#olas excerpts

[singaroundelay]

FIC: Anonymous Sources, Or Trent Crimm is Telling the Truth

Remember when I said I'd be writing more episode codas? Whelp, here we go... BARELY done in time for tonight's episode!

TITLE: Anonymous Sources, Or Trent Crimm is Telling the Truth PAIRING: Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso RATING: Teen SUMMARY: A couple of really great snogging sessions does not a couple make. While he and Ted may not be together officially, Trent Crimm isn't going to sit at Ola's while Sassy hits on the guy he's not-really-but-really-wants-to-be dating. But when Trent leaves early, he sees more than he bargained for in an alley. So when the story breaks the next morning, after outing Ted's panic attacks, it's not hard for Richmond leadership to believe Trent Crimm is behind this scoop as well.

Shocker, but no one believes his denials. Out a guy's panic attacks one time... EXCERPT:

Now this is a cuisine he can get behind. Trent pats his stomach and is close to needing to roll himself out of Sam's joint. No matter what the footballer said about keeping expectations low — something something soft opening something something don't expect too much — Trent is stuffed. He really shouldn't have had that last Kokomo. Then again, maybe he's happy to eat something that doesn't have him scared of how it's going to be coming out the other end. (Sam also may have taken pity on him and steered him away from the dishes laced with chilis but that's neither here nor there.)

Even if he lives to be a hundred, it will be the one (1) dinner he never forgets.

Keep Reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46230673

[krejong]

Your WIP titles sound fun! And very cryptic, what's "Blue wonder powder milk" about?

PS: Have fun on your trip! :)

Ah, I'm afraid that might be one of those that never gets finished... I'm kind of sad about that tbh, because I quite like what I already have. The basic premise is that it's Tatort Dresden, but set somewhere at the tailend of the 1970s. (So sort of a Cold War AU, I guess) I have already done some research into the historical context, but I don't know if I'll ever get around to doing enough so that it deals sensibly with a subject I know only very little about. It's a fanfiction, of course, not a historical novel, but I always try to make things accurate if I can help it. ANYWAY, enough rambling, please have two excerpts (bc I couldn't pick) :)

"The last three weeks of her medical leave at home made her fingers itch with wanting to get back into the swing of things. That impulse was stemmed only a little by the sudden bouts of sharp pain that shot through her every time she tried to move too quickly.

One afternoon, after having long devoured the few books her family owned, she coaxed Ola into accompanying her to the library. They had to walk slowly, very slowly, and Karin could tell that her sister was biting her lip not to ask if it wouldn’t be better to give up on the idea.

It only made her more determined to keep going.

“<i>I’m going stir-crazy</i>,” she confessed to her, smiling sheepishly. “<i>I just need to get out of the house for a little bit, and get some new reading material</i>.”

Ola nodded understandingly. “<i>Yes, I imagine things must be quite boring at home when everyone’s away. You still seem to be in some pain, though. I don’t mind getting you the books you want myself until you’ve recovered more.</i>”

Of the two of them, Ola had always been the most sensible one.

“<i>Ah, but that’s where the problem lies,</i>” said Karin lightly, “<i>because I don’t know what I want.</i>” Ola looked at her incredulously. “<i>Kaśka, forgive me when I say that I have a hard time believing that.</i>”"

-

"“Oh,” Leo said, pressing a hand softly to her lips. Her eyes were so blue in the afternoon sun. Karin felt faint. There was a very long pause; the whole word had come to a standstill, waiting with baited breath for the end times. Even the birds were quiet.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Leo whispered, and she might as well have ripped Karin’s heart right out of her chest and crushed it with her heel until it was a bloody pulp. Karin had miscalculated. She’d thought, with the way Leo was looking at her she’d wanted it too, but she had been <i>wrong</i> and now she was going to lose her and—

“Karin, I didn’t know it could feel like this.” The shattering of an entire world in only a few syllables; her words tasted like heartbreak. The sky blue of Leo’s eyes overflowed. Tears ran down her freckled cheeks. “Fuck,” she swore, very quietly. Karin didn’t think she’d ever heard her say that word before. Leo touched her cheek, and Karin had to fight not to flinch away. She had been prepared for the slurs, the screaming, but this was something different. Leo touched her reverently, like Karin was worthy of being handled with care."

Re: PS: Thank you! I think I'll have a lot of fun, even though I fear that it's going to be bitterly cold. ❄️☃️

[davidleejones]

Book Excerpt/Chapter Twelve/Zombie Walk

            July 23rd, 2021: Eight years after retirement from police work –

            Just before midnight, I was screaming to work on my CBR650F sportbike, rocketing north on I-75 toward Lexington, Kentucky at positively insane speeds, deep into triple digits, jinking in and out of traffic like a fighter pilot dodging chaff down MIG Alley, blurring past normies, my engine a shrieking apocalypse between my knees, buzzing furiously against my belly, balls and bones. Knees and elbows wrapped snugly against the metal and plastic of my beautiful machine as hurricane-force winds howled over my silver-helmeted head.

            My GoPro Hero cameras captured the ride.

            130 mph … 135 mph … 140 mph … ever climbing, smoothly downshifting to build up even more RPMs; 145mph … 147 mph …

            My armor was, and is, black and silver – a leather jacket incorporating plate and woven titanium over D3O armor panels designed to put the force of an inopportune impact to work by causing the molecules to stiffen, knitted together within a leather carrier: Isle of Man Tourist Trophy - grade racing gear.

            … 150 mph … 152 mph …

            Underneath my Icon TiMax ® jacket, I wore an Icon Striker Vest ® of CE and additional D3O armor, the back and chest like Roman lorica segmentata, thick panels protecting my spine, ribs, and sternum.

            … 155 mph … 157 mph …

            Jarred motorists on the road that night experienced me as a meteoric flash of light and a Doppler-shifted engine-shriek raging past them; a single red tail light disappearing into the distance: YYEEEEEOWWwwwww!... I saw them swerve around my elbows in my rearview mirrors, a tenth or two of a mile beyond them before their nerve synapses could even register my passing.

            [My love of speed and lack of hypocrisy was why my old police supervisors virtually had to hold me at gunpoint to write a speeding ticket – assuming that, ahem, my radar wasn’t broken again.]

            …158 mph … c'mon, babe: Honda says you'll do 161 mph … pushing it, pushing it –

            Downshifting; upshifting; delicately feathering my way along the fine edges of the engine's redline like Chuck Yeager seeking to precipitate that very first sonic boom –

            I felt aerodynamic lift across the curve of my red medic's backpack, Bernoulli's principle kicking in–

            And somewhere in the back of my mind, I recalled troublesome statistics:

            Motorcyclists are twenty-seven times more likely to have a fatal crash than automobile drivers –

            And that was during daylight hours, riding at legal speeds.

            Pfft! I somehow felt protected, invincible beyond my armor. Or maybe it was just normalcy bias: The Bad Thing would never happen to me.

            And if it did, oh well … OLAS: Our Lives Are Shit.

            From the waist down, I wore specially crafted jeans made of Kevlar and Aramid fibers – a hot, sweaty garment to clump around in but, at these extreme velocities, cool as ice as night air poured around the bike's fairings, hitting my thighs. Internal pockets within the jeans held even more panels of molecular armor.

            Beneath all that, I wore Force Field ® shorts, composed of overlapping sheets of molecular and CE armor protecting my hips, thighs and coccyx. My knees and lower legs were protected by articulated molecular and CE armor, and my ankles and feet by knee-high Icon Overlord boots that incorporated the same fabulous tech.

            It amounted to bit more than three thousand dollars of racing armor, a considerable fraction of the cost of the bike itself. All of it was designed to give riders a fighting chance in a crash at 200 mph.

            … 158 mph … 159 mph … 159 mph …

            The rev limiter was kicking in, preventing me from damaging the engine by going any faster. I cursed bitterly.

            Tucking tighter against the bike, fusing with it, the chin of my helmet pressing hard against the gas cap, a high-frequency buzz transferring to my sinuses and eyeballs now as I tightly pulled in my arms and knees to reduce the drag across my leather, titanium and red ballistic nylon –

            … 159 mph … 159 mph … 159 mph …

            Circuit breakers in, here comes throttle -

            Stick yanked back, teeth clenched: C'mon, Glamorous Glennis -

            Frustrated, I finally yelled, "Damned factory down-tuned 650cc engine!" into my chin mike adaptor, a bit of tech borrowed, appropriately enough, from the aerospace industry. I imagined exotic mods to the fuel system, the airbox, the exhaust, and the bike's onboard computer system –

            – Or maybe just a much bigger bike.

            Kinetic reality rudely intruded into my mechanical and mathematical reveries.

            Glancing back up from the instrument cluster, I counter-leaned sharply around what would be a gentle Interstate curve at reasonable velocities.

