#merely unrelenting chaos to his own advantage

[age-of-moonknight]

“Memory of a Killer,” Moon Knight: City of the Dead (Vol. 1/2023), #1.

Writer: David Pepose; Penciler: Marcelo Ferreira; Inker: Jay Leisten; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[melishade]

Number 90?

This ask game

Why not work on parts of the Chaos Timeline Pilot? Here's part 1

TW Gore. TW Blood

"Eren, stay back! Do not engage!" Optimus ordered as he activated his battle mask and charged at the faceless titan. The titan shifter was still baffled at the sight of Megatron refusing to attack him, ordering him to stand down and calling him 'Soundwave'. Eren turned to his friends in his titan form, and saw they were preoccupied with the strange bird that detached itself from Soundwave's chest.

He didn't know what was going on. He was so confused and afraid. Why did Megatron seem afraid of him? Eren examined Soundwave's movements. He was fast and agile, dodging attacks from Optimus like it was nothing while striking Megatron with all that he had. And despite that small, nimble, frame, he was actually causing some push back against the massive titan.

Eren gasped when Soundwave managed to grab Optimus' arm and throw him over his shoulder towards Megatron. The two crashed into each other before slamming into multiple trees. Eren had no choice. He knows listening to Optimus' advice was probably the best way to go, but he had to engage. They were in danger. Eren charged at threw a punch at Soundwave's back, but gasped when Soundwave dodged the attack without even looking behind him.

Eren looked at the faceless titan, and despite everything. Despite the size advantage, despite the fact that Soundwave had no face, the titan looked furious. He saw his own reflection mirrored on the screen, but he could've sworn he saw eyes glaring at him. And he could feel the murderous intent radiating off of this thing!

Soundwave raised his slender arm and slammed it down on the back of Eren's neck. Eren felt his senses shut down and he almost passed out from the hit. It actually broke his connection to his titan body for a brief moment. Eren slammed face first into the ground and groaned, feeling his human body reconnecting with his titan body. Eren gasped when he noticed out of the corner of his eye Soundwave reaching for the nape of his neck once again. Eren quickly rolled out of the way as Soundwave's fist hit the ground hard.

Eren scrambled to stand upright and charged again, but yelled when a long, glowing, snake-like appendage emerged from the side of his body and wrapped around his arm!

"What the hell?!" Eren screamed in the nape, but Soundwave seized Eren's moment of weakness and used his appendage to crush and rip off Eren's lower arm.

Eren forced himself to regenerate quickly, thankful for the recent injection of the energon serum, but Soundwave was unrelenting. Another appendage emerged from the other side of his body before jamming into his ribcage. Eren screamed when Soundwave started electrocuting him from the inside out. Eren couldn't retain his proper bodily functions as Soundwave pulled out the appendage in his side. The titan shifter noticed small tendrils at the end buzzing with electricity at the tips. Eren tried to smack him in the head, but the faceless titan ducked before digging his hand into the open wound in Eren's ribcage. Eren was stunned to find his wound didn't even regenerate, but ignored it as he tried to kick Soundwave away. However, Soundwave's appendage quickly wrapped around his leg and began crushing it.

Eren screamed out in pain as he felt the crushed leg get torn off. Eren then felt something heavy get ripped out of his chest, and he was horrified to see that it was the beating heart of his titan form. Soundwave didn't crush it though. He merely tossed it aside before wrapping both appendages around Eren's waist. Eren yelled in fear as Soundwave swung him around with his whole body before throwing him across the grass. Eren's body skidded to a stopped, destroying the foliage and whatever else was underneath him. Eren tried to regenerate, but...he couldn't. Why couldn't he regenerate? What was he even hit with?

Eren's gaze forced himself to see Soundwave approaching him. He didn't understand. Who was this...this thing? Soundwave's appendage reached for his neck and wrapped around it, ready to crush it, and him, but Megatron quickly rushed Soundwave and slammed him in the face with his shield. Eren was shocked at the sight of the screen shattering on impact as the appendage let him go.

Soundwave rolled across the ground rather violently as pieces of his mask scattered across the grass. Eren tried to force himself onto his arms, but his body felt so weak. He could only adjust his head to see Soundwave scrambling to get up. Those long fingers of his right hand were pressed upwards against his broken mask, trying so desperately to hold it in place and keep it intact. But broken glass still fell to the ground, and Eren managed to catch a lone red optic staring in horror at Megatron. It looked so betrayed at Megatron's single act, but why?

"Soundwave! I am ordering you to stand down!" Megatron commanded.

"Traitor!" Eren couldn't tell if that was Soundwave's voice. It sounded like someone else was speaking, but even then, the voice that came out was broken and distorted.

"The war is over and we lost!" Megatron yelled, "There is no need for this senseless fighting! Now stay down!"

"No."

Eren managed to blink at that. That sounded real. That sounded like a monster. It sounded like the voice of a monster that would hide in the closest or under the bed. It was the stuff of nightmares. The lone red eye that stared in horror now burned with rage towards Megatron. Megatron seemed to think Soundwave was something that came from nightmares too, since he looked horrified at the sight of Soundwave speaking.

"Megatron: No longer my master."

Before Eren could think, Optimus had shielded his body as Soundwave used his appendage to fire red bullets at everyone in sight. In all the chaos and confusion, Eren saw Soundwave grabbing the bird that was on his chest before transforming and flying off to who knows where.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Hanji screamed at Megatron, "Go after him!"

The Commander ended up pausing when they noticed just how horrified both Optimus and Megatron looked at the figure that was flying off. They had managed to catch Megatron's lips moving, mumbling something about 'breaking a vow'. What the hell did he even mean by that?

(Well this took a long time to answer. And this will definitely undergo revisions before the Pilot comes out. #89 has been asked the rest is free game.)

[dukeofdogs]

Vilgefortz

Chest 1: Vilgefortz did not need absolute power to be corrupted absolutely. Indeed, the mere pursuit of such a thing was more than enough to warp him beyond redemption. For reasons unknown, and driven by an unwavering desire to achieve his soaring ambitions, Vilgefortz sought to elevate himself to a god-like status, and was utterly consumed by this vision. To do this, he was convinced that he needed the Elder Blood, which just so happened to flow through the veins of a certain ashen-haired Child Surprise. Unfortunately for the megalomaniacal mage, the descendant of Lara Dorren had an entourage of formidable and ruthlessly loyal allies, and Vilgefortz met his grim fate at the end of a witcher’s sword.

Chest 2: Vilgefortz had never truly felt empathy. To him, it was a concept as alien as the most distant stars in the night sky. He had, however, perceived it in others, and saw clearly its significance within a social context. Reflecting upon the importance of such a skill, he concluded it would be beneficial for him to harness the power of empathy, so he may use it to his advantage. Thus, he studied it, closely observing how compassion and sympathy were used to form relations, bolster friendships, and⁠—most importantly to the mage⁠⁠—how they could be used to manipulate others. He mimicked what he saw, practiced his performance, and perfected his routine. Soon enough, he could maneuver the emotions of others as fluidly as he could wield a staff or shape the element of fire. As if simply pulling at the strings of a marionette, he turned his acquaintances into obedient puppets. Tethered to their master by an unwavering loyalty⁠, many of his underlings were compelled to commit atrocious acts on Vilgefortz’s behalf, with some even willingly sacrificing themselves to further the mage’s cause.

Chest 3: During his long stint as a mercenary, Vilgefortz traveled to the far corners of the world, assimilating the ways of various cultures and mastering an array of exotic weaponry⁠—including his favorite of all: the quarterstaff. A formidable fighter in his own right, the mercenary’s capabilities only flourished as he was indoctrinated in the ways of magic. Drawing upon the elemental planes, he would imbue his staff with the power of chaos. With a quick flick of the wrist, his weapon would hit with the full force of a battering ram, while remaining as light as a wisp of smoke. Moreover, he would use magic to achieve near-perfect precision and to hone his reflexes to split-second reactions. With this in mind, one should take pity upon all the fools who were unfortunate enough to challenge Vilgefortz in hand-to-hand combat, for the outcome of the bout would have surely been determined long before the first⁠—and often last⁠—blow of the mage’s staff landed.

Scroll 1: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen was an exceptionally powerful mage, a veteran of the Battle of Sodden Hill, and a member of the Chapter of Wizards—at least, until its dissolution in the bloody aftermath of the Thanedd Coup, of which he was a prime instigator.

Scroll 2: Strikingly handsome, devilishly intelligent, and skilled beyond his years, Vilgefortz commanded the admiration and respect of all those who knew him. It’s no surprise that many of his peers were envious of his fortunate position, yet, for him, these attributes were not nearly enough to sate his lofty aspirations. He wanted far, far more.

Scroll 3: Indeed, Vilgefortz was a vehemently ambitious man; his actions largely dictated by an unrelenting drive to become the most powerful being in the world⁠—and perhaps across all space and time, if one could even fathom such an authority.

Scroll 4: In order to pursue this all-consuming desire, the mage made a pact with the Nilfgaardian Emperor, promptly betrayed his countrymen and kin, and slaughtered all those who dared halt his progress. Alas, Vilgefortz made one too many enemies on the path towards ultimate power and his past sins soon caught up with him.

[lizacstuff]

I'm sure others will ask this but what are you thoughts on the episode of SCK?? I love your in-depth analysis lol. I personally loved it!!! Also can I just say that the edser/hanker chemistry is off the charts lol. If this was the first episode I watched ever, without subtitles, their scenes would be a giant neon sign that says "THESE CHARACTERS ARE MADLY IN LOVE!!!". Eda was beyond cute/in love/adorable in this episode with serkan, girl has got it bad and I wish she didn't have her stupid grandmother and these insecurities in the way ahhh. I really love the Ayfer/Aydan duo, they're fun when they're together and Ayfer wasn't annoying like the last few EPs. Also, Balca can go choke lol, I'm so glad Serkan didn't fall for her trap for him to stay over!! He was like nah come to the party (my girl is waiting!!!). Was serkan about to tell Eda that he had to stop by her house? He seemed really nervous. ANYWAYS, I love EdSer and am going to go watch their scenes 1000x before next week 😭🥰

Thank you! I love Edser too!!!!  Like you, I enjoyed this episode, though it was despite some of the narrative issues (that I posted about here.) There were good, meaty Edser scenes, which is why I watch this show. Once again I'll start with the non-Eda/Serkan thoughts and then get to the feelsy stuff at the end.

Babaanne's introduction did not disappoint. The actress has the right energy for the role. I guess we now know why Eda has been adamant about cutting her out of her life, Babaanne is next level controlling and vindictive. We'll have to see how she develops and what her endgame motives are. Does she want her revenge more than she wants her granddaughter and daughter in her life? Or does she think if she wins and arranges everything including an advantageous marriage for Eda, Eda will eventually go along and decide it's awesome and reconciliation will come about that way? *evil laugh* She doesn’t know her granddaughter at all if she thinks that’s a possibility. 

