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garblegox · 3 years ago

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• Humpty Dumpty Elegy 6 | five books on 🎩INFLUENCE🗝 •

who does Malchrome Gladwell work for?

I have a boring life goal: Become a stone mason.

My far-fetched fantasy goal is to join a gang of psychic criminals in New Orleans. A chiseler either way, I guess.

What? Magical scofflaws, tip-toeing through cobblestone creeks of beerpiss? I seen it with my own eyes!

If you've been to Jackson Square on a busy day, you've seen them. By the paintings on the fence, across the park from the silver guy pop-locking around a hat, Jackson Square Allstars playing somewhere within earshot. Doreen Ketchens, a block upriver with a licorice stick. They're the people at the tables, with the umbrellas, between the benches.

They don't look like a gang of any sort. They range widely, in terms of hosts and décor. Hosts vary from homeless looking, to Dr. John, to kindergarten teachers with glittery scarfs. Tables can be either wagoned-in backyard furniture with sturdy parasols, or a couple of milk crates with a beach towel thrown overtop. Décor is just an eye-spy cluster of magic knickknacks; pebbles, bones, geodes, pentacles, lacquered lockboxes, candles, feathers etc.

My brother and I were sitting under the sign in front of Pere Antoine alley, watching them grift. When suddenly, a tall slim man, with shark eyes, in a bespoke burgundy pinstripe suit, came out of the alley behind us, with two plainer looking men. The three closed in on a table that had been left unattended for only a couple seconds.

The psychics recognized Skinny, and exchanged knowing looks. Nobody looked threatened, but they knew he had a grave intentions. The three walked up to the table, gathered the four corners of the table cloth, bindled it all up, and walked away in front of at least a hundred people.

The psychic returned to her empty table, furious but unsurprised. Her neighbors just ghosted her. She didn't waste time pondering the fix, she started shouting over the horizon at everyone in the square. She wasn't just shouting for Skinny's sake, she was aiming at the anonymous eyes and ears that worked for him in the square. Screaming about the betrayal, cowardice, and evil among the tables.

"WELL, MERRY CHRISTMAS MOTHERFUCKERS! I GOT A STORAGE CONTAINER FULLA THAT SHIT ANYWAY!" She retched out, as she stormed down the alley behind us, sobbing.

Once she was out of sight, a new psychic came from the corner of Chartres and St Anne. He redecorated the table in minutes, sat down, and opened for business. The customers and neighbors didn't blink. It seemed the only people in the square to notice anything were my brother and I.

We learned in one quick instant that these people have a boss, this territory is protected, and that woman wasn't just being robbed, she was being fired. We felt the magnitude of a shadowy network around us. A psychic union.

It captured my imagination, and I've wanted inside this network for years now. But if I wanna be an underground Derren Brown, and not have my business bindled by a burgundy burglar, I better be binging beneficial books.

Humpty Dumpty shouldn't be too much of a punching bag this time. These are just tools, there's little to moralize about. Only my usual frustration, that he believes he's too autistic to grasp anything in these books. But we'll pick that apart as we go along.

Here are five outstanding books on influence. Whether you wanna be a psychic, or psychic-proof; On Skinny's good side, or Skinny himself; or whether you wanna just be friendly and earnest without being a stupid mark. These are some essentials.

• #1 Influence by Robert Cialdini •

Props to my brother for finding this one. He won friends and influenced all the way to a fancy job, as a slave, on top of a mountain, making omelets for rich helicopter-snowboarders.

He quickly started to sense the ways his workplace had employed influence traps, or straight up coercion to get backbreaking work out of people. So he looked for a book on the topic, and jumped straight into this baby right here.

He was able to break down, step by step, all the tricks used to punk and exploit him. His fancy job was a set of golden shackles. So he timed his plane ticket to come when his bosses needed him most, then that morning just casually climbed into an uber with his luggage, smiled and waved goodbye from a distance, to his coworkers on their way into work, and let them wrap their heads around the fact that he 86'd that bitch on their busiest day. They called, he ignored them, and rejoiced all the way home.

Now, my brother is a former school bully, and a real con artist. As kids, his favorite thing to do was lie to me to get me to perform whatever terrible idea he imagined. But eventually my lie-spotting skills caught up, and he had to start training on others. Since then I just watch him fuck with people now, highly amused.

Point is, even experienced con artists can be influenced into pitfalls. Influence techniques exploit automatic biological functions in our head. Functions that otherwise play extremely helpful roles, and make our life 100x more efficient. This book is similar to You Are Not So Smart in that it emphasizes the usefulness of things that also trip us up every day.

Cialdini writes from the point of view of a former all-day sucker. His goal is to free the reader from that automaticity. Certain stimuli can trigger us, like hitting play on a cassette tape. "Click, whirr" as he puts it. The key is to hear the clicks, and chose for yourself whether you let things whirr.

He also highlights many schemes in the world designed to exploit our whirrs. Most commonly, they're designed to get you to buy things. This pandemic, for example, has just been a food fight of people flinging influence techniques back and forth at one another, for a myriad of reasons. This was a tad mind-blowing to reread, after almost two years of this lockdown quagmire.

Humpty, as a recluse, is really only exposed to the influence of salespeople. Jesus fucking murphy have salespeople ever run a train on that egg. He thinks because he's not a hypebeast, that somehow means he's not a brainless consumer. Like all his escapism and dopamine fetishes are a reflection of refined taste, and none are a form of mental enslavement.

Keep in mind, I'm all for playtime. But remember, Humpty complains about how constantly bored and disappointed he is by the games and toys he buys. He considers every day wasted, on repetitive trash. Then describes in absolute terms how he must buy more. I lost track of how many remastered/rereleased games he was so excited to buy, only to get upset that it's basically the exact same game he owned already, just with negligibly better graphics. He's the stupidest fuck on the whole everywhere.

The info definitely can be used either way, offensively or defensively. But nothing about it is unfair or shady. No more than the average salesperson. Everyone has their own grasp of concepts like: reciprocity, social proof, authority, scarcity, etc. But for most people it's just an intuitive grasp. Which makes them vulnerable to people who have studied it deliberately.

