#my mom is a teacher who works with inmates who want to get their high school degree and needs to get them to that level

[requiemforthestars]

People seem to be interpreting that the Caitvi scene was Vi's first time just because she was in prison. As if people don't have entire relationships while in prison.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

[cagestark]

Masterlist

A (probably incomplete) list of my current works. While Peter is 18+ in all of these fics, other warnings vary. Please check the tags of a fic before proceeding. I also have a ko-fi where you can help a young stay at home mom (that’s me) feed her precious angel baby (that’s my daughter) by donating spare change. 

Starker Works: 

Indecent: (M) Tony gives Peter his first ride on a motorcycle. 

Poor Excuses for Gods: (E)  Hades!Tony is dying. Dionysus!Peter is a nice distraction.

Settling: (E) Peter wants to be taller than Tony. High heels help. 

Together: (G) Peter spoils Tony. 

In the Morning: (M)  Tony gets sad and jealous over how much time Peter is spending with Bruce. 

Powerful: (E) Tony seeks vengeance against Peter’s abusive ex.

Boiling Point: (E) Alpha!Peter is trying to seduce Omega!Tony but the man doesn’t even know it. 

In Pursuit of Fool’s Gold: (T) Prince!Tony falls in love with Servant!Peter. 

Breaking Character: (E) Tony and Peter are spies trying to take down a human trafficking ring. 

Tamed: (E) Tony Stark is a bad boy, the opposite of everything Peter is. And exactly what he wants. 

- Play: (G) From the Tamed-verse. Tony first sets his sights on Peter who is performing in the school play. 

Lifesavers: (T) Paparazzo Quentin Beck has pictures of Tony cheating on Peter.

Bringing Balance: (E) Tony is going into heat for the first time since Peter moved into the tower. Good thing the boy is a beta (only he’s not). 

Waiting Game: (E) Tony and Peter married out of high school and quickly divorced. They’re brought back together at their 20 year high school reunion.

Boredom: (E) Peter gives Tony a handjob during an Avengers meeting. 

The Third Idea: (E) Tony and Peter experiment with edging and orgasm denial.

Rose-Tints My World: (T) Peter fakes an orgasm on stage at a Rocky Horror Picture Show live screening. 

Permission: (E) Peter feels better when he cums with permission. Tony offers to be the one to give it. 

Playing Pretend: (M) Tony sees through Peter’s ‘good boy’ act. 

Defender: (E) Tony picks up a stray who sees the good in him. 

Proxy: (E) Peter asks if Tony knows anybody who will take his virginity. Tony knows...at least one person. 

Better Late Than Never: (E) Tony is a famous writer and Peter wins a meet and greet with him. 

Stopover: (E) Ex-hitman Tony meets barista!Peter at a cafe in a small town. 

Rebreak: (M) Tony falls prey to his addiction again. 

Playing for Keeps: (E) Homeless Peter saves Mafia Boss Tony’s life. Now repayment needs discussed. 

Better Late Than Never: (E) Peter wins a meet and greet with his favorite famous author, Tony Stark. But Tony is a mess. 

Such is Youth: (E) Peter gets high and blows Tony while the older man is driving.

Drabbles--Multiship:

Hands: (E) Peter can’t keep Tony’s hands off of him. 

Princess: (T) Mafia Boss!Tony left his Princess!Peter home alone all day. 

Fire: (G) Firefighter!Tony has to rescue teacher!Peter when the elementary school is on fire. 

Tip: (E) Silver fox!Tony runs a mechanic shop. He does some work for biker!bucky and Peter. 

Bath: (G) After Peter is hurt on a mission, Tony cares for him. 

Costume: (M) Peter and Tony meet at a comic con, and they flirt in-character.

Devotee: (E) Peter (with “help” from “friends”) tries to summon sex-god Tony.

Worth: (G) Post-endgame, established Starker reminds Bucky that he is worth sticking around for. 

Winter: (G) Tony and Peter’s first date is spent getting hot chocolate in the winter time.

Three: (G) Tony and Bucky find their second soulmate in barista Peter Parker. 

Gala: (G) The first time Tony takes his much younger boyfriend to a gala. 

Elevator: (E) Bucky and Peter try sex in an elevator and are interrupted by Tony.

Untouched: (E) Bucky and Tony conspire to make their lover Peter cum untouched. 

Arm: (E) The first time Bucky lets Tony touch his arm. 

Soulmate: (G) Tony and Peter find out that Bucky is their soulmate. 

Labwork: (T) An insecure Bucky spends time in the lab with flirtatious Tony and Peter. 

Care: (G) Peter and Bucky take care of Tony after he spends too much time in the lab.

Fae: (G) Tony unwittingly walks into a fairy’s ring and meets fae!Peter.

Tattoo: (M) Masochist Peter gets his first tattoo. 

Planner: (G) Wedding Planner!Peter and groom!Tony fall in love.

Burn: (M) Peter and Tony discover just how little Bucky cares about himself.

Poison: (T) Servant!Peter needs to testing King!Tony’s food for poison. 

Puppy: (M) Peter and Tony experiment with puppy!play.

Prom: (G) Popular!Peter asks Nerd!Tony to the prom. 

Assistance: (M) When Peter is the only one Bucky will allow to touch the arm, maintenance gets tricky (and arousing). 

Delivery: (E) Deliver guy!Bucky walks in on an intimate moment between Peter and Tony. 

Monitor: (G) Peter panics the first time his adopted daughter (with Tony) sleeps peacefully. 

Problem: (M) Tony has a sex problem with Peter. One only Bucky can solve. 

Strip: (M) While at a strip club after busting some Mafia baddies, Tony sees Peter’s moves. 

Deepthroat: (E) Tony teaching Peter how to deepthroat cock. 

Check Yes: (G) Morgan brings home a Valentine for Tony from a classmate’s father. 

Self Care: (E) Peter and Bucky try to convince Tony to leave his work and partake in self care. 

Tattoo: (M) Bucky notices that Tony has a tattoo. 

Collaborate: (T) Bucky and Peter put aside their differences and decide to collaborate on wooing Tony. 

Velvet Box: (G) Tony proposes to Peter, but Peter says no. 

Mistaken: (G) Tony asks Peter to make things official. Peter thought they already were. 

Convince: (E) Bucky tries to convince Tony that them having sex would be worth it. 

Fair: (E) Tony walks in on Bucky and Peter, and then joins them. 

Tattoo II: (M) Tony spots Peter’s new tattoo. 

Hex Party: (M) Bucky tries to make new Wiccan friends on campus. Peter and Tony make a mistake. 

Repay: (M) Peter patrols with a plug in. Tony has the remote. 

Countdown: (T) Peter begs Mr. Stark to be his New Year’s Kiss. 

Warm: (E) Tony comes home to find Peter keeping Bucky’s cock warm. 

Practice: (M) Peter convinces Tony to help him practice kissing before he has to do it onstage. 

Leaked: (M) Tony,  Peter, and Bucky’s sex tape is leaked to the public. 

Compete: (E) Tony and Bucky have a friendly competition for Peter’s pleasure.

Home: (G) Flash is convinced Peter is lying about living with Tony Stark. 

Reveal: (G) Tony and Peter reveal their relationship to Aunt May. 

Disorder: (G) Tony finds out that Peter has an eating disorder and vows to help him any way he can. 

Time: (G) After Peter lives a long and happy life, he’s reunited with Tony in a place where they have all the time in the world. 

WinterIronSpider Works: 

Caught in a Spider’s Web: (E) Prison!Inmates Bucky and Tony seduce the new young guard. 

Helping Hands: (E) Bucky finds a poor college student and brings him home.

Don’t You (Forget About Me): (M) MIT college student Tony agrees to let his roommate’s boyfriend pick their Halloween costumes. 

A Hole in the Head: (E) Bucky is the assassin hired by mob boss Tony to protect bratty Peter.

Tony Stark/Original Characters Works:

Gratitude: (E) Tony helps rescue a tiger and is thanked by a zookeeper. 

Original Works: 

Bottled Up: You sell drugs. I mean, emotions. 

Escape: Your deadbeat dad wants help with one last thing--escaping death.

[convivialcamera]

On Deadline: Get Reaction

Previously

Dougal and Jamie loomed before me on an unusually slow Wednesday morning, newspapers and notebooks in hand.

“Did you see this?” Dougal demanded, plonking yesterday’s local section down on my desk. A brief was circled in blue ballpoint: Leoch inmate found hanged in cell. I hadn’t seen it, but it was never a good idea to admit I wasn’t reading the paper cover-to-cover every day. “We’ve been following this case for a year and the kid just up and…” He made a futile gesture with his hands. “Go with Jamie and talk to MacGregor’s mother.”

I was reading the brief as he spoke. “It’s a suicide. Shouldn’t we be hounding the coroner, not his mom?” Jamie made a face at me that clearly stated, “That’s what I said!”

Dougal had already fended off this argument: “We’re doing both. Obviously we need to be sensitive to the family.” He said this offhandedly, as a matter of form. “But don’t come back until you get reaction and art.” And then he spun on his heel and stalked back to his office.

I was carefully considering my gear. Huge cameras and lenses tended to spook people in sensitive situations, so I reached for two pancake lenses, and then popped them into my smaller bag. I could tell Jamie was watching me as I gathered my things and slipped into my jacket.

“Can you drive?”

“I drove last time,” I said, but reached for my keys. “It’s your turn.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t,” he said quickly, “but I can’t. I only have the one helmet and…”

“Oh! So, the motorcycle in the parking lot is yours?” He nodded, a bit sheepishly, but then smiled so radiently it was like the sun came out. “I’ll take you out on it sometime.”

It was tempting to smile back, but I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed towards the back door (I’d discovered a new shortcut to the parking lot). “You should take Laoghaire,” I said with more edge than I meant, and cringed to myself. 

“Nah, but maybe your husband wants to try it out?”

I deserved that, I was sure.

Alexander MacGregor’s mother lived in Cranesmuir, one of Leoch’s shabbier neighborhoods. Run-down duplexes — some with pit bulls perched on the roof — lined the ill-maintained road, and as I pulled onto High Street I felt a stab of pity for the young man who had felt so much despair. “You should go in alone,” I said, quietly. “Two of us might be intimidating.”

Jamie thought about this a moment. “No, I think I need you in there. You’re way less intimidating than me.” He was a towering giant made of lean muscle, and if his mop of red curls was charming, the sharp bones of his face and slant of his eyes were those of a fierce ancient warrior. “Just hide your camera until she’s accustomed to us. And maybe do the introductions?”

Alice MacGregor was a slip of a woman, with thin brown hair and deep-sunk, grief-filled eyes. She answered the door after my soft knock, and eyed us with suspicion from behind the lock chain. “Who are you?”

I took a deep breath, steading myself. “I’m Claire, and this is Jamie. We’re with the Leoch Times and we’d like to speak with you about your son, Alexander.”

The woman’s whole body tensed, as if drawing herself up to do battle. “You people! He just died!” She inhaled, preparing for an onslaught. Alice’s grief and rage radiated so potently that it made me want to weep alongside her.