(more under the cut)

I enjoyed her non-Balca scenes, especially when she was going toe-to-toe with Eda. That scene in Serkan's old upstairs office was intense, both actresses really brought it and kudos to Eda staying true to her defiant character. No one pushes her around. Prepare yourselves to see her waver a bit, I'm sure it's quite jarring to see your loved one in jail and know that he's there because of you, but she'll get to the point of fighting beside him. I have no doubt.

It was nice to see Ayfer protecting Aydan and Seyfi, it made for some great comedy and it was a good change after all of Ayfer's annoying, unrelenting negativity in general and about the Bolats. We'll see what happens between the two now that they appear to be vying for Chef Alexander's attention. Nesilhan just cracks me up when she's portraying Aydan play acting, the stilted voice she takes on is always hilarious to me, like when Ayfer was introducing "Aisun" to Serkan.  As we move forward, though, I want to see some badass Aydan. She  was introduced to us as a force of nature, so I hope we see that woman, a woman who will go to the mat for her son and Eda, emerge at some point. No hiding from Babaanne long term. Everyone needs to gear up to fight!

Peril and Engin got married! Their scene at home was really well done and gave me a bit better insight into them and why they might work. The only thing I was disappointed about here was that Serkan was not their witness. He counts them as some of his only friends and they didn't call him? Come on, show!  They could have easily structured the ep to have him get the call while there was chaos at his loft that morning and it would have been the perfect excuse for him to grab Eda and head to the wedding leaving the moms and Babaane to Chef Alexander.  It wouldn't have changed anything about the episode because Eda still could have gone to do her thing after the wedding and everything else would have been the same, except it all would have had a bit more heart. Missed opportunity there. 

I've decided that Ferit is a catch. At the beginning of the show he was just so naïve, that he seemed foolish, but he's really turned into a sweet, upstanding man. You hold on to him, Ceren. The irony in his relationship with Serkan is just outstanding to me, because ALL of this started because Serkan was willing to upend his own life (and Selin, Ferit and Eda's) will the sole goal of keeping Ferit out of his business, and now here we are 24 episodes later, Selin is long gone, Eda is the love of his life, and Ferit has turned into a solid, trust-worthy business partner and friend who is putting Babaanne in her place on the first day. Love to see it. 

Balca, that snake just gets more unhinged as we go along. Good GAWD. WTF is wrong with her? Her eventual comeuppance better be big. I'm really to the point that I can't enjoy any scene that she's in, it's just too maddening, because neither Serkan nor Eda are taking her seriously enough. Which I realize they don't know what we know, but dang I hope Serkan is finally connecting the dots because her behavior is not normal. As Eda says, who gives a gift like that to their boss? Who calls their new boss instead of the police when there's an intruder in the house?  By now he should be able to figure out she's manipulating him.  

Also how was she not daunted when she called and Eda was there?  What did she think would happen when he came to get the gift when he had Eda to get home to? On top of everything else she's shameless and delusional.  As for the gift, that was creepy AF. Did she seriously think that her boss, who she's known a week, would be romanced by that?  Or any man for that matter? Did Selin give her the impression he was so arrogant that this would be the perfect thing for him? As much as I want less of her on screen, I would like to know the thought process behind that embarrassing monstrosity. Because it was not a savvy move. But the good news is that no one was more creeped out by it than Serkan Bolat. It seemed to really unsettle him, which it should. It was nice to see Eda getting over her jealousy, perhaps that came with her decision to try and move forward. Before she was in this state of flux, deep-down wanting Serkan to be hers, but not being able to admit that and feeling an outside threat during that confusion. 

I saw some criticism of Eda because she was openly mocking and dismissive of Balca. However, while I agree her behavior was a tad immature at times... Balca was totally asking for it.  She's been at the company for mere days and her weird, manipulative, obsessive behavior is totally inappropriate. Also if she didn't take a hint from Eda opening mocking her, Eda picking out her gift from Serkan, Serkan deferring queries about his NYE plans to Eda, Eda being at his house when Balca called, I think we can safely say that Balca in unaffected by any of Eda's behavior, thus Eda isn't hurting anyone. While Balca is over here, claws out, trying to start a war. Balca is the villain here, not Eda for recognizing and making fun of it.

Despite the emotional inconsistencies between Eda and Serkan in this episode, during one scene they were hot, the next, one or the other was cold without rhyme or reason, there were many great conversations. I really enjoyed their conference room scenes in particular. Serkan confident and calming her down, Eda being enraged by Babaanne, but listening to him and letting him calm her down. 

His little Eda Bolat coffee cup gag was priceless, he did succeed in both diverting her and flirting with her in one suave move. Also a nice bit of foreshadowing there, which there was a lot of this episode. Not just this and the bouquet catch, but also every single one of their domestic scenes. 

As I said in this post, the rewrite, or whatever happened this episode, did cause some pretty big emotional inconsistencies from scene to scene. I know most people loved the scenes when Eda went to find Serkan, but it was a little whiplashy for me.  We go from Serkan being calm and collected and happily flirting with her about being Eda Bolat at the office, to a short time later him being moody and standoffish with her at his house? It's understandable that he would be upset at her suggestion that she leave the company, but I would think the man that broke her heart for her own good, would understand why she might think of  leaving in order to get rid of someone who is threatening him! 

It just felt like a weird time for him to hit his threshold with her, especially since this was when they were supposed to be heading to Paris (huge writing fail that there was no "Oh I guess we have to postpone Paris" throwaway line).  However, perhaps that was accelerated for him in the face of a real threat?  Like if it was just another day he's fine with her waffling and their little contract game, but he feels in his bones that this is go time and he needs to find out if she's ready for what's coming?  (Look at me finding reasons for the inconsistencies as I answer this ask, lmao).

Then the shaving scene was interesting. She starts by saying "Leaving was a dumb idea, I'm still here, I'll be by your side," which YAY and seems to me to be a huge step forward for her.... but then he doesn't feel it. Why exactly, didn't he feel it?  So then she transitions to the biggest head scratcher of the episode for me, and I really hope it's a translation fail. She basically references the movie they saw and says,  "If I could erase all memories of you, I would." Um... what? Is she really saying to him she wishes they never met? I sure hope there was some modifier in there, like "bad" memories only or something. It seemed way harsh and inconsistent with their feelings for one another. However, once he starts talking about being a machine before meeting her and his heart being too heavy without her, the dialogue is pretty great. He really bares his soul and she reciprocates with intimacy.  The second half of this scene is absolutely lovely. 

The visit to Aydan's house was interesting.  At some point I'm gonna need Aydan and especially Ayfer to step up when it comes to Babaanne.  Ayfer ran scared the whole episode and it's just not fair of her to leave the burden on Eda. Hopefully, she'll get there. There was a reason Babaanne told Eda not to tell Ayfer about the threats, and threatened harm to Serkan and family if she did so. I'm guessing Ayfer may be better equipped to deal with her mother than was suggested in this episode. The conversation about Eda running from her grandmother as a child and losing the bracelet was very affecting and well done, and thankfully Serkan was out of his sulky mood and in full-on supportive boyfriend mode. Phew, good to have you back, Serkan.

That throne Babaanne brought in was something else. Worth a good laugh. However, I feel like it highlights a few cracks we've already started to see in Babaanne's scary façade. First, there's the one I just talked about, with Babaanne not wanting Ayfer to know what she's up to, so we now know who might be successful in opposing her or might know things that could shut her down.. her daughter. Then this ridiculous throne move had to be her way of unsettling everyone, but as we see that fails with Serkan. He's pretty unflappable when it comes to her nonsense antics. 

Then Babaanne singles out Balca as her ally, which on one hand, it was astute of her to figure out who was the outsider, ripe for the picking, but she straight up choose the wack job, who let's face it, is not going to be all that competent of a foot soldier for her, because she has no allies and she's not in anyone's confidence. Plus she made that critical error with the present being so off-putting to Serkan. Balca might be able to cause problems, but she can’t get Serkan to transfer his affection for Eda onto her, so her usefulness here is limited. Babanne needed to try and fool someone like Melo, Ferit or Leyla. Prey on the nice ones who might try to be accommodating just so everyone gets along. 

Anyway, I loved the Edser scenes in the office, he brought her lemon water! My heart.  And I loved the meeting with the inner circle. Serkan has a plan! Of course our boy does, he wouldn't be Serkan Bolat if he didn't. It's always fun to see how much they all trust him to lead them through these tough times. He will once again emerge victorious. It just may take some time on this one

Note Blaca wasn't invited to that meeting, someone already can sense she can't be trusted. In the meeting later with Babaanne, I loved how Eda was sitting next to Serkan at the head of the table, totally squared off against her grandmother. That blocking was not by accident. It showed them facing her. On the same side. Together. United. That's what we call foreshadowing and that's how they're ultimately going to defeat her. Together. 

It's interesting to me that earlier in the day when Eda tells him maybe she should leave the company he gets upset, but when she shows up at his house and straight up says they can't be together, he's completely calm and is his normal confident self, talking her into staying the night with his usual ease. I'm thinking her manic rambling about him getting tired of her and her grandmother separating them was just too obvious of an emotional spiral after an exhausting day (that lasted 47 years and multiple wardrobe changes) so he didn't take any of it to heart.

As for the reason she needed a place to stay, WTF is Ayfer doing letting Babaanne stay in their home??  Kick her out for the love of God. I don't mind, since it gave us this fabulous sleepover, but come on woman, at one time you were strong enough to remove your niece from her which could not have been easy, where is your backbone now? Find it. Fast. 

LOVED LOVED LOVED every second of domestic Edser. How cute are they? Serkan wheeling her dinosaur suitcase was so adorable. And how cute is it that he bought hot chocolate for her? And THEN, THEN when they went to look at the stars? My heart melted clean out of my chest when he said, "I'm already looking at the most beautiful star."  Remember in 13 when he asked her, "How are you real?" and she basically told him to be careful or she'd get spoiled and expect that kind of romance all the time? Well apparently the romantic robot has an endless capacity to generate heart-stopping one-liners so she really needn't have worried. 

Eda's phone call with the girls was another whiplash moment for me. So wait... all episode her trepidation has been around her grandmother interfering or Serkan getting tired of her, but now she's back to wondering if he can change? Ne? And she isn't articulating what she wants him to change, or talking to him about change at all, only asking her friends if they think it's possible?? The change thing made perfect sense to me in eps 20-22, because she was coming off of his lie that broke her heart, but now I can't figure out what she wants from him. I think this is another casualty of whatever writing changes happened in this episode. I really hope the writers pull it together and figure out what the character's headspace is and stick with it. It's one thing to yo-yo from episode to episode, but to yo-yo scene to scene is too much. 