Of course, Dump thinks he's off the hook, here. He says there's no way to sharpen his social skills. But like I discussed in my entry on The Science Of Evil, Humpty is just a systematizer, as opposed to an empathizer. Empathizers learn intuitively, face-to-face with peers. Whereas systematizers are better with an objective, structured, systematic approach, i.e. they learn from books.

• #2 The Like Switch by Jack Schafer and Marvin Karlins •

Humpty believes people are naturally biased against him. But I doubt he'd say he has it as hard as an FBI agent, trying to befriend a guilty criminal, that he's obviously hoping to throw in jail.

Honestly, I just thought FBI agents growled at you and pointed low hanging lamps in your face. I didn't know good rapport was something they had any conscious control of.

I think Humpty has been hoping his whole life that the charisma of TV, movie, and videogame characters would rub off on him. Sadly, research is starting to show that people who model their personalities based on modern popular media have the worst relationships and mental health. Most notably, people trying to learn romance from romance fiction, and action from action movies. It's disastrous, that shit is designed to be sensational and fun, not informative.

The books in this post, and much of this series, have one pesky habit, and that's how self-conscious they can make you after reading them. Which is discussed in this one. It's the "spotlight effect", where the more you know about psychology, the more self-aware you get, which can make you anxious in the moment, and awkward. You begin to worry that people are tracking your moves, and the intentions in your head, and that you'll be seen as manipulative for even knowing these techniques.

I find myself still succumbing to the spotlight effect. I wonder sometimes if I'm overusing people's names, like in hellos or goodbyes, and whether they'll recognize I'm a Dale Carnegie fan, and find that insincere or glib. But they just smile more. Some things are simply pleasant.

Nobody can read your mind, there's nothing wrong with putting forethought into your actions and other people's reactions, and at the end of the day the result of all this scheming is that people enjoy your company more. There's an aches-and-pains period in the beginning, as you put these ideas into practice, because the Dunning-Krueger effect applies as always.

The advice is similar to Atomic Habits, in that they're tiny improvements you can work into your life, that make you more pleasant in self-compounding ways.

I'm talking things as simple as letting yourself make trivial mistakes, so people can correct them, and give you the opportunity to graciously accept their criticism. Doing that just once can blow a person's mind, and improve rapport.

Negative self disclosure normally goes a long way too, but only up to a certain point. Admitting you're too dumb to hold a list in your head if it exceeds two items, or read an analogue clock, can be highly endearing. Repeating every 10-60 minutes that you want to kill yourself or others is not so productive.

A lot of it is about vulnerability and reciprocity. When dogs become friends, they bow, and show their bellies and necks. We do that in the form of being honest about our shadows.

Schaffer discusses the idea of a "friend-stranger-foe" continuum, between animals. A major part of Humpty's anxiety is from the fact that any time he's perceived as a stranger, he automatically thinks he's perceived as a foe. Since he puts in no effort to socialize with new people, he's perpetually a stranger.

But the stranger zone is a perfectly comfortable place to start from. And honestly, only assholes expect to be treated like friends immediately. Being likeable isn't fate, you can cultivate it. No matter how crazy you might think you are.

• #3 Pimp by Iceberg Slim •

Whoever told you this is a glorification of pimping, I want you to flick imaginary water from your hand in their face a bunch of times, so they blink wildly, and say, "get outta here, you fibber!" 👋💦

It only glorifies cocaine. But hey, who doesn't? Nothing misogynistic about good ol Lady Caine.

Full disclaimer, I didn't bother rereading this one. When I got it, after I heard Dave Chapelle talking about it, I made it almost half way through and put it down for more than a year. I think it was after he busted out a wire hanger. I just decided I wasn't having fun and fucked off for a sec.

Second time around I completed it, and got to enjoy the redemptive side of the book, where Slim explores his regrets, and discusses psychology. It's a one-of-a-kind book, and as time goes by, I think it'll become an increasingly sought-after piece of reading for future economic historians, criminologists, and linguists.

I'm not afraid of Humpty becoming a violent pimp or anything. He's not going from wet toilet paper, to a state-of-the-art plastic prison shank in one book. And it won't hurt his non-existent game. He's better off seeing dating as a matter of strategy, rather than seeing it as a swordfight against a fart. Though I'll stress, this is not a book on dating.

There's a great number of lessons about acting like you're someone of value, and what happens to those who don't. Lessons about standing up for yourself, and conditions you must NOT accept from others. It's a book about boundaries from a master of dissolving them.

This book instantly came in handy at work. My current job, where I've been since 2019, is so under control I finally started getting coworkers telling me they're jealous and impressed.

I've been throwing around pimp analogies from day one, talking about how, bitch, I give handjobs for a handjob wage. You ain't gonna sidle up next to me like "Psst, hey if you also gave blowjobs for the same fee, you'd be everyone's favorite ho." Motherfucker if you want a blowjob, you better peel me off some head scratch, UP FRONT.

In this case, I'm talking about how I'm a fry cook, and I won't cross train till they say the word "money". Which they won't. So while the other cooks on line get to spend the day pissed off and burnt out, trying to run 2-3 other stations, while the kitchen managers loiter in the office and ponder trivial emails, I'm by my fryers, making tendies and fries, like an angel. I could do it in my sleep. Meanwhile we all get paid the same handjob wage, except for the salaried pigs sitting up stairs, staying cool and unstained, pretending like they're the ones getting airtighted every day.

My fellow cooks are mystified by how little this workplace dicks with my free time. I'm now officially the least exploited human in the building. Not the richest guy, I'll admit. But I value my time more than my money. And I get my time. Plus consistency at one job makes holding a second one easier, should I suddenly value my money more than my time.

Fundamentally this is a general workplace manual. Whether you're the boss, the employees, or the customer; The pimp, the ho, or the trick. It may sound silly for a creamy white boy to break the world down into a glossary of Pimpanese, but what can I say, it's a clarifying lens. Marx broke down capitalism from inside factories. Slim breaks it down from Gropecunt Lane.

Courage, vulnerability, shame, and worthiness are the primary topics of all of Slim's work. He's just the pimp version of Brené Brown.

