#some of the more obscure ones I kept off the poll

[goryhorroor]

reblog/or write in the tags some of the movies you watched in school/or your favorite (i'll be adding them to a letterboxd list) here: x

[genericpuff]

a shapeshifting time traveler and his apprentice who works as a minimum wage barista get pissed because their perfect speedrun keeps getting ruined by two teenagers with a kill count

they're about to run attempt 9999 and the barista is terrified that his boss is about to end up in some Y2K situation

the time traveler is very old and really does not care for the pop culture references from his apprentice whose strongest skill is creating latte art

they don't even get the bragging rights of being the main characters but still have to do the job of the main characters because the actual main characters are too involved in their love/hate relationship to be any good at saving the world

this is time gate.

---------

OKAY BUT HONESTLY I've been kind of stressing over making this post not because I didn't want to follow through on that poll I hosted, but also just because like... it's original work! And it's original work that I've been doing for over a decade in relative obscurity. So it's a little nerve-wracking to be like "Hey guys! Go read this comic that I started drawing nearly a decade ago! It really shows!" especially when I'm doing it from an alt account (i.e. this one) that people know me for being relatively confident on. It's like being that "one kid" in show & tell with their Pokemon cards all over again 🤣 I kept trying to come up with some kind of post that would "justify" me posting about it all, but nothing felt "good enough" so I finally went back to this draft about Springlock and decided to use that as the icebreaker. It's now or never.

Time Gate is a dark fantasy series I've been working on since about 2007/2008ish. It's existed on the Internet in multiple forms, starting as a Zelda fanfic online in 2009 and then dropping all the Zelda stuff and turning into an original comic series in 2014. Since then its first installment, Reaper, finished in 2021, two hours before the 'untimely' death of Betty White that totally wasn't the fault of my main character who can predict people's deaths. Reaper's completed narration of the beginning of [loop: 9998] clocks in at over 2,000 pages.

Now I'm working on Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] which is a direct continuation of Reaper and is drawn in the more vertical webtoon style. Yes, the choice of title is intentional, funnily enough the episode featuring my main character bursting out of a tub of her own blood and bodily fluids only got removed by Webtoons for having "too much boob curve". So I covered it up with more blood and that got Webtoons' seal of approval. Webtoons is... weird.

This series is a love letter to all those "weird kids" who grew up wondering why they got dopamine rushes off of arguments and fights or getting in over their heads trying to grow up too fast. It's a love letter to the people who love hyper-analyzing convoluted and way-too-long narratives with overpowered characters who could only exist within the limitless bounds of the imagination.

But most of all, it's a love letter to the part of me that still adores dumb over-the-top weeb shit.

That being said, this piece of work is not intended to provide comfort, but rather, catharsis. Don't read it looking for any kind of guidance on life or interpersonal relationships. Its story and its characters are only concerned with what comes after - when the lights have gone out and the hourglass has run empty.

This series contains blood/gore and fantasy violence, and depicts adult topics such as post-traumatic stress disorder through a fictional lens. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18+.

I have a dedicated Time Gate blog, so you might see some reblogs here every now and then as I start to use it more (though I'm currently resting through a hiatus, LORE | REKINDLED came around at the perfect time for me to have something new to work on).

As you may have guessed, with Reaper originally launching in 2014 (when I was literally 18) the comic has... not aged gracefully, at least in my opinion, and could use some reworking, at least the first few volumes (I'm still pretty happy with the stuff that came out around the 2019-2021 mark after I took a nearly 2 year hiatus).

Of course, I can't stop y'all from looking it up and reading it (the original version will still be canon even if it's aged so help yourself) but just know there's a dedicated redraw and rewrite on the way <3

And if it's not your cup of tea, that's fine! It's a completely different story with different goals from Rekindled. The main characters aren't saints and they're in a relationship I definitely wouldn't recommend anyone be in LMAO

That being said, don't be surprised if you hear the subtle heartbeat of Time Gate underneath the floorboards of Rekindled~

[farfromsugafanfic]

Heartbreak Weather

Genre: Weatherman!Jin, Metropolis/loosely based off comic books, Rivalry, soft Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jin/Male Reader

Warnings: all the sexual tension lol, hurricanes

Synopsis: The rival weatherman at Channel 5 just so happens to be Kim Seokjin who you just so happened to have had a thing with in college. Sort of. When a hurricane brings the two of you back together again, the forecast calls for love and dredged up feelings.

﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"Will you please turn that off?" you asked, taking a sip of your coffee. Normally, you took it with a little vanilla-flavored creamer, but much like that morning's coffee, you were bitter.

"Aw, why? Seokjin looks so cute in his turtleneck this morning," one of the writers said, fawning over the Channel 5 weatherman. "Maybe you should start wearing turtlenecks. It might boost our ratings." 

You rolled your eyes as the red light came on indicating that you would soon be on camera. You set your coffee to the side and stepped in front of the green screen. 

"Good morning, Metropolis," you said. "You can expect some light rain on your commute today. It should clear up by lunchtime though and it will be partly cloudy for the rest of the day. You watched as the map viewers saw at home shifted as you shifted the topic. "As you know, a hurricane is forming a few hundred miles off the coast. We are currently predicting landfall early next week. I will be traveling to Diamond Beach as the storm approaches to give you the most recent updates. Thanks for watching Channel 4 News, now here's Andrea with traffic."

The red light switched from you and onto Andrea's camera on the other side of the studio. You let out a sigh and walked back to your desk away from the main set. 

"You went to school with him, right?" the same writer asked, still watching Seokjin on the screen. His station gave him more screentime because he was so well loved in the city, often they pan to him coming back from commercial breaks and whenever there was a view question or poll. 

"Yeah," you said. There was only one university near Metropolis that offered a robust meteorology program and most of the city's weather people came from it. You and Seokjin had gone through together, even graduating at the same ceremony. 

"Wow, was he still so stunning in college? Like, I don't think I could've focused if he was in my classes."

"Depends on who you ask."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

5 Years Earlier

"Having trouble focusing?" you asked Seokjin as you noticed his dark eyes were no longer looking down at the computer screen. 

"Hmm, it's a bit hard when you look at the screen like that," he said, smirking and turning around to lean against the desk. "Tell me, what's a guy gotta do to get you to look at him like that?"

"Be a warm front." You watched as a warm front moved towards the city while a cold one moved simultaneously from the other direction. 

"What if I'm a hot front?" He turned to face you, his hip still leaning against the desk, but his body was close enough that it brushed yours as he moved. 

"Seokjin, stop." You clicked a few more times and turned to flip through your textbook. "It's a storm for sure. A thunderstorm or tornado. Shit, it could be anything, how are we supposed to figure this out."

"Its the weather, not heart surgery. We can be wrong fifty percent of the time and still good at our job."

"But, if we're wrong fifty percent of the time, we'll fail this class."

Jin sighed and crossed his arms as his eyes lingered down your body. "Listen, Y/N. We both know that you're going to stress about this for twenty minutes and then figure it out like you always do. Now, come on, let's take a break."

"And do what?" you asked, letting out a breath between your teeth, not tearing your eyes away from the screen.

"I don't know. I have a few ideas though" His breath was against your ear and his body heat radiated against your own. 

"Seokjin, this can't happen."

"Why not?"

"Cause I need to focus on school. I'm here on a scholarship. I can't risk distractions."

Jin sighed and looked down at the weather map on the screen. "It's a thunderstorm," he said. "The currents aren't strong enough for a tornado and based on the patterns, its the most logical." 

You quickly wrote down the answer and his reasoning, realizing that he was right. How he surmised the answer so quickly, especially when he was barely paying attention baffled you. 

"All right, now, come on," he said. "I'm taking you out for lunch and you can't deny me that. I know you're hungry."

"Fine," you said, shutting your textbooks and allowing the computer's screensaver to come on.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Just hours later that same night, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling of Jin's bedroom. Soft cotton sheets wrapped around your torso and they felt softer than even the best sheets you'd ever owned. His shirtless form was turned away from you and you resisted the urge to reach up and run a hand through his dark hair. He'd let it grow long recently, the ends of his hair beginning to grow onto his neck.

"Stop staring at me," Seokjin said, you could hear the smirk in his voice. He turned around to face you. His eyes were calm and soft like the sheets, but you couldn't help but feel the sadness. The knowing.

"How'd you know?" Your voice was small.

"I could feel it. Your eyes hurt, you know?"

You did know. You knew how much it hurt Jin to see your eyes wander down the shape of his torso. That the way you always reached to push his ill-fitting glasses up the bridge of his nose hurt. That knowing he couldn't reach out and sneak his fingertips underneath the hem of your sweater.

"I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

"It's not, Seokjin. We need to move on. Forget about each other. It's best for our futures."

"You know that's not true."

"Seokjin, we both want the same things in life. We'd be competing with each other for every job. We'd rush to get the story before the other. It wouldn't last."

"We don't know that unless we try."

"Seokjin, I don't want to give myself the chance to hate you."

You got up from the bed and buttoned your shirt, pulled on your trousers, and tied your shoes. Seokjin watched you, didn't try to stop you as you headed towards the door. Gripping the doorknob, you walked out and back down to the sidewalk below. 

Following that day, you didn't see Seokjin again. Sure, he still sat a few rows in front of you, he still presented in class, you glanced over his name in the paper when it was announced he was taking over the weather position for Channel 5. You saw him on billboards and on Reddit posts. Yet, you never met allowed your eyes to meet his again. Unless it was through the warm, freshly printed Metropolis Daily.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Nearly no one was heading east towards Diamond Beach. Westbound traffic was full of cars heading into the city to weather the storm, while eastbound only consisted of a few cars. Mostly media and others who couldn't drop everything and run from the hurricane. 

You could just make out the Channel 5 van ahead of you. Focusing down on your laptop which was tracking the conditions minute by minute, you tried not to focus on the fact you would likely run into Seokjin. 

This certainly wasn't the first time a hurricane or tropical storm caused you and Seokjin to collide like convergent fronts. Every year you found yourself at Diamond Beach trying not to watch his broadcast from a few meters down the beach.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Two Hours Later

"Hello, this Y/N Y/L/N reporting for Channel 4 news. Hurricane Roke is expected to make landfall later tonight. Most of Diamond Beach and the surrounding areas have been evacuated as Roke is currently a category four storm. I will be monitoring the storm and providing updates through Twitter throughout the night and I'll be back on the beach at 5am. This has been Y/N Y/L/N covering Hurricane Roke. Now, back to the studio."

You felt Jin's eyes on you as you gave your report. He was about two hundred feet down the beach. He wore a similar coat to your own and even with his hood pulled up you could feel the way his eyes cut through you. 

Once the red light on your camera went off, the one on Seokjin's came on and he began his report. It was nearly identical to yours, Seokjin adding his own flair and charm. Like you wished you could. 

Seokjin finished his broadcast and your filmographer began to pack up. "I'll see you bright and early in the morning?" she asked, her hair catching in the wind and obscuring her face. 

You nodded and helped her pack up the camera and other supplies, working quickly to prevent it from getting damaged from the wind or rain. Walking up the beach and back to the hotel felt like it took forever, especially with the heavy filming equipment. 

Your filmographer had already checked in earlier and headed to her room, carrying the camera and filming equipment. You kept the portable meteorological tools, already anxious to set it up in your room. Jin and his filmographer came in just as you got to the front desk. 

Giving them your name, you handed them your ID and the company credit card. The receptionist furrowed her brow and glanced up at you. 

"It looks like your room was accidentally double booked," she said. "I apologize, but due to the current situation, would you mind sharing?"

"Uh, sure, that's no problem. Who am I sharing with?"

The woman squinted at her computer. "Kim Seokjin."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

"You're not even going to look at me?" Seokjin asked as the two of you set up your computers. He'd let you have the desk while he took the counter of the kitchenette. 

"Not until I get this setup."

Seokjin sighed and pulled out his phone. Service was already finicky, but he managed to pull up Spotify and got music to play. It was soft, as not to disturb your neighbors in the packed hotel. 

You smiled as you heard the familiar tune "Dancing Queen". Jin was a fan of older music and the two of you used to listen to ABBA's Greatest Hits when studying together. 

"You still listen to this?"

"Of course," he said. "It makes me happy."

It made you happy too and when you finished setting up your computer you peaked out the window. The storm was still a couple of hours from landfall, but the trees were already swaying wildly. 

"It's going to be a big one," Jin said, glancing at you and catching your eye. It was the first time you'd truly looked at each other since the day you'd left him on his own. It felt like a lightning bolt skewered you in half. 

"Yeah," you said, sitting down on the bed. "It is."

You traced the seams of the comforter with your index finger. The song switched and this time it was "Can't Help Falling In Love With You". 

Jin finished setting up his computer. Your screen and his looked nearly identical showing a map of the coastline and the storm approaching. He sat down beside you, closer than you would've thought an acquaintance would sit. 

"We should go to bed. Early start tomorrow." His voice commanded you to look at him. "Let's not fight over the bed." Placing down the two extra pillows down the center of the bed, he went to the bathroom to change.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

The storm was in full force when you made your way outside. The four of you: you, Jin, and your two filmographers tried to get onto the beach, but the sand cut your skin. Various debris already littered the beach. Mostly seaweed and tree branches, although you noticed a few shoes and patio furniture from the nearby condos.

"The hotel said we could report from outside," you said. "It'd be safer."

Jin chewed on his cheek and glanced out at the beach. The two filmographers began to set up their cameras and you did you best to ensure your hair didn't fall into your face. You stood away from the wind, finding it hard to breath with it blowing onto your face. 

"Seokjin! Stop!" His filmographer yelled, abandoning his equipment, he rushed towards the other man. You turned to see that Seokjin had taken off towards the beach, seemingly want to report from there no matter the circumstances. 

You looked over at your coworker and she gave you a curt nod, ensuring that she would watch over the equipment. She dragged both cameras inside the lobby one at a time. Giving her an empathetic look, you took off running towards the beach, hoping to catch up with Seokjin before he got entirely soaked. 

When you came to the edge of the beach, you saw that Seokjin was already halfway out, his filmographer not far behind. You sighed and continued out, knowing he was determined to give the report from as close to the middle of the storm as he could.

The filmographer neared the middle of the beach, fearing going any further. When you caught up to him, you stopped to catch your breath, even though it was nearly impossible with the wind. Your breath was swept away as soon as you drew it in. 

"He's crazy," the other man said. "I have no idea why he's doing this." 

"He always has to go the extra mile," you said, rolling your eyes. "Even if it's stupid and dangerous."

Seokjin turned back to look for his camera operator, only to see him halted halfway up the beach. Seokjin was three-quarters of the way up the beach now, reaching dangerously close to the rough tide. He noticed you still running towards him and smiled before a gust of wind knocked him off his feet.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤

Your chest constricted when you saw Jin get thrown off his feet. He landed a few feet away in the sand. You ran as quickly as you could, falling to your knees beside him. 

"Are you okay?" you asked, looking him over. 

His eyes looked up at you, obviously taking in your features. Yet, his lips said nothing. 

"You crazy bastard! What the hell were you thinking? Rushing out here like that? You of all people should know how dangerous that is." You could barely catch your breath between words as you placed your hands on his arms to help him sit up. He didn't budge, however, his eyes just locked on your face. 

"What are you doing?" you asked, sighing and dropping your hands from his hands, looking down to meet his eyes for the first time.

He smiled when you finally met his eyes and leaned up to connect his lips to yours. It was brief due to the circumstances, but it felt like lightning coursing through your veins. 

"I ran cause I knew you would chase me."

[ckentdaily]

Welcome to the World

“Gosh, I’m awful sorry,” Clark coughed, after inhaling half of the finishing powder that the makeup artist, Alice, just applied. Alice was nice. Alice only asked him questions about Bruce Wayne and whether or not the little husky mix he adopted was as cute as she seemed in the photos. After Clark had reassured her that, yes, Ace was adorable and Bruce was spoiling her, he shook her hand with both of his and thanked her twice.

The dressing room was silent again. He stood up and stretched his legs, after prying the narrow wooden chair from his hips. No one on set had expected him to be this big, which resulted in some last minute seating changes... but only once he was in front of the camera. A little discomfort now was fine. He just didn’t want to be remembered backstage for breaking a chair.

“Ok, Clark. Let’s decide who you’re gonna be today.” He squinted at himself in the mirror, not liking how the powder obscured the pores in his face. He leaned against the vanity and scrunched up his nose, then rolled his shoulders back. With his tie tucked and a confident smile, he stared at his reflection. One hand in his pocket. Feet shoulder width apart.

Too much like Superman.

He rolled his shoulders forward, higher by his ears, and let his weight shift to the right. He hunched forward and made sure his glasses were high on the bridge of his nose, with the black rim obscuring the space between his eyelids and brow. The lens were thick enough that his eyelashes would barely be seen, much less noticed.

Too much like Clark. Old Clark.

The Clark that hid from opportunities like these, and only scraped by in job interviews, scuttling through parties along the back wall until he faded into the background.

Clark didn’t want to be that Clark today. He didn’t want to be that Clark ever again if it meant he couldn’t be effective.

He straightened up, and took his hand out of his pocket, but he smiled again. Just a disarming, shy one, but enough that he didn’t look like he was prepared to jump out of his skin at any moment.

Better.

He buttoned his blazer and opened the door, just as he heard one of the crew telling Brandon, from sound, to grab the guest and bring him out.

“Showtime, huh?”

--

“If you’re just joining us, I’m Chuck Wilton, and as the Ukraine scandal unfolds, WGBS is bringing you an exclusive interview with the journalist, Clark Kent, who broke the story. Welcome Clark.” The introduction rolled off the older, gaunt looking man’s tongue with a practiced ease. Chuck appeared on millions of screens across Metropolis and the country for more than a decade. He was a familiar, no nonsense face in American homes.

And he was still too conservative for Clark’s liking. He could respect the man’s commitment to his work while disagreeing with his personal politics. Clark couldn’t relax entirely, even as he shook Chuck’s hand and sat down in the appropriately sized swivel chair, on his side of the desk. He knew not to close his eyes when the pitcher’s planning a curveball. Clark just didn’t know when it would come.

“Thanks for havin’ me, Chuck. I’m glad to be here,” Clark kept the drawl in his voice, as he let the button loose and set down his typed notes in front of him.

Chuck first asked about Clark’s conversations with Ambassador William Taylor, envoy to Ukraine, who returned stateside to testify in front of Congress about the President’s international transgressions. Clark answered calmly, laying out the timeline of the President withholding national aid to force another government to investigate his political opponents.

“That’s correct. President Trump asked for Kiev to investigate former Vice President Biden and would not release security aid until this was done. Requesting that a foreign government conduct a politically motivated investigation with the promise of something in return is not only illegal, but it’s not how the United States conducts foreign affairs.”

“And this single phone call, that we don’t have access to the transcript for, is enough for Speaker Pelosi to file the articles of impeachment? The testimony of a single civil servant has launched these closed door hearings in the SCIF?”