            Scant seconds ahead, two slow-moving eighteen-wheelers were running parallel to one another in the center and right lanes. The cherry on top was a hillbilly in a black Chevy Silverado running alongside those two lumbering boxes in the supposedly "fast" lane, forming a rolling 65 mph roadblock.

            Automatically I registered that the Chevy was drifting back and forth between lane dividers – a textbook symptom of drunk driving as I reverted to Cop Mode in a millisecond.

            No matter: Threat acquired, taking evasive action –

            I had no missiles onboard.

            I was the missile.

            I imagined the Chevy trucker slurringly singing along to some awful corporate country tune on Lexington's 98.1 The Bull – slo-mo, nose-yodeling about cheatin' in some Mississippi honky-tonk as he balanced a long-neck Bud Light on his lap, waving madly at the eighteen-wheelers that he hovered alongside of.

            "Hey, bruhs, Ha-ha-ha," I imagined him braying as he bobbed his bulbous head to a bovine beat. "I got me a truck too!"

            I envisioned the semi-drivers laughing at this idiot before glancing into their rearview mirrors at my blazing, fast-approaching headlight, chattering excitedly back and forth on their CB radios: "What the hell is that thing?"

            My iPhone-driven earbuds blasted harsh metal as I hurtled toward the trucks at more than twice their speed.

            "Feeling some bow shock and turbulence now," I shouted into the mic, over the wind-scream. "Looks like I got maybe three or four feet of clearance on either side if I pass on the right side of the pickup. Bonsai!"

            Erratic winds from these three blocky vehicles shivered me timbers as I closed with them in a flash.

            I wanted to screw with this drunken asshole in his shiny new, jacked-up, over-chromed Silverado that looked like an apartment building on wheels. I grinned like Death Hisself as I imagined him spilling his beer into his lap.

            Then the Silverado and the eighteen-wheelers lurched magically to either side, out of my path, giving me more like eight or ten feet of clearance at each elbow.

            Spearing down the lane divider, I slipped through, automatically downshifting, upshifting, catching a torque wheelie.

            "Hoo-yah" I hooted." 

            There had been no turbulence, only pristine air as smooth as silk … which honestly didn't seem sane or logical. The aerodynamic forces should have been violent, especially with me on just one wheel. But there was … nothing, just a glassy glide down a dreamy, windless chute.

            I was 61 years old: certainly old enough to know better. But a chorus of ancient and persistent voices in my head chanted: do you really wanna live forever?

            The next morning, I plugged my helmet, camera still attached, into the media player attached to the large-screen TV in the living room and reviewed this dire footage with my wife, Angie.

            She watched with a thousand-yard stare. I could guess her thoughts: One of these days you won't come home and I'll wake up a widow, glum Kentucky State Troopers knocking at the door: “Hello, are you Missus Jones? Well, there's been something of an accident…”

            Re-watching the trucks part as I blasted between them, I saw their parting had been far more dramatic than I'd realized.

            A moment after I burst from between these massive vehicles, Angie snapped back into the present and said, "Did you see that?"

            "See what?"

            "Hit pause," she said. "Scrub back. Just as you went between them, I think one of them took a picture of you. What if they got your license number?"

            "What?"

            "There's a blue flash. Go back, back … ok, now press play."

            There was a scintillating blue light, just for an instant, between the trucks.

            "I don't think that's a photo flash," I said, backing up again.

            I advanced frame-by-frame. My GoPro was set to record at a rate of 30 frames per second (FFS). The odd blue light lasted for exactly twenty-three frames, .76 seconds before I swept below it.

            "See," I said, "it's not a photo flash. Whatever it is, it's small – about the size of, I don't know, a football maybe? It seems positioned outside the trucks entirely."

            "You don't think one of those assholes tried shining a laser into your eyes or something?" she said, watching the hazy blue light evolving and changing shape frame-by-frame as I rewound and replayed; rewound and replayed.

            "Naw," I said. "Lasers are red or green, not blue like that. Maybe it's just static discharge like I used to see on helo rotors when I flew at night, NODs up (night optical/observation devices). When metal encounters dust at high speed, friction can generate effects like that."

            Except that static from Huey or Blackhawk rotors was only visible with NODS. Or maybe my GoPro was sensitive to such things. I studied the spooky blue light: it had a structure that conjured Rorschach blots in my mind. It was weird that I didn't remember seeing the blue light with my own eyes in realtime. Then again, at that extreme speed, operating on raw reflexes –

            "Probably just a lens flare," I finally shrugged dismissively. "Don't worry; I was moving way too fast for them to get my plate number; I mean, I was just a blur to them at that point -"

            The following night, to my eternal regret, I over-wrote this data on my GoPro with fresh footage.           

            Arriving at work the night I'd filmed the odd light, I started to remove my armor outside the one non-camera-covered storage room where I changed.

            A second-shift supervisor studied me poisonously, glaring from between a flanking set of sycophants.

            "So," he sneered, "How are things on the moon?"

            "Cold, dry, and dusty," I snapped back, peeling off layers of what could certainly pass for a space suit, except for the hachimaki headband tied around my forehead. "Just like your old lady."

            My bon mot would have provoked raucous laughter back in my Army or police days. But here, the reaction was that of a maiden aunt suddenly exposed to a porn video.

            Me? I laughed hard enough into that musty, tomb-like space to resurrect every damn mummy in Egypt. I felt half-dead myself, though, despite the exhilaration of the ride and the resulting quarts of adrenaline, cortisol, and testosterone sloshing around in my system.

            Jaysus, I just wanted to fight someone, like back in the Good Ol' Days.

[meadowlarksabove]

Another excerpt from a thing I wrote! Feat. my first language lmao

Los primeros destellos de luz cortaron por el interminable vacío de la noche, anunciando con ondas de puro azul y rosa la llegada de otro dia. Uno más tachado sobre el calendario y otro descartado en el olvido. El tiempo parece un concepto superfluo entre las ruinas de la vieja América. Una patria quebrada y putrefacta como el cuerpo expuesto de un animal ahogado. Pero sería imposible quedarse sano sin tener en cuenta las horas.

Se hace tan fácil olvidarse de uno mismo. Todo pierde el sentido por completo. “¿De qué vale si las cosas tengan sentido o no?” Gabban miraba con cierto interés el remeneo de las olas y los reflejos deslumbrantes de la mañana sobre las aguas. Tan bello como lo es absurdo, pensó sin saber el origen de sus propias palabras.

Absurdo. ¿Son las cosas absurdas? ¿Qué vale un cielo de colores infinitos y la espuma tierna de la playa cuando trocar por el mundo es una puta miseria? No queda en la tierra placer de ningún tipo, complétamente desprovista de todo mérito estético y espiritual. Se ha quedado todo en la nada. Nada por nada a su máxima potencia.  Nada, como ver el mundo por una ventana sin tocar ni saborear. 

“Quiero irme.” Se dijo sin levantarse a tomar camino. 

[wannabeauthorclive]

[Image ID: Dark blue banner of the ocean with four pirate ships saying “Over Land and Sea” with “Camp NaNo WIP Update” underneath. End ID]

I have been really bad at giving updates about how nano is going for me. I said I would do one of these every Sunday, that failed. I’m only doing this one because I finished!! I did it! I hit my goal!!

Project — Over Land and Sea

End Goal — 30,000 words

Daily Goal — 1,000 words

Total written — 30,162 words

Overall Notes — I’m absolutely loving this project and how it’s coming along! It has been difficult juggling all my characters, by it’s a struggle I am willing to do. I also made Desmond a protag (along with Black and Silver) cause I love him too much not to, and it fits the story. I was able to reach my daily goal almost every day and I’m really proud of that! Some days were definitely harder than others, but that’s ok, it’s all part of the journey. I’m changing a lot from my initial outline so I’m glad I kept it in a way that I could change it if I wanted. 