Spotting a fellow reader of this book is exciting. Part of it is from how taboo it is, like you both read from the same spooky grimoire. Another part is from knowing it's not as evil as its reputation suggests. It's graphic, but not corrupt. I read more violent things in 6th grade.

One of my supervisors has read this, and he's the best supervisor I've ever had. I think he's just naturally a great guy, but he sees eye to eye with me on all this stuff, and I think Pimp has helped him be an anti-pimp. Where he treats people with an abundance of dignity, rather than a pure lack of it.

People have credited Iceberg Slim for having gotten young men involved in pimping. But I believe for every one pimp this book creates, it keeps at least a thousand people safe from pimps, and all other long-legged mackdaddies tryna georgia your square ass out of time and money.

If I wanna work for a guy like Skinny, I better keep my head on straight. But I mean what's the worst that can happen? It's just palm reading. Simple handiwork.

p.s. the whole ass book is free on audible, or YouTube. Enjoy!

• #4 How To Win Friends And Influence People by Dale Carnegie •

How could I not include this? The OG modern self-help book.

One day Dale was like "Jeez, a lot of these businessfolk working at this company are complete assholes. Lemme just grab a book on not being an asshole real qui-- wait nobody wrote a book on that yet? How? Why? Fuck? Shit."

So he wrote this. He beat everyone to the best points a book on personality could make, and wound up surpassing nearly all of his successors.

It's safe to say this series takes the exact opposite of Dale's approach, towards Humpty. The days of me using these tricks to leverage against Humpty's bullshit are over. He will not be sweettalked out of his mud puddle. Believe me I tried.

Here's how you know this book nails it, you just want to be Dale's friend by the end. Man sounds like an absolute sweetie pie. 11/10. I know Humpty would find Carnegie's words touching, knowing how inconsiderately he says everyone treats him.

It's full of advice you already knew was lovely, but maybe you never consciously made a rule out of it. Like never scold people, expect 99% of people to never self criticize, appeal to people's self importance, never get caught flattering like a sneaky pimp, treat people's names with great significance, ask tons of questions, admit your faults before people spot them, be like a dog, the list goes on. And most importantly they're all things any high functioning autist can master. I guarantee.

This book helped put an end to my internet arguing. That, and the fact that it's a pastime that can get you shamed off of the internet, if you have too much fun doing it. I still think there should be safe places on the internet for people to consensually let their memes mosh about violently. But knowing that it doesn't convince anyone, the fun kinda vanished.

I tried changing strangers through comment sections, nothing made a difference. Then I tried hunkering down and changing a friend, face to face, still no luck. Either I'm a shit teacher, or we can only teach ourselves.

I even tried the "make a suggestion, let them mull it over in their head, then let the seed grow till they think they came up with the idea themselves" trick. Problem was, Humpty never mulled over ideas, or repeated anything back to you, unless it was sarcastic.

These books also told me if I listen intensely to Humpty, he'll feel compelled to reciprocate and listen back.... nope.... just a fucking ne'er-do-well.

Now, Christopher Lasch in The Culture Of Narcissism partially blames books like these for our society's increasing narcissism. But I don't know if I can fully agree. The emphasis on giving a shit about other people in this book is enormous. The real magic happens when you care about your fellow man, not just pretend to. Granted, this book is a philistine masterpiece. It's not about being an ethical person per se, just a damn charming one, and a successful capitalist; Ivan Ilyich virtues.

As The Gift Of Fear puts it, "charming" is a verb, not an adjective. Charming is not something you are, but something you do. Doesn't make you good, just makes you lovely. It's compatible with any moral system you want, unless you think it's immoral to have charisma.

There's a lot of cool similarities between Carnegie's advice and ancient Egyptian religion. Like the idea that the most powerful thing a being has is its own ability to pay attention, and give things its awareness; the eye. And that your power over the gods depends on your ability to speak their name correctly. It's timeless wisdom.

• #5 The Prince by Nicolo Machiavelli •

This has been a very red topic. Influence is a red thing, I guess. Lets take a sec and enjoy some other colours:

nice

Machiavelli's got an unfairly bad reputation. "Machiavellian" is fancy booktalk for "a manipulative, amoral piece of shit." In psychology, it's known as a "dark triad" trait, alongside narcissism and psychopathy; a pathological will to power. In politics, it means cynicism, heartless realism, and the pursuit of power for power's sake.

But Machiavelli was a cool dude, and y'all better quit talkin shit. It's all catholic propaganda. Before him, political philosophers and theologians were the same thing. I'm talking baldy-headed monk looking dicks like Thomas Aquinas.

Then Nicolo came along, and told everyone that politics is in fact not informed by god, but by mundane humans, with mundane forms of power and influence. Always has been, always will be. No more mysterious or esoteric than a game of poker.

Odious thing to say, from the church's point of view. They were the Google of the renaissance, and wanted a monopoly on control over the creation and elimination of princes. They also, most importantly, wanted it all done in secret.

Nico's goal wasn't to blow the lid off of their scheme, his goal was to kiss one guy's ass, land a sweet gig in his court, and enjoy a wealthy life. Son of a lawyer, shooting for an advisor's position. What's new?

As Gladwell might put it, he wrote the first book on the political full-court press. Books on leadership back then just listed off moral ideals, and stories of virtue from history. Instead of flowery aikido poses and chakra alignment, Machiavelli gave instructions for making molotov cocktails and Millwall bricks.

It takes some deciphering, however. Everything he talks about requires a sense of analogy, since it's 500 years old, and he most definitely wasn't talking to you. Nobody's becoming a prince nowadays, so who gives a fuck? Well a "prince" is just a boss, and a "principality" is just a corporation of any kind; a body, a super organism. It's a book on group behavior. Skinny was the prince of the Jackson Square psychics.

Don't get me wrong, the more openly Machiavellian a leader is, the more terribly they seem to act. But I don't value this book as a wannabe prince. I wanna be prince-proof. And a book like this helps put you in the mind of the people in charge of you. They have weaknesses, and they're predictable. It's all poker, and Machiavelli irreversibly exposed cards in every boss's hand. And not just what's in their hand, but what their tells are. Should be considered a must-read by all political journalists who consider themselves "watchdogs".