I looked her straight in the eye. “Please, we just want to know about Alex from the people who loved him.” Alice examined me speculatively, and read the truth on my face. She deflated, like a balloon pricked by a needle, and opened the door wide. Jamie patted my shoulder in approval and followed her inside the small, dark living room. She sat in a chair, and Jamie on the end of a worn couch. I sat gingerly on the other end, my bag at my feet.

Jamie, with a look of tender concern, explained the preliminaries: he was a reporter, and anything she said could end up in the newspaper. If she wanted to go off-the-record for any information they needed to agree beforehand. It was a fine bit of interview prep, and I warmed to how kindly he spoke with her. He had nice feelings.

“Tell me what your son was like in school,” Jamie began.

Alice’s face lit up in memory, and then almost crumbled. “He was funny, his teachers loved him. Not so good as some kids, you know, but good. For here.” It was obvious she meant Cranesmuir, which had a reputation for poor schools and even poorer students. “He was on the track team. He loved to run.”

“What did he do after high school?”

“He tried a few classes at Leoch Community, but it was tough. We couldn’t scrape together the money, and he had to work. The jobs weren’t enough, but he always helped me out when he could. Helped me keep this place.”

And on it went. Alex was smart, and had kept trying to get back into college, or get better jobs and work his way up, but nothing panned out. Sometimes it was a racist boss, or a car that just couldn’t get him to work on time. And so, like so many young men from the neighborhood, he floundered, and then…

“I couldn’t believe it when he was arrested,” Alice said emphatically. “Alex, my Alexander, had never been in trouble.”

At this, Jamie’s face revealed a small bit of skepticism. “Never?”

“Oh, it was kid’s stuff.” Alice waved her hand, dismissing. “He spray painted a brick wall and got caught when he was 16. He got community service, and I made him go; he did all of it. And I made him swear that he’d never do anything like it again. Alex didn’t lie.” She was on the verge of tears again.

“Did you visit him in jail?”

Alice’s face darkened. “That place is a dungeon. Everyone knows the police don’t treat people correctly.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything. But he’d be roughed up. Bruises, cuts. One time I saw a circular burn on his upper arm.”

“You don’t think it was the other prisoners?”

“No.” She looked at him, hard in the eye. “Can I tell you something without it going in the paper?”

“Off the record?” Jamie asked. She nodded. “OK.”

“Captain Jack Randall. From the fort.”

“What about him?”

“He visited Alex in prison.”

“And?”

“I think he was beating up my boy.”

I watched Jamie’s brain whirl through a slew of possibilities, but then he closed off the line of questioning. “Can we go back on the record now?”

At the end, I pulled out my camera. “Alice, do you have any photos of Alex? I’d like to take your picture with one.” I knew it was a little cliché, but I also knew I could get some lovely morning light out of the lone front window. Alice produced an old school photo of her son, posed in front of the cloudy gray backdrop that was so common to picture day, and framed in a cheap black plastic frame. Alex had been gawky, but smiled with an extraordinary kindness that belied his end.

I pulled out my 50-millimeter lens and opened the aperture wide while speeding up my shutter in the hopes of capturing the ephemeral rays of light speckled with dust in my frame. I pulled the cheap armchair from the corner next to the window, so when I sat Alice down the light illuminated the side of her face, as well as the portrait of her son she held cradled in her arms.

Jamie watched me intently as I drove us away; I could almost feel his gaze cutting into me while he sat in the passenger seat. I kept my eyes resolutely on the road, silently willing my cheeks to stop blazing.

Finally, frustrated by my failure, I snapped: “What?”

“How is your husband not your husband?” Jamie asked.

“How are you ‘not exactly’ on the board?” I shot back, pulling one of my hands off the wheel to make sarcastic air quotes.

He chuckled. “Oh. I just observe at board meetings. I can’t talk. I can’t vote. I can just listen. It’s part of the agreement my uncles made with my dad when my mom died — she was their sister, you know?”

“Part of the family business?”

“Yep, Dougal’s girls and Colum’s son are all too young, and my sister isn’t interested at all, so I’m the one they’re training up to take over when the time comes.”

“Ah.” I said, noncommittally. Jamie fell silent, clearly waiting for me answer his own question.

I drew in a deep breath, trying to find the courage to talk about it. “I left him months ago, after an assignment went south.”

“You’re not divorced?”

“We’re not anything. It’s been over a long time.” Jamie huffed a bit at this, in disbelief. “The rest is just, you know, legalities,” I said defensively.

“Legalities?” He sounded incredulous.

“It’s all lawyers and stuff, OK? I left Frank after Libya, haven’t talked to him since, and now I’m here, and that’s that.”

“Sounds like you owe him an explanation.”

“Well, it also sounds like the future owner of the newspaper shouldn’t be making out with interns in bars, but what would I know?”

That shut him up.

The story ran on the local front, C1, with my portrait of Alice MacGregor and her grief-stricken eyes surrounded by shining rays of light at three-and-a-half columns. Jamie stood next to me at the morning meeting, the day’s section fronts tacked up on the wall, and nudged my shoulder.

“Alice might have been right about the captain,” he said softly to me, as we waited for everyone to gather.

“Oh?”

“Got a hold of the visitor logs. One Jonathan Randall visited MacGregor about ten or so times while he was in jail. And here’s the kicker: Randall’s the one Alex stole from.”

“What?” I said, louder than I intended. A few people turned to look at me strangely. Jamie smiled politely, and faces turned away.

“Right? There’s more to this story than what we’ve got.”

[shaykeijser]

riverdale 2x16

 here are my thoughts/reactions to this weeks episode that no one asked for, which will include spoilers (obviously) so i’m putting them under the cut. i’ve already watched the episode so these aren’t my first reactions technically but they’ll be the same. 

caution: i’m not a fan of jughead or the core four. so i’ll be poking fun/getting annoyed at them.

- why did betty not go straight to alice with the dna test? why would she give chic, who she thinks is capable of hurting her, the opportunity to last out at her? i also still don’t get why she didn’t just get a normal dna test. like you’re a journalist, get the full truth, not just some of it

- i fucking called it!! why do ya think hal wanted nothing to do with chic? remember when he said “you’re letting this stranger into our house”? he wouldn’t call his own son a stranger

- fp is the dad and that’s the facts (that wouldn’t make bughead wrong don’t even try to defend that)

- chic is such a good creep IM LIVING FOR IT

- if it wasn’t a for-profit prison it wouldn’t be the worst idea. but it is so :///

- southside high was falling apart at the seems. the old students were aware of that and were plenty happy to go away! yes the lodge’s had other intentions with shutting down the school, but overall it was a good thing. there’s other, more valid reasons to not like the prisons that aren’t being talked about!!

- lol we know that veronica running for stuco wouldn’t end up well

- fred getting more screen time <333 (even if i don’t totally agree with him)

- does everybody at this school watch the same tv shows how is jughead quoting scandal (which i had to google) universally understood? i’m actually a sophomore and my friends and i quote vines.

- why isn’t ronnie defending herself? she gave that look to archie so he could defend her. where did kick ass veronica i don’t take no shit’ lodge go??

- ‘hunger strike for southside high’ BOI 

- ‘for it to re-open’ i had to pause this when i first watched this scene. he went there for like 2 weeks. toni was his only true friend for the majority of it. he didn’t like the idea of it and didn’t like what he had to do to survive there. the other students were happy with it closing!! why you gotta be so extra?? and if he really wants to get out of riverdale to be a writer he shouldn’t be trying to go back to a school that had teachers who gave up hope on their students

- ew ethel (i was eh with her all together but i’m still >:( over how she got mad at veronica for what hiram did to her father. veronica was one of the only people who was comforting her and tried to make amends. we can’t forget that when that all was going down veronica didn’t like her dad)

- WHY ARE KEVIN AND JOSIE SITTING ALONE

- wait jk i remembered 

- HAHAHA ok i’m josie (don’t get me wrong i like veronica and is the only tolerable lead for me atm but that slushie thing is really funny. it was sorta uncalled for, but she is working with her father soz)

- props to veronica for being the bigger person in this scenario

- 'what are the odds your father’s gonna be the first inmate in that prison?’ #boomroasted #thatwasatheofficereference #didanyonegetit

- lol at least veronica kept her cool for a little bit (go her btw)

- MY POOR CHERYL NO

- mama blossom is shady and nana rose is sassy

- that tea’s gonna be poison i’m calling it

- why would ethel’s dad want a job at the prison? he was a businessman

- veronica’s own parents are threatening her UGH

- power to veronica for wanting to run but this isn’t gonna end well

- TONI’S HOT & even if her audition flopped cheryl still would’ve made her member #lovemybabies

- tbh i didn’t like the lodges being the main plot point and i’d still prefer for the serpents to get more screentime than them BUT this is getting interesting

- drag him archie

- i want to see other south siders fighting for this why does jughead get to be the leader of this revolution (that i’m here for!! except for the school thing bc it doesn’t make sense)

- y’all have been having friendship problems since the ms. gr**** thing i think the trains have been getting closer than you think jug

- FINALLY, THE CHONI I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

- something bad is gonna happen to cheryl i’m calling it, and nana rose

- (about what betty said after cheryl opened up) betty let chic into her and her family’s life can she not just be cautious from a distance and let her mom enjoy having her son back

- of course toni’s in the bed you sly little bird cheryl

- y’all gonna fuck? kidding this the cw that’s only for het couples

- THEY GONNA KISS AWE

- ok fuck why can’t we have some happiness for once

- penelope and claudius pushed her, i mean penelope had obviously prepared a back up plan incase she didn’t die (mentioning sundowners syndrome)

- #ProtectCherylBlossom

- aw archie’s mom is back i’m happy 

- YES SCHOOL THAT BOY FOR DISRESPECTING FRED GO MAMA ANDREWS

- charles melton looks really hot with a bruised face oi oi (so does jordan connor)

- that lowkey sounds like a bribe veronica.... 

- fang, toni, and pea are in this scene?? new favorite scene

- honestly, if any other serpent was the one in jugheads spot i think i would be all for it lmao

- i thought mary (andrews) was gonna also give archie the safe sex talk that he archie never got dang

- mary’s giving good advice though let’s just hope archie will listen to it

- I LOVE KEVIN 

- kevin had the right to tell chic, she was the one who forced him into the poorly planned catfishing (like seriously - she shouldn’t have been there and they shouldn’t have done it at a school). kevin has barely got any good storylines that actually continue and i’m so damn happy that he’s sticking up for himself. betty only reaches out to him when she needs help.

- betty talking about her darkness and saying ‘darkness’ in general is the most cringey thing ever. she has some sort of mental illness. i don’t know what but they shouldn’t have taken this ‘darkness inside of me’ approach.

- i wish V tried to become josie’s friend before asking her for an endorsement. actually, i wish the show resolved their friendship ages ago. they’re the one of the few WOC and overall i’m tired of girl x girl friendships being ruined like this

- it’s got so bad that veronica had to bribe josie to endorse her. i know this isn’t gonna go well

- sweet pea looking like an out of focus snack <333

- DRAG HIM JUGHEAD (lol you can tell how much i don’t like archie being up hiram’s ass that i’m praising jughead)

- give betty cooper therapy, you cowards

- ‘i caught the black hood’ bitch no you didn’t that hoe still out there & i’m taking that theory to the grave

- sheriff keller woah i forgot about him

- my boy fp!!