Thank you every single one of you -- I don’t think I could have made it this far without you. You’re all wonderful friends and are so so supportive and I love you! Thank you!

~~~ Four of my favorite scenes under the cut! ~~~

Desmond’s POV

He looks over at Captain Black, still a good fifty feet away, and sends her a wicked, wicked smile. For a split second, he could see the panic in her eyes before it’s gone again, wiped away and leaving the Captain Black everyone knows and either hates or loves. She shoots him a wicked grin of her own and his smile falters before returning full force. This will be fun.

He would go and greet her halfway, but alas, he must stay in-between the crew and the ship. She walks right up behind her crew and moves to stand in front of them defensibly. Her posture never sways and her face never softens as she stares at Desmond. Part of him thinks she’s staring into his soul, which is impossible. Impossible.

“We haven’t gotten the chance to properly introduce ourselves.” Desmond starts, holding out his hand. Captain Black doesn’t take it, doesn’t even glance at it. He withdraws his hand, nodding in acceptance of the refusal. “I am Desmond Ponsa.”

Captain Black’s crew’s eyes go even wider while Captain Black herself just snarls. “I know exactly who you are, Ponsa.”

Silver Sterling’s POV 

The newspaper. That’s how she found out about Black in the first place, no letters from her or Desmond, and certainly no espionage agent. Could the press be able to track pirate better than a chase could? Someone who has seen the Queen of the Seas lately would sure to report it for good money, and people pay good money for information. But if she tracked Viras’s press, she’d have to catch Captain Black before she moved on. Would Silver be fast enough?

She straightens in the tub, her relaxed posture fully gone. Maybe if she was already moving, maybe if she could find where the Captain would probably stop for supplies. It’d be a wild goose chase, trying to find a pirate. It’s a wild goose chase trying to find someone who has roots, but a pirate? It’s nearly impossible.

That’s what she loves doing, though. The impossible. Proving people were wrong to say she couldn’t do something. That’s what she has been told her whole life. “You can’t do that.” “Only men are able to do that.” “Berian women don’t do that, it doesn’t fit with society.”

And every single one of those things people told her she couldn’t do, she did. That’s one reason why she loved her sister, she didn’t even ask if she could do something or not. She just did them and by the time people could tell her she couldn’t do that, she had already gone and done it.

“The impossible is only impossible to those who are afraid.” Her sisters voice whispers in her ear. That was her motto, said before every risky thing they did. And the words solidified Silver’s idea further.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: mental health problems, serious anxiety)

“No, no, no. No.” Black repeats, her voice quavering but leaving no room for argument. Leaving the wheel, not seeing her crew, not watching for the National Guard, not commanding her ship would be sure to send her into a panic attack. If her anxiety is getting to hard for her to captain her ship properly, she shouldn’t be here at all.

But whatever happens, she’s not gonna let her anxiety and memory blackouts take control over her and dictate wether she is capable of captaining her ship. She’s gonna find a way to put an end to all of it before it gets to that point. Black won’t risk the safety of her crew but she won’t give up being captain unless she is fully incapable. And that’s not gonna be any time soon.

“Black!” Black jerks out of her stupor. “Black, god, you can’t do that.” Ironside whispers, relief and worry and scared blanketing her tone. “You’re here one moment and not the next and something has to change. We can’t be in battle and that happening.” She says forcefully.

This is why Black loves Ironside, she doesn’t step around anything. Straight to the point. Black doesn’t respond, she just keeps staring out over the sea. Waiting for the National Guard give a surprise attack on this bright and cloud-free, sunny day.

Ironside sighs. Her friend’s mind is breaking. It has been for a long while, this is the first time any of them noticed it though. She glances behind her at the faces of the crew, gathered around to see if their captain, friend, and family is alright. A spike of guilt hits her, she should have seen it. But none of them did and now, now Black is paying the price.

It’s like Black’s sanity is slipping out of her fingers like sand and it’s so hard to watch. So, so hard. But she has to, it may be the only way she can help.

Captain Black’s POV (TW: violence, death)

A quick second is all it takes for Black to notice the pistol aimed at Lakoma’s head. A quick second for Black to realize that blood is gonna be split. Not their blood, not if Black can help it. And by God, she can help it. She isn’t losing anyone today. A borderline wicked smile replaces her grin and with a flick of a wrist, two daggers are in her hands.

She sees the panic in her crew’s eyes as the entire Viras Treasury surrounds them. Too many people. They’ve never fought this many before. “Keep going!” She screams at them. She has. She’s fought this many people.

Another flick of the wrist and the dagger is flying through the air. It finds its target in the belly of  the same guard with his pistol aimed at Lakoma and another dagger is flying. Another dagger, another guard down.

Tons of weapons can be hidden among the folds of her dress and Black is ever grateful for her weapons. Two more daggers come out, two more daggers hit their mark. One in a throat, one in an eye.

Out of the corner of her eye, Braveheart is beating down one after another soldier, Lakoma is throwing daggers faster than Black can see while gun shots ring out from Tonya.

If only Captain Black had her Cutlass sword, this would all be much easier. She is unstoppable with her sword, no one can get out of her way. But alas, her sword is a size too big to fit in her dress.

A moment in her head and a guard was able to get too close. He throws his weight into his rapier to slice her — obviously not well trained, rapiers are stabbing weapons, not slashing ones — and she quickly ducks under him. With a swift kick to the balls, his rapier is now hers and she demonstrates how you really use a rapier. A stab though the gut. Or heart, but she goes at the gut. The pain lasts longer.

Taglist: @baguettethebooklover @a-completely-normal-writer @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @hysteriwah @tiredlittleoldme @the-writing-avocado @vellichor-virgo @radiomacbeth @wildwrites @crowewritesstuff @crystallized-ink​ @strangerays​ @47crayons @ladywithalamp (ask to be +/-)

[holdoncallfailed]

please explain me the horrible awful psychosexual interpersonal dynamics of blur 👉🏻👈🏻 i'm very much interested

jk jk. here is a link to my prior appropriately unhinged explainer which i think says most of what needs to be said on the subject. or you can follow any of those links there lol.

alternatively here are some excerpts from my still-unfinished essay about blur's self-titled record which touches upon some of the drama at play in a slightly more serious (if melodramatic) tone.

or you can read this post by ola and decide that even out of context these quotes are unbearable and decide to spare yourself entirely.

in any case godspeed anon and sorry to have burdened you with this knowledge!

[the-geeky-truth]

Sex Education 3x06 to 3x08 - Things are coming to an end

3x06

I can’t decide what’s better: the fact that Aimee made vulva cupcakes or the fact that nobody in the Milburn-Nyman household questioned it.

Jean making it clear that Aimee is not at fault for what happened on the bus is so damn important! I mean, of course it wasn’t Aimee’s fault and in a perfect world nobody would ever think it was, but we’re not living in that world and that’s why we need more people like Jean.

And whenever I think Mrs. Haddon is already awful enough, she outdoes herself again.

Putting signs on her students to humiliate and isolate them?! Who on earth allowed this woman to work with children/teenagers (or really any people at all) in the first place?! - Let alone put her in charge of an entire school?!

The audacity of both Otis and Isaac to hear about Elsie’s disappearance, get involved even though they have nothing helpful to contribute, and then proceed to make it about themselves.

Ohhh, Viv is gonna destroy Mrs. Haddon and I am so here for it!

I really like Anna, which once again reminds me that foster parents don’t get nearly enough credit for doing what they’re doing.

I’m glad Eric got to see the queer community in Lagos and that he feels at home there - that’s beautiful. But it’s no excuse whatsoever to cheat on Adam.

3x07

That animated sequence showing an excerpt of Lily’s story is really cool.

I love how Eric is so ready to help with the thing without knowing what the thing even is.

Aaand Mrs. Haddon outdoes herself again.

Oh, how I’ve missed Maeve and Aimee (and their fight didn’t even last that long).

Getting out through the air vent is a bit of an overused cliché, but I’ll allow it in this case.

Okay, where did Ruby come from?

No, Lily, don’t throw it all away!

“Beautiful” is a gendered word? Huh. I use it for anyone, all the time.

Lily’s definitely an artist.

Shots fired, Mr. Groff!

3x08

To think that this is Layla’s morning routine every day ...

I sort of expected that Anna would offer Maeve to stay with her, but I didn’t expect Maeve to accept, so that’s a nice surprise.

Rahim’s and Adam’s friendship is so weird.

So first Aimee told Jean about Otis and Maeve, now she told Maureen about Adam and Eric ... whose mother is she going to tell about her child’s love interest next?

And now Ola and Jakob have me crying a little.

Nooo, please don’t let the baby be Remi’s! Please, anyone’s but his!

I’m so glad Layla is binding safely now thanks to Cal.

Well, Adam has MY heart.

Yes, Ola and Lily!

Aimee is a very good second mum.

[fragmentos-de-vida]

Cosas que me hacen feliz

1. Cuando las luces parpadean si se ven desde lejos. 2. Escuchar una risa sincera. 3. Jugar fútbol bajo la lluvia. 4. El sonido de las olas al reventar contra la arena. 5. El olor de un libro nuevo. 6. El crujido que suena al pisar las hojas caídas de los árboles. 7. Ver la mirada entre dos personas enamoradas. 8. Ver los colores que crean en el cielo los relámpagos.

[crollalanzaa]

Title: The Call of the Sea Relationship: DaiSuga, (sidepairings of Keishin/Saeko and Kuroo/Bokuto) Characters: Daichi, Suga, Hinata, Ukai Keishin, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Tanaka Saeko, Kuroo, Bokuto, Konoha, Akaashi, Shirofuku (more to be added later) Rating: Teen and Up Warnings and Tags: blood mention, near death experience, fluffy and sparkly Suga A/N: Back in 2015, @aleksandra-chabros started to devise a Suga the merman au. She included some KeiSae (probably for me :D) and I said I’d like to write a story. But I got to 300 words and then it died on me. This year, I was feeling nostalgic, and Ola retweeted some of the art, so I flicked back to the fic and wrote. Ola has also had a momentous year in 2018, which I discovered a week into the rewrite, so this is a congratulations story for her. Love you lots! A/A/N: MY BOYS!  I’ve missed writing daisuga so much, after all my Fox and Shokugeki shenanigans, it’s good to be home. 

Summary:  As a surfer, Sawamura Daichi had the utmost respect and love for the ocean. He knew the dangers, and knew it could one day take his life. But not now, not yet, not when responsibility in the shape of a nephew had entered his life. But alone one morning, waves forcing him onto the rocks, is there any escape from the call of the sea?

