement the mercantilist vision he articulates over and over again.

It’s time to stop psychoanalyzing Trump’s statements — and time for congressional Republicans to stop issuing toothless statements denouncing them — and take this seriously as the president’s governing agenda.

Original Source -> It’s time to take Trump both seriously and literally on Russia

via The Conservative Brief

[elizabethleslie7654]

Ascendants and Americans

all kinds of cool jewelry and no shipping or getting mobbed t the mall

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Thirty years of incompetence has made American politics into an ethnic conflict. 

by Tom Shackleford

I think most of us by now have heard about a speech by George W. Bush in which he denounced White Nationalism and argued for globalism. I read some excerpts, but I never even bothered to actually listen to it. After all, being denounced by a bumbling mass-murderer doesn’t exactly sting. However, it did prompt a bit of retrospection on the past 30 years.

Bipartisan Policy

First, consider the bipartisan consensus that placed our country on its path to ruin. Disingenuous rhetoric was quite literally the only thing that differentiated either party. In the practical application of power, they were quite consistent regardless of shifting electoral outcomes. Both serve the same oligarchy, whose interests don’t coincide with the average person. 

For instance, the Third World demographic influx has come at the exclusive electoral benefit of the Democrats, but it had had the support of Republicans. In some cases, this support is quite explicit. I can recall a speech made last year by John McCain in which he announced that he would never stop fighting for amnesty. I can’t help but think that this was the result of ulterior motives that had nothing to do with mere elections. If not, why would he advocate for a dramatic surge in the demographic process that cost him the presidency? 

One Path: The Ascendant

This is the terminal phase of the USA. During this era, there are two paths to the presidency. The first was demonstrated by the 2008 and 2012 elections. Obama was twice installed in the Oval Office by vibrancy. It is now readily apparent that the success of this approach hinged on the very fact that he himself is a vibrant. Race is real and it is the primary factor that gets these people into voting booths. The average vibrant can’t even perform basic arithmetic, let alone get a grasp on the complex set of issues that shape the fate of the country. He looked like them, in sharp contrast to his two White opponents, and that was really all that mattered. The hollow sophistry barked at them was irrelevant. 

This led the establishment into the paradigm of a “Coalition of the Ascendant,” which was, from then on, considered to be the decisive voting bloc. Hillary’s campaign functioned on this premise, stupidly assuming that they could replicate Obama outcomes without noticing that they were running a White woman. 

That wasn’t a mere campaign. It was the greatest propaganda effort in the history of the human race. Obama had similar backing at his disposal, but he pretty much sold himself. That “Hope” poster was perhaps all it took. Selling Hillary Clinton on the other hand, was quite a tall order.  Thus, her team worked in tight, disciplined coordination with the MSM and Corporatocracy that owns it. This coalition included the vocal support of the major tech companies that dominate online discourse. Everyone from Google’s Eric Schmidt to Facebook’s Sheryl Sandberg worked publicly on its behalf. Last November, it proved to be a spectacular failure that’s understandably induced nonstop hysteria ever since. 

The Other Path: Acknowledge Pissed-Off White People

Hillary ended up being humiliated by a man she thought had zero chance of winning. During the campaign, emails disclosed by Wikileaks revealed that they were so confident of Trump’s toxicity that they asked the MSM to push coverage of him over the other Republican primary cucks. This was done because they calculated that Trump winning the Republican nomination would seal victory by a huge margin long before votes were even cast. 

They ended up losing to Trump mainly because he shared the same skin color (calling him orange didn’t work) as the walking corpse they were parading in front of the cameras. While Trump traveled the country with an animalistic energy, his campaign infrastructure was minimal and ill-disciplined. It didn’t even have the genuine support of the party he decided to hijack. Trump took the approach of responding to the anger of White America over having the economic foundation of their country exported, while a new people were imported to displace them and turn the place into a Third World cesspool. His win illustrated that addressing reality can still prevail no matter how many resources are deployed in opposition.

Blindness

Regardless, neither party has learned much from the whole fiasco. I have to give credit to the Democrats for at least attempting to de-platform us. Publicly, it’s been non-stop nonsense about Russia. Behind the curtain, it’s obvious that insiders realized what happened. An MSM poll recently pegged around 10% of Americans as holding Alt Right views, which is of course a staggering underestimate, since none of us would even participate in a poll. In an election that came down to a handful of votes, in a handful of places, it’s reasonable to surmise that we made a significant impact. Hillary backed that up with a recent quote that we’re just “.15%” of the population.  Chronic liars often dispense truth in much the way that right appears left from the opposite direction. 