- omfg imagine when betty tells jughead that chic’s dad isn’t hal they better have him be like “...what if it’s mine” (i just realized that sorta sounds like jughead saying ‘what if the kid aka chic is mine’ and that’s not what i meant, i meant that chic’s dad is jughead’s dad but that made me laugh so i’m keeping it)

- oh sHIT something’s gonna happen @ this concert/rally for veronica’s campaign thing

- kevin’s filming it yeps something’s happening

- ope i knew it ethel is passing papers out 

- woop there it is

- i don’t ~really~ get why betty’s mad 

- JOSIE’S APART OF IT WTF I DIDN’T SEE THAT COMING but i should have :(

- this show tries to be all about female empowerment but then they have two girls banding together to bully an already manipulated and hurting girl. smh

- again, i don’t ~really~ get why betty can’t trust her anymore

- :((( i feel so bad for ronnie. she’s being manipulated by her parents and i really want her out of lodge industries. she’s taking blame for the shit that her parents have done

- THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR

- HAHAHAA THE WIG OH MY GOD

- “i was guessing” congrats betty, you’ve played yourself

- the offer that hiram made to fp actually sounds nice :((( if only he wasn’t so shady 

- archie is so far up hiram’s ass he sounds exactly like him

- YOU GO MARY! SCHOOL YO CHILD

- finally a parent (alice) talks bout safe sex to their kid (betty)!!! my mom is gonna be so happy when she watches this episode (yes i watch riverdale with my mom, no it’s not awkward during sex scenes because we watch every show together so we’re used to it)

- “absolutely not.” keep telling that to yourself alice

- alice cooper is my favorite cooper

- “he’s dangerous.” bitch so are you? you held a lighter up to his face?

- i thought alice killed that drug dealer is that what betty is saying he did

- cheryl doesn’t have red lipstick on in this hospital scene something’s gonna happen

- nana was being poisoned by the tea :((

- i guess i’m remembering this wrong i thought alice shot him (about the scene in chic’s room)

- how did betty not remember that he didn’t touch anything

- CHERYL DROP AND ROLL OUT OF THAT CAR NOW

- look at archie being all smart aw

- why is betty next to kevin?? stay away from my baby (kevin)

- this scene is actually really powerful? even though them chaining themselves to the school is a repetitive and cliche thing to do, the aesthetics and the filming of it is really cool

- can we see all those young serpents more often pls

- what is jughead talking about why does he think they’re gonna lose riverdale high? is it because of veronica running? bc no one’s gonna vote for her after those flyers

- uGH i can see him being a good president

- why is betty so done with her and veronica’s friendship? i really don’t get why she’s so mad at her?

- jughead, betty, and fp all living together. that’s a concept

- SOMEONE WRITE A HEADCANON OF ALICE BUSTING INTO THE TRAILER TO GET BETTY BACK AND THEN WE GET SOME CUTE FALICE ANGST

- i’m happy mary’s staying bc maybe with her around we’ll get more fred screen time #canyoutellilovefred

- FUCK YEAH FRED IS RUNNING

- toni topaz is the caring type of girlfriend who goes to her girl’s house when they aren’t in school pass it on!!

- but really though where is cheryl what are they doing to her

- CHERYL DOESN’T DESERVE THIS SHE’S BEEN EMOTIONALLY ABUSED FOR YEARS AND HAS LOST A BROTHER, FATHER, AND BEST FRIEND 

main takeaways

~ veronica is being manipulated by her parents and doesn’t deserve half of the shit that’s getting thrown at her

~ jughead is still cringey and extra

~ toni is the girlfriend of all of our dreams let’s be honest here

~ cheryl blossom doesn’t deserve this bullshit

~ betty cooper is mentally ill

~ chic is fp and alice’s son

~ #FredForMayor

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, September 21

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: America’s new civil war caused by Trump 

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Antonio Banderas zips around his native Spain after recovering from coronavirus, Neil Sedaka, Brooke Shields on the phone in the Hamptons 

Page 3: Demi Lovato in a mask using her phone, Sofia Richie makes a splash at the beach, Arnold Schwarzenegger blows his nose while biking in Santa Monica 

Page 4: Goodfellas toughie Ray Liotta has been forced into wearing a hearing aid at the age of 65 -- a lifetime of firing weapons in screen roles and playing loudmouthed gangsters who scream and get screamed at has slowly eroded his hearing but his love life is sizzling with brunette stunner Jacy Nittolo 20 years his junior

Page 5: Brave Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman took shocking secrets to his grave and left behind a legacy of generosity when he died from colon cancer last month -- in addition to hiding his killer disease he also wed his longtime girlfriend Taylor Simone Ledward on the sly and he was also tight-lipped about his other relationships keeping his close friendships with Denzel Washington and Phylicia Rashad under wraps -- Chadwick fought Marvel before shooting Black Panther to make sure his character T’Challa was played with an African accent to reflect his heritage and culture when the big shots wanted an English or American accent, Amber Heard is at her wit’s end after learning Johnny Depp is ready to embroil her in yet another explosive legal case -- after giving lengthy testimony this summer in a London courtroom where Johnny was suing a British newspaper for labeling him a wife beater rattled Amber has been warned by her legal team that Johnny is coming after her in the U.S. whether or not he wins his London case -- Johnny has made a move to sue Amber for defamation in Virginia for writing a column about sexual violence against women and implying she was battered without mentioning his name -- Amber has been a mess and she believes Johnny’s doing this to grind her into the dirt 

Page 6: Angelina Jolie is seething over Brad Pitt’s romance with young German model Nicole Poturalski and she’s dead set on keeping their kids away from his latest squeeze and she feels her ex is flaunting his fling with the 27-year-old to deliberately aggravate her and she’s steamed about him bringing his married galpal to Chateau Miraval which is the former couple’s estate in France 

Page 7: Matthew Perry is tormented after being snubbed for the special reunion episode for The West Wing where his guest acting earned him two Emmy nominations and he’s hurt because West Wing really has a special place in his heart, Mariah Carey reveals she penned two songs about her former baseball player beau Derek Jeter -- her song The Roof was about her first smooch with the now-retired New York Yankee and her song My All was about jetting off to spend time with Derek who she credits with helping her get past her doomed marriage to music mogul Tommy Mottola 

Page 8: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are bickering because he’s being forced to miss his family’s traditional Balmoral Castle holiday -- while Harry is upset he won’t be spending time with his 94-year-old granny Queen Elizabeth his wife Meghan doesn’t feel like she’s missing out and she’s too busy decorating their new Montecito mansion and never wants to return to Britain

Page 9: Desperately hoping his son Prince Harry will come to his senses and return to the fold Prince Charles is still paying Harry and his wife Meghan Markle a $30,000 monthly allowance -- Charles and Harry have a very strong and close father-and-son relationship despite disagreeing over Harry’s move to the United States and Charles has made it clear that the door is always open

Page 11: Tom Cruise plunked down a whopping $675,000 to hire a cruise ship to house the cast and crew shooting his Mission: Impossible 7 in a bid to beat costly delays caused by the coronavirus pandemic

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Peter Weller in L.A. (picture), This Is Us heartthrob Justin Hartley’s love life is like a soap opera story line involving a trio of daytime divas -- Justin’s first wife Lindsay Korman and mom to his teenage daughter is duking it out with wife No. 2 Chrishell Stause who trashed him on her reality show Selling Sunset after he texted her a divorce demand while meanwhile Justin is distracting himself with yet another soap star Sofia Pernas, it was a real-life high school horror story for Amelia Gray Hamlin daughter of RHOBH star Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin who had her mom trashed by two teachers resulting in her anorexia, Sherri Shepherd’s career went from getting a standing ovation after a guest spot on Friends to answering phones as a legal secretary for David Schwimmer’s dad, Sex and the City creator Candace Bushnell had a romantic dinner with John Corbett while he was dating Bo Derek 

Page 13: Tiffani Thiessen goes grocery shopping (picture), Placido Domingo performs in Italy at his first concert since contacting coronavirus (picture), Kevin Hart relaxes behind the wheel while pregnant wife Eniko pumps gas (picture), Macaulay Culkin is reminding everyone that age matters when he tweeted that he’s turning 40 

Page 14: Before he hit the jackpot with the British version of The Office Ricky Gervais and his longtime girlfriend lived above a brothel because they has absolutely no money, David Arquette is going to great lengths to revive his wrestling career for a new documentary called You Cannot Kill Me where he undergoes an excruciatingly painful wax job on particularly sensitive body part including his buttocks and in the film he strips stark naked for a spray tan and flashes viewers full-length shots of all his assets as he gets freshly orange-tinted skin blow-dried, Fashion Verdict -- Monica Bellucci 2/10, Kate Bosworth 7/10, Kristen Bell 8/10, Julianne Hough 9/10 

Page 16: Kate Winslet says she and co-star Saoirse Ronan decided to self-choreograph their racy lesbian sex scene in the film Ammonite, R. Kelly got a brutal beatdown from a fellow inmate in a Chicago lockup while he was asleep in his cell and a thug with F**k the Feds inked on his face stomped on Kelly’s head and tried to stab him with a pen because the attacker blamed the appearance of Kelly’s supporters outside the jail for triggering recent prison lockdowns 

Page 17: Tim McGraw and Faith Hill are on the road to Splitsville as they tussle over where to live their lives as empty nesters -- Faith wants to permanently relocate to California while Tim refuses to budge from Nashville -- their daughter Gracie is living in L.A. pursuing an acting career and Faith wants to follow suit even though she was panned for her work in the flop The Stepford Wives in 2004, Susan Schneider Williams the heartsick widow of tragic funnyman Robin Williams says she and her husband were told to sleep in separate beds as the ailing star struggled with insomnia in the years before his 2014 suicide 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Padma Lakshmi, Steve Carell ditched cult hit The Office after seven seasons in 2011 but he recently revealed shooting his farewell episode was emotional torture, Laurence Fishburne is out of The Matrix revealing he has not been invited to appear in the fourth installment of the blockbuster film series and although he won’t be rejoining stars Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss he admits sci-fi sage Morpheus is probably the role he’ll be best remembered for 

Page 21: True Crime 

Page 24: Cover Story -- Blood in the Streets 

Page 26: Health Report 

Page 36: The simmering feud between Madonna and Elton John has erupted into an all-out war with the vengeful Madonna gloating as tormented Elton wages a heart-rending legal battle with his ex-wife -- Madonna is thrilled over Elton’s agonizing court battle because she’s hated him since 2012 when he slammed her as a fairground stripper and called her tour a disaster -- Elton is in a painful brawl in a London court with his former spouse Renate Blauel who accused Elton of shaming her by forcing her into the limelight with his blabbing about their doomed romance in his recent memoir and bio-flick, Mel C claims she and her Spice Girls bandmates were never harassed by men in the music industry because dudes were petrified of the all-female pop group known for their Girl Power slogan 

Page 38: Real Life 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- screwball actor Jim Belushi has a really nutty solution to America’s homeless problems: he wants to stone them but not with rocks with pot 

Page 45: This Is Us star Chrissy Metz has finally gotten over her heartbreaking split from boyfriend Hal Rosenfeld two years ago and now is asking co-star Mandy Moore to help find her a new love, Toni Braxton has one big regret which is she wishes she’d partied hardier and had more sex during her younger years but she insists it’s not too late to add more notches to her belt 

Page 47: Hollywood Flashback -- Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey in 1987′s Dirty Dancing, Bizarre But True  

[prize-winning-conker]

Speaking of that daft column, it’s now more an essay, but ehh. He’s given me free reign so may as well make it count and make sure I upset someone. Think it’s done so have it early...