He uses an analogy that I love: the idea that any painter knows, if he wants a good look at the plains, he should view from a mountain, and if he wants a good look at a mountain, he should view from the plains.

From the mountain side of the equation, where power lives, this book didn't fundamentally change much (unlike Nicolo's Discourses on Livy, which hugely influenced republicanism). Up there, they were always Machiavellian. But down here on the plains, it gave us telescopes, topographic maps, geological charts, and seismography.

You don't want Machiavelli in your leadership, you want him in your populace. Nicolo brought down fire from the gods, and he was punished by both parties. The gods for theft, and man for illuminating bad news. He was all light, without any sweetness.

Humpty is no idealist. And he's Machiavellian in only the colloquial sense; he's cynical, secular, and pessimistic. But he'd be way better off being so in the direct sense, in line with the man's actual sound advice. Because the real deal isn't nihilistic, it's empowering.

• End Bit •

Each of these books are spotlight-effect-inducing pieces of work. There's a fine line between conscientious and insecure. I hesitate to tell people how much I read about psychology, because I don't want Machiavelli's bad name to rub off on me. I constantly interrogate myself as to whether this journey is about truth, or manipulating others.

My brother and I have, since we were kids, recognized the manipulative power of comedy. How you could disarm, hypnotize, distract, or humiliate people. We wonder how much our sense of humor is a martial art we picked up along the way. As opposed to some beautiful generous impulse, from the muses. All I know is it has kept me out of fights with perfect reliability, despite how many ass beatings I truly deserved.

Humpty's pretty funny, by the way. When he's not Eeyore, and he forgets he's autistic, he's as witty as the best of them. Wednesday didn't only bring him into the group because he was pitiful. It's not like there's no prince in this frog, he just won't kiss back. The motherfucker.

It's hard to say exactly how much these books improved my personality or behavior. I know I learned a lot of these techniques independently, and I wonder how much I chose books just to hear my own thoughts reflected back at me. To feel vindicated, like "Aooh! I knew that was a good idea!"

But I also know when I started reading about this topic in the 10th grade, a therapist of mine had me written down as "extremely pessimistic, rudderless, and angry." By the 12th grade, though I was fully intent on dropping out of highschool, I seemed to have otherwise made a mental flip. Wednesday was 10x worse, and took longer to flip. But now he's actively working in a homeless shelter, becoming a therapist himself, filling his life with meaning, and helping people who actually need it.

All the shit I said in earlier entries, about morality and meaning, those are lovely, but they are slow goals; eulogy stuff. In the meantime, he can get his charisma under control in a fraction of the time. He's better off being scrumptiously unscrupulous, than scrupulously unscrumptious. He's not looking to get into heaven, just invited back to hang out.

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nalledimessi · 4 years ago

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Getting dress up, trick or treat and boo.

Pairing: Hope, Reader & Elijah.

Word count: 1485

Drabble topics: Getting dress up, trick or treat and boo.

Warnings: For all ages.

Author’s notes: I just can’t help myself and included this 3 topics together, making this drabble more long than I expect, but you should agree with me, they are just perfect together and for today. Happy Halloween to all of you! I hope you like the photo that I made. To be true I want more moments of Hope & Elijah.

You have arrived at the Mikaelson Compound half an another ago, Elijah have ask you to meet him here after you were out of job but you haven’t found anyone, so you retrieve to his room to wait for him, you were reading one of his books when voices where hear at the courtyard, making you reach the doorway.

-You said you would take me- you heard Hope shout.

-I did said that, but something came up and you need to stay here until we work it out- Haley try to explain her.

-I hate this- she state.

-Where is everyone?- Haley ask to anyone is particular.

That was your quote to make you notice -Hi- you said shyly to them from the upper floor while going downstairs.

-[Y/N]!- Hope said running to you as soon you hit the end of the stairs and hug you by your legs.

-Hey Hope- hugging her back -why are you so fussy?- you ask her.

-I want to go for trick or treat but mom can’t take me and neither dad- she answer you sad, looking at you.

-I’m sure they have their reason Hope- you said smiling at her and then watching Haley- everything is fine?- you ask her.

She nod -Yeah, we need to take care of something- emphasis in the last word.

And whit that you know she means someone instead something but for the sake of Hope wasn’t admitted it. -I see- you look down to Hope and then back to Haley -what about if I take her to go for trick or treat?- you question her.

Hope remove his arms from your legs as soon she hear you and look to her mother -Oh, please mom!- giving her best puppy eyes -please- she repeat.

Haley look away her daughter and watch you instead -Are you sure?-

-Yeah, sure- you reply.

She sigh -Fine, just behave and obey [Y/N], now get dress up- Hope was running up the stairs to her room even before Haley finish to tell her, making both of you smile.

-Anything I need to know?- you question her.

-Nothing to worry about, just don’t leave her out of your sight- she express.

-Don’t worry, I will send a message to Elijah and let him know where we’re - you assure her.

-Thank you-

-Anytime, I know you want her to have a normal childhood and nothing scream more than normal that go for trick or treat on Halloween, at least was for me- you confess to her.

-You’re right- she grin to you -I don’t want to overstep here but can she stay with you tonight?-

-Sure don’t worry, I would probably will stay here- you mention to her.

She nod -I should get going- she look over the stairs -Hope, I’m going. I will pick you up tomorrow-

-Ok, bye mom. Love you- you heard Hope shout from her room.

-Love you too- she respond -See you tomorrow [Y/N]- leaving the Compound.

-Bye Haley- you said before going up the stairs to find Hope, she was wearing a velvet grey dress hood with ears and tail attached, faux fur at the end of the dress and sleeves with black boots. -You look awesome Hope!- you compliment her.

-I want to be just like mom and dad- she said excited -what are you going to wear?- she ask

-Me?- you ask her surprised.

-Of course, silly- she giggle.

-All right, let’s get dress up and see what we can found on uncle Elijah’s room, come on cub- you call her before exit her room and in direction of Elijah’s.

She run toward the bed as soon you were inside the room and make herself comfortable enough. You watch her sideways taking the book you set previously on the nightstand, while you look among Elijah’s wardrobe.