Enter Sugawara Koushi, a merman with an insatiable curiosity and in particular a fascination for the human who rides the waves.

Excerpt:

When he thought back, what he remembered was the roar in his ears, the crash and thunder of water enveloping, the crush in his lungs as he struggled not to breathe and then the pain when he was dashed against the rocks.

Regrets flashed in his mind, regrets at his stupidity for coming here alone, for taking the chance to escape so early in the morning. Because he fancied the sea was calling to him, and he wanted to tame his nemesis one more time.

For leaving such a bland note in case he woke before breakfast.

For leaving him because now he was alone.

For not saying ‘I love you’.

He would die here, taken by the sea as punishment for his arrogance, not even leaving a good looking corpse, but one that would be flung back contemptuously on shore, with a caved in skull and a splintered surfboard.

A shriek clashed into the cacophonic symphony of storm and sea.

“It’s too late!”

No … no it’s not.

“Leave him!”

“H-help … me!” But the crush in his lungs, stopped his yell and even if there was someone there, and this was not a hallucination brought about by lack of air, they would not have heard him.

Sorry, Shou-chan.

[drivingsideways]

lol, was reading an old WIP of mine and honestly, I’m like 2015 me was in an anti capitalist rage huh (2019 me is still anti capitalist but the rage has just turned into despair, yay)

Excerpt below the cut

A hurried inhalation of a plate of idli (for her) and (two) masala dosas (for him) from the A2B around the corner, and they’re-attempting to- zip through traffic.

“It’s a fucking Saturday”, she moans, as she jerks the scooter to a stop for the third time in a two-kilometer stretch. “Aren’t these IT types supposed to be sleeping in?”

“An economy runs 24 x 7” Ashish yells at her from the pillion, above the increasingly loud chorus of honks. “Money making waits for no – ah fuck Dips!-don’t do that-“ but she’s already squeezing her way between a lime green striped Ola cab and a silver sedan-also a taxi, she notes, blocking most of the road- and she’s away, “- you’re a terrible driver, the worst, it’s people like you who are responsible for the frankly appalling rates of accidents in this city-”

“The economy!” she retorts, cheerfully, her mood somewhat restored by having given those taxi drivers what they deserved. “The econo-no-no-no-meeee Ashish! It waits for no-one! Not even me! Or traffic rules! In fact, everything works better when fully deregulated! When vehicle owners are left to act in their own self-interest, traffic will automatically flow in the most efficient way! Jams will be a thing of the past! I’m just helping get it there!”

“I’m not more efficient when I’m dead!” Ashish yells back as they stop again.

“You don’t know that! You haven’t tried it yet” she points out, reasonably. In the mirror she sees him hold up a finger.  She makes a kissy face at him, and then catches the eye of some giggly kids in the auto next to them. She smiles at them, conspiratorially and then notices that the auto driver is staring at her boobs. “Oye” she says, “nanna kannugalu illi apa”. * Before he can get over the shock of being confronted, she’s zooming away, Ashish asking “What was that??” because he hasn’t managed to pick up a word of Kannada yet, despite four years in the city.

* “My eyes are up here”

[toomanysinks]

Transportation Weekly: Polestar CEO speaks, Tesla terminology, and a tribute

Welcome back to Transportation Weekly; I’m your host Kirsten Korosec, senior transportation reporter at TechCrunch . This is the fourth edition of our newsletter, a weekly jaunt into the wonderful world of transportation and how we (and our packages) move.

This week we chat with Polestar CEO Thomas Ingenlath, dig into Lyft’s S-1, take note of an emerging trend in AV development, and check out an experiment with paving. Oh, and how could we forget Tesla.

Never heard of TechCrunch’s Transportation Weekly? Catch up here, here and here. As I’ve written before, consider this a soft launch. Follow me on Twitter @kirstenkorosec to ensure you see it each week. (An email subscription is coming). 

ONM …

There are OEMs in the automotive world. And here, (wait for it) there are ONMs — original news manufacturers. (Cymbal clash!) This is where investigative reporting, enterprise pieces and analysis on transportation lives.

This week, we’re featuring excerpts taken from a one-on-one interview with Polestar CEO Thomas Ingenlath.

On February 27, Volvo’s standalone electric performance brand Polestar introduced its first all-electric vehicle, a five-door fastback called the Polestar 2. The EV, which has a 78 kWh battery pack and can travel 275 miles (estimated EPA guidance) on a single charge, will be manufactured at a new factory in Chengdu, China. Other notable specs: The infotainment system will be powered by Android OS, Polestar is offering subscriptions to the vehicle, and production starts in 2020.

Here is what Ingenlath had to say to me about …

EV charging infrastructure

To be very unpolitical, I think it would be totally stupid if we were to aim to develop electric charging infrastructure on our own or for our brand specifically. If you join the electric market today, of course, you would see partnerships; that’s sensible thing to do. Car companies together are making a big effort in getting out a network of necessary charging stations along the highway. 

That’s what we’re doing; we’re teaming up and have the contracts being designed and soon signed.

On the company’s approach to automation 

The terminology is important for us. We very clearly put that into a different picture, we’re not talking about, and we clearly do not ever want to label it, an “autopilot.” The focus of this system is a very safe distance control, which brakes for you and accelerates for you, and of course, the lane keeping. This is not about developing an autopilot system, it is about giving your safety. And that’s where we don’t want to provoke people thinking that they have full rollout autopilot system there. But it is a system that helps you being safe and protected on the road.

I also reached out to Transportation Weekly readers and asked what they wanted to know and then sent some of those questions to Ingenlath.

TW Reader: How did it feel taking one of your personal styling elements – the C shaped rear lamps – from your previous brand over to Polestar?

Ingenlath: It’s an evolutionary process. Polestar naturally builds on its “mothers” DNA and as a new branch develops its own personality. Thor’s hammer, the rear light signature -—with each new model launch (Volvo and Polestar) those elements diverge into a brand specific species.

TW Reader: How much do you still get to do what you love, which is design?

Ingenlath: Being creative is still my main job, now applied on a broader scope — trying to lead a company with a creative and  brand building mindset. Still, I love the Fridays when I meet up with Robin and Max to review the models, sketches and new data. We really enjoy driving the design of both brands to new adventures.

Dig In

Tesla is finally going to offer customers a $35,000 Model 3. How the automaker is able to sell this electric vehicle at the long-awaited $35,000 price point is a big piece of that story — and one that some overlooked. In short, the company is blowing up its sales model and moving to an online only strategy. Tesla stores will close or be converted to “information centers” and retail employees will be laid off.

But this is not what we’re going to talk about today. Tesla has also brought back its so-called “full self-driving” feature, which was removed as an option on its website last year. Now it’s back. Owners can opt for Autopilot, which has automatic steering on highways and traffic-aware cruise control, or FSD.

FSD capability includes several features such as Navigate on Autopilot that is supposed to guide a car from a highway on-ramp to off-ramp, including navigating interchanges and making lane changes. FSD also includes Advanced Summon, Auto Lane Change, and Autopark. Later this year, the system will recognize and respond to traffic lights in more complex urban environments, Tesla says.

All of these features require the driver to be engaged (or ready to take over), yet it’s called “full self-driving.” Now Tesla has two controversially named automation features. (The other is Autopilot). As Andrew Hawkins at The Verge noted in his coverage, “experts are beginning to realize that the way we discuss, and how companies market, autonomy is significant.”

Which begs the obvious question, and one that I asked Musk during a conference call on Thursday. “Isn’t it a problem that you’re calling this full self-driving capability when you’re still going to require the driver to take control or be paying attention?” (I also wanted to ask a followup on his response, but the moderator moved onto the next reporter).

His response:

“We are very clear when you buy the car what is meant by full self driving. It means it’s feature complete, but feature complete requiring supervision.

As we get more — we really need billions of miles, if not maybe 10 billion sort of miles or kilometers on that order collectively from the fleet — then in our opinion probably at that point supervision is not required, but that will still be up to regulators to agree.

So we’re just very clear.  There’s really three steps: there’s being feature complete of full self driving that requires supervision, feature complete but not requiring supervision, and feature complete not requiring supervision and regulators agree.

In other Tesla news, the National Transportation Safety Board is investigating a crash, that at first glance seems to be similar to the fatal crash that killed Tesla owner Joshua Brown.

In cooperation with the Palm Beach sheriff’s office, the NTSB is sending a team of three to conduct a safety investigation of the commercial motor vehicle and Tesla crash in Delray Beach, FL.

— NTSB_Newsroom (@NTSB_Newsroom) March 2, 2019

A little bird …

We hear a lot. But we’re not selfish. Let’s share.

It’s no secret that Pittsburgh is one of the hubs of autonomous vehicle development in the world. But what’s not so widely known — except for a group of government and company insiders — is that Mayor William Peduto is on the verge of issuing an executive order that will give more visibility into testing there. 

The city’s department of mobility and infrastructure is the central coordinator of this new executive order that aims to help guide testing and policy development there. The department is going to develop guidelines for AV testing, we’re told. And it appears that information on testing will be released to the public at least once a year.

Got a tip or overheard something in the world of transportation? Email me or send a direct message to @kirstenkorosec.

Deal of the week

Daimler and BMW are supposed to be competitors. And they are, except with mapping (both part of the HERE consortium), mobility services (car sharing, ride-sharing), and now the development of highly automated driving systems. The deal is notable because it illustrates a larger trend that has emerged as the AV industry hunkers down into the “trough of disillusionment.” And that’s consolidation. If 2016, was the year of splashy acquisitions, then 2019 is shaping up to be chockfull of alliances and failures (of some startups).

Also interesting to note, and one that will make some AV safety experts cringe, both companies are working on Level 3 driving automation, a designation by the SAE that means conditional driving automation in which multiple high levels of automation are available in certain conditions, but a human driver must be ready to take over. This level of automation is the most controversial because of the so-called “hand off” problem in which a human driver is expected to take control of the wheel in time.