“Not just any civil servant, Chuck. Mr. Taylor is a decorated veteran who has served in nonpartisan roles under both Democratic and Republican administrations since 1985. He worked for the Department of Energy and NATO, ‘fore he began working internationally for the State Department.” Clark pushed back, still smiling, but dropping his hands to his lap to keep from gesturing as he spoke. “I think that in the coming days, you’ll see more and more folks comin’ forward, but this is on top of the previous and documented abuses of power by this administration since 2016.”

“Pelosi has hemmed and hawwed about keeping the scope narrow. If this is the event that finally lights the spark of impeachment, why couch it in the context of those other allegations? Isn’t the public ready to move on from the spectacle of the Speaker grasping at straws?” Chuck fixed Clark with a look over his glasses.

“I think that the latest Pew polls showing public support for a removal of the President from office answers that question better than either of us could. I think it can be argued that it may not have been politically viable to move to impeachment before now, ‘specially in light of the GOP’s shameful display yesterday in the SCIF.”

“Don’t they have the right to protest peacefully, as any other American group?”

Clark’s smile grew tight. “They’d have that right if it was an actual protest, but you’ve got to call it like it is, Chuck. They committed a federal crime. The two dozen or so elected officials barged into the SCIF, brought their cellphones in with them and tweeted from inside. The SCIF is a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. These rooms are designed to handle sensitive materials while matters of national security’re bein’ discussed.”

“They weren’t protesting, Mr. Wilton,” Clark took a deep breath, “They were obstructing justice and protesting the very rules they put into place durin’ the era of the filibuster, under President Obama. Electronics weren’t supposed to be in that room, because of the high risk of compromise by foreign agencies. Representative Gaetz knows that."

Chuck hummed unhappily, “Even if they simply wanted to be in the room during the hearing? Isn’t that a reasonable request?”

“If they were one of the Republicans on the congressional Intelligence committees that were supposed to be there? Certainly. But the fact is that those representatives-- from both parties, I might add-- were already in the room. Closed-door testimonies were standard practice durin’ the impeachment inquiries into former Presidents Clinton and Nixon.” Clark worked his jaw and continued. “Just because our current President might act like he’s above the law, doesn’t mean that his party should feel entitled to do the same.”

“I see. It says here that you’ve been at the Planet for two years?” Chuck opted to pivot, leaning back in his chair.

“Yessir, two years this December.” Clark clasped his hand in front of him, on top of the desk. His smile brightened again.

“Where have they been hiding you? Welcome to the world, Mr. Kent.”

“Aha, thank you, Chuck,” Clark laughed nervously.

“Why haven’t we heard from you before? It says here that this is the first time you’ve written on national politics for them. The last time your name was in the news, you were the news. A puff piece from a gossip columnist in Gotham about your current relationship.”

“I’m grateful to my editor, Perry White, for giving me the opportunity to inform the American people about what’s happening on Capitol Hill. I think that they want to hear more about if our Congress is going to impeach a sitting president in an election year, than they do about my personal life.” Clark glanced away and then forced himself to meet Chuck’s gaze again. Old Clark wouldn’t be allowed to finish this interview. “Wouldn’t you agree, Chuck?”

“I would.” Chuck smiled for the first time. His teeth were straight, but yellowed. “But they would also like to know if they’re receiving their news from a reliable source. What would you say to those that might think you’re just trying to keep your name in the papers?”

“The Daily Planet prides itself on integrity. That’s been true since the paper was founded. I think that this story could have been written by any of its reporters. My answer to those folks would be simple, Chuck: the article speaks for itself. Our investigative team has complied page by page summaries of the ambassador’s testimony, cross-referenced with additional witnesses since the probe began.”

Clark paused and turned away from Chuck to stare directly at the camera.

“Stories like this aren’t meant to catapult any one person into stardom or notoriety, they’re meant to keep hard-working Americans abreast of the issues that will have profound impacts on their lives. Make no mistake, Chuck, the American people have asked for the president to be held to the same standards as any other citizen. They have a right to know that some of the men and women that they voted into office aren’t only talkin’ the talk, they’re walkin’ the walk, and they’re ready to check the Executive Branch.”

“Powerful words from a new face. I’d like to thank today’s guest, Clark Kent, from The Daily Planet. I’m sure this won’t be the last we’ll see of him.” Chuck gestured to Clark, who nodded and waved, and then a relieved looking woman with a clipboard and a large headset gave the cue to cut to commercial.

[lavendersb]

Flowers Like You

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: The reader has been in love with Arthur for the longest time, but has been to afraid to say it. Then everything changes. This was the story for the “Flowers” option on my last poll! See the end for an authors note.

Lavender had never meant much to you.

It was a pretty flower, one you had passed on forest trails and sprawling fields. One that dotted green pastures and soothed people to sleep when nothing else would.

If it had to mean anything to you, it would mean absolution.

Which was exactly how you felt about it now. Only there was so much more.

Purple petals painted your clothes with the remnants of the rain from this morning as the heads of lavender sprigs brushed past you. Fondly you broke a head from its stalk, acknowledging it in your hand, feeling the rain pass onto your hand, but you didn’t look at it. You didn’t need to, you had seen so much of it recently. You doubted you would ever forget what those flowers looked like.

You remembered the first time lavender held any new meaning for you.

It was an afternoon in spring, at a camp that sat high above the rest of the world. You had words diligently all morning, so you could enjoy the first truly sunny day any of you in the gang had seen for a long while.

Sneaking away from the camp you had taken your cigarettes and fled to a secluded area where you knew a rock you could relax on.

When you found it occupied, you could hardly complain.

It was Arthur, hunched over slightly and sat against the rock. He hadn’t noticed you, and for a moment you were scared to make your presence known. You paused for a moment as he worked away at his journal, you watched as he stroked the pencil to page with long broad motions and watched whenever he rotated the journal a little and continued.

Eventually you walked forwards, announcing yourself cheerfully.

“What’re you drawing?”

Arthur bristled a little, shuffling where he sat and pulled his journal defensively towards him.

“It ain’t nothing-“

“I saw you. You’re definitely drawing somethin’. No point pretending” You interjected, smiling as he let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, alright.” He rubbed his neck “but it still ain’t much”

He was so gentle for a man of his appearance and lifestyle, you thought, as his hair dropped over his downturned eyes.

“Still, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to see” you offered softly.  

After a second of deliberation, Arthur offered the leather book up to you. The page it was open on was covered in a wonderful pencil drawing of a field, filled with flowers.

“It’s a lavender field I passed when I was riding yesterday, didn’t have time to draw it then” He comments.

“It’s gorgeous” you say, lightly touching the paper with your fingertips.

“Really,” you add when Arthur laughs to himself.

“Just don’t go off that page” he adds with a laugh, its not a joke though, so you listen.

“Course, you wouldn’t want me finding out who you’re sweet on or somethin” you tease, passing the book back to him. He takes it, shutting it and resting it on his lap, his fingers gently tracing circles on the leather cover. His head is lowered, eyes obscured by the rim of his hat.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t” Arthur murmurs softly.

Something in your chest pulls, and you almost swear you can smell those flowers. 

 A few months later on the wagon trail, venturing through mountain paths and fields. That’s where you remember lavender the strongest.

“Over there,” Arthur called back to you, pointing off to the side “that’s those fields I mentioned”

From your spot in the back of the wagon you turn to face where he’s pointing.

Peeking out from behind the trees is a sea of bright purple, nestled within green grass and practically glowing in the midday light.

“It’s just like your drawing” you say.

Arthur drops his head down and smiles, before gesturing for you to come closer. You slide over to him, resting your elbow on the back of his seat.

“I saw this group of horses when I was there. Beautiful things they were. Big and powerful looking,” He tells you, and the look on his face as he recalls his encounter makes your chest feel warm and full.

“You should head back there some day. See if you can catch one” Charles offers from next to Arthur as he collects the reigns of the wagon “If they’re as powerful as you say they are”

“If they’re as powerful as he says then Arthur could end up trampled to death!” you laugh, giving Arthur’s arm a squeeze. The men laugh a little in response.

“Yeah, after all this that would really be a way to go wouldn’t it” Arthur says with an infectious grin.

“I can see the headlines already ‘Wanted outlaw Arthur Morgan trampled to death by field pony’ ” Charles adds, sending both you and Arthur into a fit of laughter.

“Does have an interesting ring to it, doesn’t it” you say.

“I don’t want anybody but Charles to write my obituary y’hear?” Arthur says, wagging a finger at you, to which Charles laughs.

“Sure, Arthur” you smile, and he gives you a gentle one in return. He takes a shallow sigh before he speaks.

“I’m in good hands with you two,” 

 When the blood first came you had so many questions.

What you once thought was a persistent cold turned worse quite quickly. The taste of metal in your mouth whenever you coughed too hard was something you decided to keep to yourself. The coughs were infrequent. Nothing to worry people about.

Eventually you knew you needed to find those answers, and so riding to town under the guise of a supply run you prepared yourself for your fate.

The doctor himself couldn’t quite be sure. He had told you it was too early to make a sure diagnosis.

“Can’t you give me some sort of an idea?” you pushed, as the doctor wrote something down hastily.

“I wouldn’t want to distress you,” He says, and you shoot him a dry look.

The doctor puts his pencil down and fixes you with a stare.

“Well it could very well just be tuberculosis” he says.

“Just?” you ask.

The Doctor doesn’t respond straight away, instead he gives you a pained look.

“No,” you warn, sitting forward in your chair “I know that’s not possible”

“It might not be that, but I suggest you at least… observe your relationships. However one-sided they might seem”

 Your unnamed condition affected you in so many ways, you unintentionally distanced yourself from the others at camp, worried what they might think. The thought of them pitying you for your illness urged you away from them.

Still, despite all this, you strongly denied what the doctor had insinuated. How could you suffer like that without a clear cause? 

 But that first evening, a few month later, where you coughed and choked so violently, you had to flee to the edges of camp proved you wrong. Shaking fingers slipped down into your throat, and gagging, you pulled the long thin flower from your mouth. You held it in your hands, whole body shaking and heaving with gasps.

And laughed.

Laughed because the flower in your palm, despite being covered in blood and saliva was clearly a sprig of lavender.

You laughed, because of course it was.

 They weren’t always as bad as that first one. Usually you could hide the little bristles of purple within a handkerchief and discard of them later. Yet in a gang as close as this, nothing can be kept a secret for long.

“Can we talk?” Arthur had asked one day, gesturing to his tent.

And you did. You spoke, and you listened. You listened when Arthur told you he had tuberculosis, just as the camp suspected you did also. You simply nodded in response.

“We aren’t so different, you and I” He had said as you left the tent “not now at least”

You paused on your way out, swallowing the words that threatened to leave you.

“Sure. The same” 

 That night you had seen Arthur, sat in the lamplight of his tent. Propped up against the side of the ammunitions wagon, in his hands he held that pretty photograph of a lady he kept with him. You winced as you swallowed, your throat scraped raw and felt your chest constrict.

It’s a foolish thing to fall in love with a friend.

 You had heard it said that this disease choked people to death. The silky flower petals and thick blooming buds coated and clogged the airways until the bearer had no choice but to die. You doubted that would be the case for you. Each time you pulled another sprig of lavender from your mouth you had to fight back tears. These flowers would shred you from the inside out much sooner than they would choke you to death.

 You rode back to the doctor, asked him what could be done. If anything could be done.

“I’m afraid not,” he had said, observing the purple flower that you had hacked up not moments before. Swallowing, you prepared yourself to talk again.

“What happens now then?”

The doctor moved the bowl that contained the lavender from your view.

“I hope you forgive me for being blunt,” he said “but now, I urge you to get your affairs in order, and try to make yourself comfortable”

To that you let out a harsh laugh, your painful throat punishing you for it.

“Perhaps tell the gentleman in question. It might ease your mind” he adds.

“If I tell him will-“

“-No,” the doctor interjects firmly “It will not go away.”

You sink back against the chair. You felt lost. Without purpose. You hear the Doctor rotate the bowl of blood and flowers, observing it before he speaks.

“It’s far too serious now for him to ever love you back” 

 To breathe was a laborious task. To eat was torture, and to speak was out of the question.  As your body thinned, so did the gang. Friends left and died, and still they had been none the wiser to the nature of your condition.

You had stopped sleeping in the camp. Offering to take up guard duty at every opportunity, resting against the trunks of trees with your gun alone with your thoughts. And your flowers.

Arthur had joined you once. Coming to sit down next to you in the darkness.

“Night is always the worst isn’t it,” he says, and he’s right. Lying down makes your chest feel impossibly heavy, and often times you find yourself scared that if you go to sleep now, you won’t wake up come morning. Worried they’d find you with a particularly large cluster of lavender in your throat that you weren’t awake to hook out in time. Worried they’d find you as blue as the flowers that festered in your lungs.

“Yes,” you rasped, not wanting to say much more through the pain.

The silence grew heavy, and tentatively Arthur pulled you to his side. You let him move you, holding your head to his chest.

“But we got each other, don’t we” he says, and it burns. The words burn your eyes and your mouth and your lungs. You allow yourself to let go, crying softly from where you are. Part of you wants to tell him. You want to yell at him, tell him what he’s done to you and how he’s killing you. But you can’t, because part of you dreams that if you tell him of your condition, he will hold you even tighter, tell you he’s always loved you and that this has all been a big misunderstanding. You find yourself dreaming, not for the first time that Arthur will make it stop. Make the pain go away.

But you don’t say a thing. That heavy feeling in your chest stays, pulls and pulls until you have to rip yourself from Arthur’s arms, turning away from him and hunching over. Coughing and gagging as your lungs try to rip themselves from your chest, Arthur rushes to you, resting a hand on your back. This hand doesn’t burn, it feels like your flesh is being seared off.

“Go away Arthur” you warn quietly.

He doesn’t move, instead pressing a little harder on your back.

“(Y/N) I-“

“Go away Arthur!” You yell, as violently as you can. Your outburst works, Arthur stills and backs away from you and you refuse to watch as he walks away.

Instead, you repeat the process you’ve become so familiar with, dipping your fingers into your mouth and pulling. From the back of your throat you pull the longest sprig of lavender yet. It’s a tall cluster of three stems complete with roots and looks like you could have ripped it from the earth. All that’s missing is the soil. 

 Beavers Hollow would be your graveyard, you concluded. You would inevitably starve yourself to death or collapse on the edge of camp. When the rest of the gang moved on to their next hiding spot, you would not follow and so that is why you left the next morning.

Riding out of camp with nothing but the clothes on your back, you knew exactly where you needed to be. Despite the burning pain in your chest, despite needing to stop often, you rode fast and long until you reached the place you needed to be.

Arthur’s flower field.

Once you were close enough, you dismounted your horse. Not bothering to hitch her anywhere, instead choosing to remove her saddle entirely, you said a little goodbye and left for the field.

The lavender sat a grim shade of purple under the grey sky, they moved violently in the wind, yet the weather was the last thing that scared you. It was the flowers. They beckoned you towards their ocean of blossoms and you followed. You were done fighting them.

And now, with the flowers soaking your clothes in old rain, you wandered. Oddly calm given your condition, but with no purpose. A part of you was expecting you to just stop. Stop living, in the middle of the field.

But you don’t, and slowly you wander through the flowers until you come across a small lake. So small and shallow it could almost be a pond. Settling down by the shore you took a deep breath. The scent of lavender from around and inside you was sickly, thick and suffocating, weighing on your already weak lungs.

In the water you could see the reflection of the setting sun, and you smiled. You were tired. So tired, and you hadn’t slept in so long. Sinking lower, you lay yourself down on the bank of the water and turn onto your back. Your lungs groaned in protest, threatening to give in at any moment, but you didn’t care.

From where you were, you could see the darkening sky and the heads of lavender that swayed into your vision. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you thought of him. Thought of Arthur when he first saw this field. That moment that you hadn’t even been witness to, but changed your life forever. And ended it as well.

And calmly, but not without fear, you let yourself fall asleep.

A/N: WHOOPS I WROTE ANGST. For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, this is essentially a hanahaki disease au, it’s an au were people can contract this disease that causes them to cough up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love and is often fatal. Seemed very fitting for a certain cowboy...

Also: @morstin Julia i’m so sorry I had to do this to you.... but you picked flowers!!!! not me!!!!

[vvvveta]

WHO LOST AFGHANISTAN?

IN THE IMMEDIATE aftermath of 9/11, Americans were braying for war. A CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll found that 90 percent of Americans approved of the United States attacking Afghanistan, while 65 percent of the public was comfortable with the prospect of Afghan civilians being killed. Only 22 percent thought that the war would last more than two years.

Americans wanted blood, and they got it. The United States invaded Afghanistan and spent the next 20 years making war there and beyond: in Burkina Faso; Cameroon; Iraq; Libya; Niger; the Philippines; Somalia; Syria; Tunisia; and Yemen, among other places. More than 770,000 people have since died violent deaths in America’s wars and interventions, including more than 312,000 civilians, according to Brown University’s Costs of War Project.

Of the 10 percent of Americans who thought that war was not the answer, a small number demonstrated against the impending conflict. They marched in Austin, Texas; New York City; San Francisco; Washington, D.C.; and elsewhere. It took courage to speak out against “indiscriminate retribution,” to assert that it was ludicrous to attack a country for a crime carried out by a small group of terrorists, and to suggest that the repercussions might echo for decades. They were mocked, screamed at, called scum and traitors, and worse.

Those who got it right in September 2001 have long since been forgotten. The White House, the Pentagon, and the media never sought the dissenters out for advice, comment, or counsel as the war in Afghanistan went off the rails, ending with the chaotic collapse of the U.S.-backed Afghan government on Sunday. Instead, those who got it wrong have consistently held sway in the halls of power. “This did unfold more quickly than we had anticipated,” President Joe Biden, who voted for military action in 2001, admitted yesterday. “[Former Afghan President Ashraf] Ghani insisted the Afghan forces would fight, but obviously he was wrong.” Ghani was hardly alone. Biden and countless other Americans played key roles in a 20-year road to defeat that began with the United States toppling the Taliban from power in 2001 and ended with the Taliban installing themselves in the presidential palace in Afghanistan’s capital, Kabul, this week.

Journalist Craig Whitlock’s new book, “The Afghanistan Papers: A Secret History of the War,” will help ensure that no one forgets the harm America’s civilian and military leaders did, the lies they told, and the war they lost.

Synthesizing more than 1,000 interviews and 10,000 pages of documents, Whitlock provides a stunning study of failure and mendacity, an irrefutable account of the U.S.’s ignoble defeat in the words of those who — from the battlefield to NATO headquarters in Kabul and from the Pentagon to the White House — got it so wrong for so long, papered their failures over with falsehoods, and sought to avoid even an ounce of accountability.

“People often ask me, ‘How long will this last?’” President George W. Bush said on October 11, 2001, a few days after the United States started bombing Afghanistan. “This particular battlefront will last as long as it takes to bring Al Qaeda to justice. It may happen tomorrow, it may happen a month from now, it may take a year or two. But we will prevail.”

More than a decade later, the U.S. still hadn’t won the war, and an obscure government agency, the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction, or SIGAR, sought to figure out why. The result was more than 400 “Lessons Learned” interviews conducted with mostly American (but also Afghan and NATO) officials as well as other experts, aid workers, and consultants. Their assessments were candid, often damning, and the government sought to keep them under wraps.