-Here it’s- you exclaim at the time you found a velour red dress sleeveless and v-neckline from waist until it ends a little bit loose. -I just need a red cape and black flat shoes- you affirmed more to you than to Hope.

-I saw one in aunt Rebekah’s room- she said before exit the room running.

-Of course she have one- you express amused before enter the bathroom and change. When you were out Hope was back in the bed reading, red cape lay next to her and your black flats on the floor next to the bed. -Thank you cub-

-Your welcome, red riding hood- she answer you giggling.

-How do I look?- you call her attention once your shoes were on and the cape over you and tie it at your neck.

-Ready to ask for trick and treat!- she exclaim standing on the bed.

-Calm down cub- you extend your hand to help her down -a few thing before we go- she sit on the edge of the bed and listen to you -no powers allowed and no matter what you not leave my side, understood?- you declared dead serious.

-Understood- she said nodding enthusiastic.

-Go get your Halloween candy bag while I send a message to your uncle Elijah- you ask her.

-I will take Hope to go treat or trick, we will start on Dutch Alley and end on French Market District. We get dress up as a werewolf cub and red riding hood. Meet us there? Love you.- you wait a few minutes but no respond from him, when Hope arrived with an orange plastic pumpkin in hand.

-Are you ready, cub?- you ask her.

-Yes!- she answer excited.

You extend your hand for her and start your way to the Dutch Alley. The streets of New Orleans where decorated from simple to extravagant Halloween topics, the shops that remain open give candies to the passing children.

-This is the best Halloween ever!- she announce with a big smile.

You chuckle to her excitement -I’m glad to hear it cub. Let’s get you more candies!- you told her.

All the way down to French Market District you where felling observe after that, you didn’t left Hope out of your sight and reach, always walking hand in hand, at each stop you observed your surroundings looking for something out of the common.

-[Y/N]- Hope call your attention once you finish the French market.

You glazed to her with an smile -Ready to go home?- you ask her.

-Yes, so we can eat all the candies- she answer.

-First dinner then the candies, alright?- reaching for her hand.

-Ok- she vaguely answer as paying attention to other thing far away.

-Everything alright Hope?- you question her notice her.

-Yeah- she answer with a smile and giggling.

-Come here- you pick her up in your arms, trying to keep her as closer to you.

You start your way back the Compound as more you walk away the French market less people where on the streets, once you reach the Pere Antoine Alley you start to hear steps behind you making you hug Hope.

You stop and gently put her down kneeling in front of her -If anything happen I want you to run as fast you can back home and don’t get out until I or uncle Elijah arrived, ok?- you whisper to her.

You start to hear someone using vamp speed to surrounding you, immediately you stand bringing Hope next to you.

-Boo!- a familiar voice exclaim behind you.

You turn around -Don’t do that ever again Elijah! You scare the hell out of me!-you shout to him.

-I knew it was you Uncle Elijah- Hope giggle next to you then run to him, who pick her up in his arms, a big smile on his face.

-Oh geez!, thank you for letting me know cub- you said crossing your arms.

-He told me not to- she reveal snuggling to him.

-My sincerely apology love, but it was so tempting for not to do it- he express walking to your side and pull you in a hug.

-Just don’t do it again- you relax in his arms.

-I won’t- he promised kissing your forehead -so, what we have here?- he gently retrieve from you, watching Hope asleep in his shoulder to then turn his sight to you.

-An asleep werewolf cub and red riding hood- you said while turning around in your spot to provide a full view of your costume.

-That makes me the hunter, isn’t it?- he ask you, earning a nodding from your part.

-A very handsome and well dress hunter, I may said- you respond in a flirtatious tone.

-And you my dear look astonishing- he lend to whisper on your ear -Could you wear it at the bedroom tonight?- he whisper in a hoarse voice.

-We will see- you answer him patting his chest -First let’s take the sleeping cub back home- starting your way back home.

-As you wish- he respond following you.

#the originals #reader #hope mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #elijah x you #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah x reader #elijah x female reader #halloween #getting dressed up #trick or treat #boo #werewolf cub #red riding hood #hunter #hayley marshall #you #happy halloween

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new-orleans-la-life · 5 years ago

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Climate

New Orleans, Louisiana gets an average of 64 inches of rain per year compared to the US average of 38 inches of rain per year. The city gets an average of 0 inches of snow per year compared to the US average of 28 inches of snow per year. People living in New Orleans enjoy an average of 216 sunny days per year compared to the US average of 205 sunny days. The city gets some kind of precipitation 108 days per year on average. Precipitation is rain, snow, sleet, or hail that falls to the ground and in order to be measured, there have to be at least .01 inches on the ground. Summer high in the city is recorded in July at around 92 degrees Fahrenheit while winter low is recorded in January at 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

Times Picayune-New Orleans Advocate co-owner John Georges involved in communications related to church sex abuse scandal

NEW ORLEANS, La. (WVUE) - In a FOX 8 exclusive, a source tells us prominent businessman and Times Picayune-New Orleans Advocate co-owner John Georges may have participated in behind the scenes communications involving the Archdiocese’s release of credibly accused pedophile priests. Read more here.

Nowadays, it seems difficult to trust not just the people in power but also religious leaders. One reason for this is because of the alleged involvement of John Georges in a religious scandal. Georges is a prominent businessman and Times Picayune-New Orleans Advocate co-owner said to may have participated in behind the scenes communications concerning accused church sex abuse victims. The attorneys representing the said victims as well as the Associated Press have been fighting to have emails between those involved made public. It seems that influential people attempted to remove the names of credibly accused priests from the pedophile list.

St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans LA

The St. Louis Cathedral is one of New Orleans' most notable landmarks with its towering triple steeple overlooking Jackson Square, where one can find Andrew Jackson sitting atop his bronze horse. Few cities in the world are identified by such a building as New Orleans. Its history stretches back to the 1720s and is considered to be the oldest Catholic Cathedral in the United States. Though the original church has long since been destroyed, its current design was completed in the mid-1850s. The residents of New Orleans have been worshipping on St. Louis Cathedral for almost 300 years and is a must-visit for devout Catholics visiting the city.