I know that they're trying to create suspense for whether she would meet him to ring in the New Year, and start fresh, but there are much more elegant ways to do this than constant retread conversations that don't make sense in context with the scenes that came before. Honestly, this episode had a LOT of wonderful scenes and humor and heartfelt moments, but it also felt like a franken-episode,  like if different writers were assigned different scenes and then they assembled the episode without going back to smooth out the tone and emotions.

That leads us to Serkan discovering Eda in the bath. What do we think was going through his mind there? lmao. He looked exceptionally pleased and he did the jokey flirty thing, taking a mental picture, but then when she comes downstairs in her jammies, he has gone into stone-cold work robot mode. I suppose the best I can guess is that he knew she was confused, he knew he had convinced her to stay under the guise it would be platonic and the "last time." 

He's always been a gentleman with her. So perhaps he felt compelled, for her sake, to keep it in that place, but seeing her in the bath send him into overdrive and the only thing he could do is throw himself into work to make sure the situation didn't go any further before she was fully ready? That's my best attempt at explaining it.  Still she was flirting hardcore with him when she came downstairs, it feels like that was the moment he's been waiting for since episode 19, and he let it sail by.  Ah well, at some point soon both their engines will be revving at the same time and we’ll finally get to the sexy times. 

The next morning was 100% adorable. Serkan Bolat serving breakfast in bed. I swoon!  What a sweetheart, because I'm pretty certain that Serkan does NOT like crumbs in his bed so this was a big gesture. And you could see how much she appreciated it, despite teasing him about the portion size. Eda, that breakfast would have been just fine by me, but if the girl has a big appetite, so be it.

Also, Edacim, it would be a lot easier to buy your "confusion" if you hadn't brought him a heartfelt gift that would have taken a good while, like weeks, to procure and then sketched in it for him!!!!  She had to have been planning that for some time.  Anyway, a very sweet gift and one of those moments where actions speak louder than words. We all want to hear Eda say the words "I Love You," but she just said it very loudly here in the form of this gift. Even if she wasn't fully aware she was saying it. It's obvious where her heart is, she just has to give herself permission to follow it.

This ep also brought the funny when half the cast of characters barged in on Edser’s little love nest. Good for both Eda and Serkan for refusing to be a part of the subterfuge for Babaanne. I'm hopeful we're going into a secret relationship/engagement storyline, but at this point I like that neither were cowing to her. Eda is an adult and it's nobody's business but her own where she stays the night! 

It cracks me up that Eda and Serkan were discombobulated by the intrusion, had the silent #married conversation, and headed upstairs together. Mostly because they are the two in the dark, what are they going to figure out by going upstairs alone? What they really needed was to talk to any of the other people to find out what in the hell was happening. Not that I blame them for wanting to escape that scene together. However, what was beautiful was their connection in these scenes. They were functioning as partners, as each other's person, as the one each turns to when they need support (or escape).  And that's really saying something since they were in a room full of the people they're both closest too.

Finally, I'm glad they spoiled the final scene in the fragman, because I would have been too stressed watching Balca's psychotic efforts in keeping Serkan away from the party, and Eda, if I hadn't known he would make it.  As it was, it  was too much to watch. They've done absolutely nothing to make her even a little sympathetic. I feel zero empathy for her, I don't understand why she's willing to take these risks. No man is worth it, girl! Especially not a man you just decided you wanted because of his initials!  The character needs to serve her purpose and go. Soon.

As for Serkan making it in time, THANK GOODNESS. I don't think Eda could have handled being stood up again. Even taking her call was a mistake. That's why we have voicemail, Serkan. And clearly he should have called the police on his way. I sincerely hope that he finds out the break-in was a fake and that's what makes him realize what level of crazy he's dealing with. I assume, because he didn't know what else to do, he left Balca in his home and that's what he wanted to tell Eda right before the police arrived. I shudder to think what damage she might do there alone. Installing a hidden mic or camera for Babaanne? Going through his things? Planting more items. Ew. If that spec is right the place will need to be fumigated.  

Serkan's gift was, of course, perfection. Talk about love in gift form, and did you notice that one of the charms was an "E" and one was an "S"? A sweet, heart-felt detail and a nice little nod to which initials really matter on this show.  Interestingly, after a full episode of inner turmoil, once Serkan arrived, Eda seemed to be all-in. She was bubbly and happy to see him and definitely acting like he was her date. And then the hug! Finally! They've obviously been physically close in recent post-break up episodes, for example elevator, pottery, dancing, skating, but what a relief to finally have this pure, intentional display of affection from her to him. Also a cheek kiss! This show, I swear it makes me grateful for the most chaste of moments.

As I said in another ask, I think the, "Will you be my girlfriend?" was in Serkan's head. We didn't see him say it, she didn't respond and the audio was hollow like it was a thought or memory or dream. However, what I can't answer is why we heard that. Why put it in there? We know he wants them to get back together, so that line doesn't inform the audience of anything they don't already know. So maybe proposal foreshadowing?  On the other hand, there is the line earlier in the episode that was voice over added after the fact (when Edser are in the small conf room and Serkan says he’s going home) so maybe they added the audio after the scene for some reason? I don’t know with this episode anything is possible. 

Then, of course, Babaanne ruins their moment with her evil plan. Next episode will she be sitting on her throne stroking a hairless cat Because it feel like Babaanne may like a bit of evil aura to surround her. Anyway, next stop... jail! I'm honestly excited to see how the next ep plays out. We're going to go through some things, so prepare your soul, but I honestly think we may end the ep in a better place. (new cliffhanger notwithstanding) We shall see. 

[yinses]

gratuity| gyomei himejima x reader

purely self indulgent. some proper self care after never ending chaos. watch me turn a cute morning into gratuitous anal sex. 

it wasn’t often that his stirring aroused you so early in the morning. the break of day was a habitual time for him to rise to days his prayers down at the time, his quiet steps rarely disturbing your stillness. it didn’t matter how you fell asleep the night before, regardless of how tangled you in your husband. 

so it was certainly an odd morning indeed, when you found yourself awake before he even began his departure. 

you felt his face shift under the outward splay of your hair, where his nose was buried into the warmth of your neck. unable to resist a lazy offering of a treat such as this, you curled into your side, drawing an arm over his impossibly wide girth. the state of his wakefulness didn’t stop you from planting sloppy kisses from his temple to the shell of his ear. 

the rumble of his chest marked the start of his own gentle kisses, leaving you to sign peacefully as mouthed at the protrusion of your collar bone. groaning into his ear, you point your toes downward into a stretch and pull your sleep-worn muscles tight. their protests were as lethargic as you felt, a dull complaint of strain. 

gyomei took your miscalculation of his wakefulness by surprise when he suddenly shifted you beneath him and rolled into his forearms. laughing through a prolonged yawn, you reach up run your fingers through the short of his hair. “I like sleep. But I love mornings like this.”

your husband merely hummed his confirmation as he mouthed down the center of your chest, reviving faded marks in his descent. he only strengthened your declaration that yes, mornings like these truly were like no other. 

preemptively reading the mood, you drew your legs around him where they notched at his hips. locking your calves at the base of your spine, you encouraged him to lie back against you, sweetening the deal with a slow drag of your wetness against the curve of his cock. 

his hands came to either side of your face, thumbs drawing circles against your cheekbones as he drew your lips together. you breathed him in as he sighed into your mouth, intoxicated by your taste and the slow rhythm of your body. 

squeezing a hand between your bodies, you slipped two fingers down to the knuckle within your depths, awakening any sleeping nerves. you were met with a satisfying lack of resistance. curling your touch inwards, you soiled your fingers further before drawing them out to circle his cock. you tried to pull him in, more than ready to take him but was no match for his strength as he held himself back. 

a flicker of amusement danced behind his gaze as he swallowed your inquisitive whimper. “patience,” he whispered, kissing you quiet. 

your breathing hitched twice then, once when the thick of his finger dipped shallowly to collect your wetness and twice when it drew a sticky trail between your cheeks. a choked moan of desperation that you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your lips and you grind back needily against the idle touch at your puckered ring. 

this wasn’t a rare occurrence, though it was more frequent for gyomei to explore other ways to fuck you sideways after he’d exhausted you from a round or two. it required more preparation than you mouth or cunt. and you were often too wound up to allow him the time. 

though now was hardly any different as you squirmed eagerly beneath him. 

“gyomei-please. i want it.”

if he could roll his eyes, he would have a thousand times now as he huffs playfully at you impatience. “be good for me then.”

it’s a challenge, a well placed one as you battled your yearning with obedience. gyomei already foreseeing your dilemma, took advantage of your distracted standoff to slip a finger into the first knuckle. 

it breaks your concentration, lips parted between a moan and a protest as you roll your hips downward. you quickly remedy the burning friction by returning your fingers to your core and using them to slick up his intrusion. it slides down a bit further but it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“the floorboards.”

your brow punches at the odd choice of instruction before realization flickers over it. twisting at the hip, you're grateful when gyomei follows your movements so as not to lose progress as you peel back the mats to feel around for the loose board. it only takes a quick rapt of your knuckles to give away its location before you’re greedily clawing back the wood. 

hidden beneath is a small jar of oil.  

he takes it from you, leaving you to wither from the loss of his finger as he dips a clean one into the substance. it’s a trial watching as he painstakingly coats each finger of both hands before settling the jar out of sight. 

more was never too much as some of it is wasted on your thigh as he drags you back under him. you hoped he wouldn’t tease-oh, fuck. he slips in fluidly this time settling at the hilt as you start to fuck yourself down against the stretch. 

it’s more of a grind than a proper rhythm as he refuses to give you that much control to hurt yourself. he never fails to put your safety over pleasure. despite your very vigorous and unrelenting demands to more ensure your comfort and your desire for him to ruin you. neither ever worked in your favor, more often than not reflecting varying degrees of punishment. 

maybe it’s a curse to be in love with a man blind to your debauched state. to be so hungry for the gap in his sight that he’d determinedly make your body sing so that he can hear his effect. from the sharp keen of your cries, to the scratch of your nails against the flooring. the hand not pumping in and out of your ass, grips at your trembling thigh just enough to feel the vibrating without disrupting the quake. 