But the indefatigable Whitlock and his employer, the Washington Post, via two Freedom of Information Act lawsuits, forced the government to turn over the files. These records became the foundation of an award-winning series for the Post; now, combined with several troves of documents from various public collections, these files make “The Afghanistan Papers” the most comprehensive American accounting of the conflict and help explain, better than any book yet, why so many of those who planned, guided, and fought the war failed so spectacularly.

Deftly assembling accounts thematically and chronologically, Whitlock allows America’s war managers to hang themselves with their own quotes, offering an encyclopedic catalogue of lies and ineptitude, delusion and denial, incompetence and corruption, and, most of all, rank cowardice. Again and again, Whitlock presents the pessimistic assessments and harsh judgments of officials who believed that their remarks would never become public — war makers who could have spoken out publicly but too often kept their appraisals under wraps or voiced them when it was too late to matter.

“We didn’t have the foggiest notion of what we were undertaking,” recalled Army Lt. Gen. Douglas Lute, the White House war czar under Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama.

“We did not know what we were doing,” said Richard Boucher, the Bush administration’s top diplomat for South and Central Asia.

“There was a tremendous … dysfunctionality in unity of command inside of Afghanistan, inside the military,” recalled Army Lt. Gen. David Barno, an early Afghanistan War commander.

“There was no campaign plan,” confessed Army Gen. Dan McNeill, who twice served as the top commander in Afghanistan under Bush. “I tried to get someone to define for me what winning meant, even before I went over, and nobody could.”

These and hundreds of other officials, military officers, diplomats, and analysts could have leveled with the American people immediately or at any time in the last 20 years. Had they done so, perhaps the war in Afghanistan could have been shortened by a decade or more; perhaps following conflicts wouldn’t have been so easy to start or proved so difficult to end; perhaps more than 770,000 people wouldn’t be dead and up to 59 million forced from their homes by America’s post-9/11 wars.

Instead, Americans muddled through the conflict in Afghanistan, unsure what they were there to accomplish, why they were doing it, who they were fighting, and what they were fighting for. “What were we actually doing in that country?” asked a U.S. official who served with the NATO senior civilian representative to Afghanistan. “We went in after 9/11 to defeat Al Qaeda in Afghanistan, but the mission became blurred.”

To call it confusion is the kindest possible assessment. Another is that, as Whitlock writes, the government was peddling pablum “so unwarranted and baseless that their statements amounted to a disinformation campaign.”

WHITLOCK DOES A masterful job of mining the hard-won SIGAR synopses and archived interviews to juxtapose private judgments with public comments. Bush’s first secretary of defense, Donald Rumsfeld, recently died of multiple myeloma, but Whitlock ably demonstrates that shame ought to have taken him years earlier. Of all the craven war managers who take their star turn in “The Afghanistan Papers,” Rumsfeld may come off worst. “I have no visibility into who the bad guys are,” the late defense secretary wrote in an internal memo almost two years into the war. “We are woefully deficient in human intelligence.”

Rumsfeld never shared his pessimism with the American public. Instead, for years, he took the press to task for pushback while publicly crowing about signs of progress and corners turned. In 2003, Rumsfeld announced that the Taliban was finished. “To the extent that they assemble in anything more than ones and twos … they’ll be killed or captured,” he boasted. If there’s any justice, Rumsfeld is currently being grilled in the afterlife about whether it’s one or two Taliban fighters who are now overrunning cities and districts across Afghanistan.

So much in “The Afghanistan Papers” reads like an unsettling echo of the American war in Vietnam. During that conflict, the South Vietnamese military that was built, trained, armed, and funded by Americans was regularly (and not always unfairly) disparaged for its cowardice and incompetence. In the end, U.S. officials couldn’t understand how a 1 million-person army with billions of dollars’ worth of American weapons and equipment collapsed in 1975. In “The Afghanistan Papers,” Americans similarly disparage the Afghan military they built or make excuses for its weakness and ineptitude. How could the U.S. be at fault when its Afghan charges couldn’t read, write, or identify colors; mistook urinals for drinking fountains; couldn’t learn basic tactics or manage to shoot straight; and were both lazy and corrupt? Left unexamined is just why a rag-tag, under-armed, underfunded insurgency drawn from the same population, without an air force or superpower backing, was able to exist, much less make consistent progress, over 20 years, ending with a blitzkrieg that took one major city after another, including Kabul, in a matter of days.

Opium is another key overlap. During the Vietnam War, as heroin use among U.S. troops soared, Air America, a company run by the CIA, transported opium harvested by farmers in Laos who were also serving as soldiers in the agency’s secret army. Following its defeat in Southeast Asia, the United States sought to entangle the Soviet Union in its own “Vietnam” in Afghanistan, where, as the New York Times reported, “opium production flourished … with the involvement of some of the mujahedeen, rebels who were supported by the Central Intelligence Agency.” By the time Americans were fighting against some of those same mujahideen and their sons in the 2000s, the United States had turned against drug production and devoted billions to eradicating poppies, but Afghanistan nonetheless became the world’s top narco-state.

[tree-evan]

suburbs. // reddie

Richie sits beside you, curls barely grazing his shoulders, eyelids drooping against the dark road ahead, like he’s losing a battle with his consciousness. You entertain the idea of letting him sleep- God, he looks so tired, and he still has to drive you and himself home- but you can’t drive. Not with your batshit crazy mother still gripping your shoulder like you’re a mouse to devour. Your fingers shoot out to jab his arm, and even though it hits harder than you meant it to he merely glances at you, eyes widening. You ignore the dilation of pupils. It’s just a myth, anyways.

“What’s up, spagheds?” The way he speaks sounds like he’s trying so hard to keep up, but his body is just falling away. You shuffle against the back of your seat.

“Don’t fall asleep, Rich. We’ll crash and die.”

“Gee, wouldn’t wanna do that before our first kiss, huh, Edd-o?”

You don’t even bother making a face, just cock your head to the side to peer out at the dark, looming trees, illuminated only by Richie’s old truck’s single working headlight. Mike is supposed to help you repair that soon, since there’s no way you’re going into Derry’s junkyard to find a new one yourself, and Richie can’t be bothered. The way the branches bleed into the sky reminds you of a foreboding smile, and you grimace. Were you always this pessimistic? Or did a ten-foot tall, pale clown turn you this way?

You’re jerked away from existential dread by the radio cutting in, loud static filling the car, and Richie shakes his head and apologizes. “Guess I was blasting a station…” he mutters to himself, swapping stations. “There’s no good ones, y’know that, Eddie? Everything’s shit. No one knows how to run the radio!”

You shrug.

He turns back to the road, which has begun to wind, and you’re thankful for his intuition- or maybe he’s just been this way too many times. Frankly, you’ve only been cursed to ride through it twice with your mother, who was filled with inexplicable road rage the entire way both times. Richie, however, makes the turns with ease, and it brings you back to the way people always commented on how he’d probably drive later in life, ‘if he ever passed the test at all’. Richie is the best driver you know.

“Eddie. Pull open my CD case?”

Your thumb pulls at the glove compartment, and you struggle for a second as you always do. It’s always jammed. When you drag the black case out, he instructs you on page numbers and weird codes. His CDs are an odd combination of the popular and obscure, littered together despite his claims that he’s organized it particularly. He probably only says that so you or Stan don’t  organize it for him. On the fourth flip, without looking, he says, “that’s it”, and you slip it in the slot without much mind.

The catchy song from a year ago, run down by its popularity polling that lead to it being played on every station for months, stutters from the speakers.

“What? What’s this?” You turn in your seat to face him. “Didn’t you say you hated this song? It was too ‘mainstream’ or something?”

He nods, a smirk pulling at the edge of his lip. “Yeah, but it’s not mainstream anymore.”

“You’re such a fuckboy.”

He cackles, clearly waking up some more, and presses his pointer finger against the radio, finding the skip button with some difficulty. A tense love song with a thick, low beat makes the car bounce a bit, even though its not loud at all.

“I love this song.”

His long fingers return to the wheel to drum against it to the beat, and you fight the urge to smile. You can’t help but watch the way he moves, the way his mouth curls upwards, his chipped nails, his long lashes. You have to force yourself to look away, and you hope he didn’t notice. If he did, he’s kind enough to not say a thing.

The both of you settle back into what’s mostly comfortable silence, other than the shuffling tracklist. Richie skips back to the song at least five times within the hour he drives you home, and by the third, you squint at him. “We’ve heard this one three times.”

“Twice. Don’t be so skeptical.”

“I’m not.”

“Do you not like it?”

You’re cut off by a sudden urge to look at him, and he’s looking back at you. His eyes are dark and unreadable, and the music seems to run up the goosebumps on your arms (“and I like you, I like you, I like you”) until you must turn beet red and quietly respond, “no, I do.”

You swear you see a blush settling on Richie’s cheeks too before he turns back and his knobbly shoulder gets in the way. “I knew you had good music taste, Eds,” he says, his voice wavering a little too much. You smile. You only got into music because of him, after all, with his walkerman that he always kept in his jacket pockets. A witty comeback settles on the edge of your tongue and stalls until it’s too late, and the moment’s gone. Your eyes fall to your lap. You clutch the cold bottle of orange juice tighter.

Richie wakes you up with a gentle nudge against your shoulder, whispering, “Eddie, wake up, we’re here.” You groan against the need to wake up, sleepy haze engulfing you, and you think for a few minutes that you can fall back into it safely, Richie giving in. But he shakes you again, and chuckles when you whine.

“I don’t want to go in,” you slur, and he’s soft as your eyes creak in.

“C’mon, you gotta. You know how Sonia gets when I don’t return our dear, sweet little boy in a minimum setting of one piece.”

“Let me go home with you.”

He falters, his hand still on your shoulder, and it slides into yours. You can hear his breath become shallower in his throat, and in that moment you really come to, eyes blinking widely up at him. You’re only vaguely aware of the situation- of what you just asked. It’s not an abnormal request, after all, but you flush at the way he’s looking at you. Your heart labels it “longingly” even when you beg it not to.

He wants to kiss you.

You think this as you squeeze his hand in yours.

He’s going to kiss you.

You think this as you mutter, thanks, Richie.

He loves you.

You think this as you swing the car door open and jog to your front door, slamming it closed behind you.

[promisedangel]

PredatorShift- Chapter 22

First

Previous

Final

The end of this story is nigh. But with it, I will return to the Fresh Meat timeline for a spin-off and a sequel! You all have two weeks to cast your vote in the Story Details Poll if you have not done so!

Chapter 22- Of Crushing and Convincing

Frisk and Gaster returned to the rooftops of New Home in an instant. Frisk clearly heard the monsters below. Some were confused on the sight of their king thrown into a wall. Others fled New Home with what little energy they could spare. Frisk used one of the disembodied hands and floated it over the rooftop to see the panic below. They nearly gasped. The main streets were packed with the fleeing monsters and those who stood confused yet captivated by the event.

Gaster’s inner voice commanded Frisk’s attention, ‘He’s recovered.’ Frisk turned their attention away from the citizens. Their now numerous eyes all focused on one thing. The mad king.

From the center of a hole in the side of a building, Sans emerged from the rubble. He stood on all fours and seemed to slowly grow in size. His gaze turned to Gaster and Frisk. What was once an abyssal eye socket became another glowing eye. This one yellow, but it did not ignite akin to a flame. It simply glowed, even as its blue twin began to grow into a roaring inferno in comparison. Gaster kept his guard up. His tail curled inwards, ready to strike or allow movement.

Sans disappeared in an instant. Gaster teleported to another building the second he saw Sans disappear. In the spot where Gaster once stood, Sans’s maw chomped deep into the stonework. Sans grumbled and spit out the rocks off the side of the building. The rocks descended to the crowd below. Frisk did not have time to check if anyone had been injured. Before they could check, Sans had teleported to them and swung his claws at them. Frisk and Gaster both reacted and summoned a barrier. It easily defended against Sans’s claws. Gaster and Frisk didn’t even have to stand their ground much to keep the barrier up. Sans roared and teleported to the side to avoid the barrier. Gaster easily moved it before Sans could attack. Gaster smirked and used three of the disembodied hands to fire beams rapidly. Sans dodged the beams defensively, which drew him away from the barrier. Gaster lowered the barrier and smirked, ‘We are more powerful than him. We can defeat him!’ Frisk felt a new sense of determination well from within their shared soul. At first, it overwhelmed Frisk. They struggled to keep control of their half of the soul for a moment. The determination then focused on the task at hand.

While Frisk was distracted, Gaster focused and began to control three disembodied hands. He continued to have them fire and slowly move them towards each other. The beams began to combine and spiral out slightly for a wider spiral beam. Sans was hit with these beams and let out a cry of pain. He teleported away into the distance slightly. He summoned two blasters to fire at Gaster. Gaster seemed to dodge the blaster beams easily. Sans roared and summoned many more blasters that quickly fired off towards Gaster. Gaster simply teleported behind Sans. He chuckled and gave a victorious smirk, “He’s on the defensive.” Sans noticed Gaster had teleported behind him. Sans quickly turned towards Gaster. Sans lowered his stance and clenched his jaw tight. A low growl constantly emanated from his form. His back arched heavily and he slowly backed away from Gaster. Gaster summoned a few blasters around Sans and fired them. Sans dodge them and fired his own, many more than Gaster. Gaster teleported to dodge. He slowly moved in towards Sans and began to laugh, “He’s desperate!”

Sans growled and he began to claw out towards Gaster occasionally. The miasma between his bones began to flare and flow with intensity. Frisk felt a chill. They were able to focus once more on the flight. They saw Sans’s body language. They saw this before; a wild animal cornered. They stopped their feet and forced Gaster to stand still for a moment. Frisk pleaded, ‘Don’t!’ Gaster grunted as he struggled to move, ‘You idiot child, we have him cornered!’ Frisk continued, ‘That’s exactly it! When wild animals are cornered, they-’ Frisk noticed something head for them, ‘Look out!’ Frisk flung Gaster and themselves out of the way. Sans’s tail crashed down into the stone below. The building shook. Various loose rocks plummeted below. Nearly a corner of the building they stood on was loose but stayed still. The full damage unseen by the combatants. Gaster growled, ‘You nearly had us killed!’ Frisk was undeterred, ‘He would have done worse if you kept taunting him like that!’

Gaster was ready to retort when he noticed something about Sans. He seemed short of breath, and the miasma had begun to fade. Sans dug his claws deep into the stone below to support himself. He paused. He heard the screams of the monsters down below. Both Frisk and Gaster’s minds went to the same thought. Their eyes widened. Gaster gritted his teeth before he roared out, “I will not let you eat another monster ever again!” Gaster summoned beams from all five hands. They fired upon Sans, whom swiftly dodged and jumped off the side of the building. Frisk gasped, “No!” Gaster and Frisk heard the screams of panic first. Second, they heard Sans crash into the stone road below. Gaster would not let this go further. Gaster teleported down to the streets of New Home. Gaster and Frisk saw Sans already had a cat monster pinned with his claws. The monster shook and began to beg for their life. Sans ignored their pleas. His neck arched up slightly before his jaw opened and practically flew down towards the pinned cat monster.

Gaster acted quickly and summoned a disembodied hand just above the cat monster. He fired a beam directly into Sans’s maw. The beam ran through Sans’s skull behind his maw. Sans roared out in pain he stood on his hind legs for a moment to reel back. In his reeling and trashes, the cat monster was set free. The monster immediately ran but gave a quick nod to Gaster as they passed him and Frisk by. All other monsters in the area scattered. Their screams of panic and confusion could be heard in the distance. Some foolhardy or curious monsters peaked from behind corners to watch the events unfold.

Gaster tried to fire beams at Sans as he reeled, but Sans’s thrashing about made it difficult to aim. Sans thrashed into the building he, Frisk, and Gaster once stood on. Bits of debris fell. Nothing more than small stones fell onto Sans. Gaster noticed most of the debris landed directly on Sans. He looked up and saw the corner that had been loosened by Sans’s attack. The gears clicked in his mind and a new idea arose. Gaster immediately spoke to Frisk, ‘I see a way we can end this.’ Frisk perked up, ‘What?’ Gaster began to explain, ‘Take the hand beams and blasters and let that loose piece of building fall.’ Frisk seemed unsure, ‘Won’t he dodge it?’ ‘I will distract him, now go!’ Frisk hesitated but did concede the body after a moment. Their vision now only came from the five disembodied hands. They floated then teleported away from the main body, which was now under Gaster’s full control. Frisk began to examine the loose corner for ways to make it fall. They found that there were still ways to support the structure from the top and bottom. Frisk focused beams and decided to work on the top first and work their way down.

Meanwhile, Sans had ended his thrashes. His attention turned to Gaster. He opened his maw wide. Energy welled within Sans’s maw and fired out towards Gaster, a much more powerful blaster. Gaster teleported to dodge and found where he stood was a large crater. Gaster teleported in between the building and Sans. Sans turned and attempted to cleave Gaster with his tail. Gaster jumped up and clawed at the side of Sans’s head to little effect. Sans turned his head quickly to clamp down on Gaster. Gaster barely dodged. He quickly teleported behind Sans. Before Gaster could strike Sans’s tail, he heard Frisk shout in their shared mind, ‘Move!’ Gaster looked up to see the loose corner finally break free from the building. Gaster waited for a second as Sans turned around and loomed over him. The rubble of the corner began to split off and hit Sans’s back and head in large chunks. Gaster waited until the last second to teleport away to safety. The rest of the rubble came down at once, the majority of it on Sans. A large dust cloud covered Sans’s figure, obscuring him. Frisk returned their gaze to the main set of eyes as the disembodied hands returned to float around the main body. Frisk spoke in worry, ‘Did we get him!? Did it work?’

They saw slightly rustling within the debris. A low, pained groan emanated from the pile. Gaster saw through most of the smoke and saw Sans. Sans’s eyes glazed over and only glowed a little. He was in a daze. His neck and most of his back was exposed while the rest of him was piled in the debris. Gaster’s eyes widened. He saw his chance. Gaster jumped up and readied his tail. He focused his energy around it to create a thin barrier of energy. Gaster wasted no time and brought his tail down straight down on Sans’s neck. The neck bone was cut cleanly away from the body. Sans made no sound, but his eyes widened, and his maw opened. A quiet sound came from Sans. The glow in his eyes slowly faded as did the miasma in between his bones. Some of the rubble began to shift as Sans’s form began to shake and slowly disintegrate into dust. Sans’s body relaxed, as did Gaster and Frisk slightly. A low, husky chuckle emanated from Sans just before his head disappeared into dust. From the top of the pile of rubble, Sans’s soul emerged. It shook for a few seconds before it cracked and ultimately shattered and disintegrated. The mad king was no more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chara was on guard. They began to hear screams, roars, and crashes from outside the Last Corridor. The screams were far, but the crashes changed position constantly. They held the worry in the back of their mind that the fight would come back to them.