Unfortunately for them, efforts to counter our influence took the inevitable form of Nazi name-calling in the MSM. By labeling us what we clearly are not and then naming Trump as one of us, as he clearly is not, they’ve been quite helpful in adding fuel to the blaze. 

Terry McAuliffe, a naïve presidential hopeful, instigated bedlam in Charlottesville in an attempt deal the Alt Right a death blow. This decision illustrates the level of miscalculation that still guides legacy politicians.  If Unite the Right went off as a peaceful rally as its organizers intended and conducted repeatedly in the past, then it would have been a fleeting headline. Instead it’s a story that just won’t go away. This has proven to be a huge boon, because a movement appealing to realists can only benefit from publicity. 

It seems that they considered us something that would fizzle out like the Tea Party, without understanding that we’re only getting bigger as the existential crisis in Western Civilization continues to worsen. White politicians like McAuliffe are deluded enough to think that they can follow in the footsteps of the Bushes and Clintons, even though that model belongs to an era that passed at least a decade ago.

Bushes and Clintons in the Rearview

In a political sense, the signature accomplishment of the Bushes and Clintons is to ensure that nobody like themselves can ever be president again. During their time in the sun, the demographic change and the alienation has become palpable. Currently, presidential viability for each party is as follows: as a Democrat, you can be a non-White, anti-White candidate and win. As a Republican, you can be a White, pro-White candidate and win. Neither candidate should articulate their approach explicitly.  

What this spells for 2020 is more clear for the Democrats than the Republicans. As a 75 year old, it’s not certain that Trump would want a second term even if his health allowed it. Moreover, this country has profound problems, both fiscal and economic, which seem likely to spiral in the interim.

If Trump doesn’t seek office again, I would predict the Democrats running Kamala Harris and winning over some imbecile like John Kasich. That’s because the Republican Party won’t allow another hijacking, and there’s nobody yet on the horizon with the financial resources and brazen mentality like Trump to pull off such a maneuver. We’ll just have to wait and see. Until then, enjoy the show.

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Lesotho Infinity And Beyond: 24 December 2016: Zimbabwe- Bulawayo

               From Francistown, I got on this bus to the Ramokgwebana/Plumtree border between Botswana and Zimbabwe. To get out of Botswana, it was slowish, but organized. The bus picked everyone up after we’d all stamped out and took us to the Zimbabwe side, and there it took insanely longer and was much more chaotic, with people butting in, crowding around the counters, etc. It costs $30 for an American to get a single-entry visa to Zim. I had the option to pay with USD, Rand, Pula, Pounds, or Euros.

                Let me elaborate on the money situation here, oh readers, because it is an interesting one indeed. Seriously- I went down the internet wormhole just reading so far into this. Here’s the Wikipedia link if you’re interested in reading more.

                The gist of the situation is that in the 1980s, Zimbabwe was doing pretty well economically. In the late 90s, though, Mugabe’s government instituted land reforms that put the land owned by white people into the hands of black people. This included a lot of farmland, which the white farmers had been growing lots of successful crops on. Once the whities were forced out and the new black “farmers” took over, it was soon evident that they didn’t have any experience with farming, and the country fell into a food shortage situation. The fact that banks were also failing didn’t help, and Zimbabwe turned from an exporter into an importer, effectively accruing lots of foreign debt. So how do you get out of debt? You need more money. What’s the easiest thing you can do to get more money in a bunk economy? Print it, of course. What could possibly go wrong? Answer: everything.

Printing vast quantities of money, as you probably learned in some economics class, causes inflation, as there is more money for the same amount of goods, so the money loses its value. The money becomes more and more worthless, so you have to print more and more bills of higher denominations to keep up. What results is a horrific vicious cycle of hyperinflation. It was so bad that at the end of 2008, the money was inflating at a rate of about 80 billion percent…per month! You’ve probably heard about Germans taking wheelbarrows of money to the store to buy a loaf of bread in the 1920s. Yep, same story here in Zim. The highest denomination that the government printed, right before the currency was abandoned in 2009, was 100 trillion dollars. Yep, that’s trillion with a capital T, which rhymes with P, which stands for pandemonium. But it wasn’t even really 100 trillion; the number value should have actually been 1025 times more than that, because of various droppings of zeroes in the process of successive printings. If you checked the price of, say, eggs at a shop in the morning, went home to get wads and wads of cash to pay for said eggs, and returned in the afternoon, whoops, the price skyrocketed and you don’t have even close to enough money anymore. Even before the Zim dollar was discontinued, the country informally, and then formally, switched to a multi-currency economy. Bartering was also very common. The USD was the currency of choice, as it was the strongest currency, but you could also use a whole host of other global currencies. I’ll go into the current currency situation a little more in the next post, but this just gives you a good idea about how chaotic things got, and how uncertain anything concerning money was/continues to be in this country.