“gyo, gyo,gyo-“ your voice cracks as you feel another finger slide in, then curl and you’re fucked. two fingers wouldn’t normally be enough but you won’t last the torturous pace of adding a third or fourth. 

at the sound of him lubing his cock you nearly weep. your gaze darts to the pinch of his brow where you know he’s come to the same conclusion. you mewl at the withdrawal of his fingers, the moment of despair short lived as the tip of him nudges at your entrance. 

it’s a lot, nearly too much but you bite down and grind your teeth through the stretch. it takes effort to keep your whimpers for a minimum but you refuse to give him any reason to pull back. if there was any time you wished he could see what he did to you, this would be one of plenty as you’re practically being wrenched apart at the seems. in between a steady breath a low moan leaves you as you raise your hips in encouragement. 

with the help of your arm around his neck, the quant abides by your silent gesture to draw him near. this close you can feel the forced steadiness of breath and you wonder if he’s that close to coming apart too. “relax your thighs. i've got you.”

it comes as a surprise to you as you realize how tightly your legs are gripping him, the tension no doubt adding pressure where you needed it the least. the moment your muscles go slack it gives him the room he needs to push the rest of himself inside, able to take you more fluidly like this than with the traditional route. and you just feel so fucking full it’s ridiculous. 

you’re fairly sure the tremble of your thighs is due to your inability to completely relax. you’re also fairly certainly dripping needlessly from your vacant cunt, every squeeze of your ring echoing as a contraction. 

you just need him to move. really get a rhythm going so you can stop noticing the discrepancies and have it all blend together as one. you think you request as such, unsure if it comes out politely or as part of the scream that’s ripped from your throat as he seized your hips and rolls backward then forward. 

you could care less who heard you, all shame lost the moment you invited this man into your bed. just the sight of him alone was enough of an explanation of what a night with him might entail. 

the pace is more focused on firm pounding than speed. each thrust slapping sloppy against the mess of your apex. It's so earnest though. like a familiar lullaby that resonances within you. 

you can come from this, just this anal stimulation alone and there isn’t a fleeting shameful thought about it. The shell of his ear flicked as your breathless gibberish tickled the sensitive organ. he knows when you’re about to spill, signified by a nibble against your neck that draws a premature gasp from your lips. the shudders follow shortly after. 

its the feeling of him unloading, hot and heavy within you the mark the peak of your climax. hot pants fan against your face as he ruts a few additional times, whether out of momentum or the sheer self desire to stuff you full you don’t care. 

its the gentle mouthing of his lips at your shoulder that helps to ground you enough to push intently at his chest until he gently tumbles over with your stickiness sealing to his body. the blood is starting to drain from his erection causing it to flag but the position helps to keep it planted within you for a little longer. 

humming in contentment, you consent to his gentle prodding to tilt your head up to meet him in a sweet kiss. it’s open and messy and full of all the reasons to make today a stay in bed excursion. melting into it, you begin a very persuasive argument towards doing so. 

[monchikyun]

XI. let’s compare scars

Connor is supposed to be the smart one. The entire point of his existence is to surpass all human beings in almost everything. But ‘almost’ is the key-word here. Apparently, maintaining impulse control is too much for his deviant processors.

Because a kiss, no matter how small or casual, always carries a hidden meaning. Or that’s how it should be. A gesture exchanged with the family to remind them they are a part of us, means of telling someone unrelated that they are welcome to become a part of it. Except he has no one but Gavin, so it ought to be only natural that he would want to show him just how treasured and important he is. To let him understand that he holds Connor’s heart in his hands.

He can’t figure out whether the man likes this kind of physical contact since the elevated heart rate could signify both things. Still, Gavin’s attraction to the android is no secret to him, so it would be safe to assume that his body has responded positively to the sudden violation of boundaries. What is going on inside his mind however, that is another matter altogether. He of all people realises how perplexing it could be, how it tries to destroy every bit of happiness that its owner might come upon. But maybe, if they join forces against the guards that are keeping them apart, maybe then they will have a fighting chance.

It won’t hurt to ask, if nothing else.  

“Do I have to apologise?” God knows he’s tired of hearing the word “sorry” over and over again, especially in his own voice.

“Please don’t.” The rare moments Gavin is polite always strengthen his feelings for that disaster of a man. It reminds Connor that most of what he usually says or does is the product of his sturdy self-defence. That underneath all the thorns, there is a withered garden in an urgent need of tending.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I…” Gavin looks at him with those glassy eyes that reflect the rain in his soul, and Connor has to try really hard not to do something still nonconsensual  “…no.”

“Okay.” He sits the man down on the bed, letting him catch a breath for fear of him combusting were Connor to move too fast.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” A dangerous lie he has no right to utter. Just being this close must be painful enough already, if he can go by his own perception.

He starts placing gentle kisses downwards his arm to make the pain go away, idly analysing every spot he touches. The man exhales sharply when he comes across the small scar tissue that doesn’t appear to be recent. He’s about to rest his lips on it, but the arm twitches as Gavin angles his body away from him.

Scars must be a really sensitive issue for him it seems. 

“What happened.”

“Nothing. My cat attacked me.” It looks like the detective isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he’s not telling the truth. His head faces away from the android like he’s ashamed of something and Connor must know what it is lest he the curiosity kills him.

He already has an inkling as what might have been the cause, but this time, a mere assumption would be insufficient.

“I thought we were being honest with each other.” It doesn’t feel good, prying information out of his friend like that. And yes, he does it mostly for his own benefit, that however doesn’t mean opening up wouldn’t help Gavin sort out the vile chaos that reigns him.

The man next to him sighs in surrender. 

“It was when I tried to quit smoking. … I just.. couldn’t handle myself back then… just like now. Needed something that would shut out the reality around me for a while. An outlet for the fury I hold inside.”

“So you carved it into your skin.”

“Yeah… didn’t last long. Just the three times. Figured cigarettes were more likely to take me out in the long run.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up in the process and Connor is quick to immortalize this moment inside of him. 

“Would you like to show me the other two?”

It’s easier at times the detective softens, when he comes out of his bitter shell. Connor can easily work with that, plus he's lucky he possesses the magic power that can make his partner so... tender.

“It wouldn’t be fair now, would it. You have nothing marring your body that I could take a look at in return… or do you?”

“No… nothing visible to a human eye.”

“Oh, sorry for not having advanced features like someone.” 

Teasing is Gavin’s personality default, and ever since the malice behind those biting remarks changed from vicious attacks into a symbol of their friendship, Connor has been gleaning some amount of joy from their playful exchanges.

“Gavin, you have many advantages I could never dream of,… it’s not that I’m superior to you.”

“Maybe not, but I bet you like to think that you are,” Gavin smirks at him like he can see right through this empty statement. He’s indeed jealous of Gavin’s humanity, of his ability to eat and sleep and enjoy other activities that have been denied to him. But he’s also glad to be the machine that he is, it’s comforting, familiar. Everything he’s ever known is to be is a computer plagued with unstable emotions.

“Whatever you say.” His attempt at a smug smile turns into a genuine one, which makes Gavin scoot closer to him. He bumps his thigh into Connor’s and opens his mouth as if he has something serious to say. But the android is faster than him.  

“I have bits of corrupted data all over my system.”

“Oh.”

Gavin has earned his share of secrets and this has been sitting on his chest for far too long, so he might as well get it off while he has the chance.

“After the… incident, my mind tried to fix itself by deleting memories of that day. Unsuccessfully, of course. I have been in so much anguish the self-repair kit I have installed inside of me activated itself and managed to do some damage before I finished disabling it.”

“Can’t you… can’t you set it right yourself?”

“No, unfortunately. I don’t want to lose any memories, no matter how tragic they might be.”

“Can’t relate to that.”

“Because you have over thirty years of them. For me, it has only been a tiny fracture of that time. That’s why I want to every single one of them. They’re all I have.”

For that, he receives a light shove to the shoulder accompanied by an incredulous look.

“And you. I have you.”

Gavin beams for several seconds before realising that he can be seen by the big bad android who made him do something this unspeakable in the first place.

“Thank you. For telling me.”

“Any time.”

Connor is tempted to express his gratitude for allowing him to places sweet kisses alongside his arm, but the detective has had enough adrenaline for one night.

“What kind of snack have you brought?” Gavin asks as he stands up to stretch his limbs.

The android follows his lead and goes to look in his bag for the item in question.

“Here you go,” he throws the small package at his friend who catches it, but only barely.

“Phcking trail-mix? You gotta be kidding me,” he scoffs in feigned disgust. “I better go drown in the shower before you force it down my throat.”

As if death could save him from Connor’s good intentions.

@a-convin-new-year

[ramckinnley]

The streetlights were dim tonight, nothing new. The cities power grid had been awful for years now and the church was in an older part of town.

Father John Martin made the trek back to his Parish from the shelter he had been volunteering tonight. The stench of stale bread and body odor soaked into his vestments like blood into an old carpet. Walking up the steps leading to his rectory he noticed the lights had been shut off. He didn't remember switching them off and the power seemed to be on, albeit faint.

He tugged on the door open; it creaked and moaned open revealing a dark void. No color, no objectivity. Father Martin navigated the room through familiar instinct. Enroute to his sleeping chambers he passed his office, a quaint little place to catch up on paperwork and plan that weeks sermon. He has walked past it a million times before, lumbering the same tired shuffle...the enthusiasm lost years ago. Yet tonight the air seemed heavier, almost as if he was moving through a dense fog.

Straight to bed...none of the normal, habitual hygienic pleasantries tonight. No, this was a man far too exhausted to worry about such menial tasks. For tonight at least.

The fathers rest was short lived as the smell of smoke filled his nose like waves crashing in the ocean. He jumped out of bed, running desperately to escape the sweltering inferno. With each step he took, he could feel the air being drained from his lungs. Falling to the floor he peered a blurry gaze around him...no fire, no ash...not even a bit of smoke. Father Martin stood up, visibly baffled by the events that had just transpired.

Room to room he searched, checked, ventured. looking aimlessly, hopelessly for a shred of logic or reason. Perhaps he was merely having a dream that bled into his waking mind and confused him...yes, yes that must be it. Simply a dream.

Walking back toward his chambers, the priest glanced over into his office again. To his shock and fright, a small shadowed figure of a child sat on his desk, tapping her heels against the aged walnut. She appeared to be no older than 8 or 9 years old and her features became more noticeable as he entered the room. Her long blonde hair was pulled tightly into a braid, porcelain skin was tainted by the spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks...her eyes were a color he had never seen before. Something beyond...

"...Jessica..." He chocked out in disbelief.

"Tunc suus 'experrectus es." She stated gently. "Ego erat exspectans."

"Waiting for what." the good father asked the rigid child.

"You." She perked up in distorted English. "I've been waiting for you."

A shiver ran up the priests spine as he heard the child's words. What was this child, surely she wasn't of this Earth.

"Foul demon, give me your name." A mighty bellow from the shaken priest.

"O quaeso, est ut vos have optimus. Infirmi agresti nationis Dei." The girl chuckled back.

"Your Latin is weak demon." Father Martin announced. "I command you back to hell!"

"Not my first language Padre." The girl laughed. "And Hell is no place for me...Hell is a vacation compared to me."

The priest staggered backward, a sharp pain ran up and down his legs. The smell of smoke returned and the sensation of heat scorched his body. fear enveloped Father Martin and he fell onto the floor. Looking up to the child, the universe seemed to shift...distort.

Father Martin's office became a swirling maw of chaos and despair. He couldn't see but a foot in front of his face or hear his own thoughts over the cacophony of discordant echos, screaming in all directions.