I was eight years old and in hospital, the cliché picture with a band aid on forehead and arm in splint. Mom hadn’t sat the entire time she’d been at my bedside - all three hours to that point. Lovingly fretting, you ask? Nope. Glaring down at me. I knew she was, her arms were folded and her weight shifted from one foot to the other as her exasperation grew, but I hadn’t dared to look all the way up to check. Eventually she cracked. 

“What have I told you?” 

That day would be the first time my mom’s most important lesson made sense to me, though it would take a number of years for me to fully absorb it. 

We were at recess. A group of classmates pulled me to one side. Their frisbee had got stuck in the tree, too high for anyone to throw a ball and knock. Could you fetch it for us? I wasn’t sure, it was pretty high and far out on the branch. But you know how to climb trees, they said, you climb the highest and fastest out of everyone. Won’t you help? It’s not fair if you don’t, you only need to shake the branch a little... They had a point. I was the best, and it wouldn’t be hard for me to do. They wouldn’t get it back that recess otherwise, so I agreed with a smile. 

It was high up. Even with my speed, by the time I reached the branch in question the gaggle of classmates had swollen to half the playground cheering me on, finally attracting the attention of horrified teachers. One called out, I panicked at their tone and slipped, slamming my head on a branch and landing with one arm outstretched futilely to break my fall. 

Apparently I went thud. I don’t remember that last part, though my classmates would argue over the exact noise for a week. I do remember being pinned to a board in the back of an ambulance, trying to get the paramedics to understand my mom was going to kill me if she found out. Too late, they said, she was on her way to the hospital. She’ll be there already, I said, to which they laughed. They stopped with a choke when they opened the back of the ambulance and there she was, glowering up at me with her jaw set. That was the last time I would look her in the eye for the next few hours. 

We said nothing to each other, save her sharp ‘well?’ when I was expected to answer a question she couldn’t. I passed through the hands of baffled trauma teams then X-ray staff to the children’s ward doctors. They could find nothing wrong with me other than a mild concussion, an associated graze, and a sprained wrist from my failed attempt to completely break my fall. I was very lucky, they repeatedly told me, I should have been killed from that height. I was to stay in overnight for observation. I guess they thought they’d missed something. After checking me over for the umpteenth time the final doctor left, then our stubborn battle began in earnest. 

I’m not sure why she caved first for once. Maybe because the other adults were doting on their poorly kids and glancing over like she had two heads, or because some of the other inmates were whispering about the chill in the air as her eyes bored into my skull. Most likely she knew Dad’s imminent arrival would undermine whatever lesson she had planned, his hugs and kisses ruining the gravitas, so she started as though I’d made a noise first.

“What have I told you?” 

It wasn’t a riddle. We’d talk after every episode of my favourite superhero cartoons, each time my Uncle appeared on TV as The Great Saiyaman, when I’d slip and call the martial arts and ki-techniques she was teaching me ‘superpowers’. Her mantra formed the closing lines of the bedtime stories of my parents’ hard-won battles.

You always have a choice, she’d say. But she didn’t understand, I did choose! It made sense to help. I was the best at climbing and was the only one who-- She grabbed my chin in one hand, forcing me to look her in the eye, her usual move when she wanted her words to stick. I think that’s when she got reported for her unorthodox parenting style, but that’s another story.

“That isn’t giving yourself a choice. You don’t have to risk yourself to help anyone, do you understand me?” 

I now appreciate why my mother was so vexed that day. It wasn’t at me, more it was with herself at not hammering home the message hard enough and soon enough. 

There’s a painful double standard in the world. We tell our kids to have big dreams and to do what makes them happiest, but the moment a child shows aptitude for something society finds useful they’re cajoled and pushed. Dare to take a different path and the interrogation become endless. I don't understand, the people say, you’re so talented, why didn't you follow your ideal career? Didn’t you want to be rich, or successful, or famous, or powerful? You could have been someone. We had such high hopes. If I were you… Those words sting, no matter the context or love with which they’re said. I’ve heard them a lot the past few days from confused colleagues and I don’t expect that to stop as the news filters out. 

Like all parents in some respects, my mom was fretting over whether she was doing the right thing. On the one hand her teaching would grant me immunity to most of life’s dangers. When my training was finished forget a fall, I could get hit by a truck and not budge an inch. On the other those same abilities would put me in the position to help when no one else could. If found out I would become a commodity to society, it would be deemed unreasonable and even irresponsible of me to decline to help and I'd be trapped. Even at that young age people were already tugging at my sleeves demanding small but potentially dangerous things. Like climbing trees. They’d sensed how easily my arm was twisted and over the years the pleading escalated. I’d see their distress and agree to help with that smile. Fetching balls from busy roads. Standing up to bullies. Chasing down a friend’s stolen phone - the mugger could have turned a gun on me at any point but I did as I was asked by my friend’s wordless yell. After all, who else right then and there could have help her?

Before I could blink I had a reputation. Classmates questioned why I wanted to go to college to write and not follow my dad into the police force, or even register to be a Crimefighter. Some were even angry. You’d be so good, so famous, I bet you’d be the best! You have so much potential - you shouldn’t waste it! I don’t understand - if I were you… I’d hidden as much of my training as I could and yet because I was so easily swayed to see the ‘common sense’ in helping they knew I was capable of something more than them. Escaping the path then dictated to me by society took a strength of will I would never have gained if it wasn’t for my family’s unwavering support. Without it I may have gone on to do my ‘duty’, that smile still plastered on my face, and hated every moment.

I may have sworn off a life of crime-fighting but I couldn’t turn my back completely. My closest friends, far more gifted in this arena than myself, went through the same struggle. We didn’t want the attention or the pressure of daily Hero work, we wanted a normal life to cling to. But we’re human to a fault - we couldn’t ignore all the world’s troubles. So instead we Shadowed, the best compromise we stumbled upon. We could move freely through the world as mere citizens, helping when we chose - not when summoned. Expectation still dogged us, though. When out the public saw my all-blacks not as a way to conceal my identity but as a uniform, a promise to help. They’d hide behind me, just like they would any named Hero or Crimefighter. I may have been free to come and go but in the moment my station was not. 

Shadowing came with a price; without an identity we lack a voice in defence and we became an easy target. We receive praise but it’s sparing, quite rightly the bulk is reserved for the plain-clothed volunteers on the ground. But once, where we were a welcome boost to the effort, nowadays our presence at disasters is expected. We’d fallen into doing our ‘duty’, though not correctly as we had the audacity to hide our faces and not give the journalists a sporting chance to hunt us down, and it drew their ire. I’d have to bite my tongue reading colleagues disparage us across the pages and even I couldn’t write too empathetically, lest my identity and connections become obvious. At times the lack of public understanding drove me to tears. Yet as the years passed Mom continued to stare me down. You still have a choice. But I did choose, I wasn’t a Hero really, I just needed to stay a little longer next time. Be more thorough, be faster. Do that then it’d be okay, people would be satisfied. She’d shake her head.

Then the true insignificance of this noise I’d been bending over backwards to placate became stupidly obvious with the arrival of something far worse than some natural disaster. For the briefest of moments the nonsense fell away, and I finally understood her.

Imagine standing in front of a man thousands of times more powerful than you could ever be. He’s willing to let you and the people you care about live if you just stepped aside. “What’s worth saving,” he says, “who here is worth dying for?” Imagine wondering, after days of headlines trashing you for a mistake you were more than capable of beating yourself up over, whether there even was a point to trying anymore. Nothing would ever be enough. You could leave, you could be safe. You’re not obligated to save the ingrates on this rock time and time again. What difference could your puny ass make, anyway? Why risk your life for literally nothing? Those you care about would understand. You even plan, your foot twitches to move. 

You should walk away.

But you don’t.

Because it’s your home he wants and you’ll be damned if you’re handing it over.

And that’s what my mom meant by making a free choice. Not to act because you’re asked or shamed or want to please everyone, but because this time you think it’s the right thing to do, even for selfish reasons. Especially for selfish reasons. Screw duty, unbeholden to anyone you choose to act - whether it conforms to noble expectation or not. Mom may be the type to walk away in moments like that and I know she’d rather I follow suit, but all my parents have ever truly wanted is the weight of responsibility off my shoulders. As long as I have no regrets or guilt they couldn’t be happier for me. With that one terrifying decision made in spite of the ocean of faces hiding behind me, from then on I really didn’t care what people thought of my Shadowing.

We were told we could leave that day, that we should. We’d have a better chance on the run. But until we have no other option we’re staying. Despite all its flaws this is our home and we made up our minds back then to not budge.

Next time we appear remember: we choose freely to walk through fire, toss aside that rubble, carry you above rising waters and yes, risk death literally defending the planet. All because we want to, not because it is expected of us. The words in the media and in idle chatter around us can still leave a bitter taste at times but I can safely say they won’t lead me to dwell. Say what you want to me - If I were you… but you’re not. Tough.

The name the media and public use for me is Auntie Shadow, but between us? My name is Marron, and this is how Shadowing came to pass.

[lukearmitage]

Alec Rodriguez

You can learn a lot about someone by where they are from and where they have chosen to be. Some people never leave their hometown, some people leave as soon as they can, but every once in a while someone will stay and develop their existing community into something beautifully distinguished.

Born and raised in Orange County, Alec Rodriguez grew up with a big family surrounded by nice weather, cars, and tattoos. Due to his love for art, his desire to leave a mark, and the culture he grew up in, it was only a matter of time before he fell into the career he is now fully immersed in. Alec specializes in a popular style of tattooing called ‘Black and Gray realism’ which has it’s roots in East LA’s Chicano culture.

In the 1960’s many people had to get their tattoos done behind closed doors because it was mainly seen as taboo and illegal in some parts of the world. This form of self expression was mainly reserved for outlaw bikers, sailors, and lifers in prison.

Around this time, various groups of Mexican Americans created their own street culture which developed into what was known as the ‘Pachuco lifestyle’. This eventually evolved into the ‘Cholo’ culture where they began drawing and tattooing various images that pulled from a rich Latino catalogue of symbols, designs, and script lettering.

Tattoo art flourished in prison because there was so much time to share ideas and innovate. Prison officials found that they could reduce conflict by allowing inmates to have cassette players. With the motor from a cassette player, pen shaft, and the E string of a guitar, rotary tattoo guns were more prevalent than ever. The inks were made from the ash of burned magazines mixed with water to create different shades of ink. This evolved black and gray realism due to the enhanced quality and dimension of the art.