Speaking of partnerships, another deal that got our attention this week involved New York-based mapping and data analytics startup Carmera and Toyota Research Institute-Advanced Development. TRI-AD is an autonomous drive unit started by Toyota with Denso and Aisin. TRI-AD’s mission is to take the research being done over at the Toyota Research Institute and turn its into a product.

The two companies are going to test a concept that will use cameras in Toyota test vehicles to collect data from downtown Tokyo and use it to create high definition maps for urban and surface roads.

TRI-AD considers this the first step towards its open software platform concept known as Automated Mapping Platform that will be used to support the scalability of highly automated driving, by combining data gathered from vehicles of participating companies to generate HD maps. AMP is new and has possible widespread implications at Toyota. And TRI-AD is full of A-listers, including CEO James Kuffner, who came from the Google self-driving project and Nikos Michalakis, who built Netflix’s cloud platform, and Mandali Khalesi, who was at HERE.

Read more on Khalesi and the Toyota’s open source ambitions here.

Other deals:

India’s Ola spins out a dedicated EV business — and raised $56M

Volvo Cars has acquired a stake in Zūm, an on-demand ride sharing service for children

Snapshot

Snapshot this week is a bit untraditional. It’s literally a snapshot of myself and my grandmother, months before her 100th birthday. Her memorial service was held Saturday. She died at 101. She loved cars and fast ones, but not so much driving them. And every time I got a new press car, we’d hit the road and she’d encourage me to take the turns a bit faster.

She also loved road trips and in the 1920s, her father would drive the family on the mostly dirt roads from New Jersey to Vermont and even Canada. In her teens, she loved riding in the rumble seat, a feature found in a few vehicles at the time including the Ford Model A.

She was young at heart, until the very end. Next week, we’ll focus on the youngest drivers and one automotive startup that is targeting that demographic.

Tiny but mighty micromobility

Lyft’s S-1 lays out the risks associated with its micromobility business and its intent to continue relying on third parties to manufacture its bikes and scooters. Here’s a key nugget about adoption:

“While some major cities have widely adopted bike and scooter sharing, there can be no assurance that new markets we enter will accept, or existing markets will continue to accept, bike and scooter sharing, and even if they do, that we will be able to execute on our business strategy or that our related offerings will be successful in such markets. Even if we are able to successfully develop and implement our network of shared bikes and scooters, there may be heightened public skepticism of this nascent service offering.”

And another about seasonality:

“Our limited operating history makes it difficult for us to assess the exact nature or extent of the effects of seasonality on our network of shared bikes and scooters, however, we expect the demand for our bike and scooter rentals to decline over the winter season and increase during more temperate and dry seasons.”

Lyft, which bought bike-share company Motivate back in July, also released some data about its electric pedal-assist bikes this week, showing that the pedal assist bikes are, unsurprisingly, more popular than the traditional bikes. They also traveled longer distances and improved winter ridership numbers. Now, Lyft is gearing up to deploy 4,000 additional electric bikes to the Citi Bike system in New York City.

One more thing …

Google Maps has added a feature that lets users see Lime scooters, pedal bikes and e-bikes right from the transit tab in over 80 new cities around the world. Users can click the tab to find out if Lime vehicle is available, how long it’ll take to walk to the vehicle, an estimate of how much their ride could cost, along with total journey time and ETA.

Notable reads

If take the time to read anything this week (besides this newsletter), spend some time with Lyft’s S-1. The ride-hailing company’s prospectus mentions autonomous 109 times. In short, yeah, it’s something the company’s executives are thinking about and investing in.

Lyft says it has a two-pronged strategy to bring autonomous vehicles to market. The company encouraging developers of autonomous vehicle technology to use its open platform to get access to its network and enable their vehicles to fulfill rides on the Lyft platform. And Lyft is trying to build its own autonomous vehicle system at its confusingly named “Level 5 Engineering Center.”

The company’s primary investors are Rakuten with a 13 percent stake, GM with 7.8 percent, Fidelity with 7.7 percent, Andreessen Horowitz with 6.3 percent and Alphabet with 5.3 percent. GM and Alphabet have business units, GM Cruise and Waymo respectively, that are also developing AV technology.

Through Lyft’s partnership with AV systems developer and supplier Aptiv, people in Las Vegas have taken more than 35,000 rides in Aptiv autonomous vehicles with a safety driver since January 2018.

One of the “risks” the company lists is “a failure to detect a defect in our autonomous vehicles or our bikes or scooters”

Other quotable notables:

Check out the Pedestrian Traffic Fatalities by State report, a newly released report from Volvo Car USA and The Harris Poll called  The State of Electric Vehicles in America.

Testing and deployments

Again, deployments doesn’t always mean the latest autonomous vehicle pilot.

On Saturday, Sidewalk Labs hosted its Open Sidewalk event in Toronto. This is part of Sidewalk Toronto, a joint effort by Waterfront Toronto and Alphabet’s Sidewalk Labs to create a “mixed-use, complete community” on Toronto’s Eastern Waterfront

The idea of this event was to share ideas and prototypes for making outdoor public space the “social default year-round.” One such prototype “hexagonal paving” got our attention because of its use case for traffic control and pedestrian and bicyclist safety. (Pictured below)

These individual precast concrete slabs are movable and permeable, can light up and give off heat. The idea is that these hexagonal-shaped slabs and be used to clear snow and ice in trouble spots and light up to warn drivers and pedestrians of changes to the street use or to illuminate an area for public uses or even designate bike lanes and hazard zones. And because they’re permeable they can be used to absorb stormwater or melted snow and guide it to underground stormwater management systems.

Sidewalk Labs tell me that the pavers have “plug and play” holes, which allow things like bike racks, bollards, and sign posts to be inserted. Sidewalk Labs initially built these with wood, and the new prototype is the next iteration, featuring modules built from concrete.

On our radar

There is a lot of transportation-related activity this month.

The Geneva Motor Show: Press days are March 5 and March 6. Expect concept, prototype and production electric vehicles from Audi, Honda, Kia, Peugeot, Pininfarina, Polestar, Spanish car company Hispano Suiza, and Volkswagen.

SXSW in Austin: TechCrunch will be at SXSW this coming week. Here’s where I’ll be.

2 p.m. to 6:30 p.m. March 9 at the Empire Garage for the Smart Mobility Summit, an annual event put on by Wards Intelligence and C3 Group. The Autonocast, the podcast I co-host with Alex Roy and Ed Niedermeyer, will also be on hand.

9:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. March 12 at the JW Marriott. The Autonocast and founding general partner of Trucks VC, Reilly Brennan will hold a SXSW podcast panel on automated vehicle terminology and other stuff.

3:30 p.m over at the Hilton Austin Downtown, I’ll be moderating a panel Re-inventing the Wheel: Own, Rent, Share, Subscribe. Sherrill Kaplan with Zipcar, Amber Quist, with Silvercar and Russell Lemmer with Dealerware will join me.

TechCrunch is also hosting a SXSW party from 1 pm to 4 pm Sunday, March 10, 615 Red River St., that will feature musical guest Elderbrook. RSVP here. 

Self Racing Cars

Finally, I’ve been in contact with Joshua Schachter who puts on the annual Self Racing Car event, which will be held March 23 and March 24 at Thunderhill Raceway near Willows, California.

There is still room for participants to test or demo their autonomous vehicles, drive train innovation, simulation, software, teleoperation, and sensors. Hobbyists are welcome. Sign up to participate or drop them a line at contact@selfracingcars.com.

Thanks for reading. There might be content you like or something you hate. Feel free to reach out to me at kirsten.korosec@techcrunch.com to share those thoughts, opinions or tips. 

Nos vemos la próxima vez.

source https://techcrunch.com/2019/03/03/transportation-weekly-polestar-ceo-speaks-tesla-terminology-and-a-tribute/

[tumsozluk]

Professor Anindya Ghose is interviewed about Uber's competition with Ola in the Indian market

Professor Anindya Ghose is interviewed about Uber’s competition with Ola in the Indian market

Excerpt from Quartz — “‘If Uber does perceive a threat to market share from this new round of funding for Ola, their new CEO Dara (Khosrowshahi) will simply put in more funds in India to level the playing field,’ Anindya Ghose, director of New York University’s Center for Business Analytics, told Quartz. ‘There is no way Uber will yield additional market share to Ola in India and incur the risk…

[tom-keiserman]

2006-09-08 • A Flor de Neruda" (Neruda's Flower) On the occassion of my hundredth post on this profile, I've chosen a special shot for me. This beautifull arum-lily was a couple of meters from Pablo Neruda's and Matilde Urrutia's tomb, at Casa Museo de Isla Negra, when I had the pleasure of being there. This is the file as it came right from the memory card, there's no a single edition at all. Casa de Isla Negra -- where the visitors a given good clues and hacks of Neruda's lifestyle -- is a picturesque and sui generis place to visit, about a hundred kilometers from Santiago, Chile. _Compañeros, enterradme en Isla Negra,_ _frente al mar que conozco, a cada área rugosa de piedras_ _y de olas que mis ojos perdidos_ _no volverán a ver (...)_ _Pablo Neruda_ Excerpt from the poem "Disposiciones" -- #whatfloweristhis #floweroftheday #flowerphotography #flowerslovers #flowerlovers #flowers #flowerstagram #flowersofinstagram #flowerporn #instablooms #naturephotography #naturelovers #natureshots #nature_perfection #naturephotographer #naturebeauty #instanature #beautifulnature #beautyofnature #natureperfection #pabloneruda #casaislanegra #fundacionneruda #photographylovers #adayonephoto #Great_photoworld #yourshotphotography #natgeoyourshots #natgeotravel #missãovt (at Casa de Isla Negra) https://www.instagram.com/p/CV6J48zgRml/?utm_medium=tumblr

[xtruss]

History Not Taught is History Forgot: Columbus' Legacy of Genocide!

Columbus and the Beginning of Genocide in the "New World"

— Excerpted from the book Indians are Us (Common Courage Press, 1994) by Ward Churchill

It has been contended by those who would celebrate Columbus that accusations concerning his perpetration of genocide are distortive "revisions" of history. Whatever the process unleashed by his "discovery" of the "New World," it is said, the discoverer himself cannot be blamed. Whatever his defects and offenses, they are surpassed by the luster of his achievements; however "tragic" or "unfortunate" certain dimensions of his legacy may be, they are more than offset by the benefits even for the victims of the resulting blossoming of a "superior civilization" in the Americas. Essentially the same arguments might be advanced with regard to Adolf Hitler: Hitler caused the Volkswagen to be created, after all, and the autobahn. His leadership of Germany led to jet propulsion, significant advances in rocket telemetry, laid the foundation for genetic engineering. Why not celebrate his bona fide accomplishments on behalf of humanity rather than "dwelling" so persistently on the genocidal by-products of his policies?