One of FreeWheelin' Bike Tours' most popular guided tours is the Creole & Crescent which is an original tour that established the bike rental company's reputation in New Orleans. This guided tour is perfect for New Orleans first-timers, families, and anyone who loves bike riding, sightseeing, and having a good time! They provide bikers with single-gear cruisers with a front hand brake and rear coaster brake plus the most comfortable seats that you can find. They can also provide you with a helmet if you prefer to wear one, a cold bottle of water, basket and bell, and of course, a licensed tour guide.

Link to maps

St. Louis Cathedral 615 Pere Antoine Alley, New Orleans, LA 70116

Head northwest on St Peter toward Cabildo Alley 0.2 mi

Turn left onto Dauphine St 0.3 mi

Turn right onto Bienville St 0.1 mi

Turn right onto N Rampart St Destination will be on the right 164 ft

FreeWheelin' Bike Tours & Rentals

New Orleans, LA 70112

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mutineerbay · 5 years ago

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#Repost @davidlhoste ・・・ Pirate's Alley, French Quarter, New Orleans. From the author of five books on NOLA history, Edward Branley: "While one can imagine a foggy evening in 1814, when General Andrew Jackson stepped out to the Cabildo as the seat of government for the newly-created State of Louisiana to tryst with Jean Lafitte the “privateer,” there’s just no historical foundation for the legend. Given Lafitte’s business (smuggling and contraband), it doesn’t seem likely that he would hang out in so public a place as next to the largest church (at the time) in the city. It’s possible that Jean’s brother, Pierre, might have used the alley as a meeting place, but that’s also unlikely. Pierre was arrested and imprisoned by the U.S. government in 1814 for smuggling and piracy. Jean negotiated with Jackson to secure Pierre’s “escape” from prison, in exchange for intelligence on the British prior to the Battle of New Orleans. So, why would Pierre have an aversion to that part of town? The prison was in the Cabildo, right across the alleyway. That doesn’t stop the story from being told, of course. Perhaps it’s that checkered (albeit fictional) past that led William Faulkner to the alley in 1925. Renting space at 625 Orleans Alley (the official name of the alley at the time), Faulkner wrote his first novel, Soldier’s Pay, there. Pirate’s Alley (and its mate on the other side of the cathedral, now known as Pere Antoine Alley) were originally unpaved passageways. Measuring approximately 600 feet long and 16 feet wide, the alleyways were paved with cobblestones in the 1830s." #neworleans #architecture #frenchquarter https://www.instagram.com/p/B8K4XYSDfKN/?igshid=1iijn3cmzxlme

#repost #neworleans #architecture #frenchquarter

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pcurrytravels · 7 years ago

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Thoughts: New Orleans (Part VI)

Upon disembarking from the boat, we saw that the Audubon Aquarium was still open for another thirty minutes. Given that it was only around the corner from Spanish Plaza, we quickly walked over and, despite being repeatedly told we’d only have twenty minutes, just went on ahead and took a look around…………only to leave fifteen minutes later. Having been to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago and the Aquarium of The Bay in San Francisco, maybe I just wasn’t judging it fairly. Or maybe I was, because those two blow this one out of the water (pun not intended……but it’s still pretty funny that I used this phrase to describe an aquarium of all things).

One thing the Audubon Aquarium has going for it is being themed around aquatic life in The Americas. There were sections dedicated to nautical life in and around the Caribbean, the Amazon, the Arctic, the Great Lakes and of course, the Mississippi. That’s also where things stop being interesting pretty much. It’s very small, which is odd because the building looks so large from the outside, and the only exhibits that really caught my eye were the piranhas, the catfish (mostly because I’ve never seen live catfish before) and the albino gator. I’d honestly suggest skipping this one entirely, unless you’ve never been to an aquarium before.

Anyway, my phone was dying, and I was musty anyway, so we went back to the hotel room to recuperate. I took a shower, charged my phone and relaxed for about an hour before heading back to the French Quarter. There were about two hours before the Haunted History tour began, so I grabbed some more beignets from Café Beignet as a snack before we hung out on Bourbon again for a little bit.

Even though the history, culture and food were all a higher priority for me than nightlife, I do regret not really taking part in New Orleans nightlife. On Bourbon alone, there’s just so much variety in the nightlife. There’s many different options available, from jam-packed party bars no larger than a booth (see: Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop), to bawdy strip clubs (see: Rick’s Cabaret and Hustler Hollywood), to classy, historical cocktail lounges (see: Old Absinthe House), to tacky, touristy daiquiri shops (see: Tropical Isle and Cat’s Meow) to small live music clubs (see: Bourbon Heat and Funky Pirate), there really is something for everyone there (compare this to The Strip in Vegas where you’ll be treated to an endless amount of mega-clubs, poolside day-clubs and “ultra” lounges that all require one of your limbs to get in, all charge a kidney for drinks, all have disturbingly similar décor and all play the same music). And that’s just Bourbon. I saw a number of venues that caught my interest in not only the rest of the Quarter, but Marigny, CBD, the Warehouse District and the Garden District as well.

I was honestly having a blast just walking down the street and looking in the window of the various bars and lounges; it was only 6 P.M., and they were all already in full swing. I heard so many styles of music. Jazz (be it Brass, Dixie, BeBop or Smooth), R&B, Funk, Bounce, EDM, Blues, Zydeco, Hip Hop, 70s and 80s throwbacks, Top 40, Rock, Ska, Caribbean, Latino…..you name it, they got it. Of course that’s to say nothing of the BEAUTIFUL happy hours and drink specials all over the place. I learned my lesson about having a few drinks before walking around in the heat the hard way on the Cemetery tour, so I refrained from taking part this time, but boy oh boy was I tempted. Let the good times roll/Laissez les bon temps rouler indeed!

Okay, let me take a look at my smartphone watch again. Oh, it’s 7:30 already!? Well then, let’s head on down to Reverend Zombie’s Voodoo Shop for the Haunted History Tour!

There’s a number of ghost tours in New Orleans, all of which varying in quality (based on what I’ve been told anyway), but I could already tell we had picked one of the better ones. Both the shop and the sidewalk in front were overflowing with people. There was a long line, which would be broken up into groups of twenty or so for each tour guide. The sun was setting on the Quarter, and with Sarabelle as our guide, we were off.