In those days, a majority of individuals would get their stuff done at the Pike in Long Beach where ‘traditional’ tattoos were popularized by sailors and rebels. However, in 1975 Charlie Cartwright and Jack Rudy opened a shop in East LA called Good Time Charlies where they popularized the distinguishable black and gray style with the help of Freddy Negrete that had started in prison. The shop was eventually sold to Ed Hardy who helped them grow the business and evolve tattooing as whole.

What was once a sign of rebellion has morphed into something that is beyond just another way of self expression.

Alec is the product of that evolution in the flesh. Behind his glistening rolex, wide frame, and intimidating tattoos is a hardworking artist who is both humble and grateful for the opportunities he has. I spent some time with Alec at his studio, along with a couple homies (Joe and Gordo), his two dogs (Chubbs and Ruca a.ka. Sad Girl), and his 64’ Chevy Impala convertible (8-Ball).

His friend Joe casually mentions “we would always just be hanging at his house.” Alec chimes in “This was before cellphones too so you would have to cruise by and see who’s bike was out front. My spot had no rules too.” Joe jokes about Alec having 20 dogs and 20 cats. Alec interrupts him with “naw, 3 dogs and 2 cats” with laughs. “I had a big family. Four siblings. There was always someone else living with us. Always had to take care of somebody else’s kids too. I’ve always been around people, so now when I’m alone, it’s nice, but at the same time its somewhat strange to me.” Which is somewhat ironic because he grew up down the street. All his friends live down the street as well. And when they get off work, they stop by. It has a similar vibe to a club house at times. Even though everyone seems to have a rough exterior, everyone is kind and respectful, which makes for a nice environment to spend time.

So you were born and raised here correct?

Yea, born and raised here. I grew up like right down the street. My mom still lives there.

Has it changed a lot since then?

It’s changed a lot. Definitely not the same as when I was growing up.

Do you miss those times?

Well yea, everybody misses the good old days you know?

In one of your interviews, you mentioned how your pops brought you into a shop and at the time you weren’t really interested, but eventually you came around. Can you talk a little about that?

Yea, when my pops took me into the shop to try and get me into it, I remember watching the whole process. There was puddles of ink, couldn’t see anything, perfectly straight lines, and it just looked like too hard. At that time I was pretty convinced that I couldn’t tattoo. But then a short time after that, I had some friends that I had grown up doing graffiti with, They had bought some tattoo guns and started tattooing out of their garage. And I thought to myself, well, if they can do it, I can do it.

Did your pops always have a lot of tattoos?

Yeah, he has been getting tattoo’d since he was like 14.

Did most people around you and in your family have tattoos growing up?

On my dad’s side, yeah for sure. On my mom’s side, not so much.

When did you start getting into the car culture stuff?

Ever since I was a little kid. My dad had a Cadillac growing up and I just always liked cruising in it. I would always bug him because I wanted to hop in a take a ride somewhere. This is when I was like 10 or 11. I never really thought I’d own one, but I always liked classic cars.

Do you enjoy being involved with it? Can you talk a little about it?

Yea definitely, It’s huge you know? But like anything it’s so political you know? It can be kinda controversial. So I dunno, I just kinda wanna drive my car. I don’t give a fuck about this and that. Don’t really want to get too involved. Like politics and stuff.

Like street politics?

Yeah, street politics and all that. Everyone wants you to get their approval.

Growing up, was it hard to stay out of trouble at all?

I mean, it’s never hard to stay out of trouble, just like it’s never hard to not party, you know what I mean? And then shit gets real and you end up in a place where you’re saying to yourself “aww, I shouldn’t have done that”.

Did tattooing help you stay away from all the bullshit?

Yea definitely, when I was about 18, I was fresh out of high school, my mom was like, “you have to get a job”, and I was “but I have a job” and she was like “I don’t really care, you have to go to school”. But I was frustrated because I had just graduated, I didn’t want to go to school. So I ended up taking a bunch of art classes because I liked it and just needed to meet the minimum requirement for my financial aid. So I was doing that, taking a bunch of bullshit classes, didn’t really know what the fuck I wanted to do. And then came the story with my pops and he took me to the shop. That was all during that whole process.

And at this time you were 19?

18. I got my apprenticeship with Goodfellas when I was 19. I was just a little-ass kid right there at Goodfellas Tattoo Shop with the big dogs. 19 Year old kid spending time with grown-ass men.

How did that make you feel?

It was intimidating as fuck. I was super intimidated. Especially because I knew who Steve Soto was and I looked up to him. And then to like be working for him it was just some starstruck type shit.

You seem like someone who really cares about the art, based on your stuff and your skill level. How were you able to learn so fast?

I get asked that a lot and some people say to me “oh you’re just naturally talented”. I feel like it isn’t so much talent as much as it is trial and error, practice. I always just enjoyed it and wanted to get better at it on my own. I was never really in competition with anyone or anything, it was more for myself. I just wanted to be a great artist.

What do you think was the driving force behind that?

As a kid, I just always loved art. It was just for myself. I wasn’t getting paid for it. I just genuinely enjoyed it. Then I got into graffiti from like 14-17 and I thought I was gonna do that as a career. Got arrested a few times and kinda realized that it probably wasn’t gonna work out.

How did you develop your style and technique? I feel like graffiti is way different than your aesthetic?

Total opposite right? Total opposite. I tell a lot of people, to this day, that I love abstract art and people don’t believe me because of the style that I do. I’m a big fan of it because my roots are from graffiti. But when I was taking all my art classes I was taking life drawing, the teacher was teaching us how to draw the models face, and I started becoming obsessed with making shit look real as fuck. And it just kinda snowballed from there.

You mentioned Steve Soto, are there some other tattoo artists or just artists in general that inspire you?

There were some local big graffiti crews that I was into MSK …CBS. Those guys were the shit.

What inspires you to wake up, do your thing and keep coming to work everyday?

I mean besides all my bills telling me “you gotta get the fuck up and go to work homie,” um, I dunno, I just enjoy what I do. If I sleep in and I’m running late, I just text myself that I’m gonna be late.  

You feel like you’re doing what you’re supposed to do. Like being an artist is your purpose in life?

I think so yea. I sometimes have feelings of wanting to do something else inside the art realm. I just love what I do and I have been drawing since I was a little kid. I love leaving my mark on things. I used to do that. I used to carve “Alec was here” on stuff and my mom would beat my ass. She would be like “Alec, did you do this?” and I would be like “no” and she would just sit there like… “it’s your name dumbass…. what do you mean you didn’t write it?” But I just love leaving my mark on stuff. Which is funny because now I do it with tattooing everyday.

When did you open your private studio up?

Just hit a year.

What was the reasoning for wanting to do that?

I get asked that a lot actually, but I dunno, it was just like an inner feeling that I was just ready to do my own thing. I always have to be close to work. I hate commuting. I was there seven years, so I was just kinda ready to have my own space. Spread my wings.

What was the inspiration for the interior design?

If you were in here the day I opened the doors, it is not the same. I change shit up consistently over here. But I dunno, I just always liked a lot of artwork on the walls. Just a lot of stuff to keep the people entertained while they are here. I always liked the super clean look, just very minimal. Not too cluttered.

A lot of people get tattoos after significant events in their life? Do you feel like a therapist sometimes having to talk to people during the tattoo process?

You know what, I call that ink therapy. I go through those phases myself. It really is therapeutic getting tattooed. I tell these guys here all the time, I joke around like “yea I’m a tattoo artist and a part-time therapist”. Just cause you know, I’m sitting next to the client for like 10 hours. That’s just one session. You get to know someone pretty well, especially after a few sessions. You’re literally sitting there touching their skin. I am helping them tell their story through their skin. I interpret it through my artwork.

The view on tattoo culture is more mainstream now?

Yeah most definitely. And it’s good for me, but everything has its pros and cons. Since it’s more acceptable, I have people with 9-5 jobs coming in here and getting tattoos which is great. But you also have kids going and getting tattoo’s on their face looking like a kindergartners sketch book. I’m glad it’s more acceptable, but some people take things too far.

Do you feel like you’ve changed a lot since you started?

When I was 19... I mean, shit, every 18/19 year old thinks they know everything, but I started working at a shop with grown-ass men with kids and families… and they kinda let me know how things are. They shaped me in a good way you know what I mean? I grew up real quick, just being around them.

Did they humble you?

Yea, most definitely. That’s why I was so grateful you know? Like a lot of people at that age don’t have influences like that. A lot of people have parents who say things like, “don’t do that shit, you’re gonna get arrested”. But you kinda just disregard their opinion. But when it’s somebody you look up to or respect in a different way, you tend to listen a different way. We all have love and respect for our parents obviously. I was just more keen on what the fuck the guys at the shop had to say. Even though it was the same shit my mom used to say. With your parents, sometimes you think they are just trying to control you, but with a friend and a coworker, they are really just looking out for you.

In one of your prior interviews you mentioned the word respect quite a bit. Can you talk a little bit about that and how it applies to you?

Respect is a huge fuckin’ thing you know? If you can’t go into somebodies house and respect it, that just says a lot about your character you know what I mean? If I was to go up in your house and I was to put my feet up on your couch and shit, you’re gonna be like “what are you doing?” Like respect my house, you wouldn’t do that at your mom’s house you know? Your mom would slap the shit out of you. Respect, you know what I mean?

You know what it comes down to? I got it tatt’d right here. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Treat other motherfuckers how you would want to be treated.

Last time I got one of my tattoos from you, your brother was starting to apprentice with you? But now it looks like he’s tattooing full-time and doing his own thing?

Yea yea, he works here with me. He’s still here.

Have you been able to take him under your wing and kinda show him what’s up?

Yea yea, I let him do his own thing. I’m here for him, I try to help him develop his craft as well. But at the end of the day it is up to someone personally to take the initiative and develop their skill, technique, and overall craft. I can only say so much. You know what I mean? I tell him like, “you literally have to get up and do the work. But if you have any questions along the way, I gotchu”.

Were there some struggles and difficulties you had to overcome to get to where you were? Or did everything flow pretty smooth for you because you feel like you took the right path?

I mean everything flowed pretty nicely for me and I am grateful for that, but of course there was trial & error periods and hardships. Just like everything, it has its politics. You are looked down upon at first because you have to start somewhere, you’re not good, or you’re not qualified. So you have to pay your dues for a little while.

Would you change anything?

Naw, I wouldn’t change shit. I’ve been so blessed to be where I’m at and to have gone through what I’ve gone through and still be here.

If you weren’t tattooing what do you think you would be doing?

*Deep exhale…. Stares off in the distance…  Honestly, I don’t really know. I don’t even really want to know. I’d hate to see an alternate reality where I could see myself without tattooing. Before tattooing I was just working at Stater Brothers and shit… you know? Just going nowhere fast.

What’s your future looking like? What are your plans? What do you have lined up? Traveling?

You know what, I used to travel so much. Honestly it’s really nice to not have any travel plans coming up. Knowing that I am just going to be home. I love traveling, I love all the places I’ve been to, I’m blessed to have been able to go there, but traveling is just so stressful. It’s a bitch and a half. So I’m content right now with just being here and doing my thing.