To be fair, Columbus was never a head of state. Comparisons of him to Nazi SS leader Heinrich Himmler, rather than Hitler, are therefore more accurate and appropriate. It is time to delve into the substance of the defendants' assertion that Columbus and Himmler, Nazi Lebensraumpolitik (conquest of "living space" in eastern Europe) and the "settlement of the New World" bear more than casual resemblance to one another. This has nothing to do with the Columbian "discovery," not that this in itself is completely irrelevant. Columbus did not sally forth upon the Atlantic for reasons of "neutral science" or altruism. He went, as his own diaries, reports, and letters make clear, fully expecting to encounter wealth belonging to others. It was his stated purpose to seize this wealth, by whatever means necessary and available, in order to enrich both his sponsors and himself. Plainly, he pre-figured, both in design and by intent, what came next. To this extent, he not only symbolizes the process of conquest and genocide which eventually consumed the indigenous peoples of America, but bears the personal responsibility of having participated in it. Still, if this were all there was to it, the defendants would be inclined to dismiss him as a mere thug along the lines of Al Capone rather than viewing him as a counterpart to Himmler.

The 1492 "voyage of discovery" is, however, hardly all that is at issue. In 1493 Columbus returned with an invasion force of seventeen ships, appointed at his own request by the Spanish Crown to install himself as "viceroy and governor of [the Caribbean islands] and the mainland" of America, a position he held until 1500. Setting up shop on the large island he called Espa–ola (today Haiti and the Dominican Republic), he promptly instituted policies of slavery (encomiendo) and systematic extermination against the native Taino population. Columbus's programs reduced Taino numbers from as many as eight million at the outset of his regime to about three million in 1496. Perhaps 100,000 were left by the time of the governor's departure. His policies, however, remained, with the result that by 1514 the Spanish census of the island showed barely 22,000 Indians remaining alive. In 1542, only two hundred were recorded. Thereafter, they were considered extinct, as were Indians throughout the Caribbean Basin, an aggregate population which totaled more than fifteen million at the point of first contact with the Admiral of the Ocean Sea, as Columbus was known.

This, to be sure, constitutes an attrition of population in real numbers every bit as great as the toll of twelve to fifteen million about half of them Jewish most commonly attributed to Himmler's slaughter mills. Moreover, the proportion of indigenous Caribbean population destroyed by the Spanish in a single generation is, no matter how the figures are twisted, far greater than the seventy-five percent of European Jews usually said to have been exterminated by the Nazis. Worst of all, these data apply only to the Caribbean Basin; the process of genocide in the Americas was only just beginning at the point such statistics become operant, not ending, as they did upon the fall of the Third Reich. All told, it is probable that more than one hundred million native people were "eliminated" in the course of Europe's ongoing "civilization" of the Western Hemisphere.

It has long been asserted by "responsible scholars" that this decimation of American Indians which accompanied the European invasion resulted primarily from disease rather than direct killing or conscious policy. There is a certain truth to this, although starvation may have proven just as lethal in the end. It must be borne in mind when considering such facts that a considerable portion of those who perished in the Nazi death camps died, not as the victims of bullets and gas, but from starvation, as well as epidemics of typhus, dysentery, and the like. Their keepers, who could not be said to have killed these people directly, were nonetheless found to have been culpable in their deaths by way of deliberately imposing the conditions which led to the proliferation of starvation and disease among them. Certainly, the same can be said of Columbus's regime, under which the original residents were, as a first order of business, permanently dispossessed of their abundant cultivated fields while being converted into chattel, ultimately to be worked to death for the wealth and "glory" of Spain.

Nor should more direct means of extermination be relegated to incidental status. As the matter is put by Kirkpatrick Sale in his recent book, Conquest of Paradise,

The tribute system, instituted by the Governor sometime in 1495, was a simple and brutal way of fulfilling the Spanish lust for gold while acknowledging the Spanish distaste for labor. Every Taino over the age of fourteen had to supply the rulers with a hawk's bell of gold every three months (or in gold-deficient areas, twenty-five pounds of spun cotton); those who did were given a token to wear around their necks as proof that they had made their payment; those who did not were, as [Columbus's brother, Fernando] says discreetly "punished"-by having their hands cut off, as [the priest, BartolomŽ de] las Casas says less discreetly, and left to bleed to death.

It is entirely likely that upwards of 10,000 Indians were killed in this fashion alone, on Espa–ola alone, as a matter of policy, during Columbus's tenure as governor. Las Casas' Brev’sima relaci—n, among other contemporaneous sources, is also replete with accounts of Spanish colonists (hidalgos) hanging Tainos en masse, roasting them on spits or burning them at the stake (often a dozen or more at a time), hacking their children into pieces to be used as dog feed and so forth, all of it to instill in the natives a "proper attitude of respect" toward their Spanish "superiors."

[The Spaniards] made bets as to who would slit a man in two, or cut off his head at one blow; or they opened up his bowels. They tore the babes from their mother's breast by their feet and dashed their heads against the rocks...They spitted the bodies of other babes, together with their mothers and all who were before them, on their swords.

No SS trooper could be expected to comport himself with a more unrelenting viciousness. And there is more. All of this was coupled to wholesale and persistent massacres:

A Spaniard...suddenly drew his sword. Then the whole hundred drew theirs and began to rip open the bellies, to cut and kill [a group of Tainos assembled for this purpose] men, women, children and old folk, all of whom were seated, off guard and frightened...And within two credos, not a man of them there remains alive. The Spaniards enter the large house nearby, for this was happening at its door, and in the same way, with cuts and stabs, began to kill as many as were found there, so that a stream of blood was running, as if a great number of cows had perished.

Elsewhere, las Casas went on to recount how in this time, the greatest outrages and slaughterings of people were perpetrated, whole villages being depopulated...The Indians saw that without any offense on their part they were despoiled of their kingdoms, their lands and liberties and of their lives, their wives, and homes. As they saw themselves each day perishing by the cruel and inhuman treatment of the Spaniards, crushed to earth by the horses, cut in pieces by swords, eaten and torn by dogs, many buried alive and suffering all kinds of exquisite tortures... [many surrendered to their fate, while the survivors] fled to the mountains [to starve].

Such descriptions correspond almost perfectly to those of systematic Nazi atrocities in the western USSR offered by William Shirer in Chapter 27 of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich. But, unlike the Nazi extermination campaigns of World War II the Columbian butchery on Espa–ola continued until there were no Tainos left to butcher.

Evolution of the Columbian Legacy

Nor was this by any means the end of it. The genocidal model for conquest and colonization established by Columbus was to a large extent replicated by others such as Cortez (in Mexico) a Pizarro (in Peru) during the following half-century. During the same period, expeditions such as those of Ponce de Leon in 1513, Coronado in 1540, and de Soto during the same year were launched with an eye towards effecting the same pattern on the North American continent proper. In the latter sphere the Spanish example was followed and in certain ways intensified by the British, beginning at Roanoake in 1607 and Plymouth in 1620. Overall the process of English colonization along the Atlantic Coast was marked by a series of massacres of native people as relentless and devastating as any perpetrated by the Spaniards. One of the best known illustrations drawn from among hundreds was the slaughter of some 800 Pequots at present-day Mystic, Connecticut, on the night of May 26, 1637.

During the latter portion of the seventeenth century, and throughout most of the eighteenth, Great Britain battled France for colonial primacy in North America. The resulting sequence of four "French and Indian Wars" greatly accelerated the liquidation of indigenous people as far west as the Ohio River Valley. During the last of these, concluded in 1763 history's first documentable case of biological warfare occurred against Pontiac's Algonkian Confederacy, a powerful military alliance aligned with the French.

Sir Jeffrey Amherst, commander-in-chief of the British forces...wrote in a postscript of a letter to Bouquet [a subordinate] that smallpox be sent among the disaffected tribes. Bouquet replied, also in a postscript, "I will try to [contaminate] them...with some blankets that may fall into their hands, and take care not to get the disease myself."...To Bouquet's postscript Amherst replied, "You will do well to [infect] the Indians by means of blankets as well as to try every other method that can serve to extirpate this execrable race." On June 24, Captain Ecuyer, of the Royal Americans, noted in his journal: "...we gave them two blankets and a handkerchief out of the smallpox hospital. I hope it will have the desired effect."

It did. Over the next few months, the disease spread likewildfire among the Mingo, Delaware, Shawnee, and other Ohio River nations, killing perhaps 100,000 people. The example of Amherst's action does much to dispel the myth that the post contact attrition of Indian people through disease; introduced by Europeans was necessarily unintentional and unavoidable. There are a number earlier instances in which native people felt disease, had been deliberately inculcated among them. For example, the so-called "King Philip's War" of 1675-76 was fought largely because the Wampanoag and Narragansett nations believed English traders had consciously contaminated certain of their villages with smallpox. Such tactics were also continued by the United States after the American Revolution. At Fort Clark on the upper Missouri River, for instance, the U.S. Army distributed smallpox-laden blankets as gifts among the Mandan. The blankets had been gathered from a military infirmary in St. Louis where troops infected with the disease were quarantined. Although the medical practice of the day required the precise opposite procedure, army doctors ordered the Mandans to disperse once they exhibited symptoms of infection. The result was a pandemic among the Plains Indian nations who claimed at least 125,000 lives, and may have reached a toll several times that number.