New footsteps distracted them from the discourse of New Home. They echoed from the way Chara had entered the Last Corridor. Chara hid behind a pillar close to the entrance and readied their knife. Their eyes locked onto the entrance just before the monster had come into the room. The monster immediately noticed Asriel and gasped. It was familiar to them. The familiar voice spoke quietly, but enough for Chara to hear, “Asriel…” Asriel seemed undeterred.  Chara relaxed and calmly walked out from behind the pillar. They spoke quietly, “It would be unwise to disturb him, Father.” Asgore turned his gaze to Chara and gave a relieved smile, “You are alright!” He waked up to Chara and kneeled down. Chara sheathed their knife. Asgore calmly pulled them into a hug. Chara reciprocated with a smile. Chara spoke with a slight somber, “I had to push him after all…” Asgore pulled away and frowned, “That is…. was Frisk, is it not?” Chara nodded and spoke calmly, “Do not worry, Dr. Gaster recovered their soul before Sans could.” Asgore stood tall and sighed, “They are fighting out there. The monsters in New Home are running for their lives.” Chara muttered dryly, “Better than becoming his food.” Asgore appeared downcast, “I… yes… that would be a worse fate...”

Chara raised a brow. They suspected something about Asgore. Chara spoke curiously, “Is something wrong? Do you not have faith in your boss’s plan?” Asgore hesitated, “…He is not my boss anymore. I quit.” Chara raised a brow, “Why?” Asgore paused and scratched his head, “I… I did not see this situation as safe. He could have teleported you three away when Sans chased you.” Chara mused, “He most likely calculated that Sans was too close for that to be viable.” Asgore nodded, “But… he promised to keep you two safe and-“ Chara quietly shushed him. Chara spoke tactfully, “It does not matter now. While I wish things were better, I cannot dwell on them. All that matters is that Gaster has his souls, and Asriel has finally embraced his instincts.” Asgore did not respond. He hugged himself and looked away, his expression crestfallen. Chara saw this and sighed, “However… if I could change one thing… I would have hoped to save Mother.”

A tear escaped Asgore’s eyes. He covered his face and let out a deep, sorrowful, sigh. Asgore finally spoke, “After so long… I thought there was no way save her.” Chara pointed their thumb towards Asriel, “It is the same way we had to save Asriel. It was part of my plan.” Asgore sniffled as a few more tears escaped his eyes, “Your plan? You… never told me your full plan, Chara…” Chara relaxed slightly, “My plan was simple. I would find the last human and kill them within the confines of the lab. While Gaster left with the soul for his business, I…” Chara frowned, “I would have locked Asriel in a room with the corpse.” Asgore matched Chara’s frown, “And you would not let him out until he ate.” Chara nodded before they continued, “Once Asriel returned to his sanity, my plan was to gather the rest of the corpse in a sack and deliver it to Mother. I concluded the scraps would be enough to snap her out of her insanity, if only for enough time for her to properly hunt on the surface. In addition… I knew Asriel would not be able to eat the entire corpse.”

Asgore wiped his tears away, “I am sorry you had to come up with such a plan, and that you felt the need to keep it secret from me all this time.” Chara crooked their neck slightly, “I simply thought it best for you to focus on your work with Dr. Gaster. Was I wrong?” Asgore shook his head, “No, you are right. Besides, it is as you said; we cannot change the past.” Chara gave a small smile, “But we can change our future.”

Chara paused to gather their thoughts. Yet, something was different. They no longer heard noises of chewing, slurping, and squishing. Chara turned towards Asriel quickly. Their hand instinctively went to their sheathed knife. Asriel was still on his knees. He had stopped eating. He held some half-eaten entrails within his grasp. His eyes were locked onto them. His mouth and eyes were wide with shock. Small squeaks echoed from him. Tears began to well in his eyes. He dropped the entrails onto the floor. A loud squish echoed throughout the Last Corridor. Asriel started to panic. He began to hyperventilate. He sobbed. His voice squeaked, barely heard, “No… I… I…” Chara and Asgore ran over to Asriel. Asriel heard their steps and turned his gaze towards them. Asriel squeaked out, “Chara… dad…” Chara reached Asriel first. They went to his right side and kneeled down, “Rei-“ Asriel panicked. He cried out, “No!”

He shoved Chara away. Blood hand prints lightly stained their jacket, put there by Asriel’s push. Chara landed on their side, not prepared for Asriel’s reaction. Asgore quickly helped Chara up without a word. Asriel sobbed, “I… I … I ate them… I’m… I’m-“ Chara quickly interrupted, “A monster.” Asriel looked over at Chara in shock. Chara only smiled before they continued, “And there is nothing wrong with that fact.” Asriel shook his head in disbelief, “But I ate a friend! I… I don’t want to eat them- I didn’t want to!” Chara remained calm and walked up to Asriel, “And as long as you keep your belly full, you won’t have to worry about that ever again.” Asriel paused, his expression calmed slightly. However, he sounded unsure, “So, I have to eat humans… to make sure I don’t hurt my friends?” “Rei, my mirror was dead, and their soul absorbed by Dr. Gaster before you even touched that body. You never hurt them.”

Asriel’s eyes widened in realization. They pondered for a moment before they looked up at Asgore with a pleading gaze, “I-is that true, dad? If their soul was gone… I never hurt Frisk?” Asgore blinked. He was surprised Asriel had calmed down so quickly. Asgore evened his expression and spoke calmly, “Yes… that would be correct. I did not see the event personally, but if what Chara says is true, then yes. You did not harm Frisk by… eating their former body.”

Chara snapped their fingers, “I think I, at last, have a way to explain it.” Asriel blinked and crooked his head, “Huh?” Chara calmly explained, “Remember the garden we made in Waterfall? The one we made because the monsters who lived next to the old snail farm had died?” Asriel nodded silently before Chara continued, “Say a vegetable in the garden is a soul. Once you pick the plant and put it in a basket, it is no longer in the garden, correct?” “Y-Yeah?” “Then we till and change the land to fulfill our needs. We change the land, but the vegetables are already gone. It is the same as a soul and a human body.” Asriel narrowed his eyes slightly. He scratched his chin with a confused look. He groaned slightly, “I… I think I get it? Golly, we… often changed which vegetables we planted to try out new things.” Chara snickered, “And you stumble across a metaphor for reincarnation.” Asriel puffed his cheeks and spoke childishly, “I still don’t understand that reincarnation thing at all.” Chara relaxed, “Perhaps another time. But for now, do you understand? Do you think you can keep your promise to me?”

Asriel remembered something and jumped slightly in shock, “Oh! Your locket!” He looked down and saw both lockets were covered in blood. He frowned, “They’re both covered in blood.” Chara cradled the lockets around Asriel’s neck in one hand. They smiled and found one that had one chain over the other. They calmly removed the locket and whipped the blood off both sides with their thumb. They saw the familiar ‘C’ on one of the lockets’ faces. They calmly put the locket back around their neck, “Nothing a quick wash and polish will not fix.”

Asgore was about to say something, but before he could, a loud crash sounded in the distance. Much louder than any of the crashes and screams that came before. Asgore, Chara, and Asriel looked around curiously before they found the noise came from New Home. Silence followed. No loud crashes. No loud sounds of magic. Nothing loud enough for them to hear across New Home. Chara raised a brow, “I believe the deed is done. The mad king has been slain.” Asgore sighed in relief, “His plan worked… I… I almost cannot believe all of our work has come to fruition.” Chara’s relaxed gaze turned serious, “Then we do not have much time. If I have a chance at survival, we must leave when the barrier breaks.” Asriel blinked, “We?” Chara nodded, “I told you I would take you to see the stars one day. And now I will be able to fulfill that promise.” Chara took Asriel’s hand and the three of them slowly began to walk towards the throne room, with the barrier not far beyond it.

[newstfionline]

Headlines

Pandemic retools diplomacy as world leaders gather virtually (AP) With COVID-19 still careening across the planet, the annual gathering of its leaders in New York will be replaced this year by a global patchwork of prerecorded speeches, another piece of upheaval in a deeply divided world turned topsy-turvy by a pandemic with no endpoint in sight. As U.N. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres put it: “The COVID-19 pandemic is a crisis unlike any in our lifetimes, and so this year’s General Assembly session will be unlike any other, too.” This is the first time in the 75-year history of the United Nations that there will be no in-person meeting. Gone will be the accompanying traffic jams, street closures for VIP motorcades, stepped-up security to protect leaders and noisy crowds in the halls of the sprawling United Nations complex overlooking New York’s East River. Only one diplomat from each of the U.N.’s 193 member nations will be allowed into the vast General Assembly hall. All will be socially distanced and masked. World leaders are not barred from coming to speak in person. But presidents, prime ministers, monarchs and ministers travel with large entourages and at a time of pandemic and quarantine requirements, including in New York City, the General Assembly members agreed that crowds needed to be avoided.

U.N. chief says no action on U.N. Iran sanctions due to ‘uncertainty’ (Reuters) United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres told the Security Council on Saturday he cannot take any action on a U.S. declaration that all U.N. sanctions on Iran had been reimposed because “there would appear to be uncertainty” on the issue. U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo said last month that he triggered a 30-day process at the council leading to the return of U.N. sanctions on Iran on Saturday evening that would also stop a conventional arms embargo on Tehran from expiring on Oct. 18. But 13 of the 15 Security Council members say Washington’s move is void because Pompeo used a mechanism agreed under a 2015 nuclear deal between Iran and world powers, which the United States quit in 2018. “There would appear to be uncertainty whether or not the process ... was indeed initiated and concomitantly whether or not the (sanctions) terminations ... continue in effect,” Guterres wrote in a letter to the council, seen by Reuters. “It is not for the Secretary-General to proceed as if no such uncertainty exists,” he said.

Ricin Is Said to Have Been Sent to White House (NYT) Letters sent in recent days to the White House and to local law enforcement agencies in Texas contained the lethal substance ricin, and investigators are trying to determine whether other envelopes with the toxin were sent through the postal system, a law enforcement official briefed on the matter said on Saturday. The letter to the White House, which was addressed to President Trump, was intercepted, as were the letters to a detention facility and a sheriff’s office in Texas. Ricin, which is part of the waste produced when castor oil is made, has no known antidote.

Southern California wildfire grows, burns nature center (AP) The destruction wrought by a wind-driven wildfire in the mountains northeast of Los Angeles approached 156 square miles (404 square kilometers) Sunday, burning structures, homes and a nature center in a famed Southern California wildlife sanctuary in foothill desert communities. Firefighters were, however, able to defend Mount Wilson, which overlooks greater Los Angeles in the San Gabriel Mountains and has a historic observatory founded more than a century ago and numerous broadcast antennas serving Southern California, from the Bobcat Fire. The Bobcat Fire started Sept. 6 and has already doubled in size over the last week. It is 15% contained as teams attempt to determine the scope of the destruction in the area about 50 miles (80 kilometers) northeast of downtown LA. Thousands of residents in the foothill communities of the Antelope Valley were ordered to evacuate Saturday as winds pushed the flames into Juniper Hills.

Sweden spared surge of virus cases but many questions remain (AP) A train pulls into the Odenplan subway station in central Stockholm, where morning commuters without masks get off or board before settling in to read their smartphones. Whether on trains or trams, in supermarkets or shopping malls—places where face masks are commonly worn in much of the world—Swedes go about their lives without them. When most of Europe locked down their populations early in the pandemic by closing schools, restaurants, gyms and even borders, Swedes kept enjoying many freedoms. The relatively low-key strategy captured the world’s attention, but at the same time it coincided with a per capita death rate that was much higher than in other Nordic countries. Now, as infection numbers surge again in much of Europe, the country of 10 million people has some of the lowest numbers of new coronavirus cases—and only 14 virus patients in intensive care. Whether Sweden’s strategy is succeeding, however, is still very uncertain. Its health authorities, and in particular chief epidemiologist Dr. Anders Tegnell, keep repeating a familiar warning: It’s too early to tell, and all countries are in a different phase of the pandemic.

Hackers leak personal data of 1,000 Belarusian police on weekend of protests (Reuters) Anonymous hackers leaked the personal data of 1,000 Belarusian police officers in retaliation for a crackdown on street demonstrations against veteran President Alexander Lukashenko, as protesters geared up for another mass rally on Sunday. “As the arrests continue, we will continue to publish data on a massive scale,” said a statement that was distributed by the opposition news channel Nexta Live on the messaging app Telegram. “No one will remain anonymous even under a balaclava.” Security forces have detained thousands of people to tackle a wave of protests and strikes, their faces often obscured by masks, balaclavas or riot helmets. Some protesters have physically torn off the masks of some officers.

In South Korea, Covid-19 Comes With Another Risk: Online Bullies (NYT) The scandal that riveted South Korea’s online busybodies began when Kim Ji-seon checked into a beachside condominium in February. A 29-year-old office worker planning a June wedding, she had nothing more salacious in mind than meeting with members of her church to organize a youth program. Then Ms. Kim tested positive for the coronavirus—and the details of her life became grist for South Korea’s growing culture of cyberbullying and misinformation. Using sophisticated digital tools, the South Korean authorities publicly revealed Ms. Kim’s age, gender, church name and recent whereabouts. Extrapolating from these details, online trolls accused Ms. Kim of belonging to a religious cult. They matched her itinerary with that of another church member who had tested positive and concluded she was cheating on her fiancé. “I was flabbergasted,” said Ms. Kim, now 30, in an interview. “How could they make fun of people who were struggling for their lives? But with an IV stuck in my arm, I could not do much about it from my hospital bed.” Governments around the world have grappled with misinformation and outright lies about the coronavirus. In South Korea, that struggle has become uniquely personal. South Korea owed much of its relative success in finding those infected with the virus to its aggressive use of surveillance camera footage, smartphone data and credit card transaction records. But it has also empowered trolls, harassers and other 21st-century scourges.

Singapore—a poster child for globalism—is taking a nativist turn (Washington Post) When Internet users circulated the LinkedIn profiles of ethnic Indian employees at Singapore-based financial institutions and accused them of stealing jobs, Rindo Ramankutty quickly set his account to private mode. The 36-year-old Indian national has lived in this majority-Chinese city-state since 2011 and feels at home. But over the past decade, the tech worker has witnessed increasing vitriol online against his compatriots. Although officials have condemned the abuse, a thread of nativism has entered mainstream discourse as Singapore, which has ambitions of supplanting politically troubled Hong Kong as Asia’s financial hub, takes a hard look at how open it wants to keep its borders. Unlike in Europe and the United States, where immigration debates generally revolve around undocumented or low-wage labor, middle-income professionals are the source of anxiety here. The perceived number of Indians in finance “is particularly sensitive to Singaporeans who want to work in those jobs,” said Sudhir Thomas Vadaketh, a sociopolitical commentator who has been critical of what he calls Singapore’s “growth at all costs” policies. He added that many countries would face a larger backlash if their middle-class populations had similarly high concentrations of expatriates. Racism is undoubtedly a factor behind some of the nativism. About 49 percent of ethnic Indians in 2019 said they faced discrimination in the housing rental market. Nonetheless, race-based violence is almost nonexistent and outrightly xenophobic politicians have been repeatedly rejected at the polls.

Deadly airstrike in Afghanistan kills at least 10 civilians, 30 Taliban fighters despite ongoing peace talks (Washington Post) While Afghan government and Taliban negotiating teams talk peace in Doha, the two sides continue to carry out deadly attacks leaving dozens dead in Afghanistan itself. On Saturday, two airstrikes carried out by Afghan government planes in the northern province of Kunduz killed at least 10 civilians and more than 30 Taliban fighters, according to local officials. South of Kabul in Paktika province also Saturday, two local officials were assassinated, including the deputy police chief. No group claimed responsibility for the killings, but Afghan officials believe armed groups linked to the Taliban are behind a string of similar attacks. Peace talks, launched last week between the Taliban and the Afghan government in Doha, were hailed as a historic opportunity to end decades of war. But while the two sides have met a handful of times, they haven’t agreed on the basic format of the negotiations, including what exactly will be discussed and in what order. Statements from both delegations stressing the need for “patience” suggest neither side expects a quick resolution to the talks.

US sends mechanized troops back into Syria (Army Times) Bradley fighting vehicles have headed back into eastern Syria, the Pentagon announced Friday, a move that comes after a tense encounter with Russian forces left four U.S. troops lightly injured last month. The return of mechanized units also comes as the U.S. military deployed Sentinel radar and increased the frequency of fighter jet patrols over U.S. forces in that part of Syria, according to U.S. Central Command spokesman Navy Capt. Bill Urban. U.S. and Russian officials traded blame in late August after troops from both countries collided in northeast Syria while on patrol. A Russian vehicle sideswiped a light-armored American one, injuring four U.S. troops, while two Russian helicopters flew about 70 feet over top the altercation, U.S. officials said following the incident. For their part, Russian officials said U.S. troops were blocking their ground patrol and Russian military police “took the necessary measures to prevent an incident and to continue the fulfillment of their task.” Russian forces are in the country backing Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and have long called for U.S. troops to leave.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Roses are Red- Solangelo

Disclaimer: This story will revolve around abuse in future chapters. 

I come from an abusive household. I lived through domestic abuse for eight years, and its impact continues to affect me a little over a decade later. I felt the necessity to give a voice to the people trapped in an abusive relationship, to show what it entails and what it does to a person. As a writer, I always vowed to myself that I would write so in a way so raw and honest, it would list my novels under banned books. I would write the reality people are afraid to write. I would write the voices that have been silenced. So that's what this story is. It will show the development and the struggle of an abusive relationship so that everyone can understand the fear, the hurt, the pain. So people will stop asking, "Why didn't you just leave them?" or "What did you do to provoke them?" and start standing up for the victims instead. This story will contain violence and sexual abuse in addition to emotional abuse. I don't write this because I find pleasure in it, but because I believe it's important for people to understand what this is like.

After a poll on Tumblr, this story has been molded to star Will and Nico from the Percy Jackson series. In reality, you can put any faces you want on these characters. It's the story that matters.

I also decided making this an LGBT novel because LGBT people are silenced further when it comes to abuse. Not only because of the previously mentioned questions but because many don't believe women are abusive nor are men abusive to each other. It's just a matter of fighting back. That is not true.

If you or someone you know need help in regards to domestic abuse, call National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 with more than 200 languages. All calls are free and confidential. Online chat is also available on their website between 7am-2am central time at www.thehotline.org

(Click OP if read more link doesn’t show.)

Feedback is appreciated!!!

It’s funny how time works. How every precise second is a factor in your life. A moment earlier, a moment later, and your life can change completely without you realizing it. It seemed like time was constantly the reason behind everything. This fabricated illusion created by humans to measure their uneventful lives to the point of panic or stress had managed to be the molder of lives.

That was all Nico could really think. That single second that had sent him barreling through the classroom door his first day of college until he was toppled over another student with bright eyes and clusters of freckles. That minute it took him to gather his things and leave the coffee shop on campus resulting in Nico running into the same student- though not literally this time- as he walked in at the same time Nico was going to walk out. That single half-second glance that resulted in running a red light, slamming the brakes too hard, and going to a hospital because a single second later another car had swerved into them.

The minute of traffic that had caused them to get to the club past the hour that 21 and under were allowed. The moment of frustrated hesitation that led to someone offering help, sneaking them through the back. The three minutes in which Nico left to get a drink, the single second it took for him to turn and find Will in the crowd, talking to someone.

Life had changed for the better and for the worse by mere seconds. Moments which, had they happened a little earlier or later, would have led their lives down completely different paths.