As far as like the long run, the future, I don’t really know. Where do I see myself in five years type thing, I don’t really know, I’d like to eventually have a more walk in type of shop environment instead of a private studio, hopefully, but only time will tell.

I imagine a lot people come from out of town to get work done from you?

Yea, the guy I tattoo’d yesterday was from Australia. People come from everywhere you know, Canada, Germany, Wherever you know? I had a guy come from Japan.

If they want to book an appointment, what’s the best way?

Just email me or go through the website.

alecrodrigueztattoo.com alecrodrigueztat2@gmail.com @alecrodrigueztattoo

Sources: Schwartz, E. (Director). (2013). Tattoo Nation [Video file]. United States: Visions Verite. Retrieved April 24, 2019, from https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2207870/

[theliterateape]

Harmless Experiment — A Terrible Serial Killer

by Erik Lewin

My mother had a great sense of humor. She appreciated funny movies, and she knew I loved them too. We’d go to the local theater sometimes. We didn’t have a lot of dough, my dad was an entrepreneur surviving week-to-week, but he still managed to buy my mom a sandy beige sports car. I think he knew what a pain in the ass he was to live with—that’s another story—so this was his tiny way of making amends.

My mom was a beauty. This was not my biased estimation, it was objective fact. She came from Israel as a little girl and her complexion was imbued with that light, dark sweetness. Her brown hair was long and very soft. She had high cheekbones too, so between all these traits, nobody could ever figure out where she was from. A true exotic. Most strikingly, her eyes were never accusing or threatening. They were innocent. Very smart too, and aware, which made their innocent quality all the more impressive. She chose to see the good in all things.

I have always had a thing for Chevy Chase movies. The weekend Spies Like Us opened, the one where he plays alongside Dan Aykroyd, was an absolute must see. The commercials looked hilarious and captivated my attention. I’d lay on the Berber carpet in our living room, propped up on two giant Persian pillows, and slide my little fingers over the channel switches on the black box remote. I kept clicking the different channels all day to catch another glimpse of the commercial with the Spies Like Us trailer. Naturally I was begging my mom to go to the theater, and it was an easy sell because she was into it too.

We jumped into the hot new car. My mom lit a cigarette, turned on the radio station WPLJ that played rock tunes–Bon Jovi’s Livin On a Prayer was released recently and came on–and we sang along to its rousing chorus. I rubbed my feet on the plush mat and didn’t even mind the cigarette smoke too much. When we got to the theater we discovered we weren’t the only ones excited about the movie–it sold out right after we got our tickets. They overbooked it, all the seats were taken, but we just sat on the floor in the back. We left in absolute stitches, joking about how we were about to pee ourselves during so many hilarious scenes in the movie.

Then I broke this piece of news to her: that I would need to purchase ten lab mice for a science fair experiment I was assigned to do with my friend, Sam. She groaned for a couple reasons–Sam and I couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble together–and mice? I assured her that Sam would actually give the mice, who were our test subjects and needed to be watched carefully–room and board at his parents’ house. I simply had to give him cash for the purchase, and after a little hesitation, mom forked it over for the mice, food and a cage.

Sam was one of my closest little buddies. We were kind of allies as inmates in a religious day school. We cracked jokes during daily services and passed notes during all our classes. The last time I slept over his place, we tossed huge water balloons at oncoming cars. We scored a direct hit on one Buick, the water splashing across the windshield, damn near causing the driver to crash right into a tree. He chased us back to Sam’s house. His mother caught us making this fast escape, and we giggled while the man barked that his life was almost cut short by a couple dumb kids.

We were also pretty poor students. In my case, I was severely challenged in math and science. It didn’t interest me, other than whether Lysol spray could actually make a fart catch fire. We had this total hot, bitchy lady for a science teacher. She was short with her students, always admonishing us to hand in our outstanding assignments.

The big thing was the science fair. It was a major part of the year’s grade, but more than that, it required an idea, a scientific experiment of some sort to actually do and then present to the school. You were allowed a partner. Sam and I teamed up and one day we hung around his place with his stepfather, Rick, who was in construction. We came up with this idea we thought would be so cool – Rick could help us build a maze out of wood and we could run mice through it. As stupid as that sounds, we took it to another level when we added the necessary ‘scientific experiment’ twist–we would split lab mice into two groups. One group would subsist on their usual diet, while we’d ply the other with drugs, then set both loose to see which performed better. In other words, how would a massive, continual injection of sugar affect the animals’ ability to negotiate the maze. The other test group would be cared for in the ‘normal’ fashion, as in, not torturing and slowly killing them. It was a fantastically idiotic idea that we set to work on with great relish. Rick helped us with the materials and the building of the maze, and we agreed that Sam would house them.

This plan worked… for a while. I’d go to Sam’s to work on our plan that violated every letter of the animal cruelty law. We named each mouse after a part of the name of our hero, New York Yankee Don Mattingly, whose name is forever tarnished. We gassed up half the mice with a dropper full of liquid sugar and got them crazy wired. We had to constantly adjust the dosage because at first, they were too overloaded and were climbing the walls of the maze, not trying to run through it. Meanwhile, the well-nourished group was struggling to escape, but were coming quite close. Turns out a diet of food and water is quite conducive to optimum performance.

All of this was working, actually–we recorded our observations in a notebook by each individual mouse and monitored their progress. It looked like we’d be okay. Then I got a phone call from Sam that his family had to go out of town for the weekend, unexpectedly, and asked if I could take the mice and keep them at my place.

I knew my mom wouldn’t be too thrilled but hey, it was for school, and they’d just be in the cage. I took the mice off Sam’s hands and left them in my room so my parents wouldn’t be reminded they now ran a rodent rescue. After I came back from school, it was time to avoid doing any homework, and go shoot some hoops in the playground. Sam called to check in and I assured him the mice were all fine, feeding away and rustling around in the cage. They were my test subjects and while I wouldn’t exactly call them cute, I was impressed with myself for having a real experiment in progress. I’d even begun to grow fond of the little guys.

When I came back from the playground, sweaty and hungry, I ducked into my room and undressed for the shower. It was eerily quiet. No rustling. The cage was empty! Nerves prickled my neck and arms. Holy shit… holy shit, I kept repeating in my puberty addled brain, investigating the cage for any magician’s trap door they may have slipped into, just having a little fun with Erik, when the cat’s away the mice will play, right?

They weren’t under the bed. They weren’t making a sound. Where the hell had seven lab mice gone? Then I heard bumping noises behind my dresser, which was long and wide and pushed up against the wall. I stuck my head in the crack and saw a couple of those suckers running back and forth along its length. We had trained them well. Then I heard the radiator clang. I got down on all fours and craned my neck under the bottom of the it, and sure enough, there was a hole in the wall! How many of our prize mice had made a daring POW escape to my neighbo’s apartment? It then occurred to me that the door to my room was open the whole time I’d been at the playground. The rest of them must be loose everywhere—

There were no options. I had to bring my mother into this. Better she know now, than to open a cupboard in the kitchen and have a mouse fly out of it. 

         “Uh, mom, you’re not gonna like this.”

         “You playing ball before homework? Not really. Get in the shower and get ready for dinner. No games, phone or TV. Do your homework.” She was busy in the dinette, with bills and papers spread out in piles under the warm yellow light. She dragged from a smoke and waved me away. 

         “But mom, you don’t understand.”

         “I understand fully well, young man, you weren’t suppo—”

         A tiny face with whiskers stuck its head out from under her papers.

         “Ahhhhhh!!!” She leapt from the chair.

         The little guy squeaked and ran around the table.

         “That’s what I was trying to tell you!” I laughed. “They’re out! They got outta the cage in a wild bid for freedom!” 

         “We have to catch them before your father comes home,” she said, the anger leaving her eyes in favor of its usual softness. She smiled. “Were there other sightings?”

         “My bedroom–the scene of the crime–I’ll show you.”

 After my mom surveyed the challenge facing us behind the dresser, and the hole in the radiator, she said: “We can’t have these guys getting a free ride, staying here like this and not paying any rent.” We giggled. “As far as the hole in the radiator, I think Mrs. Silvestry will finally have some of the company she’s always wanted.”

         “You’re not worried about the mice spreading around the building?” I asked.

         “What mice?” My mom said, crossing her arms. “Get dressed, we need to go to the pet store.”

 I threw my dirty clothes back on and we jumped in the car. We were at a pet shop next to my mom’s bank in five minutes flat. She instructed me to go in and procure traps–it was my mess and I needed to figure out how to clean it up.

         “What if we can’t round them all up? Should I get new mice?”

         “Not if you still want to live here.”

         “Ok, I’m going.” What the hell was Sam gonna say when I told him about the great escape?

         “Welcome to Pet land,” I heard when I walked in. I’d never had so much as a hamster, so this animal kingdom was totally foreign to me. Huge fish tanks, colorful birds squawking, reptiles, and the strange intermingled smells of different creatures surrounded me. I went to the front counter where the man had greeted me. He was in his late teens, mullet haircut, flannel cutoff at the arms, thin scruff under his chin. He had a look in his eyes like he could tell you exactly what it said when you played Ozzy Osbourne records backwards.

         “I need help. I’ve got a bunch of lab mice loose in my house.”

         “Alright, gotcha. So you need traps. Aisle three.”

         “Maybe you could… uh, do the traps keep them alive and unharmed? How does it work, I’ve never hunted an animal before.”

He spit out hubba bubba gum into his hand and tossed it in the trash.

         “You running a shelter? You set the traps and that’s that, they’re in there. Can’t get out. Our bestseller is the glue trap, they won’t get outta that, trust me. I’ll show you, this way.”

I was mortified. Back in the car I showed my mom the pile of glue traps we now had at our disposal. She nodded approvingly. We went back into my room and the kitchen and living room and set up all the traps like we were on some kind of commando mission. Apparently there was a substance on the surface of the glue that attracted the poor buggers to the trap. The good news was the traps worked. That was also the bad news because the actual glue doesn’t poison the mouse, but simply holds it in place while it thrashes about in a futile effort to free itself.

         “Your father will be home soon. You have to take care of it.”

         “How?”

         “Consider this part of the experiment.”

And so I went about the grim business of being the hatchet man for these mice. My sugar riddled mice, whom I’d actually grown fond of, were now in the hands of a monster. Because when each guy was on the glue trap, looking at me with its furtive, desperate eyes, I slid him down an incinerator shoot.

         “Mom, the good news is I’d make an awful serial killer,” I said, tears wetting my cheeks.

         “My poor baby,” she said, hugging me. “And you’ll never be a scientist. But, with these kinds of misadventures, you’ll tell some good stories, just like in our funny movies.”

BUY the BOOK

[rolandfontana]

The Superpredator Myth: It’s Still Alive Behind Bars

There is a strange parallel between the history of the so-called “superpredator” and the conception of “dope fiends.”

Not too long ago, “superpredator” became the favored word of some criminologists to describe the emergence of what was considered a dangerous threat to public safety in the U.S. A ruthless criminal concealed within the body of an adolescent male, he was often black, and his habitat was the inner city.

Violent criminal conduct was a unique, and terrifying, behavioral characteristic of these young beasts. When captured, the mantra “Adult Time for Adult Crime” supported sentencing them as if they were just as culpable as their fully matured counterparts.