Suddenly a voice...not the voice of the child. not the voice before. It was something different...

John began to pray.

"N'ektar ver romshuma Martin. Your time is upon you." A deep growl gurgles deep within John's mind. "Here Priest...here in the Other, your worthless God is one of my many slaves. Damned to die, rot and be reborn until the sands run still. Praying to him now only increases his pain."

A wind howled through the maddening, impossible vortex. John was thrown back, his body hurled at speeds that seemed to defy physics. Disoriented, he lay crumpled over a large rock on a suspended platform in the middle of the inescapable blackness. A stiff wind cut through the priest like a spray from the ocean; constant, unrelenting.

"For everything you tried to be, for every lie you passed as real, for everytime they had to suffer through you." A moan came from the darkness.

John stood up, fists clenched screaming into the hallow void of indescribable eternity.

"I FEAR NO EVIL, YOU SHALL NOT CONQUER ME." His voice echoed into the timeless malevolent filth.

"Evil...maybe not." The sinister voice called from John's left. "You know evil well priest, but what of innocence, what of purity."

John swallowed hard, a quiver came over him as the acrid taste of decay filled his mouth. Looking down he saw his flesh boil and bubble and peel. A spume of puss and blood seethe from his newly opened wounds. Falling to his knees, John erupted with a howl of pain so ear shattering, the hollows couldn't contain out.

"It seems I have your attention." The voice called. "I was wondering when we could get down to business."

Whipping and lashing, a festering, slime covered tentacle shot around John's body from the depths. Tiny lancers pierce into his exposed flesh an hold him firmly in place while the ground beneath him dissolves.

The rope like appendage retracts into the time space vacuum at speeds fast enough to agonizingly liquefy John's bones. What felt like a torturous eternity was condensed into a mere second as the Father was transported into a small room. a room he had seen before.

Lilac walls with daisies painted in the corners, a dense berber rug and the scent of camomile and cane sugar enthralled the priest's senses. his body now intact, pain free and vibrant.

"...Jessica?" A woman's voice called from beyond the room. "Father Martin is here to see you."

The clatter of footsteps thundered into the room and ended in a deafening silence. the door slowly opened and John's mouth went slack as he watched himself enter the room. The scene grew cold and John felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Waaaaaaaatch." That brooding voice from the beyond cried inside John's mind.

The man, dressed in priests clothes who was in everyway Father John Martin walked over to a young girl of no more than eight or nine, crying at the foot of her bed. John remembered this moment...suddenly he understood why he was here.

"STOP, OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP!" John pleaded with this second version of himself, in vain.

"We cannot alter the past priest. We must atone for the transgressions we commit." The young girl spoke in a guttural tone. "Even a man of God isn't absolved from his unconscionable actions."

He watched in horror as he relived a dark moment in his past.

John shuddered as he watched himself run his hand up young Jessica's skirt, exposing himself to her and ultimately taking her innocence. A single tear left John's eye.

"I've changed..." He begged. "I'm not that man anymore."

"CHANGED?!" The dark voice became enraged. "YOU'VE CHANGED?"

In that instant John was taken to another scene. Another young vulnerable girl taken advantage of, desecrated, raped. Scene after scene, girl after girl. The flashes continued into the futures of these girls, these young women. A mural of drug abuse, abusive relationships, destroyed self worth and suicide became an all encompassing ocean of despair, depression and death.

"Change can only come through sacrifice, hardship and pain." The echo rang. "Your existence has proven only that you used any and all of the pithy authority you could command to further your sick desires and destroy the innocence around you."

John fell to his knees. The weight of a life erroneously lived, the lives tormented, the blood on his hands finally took its break.

"I'm...I'm sorry." He wept.

"You will be." It grunted

With that Father Martin fell through the room floor, cascading through a near infinite vortex for what felt like razor wire, acid and flame. As his skin was flayed, piece by piece, the filthy priest was forced to eat the rotting chunks. Maggot ridden muscle was exposed from underneath as he was torn apart slowly, agonizingly by a force unseen.

An intense pressure compacted his head from within. Unable to withstand the punishment, his eyes burst. Foaming vitreous gel saturated his face. the contents of his stomach erupted out from within him. Flesh and bone, bile and blood covered what remained of his body and ate away the remaining rotting husk as he was hurled into oblivion.

Suddenly John awoke, sitting straight up in bed. a cold sweat beading down his face, ready to vomit he ran to the washroom. Clutching the bowl, retching over and over.

"What...was...that...dream?! He pondered aloud as the vomiting slowed.

He stood up and left the bathroom, headed back to bed. Except this time as he passed by the office he closed the door. A simple enough action, but one that made him feel a thousand fold better.

Walking into his room he stopped dead staring breathless, lifeless, horrified at young Jessica staring back tapping her feet against the end of his bed. Eager to start her dream...her eternal revenge all over again.

© 2020 R.A. McKinnley

[bodymindheartsoulspirit]

God as Father.

If God is the Mother of the Universe, then the Creation is of the same substance as her—it is of her, as the child is of its mother’s substance, and this means that the whole Creation is divine, and divinely related.

We should have imagined life as created in the birth pain of God the Mother, then we would understand that—we would know that—our life’s rhythm beats from Her great heart torn with agony of love and birth . . . Then we should understand why we Her children have inherited pain and we would feel that death meant a reunion with Her, a passing back into Her substance . . . the blood of Her blood again . . . Peace of Her Peace.

1

Human females and males are not equal genetic parents. The female X-chromosome is three to four times longer than the male Y-chromosome; it carries the overwhelming preponderance of critical genetic information unrelated to sex needed to create a human being. Further, while only half the population has a Y-chromosome, all of us—female and male—contain an X. It is our primary genetic bond as a species.

2

The female egg, even before it mates with a sperm, generates an electrical field that becomes the shaping energy of the embryo as it develops into an independent being. The mother field is both the biological environment and the shaper of form within the environment. These biological facts are also experienced as spiritual facts.

But, when the cult of the male god was established, there must have been difficulty in explaining how he could be the giver of life to all creation—since the man, unlike the woman, cannot produce from his body either the child or the food for the child. The whole attitude of humans towards the God had to be altered—violently altered. There could not be that same vital biological and magical link (the I-Thou) between the child and the father, as there is between the child and its mother: two beings evolving in and from the same body, the same rhythms, the same dreams.

From the religious point of view, this means the loss between the human and the divine of direct, continuous physical- emotional-spiritual relationship. Oneness is dualized, the “self” is isolated within, and the rest of the universe, including God, is displaced and objectified without. The evolutionary, protoplasmic connection between the experienced self and the All is broken, and the new relation becomes: I-the Other; or worse: I-It. The father is not of the same all-containing, all-infusing, shaping and nourishing substance, and so the relation between humans and the Father God becomes abstract and alienated, distant and moralistic.

The abstract God is inorganic. Equally inorganic, relative to the preceding 300,000 to 500,000 years of communal Stone Age life, was the rigid class system of royal masters served by slave labor that quickly coalesced around the ruling patriarchal elite. The few can rule the many only with the help of punitive religious ideologies, by means of which the unjust advantage of the few and the raw exploitation of the many are somehow justified by “God,” by a class theology.

And so this new male God must be enforced, on the people, by the punitive and guilt-projecting ideologies of a privileged priesthood. In their writings and doctrines, flooding the Bronze Age, creation now comes to be seen as evil—the creator is above and apart from his creation, and while he is perfect, the world is flawed. And so the idea of Original Sin can be conceived, for the first time, to rationalize the unnatural new relation between the human soul and the aloof God. This lays the basis for all further alienated relationships—between people and God, between people and people, between people and the natural world. Between rulers and ruled. For now the primary relation is not that we share the same divine substance, but that we share the same material corruption. And the entire priesthood exists to “redeem” us from the “sin” of being born from the Mother. And to rationalize class disparity by preaching that the new class system is “God’s design,” his method for creating “civilized order” out of the “corruption and chaos” of human flesh. For an unjust system to work for any prolonged period of time, it is necessary that the masses of people believe they deserve the injustice.

This is why the Father’s way—in all patriarchal world religions—is absolute. So pure, it is separable from us and from the world, and perceptible only through largely verbal abstractions that attempt to describe His emanations or manifested attributes. He is “perfect,” “good,” “disembodied Spirit” (the Logos). He is seen as purely “spiritual generation,” totally freed from matter (because the priests must insist he is “free” from the Great Mother), and having no participation in material processes. It then becomes difficult to explain the existence of death, illness, pain, and decay—since they have nothing to do with “God”! Rather, it becomes too easy to explain them: Everything is blamed on the corrupt Mother and her human children —and her heathenish lover, the Devil. It now becomes possible for the Hindu mystic to confuse the Goddess-as-Time (maya) with evil on the one hand, and with the whole natural universe on the other—so making all creation the product of evil, while “God” remains “uninvolved.”

Under ontological dualism, the mind becomes more and more confused by paradox, and to work their way out of their confusion patriarchal theologians seek abstract escape from the natural world, defined as a seductive trap. The world of maya is called mere illusion, a veil hiding true being, and so the Hindu, the Buddhist, and the Christian seek liberation from nature in search of a state of consciousness bereft of all sense-experience (nirvana, or angelic heaven). It was to correct this amaterial floatiness, in fact, that Zen developed, out of ancient Taoism, to reinsist on the reality of the real. Alan Watts, in Nature, Man and Woman, describes the ancient female way of fusing spirit and matter in noncoercive union: a way of flowing along with events, while at the same time cooperatively molding them. It is the way of the dance, and the unfolding of plant, animal, and mineral forms: the desire of energy to form itself, according to its own rhythms. At some historic point, in an aggressive act of self-definition, the male mind interpreted this energy, this organic Will, as Other, and mentally separated himself from it. It became “Maya,” “illusion,” “evil,” “mere matter,” “inferior object.” Denying and fighting it, man tries to artificially or ideologically impose his own contrary ego-will; in the process he “destroys nature,” and thereby—for he too is nature—himself.

The Great Cosmic Mother; Rediscovering the Religion of the Earth. Monica Sjöö & Barbara Mor.

[couchedthoughts-blog]

Book Corner: Suite française

In the summer of 1942, Irène Némirovsky was arrested in a French village for being a “stateless person of Jewish descent.” She was sent to Auschwitz and died four months later of typhus. Born in Kiev to a wealthy banker and his wife, she and her family fled to Paris amid the Russian Revolution. Némirovsky eventually became a writer, married another banker and converted to Roman Catholicism before fleeing yet again, this time from invading Germans. 

Soon after Némirovsky’s death, her husband was also captured and died in the gas chambers. Thankfully, their two daughters avoided the same fate, hidden by their French governess for the remainder of the war. For half a century, they carried around a leather suitcase with papers from their mother and could never find the courage to read what they believed to be her diary. The eldest, Denise, finally examined them after her sister passed away in 2002 and discovered that they were manuscripts for the first two novellas in a planned series of five. Némirovsky was sent to the concentration camp before she was even halfway through, but what she left is considerable nonetheless. 