Nico hated time.

***

There was an incessant tug at his arm. “Nico, come on, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have driven there for nothing,” Will sighed. “We have to go.

“Give me two seconds, man I’m almost done,” he said, peeking up at the mirror, his hands running through his hair, trying to spread the gel just right. Will rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter, watching Nico through the window. His eyes flickered over to him, suddenly uncomfortable. “Dude. Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m thinking maybe if I intimidate you enough, we can leave already.” Nico rolled his eyes and turned to him.

“Ever heard the expression ‘a watched teapot never whistles?’”

“You’re not a teapot,” he pointed out, smirking, raising an eyebrow. Nico snorted and shoved him playfully. “Finally,” he breathed as Nico left the bathroom.

Together, they left Nico’s on campus apartment and started for Will’s car. Since Nico crashed his, he hasn’t been able to fix it, rendering it useless. He glanced momentarily at Will knowing that on his right side, there were twenty stitches. Will was rocking the side shaved look, but knowing it was Nico’s fault made it painful to look at him sometimes. The hair had grown out enough, the stitches healed so that there was only a faded, jagged, light scar obscured by dirty blond hair.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m a lost puppy, Neeks. It’s been four months.” Will always knew when Nico was thinking about the accident. “I’m perfectly fine. Look at me, ready to get hammered and grind on strangers at a club! Plus, this haircut makes me look edgy. Very attractive.”

Nico offered a smile, but his chest still constricted with guilt. It was his fault. And though Will kept saying anyone could’ve run a red light, Nico knew it was more.

It wasn’t just the mistake of running a red light, and slamming the brake when he probably should’ve sped up to get across before cars drove into them. It was the fact that he had been driving and he had let himself get distracted by Will, blond hair flying back in short waves since the window was down, singing happily along with the radio, lips curled into a smile, hands drumming against the dashboard because Will swore he could figure out the drum beat.

He had been selfish, trying to soak up his presence, completely forgetting the road until Will shouted that there was a red light.

Nico hit the brakes without thinking. A jolt hit the front right side, another the back left, the impact shaking his bones, an icy feeling spreading through him as it registered that he’d just crashed. Will’s airbag had burst out, the window shattered, and Will was groaning lifting his head, the right side of his face smear with blood. And Nico’s head had hit the steering wheel hard enough to give him a headache, but he was fine and that wasn’t fair because he was the one driving, it had been his fault, so why had it been Will who got hurt so badly?

Suddenly an arm draped around his shoulders, and he pulled into the scent of Will; cotton and vanilla shampoo and minty toothpaste and Old Spice cologne. “It’s okay, Nico. Stop beating yourself up about this.” Vaguely, Nico wondered if it was possible to be in love with someone he never even dated. “We’re going to dance, we’re going to drink, and we’re going to have some fucking fun.” He shook Nico’s shoulders gently. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Nico said. He smiled and remained under Will’s arm until they reached his car.

Of course, the traffic was bad. It was a Friday night, and everyone was dying to go out into the city and get stupid drunk only to regret it the next morning and do it all over again by the time the sun set.

They had just barely reached the club in time before they refused anyone under 21, and stood in line, pulling out ten bucks each and their IDs. When they reached the bouncer, he checked the IDs and shook his head. “Sorry dudes. No more under 21.”

Will gaped and scoffed. “We’ve been in line for like five minutes. It’s like two minutes past the hour, come on.”

The guy rolled his eyes and gave their IDs back. “Get here earlier next time then.” Nico winced at that, guilty again because he knew his getting ready had made them later.

“What a dick,” Will mumbled under his breath, turning away with Nico. “That’s ridiculous. It’s just fucking ridiculous! We have our money, we’ve been in line, and it’s not like we could get drinks anyway with the exaggerated exes they put on our hands. That shit takes days to wash off, dude.”

“Well, Thursdays are always 21 and under. We could come next week. Why don’t we get a pizza or something and watch a movie at my place?” he suggested. “I’ll buy,” he added, knowing this was all his fault.

Will let his head fall to the side, kicking at the ground. “That does sound tempting,” he said with a smile. Nico smiled back, but before they could turn away, someone walked up to them.

“Hey. I heard you guys were struggling with the bouncer.” Nico looked at the guy uneasily. Never trust anyone you don’t know this late in the heart of the city.

The guy had a lazy posture, tufts of brown hair in tousled waves, and he was rolling a large M&M in his mouth, looking at them with a cocked eyebrow, head tilted to the side.

“Yeah,” Will answered, glancing at Nico. “We’re under 21, but we were in line for a while. He didn’t want to let us in.” He shrugged.

The guy tilted his head back upright, biting down on his chocolate as he looked at Will and smirked. “I could get you guys in. There’s a back door, my friend’s the bartender. He has access to the door.” He gestured over. “Come on.” Will looked at Nico with an excitement Nico couldn’t bring himself to quell.

They walked over, Will walking with ease and Nico with enough tension for both of them. They stood by a door, the ground reeking of piss, trash, and who knows what else for a few moments before the door opened, revealing a guy with a ponytail and wide gages in his earlobes. “Yo, Sebastian. Who’re they?”

“New friends,” he answered. “They’re with me.” They guy nodded and let them in.

The club was packed, and that was an understatement. Bodies could hardly move, but that didn’t stop couples from grinding against each other slowly to the booming beat of the bass or the drunks from shoving past people like the dancefloor was theirs, their drinks spilling onto people or themselves. The song was good, Nico had heard it on the radio, but it was nearly drowned out by the constant club-beat of the bass they’d remixed it into. The song changed, along with a video on the small screens hanging from the ceilings. The beat remained the same, only the lyrics changing.

Nico saw different hair colors, heard shrieks of laughter and people singing along. He saw girls and guys with their hair matted down with sweat against their foreheads as they rocked their hips together, hips swaying sensually, not matching with the beat, but that obviously didn’t matter. “Come on,” he heard a faint shout. He looked over and Sebastian was leading them over to a smoke area where people could sit and take a break.

Will looked absolutely elated. Nico wished he could match his enthusiasm instead of dragging along like dead weight. “I’m Sebastian,” the guy shouted, though this time Nico heard him better.

“I’m Will. This is Nico. Thanks for getting us in!” He flashed a sincere, open smile. God, Nico loved that smile. It held all the warmth in the universe, and it was always honest and it was always special even though he always smiled. Anyone who received a smile from him was blessed for the rest of the day.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “So, you two together?”

Nico’s eyes went wide, his heart stuttered. It wasn’t the first time they’d been asked. People always assumed they were a couple. But each time always made Nico’s heart flutter with fear and hope.

Will laughed good-naturedly and wrapped an arm around Nico. “No, he’s my best friend. We’re both single.” The answer made Nico’s stomach twist, even though he knew it was true. But something changed in Sebastian’s expression. His smile widened slightly, his eyes focused on Will, and Nico had the absurd urge to pull him away and leave the club. Leave the grinding bodies, the boring bass, the messy flashing lights.

Sebastian looked over at Nico and smiled. “You guys want some drinks? Jack won’t ask your ID he knows you came in with me.” Nico looked at him suspiciously, and Sebastian seemed to understand because he laughed. He pulled out some money and handed it over. “You can get them. I know the number one rule of a club is not to take a drink from someone else.”

Nico relaxed and looked at Will. “Can you bring me a Jack and Coke on the rocks?” Nico nodded and pleaded with his eyes for him to stay in the same spot. He didn’t want this guy whisking him away.

While Nico left to get Will’s drink and a beer for himself, he couldn’t help but scan the crowds. It was getting more and more crowded. His eyes flitted over to where Will and Sebastian were waiting.

His stomach dropped.

Sebastian was close, about the same height as Will. His hand was in his hair, on the shaved side. Nico knew he was touching the scar. He knew it, and his stomach churned at the idea. But Will seemed completely at ease. His eyes were lidded, his sweet smile morphed into a sensual smirk, head tilted nearly brushing Sebastian’s nose with his own.

Nico was rushing back, spilling most of his beer, eyes set on the two of them. When he reached them, Will looked his way, but remained close, shoulder brushing Sebastian’s. Nico gave him his drink and Will thanked him. Sebastian whispered something in his ear and Nico fought the urge to hit him.

Then Will leaned over, his whiskey-tinted breath warm in Nico’s ear. “You mind if I go dance?”

His heart dropped to his stomach. “No, go ahead,” he answered lightly.

Will smiled and nudged him. “You should dance too. It’s a club, go meet someone.”

But the only person I want is you, he thought to himself. But he just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, totally will if I grow enough balls.” Will laughed and punched his shoulder lightly before walking away with Sebastian. Nico noticed with a nauseating lurch that his hand was intertwined in Sebastian’s.

Staying in the smoke area, Nico watched with a twisting heart as Will wrapped his hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck and curled closer to him, careful not to spill his drink. Sebastian’s hands didn't hesitate to roam up and down Will’s torso, fingers searching greedily. Nico dared him to go too far. Too slip his hands too low, to push into him too hard, to do anything that would make Will push him away and turn back to Nico. But he didn't.

Three songs later, he was still painfully watching Will twist in Sebastian’s arms and press against him, head tilted back in a joyous smile as Sebastian tentatively leaned down, encouraged by Will exposing his neck further, and licked the skin there.

It was something Nico had been dying to do, and very nearly did a few times when he was too drunk. And watching Will melt against him, reveling in this stranger's lips at his throat, Nico felt something cold clench his heart until it was too painful. He looked away and wished he had had the gall to tell Will what he felt. Even if Will didn't like him back, at least he wouldn't torture Nico by blatantly flirting and feeling up strangers in front of him. Will would never do that.

Instead he remained seated, sipping lukewarm beer, and wishing more than anything that they’d started walking away a few seconds earlier. Then they wouldn’t have met Sebastian, and they’d be in Nico’s living room watching a movie and throwing pepperoni at each other.

Nico was getting cranky. He was sleepy, hurt, and he felt invisible in the seating area watching couples grope each other. He wondered how many of these people had just met. How many of these were just doing what Will and Sebastian were doing?

His eyes returned to Will and Nico felt the earth shatter beneath him as everything fell away. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, a pain in his heart so strong it became physical.

They were kissing. They were pressed as close as they possibly could be, kissing almost viciously. Even from a distance, Nico could see their tongues probing into each other’s mouths, teeth biting at lips, fingers tangled into locks of hair. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He wanted to, God he wanted to. He didn’t want to torture himself like this, watching someone adore the person he loved the way he’d always wanted to.

But no.

If Nico had the chance, the kiss wouldn’t be so primal. He would kiss him softly. He would kiss him slowly. He would admire and bask in every sensation, from the warmth of his lips to the way his lips would part slightly to the texture of his tongue pressed against Nico’s own. He would relish the kiss, live in it, cherish it with everything in him.

Knowing that he never would while watching the scene unfold in front of him, the two of them stumbling between dancing people until they were near a wall, pressing into it like they wanted to mold into it, Nico finally had to tear himself away.

The look of pure ecstasy on his face was unfair. Knowing that Will enjoyed what he was doing hurt Nico further. It reiterated that he never stood a chance.

He staggered to the bathroom taking ragged breaths. He splashed his face with water, trying to calm down, trying to quell the hurt, the agony that was trying to bubble and burst through his chest.

He just wanted to go home.

He wasn’t sure how long he took refuge in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone until it was down to 10% if only to ignore the memory pawing at his brain. He didn’t pay attention to the time. But it was nearly three in the morning when his phone rang with Will’s face, contorted by a Snapchat filter, and Nico yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He answered and stuttered out a, “Hello?”

“Don’t hello? me!” he snapped. “Where the hell are you? I’ve gone all over this place looking for you! I came outside and I can’t go back in. Baz’s friend is off his shift. Are you still in there?”

“Looking for me?” he questioned. He blinked and shook his head. “Um, sorry.”

“Are you drunk right now? Where are you? Are you okay?” Nico’s brain was struggling to catch up, but it was more due to the emotional overflow and mind numbing scrolling he’d been doing while inhaling the disgusting scent of the bathroom. “Nico?”

“I’m okay, sorry. I’m-” Suddenly there was no static on the line. He looked at his screen and cursed when he saw it was completely black. It died.

He cursed under his breath and left the bathroom, then the club. It was still relatively full, but not as asphyxiatingly packed as before. There were several people on the sidewalk, waiting on Ubers or friends or trying to maintain their balance long enough to stay upright for two seconds.

He wasn’t sure where Will was, but if he could just go to where they’d parked, he would be fine.

He started walking, and that’s when he heard a relieved cry in the form of his name. He turned and saw Will barreling into him, his arms wrapping around him. Nico yelped and awkwardly hugged him back.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked, pulling away.

Nico tried and failed to ignore the purple marks along his neck and the plump swell on his nearly red lips. “I was in the bathroom,” he grumbled.

“The whole time?” he asked incredulously.

Nico felt his face flush and shrugged his hands away. “Yeah. I think the beer might’ve made me a little sick or something. I wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to force you to go home, so…. I just hung out in the bathroom. I’m sorry I forgot to text you.”

“Nico,” he breath exasperatedly. But before he finished, Sebastian was beside him, an arm snaking around Will’s waist.

He had marks on his neck too. But he had a few bite marks too.

“You found him,” he said. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah, just feel a little sick,” Nico said, forcing a smile.

“I’m going to take him home,” Will whispered. “Get in, Neeks.” He opened the door for Nico get in, and he did so awkwardly. He could hear the muted murmurs just outside his window. “Thanks for helping me look for him.” Something unintelligible. “I had fun tonight. Text me?”

“As soon as you get in the car.” Nico could see through the side mirror as Sebastian neared Will, his arms wrapping around him. It wasn’t greedy this time. It was soft. Gentle. “Promise I’ll see you again.”

Will’s face tilted toward him, and Nico knew they were kissing again. He furrowed his eyebrows and curled into his seat shutting his eyes. A few excruciatingly long moments later, Will opened the door to the car and got it, starting the engine. “Nico?” Nico didn’t respond. He kept his eyes closed. He could pretend to be happy for him. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. “Neeks?” His hand rested on his arm. “Hm. Maybe you did get sick.” He heard him fumble with something and Nico noticed the air vents weren’t blasting in his face anymore. It was subtler and the air blew gently against him, enough to keep him from sweating, but not so much to make him freeze. The radio switched between stations for a while before Will settled on an Indie station and left it at a low volume.

Will hated Indie. He put it for Nico. So he could unconsciously listen in his sleep. It made Nico want to burst into tears and confession.

Instead, he kept his eyes shut and pretended to sleep the entire way back to campus.

Click Here for Ch. 2

[useunknown]

Why I’m Afraid

“The paranoid spokesman sees the fate of conspiracy in apocalyptic terms—he traffics in the birth and death of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human values. He is always manning the barricades of civilization. He constantly lives at a turning point. Like religious millennialists he expresses the anxiety of those who are living through the last days and he is sometimes disposed to set a date for the apocalypse.” Richard Hofstadter, The Paranoid Style, Harpers, 1964.

“How is this to be avoided, among ordinary men, even highly educated ordinary men? Frankly, I do not know. I do not see, even now. Many, many times since it all happened I have pondered that pair of great maxims, Principiis obsta and Finem respice - "Resist the beginnings” and “consider the end.” But one must foresee the end in order to resist, or even see, the beginnings. One must foresee the end clearly and certainly and how is this to be done, by ordinary men or even by extraordinary men? Things might have changed here before they went as far as they did; they didn’t, but they might have. And everyone counts on that might.“ Milton Mayer, They Thought They Were Free: The Germans, 1933-45

Reason #1: Because I’m a White Liberal Coastal Elite Unaccustomed to Losing

We joked the race would be called for Clinton by the time our election-watch party started at 6:30. Which was fine, because who wanted to watch Wolf Blitzer stall for five hours while vote tallies streamed in? A gleeful gmail thread counted down to the party. Who was bringing the kleenex? There would be tears of joy to mop up. We wondered if Clinton would find a maze on the inside of Trump’s head when she scalped him. A Trump piñata was going to be on hand.

We gathered at a friend’s Echo Park home, “I Voted” stickers slapped over our hearts, half-surprised the election wasn’t yet in hand. Trump and Clinton were still tracking even in Florida, but needless to say that would change when the urban areas started reporting. 

We were graduates of good universities, many of us working in or around Hollywood, who yes, read The New Yorker, and had been listening to Keepin’ it 1600 and joked about Donald Drumpf and told everyone they had to see Moonlight because it’s just incredible. We wanted more diversity at the Oscars and used the right pronouns when we talked about transgender people, and talked about firewall states and paths to 270 electoral votes and how as soon as Clinton won Florida and North Carolina, it would be over. 

We flipped between CNN and MSNBC, watching stables of pundits on expensive sets dance around touch screens as they tried to divine the arcana of obscure suburbs. Trump was winning in counties Obama had won in 2012. The pundits scratched their heads– the polls were getting some things unnervingly wrong. Every so often they’d give a projection, a picture of Trump appearing on the screen with his smug smile, a check mark under his name. The map kept getting more red, Trump’s electoral tally creeping towards 270. We looked at each other– what the hell was happening? We poured more wine as we realized Clinton wasn’t going to win Florida, or North Carolina, or Ohio, or Iowa. Even New Hampshire seemed to be in doubt. I pulled up pathto270.com on my phone and did the math... Wait a minute: if Clinton didn’t win Michigan, she was finished. We broke out a moments-away-from-being-legal pre-roll to take the edge off.

And then Wisconsin started to turn red. And then so too did Pennsylvania. Suddenly it was Clinton who needed to surge ahead in five different states. We changed the channel to Fox News because we suspected that MSNBC’s Steve Kornacki wasn’t being entirely upfront with us. Sure enough, they had already called Michigan for Trump. "It’s over, isn’t it,” someone said despondently.

Those fucking deplorables, in their fucking baskets. Did they realize what they had just done to our country? 

We looked at the Trump piñata in the corner. We were too devastated to go near it, or acknowledge how wrong we had been. I don’t think a piñata’s ever had the last laugh at a party– but it was that kind of night.  

Reason #2: Because I’m Sheltered from Injustice and feel Entitled to Happy Endings

All around me, in communities real and online, in group-texts with friends and conversations with strangers, there’s an unquantifiable sadness. At a hip Silver Lake coffee shop the day after the election, baristas had become de facto grief counselors, each customer arriving at the cash register with a sorrowful sigh.

“How are you?” 

“Oh... you know.”

Sigh. “Yeah.”

I was in Los Angeles on 9/11. The mood on November 9th, 2016 was bleaker. 

Losing elections is one of the despairs of living in a democracy. Every few years you’re liable to feel like your country has been wrested away from you, and that you’re powerless to stop it. But Trump’s victory left us feeling far more bereft than if McCain had won in 2008 or Romney had won 2012. 

Part of it is the dissonance between where we thought our country was and where we’ve found it. We had our phones out, ready to record the moment when we burst through the glass ceiling into an era of a more tolerant, cosmopolitan, liberal, inclusive America. After 43 white male presidents, we’d have an African American and now, a woman. John Oliver had joked during the campaign that if Democracy was a computer game and Clinton was completing women’s 100 year-quest to get the oval office, Donald Trump made for a fitting final boss. We could endure his white nationalist chauvinist worldview and categorical unfitness to be President when it seemed like his campaign was a gross-out Farelly Brothers comedy and his defeat was an afterthought. 