                So yes, back to the journey at hand. But before I continue, loyal readers, my mom in the next room would like to add that she was in Zimbabwe in the 70s when it was still called Rhodesia. Wild. Anyway, overall, from border to border to freedom, it was three hours, mostly spent waiting in lines. I walked to the taxi rank on the Zim side and got the last spot (read, the taxi was full but I got squeezed in there anyway) on a minibus taxi to Bulawayo for $5, plus another $2 for my bag in the back trailer. Not wanting to use my dollars, I paid 80 Botswanan Pula instead, which they happily accepted.

After getting off the taxi in Bulawayo, I immediately went to the Pick and Pay grocery store where, guess what, I waited in more interminable lines for both the parcel counter to drop my bags and for the registers. I forgot that it was super close to Christmas, so that was probably why the store was so crowded. Then I wandered through the outdoor market to find my way back to the taxi rank. Everyone was very friendly directing me to the local taxi going to Burnside, the neighborhood my hostel was in. It was a short 50 cent ride. Here they only took USD. They laughed when I tried to pay with Pula again. But the cool thing about that ride is that I paid with a $10 bill, and in my change, among the super gross and floppy dollar bills I received (they never go out of circulation since they can’t afford to have less currency going around), I also got some new Zimbabwe Bond Notes, which are the government’s answer to the currency shortage. The thing about the Bond Notes is that they are only good within Zimbabwe, so they can’t be used to pay for foreign goods, so they’re pretty worthless in the grand scheme of things. They were only introduced a month before I got to Zimbabwe, and they're made in the form of coins and $2 notes (they have since started making $5 notes), tied to the USD.

I got out and walked to Burke’s Backpackers. It’s a beautiful and green property with the Burke family home, a pool, a pond, lots of trees, and some rooms and space for camping. That night, the family was having lots of people over to (badly) sing Christmas songs on the porch. Their out-of-tune voices lulled me to sleep as I lay in my tent that I set up next to the pool.

                The next day, the owners put me in touch with two other guests, a Swiss German and French Canadian who were traveling between semesters studying in Stellenosch, which is the wine country right outside of Cape Town. I recognized their car from several other places in Botswana, where we both had been staying, but somehow we had never talked to each other. I distinctly remembered them at Planet Baobab in Gweta, where they had quite a loud girl with them who never stopped singing and talking. She had since left the trip to go see family or something, and the two guys seemed relieved to have dropped her off a few days earlier.

                Making friends with people with cars is great. The three of us drove around Matopos National Park ($15 entry fee each person, $10 for the car). This park has lots of rock formations and balancing boulders, which feature on one side of each Zimbabwe Dollar note and the new Bond Notes (see picture above). We drove around the park, admiring the rocks, and did a little hiking including up to some cave paintings, then to the top of this small mountain. At one point, there was the option to pay $10 more to see Cecil Rhodes’s grave, but we enthusiastically declined. Why should we pay our respects (and our money) to a guy who took over and exploited Southern Africa for its diamonds and other natural resources? He is highly vilified by most people around here, so we passed.

Push!

Cave drawings

Hiking

 A view of the park

                The next afternoon, after paying for my camping spot at Burke's in both Pula and USD, I got all my stuff and walked to the road to wait for a taxi to pass by. Without even trying to flag down anyone, a guy just stopped for me and took me straight to the train station. On the way, he stopped at the Spar grocery store to see if his friend had cash for him. No cash today. This country is so strapped for cash and there isn’t any in most banks. And if there is, you can only take out $50 per day. This means that a lot of company owners effectively can’t take out enough money to pay their workers. One method of getting cash is at the grocery stores, because they seem to be the biggest source of it. You pay with a card, then get some cash back.

                So after the obligatory asking me to marry him and bring him to the US and me subsequently shutting down the conversation by truthfully saying that I literally did not have a sim card on which he could call me, the guy dropped me off at the train station. It’s so weird- even when I so vehemently shut down someone like that, they’re still super friendly, and he still said that it was nice to speak English with me and get to know what I was doing in this part of the world.

                In the next post, your hero takes an overnight train to Victoria Falls!

Another view of Matopos

The whole crew

On top of the rock mountain

Balancing rocks

More balancing rocks (middle)

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