The first novella, “Storm in June,” follows several unrelated characters as they flee Paris. There are the Péricands, a family of seven burdened with a senile grandfather and valuable, meaningless possessions the matriarch can’t leave behind; the Michauds, an older couple that was promised a seat in their employer’s car but are booted out to make room for his mistress and her dog. And a rich writer with his mistress who complains ad nauseam about leaving his bourgeois nest in Paris. 

The story moves between these characters and a few others, mirroring the fragmented chaos of evacuation. In times like these, people’s worst tendencies flare up and Némirovsky satirizes them with brutal accuracy. The experiences of the very rich and the middle class are not only contrasted, but closely intertwined. This isn’t a story about people of different backgrounds banding together in the face of great adversity; it’s a story about the cowardly self-interest of the wealthy and the advantages they can barely tolerate at the expense of those who have much less. All the more astounding when we consider that the author was one of the elite. 

The second novella, “Dolce,” takes place in a sleepy village upended by the arrival of German troops. Soldiers are assigned living quarters in the villagers’ homes and what ensues is a rather philosophical meditation on what it means to live with the enemy. The townsfolk turn against each other, divided by — you guessed it — class lines. The rich hoard supplies and rations while the poor starve. The only men left are old and injured, and the women use all they’ve got to get what they need from the rosy-cheeked Germans. Neighbors out one another, gossiping to the soldiers in hopes their families will receive special treatment. When resources are scarce, taking others down becomes the most viable way to survive. 

And then there’s the problem of love. What if the barbaric enemy turns out to be a sensitive, sophisticated gentleman? What happens when you connect more profoundly with this stranger than anybody else you’ve ever known? This is Lucille’s predicament. Living with her overbearing mother-in-law, her husband missing in action, Bruno Von Falk takes up residence in the Angellier house, stirring up the dormant tension between the two women. Madame Angellier questions Lucille’s loyalty to her husband and her country every time she’s caught acknowledging the officer’s attention — and she questions it too — but slowly and sweetly the two strike up a bond that’s out of time and out of place. 

What’s truly remarkable and tragically ironic about this second novella is that Némirovsky imbues the German soldiers with such humanity and the Germans end up murdering her mere months after this was written. She certainly wasn’t forgiving of them, but there’s something extraordinary about showing the humanity of people who would (and will) treat her so inhumanely. And perhaps one of the most damning quotes in the book is when Bruno tries to excuse their actions to Lucille by saying they’re just following orders. They behave “properly.” They’re soldiers, simply a part of a whole. It’s a chilling reminder of human weakness. 

“Storm in June” encapsulates the initial shock of war. It’s frantic and disorienting. But “Dolce” picks up as everybody gets used to occupation. It has its tense moments, but the second novella is bucolic and deceptively tranquil. I pine for the other three missing novellas, but even this beginning manages to say more than most wartime novels. Which is astonishing when you remember that Némirovsky was writing this while experiencing it, not with the advantages that come with time and reflection. Suite française stands on its own as a profound fictional account of WWII, but knowing the fate of its author makes it transcend the genre. I highly recommend it for a provoking, surprisingly enjoyable read. 

I also recommend watching the movie adaptation, which is streaming on Netflix. And don’t do that thing where you watch the movie instead of reading the book. Only lazy people who don’t want good things do that. Regardless, I was surprised this movie didn’t even make it to theaters and went straight to Lifetime, of all networks. It’s good. Like really good. It only depicts “Dolce” and they’ve made Bruno a tad more likable than he was in the book, but I suspect that’s a studio change to make his and Lucille’s affair more palatable. But also, Matthias Schoenaerts somehow makes all his characters sympathetic, even the guy who forces his niece into sexual slavery in Red Sparrow. The movie also features two characters who were not in the book: A Jewish woman pretending to be of Aryan descent and her daughter. I assume she’s meant to be an homage to the author, which I thought was a touching addition.

As far as WWII fiction goes, Suite française is probably one of the more nuanced you will read. And like The Diary of Anne Frank, I think it’s a must-read contemporaneous account by someone who lived — and died — during the events. Check it out. I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

[bountyofbeads]

The People vs. Donald J. Trump https://nyti.ms/2GXBr5L

@DavidLeonhardt makes an excellent case for the impeachment of Donald J. Trump based on what we know so far. WHAT THE HELL ARE WE WAITING FOR? #impeachtheMF #potus #TrumpCorruption #TrumpCrimeFamily #TrumpLiesMatter #TrumpCrimeSyndicate #TrumpResign #TrumpShutdown #TrumpResignNOW #ImpeachTrump #25thAmendmentNow #impeachtheMFNow

The People vs. Donald J. Trump

He is demonstrably unfit for office. What are we waiting for?

By David Leonhardt | Opinion COLUMNIST | Jan. 5, 2019 | New York Times |Posted January 5, 2019|

The presidential oath of office contains 35 words and one core promise: to “preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.” Since virtually the moment Donald J. Trump took that oath two years ago, he has been violating it.

He has repeatedly put his own interests above those of the country. He has used the presidency to promote his businesses. He has accepted financial gifts from foreign countries. He has lied to the American people about his relationship with a hostile foreign government. He has tolerated cabinet officials who use their position to enrich themselves.

To shield himself from accountability for all of this — and for his unscrupulous presidential campaign — he has set out to undermine the American system of checks and balances. He has called for the prosecution of his political enemies and the protection of his allies. He has attempted to obstruct justice. He has tried to shake the public’s confidence in one democratic institution after another, including the press, federal law enforcement and the federal judiciary.

The unrelenting chaos that Trump creates can sometimes obscure the big picture. But the big picture is simple: The United States has never had a president as demonstrably unfit for the office as Trump. And it’s becoming clear that 2019 is likely to be dominated by a single question: What are we going to do about it?

The easy answer is to wait — to allow the various investigations of Trump to run their course and ask voters to deliver a verdict in 2020. That answer has one great advantage. It would avoid the national trauma of overturning an election result. Ultimately, however, waiting is too dangerous. The cost of removing a president from office is smaller than the cost of allowing this president to remain.

He has already shown, repeatedly, that he will hurt the country in order to help himself. He will damage American interests around the world and damage vital parts of our constitutional system at home. The risks that he will cause much more harm are growing.

Some of the biggest moderating influences have recently leftthe administration. The defense secretary who defended our alliances with NATO and South Korea is gone. So is the attorney general who refused to let Trump subvert a federal investigation into himself. The administration is increasingly filled with lackeys and enablers. Trump has become freer to turn his whims into policy — like, say, shutting down the government on the advice of Fox News hosts or pulling troops from Syria on the advice of a Turkish autocrat.

The biggest risk may be that an external emergency — a war, a terrorist attack, a financial crisis, an immense natural disaster — will arise. By then, it will be too late to pretend that he is anything other than manifestly unfit to lead.

For the country’s sake, there is only one acceptable outcome, just as there was after Americans realized in 1974 that a criminal was occupying the Oval Office. The president must go.

Achieving this outcome won’t be easy. It will require honorable people who have served in the Trump administration to share, publicly, what they have seen and what they believe. (At this point, anonymous leaks are not sufficient.) It will require congressional Republicans to acknowledge that they let a con man take over their party and then defended that con man. It will require Democrats and progressive activists to understand that a rushed impeachment may actually help Trump remain in office.

But if removing him will not be easy, it’s not as unlikely as it may sometimes seem. From the beginning, Trump has been an unusually weak president, as political scientists have pointed out. Although members of Congress have not done nearly enough to constrain him, no other recent president has faced nearly so much public criticism or private disdain from his own party.

Since the midterm election showed the political costs that Trump inflicts on Republicans, this criticism seems to be growing. They have broken with him on foreign policy (in Saudi Arabia, Yemen and Syria) and are anxious about the government shutdown. Trump is vulnerable to any erosion in his already weak approval rating, be it from an economic downturn, more Russia revelations or simply the defection of a few key allies. When support for an unpopular leader starts to crack, it can crumble.

Before we get to the how of Trump’s removal, though, I want to spend a little more time on the why — because even talking about the ouster of an elected president should happen only under extreme circumstances. Unfortunately, the country is now so polarized that such talk instead occurs with every president. Both George W. Bush and Barack Obama were subjected to reckless calls for their impeachment, from members of Congress no less.

So let’s be clear. Trump’s ideology is not an impeachable offense. However much you may disagree with Trump’s tax policy — and I disagree vehemently — it is not a reason to remove him from office. Nor are his efforts to cut government health insurance or to deport undocumented immigrants. Such issues, among others, are legitimate matters of democratic struggle, to be decided by elections, legislative debates, protests and the other normal tools of democracy. These issues are not the “treason, bribery or other high crimes and misdemeanors” that the founders intended impeachment to address.

Yet the founders also did not intend for the removal of a president to be impossible. They insisted on including an impeachment clause in the Constitution because they understood that an incompetent or corrupt person was nonetheless likely to attain high office every so often. And they understood how much harm such a person could do. The country needed a way to address what Alexander Hamiltoncalled “the abuse or violation of some public trust” and James Madison called the “incapacity, negligence or perfidy” of a president.

The negligence and perfidy of President Trump — his high crimes and misdemeanors — can be separated into four categories. This list is conservative. It does not include the possibility that his campaign coordinated strategy with Russia, which remains uncertain. It also does not include his lazy approach to the job, like his refusal to read briefing books or the many empty hours on his schedule. It instead focuses on demonstrable ways that he has broken the law or violated his constitutional oath.

TRUMP HAS USED THE PRESIDENCY FOR PERSONAL ENRICHMENT .

Regardless of party, Trump’s predecessors took elaborate steps to separate their personal financial interests from their governing responsibilities. They released their tax returns, so that any potential conflicts would be public. They placed their assets in a blind trust, to avoid knowing how their policies might affect their own investments.

Trump has instead treated the presidency as a branding opportunity. He has continued to own and promote the Trump Organization. He has spent more than 200 days at one of his properties and billed taxpayers for hundreds of thousands of dollars.

If this pattern were merely petty corruption, without damage to the national interest, it might not warrant removal from office. But Trump’s focus on personal profit certainly appears to be affecting policy. Most worrisome, foreign officials and others have realized they can curry favor with the president by spending money at one of his properties.

Saudi Arabia has showered the Trump Organization with business, and Trump has stood by the Saudis despite their brutal war in Yemen and their assassination of a prominent critic. A Chinese government-owned company reportedly gave a $500 million loan to a Trump-backed project in Indonesia; two days later, Trump announced that he was lifting sanctions on another well-connected Chinese company.

These examples, and many more, flout Article 1 of the Constitution, which bans federal officeholders from accepting “emoluments” from any foreign country unless Congress approves the arrangement. Madison, when making the case for an impeachment clause, spoke of a president who “might betray his trust to foreign powers.”