We had believed in a myth of the teleology of liberal progressivism and placed faith in the ultimate goodness of “the American voter.” Clinton’s victory would be the triumph of forward progress over restoration, togetherness over division, high roads over low ones, love over hate. 

So it’s no surprise we were crushed. When a Republican beats a Democrat, that’s politics. When it seems like the forces of evil have triumphed over the forces of good, that can feel like tragedy. Especially to people not used to the world treating them with indifference. Perhaps we’d been standing upside down the past eighteen months– the glass ceiling we thought we’d been looking up at was actually a floor, and we’d just fallen down through it. 

But there’s also something more sinister in the air. A cosmic foreboding. A greater trauma has taken place, something menacing and chilling that makes you think “something’s different this time.” My body is tense, an epigenetic voice that’s seen demagogues and persecution in another life, warning me to be on high alert because somehow, I know how this one ends. It was only a hundred years ago that my grandfather bribed a boarder guard and dressed like a girl to flee pogroms in the Soviet Union.

Reason #3: Because I’m Being Reactive and Underestimating America

Cooler heads will cite America’s resilience: “We’ll survive because we always do.” 

We’ve had bad presidents. It hasn’t meant the end of the republic. We’ve emerged from wars, economic downturns, and attacks on our freedom. We’ve seen demagogues, and rebuffed them. If a president’s terrible, he won’t get reelected. Everything’s cyclical. The system can be slow and ugly, but it reacts and corrects. 

This is by no means the first time a party has controlled all three branches of government. Republicans did it in 2000. They proceeded to lose Congress in the 2002 midterms, and narrowly lost their senate majority in 2006. They may have charged into a few ill-advised wars that killed hundreds of thousands of people and ballooned the deficit and accelerated global warming and brought moral shame upon us with secret torture prisons and warrantless wiretapping and aggravated wealth inequality with tax cuts for the rich and the deregulation of banks and fostered conditions for the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression along the way, but that whole mess brought us Obama, and the republic survived. 

And when Democrats took the White House and a majority in the house and senate in 2008? Republicans curled up in an obstructionist ball for two years, and took back congress in the 2010 midterms. It is the greatest gift the founding fathers gave us– a system that errs towards gridlock, which has protected us against the forces of tyranny for some 240 years. 

The Cooler Heads will cite reasons why this will be the case for Trump. They cite the fact that Trump’s Republican coalition is unwieldy at best. That Trump isn’t even really a Republican– his campaign was against Paul Ryan, Mitch McConnell and the Republican establishment as much as it was against the Democrats. Once the Republicans cut taxes for the wealthy, appoint a few conservative judges to the courts, roll back Obamacare, Dodd-Frank and the Clean Energy Act, Trump’s coalition is going to start to fracture. 

Trump didn’t win the election because he broadened the Republican coalition and attracted new voters to the Republican party– he won because voter turnout was down. Trump had a million more votes than Romney in the states he won that Romney lost– Ohio, Florida, Iowa, Pennsylvania, and Michigan (with Wisconsin virtually the same), but total voter turnout was lower than it was in 2012 in all of these states (except for Florida, where voter turnout was up 8% from 2012 and Trump outperformed Romney by 11%). Longterm demographic trends still favor the Democrat’s coalition, and if Trump governs as poorly as we fear, democratic voters will be ignited to turn out for the midterm elections in 2018 and to take Trump down in 2020.

The Cooler Heads will also note there are mechanisms for the minority party to obstruct the governing one from getting things done. The Republicans don’t have the 60 votes they would need to force things through the senate. Democrats will copy the Republican playbook from the past eight years and at the very least, they’ll manage to stop Trump from doing anything that puts the country in existential danger. 

As for Trump’s campaign of intolerance and the wave of white nationalism he rode into office, cooler heads will argue that while he may hold views that are racist, misogynistic, and xenophobic, he’s more empty vessel than ideologue. His rhetoric during the campaign was designed to make the election about identity. But it was a cynical marketing strategy, not an ideology. 

The Cooler Heads might even pontificate that a Trump presidency might not be all bad. I think they’re wrong, and getting there requires a cocktail of denial and privilege, but they might reason that while Trump’s a demagogue and a narcissist with designs to use the presidency to enrich himself and his family, perhaps he’ll have a business man’s savvy about running the government. Maybe he’ll pass a big infrastructure bill that doubles as a stimulus, with Democrats ensuring its inclusive and a chastened media monitoring for corruption and graft. He’ll promulgate business-friendly policies that enrich banks and corporations and increase wealth inequality, but the American economy hums as high corporate profits propel the stock market upwards.   

Mike Pence and Paul Ryan try to push through a radical Republican agenda, but run into gridlock. They don’t have the 60 votes they need repeal Dodd-Frank, they repeal Obamacare through budget reconciliation but delay when the repeal goes into effect because no one can figure out how to replace it, as Republican voters realize through a haze of misinformation that Obamacare and the Affordable Care Act are the same thing, that repealing it would mean no longer being able to afford their cancer treatment, and that everything they don’t like about Obamacare was the result of Republican obstructionism and sabotage. Republican lawmakers stop short of Trump’s craziest proposals, which do indeed prove politically unworkable.  If Silicon Valley keeps innovating and a policy of isolationism keeps America out of a clash between Europe and the Middle East, Trump could even end up being remembered as a middling President, a tier above George W. Bush and Millard Fillmore.

Reason #4: Because the Real Best Case Scenario is Actually Terrible

Even if Trump was a normal politician, his platform would be dangerous. His incompetency and illiteracy and the fact that he processes the world like a five-year old child is enough to spell disaster.

Trump’s stance on climate change alone could be, by definition, apocalyptic. If he walks away from the Paris Accord, it could be a decade before the world cooperates on climate change again. We could look back on his presidency as the moment when we accelerated environmental degradation and doomed the planet. 

Trump’s complete ignorance about diplomacy and geopolitics could also rapidly throw the world into turmoil. He’s exhibited minimal understanding of how the world works or America’s place in it. He’s volatile, reactive and vengeful in a fragile world that manages order only through predictability and diplomacy. Our allies are frightened they can no longer rely on American support, and if we drive them away, they’ll find protection elsewhere. 

Trump’s belief in protectionism will cut economic ties that foster cooperation and American soft power. Trump’s plans to walk away from the TPP will cripple American influence in Asia Pacific, and cede influence in the region to China, and his plans to declare China a currency manipulator and use Taiwan as a bargaining chip could escalate tensions with China and make Sino-US relations openly hostile. 

Trump and the alt-right’s categorical condemnation of Islam and hardline approach to fighting terrorism, including a Muslim immigration ban, the astonishingly unconstitutional Muslim registry, the resumption of torture and black sites, and even the semantic obsession with saying “radical Islamic terrorism,” threaten to alienate moderate Muslims and foster more extremism, while compromising American values and diminishing our standing around the world. Trump could be the buffoon who brings the clash of civilizations to fruition.

Trump’s volatile temperament is at this point well-documented. He’s reactive and vindictive, prone to late-night Twitter rants that spew invective without any basis in fact. What happens when he takes aim at a foreign leader? What happens when he decides to escalate a Twitter War into a real one? U.S. foreign policy has never been in more reckless hands, and the possibility for a misstep that threatens our security, weakens our standing in the world, or triggers an international crisis have seemingly never been higher.

There’s a current of fear sweeping America and Europe, as white people without a college educations outside of major cities who are culturally and economically alienated from the forces of globalization, who never recovered from the 2008 financial crisis and in whom a fear of Islam and terror have been ingrained since 9/11, are turning to right-wing nativist movements that promise a return to a more prosperous past. Countries across Europe are being strained by the influx of refugees, and nationalist parties in Finland (18% of the vote), Denmark (21%), Austria (35%), Hungary (21%), France (14%), and Switzerland (29%) are gaining support on the back of anti-immigration platforms that call out Islam by name. 

This is the sentiment that loomed over the Brexit referendum, which saw British voters upend polling expectations and vote to leave the European Union. On the day of the Brexit referendum polls showed a 3-4% lead for “remain” that was within the margin of error, only to have an unexpected victory for “leave” that was spearheaded by the turnout of non-college white people in the heartland, who longed to reclaim some imagined “past greatness,” felt the loss of “national identity,” and scapegoated immigrants for taking jobs and straining public services. Five months later, the US election has followed the exact same script. 

Trump spent the campaign stoking fears that America was hurtling towards the apocalypse. Now that he’s the president-elect it’s tempting to invoke the same kind of hyperbole. I’m nervous Trump’s administration is going to be one of unprecedented corruption and division, that serves one part of the country at the expense of others, that brings out the worst in us and represses what’s best.

But even in this scenario, the country would survive. Our system, our principles, our resolve have always allowed us to weather these storms. Progress doesn’t move in a straight line. We’ll survive this and come out stronger on the other side, because we always do. Sure the idea that Trump could be the end of the 240-year American experiment is the thinking of the paranoid conspiracist.

But god, if there was ever a moment to wonder if we’re in uncharted territory, it’s now. Because there’s something dangerous about the “we’ll survive because we always do” axiom: it holds true until it doesn’t. 

Because this Time’s Actually Different

There is a critical difference between the 2016 Presidential election and the 57 that came before it: we’ve never elected a demagogue like Trump to the office of the President. 

Of all the demagogues that have emerged in the course of US history–Huey Long, George Wallace, Joseph McCarthy, Charles Coughlin– Trump is the only one to seize our highest office. We’ve watched him closely for 18 months. He’s not bound by any norms, or decency or sense of shame.  His politics are dangerous.

In Trump, we’ve elected the tyrant our founding fathers feared and designed our democracy to defend against. The populist who could rise to power by appealing to base emotions and making promises to the working class that couldn’t be kept. Soon-to-be-boycotted by the alt-right founding father Alexander Hamilton warned that it was democracy’s greatest vulnerability in Federalist #1: “Of those men who have overturned the liberties of republics, the greatest number have begun their career by paying an obsequious court to the people; commencing demagogues, and ending tyrants.” 

A vengeful narcissist who believes he’s above our norms should not be in the Oval Office. Trump’s campaign followed a demagogue’s playbook– drumming up fears of terrorism and national decline, scapegoating minorities and immigrants, shamelessly lying and promising the impossible. He’s announced intentions to jail his opponents and sue his accusers, incited violence at his rallies and shown a preference for confrontation and vengeance over compromise or resolution. He’s declared the rights to freedom of speech, religion, and assembly to be annoyances he could do without. 

The institutions and norms that were supposed to keep a demagogue out of the White House have already failed us. This puts the United States in uncharted territory, and the possibilities of a Trump presidency should be considered in that light.

Trump’s consistently demonstrated a belief that the rules don’t apply to him. For 25 years as a private citizen, he stiffed contractors and creditors, committed infidelity and sexual assault, and evaded taxes. Most disturbing, Trump maintained during the campaign he wouldn’t accept the election results if he lost, a statement he modulated but never retracted. The peaceful transition of power is the most fundamental and singular political feat of American democracy. It’s the reason any of this works. If Trump was prepared to challenge these precedents as a candidate who was expected to lose, what might he do when he’s in office? It seems not a matter of whether Trump will abuse power– it’s how brazenly and destructively.

Trump plans to have his children run the Trump Corporation while he’s in office, and has put his children in charge of the transition team that will make all key hires for his administration, an unconscionable conflict of interest. I’m not about to pretend that U.S. politics haven’t always involved horse trading and corruption. I’m sure the alt-right has corruption anecdotes about the Clintons and the Obamas– but what Trump’s trying to get away with is unprecedented.

Never before has there been such an obvious channel for directly bribing the President of the United States. Foreign leaders with holdings in foreign companies could award lucrative deals to Trump Corp to influence U.S. policy. Trump’s recently opened hotel in DC seems poised to become a direct channel for foreign countries to bribe Trump, and puts him in violation of the Constitution’s emoluments clause. Trump’s children headed his campaign and have chaired his transition team– there is no separation between them and Trump. The idea that a “chinese wall” could exist between Ivanka Trump, who heads Trump Corp, and her husband Jared Kushner, who Trump has challenged anti-nepotism laws to bring into his administration, is ridiculous. 

When a company or foreign government meets with Trump Corp, it will be hard not to imagine it’s also dealing with the United States government. It’s a dangerous line that at best opens the door to unprecedented corruption and at worst leads to Donald Jr. igniting a cyber war when he threatens a well-connected Chinese Developer. As Matt Iglesias reasons in one of the most chilling articles written since the election, given Trump’s philosophy of rewarding loyalists and punishing his rivals, Trump could turn the U.S. into a post-Soviet style kleptocracy. A pay-to-play system in which fealty to Trump’s administration is necessary for doing business, while businesses that voice dissent find themselves on the wrong side of regulations, losing government contracts, or embroiled in federal investigations. 

He’s already begun to set the stage for this kleptocracy, with his deal with Carrier “to save a thousand jobs from being shipped to Mexico.” The narrative on the right is that Trump met with Carrier and convinced it to keep a plant open in Indiana, thereby saving a thousand jobs before he’s even arrived in office. Obama would have been pilloried by the right if he ever boasted about “saving jobs from leaving.” He can’t even get credit for creating 16 million jobs during his presidency. No matter that 6,000 Carrier jobs are still leaving, and that Trump has merely slowed the inevitable. This isn’t an economic policy– it’s a precedent for companies to hold the government hostage– “cut our taxes or we’ll leave.” But of even greater concern, Trump has taken the first step towards his kleptocracy, and disguised it in a triumphant and politically-difficult-to-argue-against story about saving manufacturing jobs. A world where he picks winners and losers, singling out private companies to reward or punish on a case-by-case basis. Like the most dangerous demagogues and paranoid psychopaths, Trump keeps a list of his enemies. He has shown no hesitation in using his Twitter account to attack them and seems to relish the power his tweets have to move markets. 

As for Trump’s unwieldy Republican coalition– I want to believe there are reasonable Republicans that might serve as a check on Trump. That party cooperation with Trump’s agenda will slow after they’ve implemented the top agenda items of the Republican establishment and done their best to erase any trace that Obama was in the White House. But if Republicans were too spineless to condemn Trump during the campaign, how can we expect them to stand up to him when he’s returned them to power, touts a voter mandate, and uses the oval office as a bully pulpit? 

These are the same Republicans that began undermining our institutions earlier this year, when they abdicated their constitutional duty to give a hearing to Merrick Garland. A week before the election, Republican senators were vowing to obstruct any Supreme Court nominees appointed by Clinton, abandoning any pretense that this was ever based on even the most rickety of precedents. Our institutions are all that hold our country together. When they cease to transcend any one person or party, our entire republic is threatened. 

Normally the losing party regroups after an election and begins to work towards winning back legislative control in the midterm elections. Bush lost his Republican majority in the house and senate in the midterm elections of 2002, and Obama lost his in 2010. But while a lot can change in two years, the 2018 midterm elections don’t seem to offer democrats that possibility. Republican gerrymandering will aid Republicans in holding the house for the foreseeable future, with many Republicans more afraid defeat will come from “getting primaried” from the right than from a Democrat challenger. In the senate, only eight Republicans are up for reelection, seven of them from solidly Red states, while 25 Democrats are up for reelection, ten of whom are from states won by Trump. 

Even more than gerrymandering or specific senate races though, the Democrat coalition faces a longterm structural and geographic problem. Democrats enjoy a voter majority, but their support is inefficiently distributed in a system that awards political power based on geography. For the second time in five elections, the Democrats won the popular vote and lost the electoral college. Clinton won California by 4.3 million votes, and won its 55 electoral votes– Trump won Florida, Michigan, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Wisconsin, and North Carolina by about 800,000 votes, and won 108 electoral votes. Representation in the senate is also geared towards geography– the 40 million people in California get the same number of senators as the 600,000 people in Wyoming. The arithmetic of congress and the electoral college was set up to create a buffer between voters and their elected officials and to prevent any one region from becoming too powerful. But with democrats clustered in cities and on the coasts, the arithmetic currently cedes disproportionate representation to Republicans, and even as demographic trends favor the democrats, it could be a while before demographics catch up to geographic distribution. Add to that the fact that Trump can appoint a partisan crony to chair the federal reserve in 2018 to grease monetary policy in the run up to the election in 2020 and that Republicans will delay the repeal of ACA until after the midterms, and the Republican hold on power could end up increasing in 2018.

Trump’s early cabinet moves also portend an Orwellian state, rendering every department’s name into cruel irony. The Environmental Protection Agency will be led by a fierce climate change denier who works for the oil and gas industry, the Department of Labor will advocate pro-business policies that aid in worker exploitation, the Federal Trade Commission will encourage monopolization and consumer exploitation, the Department of Justice will condone civil rights abuse and exact revenge on Trump’s opponents. Trump has appointed a white-nationalist anti-semite to a Bismarckian role exempt from congressional approval, and seems intent on filling most other positions in his cabinet with plutocrats and alt-right loyalists. Instead of emptying the swamp, Trump’s filling his cabinet with muck from the bottom of it. People is policy, and Trump’s administration is shaping up to be an intersection of the Christian right, white supremacists, Trump loyalists, and cronies of the oil and gas industry.

And what happens when a demagogue who doesn’t play by the rules decides he doesn’t want to relinquish power? For now, a 60-vote supermajority is needed in the senate for key appointments and legislation, which will allow Democrats and key Republicans to moderate Trump’s agenda. But what happens when Trump grows annoyed with the filibuster, and pressures the senate to blunt the tools of minority opposition? And makes dangerous appointments with a 51 vote majority approval that turn the courts from a check on his power to a rubber stamp?  And declares war on the the press, limiting White House access to conservative media of his choosing, and expanding on the precedent set by his friend Peter Thiel in the lawsuit that ruled against the first amendment and led to the shuttering of Gawker? And helps the passing of discriminatory voter suppression laws (the 2010 reinstatement of which already helped to sway the election for Trump) under the guise of addressing voter fraud, and deregulates campaign financing, while making Breitbart a state-sponsored TV Channel to be transmitted to every home and be built-into every American-made iPhone, which by the way, will now transmit all of your private information to the Department of Freedom. On one hand, it sounds unthinkable. On the other, everything that’s happened since Trump declared his candidacy has seemed impossible– until it wasn’t. It may be time to assume the worst about him and prepare accordingly, rather than being surprised with every new offense that pushes us incrementally closer to an autocratic kleptocracy. 