Similarly, a much older phrase, “dope fiend” came back into use to describe those superpredators immersed in the world of illicit drugs. The stereotype was just as brutal: He (usually a he) was conceived to be a hedonistic, nihilistic hybrid, usually having dark skin, who sometimes spoke with a Hispanic accent.

Committing crimes to support his narcotic addition was a favorite pastime. And just as in the case of violent superpredators, he was the target of the “tough on crime” policies that sent so many young black men to prison in the 1980s and 1990s for long stretches of confinement.

Fast forward to 2019.

Now, there’s a broad consensus among criminologists that the so-called superpredator is better understood as a youth whose crimes more often than not reflect transient immaturity rather than irreparable corruption, and whose skin complexions encompass the color spectrum. The U.S. Supreme Court and last year, the Washington State Supreme Court, relied upon the attendant neurodevelopmental research findings to invalidate some of the harshest penalties for the kinds of juvenile offenders once written off as unreformable superpredators.

Even heinous crimes committed by young people are now viewed through a prism that mitigates their culpability.

I was once in the superpredator category myself. I received a life-without-parole sentence for my involvement in a murder at age 14—a crime that I have regretted ever since.

But the courts’ new approach gave me—and many others in similar situations—a path for hope. My sentence was amended retroactively, and I was given an opportunity to be freed. I received mercy.

But the stereotyped “dope fiend” version of the superpredator still stunts the lives of thousands of inmates in U.S. prisons today who were sentenced for crimes committed when they were young—despite a growing body of research that has made that version anachronistic.

For one thing, opioid addiction is no longer, sadly confined, to the poor young person of color.

We all realize that the opioid epidemic in America has destroyed the lives of soccer moms and rural white teenagers just as much as it has youths in the inner city.

The broad consensus that dealing with this crisis requires a public health approach rather than criminal justice machinery has spread to policymakers at federal, state and local levels.

But not to prisons.

All too often, these ameliorative approaches are only being implemented at the front end of the criminal justice system. Unlike former superpredators such as myself, mercy has yet to be applied retroactively to the sentences of opioid addicts imprisoned while they were young. Their lives are untouched by the contemporary recognition that their crimes were not simply a product of free will, opportunity and a rational calculus.

The case of Corey Irish provides one illustration of why such former drug “superpredators” should receive relief—notwithstanding the fact that their crimes occurred long before overdosed bodies began to pile up in refrigerator trucks from West Virginia to Ohio.

Drugstore Robbery

Late in the evening of April 23, 2007, in Tacoma, Wash., Daniel Garibay was just about to turn away from the customer he finished serving through the drive‑through window at Walgreen’s pharmacy when he heard a loud thump on the floor behind him.

He would never forget the sound.

“I mean, I’d never heard something like that,” he testified, according to trial transcripts.

The sound was Corey Irish landing on the floor after he leapt over the counter. The young man immediately began demanding drugs by their generic and non-generic names.

“When he first jumped in, at first he asked for Percocet, Oxycodone, and Vicodin…then it seemed like he just wanted anything,” Garibay told the jury during Irish’s trial in Pierce County Superior Court.

He was stunned when Irish pulled out two trash bags and told Garibay to fill them up. According to Garibay, “They looked like forceflex bags. He told me which drugs he wanted, and then he asked me to put them in the bags after I opened the cabinet.”

Meanwhile, Irish’s accomplice, who stood guard over the other two employees after flashing a gun in his waist line and corralling them into the stockroom, kept apologizing.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, you know…Just be quiet,” Jeanelle O’Dell recounted the accomplice saying as he made her kneel on the floor.

‘He kept apologizing for what he was doing’

Mike Staten also recalled, “He kept apologizing for what he was doing, saying he wanted to be in and out.”

Back in the pharmacy, Garibay had moved on to filling up a third garbage bag that Irish made him get after the two that Irish brought with him were filled to capacity. Ten minutes elapsed from the loud thump Irish made when he landed behind the counter to when he finally lifted the bags filled with childproof bottles, summoned his accomplice from the stockroom, and began to leave with his haul of prescription narcotics.

The police arrived before the men escaped from the scene. Irish was arrested with the bags of OxyContin, Percocet, Valium and Vicodin, and everything in between. His accomplice fled empty-handed and was never apprehended by the police.

During the closing arguments of Irish’s trial, Sunni Ko, the deputy prosecuting attorney, rhetorically asked the jury, “Ladies and gentlemen, again, what do you think he was going to do with three bags of drugs? Do you think that he was going to keep them in his room and have it for personal use for the rest of his life?”

The notion that an addiction to prescription medication was powerful enough to make anyone do such a thing stretched belief. His intent was obviously to distribute the pills for profit, Ko argued to the jury.

The jury agreed.

At sentencing, Irish, who met the DSM-IV-TR criteria for opioid dependency, explained to the judge, “We wasn’t trying to hurt anybody. We just wanted some pills. And besides…I do pop pills, constantly. That’s why—not making excuses on any of that—but I mean, I do have a problem.

“Whether it was one bottle or 100 bottles I took, it was going to be a robbery anyway, so I mean, a thousand apologies, especially to the victims.”

His mother, a high school teacher, told the judge how she had tried to convince her son to get treatment before the crime occurred. His aunt, an assistant mayor, also implored the court, writing, “Corey needs the opportunity to enter a program where he can receive help for the drug problem and counseling to get to the root of his problems.”

The judge empathized with Irish’s family, but she had no sympathy for Irish.

He was sentenced to spend the next quarter century in the care of the Washington Department of Corrections—a prison term that exceeds the minimum sentence a defendant would serve for committing premeditated murder.

The Paradigm Shift

Criminal justice officials in Ohio probably would not be surprised upon hearing that someone tried to steal garbage bags filled with prescription pills from a pharmacy in a robbery. There, the opioid epidemic is so devastating that the foster care system has been overwhelmed by children who have become the detritus of addicted parents.

Tom Synan, Newtown Ohio’s Police Chief, has come to believe that addiction should no longer be considered a crime.

“It took 70,000 people to die before society shifted its opinion on opioid addiction,” he observed during a symposium sponsored by The Washington Post, headlined Addiction in America, The New War on Drugs.

Experts on substance use disorders who have tracked the etiology of opioid addiction would also see a familiar theme with respect to how Irish went from being a supervisor at a fabrication company to the perpetrator of a drug store robbery.

After suffering a back injury in 2006, he was prescribed OxyContin during a period when pharmaceutical companies where downplaying its addictive properties, financial incentives led doctors to over-prescribe opioid pain medications, and the naive failed to perceive the signs of misuse and abuse going on around them because addicts did not fit the stereotypical image of a dope fiend.

They resided in the heartland.

They worked and went to church on Sundays.

They weren’t dark-skinned and had no accent.

During the 12 years that have elapsed since Irish was confined, legions of young men and women went from pilfering their parents’ pills when they were teenagers and snorting them with friends to shooting heroin. Nurses have lost their jobs for stealing narcotics from their elderly patients. Countless men and women have lost custody of their children.

Let us pause for a moment to reflect on the crack epidemic, the policies it generated, and the character attacks on the addicts. Whether America learned from these mistakes or the socio-demographic and white complexion of many contemporary opioid addicts brought enlightenment with respect to this latest drug epidemic, I can only guess.

In any case, the criminal justice system is already bursting at the seams due to mass incarceration. It therefore comes as no surprise to me that officials have lost the appetite to use demonization and imprisonment as expedients for dealing with the opioid epidemic—especially since the problem exists within their own communities.

I can imagine policymakers deliberating about establishing drug courts, implementing diversion programs, and funding more treatment centers now that a drug epidemic is not confined to the inner city.

“These people need help. They have a disease. We can’t just lock them up and throw away the key,” I can hear them saying.

Left Out

But those still confined before these sentiments affected the criminal justice system are seemingly left out of such discussions.

Recall that retribution was warranted because it was believed that these people were driven solely by their criminogenic needs. Their addictions, in and of itself, manifested they had little interest in being a part of law-abiding society.

But that was the past. The scientific consensus that opioid addiction is a disease undermines the deterrent and retributive purposes of punishment in these cases, leaving only incapacitation for rehabilitation.

Regardless, those confined before this paradigm shift have got nothing coming. Far too many of them present unsympathetic images due to their current convictions and dark skin complexions.

But make no mistake about it: If 10,000 soccer moms were languishing in prison for pulling capers to obtain prescription pain medication, lawyers would be battling to get them executive clemency or, alternatively, judicial relief based on arguments that these new socio-medical findings satisfy the legal standard for newly discovered evidence and warrant resentencing hearings to present mitigating factors in support of reducing their prison sentences.

Jeremiah Bourgeois

That said, it remains a mystery how many years will pass before policymakers provide relief to those locked away in penitentiaries because their disease drove them to commit crimes to secure more—and more—prescription pain medication.

Until then, Corey Irish will continue serving out a sentence that exceeds the minimum term that is imposed on those who commit premeditated murder.

Jeremiah Bourgeois is a regular contributor to The Crime Report, and a recent graduate of Adams State University, where he earned an interdisciplinary degree in criminology and legal studies. Since 1992, he has been confined in Washington State for crimes that he committed at age fourteen. He is currently petitioning for release. Readers who wish to support him are invited to sign up here. He welcomes comments.

The Superpredator Myth: It’s Still Alive Behind Bars syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[kayleenunley-blog]

Why My Ex-Boyfriend Will Always Be My Best Friend

One of my biggest pet-peeves about going to a small school, and being seen with Trevor is the famous line, ‘’You two would be a cute couple’’. The thing about that is: we were. 

When I moved schools, Trevor was the first boy to catch my eye. I remember talking to his friend and asking if they were together because they were close to each other. She replied, ‘’No. Do you want me to get you guys together?’’ I couldn’t believe that those words just left her mouth! Of course I wanted Trevor to be my boyfriend. I was 11 years old, and I wanted a boyfriend. The last time I had an actual boyfriend was in the third grade with a boy named Kasey. Our relationship hit the rocks after a long three hours together. Trevor’s friend introduced us, and we started to all eat lunch together. It turns out that Trevor and I shared a lot of interests. He loved to sing and was in choir with me, he also liked to ride four wheelers, (which was a huge hobby of mine when I was younger). Soon enough, Trevor and I were dating. I was so exited to have a boyfriend, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way. After a few weeks, Trevor and I didn’t act like a couple anymore. He didn’t sneak away from the choir two minutes early to hug me and tell me that he loved me before he got on the bus as much as he used to. He didn’t want to be my partner on field trips anymore. I was hurt; Trevor wasn’t my boyfriend anymore. Being an 11 year old girl with hormones running wild, I didn’t know how to control my emotions. I was mad, and I wanted to make Trevor madder than me. One day at lunch, I was sitting next to Trevor’s friend, Brad. I leaned over, and whispered in Brad’s ear, ‘’Trevor has a man-gina. Pass it down.’’ I did it. Trevor was about to be so mad, and was going to take me back to avoid the drama. Little did I know that this plan was going to backfire. 