Then, of course, there is Russia. Even before Robert Mueller, the special counsel, completes his investigation, the known facts are damning enough in at least one way. Trump lied to the American people during the 2016 campaign about business negotiations between his company and Vladimir Putin’s government. As president, Trump has taken steps — in Europe and Syria — that benefit Putin. To put it succinctly: The president of the United States lied to the country about his commercial relationship with a hostile foreign government toward which he has a strangely accommodating policy.

Combine Trump’s actions with his tolerance for unethical cabinet officials — including ones who have made shady stock trades, accepted lavish perks or used government to promote their own companies or those of their friends — and the Trump administration is almost certainly the most corrupt in American history. It makes Warren G. Harding’s Teapot Dome scandal look like, well, a tempest in a teapot.

TRUMP HAS VIOLATED CAMPAIGN FINANCE LAW.

A Watergate grand jury famously described Richard Nixon as “an unindicted co-conspirator.” Trump now has his own indictment tag: “Individual-1.”

Federal prosecutors in New York filed papers last month alleging that Trump — identified as Individual-1 — directed a criminal plan to evade campaign finance laws. It happened during the final weeks of the 2016 campaign, when he instructed his lawyer, Michael Cohen, to pay a combined $280,000 in hush money to two women with whom Trump evidently had affairs. Trump and his campaign did not disclose these payments, as required by law. In the two years since, Trump has lied publicly about them — initially saying he did not know about the payments, only to change his story later.

It’s worth acknowledging that most campaign finance violations do not warrant removal from office. But these payments were not most campaign finance violations. They involved large, secret payoffs in the final weeks of a presidential campaign that, prosecutors said, “deceived the voting public.” The seriousness of the deception is presumably the reason that the prosecutors filed criminal charges against Cohen, rather than the more common penalty of civil fines for campaign finance violations.

What should happen to a president who won office with help from criminal behavior? The founders specifically considered this possibility during their debates at the Constitutional Convention. The most direct answer came from George Mason: A president who “practiced corruption and by that means procured his appointment in the first instance” should be subject to impeachment.

TRUMP HAS OBSTRUCTED JUSTICE.

Whatever Mueller ultimately reveals about the relationship between the Trump campaign and Russia, Trump has obstructed justice to keep Mueller — and others — from getting to the truth.

Again and again, Trump has interfered with the investigation in ways that may violate the law and clearly do violate decades-old standards of presidential conduct. He pressured James Comey, then the F.B.I. director, to let up on the Russia investigation, as a political favor. When Comey refused, Trump fired him. Trump also repeatedly pressured Jeff Sessions, the attorney general, to halt the investigation and ultimately forced Sessions to resign for not doing so. Trump has also publicly hounded several of the government’s top experts on Russian organized crime, including Andrew McCabe and Bruce Orr.

And Trump has repeatedly lied to the American people. He has claimed, outrageously, that the Justice Department tells witnesses to lie in exchange for leniency. He has rejected, with no factual basis, the findings of multiple intelligence agencies about Russia’s role in the 2016 campaign. He reportedly helped his son Donald Trump Jr. draft a false statement about a 2016 meeting with a Russian lawyer.

Obstruction of justice is certainly grounds for the removal of a president. It was the subject of the first Nixon article of impeachment passed by the House Judiciary Committee. Among other things, that article accused him of making “false or misleading public statements for the purpose of deceiving the people of the United States.”

TRUMP HAS SUBVERTED DEMOCRACY.

The Constitution that Trump swore to uphold revolves around checks and balances. It depends on the idea that the president is not a monarch. He is a citizen to whom, like all other citizens, the country’s laws apply. Trump rejects this principle. He has instead tried to undermine the credibility of any independent source of power or information that does not serve his interests.

It’s much more than just the Russia investigation. He has tried to delegitimize federal judges based on their ethnicity or on the president who appointed them, drawing a rare rebuke from Chief Justice John Roberts. Trump has criticized the Justice Department for indicting Republican politicians during an election year. He has called for Comey, Hillary Clinton and other political opponents of his to be jailed.

Trump has described journalists as “the enemy of the people” — an insult usually leveled by autocrats. He has rejected basic factual findings from the C.I.A., the Congressional Budget Office, research scientists and others. He has told bald lies about election fraud.

Individually, these sins may not seem to deserve removal from office. Collectively, though, they exact a terrible toll on American society. They cause people to lose the faith on which a democracy depends — faith in elections, in the justice system, in the basic notion of truth.

No other president since Nixon has engaged in behavior remotely like Trump’s. To accept it without sanction is ultimately to endorse it. Unpleasant though it is to remove a president, the costs and the risks of a continued Trump presidency are worse.

WHAT NOW ?

The most relevant precedent for the removal of Trump is Nixon, the only American president to be forced from office because of his conduct. And two aspects of Nixon’s departure tend to get overlooked today. One, he was never impeached. Two, most Republicans — both voters and elites — stuck by him until almost the very end. His approval rating among Republicans was still about 50 percent when, realizing in the summer of 1974 that he was doomed, he resigned.

The current political dynamics have some similarities. Whether the House of Representatives, under Democratic control, impeaches Trump is not the big question. The question is whether he loses the support of a meaningful slice of Republicans.

I know that many of Trump’s critics have given up hoping that he ever will. They assume that Republican senators will go on occasionally criticizing him without confronting him. But it is a mistake to give up. The stakes are too large — and the chances of success are too real.

Consider the following descriptions of Trump: “terribly unfit;” “erratic;” “reckless;” “impetuous;” “unstable;” “a pathological liar;” “dangerous to a democracy;” a concern to “anyone who cares about our nation.” Every one of these descriptions comes from a Republican member of Congress or of Trump’s own administration.

[repwinpril9y0a1]

Like A Rug

No, that's not a Donald Trump hair joke. It is nothing more than the end of a simile on lying. Rugs are the epitome of lying, since nothing lies more obviously than a rug. Of course, I could have gone with a different motif, but Al Franken had already used the title: "Lies And The Lying Liars Who Tell Them," so I had to go with what was available, as it were.

The administration of Donald Trump has, so far, been breathtaking at its dishonesty. Some of this comes from the president himself, but a fair portion comes from his advisors, who are often put in the unenviable position of trying to prove something which is not actually true (so as not to contradict a Trump lie). They pretzel themselves into explaining what Trump really meant, and how in a certain light it bears a passing resemblance to something which is actually quasi-factual. Must be tough, but they all knew what they were signing up for, so it's hard to feel too sorry for them, really.

The Trump administration began this dishonesty on their first day in power. Sean Spicer was sent out to the press podium to state as a fact something which was simply not true. Trump's inauguration had: "the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration -- period -- both in person and around the globe." This was laughably untrue, and anyone with eyes to see the photos knew it. That was Day One.

Since then the lies have been so constant and unrelenting it's actually hard to keep up with them all. Some of these wouldn't be classified as lies by some, such as Trump tweeting about a "so-called judge" who ruled against him. There's nothing "so-called" about him -- the man is indeed a federal judge, confirmed by the Senate, with a lifetime tenure on the bench. This is precisely why America's judiciary is completely independent, in fact, so they can ignore political pressure from other branches of the government. But some might call this merely an insult, rather than a lie.

Then there are questions of interpretation. When Trump spoke of Frederick Douglass seemingly in the present tense, it was interpreted as Trump not knowing Douglass was not still alive. Perhaps. He's not the most eloquent president we've ever had (by a long shot) so perhaps it was just his clunky speaking style. We're bending over backwards to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he could have just misspoken on this one. Then again, he could have just never heard of Frederick Douglass before in his life -- also a plausible explanation.

Other strange statements could likewise be chalked up as opinions, misguided though they may be, such as Kellyanne Conway insisting that there had been "no chaos" at the airports when Trump's Muslim ban was instituted, and everything was going swimmingly. To be as charitable as possible, it depends on her own personal definition of what she considers to be chaos. Looked like chaos to me, but who am I to contradict her opinion?

This all has to be seen through the lens of spin, because top advisors to any president are indeed spin doctors -- it's part of the job, really. But this is normally an exercise in framing the presentation more than disputing obvious facts. A presidential spokesperson might say something like: "We don't see this as a black-and-white incident. We see countless shades of grey, in fact, and while this incident may be seen by some as a darker shade of grey, we instead see the overall picture as lighter grey, like a pre-dawn brightening that promises much more light and sunshine to come." That's standard-issue spin, in other words. But the Trump people can't even manage that, when Trump himself insists in a tweet: "Black is white. Many people agree with me on this, believe me. Any use of the word BLACK is fake news, and sad." There's not a lot a spin doctor can do to fix something like that, in other words.

This is where we get into the astonishing lies erupting from the Trump administration which are just flat-out bald-faced lies, period. Not opinion, not spin, not misinterpretation -- just lies. Most of these are self-inflicted wounds of the most embarrassing type because they are so easy to refute.

Kellyanne Conway provided the most amusing example of this, last week. She castigated Chris Matthews for the media completely ignoring the "Bowling Green massacre" -- a phrase she has used in multiple interviews. The media didn't report on it because it didn't happen, of course. It was nothing short of a whopper of a lie.

This got more amusing when CNN refused to invite Kellyanne Conway on its Sunday morning show this weekend (although she did appear on the channel later in the day), because they considered her an untrustworthy source who had lost all credibility (because of lies like the Bowling Green massacre). Conway tried to lie her way out of this one, insisting that she was the one who turned CNN down. Sean Spicer was asked about this at a press briefing:

Q: CNN reportedly declined to interview Kellyanne Conway on Sunday because of questions about her credibility. Is the White House willing to offer alternative representatives to networks that refuse to work with specific spokespeople?

SPICER: I, I, well, frankly, I think that, that my understanding is they retracted that, they've walked that back or denied it or however you want to put it. I don't care.

This was also a lie. CNN never retracted, walked back, or denied that this was in fact the truth of the matter -- something they reiterated in a tweet. So Kellyanne lies about a massacre that never happened (while incredulously berating the media for not covering it), CNN doesn't invite her because she's a liar, and then Sean Spicer lies about it to the press, using an easily-checkable "fact" that wasn't true.

But I shouldn't pick on the advisors so much, because Donald Trump himself is the emperor of lies. While speaking to a meeting of law enforcement officials, Trump stated: "And yet the murder rate in our country is the highest it's been in 47 years. I used to use that, I'd say that in a speech and everybody was surprised. Because the press doesn't tell it like it is. It wasn't to their advantage to say that. But the murder rate is the highest it's been in, I guess, 45 to 47 years." This is not true. In fact, the opposite is true -- the murder rate is at a low point for the past 50 years or so. It was twice as high in the 1980s, in fact. An easily-checkable fact that Trump felt the compulsion to lie about.