Our first stop was in Pere Antoine Alley. It was here where our guide gave us the rundown on investigating ghosts and the supernatural, complete with plenty of witty banter. Yes, Sarabelle was VERY funny, and the humor was a nice touch indeed, even though it didn’t really help make the stories any less horrific.

Moving on, Pere Antoine Alley is along the side of the St. Louis Cathedral; so-named as a dedication to Antonio de Sedella, a beloved Capuchin friar who served as parish priest from 1805 until his death in 1829. Now, local lore states that said alley is haunted by a friar, but whether it’s Pere Antoine or someone else is up for debate. Said alley was also the location of a funeral procession for the six, executed leaders (whose corpses were left to rot in front of the St. Louis Cathedral for WEEKS, mind you) of the brief rebellion which took place against the Spanish Inquisition, wherein another friar known as Pere Dagobert loudly sang the Kyrie. It’s been said that during the early-morning hours, or whenever it’s raining, you can hear the sound of the Kyrie, sometimes accompanied by the sight of a Capuchin monk in this very alley.

From there, we walked down Chartres to Hotel Provincial. Old-timey, quaint, elegant and VERY haunted. What’s the story behind this one, you ask? Apparently, a portion of it served as a military hospital during the Civil War………yeah. I’m pretty sure we all know that war-related injuries tend to be the sort that require surgery and sometimes even amputation. I also don’t think I need to explain the horrors of surgery and amputation in the 1800’s. Basically, anyone who knows the backstory of this place and chooses to stay there on purpose is crazy.

This site in particular is very susceptible to a paranormal phenomenon known as time-warping (I personally think the FQ as a whole has a predisposition towards that actually, but more on that later). Our guide alerted us to a number of reported instances where guests took the elevator, only for the doors to open to the sight of an 1860’s era hospital. People have also reported seeing confederate soldiers writhing in pain on the floor, mysterious blood stains on towels and bedding and even women in mid-1800’s clothing standing on the balconies, likely apparitions of the soldier’s widows.

I feel that I had an experience of my own just walking past; see that photo above? Yeah, I was standing perfectly still for it, and it still came out blurry AF. I took about ten photos of this place and ALL of them came out like that. Maybe my phone’s camera was just acting up. But then again, the lens of a camera is much more infallible than the eyes of a human. Also, while I am very much a believer, mind you, I think I need to give the skeptical part of my brain a bit of thanks. After all, our next stop of the tour was Louisiana’s very own gate to hell the infamous mansion on the corner of Royal and Gov. Nicholls. Widely referred to by locals as merely “The Haunted House,” this was once the home of a demon in the shape of a woman known as Delphine LaLaurie.

Another character you all may know from American Horror Story: Coven; like Marie Laveau, many liberties were taken with her story (the scenes filmed in or around her “house” actually made use of the Hermann-Grima House……..not that I blame them one bit for not using the real thing). That being said, in regards to her story and what really happened, it’s actually pretty difficult to tell where the legitimate facts stop and the sensationalized scandal begins as it is.

As you can see, I did provide a link to a video that gives a basic rundown of what happened, but truthfully speaking that’s one of about twenty different versions of the story I’ve heard over the years. Long story short, she was a local celebrity who threw lavish parties in a big gray house on Royal Street during the 1830’s. Suddenly, a fire broke out in 1834 and it’s revealed that she’s a madwoman engaging in extreme mistreatment of her slaves. The whole town is outraged (yes, you read that right, Delphine was regarded as a special kind of evil even by the standards of antebellum-era Louisiana) and she skips town in the dead of night as a result. Shortly after she left, neighbors began to report hearing screams and cries from the empty house at night; claims which still persist to this day.

The news reports from the era which regard said event are in one of two categories: a highly scandalized and exploitative version of events as seen in the New Orleans Bee, or a brief rundown that gives very little detail as seen in the Times-Picayune. In each version of the story I’ve seen and/or heard, the only details that remain consistent are a young slave girl jumping to her death after LaLaurie chased her around with a whip for brushing her hair too hard, the house fire, said fire being started by a slave who was chained to the stove, a horrific sight in some room on an upper floor, and the LaLauries fleeing shortly afterward. Beyond that, the details widely vary.

In our tour guide’s version of the tale, we were told that the slaves were never seen at the parties, which contradicts what I read previously about how each party seemed to have a different set of slaves; each individual slave rarely ever being seen more than once. And that’s only one of many discrepancies. Honestly, this is a story that was highly sensationalized from the get-go, and it’s only gotten even more exaggerated and over the top over the years, so you can’t get mad about it when the actual truth of what happened has simply been lost to time.

After the events of 1834, Madame LaLaurie was never seen or heard from again. General consensus is that she fled to Paris, but it’s been speculated she may have been hiding out in either Mobile, Alabama or some town across Pontchartrain like Slidell or Covington under an assumed identity. There’s even evidence which suggests she may have discretely returned to New Orleans at some point, if the nameplate and possible burial vault in St. Louis No. 1 says anything. After all, she really did love her house.

Over the years, the house has been used for many different purposes. At first, it went through a revolving door of owners, none of which staying for more than a few months. There was one man who mysteriously turned up dead in the house actually. In the 1870’s, it served as a segregated school for black girls (…….I would say something witty here if I wasn’t rendered speechless), only to shut down a year later thanks to numerous girls complaining about getting scratched and bruised by “that woman.” After that it’s been the location of a number of establishments, most notably a music conservatory, a furniture store and a saloon; all of which quickly failed (gee, I wonder why). In the 1890’s, most of the mansion was converted into apartments; first as low-income tenement units, largely occupied by Italian immigrants and briefly a homeless shelter before becoming luxury apartments in the 1950’s, although the first floor would still be occupied by a revolving door of businesses until the late 20th-century when it was reconverted to a mansion. The revolving door of owners persisted; Nicolas Cage bought the home and started living there in 2007……shortly before his career tanked and he went bankrupt, leading to foreclosure in 2009. Just a coincidence? Could be……but it’s not like this house has had a good track record with any of its tenants over the last 180 years.