Contemporaneously with the events at Fort Clark, the U.S. was also engaged in a policy of wholesale "removal" of indigenous nations east of the Mississippi River, "clearing" the land of its native population so that it might be "settled" by "racially superior" Anglo-Saxon "pioneers." This resulted in a series of extended forced marches some more than a thousand miles in length in which entire peoples were walked at bayonet-point to locations west of the Mississippi. Rations and medical attention were poor, shelter at times all but nonexistent. Attrition among the victims was correspondingly high. As many as fifty-five percent of all Cherokees, for example, are known to have died during or as an immediate result of that people's "Trail of Tears." The Creeks and Seminoles also lost about half their existing populations as a direct consequence of being "removed." It was the example of nineteenth-century U.S. Indian Removal policy upon which Adolf Hitler relied for a practical model when articulating and implementing his Lebensraumpolitik during the 1930s and '40s.

By the 1850s, U.S. policymakers had adopted a popular philosophy called "Manifest Destiny" by which they imagined themselves enjoying a divinely ordained right to possess all native property, including everything west of the Mississippi. This was coupled to what has been termed a "rhetoric of extermination" by which governmental and corporate leaders sought to shape public sentiment to embrace the eradication of American Indians. The professed goal of this physical reduction of "inferior" indigenous populations was to open up land for "superior" Euro-American "pioneers."One outcome of this dual articulation was a series of general massacres perpetrated by the United States military.

A bare sampling of some of the worst must include the 1854 massacre of perhaps 150 Lakotas at Blue River (Nebraska), the 1863 Bear River (Idaho) Massacre of some 500 Western Shoshones, the 1864 Sand Creek (Colorado) Massacre of as many as 250 Cheyennes and Arapahoes, the 1868 massacre of another 300 Cheyennes at the Washita River (Oklahoma), the 1875 massacre of about 75 Cheyennes along the Sappa Creek (Kansas), the 1878 massacre of still another 100 Cheyennes at Camp Robinson (Nebraska), and the 1890 massacre of more than 300 Lakotas at Wounded Knee (South Dakota).

Related phenomena included the army's internment of the bulk of all Navajos for four years (1864-68) under abysmal conditions at the Bosque Redondo, during which upwards of a third of the population of this nation is known to have perished of starvation and disease. Even worse in some ways was the unleashing of Euro-American civilians to kill Indians at whim, and sometimes for profit. In Texas, for example, an official bounty on native scalps any native scalps was maintained until well into the 1870s. The result was that the indigenous population of this state, once the densest in all of North America, had been reduced to near zero by 1880. As it has been put elsewhere, "The facts of history are plain: Most Texas Indians were exterminated or brought to the brink of oblivion by [civilians] who often had no more regard for the life of an Indian than they had for that of a dog, sometimes less." Similarly, in California, "the enormous decrease [in indigenous population] from about a quarter-million [in 1800] to less than 20,000 is due chiefly to the cruelties and wholesale massacres perpetrated by miners and early settlers."

Much of the killing in California and southern Oregon Territory resulted, directly and indirectly, from the discovery of gold in 1849and the subsequent influx of miners and settlers. Newspaper accounts document the atrocities, as do oral histories of the California Indians today. It was not uncommon for small groups or villages to be attacked by immigrants...and virtually wiped out overnight.

All told, the North American Indian population within the area of the forty-eight contiguous states of the United States, an aggregate group which had probably numbered in excess of twelve million in the year 1500, was reduced by official estimates to barely more than 237,000 four centuries later. This vast genocide historically paralleled in its magnitude and degree only by that which occurred in the Caribbean Basin is the most sustained on record. Corresponding almost perfectly with this upper-ninetieth-percentile erosion of indigenous population by 1900 was the expropriation of about 97.5 percent of native land by 1920. The situation in Canada was/is entirely comparable. Plainly, the Nazi-esque dynamics set in motion by Columbus in 1492 continued, and were not ultimately consummated until the present century.

The Columbian Legacy in the United States

While it is arguable that the worst of the genocidal programs directed against Native North America had ended by the twentieth century, it seems undeniable that several continue into the present. One obvious illustration is the massive compulsory transfer of American Indian children from their families, communities, and societies to Euro-American families and institutions, a policy which is quite blatant in its disregard for Article l(e) of the 1948 Convention. Effected through such mechanisms as the U.S. Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA) boarding school system, and a pervasive policy of placing Indian children for adoption (including "blind" adoption) with non-Indians, such circumstances have been visited upon more than three-quarters of indigenous youth in some generations after 1900. The stated goal of such policies has been to bring about the "assimilation" of native people into the value orientations and belief system of their conquerors. Rephrased, the objective has been to bring about the disappearance of indigenous societies as such, a patent violation of the terms, provisions, and intent of the Genocide Convention (Article I(c)).

An even clearer example is a program of involuntary sterilization of American Indian women by the BIA's Indian Health Service (IHS) during the 1970s. The federal government announced that the program had been terminated, and acknowledged having performed several thousand such sterilizations. Independent researchers have concluded that as many as forty-two percent of all native women of childbearing age in the United States had been sterilized by that point. That the program represents a rather stark¾and very recent¾violation of Article I(d) of the 1948 Convention seems beyond all reasonable doubt.

More broadly, implications of genocide are quite apparent in the federal government's self-assigned exercise of "plenary power" and concomitant "trust" prerogatives over the residual Indian land base pursuant to the Lonewolf v. Hitchcock case (187 U.S. 553(1903)). This has worked, with rather predictable results, to systematically deny native people the benefit of their remaining material assets. At present, the approximately 1.6 million Indians recognized by the government as residing within the U.S., when divided into the fifty-million-odd acres nominally reserved for their use and occupancy, remain the continent's largest landholders on a per capita basis. Moreover, the reservation lands have proven to be extraordinarily resource rich, holding an estimated two-thirds of all U.S. "domestic" uranium reserves, about a quarter of the readily accessible low-sulfur coal, as much as a fifth of the oil and natural gas, as well as substantial deposits of copper, iron, gold, and zeolites. By any rational definition, the U.S. Indian population should thus be one of the wealthiest if not the richest population sectors in North America.

Instead, by the federal government's own statistics, they comprise far and away the poorest. As of 1980, American Indians experienced, by a decided margin, the lowest annual and lifetime incomes on a per capita basis of any ethnic or racial group on the continent. Correlated to this are all the standard indices of extreme poverty: the highest rates of infant mortality, death by exposure and malnutrition, incidence of tuberculosis and other plague disease. Indians experience the highest level of unemployment, year after year, and the lowest level of educational attainment. The overall quality of life is so dismal that alcoholism and other forms of substance abuse are endemic; the rate of teen suicide is also several times that of the nation as a whole. The average life expectancy of a reservation-based Native American male is less than 45 years; that of a reservation-based female less than three years longer.

It's not that reservation resources are not being exploited, or profits accrued. To the contrary, virtually all uranium mining and milling occurred on or immediately adjacent to reservation land during the life of the Atomic Energy Commission's ore-buying program, 1952-81. The largest remaining enclave of traditional Indians in North America is currently undergoing forced relocation in order that coal may be mined on the Navajo Reservation. Alaska native peoples are being converted into landless "village corporations" in order that the oil under their territories can be tapped; and so on. Rather, the BIA has utilized its plenary and trust capacities to negotiate contracts with major mining corporations "in behalf of" its "Indian wards" which pay pennies on the dollar of the conventional mineral royalty rates. Further, the BIA has typically exempted such corporations from an obligation to reclaim whatever reservation lands have been mined, or even to perform basic environmental cleanup of nuclear and other forms of waste. One outcome has been that the National Institute for Science has recommended that the two locales within the U.S. most heavily populated by native people¾the Four Corners Region and the Black Hills Region¾be designated as "National Sacrifice Areas." Indians have responded that this would mean their being converted into "national sacrifice peoples"

Even such seemingly innocuous federal policies as those concerning Indian identification criteria carry with them an evident genocidal potential. In clinging insistently to a variation of a eugenics formulation dubbed "blood-quantum" ushered in by the 1887 General Allotment Act, while implementing such policies as the Federal Indian Relocation Program (1956-1982), the government has set the stage for a "statistical extermination" of the indigenous population within its borders. As the noted western historian, Patricia Nelson Limerick, has observed: "Set the blood-quantum at one-quarter, hold to it as a rigid definition of Indians, let intermarriage proceed...and eventually Indians will be defined out of existence. When that happens, the federal government will finally be freed from its persistent 'Indian problem'." Ultimately, there is precious little difference, other than matters of style, between this and what was once called the "Final Solution of the Jewish Problem."

— The above article is an excerpt of a legal brief from Ward Churchill's book Indians Are Us? Culture and Genocide in Native North America (Common Courage Press, 1994). The defendants in the brief are leaders of the American Indian Movement, who were charged for stopping a Columbus Day celebratory parade near the Colorado State Capitol Building in Denver, Colorado on October 12, 1991.

[wannabeauthorclive]

[Image ID: Dark blue banner of the ocean with four pirate ships saying “Over Land and Sea” with “Camp NaNo WIP Update” underneath. End ID]

I’m I allowed to do one of these? I know it’s only day 2 of nano, but I really want to do one. So here I am.

Project — Over Land and Sea

End Goal — 30,000 words

Daily Goal — 1,000 words

Total written — 3,879 words

After today, I will do one of these weekly and not daily. I think that would be overwhelming for the all of us if I did one daily. Unless y’all want me to do one a day, cause I totally will! But for now, every Sunday!