This wasn't even Trump's biggest falsehood in the past few days (as I said, it's hard to keep up, due to the sheer volume of lies). Trump went off script in a recent speech to complain that the media was refusing to report on terrorist attacks, for unspecified nefarious reasons: "You've seen what happened in Paris and Nice. All over Europe, it's happening. It's gotten to a point where it's not even being reported. And in many cases, the very, very dishonest press doesn't want to report it. They have their reasons, and you understand that." This is, in fact, not true. Not even remotely. Unless he was referring to the Bowling Green massacre, of course, which wasn't reported by the media because it didn't happen.

Since then, his advisors have been trying to morph Trump's lie into a statement that he just didn't make -- that terrorism stories were merely underreported. Read Trump's own words -- that's not what he said, but whatever. When the press challenged the White House to name terrorist incidents which weren't covered, they hastily put together a list with laughable misspellings ("attaker," for instance). Almost 80 terrorist incidents were on this list, but it bizarrely contained attacks such as the Pulse shooting in Florida and San Bernardino (misspelled "San Bernadino") which were covered pretty much nonstop by all the news networks for over a week. Hard to call those "underreported" stories.

So Kellyanne Conway was dispatched to explain how the explanation didn't actually mean what they had previously said it meant. She helpfully explained that the list had both attacks which were sufficiently covered by the media, as well as others that weren't. Even though the list was supposed to only consist of underreported attacks (indeed, that was the whole point of the White House writing the list in the first place). Again, an easily-refuted lie. Her biggest whopper during this interview, however, was to insist: "I don't intend to spin." After which, her pants burst into flames on camera, and had to be quickly doused with a nearby fire extinguisher.

Well, no -- that last part didn't actually happen. It is nothing short of a lie, born of overly-wishful thinking. Still, it was astonishing the path these lies took over the past few days. Conway lies about a fictional terror attack, while castigating the media for not reporting it. Trump castigates the media for underreporting terror attacks, because the media somehow has "reasons" for not wanting to report it. Challenged on this statement, the White House comes up with a list of 78 terror attacks, all of which were reported on in the media, and some of which dominated coverage for weeks. The official story then shifted to "underreporting" as opposed to "not reporting" (Trump's original lie), and somehow the list morphed into a list of both adequately-reported and underreported incidents (even though that, too, was a lie -- they were all reported on). To top it all off, Conway returns to the airwaves to Trumpsplain it all to us, insisting that she doesn't intend to spin.

This is not a new phenomenon, of course. Hans Christian Andersen pointed it out almost two centuries ago, which is how I'm going to end this story:

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn't dare admit they had nothing to hold.

So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, "Oh, how fine are the Emperor's new clothes! Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would confess that he couldn't see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.

"But he hasn't got anything on," a little child said.

"Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A child says he hasn't anything on."

"But he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last.

The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.

Chris Weigant blogs at:

Follow Chris on Twitter: @ChrisWeigant

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2koqD0y

[repwincoml4a0a5]

Like A Rug

No, that's not a Donald Trump hair joke. It is nothing more than the end of a simile on lying. Rugs are the epitome of lying, since nothing lies more obviously than a rug. Of course, I could have gone with a different motif, but Al Franken had already used the title: "Lies And The Lying Liars Who Tell Them," so I had to go with what was available, as it were.

The administration of Donald Trump has, so far, been breathtaking at its dishonesty. Some of this comes from the president himself, but a fair portion comes from his advisors, who are often put in the unenviable position of trying to prove something which is not actually true (so as not to contradict a Trump lie). They pretzel themselves into explaining what Trump really meant, and how in a certain light it bears a passing resemblance to something which is actually quasi-factual. Must be tough, but they all knew what they were signing up for, so it's hard to feel too sorry for them, really.

The Trump administration began this dishonesty on their first day in power. Sean Spicer was sent out to the press podium to state as a fact something which was simply not true. Trump's inauguration had: "the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration -- period -- both in person and around the globe." This was laughably untrue, and anyone with eyes to see the photos knew it. That was Day One.

Since then the lies have been so constant and unrelenting it's actually hard to keep up with them all. Some of these wouldn't be classified as lies by some, such as Trump tweeting about a "so-called judge" who ruled against him. There's nothing "so-called" about him -- the man is indeed a federal judge, confirmed by the Senate, with a lifetime tenure on the bench. This is precisely why America's judiciary is completely independent, in fact, so they can ignore political pressure from other branches of the government. But some might call this merely an insult, rather than a lie.

Then there are questions of interpretation. When Trump spoke of Frederick Douglass seemingly in the present tense, it was interpreted as Trump not knowing Douglass was not still alive. Perhaps. He's not the most eloquent president we've ever had (by a long shot) so perhaps it was just his clunky speaking style. We're bending over backwards to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he could have just misspoken on this one. Then again, he could have just never heard of Frederick Douglass before in his life -- also a plausible explanation.

Other strange statements could likewise be chalked up as opinions, misguided though they may be, such as Kellyanne Conway insisting that there had been "no chaos" at the airports when Trump's Muslim ban was instituted, and everything was going swimmingly. To be as charitable as possible, it depends on her own personal definition of what she considers to be chaos. Looked like chaos to me, but who am I to contradict her opinion?

This all has to be seen through the lens of spin, because top advisors to any president are indeed spin doctors -- it's part of the job, really. But this is normally an exercise in framing the presentation more than disputing obvious facts. A presidential spokesperson might say something like: "We don't see this as a black-and-white incident. We see countless shades of grey, in fact, and while this incident may be seen by some as a darker shade of grey, we instead see the overall picture as lighter grey, like a pre-dawn brightening that promises much more light and sunshine to come." That's standard-issue spin, in other words. But the Trump people can't even manage that, when Trump himself insists in a tweet: "Black is white. Many people agree with me on this, believe me. Any use of the word BLACK is fake news, and sad." There's not a lot a spin doctor can do to fix something like that, in other words.

This is where we get into the astonishing lies erupting from the Trump administration which are just flat-out bald-faced lies, period. Not opinion, not spin, not misinterpretation -- just lies. Most of these are self-inflicted wounds of the most embarrassing type because they are so easy to refute.

Kellyanne Conway provided the most amusing example of this, last week. She castigated Chris Matthews for the media completely ignoring the "Bowling Green massacre" -- a phrase she has used in multiple interviews. The media didn't report on it because it didn't happen, of course. It was nothing short of a whopper of a lie.

This got more amusing when CNN refused to invite Kellyanne Conway on its Sunday morning show this weekend (although she did appear on the channel later in the day), because they considered her an untrustworthy source who had lost all credibility (because of lies like the Bowling Green massacre). Conway tried to lie her way out of this one, insisting that she was the one who turned CNN down. Sean Spicer was asked about this at a press briefing:

Q: CNN reportedly declined to interview Kellyanne Conway on Sunday because of questions about her credibility. Is the White House willing to offer alternative representatives to networks that refuse to work with specific spokespeople?

SPICER: I, I, well, frankly, I think that, that my understanding is they retracted that, they've walked that back or denied it or however you want to put it. I don't care.

This was also a lie. CNN never retracted, walked back, or denied that this was in fact the truth of the matter -- something they reiterated in a tweet. So Kellyanne lies about a massacre that never happened (while incredulously berating the media for not covering it), CNN doesn't invite her because she's a liar, and then Sean Spicer lies about it to the press, using an easily-checkable "fact" that wasn't true.

But I shouldn't pick on the advisors so much, because Donald Trump himself is the emperor of lies. While speaking to a meeting of law enforcement officials, Trump stated: "And yet the murder rate in our country is the highest it's been in 47 years. I used to use that, I'd say that in a speech and everybody was surprised. Because the press doesn't tell it like it is. It wasn't to their advantage to say that. But the murder rate is the highest it's been in, I guess, 45 to 47 years." This is not true. In fact, the opposite is true -- the murder rate is at a low point for the past 50 years or so. It was twice as high in the 1980s, in fact. An easily-checkable fact that Trump felt the compulsion to lie about.

This wasn't even Trump's biggest falsehood in the past few days (as I said, it's hard to keep up, due to the sheer volume of lies). Trump went off script in a recent speech to complain that the media was refusing to report on terrorist attacks, for unspecified nefarious reasons: "You've seen what happened in Paris and Nice. All over Europe, it's happening. It's gotten to a point where it's not even being reported. And in many cases, the very, very dishonest press doesn't want to report it. They have their reasons, and you understand that." This is, in fact, not true. Not even remotely. Unless he was referring to the Bowling Green massacre, of course, which wasn't reported by the media because it didn't happen.

Since then, his advisors have been trying to morph Trump's lie into a statement that he just didn't make -- that terrorism stories were merely underreported. Read Trump's own words -- that's not what he said, but whatever. When the press challenged the White House to name terrorist incidents which weren't covered, they hastily put together a list with laughable misspellings ("attaker," for instance). Almost 80 terrorist incidents were on this list, but it bizarrely contained attacks such as the Pulse shooting in Florida and San Bernardino (misspelled "San Bernadino") which were covered pretty much nonstop by all the news networks for over a week. Hard to call those "underreported" stories.

So Kellyanne Conway was dispatched to explain how the explanation didn't actually mean what they had previously said it meant. She helpfully explained that the list had both attacks which were sufficiently covered by the media, as well as others that weren't. Even though the list was supposed to only consist of underreported attacks (indeed, that was the whole point of the White House writing the list in the first place). Again, an easily-refuted lie. Her biggest whopper during this interview, however, was to insist: "I don't intend to spin." After which, her pants burst into flames on camera, and had to be quickly doused with a nearby fire extinguisher.

Well, no -- that last part didn't actually happen. It is nothing short of a lie, born of overly-wishful thinking. Still, it was astonishing the path these lies took over the past few days. Conway lies about a fictional terror attack, while castigating the media for not reporting it. Trump castigates the media for underreporting terror attacks, because the media somehow has "reasons" for not wanting to report it. Challenged on this statement, the White House comes up with a list of 78 terror attacks, all of which were reported on in the media, and some of which dominated coverage for weeks. The official story then shifted to "underreporting" as opposed to "not reporting" (Trump's original lie), and somehow the list morphed into a list of both adequately-reported and underreported incidents (even though that, too, was a lie -- they were all reported on). To top it all off, Conway returns to the airwaves to Trumpsplain it all to us, insisting that she doesn't intend to spin.

This is not a new phenomenon, of course. Hans Christian Andersen pointed it out almost two centuries ago, which is how I'm going to end this story:

The noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it high. They didn't dare admit they had nothing to hold.

So off went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the streets and the windows said, "Oh, how fine are the Emperor's new clothes! Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would confess that he couldn't see anything, for that would prove him either unfit for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever such a complete success.

"But he hasn't got anything on," a little child said.

"Did you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A child says he hasn't anything on."

"But he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last.

The Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.

Chris Weigant blogs at:

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