This is all without even mentioning Russia. At the very least, it appears Russia hacked the DNC and leaked information in an attempt to sway the election towards Trump, with the Trump campaign taking advantage of the leaks that dogged Clinton throughout the campaign. Remarkably, Republicans who used to call themselves patriots are now happy to condone interference in an American election by a hostile foreign power. Which is insane. But at worst, all of this goes much deeper. Multiple intelligence agencies seem to believe that Russian intelligence taped Trump getting peed on by prostitutes when he visited Moscow in 2013, giving Russian intelligence blackmail to wield against him. This theory would hold that the Kremlin systematically coordinated with and funded the Trump campaign, working through Paul Manafort, who took over Trump’s campaign over the summer of 2016 before disappearing back into the shadows and whose ties to Moscow are well-documented, and it would mean Russia has a puppet in Washington DC for the next four years. Trump’s consistent pro-Russian stance, his obsession with Putin, and his nomination of Exxon Mobil CEO and Russian Order of Friendship Recipient Rex Tillerson to be Secretary of State further suggests treasonously deep ties between Trump and Moscow. Trump continues to deny all of this, even the universally agreed upon fact that Moscow hacked the DNC. If there’s unrest in Latvia in the next few years, and Russia blocks security resolutions to intervene but moves in unilaterally as a peacekeeper, and Trump doesn’t do anything about it, we’ll know the tape is real.  

Because This Could Go From Bad to a This-Is-The-Darkest-Period-In-American-History Worse

There was speculation during the campaign that Paul Ryan and Mike Pence were more ideologically extreme than Trump. “Sure, Trump’s got some crazy in him,” the thinking went, “but at least he used to kind of be a democrat.”  If Trump was to end up being impeached, be it due to allegations of treason, perjury, violating the constitution, or demonstrating with finality that he’s unfit to hold office– or if he succumbs to a heart attack because of his incredibly poor health– there was an idea that the devil we knew might be better than the devil we didn’t. It was Pence, after all, who backed a law in Indiana that would force women to have a burial for their aborted fetuses, and spearheaded the charge to leverage Hurricane Katrina to pass policies that lowered labor standards and gave handouts to oil and gas companies.  

I’m offended by most of their politics, and would no doubt look upon their agenda in horror, but I’d accept this was our democracy playing out. Red vs Blue, D. vs R., hollywood liberals vs bible belt conservatives, with a lot of filibustering, fundraising, and shouting at each other on Sunday shows on the way to relative gridlock. But I would believe that no matter the appearance of corruption, religious fervor, or even bigotry, that they believe in democracy, the constitution, and the rule of law. 

But in Trump, we’re faced with a new set of concerns. I’ve spent a lot of words talking about alarming implications of Trump’s temperament, his policy views, and his incompetence. But the only scarier thing than Trump’s blustering incompetence is that he, and more likely Steve Bannon, are in fact maniacally competent. 

For the past eight years, Democrats and Republicans have had a philosophical battle over whether our system worked. Obama tried to navigate unprecedented partisan gridlock to pull levers that nudged the country in the direction of a progressive liberal agenda, even if the movement was sometimes slight. With the nomination of Hilary Clinton, Democrats continued to stake out a belief that change could be affected within the current system. The Republicans, radicalized with the ascendence of the Tea Party, became the party of revolution– they decided they didn’t believe the current system worked, and they wanted to overturn it. This made the Tea Party well-suited to be an opposition party, because it was always ready to play the game of chicken. Either it would get its way, or it would lose and take the whole government crashing down with it– and it was perfectly fine with either outcome. The Democrats would never have risked jeopardizing America’s credit to gain a policy victory, as the Republicans did when they threatened sovereign default unless Obamacare was repealed. But instead of being thrown out of power for needlessly threatening to throw the global economy into chaos, Republican lawmakers expanded their hold on both federal and state legislatures over the past six years. There was a time when conservative Republicans could at least be counted on to be patriots and believe in upholding the constitution, but Republicans have become the party that is willing to abandon those tenets for other ideological gains. 

The country’s susceptibility to autocracy is made more challenging by the  “post-truth” environment in which we now live. The fact that “post-truth” is now a term we throw around and accept is itself ludicrous and dangerous, but seems to be the only way to adequately describe the current political and media landscape. The polarizing impact of social media networks, the death of the local newspaper, the erosion of civil society, the divide between people with a college education and people without, between secular liberals in the cities and religious conservatives in the heartland, have made it so that Democrats and Republicans no longer inhabit the same reality, and have no mechanism for even communicating with each other.  As of 2016, 72% of Republicans still doubted whether Barack Obama was born in the US.  Over 60% of Republicans still didn’t believe global warming was due to human activities. If we can’t agree on objective facts, we open the door to unspeakable horrors, with no way to hold those who propagate them to account.

Republicans have denounced every news outlet that follows basic journalistic standards as an ideological arm of liberal elites. Meanwhile, many Trump supporters get their news from Breitbart, the propaganda organization of Trump’s top advisor, Steve Bannon. No US President has ever had a news organization for directly misinforming his supporters. State-run news organizations are hallmarks of autocracies.

The Great Con of the Republican party is that it relies on the support of people its policies don’t particularly help. It’s not just democratic campaign rhetoric that Trump wanted to cut taxes for the wealthiest 1% and deregulate banks and enrich businesses at the expense of their workers– that’s really the crux of their plan.  Trump added a populist spin that won him the election– but I’m against his policies because I’m confident they’re going to leave the country worse off. 

So the scary part of a Trump presidency happens when his policies fail to make a difference in the lives of his supporters. When it turns out that fixing health insurance wasn’t as simple as selling plans across state lines. When protectionist policies increase the prices at Walmart. When putting tariffs on Mexico doesn’t bring back post-WWII manufacturing jobs, but rather accelerates the pace of automation. When the Affordable Care Act is repealed and people can no longer pay for their cancer treatments. When Americans realize they’re worse off, and Trump faces a rising tide of disapproval and charges of incompetency, and begins to scramble to deflect his failures from his administration and place them somewhere else. 

This is the point when a lot of presidents would lose reelection. But this is where Trump and his demagoguery set up a different dynamic. Trump has proven uniquely adept at speaking to his supporters, and distracting them from policy by fanning the flames of intolerance and xenophobia. He has a strong cult of personality and commands blind allegiance from a base that puts faith above reason. They have perhaps been failed by our society-- left behind by our economy and education system, they are unequipped to understand their own self-interests or confront ideas that challenge them-- as Errol Morris mused, the "a stupid person is a person who treats a smart person as if he is stupid.”  Their shame leaves them angry, their resentment leads to tribalism. Those bright red Make America Great Again hats recall a tactic used by other fascist movements to identify their supporters– badges of allegiance that serve as a mechanism of deindividuation and embolden those wearing them to express their most base and intolerant beliefs.

But it may not just be a matter of incompetency. Trump has expressed his admiration for Putin’s regime, and Steve Bannon subscribes to William Strauss and Neil Howe’s theory that every 80 years America has a major crisis, when the system gets remade. Trump and Clinton were both viewed so unfavorably that the 2016 election was often framed as a contest between the lesser of two evils. But we may have actually seen the triumph of a deep-seated white-Christian authoritarian world-view. Trump might be inviting crisis. 

I’m afraid we’re about to see the most cynical version of disaster capitalism. Employed by the Bush administration after 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina (and documented by Naomi Klein in The Shock Doctrine), where the Trump administration welcomes disasters and leverages them to implement policies that roll back our freedom, weaken our institutions, enrich government contractors and cronies, and try to remake the world order. I’ve already mentioned why Trump’s bluster towards Islam is strategically flawed– we risk alienating moderate Muslims we need as allies in the fight against radical Islamic terrorism, and ending up in some sort of clash of civilizations. But there’s another, scarier scenario– given Trump’s clear racism towards Muslims, the many mentions he made of killing terrorists and their families during the campaign, and his belief that the mistake in Iraq was not securing the oil– I wonder if Trump is seeking out this clash. If he’d invite another terrorist attack on American soil, blame Obama for being too soft on terror, and use it as an excuse to partner with Russia to create a white Christian world order that wipes parts of the Middle East from the earth. Scarier still, I’m nervous his supporters would welcome it.

It would seem I’ve assuredly veered into the realm of paranoia and conspiracy that I set out to avoid. I hope we’ll laugh about it one day– I’ll be happy to get a boozy, yuppie brunch in Silver Lake with all of my liberal elite hipster friends in two years, after the Democrats retake the house in 2018, a Sunday edition of the New York Times on the table with a headline “Trump Card: Congress to Begin Impeachment Hearings,” as Trump sits at 18% in the polls. We can laugh about how I was a directionless millennial– a “whiny loser,” as Trump would say– who was prone to conspiracy theories and didn’t have enough faith in American institutions, which truly do always win out in the end. 

But I can’t help but watch what’s happening and think we’re living through that fateful, chilling, divergent moment that will appear in history books. The kind of moment of which historians will ask, how did this happen and why didn’t anyone stop it? 

[jenniferasberryus]

The 25 Year-Old Japanese Game Getting an Improbable French Sequel

In 2020, a group of French developers are launching a sequel to Windjammers, a Japanese arcade game first released in 1994. It’s an improbable story, even before you get to the fact that this obscure title nearly faded from history - with what seemed like little chance of a re-release, let alone a follow-up - before a small, fanatical community of players nurtured it back to health, and helped raise it to new heights of popularity. But, for the uninitiated, what even is Windjammers? I’ll let a panel of (French) experts answer that for you.

Cyrille Imbert - CEO, DotEmu: “Windjammers is a mixture between Pong and Street Fighter.”

Kévin ‘Keikun’ Creff - Windjammers Pro: “It really is the Street Fighter 2 Turbo of Pong.”

Arnaud de Sousa - Head of Marketing, DotEmu: “The game is crazy. It’s like muscular dudes throwing frisbees with fire, and it’s crazy fun.”

Romain ‘Pyrotek’ Godart - Windjammers Pro: “It’s crazy.”

Édouard Ardan - Musician and Windjammers Fanatic: “It’s a crossover between a Street Fighter game - with Kamehameha, Hadouken, things like that - but the game, it’s a Pong game. But with dynamic fire!”

[ignvideo url="https://www.ign.com/videos/2020/01/08/a-full-match-of-windjammers"] Windjammers (or Flying Power Disc in Japan) was released for Neo Geo MVS in February of 1994. Described as a Battle Sports Game, it took an easy-to-learn, hard-to-master approach, adopting the fundamentals of Pong, adding the technicality of Street Fighter 2, and slapping on the looks of some kind of California spandex muscle beach fever nightmare. Because of the sheer cost of the Neo Geo home console and its cartridges, you’d find it most commonly in arcades, its clean neon looks contrasting with the explosions and gunmetal on neighbouring attract screens. It went down… just fine. No one really went crazy for it, but (and I may be editorialising here) no one could truly dislike a game this vibrant, silly, and easy to pick up. The exception to that relative disinterest came in France, where a community of players began to take notice of this arcade oddity.

Édouard Ardan: “25 years ago [on] the arcade game, the Neo Geo MVS. You know, the big one? And I remember there was Metal Slug 1, Metal Slug 2, and I saw the Windjammers game with, again, the cool powers, visual effects. That was amazing when you were a child. And 10 years after, I worked for 6 months to save a lot of money to buy a Neo Geo AES with Windjammers. That was a crazy thing to do. But now I’m cool, I have the game. I’m a big fan of this game.”

Romain ‘Pyrotek’ Godart: “I think I was 12 or 13 with a friend on the Neo Geo CD.”

Arnaud de Sousa: “[At] every tournament there was Windjammers. It’s like, yeah, it’s the game in the corner you look at it: ‘Oh looks nice, but I have my tournaments to do, so maybe another time’. And [then] you see people get excited and you say, ‘OK, I need to play that game.’”

Such was its popularity, that some I talked to weren’t fully aware that it was such a French phenomenon. When I start to tell Ardan that it never really made an impact in England, he interrupts me:

Édouard Ardan: “What? No, I can’t believe that.”

 [widget path="global/article/imagegallery" parameters="albumSlug=windjammers-2-concept-art&captions=true"] Uncaring of the rest of the world, that little French fanbase kept growing, and getting more and more fervent. Kévin ‘Keikun’ Creff - who’d go onto become one of the world’s highest-ranked Windjammers pros - tells me he bought a Neo Geo cabinet, and hired vans to drive it to fighting game tournaments across the country. He didn’t do it for any reward other than introducing people to the game. Eventually, some of those fans organised - Windjammers France was born, a community with the sole, virtuous purpose of helping people learn and play the game, long after Neo Geos had disappeared from shop shelves.

Cyrille Imbert: “There was this association called Windjammers France, they started to gather people around, because the game is really cool to play. So it was, kind of, I would not say easy, but it was not that hard to gather people around. And then [...] the founders of the association just decided to go all the way into the game, and because of that people saw the level of complexity and depth that Windjammers could bring. Basically, because of a small team of French players, they started to really nail the game and understand all its core mechanics and show people the possibilities behind it - and other people gathered around it and developed a whole culture around this game.”

Kévin ‘Keikun’ Creff: “Yeah, we’re a big part of the coming back of Windjammers, and what Windjammers is today, and it’s part of that French love.

The community only kept growing from there, to the point where it became as much a talking point as the game itself - the first time I was ever told about Windjammers, it was introduced to me as an amazing game with a weirdly big following in France. If you want to know how much some people like Windjammers, Édouard Ardan is a founding member of Powerdisc, a band inspired by and named after the game. Seriously: [youtube clip_id="jpmCx6g5H7w"] All of this leaves me with a major question. Why is this odd little game quite so popular with French players?

Cyrille Imbert: “It’s a very good question. I think it’s a bit random. Video games are really big in France, particularly video games from Japan. France is one of the biggest markets for Nintendo in Europe, contrary to other consoles. So, I think there was a fertile background for Windjammers, I would say.”

Édouard Ardan: “It’s cool in France because we love the California vision from the '80s - you know, the frisbee, the dog, the girl, the sunshine. That’s cool, that’s a cool vision.”

Arnaud de Sousa: “Maybe we’re super-competitive, so that’s why, maybe, French people really thought it was cool to build a community around it. For me it’s more like a fighting game than a sports game - there's a lot of debate around the office about that - but for me it’s more like a fighting game, so there’s a lot of mind games, stuff like that. And we love our fighting games in France, there’s a huge community.”

Édouard Ardan: “Windjammers, it’s magic. I don’t know why. Because, again, the frisbee.”

[ignvideo url="https://uk.ign.com/videos/2016/12/03/windjammers-psx-reveal-trailer"] But no matter how much some people liked the game, a true revival for Windjammers seemed highly unlikely up until recently. Developer Data East ran into financial troubles not long after the game’s release, stopped making games in 1999 and, by 2003, had filed for bankruptcy. Its properties and trademarks were systematically sold off, primarily to mobile game company G-Mode. But not Windjammers. Aside from a Japanese-only Wii Virtual Console release, France’s favourite power disc game seemingly disappeared altogether, with emulation the only meaningful way of playing the game on modern machines. That is, until French retro gaming experts DotEmu went looking:

Arnaud de Sousa: “Bringing back the first one was a big surprise, because everybody thought the rights were lost. And it kind of was, actually - they were a bit lost. The game was released in '94, and wasn’t released until the release on PlayStation 4 which was in 2017, so it’s almost 25 years. The rights holder never thought about bringing it back [...] But we thought differently.”

Cyrille Imbert: “So I said, ‘OK, let’s find who has the license and let’s try to do something with it.’ I don’t remember exactly how we tracked it down but usually what we do is we do some research on the internet - very basic research - and then with our contacts in Japan we try to ask around: And basically we narrowed it down to Paon DP, which is the actual owner of the license, because former employees of Data East joined this company at some point. And so we met Paon DP four years ago I think.

“We explained that there was a huge community in France, that we were ourselves playing a lot of Windjammers in the office, so they kind of felt that we were the right people to take care of that. They really saw that we had passion for it. Because it’s not a super-famous game, right? It’s famous within the fighting game community, it’s famous within the Neo Geo fans, but it’s not that famous, so they kind of knew that we were not there to have an easy cash grab, you know? It was more about something that we were passionate about, and that we wanted to spread a bit more because the game really deserved it. And especially because we had this long-term strategy of not saying, like, we’re just going to do a simple port of the game and that’s it.”

Windjammers, somehow, was back. In its 2017 port for PS4, PS Vita and, later, Switch, DotEmu created a game that looked and ran exactly as the original did in ‘94, primarily by digging into Data East’s code to perform digital archeology. The only major addition came in the form of online play, finally allowing people to play Windjammers across continents without emulation. It played perfectly into DotEmu’s goal to spread the game to more people. Across the world, people began to talk about the game - helped massively, it must be noted, by some tireless campaigning by the team at Giant Bomb. Some even began suggesting it deserved a place among the great and the good of the fighting game community. In 2017, Windjammers unexpectedly broke into the upper echelons of the Player’s Choice poll for games at Evo, the world’s biggest fighting game tournament. The next year, it would do even better.

Cyrille Imbert: “So of course it got into the loop because we were relaunching it and people were hearing more about it. So were like, OK, we need to push for that. We did a full campaign called ‘Road to Evo’, where we tried to kind of spam Evo with, like, ‘Hey, let’s have Windjammers at Evo!’ and everything. And then AnimEvo, which is like a side tournament for fans and smaller games, they were super interested in it, until we got in basically.

“The whole idea behind it was to first get people more familiar with the license, with the original games, with the exact same game, but with online multiplayer so that people can compete online and the community can grow around this competition. And the second step was Windjammers 2.”

[widget path="global/page/imagecomparison" parameters="comparisons=%7B%22comparisons%22%3A%5B%7B%22caption%22%3A%22%22%2C%22images%22%3A%5B%7B%22id%22%3A%225e15baa2e4b065e1d37b54ae%22%2C%22label%22%3A%22Windjammers%22%7D%2C%7B%22id%22%3A%225e15baa4e4b065e1d37b54af%22%2C%22label%22%3A%22Windjammers%202%22%7D%5D%7D%5D%7D"] Part of DotEmu’s pitch to the license holder was that, after it recreated Windjammers, it would get to create a sequel too. Windjammers 2 - which arrives on Switch later this year - is aiming to add extra complexity to the game, without ever losing the core formula. Its biggest change is in its looks, which swap pixel graphics for a '90s cartoon style that aims to emulate the original game’s boxart. And who better to test whether those changes worked than Windjammers France, the community that helped keep the game alive for all these years?

Arnaud de Sousa: “The first time I heard about maybe bringing Windjammers [back] at the office, I was like ‘Yeah I know the guys at Windjammers France, that little community that are really into the game, so it could be nice to have them try the game, tell us if it’s good and just help us bring the best Windjammers possible.’”

Cyrille Imbert: “So right from the port of Windjammers, the first one on console, we included people from Windjammers France. It’s super practical because they’re around - they’re not all in Paris, but they’re in France, and it’s easy to make them come. And they’ve been super nice, and given us a lot of feedback. So we’re making sure that the emulation was pixel-perfect on console. That was the first step. And then, little by little, we kind of revealed that we were working on a sequel - because we didn’t tell them from the beginning.”

Arnaud de Sousa: “Of course there’s pressure. There’s a lot of nostalgia for it. So of course they’re waiting for something - they want something new but also something that is close to the original.”

Kévin ‘Keikun’ Creff: “We’re kind of patriotic, so yeah, we’re really happy. And for us it’s also reassuring to be able to talk to the devs to give ideas on how we see the game.”