~~~

Day 1

Words: 2,271

Notes: For not being able to write the past week and a half, I was really glad that I had a good first day of writing! I really wasn’t expecting that so it was a nice surprise! I also got to start on chapter 1 with Silver Sterling and Ira and I love writing them! 

Excerpt:

“Ahh, yes, and as I’ve said before, we could get quite a few pieces of gold if we turned ourselves over.” It was a grand adventure that the two of them went on to become fugitives of the biggest kingdom in Algotos. A grand one indeed.

“And as I’ve said before, what’s a few pieces of gold when we have millions? I don’t know why you’re complaining. Haven’t I kept you content here in Pelek?” Silver questions lightheartedly.

“Of course, my love, but a few more dangerous adventures here and there have never hurt anyone.” Ira rebuts, her eyes shinning in humor.

“I don’t think you know the meaning of danger if you believe that it’s never hurt anyone. We’ve been on more dangerous adventures than I have fingers and toes.” Silver laughs.

“We’ve been on more dangerous adventures than you have gold,” Ira places a kiss on Silver’s forehead. “I’m just saying that a few more… would be quite an adventure.”

Day 2

Words: 1,064

Notes: Today wasn’t as good of a writing day, but I still hit my daily goal so it was good! Captain black is such a different character than the sophisticated Silver Sterling so it was a big jump to go from someone always posed to a pirate. But I loved the jump anyway!

Excerpt:

She heads leaves the stern and crosses the main deck to find Tonya. On her way, she passes Braveheart where — she checks their wrist, no bracelet — he is keeping all the ropes in place. “Aye, Captain! Where you off to? Forester is manning ship.” He calls, pulling another rope and opening the sail so they can gain more speed from the light wind. Black doesn’t worry that Forester is at the wheel, just as long someone is, all is well.

“I’m looking for Tonya!” Everyone on the ship talks loud, there’s a lot of noise on sea, with lots of enthusiasm. “You know where I can find her?” Braveheart just smiles, points up, and continues working. Black looks to where he pointed, and sure enough, Tonya is up on the spar doing a handstand.

Seeing Black waving from the main deck, Tonya does a backflip and lands on a lower part of the mast and continues to work her way down. Black is always in awe when she sees Tonya up there, flipping and balancing. She could never do that, and it impresses her every time.

“You called?” Tonya asks as she hits deck.

Black grins, “I don’t remember calling.”

“Well hurry with what you have to say, the sun’s out and the wind is low.” She points skyward, “I should be up there.”

I know I’m only just starting my first draft of this novel but I am loving it! All my characters are amazing and yes, I am straying a bit from my outline, but all is well and I like it better this way!

Taglist: @baguettethebooklover @a-completely-normal-girl @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @hysteriwah @tiredlittleoldme @the-writing-avocado @vellichor-virgo @radiomacbeth @wildwrites @crowewritesstuff @crystallized-ink​ @strangerays​ @47crayons @ladywithalamp (ask to be +/-)

[g3cawbg66]

*[AUDIOBOOK] Revolution: Book 3 in the Anarchy series

kas otsite seda raamatut?  Factfulness: Ten Reasons We're Wrong About the World ? and Why Things Are Better Than You Think By Hans Rosling

 Book Excerpt :

Factfulness:The stress-reducing habit of only carrying opinions for which you have strong supporting facts. When asked simple questions about global trends - why the world's population is increasing; how many young women go to school; how many of us live in poverty - we systematically get the answers wrong. So wrong that a chimpanzee choosing answers at random will consistently outguess journalists, Nobel laureates, and investment bankers.In Factfulness, Professor of International Health and a man who can make data sing, Hans Rosling, together with his two long-time collaborators Anna and Ola, offers a radical new explanation of why this happens, and reveals the ten instincts that distort our perspective. It turns out that the world, for all its imperfections, is in a much better state than we might think. But when we worry about everything all the time instead of embracing a worldview based on facts, we can lose our ability to focus on the things that threaten us most. Inspiring

 >>> START READING NOW

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