These days, it’s owned by an oil tycoon from Texas who hires interior decorators and caretakers to furnish and maintain the house but otherwise does nothing with it. Basically, the “Haunted House” just stands there looking pretty (in the eeriest way possible) and that’s it. Then again, what with past business tenants and residents reporting apparitions of naked men in chains and frightened children pleading for help, a dubious black liquid oozing out of the walls and even the vengeful spirit of Madame LaLaurie herself roaming around, would you want to stay there? Let alone enter?

I tried to take a few pictures but night had fallen, and they all came out way too dark to see anything. As did most of the pictures I had taken after this point ( although I did catch some strange, green and/or blue colored mist within said darkness in a few of them......makes you wonder). In terms of lighting, aside from Bourbon Street and the vicinity of Jackson Square and the French Market, the French Quarter is VERY dark at night. It really did feel like I had stepped back into the 1800’s, and was also why I abstained from going there at night for most of my trip. Not trying to get drunk down there alone, lest I either get mugged or unsuspectingly walk into a time warp of my own.

Whilst spooked by the darkened Quarter, we came upon an unassuming Creole townhouse at 823 Orleans, one of many homes in the area fronted by a gallery held up with poles that are adorned with decorative, protruding trimming of sorts, named “Romeo spikes” in the local lingo. However, they’re anything but romantic; there’s a very gruesome story behind how they got that name, and this property is where it took place.

The story goes that one night, the man who owned this house wanted to take his family to dinner, but his daughter claimed to not be feeling well, so she stayed home while he and his wife went about their way. Upon arriving at the restaurant, he realized he forgot his wallet and quickly went home to retrieve it, only to find his daughter in bed with her boyfriend. Startled, the boyfriend quickly ran out and jumped over the balcony……..only to get stabbed in the hip by one of the spikes. Not able to support his weight, the spike ripped through the entire side of his abdomen, pulling out his intestines in the process, before he fell to this death. It’s alleged that sometimes a shadowy figure can be seen dangling off this gallery from afar, only to vanish if one takes a closer look.

After that, we took a little break. I talked with Sarabelle for a little bit, particularly asking about the Gardette-LaPrete House, only to learn that the tale of a sultan and his harem moving in, only for them to get massacred a few weeks later, is totally fictional (sad face). There’s no news reports of such a thing happening nor is there any record of a sultan ever living at the property. Even then, I still have to ask how such a story came about in the first place. I doubt such a tale would just sprout out of thin air, but moving on, during the break I walked over a block to Bourbon only to see a rowdy second-line in front of Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop.

While tapping my toes to the second line, I peered inside Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop for a moment. Built in the 1770’s, and one of the few structures in the Quarter that survived the 1788 fire, it was originally a blacksmith shop (obviously) that also doubled as a base of operations of the pirate Jean Laffite for a time. Currently a bar, evoking an old-timey feel, it’s lit only by candles, and is also very haunted. Granted, it’s utterly packed with people so not a good location for investigating, but it has long been claimed that the spirit of Jean Laffite himself can be seen blending in with the crowd, only to disappear when spotted; in addition to being the hiding place of a demon who wanders around with disembodied red eyes.

After our little break, we then headed over to the Voodoo Spiritual Temple on 826 Rampart. In a bit of more recent history, we learned about the couple who resided in the upstairs apartment ten years ago, Zack and Addie. They first garnered attention during Hurricane Katrina, being two of a handful of people in the French Quarter who didn’t evacuate. They’d assist in cleanup efforts, would provide food and other necessities to those in need and helped prevent the various businesses in the area from being looted.

As soon as things went back to normal in New Orleans, things immediately went downhill for the couple. They’d regularly binge on drugs and alcohol, going on to argue and fight as a result. This all persisted for a year until one night where Zack committed suicide by jumping off the roof of the Omni Royal hotel. In his pocket, a note was found that pleaded with the authorities to go back to his apartment and check on his girlfriend (***WARNING*** very graphic details ahead).

And that they did, they entered the apartment, only to find that no one was there………until they checked the kitchen. Inside the oven, they found arms and legs. The pot on the stove contained a human head. Inside the fridge was a large bag containing a torso. Zack had killed, dismembered and attempted to cook Addie. Although cannibalism was widely speculated, a suicide note found in the apartment suggests that Zack was trying to think of a way to dispose of her body and turned to cooking it as a last resort.

The apartment has remained unoccupied ever since, although it is available to rent, and the resident priestess of the Voodoo temple downstairs does offer tours. Apparently, no one’s even bothered to change the stove and the refrigerator ever since that grisly incident took place (…….*shudder*). It’s theorized that a sort of demonic entity has long lurked the premises, and said being is what ultimately drove Zack mad. Even I couldn’t shake the feeling of something with evil intentions staring at me from the darkened windows of the upper floor apartment.

Next, we were taken to a gallery that has paintings of a blue dog on display. Although the artist claims that they were painted as a tribute to his dead dog, it’s widely believed to be a depiction of a creature from Cajun and/or rural Louisianan folklore known as the Rougarou. Like a cross between a werewolf and a wendigo, it is a beast that wanders the swamps and the bayous, and if bitten, you will become one yourself. Granted, there’s no real haunting (or even much fact) behind this one, it’s likely just a story Cajun elders told children so they’d behave, but it was still neat to learn about either way.

Our tour concluded in the alley on the other side of St. Louis Cathedral, known as Pirates Alley. One of many alleged hangouts of Jean Laffite, it’s said that his ghost wanders this location as well. With the lighting on the Jesus statue in the cathedral’s courtyard casting an ominous shadow on the backside of the building, it was here where Sarabelle bid us adieu. From there, well, we were hungry, so we made our way over to Café Maspero.

Café Maspero was delicious, if not necessarily mind-blowing. I had appetizer-size bowls of both gumbo and jambalaya, and it did feel good to finally try these two dishes I have long been fond of in their place of birth. My mom ordered a muffaletta. I had a bite and I honestly just thought it was too much going on, but she liked it. Once we were finished and I washed it all down with my Voodoo Doll daiquiri, we then made our way back to the hotel to rest up for our last day in New Orleans. And I honestly didn’t want to leave.

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