We returned to our suite after lunch and Trevor had a sad look on his face. He looked like he was about to cry. I knew I messed up the minute I laid eyes on him. ‘’We have two teachers and a guidance counselor I can talk to,’’ he said. Great. Now I was in real trouble. One of our teachers called me, Trevor, and his friend that introduced us to the back of the room while everyone else went outside. I was questioned about what happened at lunch and I denied it. Long story short, his friend told on me and I was in serious trouble. The girl and I were no longer friends, and I ended up with ISS for the next three days. Although his feelings were hurt, he forgave me, and we were friends again. Before I knew it, Trevor and I were boyfriend and girlfriend again. This time Trevor acted more like my boyfriend. He held my hand, he hugged me and told me he loved me everyday before he left, and he was even my partner on field trips again. I remember going on a field trip to our county jail. That day I decided to wear a flannel and some jeans. At that time, I thought that was my best outfit and I could never outdo myself on that one. He told me that if any of the inmates tried to flirt with me he was going to beat them up, and I held that to him. 

Trevor and I were off and on all throughout middle school. We may have tried to date again once as freshmen, but again it didn’t work out. This is when we started to become close. I wasn’t invited to many outings with Trevor and our group of friends mostly because his mom didn’t like me because of the man-gina incident. Even though we weren’t close outside of school, we were always hip and hip at school. Trevor knew everything about me, and all of my deepest, darkest secrets. He was really my best friend.

Trevor and I became closer and closer the older we grew. I loved Trevor, but I never loved him more than a friend. Our Junior year of high school, Trevor and became even closer than we were before. Yet, I let my pettiness and my jealousy consume that friendship. I wanted Trevor all to myself. We didn’t speak for a couple of weeks. Even though I missed him, I wasn’t going to lose my pride and apologize. I would walk past Trevor in the hallway and see him hugged up with other girls, and it made me sick to my stomach. Once upon a time, that was me under his arm. Everyday that I went to school, I made myself miserable because I was prideful. 

Soon enough, Trevor came back around to me even though I made it a living hell for him. I’d get snappy with him, back talk him, sometimes not even speak to him. Yet, Trevor still wanted to be around me. Trevor and I became close again. 

I am so thankful to call him my best friend. He is one of the few who has stuck around, and dealt with me even though he has had every right and reason to walk away from me. I am forever grateful for that. Trevor knows me better than anyone else, and I wouldn’t want another soul to know the things he knows about me. 

My lesson behind this story is to never let your pride take away good things from you. If Trevor wasn’t the person he is, who knows if he would still even look my way. Even though things don’t go your way, you shouldn’t flip out and ruin something so big over something so little. 

I love you Remington Trevor Scott Darago. Thank you for pushing me to be my very best. 

[littlcdeath]

//Another post about the alters, with some we were missing. This one was made by Becky like a year ago, and it’s definitely funnier than mine. Doesn’t include me because I hadn’t been out yet.

Ok, since Fae promised yesterday, here’s a general list of the people inhabiting this head. I’ll specify who age-slides, and what ages we can be when we do. I’ll actually try to specify what age everyone is. Be warned that we are well above 50, although not everyone’s active at once. I’m sorry if this is confusing. Hope the list helps • Fae- Actual owner of the body. Has not been fully “herself” since she was like 6 (when Harl got here). Always co-cons with someone because she can’t stand being out alone. Doesn’t know or care what we do with her life. Terrified of people. Has left us alone for extended periods of time. If you think you’ve talked to her, there’s a 99% chance it was actually Claire, Amanda, or me. Actually a very sweet kid, but very hurt. Will go to the end of the world for her friends. Can hold a grudge like nobody’s business. Paints herself as a bitch but is a softie. Her mom cannot tell the difference between her and me. Diabetic, to Nidia’s displeasure. Closet Gryffindor turned Slytherin in order to survive.

• Amanda – Our system’s “guard dog”/Head Bitch in Charge. Much more complicated than that. The real author of Fae’s thigh scars (barely visible now), and maybe the only reason she made it through high school. The little voice that says “kill everyone and blame it on me”. Zero concern for consequences for herself. Impulse control consists on “Jail is awful and Fae doesn’t deserve it”. She’s over 30.

• Lisbeth (Sally)- Just…Sally. The other voice that wants to kill everyone but doesn’t because she actually thinks about the consequences of her actions. Max is technically her partner, but we don’t talk about that (you can ask). I think she’s 30-something, but might as well be Fae’s age.

• Claire- Possibly Fae’s projection of herself into different universes. She can be 6, 17, 24 and 35. Last name Constantine. From Liverpool. Awful accent. Please don’t call her Australian. Another closer Gryffindor turned Slytherin. Most of Fae’s friends are actually hers. Has been Fae for longer than Fae has been Fae. Likes soccer and we’re sorry. Punk. Hella Punk. Also hella broke.

• Mara- Claire’s sister (maybe twin). Stay away from her (possibly the sexual alter, can be the same ages as Claire) Responsible for most of Fae’s awful dating decisions.

• Valentina- Rarely comes out, but she’s apparently God? We don’t know. Seems like she knows everyone, though. She always looks 20-something, but we know she’s older.

• Nidia- Claire’s daughter and the pure incarnation of Fae’s ADHD. A Jedi. Weirdest kid EVER. Super compassionate. Wears heart on her sleeve. Can be 5, 9, 16 and 21. Impulse control is 100% artificial, but existent. Can, like Amanda, drink up to 3 cans of Monster Energy Drink in a row without batting a lash. Will eat ALL THE CANDY. The reason we need to carry an extra insulin syringe with us most of the time. Pours fun dip and sweetarts into her drinks. The kind of kid child leashes were invented for.

• Hellena- Mara’s daughter. STAY AWAY. Evil incarnate. Abusive A.F. Can and will destroy you. In her 20’s

• Christine- Hell’s identical twin. Remember that girl in Mean Girls who wants to bake a cake out of sunshine and rainbows and smiles? Christine is that cake. Rarely out. Same age as Hell

• Evey- Hell and Chris’ big sister. That one kid with the pink hair and lots of tattoos. Zero impulse control. Always looks like a teenager for some reason (not over 25)

• Vlad- Agender/Genderqueer mystical creature of the forest. Valentina’s child. Awesome person in general. Permanently 17.

• Harley- Yup. THAT Harley. You know the drill. She’s actually the one who makes all the fun plans because she’s the one who has the energy for it. Gets along with everyone until she doesn’t. Can drink us all under the table. Can drink you under the table. Has been Fae for longer than Claire has been Fae. Was the first one here, so she has tattoo privileges. And dating privileges. And everything privileges, basically. If I say how old she is, I may not live to see another day. Fae’s real mum. Will take you to Petco on exam week to pet puppies. Will yell “doge!” out loud. Pets every dog. Will steal Teddy from Max.

• Edward- Mr. Nigma, sir. Somehow has better makeup skills than all the girls here combined. If his attitude was as nice as his eyebrows, he’d rule the world by now. EVERYTHING HAS QUESTION MAKRS. Knows more than anyone. Is actually a genius. Wastes his time trying to school the little ones (and trying to get Naya to use proper words). Smug bastard. Probs 40-something.

• Cass- Also from comics. EVERYTHING IS YELLOW (yiyo). Doesn’t talk much, but is always fun to have around. Will make you watch animated movies and take you to Starbucks. Will also make you work out. Can be 5, 9, 18 and 25. Smol Cass is a fan of pokemon. If it’s yellow, it belongs to her. • Naya- Cass’ child. Has her own language, featuring words like “kaijukata”, “pakato”, and “omashii” (“Kaiju attack”, an insult of her own invention, and her word for “mother”.) There are no sidewalks, only pedestrian lanes. Biggest Kaiju Enthusiast. Wants to be Mako Mori.

• M.J.- Has been here for as long as Harley has. Isn’t around as much. The difference between her and Claire is that you can actually understand what MJ says when she gets mad. Probs 25 forever.

• Danni- Amanda’s daughter. Will also fuck you up. Has the weirdest kinks. 23

• Miranda- Danni’s daughter. Don’t ask. Also a sexual alter. 21

• Martha- Miranda’s sister. Level-headed. A psychiatrist. 21. Actual most mature person in this head, along with Tári.

• Alice- Nidia’s daughter. Also a psychiatrist. Likes psychoanalyzing people. Type 1 bipolar. Thinks all Arkham inmates are humans and wants to help. Will probably end up as an Arkham Inmate herself. Age slides. Toddler Alice is the devil. Can be 5, 9, and 21

• Alyssa- Mara’s best friend. Take Alice out of wonderland and teach her ballet, then add a sprinkle of Luna Lovegood. Permanently 17-ish. • Robin- Alice’s little sister. Wants to be Carrie Kelly when she grows up. Terrified of squirrels. Can be 5 and 18.

• Tári- Alice and Robin’s eldest sister. Asperger’s. Genius extraordinaire. Loves to talk to Eddie. Often one of them leaves the conversation feeling stupid (it isn’t Tári). Loves Legos. REALLY LOVES LEGOS. Forensic Anthropologist/wants to be Bones when she grows up. Vegetarian. Can be 12/21.

• Frances- Harley’s kid. Don’t ask, this was super weird. Frances herself is super weird. She hears voices. The voices tell her to do things. She rarely listens. Actually super polite. Has “opal” hair. 18-20. We don’t really know. If we’re gonna have a sub-system, it will probably be because of Frankie.

• Shilo- Shilo Wallace. Infected by her genetics. Her nightmares are the worse. Once made Amanda and sally fight over a pair of combat boots just so she could get to keep them. Probably my best friend in here.

• Bellatrix- That one got here on her own. Over 50. Still looks great.

• Cassiopeia- Bella’s biggest mistake. Best teacher ever. Resident hipster chick. Looks like Zoey Deschanel. Is actually here to keep a little group of alters from causing too much mayhem. 23.

• Ascella- Lesbian extraordinaire. Sees dead people. I’m not even kidding. Permanently 23.

• Jamie M.- Another one who got here on her own. Our self confidence boosts and power trips. Will maybe kill someone. Better than you and is not afraid to let you know. Fae’s teachers were terrified of her. Everyone’s terrified of her; I don’t know who we think we’re kidding. 32.

• Lestat- Fae’s gay vampire boyfriend. Is rarely around anymore. Probably for the best. 260-ish years old. Prick.

And I’m missing a lot of others, but I’ll now introduce myself.

I really don’t want to say my name, because…well, I’m still not used to all this. I’ve been here for a little less than a year. Got here to protect Fae from a possibly harmful relationship. Did not work. Voted “Mom Alter” by the little ones (and some of the grown-ups). Apparently, too much like the kid. They call me “morbid” for some reason (not my fault everyone here is super fainthearted). Always cold and always in pain. I also age-slide and kind of don’t like it. 20-25. If we cancel plans, it’s most likely my fault and I’m sorry.

So yeah. This would be the general list of people you may encounter here. As I said, I may be missing some, but they’re either rarely active or not here for the time being. Feel free to talk to any of us at any moment, or ask to talk to anyone if you’d like. We have some degree of control over who’s out, so…yeah. And we’re always happy to meet new people. Well, some of us.

Anyway, that’d be all for now. Thanks for reading, and I hope this isn’t –too- weird.