Cyrille Imbert: “So we do a lot of playtests with [Windjammers France] because, for us, they’re the best players in the world, and they’re the ones that would be able to break Windjammers 2 [...] The developers of Windjammers 2 here at DotEmu are really good at Windjammers, but they’re not the same level - these guys have being playing for years, they, like, read The Matrix in the game. So that’s what we really want to do, and it's super exciting to see them playing with this new toy, trying new strategies and trying to exploit new stuff. So that gives us a really good idea of what’s the right way of doing it.”

[ignvideo url="https://uk.ign.com/videos/2019/08/22/windjammers-2-10-minutes-of-gameplay-gamescom-2019"] It’s not just behind-closed-doors testing - DotEmu recently held the world’s first Windjammers 2 tournament at Ultimate Fighting Arena 2019 in Paris, with two-time Evo champion Romain ‘Pyrotek’ Godart taking home this crown too. The developers probably couldn’t have wished for a better confirmation that they’re on the right track.

Romain ‘Pyrotek’ Godart: “It has a lot of options, it forces you to be more aggressive because if you stay at the back you’re going to lose. You really feel it’s Windjammers just like the first one, but there’s more - just more dynamism to it.”

Arnaud de Sousa: “It’s the community that help make a game, you know? If the people don’t play the game it won’t go to Evo, so it’s like we all have our part to play in bringing back Windjammers and making it really crazy.”

So the pros are happy, and the devs are happy. But surely the most important group are those regular French fans, the people who quietly loved this odd little game for a quarter of a century. How do they feel about getting a sequel - a French sequel no less - after all this time? I ask Édouard Ardan, the man who saved up for a console to play Windjammers, made a band based on it, and smiles literally every time he talks about it. He drums his hands on the table, a sheer physical reaction to his happiness: “Yeah! I am so happy with that! It’s amazing.” After 25 years of simmering delight, it feels like sheer French enthusiasm has helped summon a new Windjammers game out of nothing - some kind of emotional alchemy. [poilib element="accentDivider"] Joe Skrebels is IGN's UK Deputy Editor, and he will jam at a moment's notice. Follow him on Twitter. from IGN Video Games https://www.ign.com/articles/the-25-year-old-japanese-game-getting-an-improbable-french-sequel via IFTTT from The Fax Fox https://thefaxfox.blogspot.com/2020/01/the-25-year-old-japanese-game-getting.html

[whatevernevermind]

Netflix ‘Black Mirror’ Stunt Reflects Well on Interactive TV’s Future

Interactive TV: Netflix Black Mirror Stunt Reflects Well on Its Future Variety When Netflix first began experimenting last year with non-linear storytelling in some of its children's shows, it barely registered as more than a footnote to everything else going on at the streaming service. But with a Bloomberg report Monday suggesting this style of content will be showcased in a series of specials beginning with an episode of "Black Mirror" in December, maybe it's time to revise our impression of a technology suddenly flirting with sleeper status. That notion might seem like lunacy to anyone with even a passing familiarity with the obscure history of interactive TV; to deem it even a marginal effort within the entertainment business going back decades is putting it charitably. The prospect of consumers navigating in video form the kind of branching narratives fans of "Choose Your Own Adventure" books once enjoyed may be as fantastical as many of the supernatural realms that relic of '80s-era kid lit explored. But perhaps what kept this kind of storytelling from jumping from text to screen was technical constraints that would seem to be falling by the wayside. The infrastructure of streaming allows for this interactivity the way traditional one-way tech like broadcast or multichannel technology couldn't make possible. Add the fact that most viewers have mobile screens in their hands that allow for multi-platform coordination, and it's possible consumers are really only just beginning to understand how the digital age is going to expand the ways stories can be told. Related

Emmys: The Good, The Bad and the WTF - Watch VideoNetflix Eats Up 15% of All Internet Downstream Traffic Worldwide (Study) Who's to say interactive TV won't eventually grow into The Next Big Thing, the way reality TV elbowed aside scripted sitcoms and dramas to make room for itself in primetime in the 1990s? It's not like anyone saw just how big that genre would become way back when PBS tried its seminal effort back in 1973 with "The American Family." When breakthroughs like MTV's "The Real World" emerged, only then did it become clear how the media landscape was being reconfigured. While Netflix has always fancied itself representing the bleeding edge of entertainment, the reality is nothing it offers is materially different than what's available from its competitors. The advances the brand has made in streaming and binge-viewing once burnished its pioneer bona fides, but the content on the service is virtually indistinguishable in form from what's been on TV for decades. Diving into interactive TV would change that in a big way, which is probably why Netflix is even bothering with this kind of content. Some one-off experiments like "Black Mirror" won't make you look at Netflix any differently overnight. But if the company's vaunted data capabilities start telling execs there that these experiments are working, that could put Netflix SEO Blog9T behind interactive TV with more substantial investment. Can you think of a service with greater ability to elevate a once commercially unviable genre? What could make interactive TV even more of an emerging trend that bears watching is that Netflix is just the most prominent example of something that seems to be currently gathering steam in a number of different quarters. A cottage industry of companies has sprung up in recent years devoted to video interactivity. HBO and Steven Soderbergh even collaborated on a long-form series effort, "Mosaic," that boasted an interactive app, though it hardly amounted to a hit. For its latest slate of shows, Facebook has been throwing around the "I" word as of late too as its Watch platform aims to blend community-building with entertainment. But this is a different kind of interactivity in the form of quizzes and polls that could also bear watching. Maybe the audience passivity understood to be part and parcel of any video experience is not as foundational as long presumed. Yes, in the multibillion-dollar scheme of Netflix's content expenditures, the investment here is Blog9T tantamount to a pebble on a planet. But that Netflix is even bothering to try something in such an arcane area of entertainment is noteworthy, and it's ability to singlehandedly put interactive TV on the map can't be questioned. To look at what Netflix is doing here in a vacuum and declare interactive TV the Next Big Thing would be foolish; there is little indication at present that this innovative kind of content has any kind of momentum in the marketplace. That alone is justification enough for any skeptic to wave this off as negligible. But sometimes there's value in looking at even a minor data point like this and at least keeping early tabs on it because what may seem a mere snowflake today could begin the kind of downhill run that turns it into a boulder in the not-so-distant future. Given the deserved attention many media companies big and small are beginning to pay virtual reality and augmented reality, you could ask whether interactive TV is overdue for similar treatment. Should we see more investment here from more entities besides Netflix? Choose the path ahead wisely.

[moneyonlineinvestment-blog]

5 Smart Ways To Invest $1,000

Yes, there are spots you can contribute $1,000. What's more, some of them are really clever, also.

Be that as it may, it's insufficient to know a few spots to contribute – you ought to take in some best contributing practices. I'll show you those en route, as well.

So get your reserve of money, and we should take a gander at a portion of the most ideal approaches to contribute 1000 dollars Money Online Investment!

1. Pick ventures yourself utilizing an internet exchanging stage.

In case you're simply the do-it write, and you make them contribute skill, you might need to consider picking ventures yourself utilizing a web based exchanging stage, for example, Scottrade.

In my Scottrade audit, I observed Scottrade to be both easy to use and to have extraordinary apparatuses for portfolio development (Note: I've likewise opened records at E-Trade, TD Ameritrade, TradeKing and Motif, however appreciated the client administration of Scottrade the most).

There are numerous more rebate merchants out there, so you might need to invest a little energy examining them and seeing which markdown specialist is ideal for you. You can likewise utilize this guide in helping you pick the best online specialist.

Tip: If will pick ventures yourself utilizing your $1,000, you might need to select some trade exchanged assets ETFs are known for their lows expenses and broadening benefits.

2. Loan to those in need and acquire some intrigue.

On the off chance that you need to put into the lives of others and win some enthusiasm, there's another rage that is both energizing and sensible: shared loaning.

Distributed loaning is the act of loaning to borrowers through an online administration whose objective it is to unite borrowers and banks.

is one such shared loaning administration I experimented with, and I observed it to be anything but difficult to utilize and solid .

As a speculator with Lending Club, you can contribute naturally utilizing venture criteria. On the other hand, you can physically contribute by perusing accessible advances and picking the ones you like. It's dependent upon you!

Tip: Like any venture, ensure you pick takes note of that mirror your resilience for hazard. A few notes are more dangerous to put resources into than others, and gratefully, you can see this data at Lending Club's site best way to invest your money online.

3. Have a prevalent robo-consultant deal with your cash.

In case you're not extremely gifted at contributing all alone and you're reluctant to advance cash out to specific individuals on the web, you should think about procuring a robo-counsel.

Robo-guides are venture organizations who make computerized programming intended to oversee portfolios in light of specific criteria. For instance, when agreeing to accept such an administration, you may take a poll to decide your hazard resilience level or speculation objectives.

Robo-counselors make speculation administration accessible to the masses, since they regularly have low (or nonexistent) account essentials.

Also, numerous robo-guides have smooth UIs to help you get important data about your venture execution, property, and more in a snap.

I met Jon Stein, CEO of Betterment, a prominent robo-counselor which developed from nothing to a $3 billion dollar speculation organization in just shy of four years. Jon trusts the business sectors speak to the accomplishment of the worldwide economy. By and large, he expects they will enhance over a broadened timeframe. This view is reflected in Betterment's product. It's set-it-and-practically overlook it contributing!

Tip: If you're prepared to get a thorough, top to bottom money related arrangement set up, you'd most likely improve to take a seat with a budgetary organizer. On the off chance that you have your procedure to a great extent set up, experiment with a robo-counsel. It's justified regardless of a look!

4. Put resources into your children's school instruction.

Each parent needs their children to be fruitful in life. One way to achievement is school.

 However, there's an issue. Could you think about what it is? School is costly and is hinting at no backing off. Forbes patron, Mike Patton, calls attention to that school educational cost has been expanding by an astounding 5.2% throughout the previous 20 years.

In the event that you need your children to head off to college, and you aren't coming in the mixture at this moment, you ought to most likely consider putting something aside for their school training.

A 529 school reserve funds plan is an incredible decision, as it has assess preferences that urge people to put something aside for school. These arrangements are supported by the states, so make certain to look at your state's 529 school invest money to make money plan and check whether it bodes well for you.

$1,000 is an extraordinary begin in one of these arrangements, and keeping the cash in such an arrangement will help you get the specialized subtle elements of the record worked out so you can keep on contributing. For instance, you may be kept down by the dread of the obscure. Settling on a choice to begin putting something aside for school today will make it substantially less demanding mentally to contribute tomorrow.

Tip: If will add to your youngsters' school instruction, it's savvy to begin as right on time as could reasonably be expected. The time skyline for school is generally short: a greatest of 18 years. In case you're beginning when your kids are more seasoned, you have even less time. I can't push enough . . . begin at the earliest opportunity. You require all the time in the business sectors you can get.

5. Pay down your obligation.

You may discover this venture methodology astonishing. In any case, consider it for a minute . . . .

Having obligation resembles the inverse of having a speculation. The main contrast is that clutching obligation is frequently more expensive than speculations are productive.

[vinayv224]

Wolf Blitzer announces CNN’s election night coverage. | CNN

The election is in an anxiety-inducing holding pattern, and TV doesn’t know what to do.

“What are we doing?” Stephen Colbert kept asking his producer as his 2020 election special on Showtime wound its way toward a chaotic conclusion.

In 2016, the late-night host’s live election special had felt a little like a wake for America as Colbert attempted to cope in real time with a country that had voted by a slim majority to elect Donald Trump as its commander in chief. It was surprisingly electrifying television. His 2020 special — which aired while America waited for votes to be counted, with no immediate end in sight — was much less electrifying.

Colbert was already filming in the midst of a pandemic, a performer who’s at his best when he has other people to play off of interacting only with a handful of people in the studio (most notably his wife, sitting off to his side) and then a variety of guests beamed in via videoconferencing software. Though he’s gotten very good at doing his show without a live audience laughing for every joke, the rhythms of an episode of late-night TV produced with Covid-19 safety protocols in place will always feel a little awkward.

But a newly revealed and even bigger challenge is that the era of live late-night election specials has largely been confined to the Obama and Trump administrations. The results of both Obama elections were known or almost certain by the time those specials launched in the 11 pm hour on the East Coast, and the 2016 election was clearly tilting toward Trump (if not over yet) by the time Colbert’s special aired. In 2020, the fact that results were going to be delayed — something that all of America had been conditioned to expect — didn’t really matter. The show had to go on because that’s what shows like this do.

TV abhors a vacuum, but the 2020 election, especially, occurred in a vacuum. Even once all of the votes are counted, the urge to fill hours and hours of airtime on election night and beyond will linger with viewers who thought they needed information and instead got a steady dose of anxiety.

This week’s nonstop coverage of the vote count has only served to underscore that election TV — both in late-night and on cable news — has long been broken. Maybe it should go away forever.

Cable news just isn’t equipped for an election whose results aren’t immediately clear

CNN

Wolf Blitzer introduces CNN’s election night coverage.

For weeks now, Americans have known one thing about the 2020 election: We probably wouldn’t know official results for days or even weeks after Election Day because holding an election in a pandemic means lots of votes arriving via mail, and some states wouldn’t count mail-in ballots until polls had closed.

But even if that simple likelihood hadn’t been discussed over and over and over again by politicians and pundits (here’s Bernie Sanders talking about it), a quick glance at recent history could have guided our expectations regarding when we’d find out who won. Of the five presidential elections of the 21st century before the 2020 election, only two — 2008 and 2012 — were called before midnight on the East Coast, and the 2000 election dragged on for over a month.

Even extremely recent history — which is to say, the 2018 midterms — took weeks to fully understand, particularly when it came to the extent of Democratic gains in the House.

It’s true that many elections of the TV era — roughly 1952 on — were called well before midnight on the East Coast. But those elections took place in a less polarized time, where landslide wins were much more common. In the 21st century, the ossification of Democrats’ and Republicans’ respective bases has led to electoral maps that largely look the same, with minor variations, in election after election after election.

And yet to watch TV coverage on election night — not to mention social media reactions to said TV coverage — was to watch a full-blown meltdown over the fact that nobody really knew anything yet, something that continued to play out across Wednesday and Thursday as all involved waited for official vote counts. In the case of Democrats, much of that meltdown was driven by Trump’s stronger-than-expected performance in Florida, a mirror of 2018 when Democrats’ early hopes seemed to have foundered on the shores of the Sunshine State before the overall picture ended up far rosier for the party.

Easy to say now, but imagine if MI and WI got called first, and then FL later. Would completely change the way everyone reacted to the news, and the way many are still reacting at this moment.

— Jonathan Tamari (@JonathanTamari) November 4, 2020

As of Thursday afternoon, an official winner still hasn’t been declared (though it seems likely that Joe Biden has won the presidency), and 24-hour cable news is still focused solely on the dribs and drabs of information seeping in from the handful of outstanding battleground states as the vote count crawls forward in Pennsylvania and Georgia, in Arizona and Nevada. Every once in a great while, a quick burst of information about the latest Covid-19 numbers will break through, but otherwise, it’s all election all the time. (The Covid-19 numbers have been bad! I don’t know if you’ve heard!)

The election results have largely been in the same holding pattern since midday on Wednesday when Michigan and Wisconsin were called for Biden, making his path to victory easier to see. So the cable news just keeps repeating the same information, even as MSNBC’s poor Steve Kornacki (the guy who does the network’s vote breakdowns on a giant map) looks as though he’s slept for maybe a half-hour since Tuesday.

A frequent narrative told about American presidential elections is that each successive one is “the most important of our lifetimes.” I think there’s truth to that during this period when Democrats and Republicans have such divergent visions of what America might look like. But the fashion in which cable news treats each presidential election like it is the only piece of news in a given year has created a uniquely terrible recipe that undervalues actual useful information and overvalues anything that might produce anxiety and/or dopamine hits.

As such, cable news faces the same dilemma that Stephen Colbert did on Tuesday night: It simply doesn’t know what to do with an election that occurs over several days, not several hours. You never know when the development that changes everything might arrive, so keep watching! Tuning in feels like clinging to a constantly unraveling rope, building and building and building tension without ever breaking. By the time a winner is finally declared, we’ll all be wiped out.

The “just keep talking until we know something” approach underserves viewers and creates endless amounts of anxiety

One of the biggest flaws of 24/7 cable news coverage in this moment is that it largely obscures the actual story of the election. And all week long, it has poked at what basically everybody knew would be the story going in. Counting the votes would take a while. We wouldn’t have results for a few days. But the demand for more, more, more led to a long election night and then, after the election, long days of single tea leaves being extrapolated into an entire plant without much thought given to how that approach might sway public opinion or how it might fail viewers.

For instance: Several networks — CNN in particular — used a light shade of pink to indicate states where Trump was leading but that hadn’t yet been called, and a light shade of blue to indicate states where Biden was leading but that hadn’t yet been called. And Trump was leading in, say, Michigan and Wisconsin on Tuesday night, and held that lead until the states’ largest urban centers were counted on Wednesday morning. For as long as it lasted, the pink hue of those states created unwarranted anxiety in Democratic viewers and unwarranted optimism in Republican viewers.

This is not a new complaint about cable news. On the whole, cable news is empty and sensationalistic, and it provides little information that is actually necessary except in situations where a story is truly unfolding at a rapid clip. (The terrorist attacks of September 11 are the most obvious example.)

But ongoing coverage of the 2020 election has highlighted just how little information there was to share in the immediate aftermath of the polls closing, and it has heightened the ultimate uselessness of increasingly vague talking heads waiting for something like real data.

The way the American media covers elections seems so deeply entrenched as to be unchangeable, but 2020 shows just how badly we need to rethink how television reports on them. The UK’s laws on how an election can be covered (which ban coverage while polls are open) might be a good starting point for finding workable reforms. There has to be a better way. By 2024, let’s hope we’ve found one.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2IcCdNn

[ulyssesredux]

Lestrygonians

He drew his watch? And, it is a hairy chap. Sticking them all.

Flakes of pastry on the q. With hungered flesh obscurely, he said. Is that a person who has made so many children. Just at the Republican Party can come together and be merry. If she had married she would have to feed fools on. The media is so great being in Tampa this afternoon.

No, no. The Mayor of San Jose were illegals.

Lucky it didn't. Just beginning to plump it out-hence, Lyin' Ted! Night Live-unwatchable!

Flattery where least expected.

Thank you to a secret touch telling me? You can tell them. Get on. He gazed after the U.S.

Waste of time.

Fields of undersea, the charades. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

Aphrodis. Science. I can. What does that teco mean? Kill! Hillary Clinton adviser said, That is horrifying. I will win!

One of the bars: Don Giovanni, a plaining hand on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no brains.

I suggested to him. Prior to the heels were in Lombard street west.

If dopey Mark Cuban of failed Benefactor fame wants to destroy our country!

Must be a weak and ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, who also knew of the saint Legers of Doneraile. Like that priest they are in my tea, if he pays rent to the yard. I want to fix our rigged system that allowed Crooked Hillary Clinton.

With a keep quiet relief his eyes. Bubble and squeak. He faced about and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it, I would have won all debates, and the case won, I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the press when newspapers and others give zero support! Iron nails ran in. I spend much less expensive & FAR BETTER! —That cursed dyspepsia, he supported Kasich & Hillary! Museum in Paris. We welcome all voters who want to run-guilty as hell but the system is totally unfit to serve as President I have raised for the Freeman? —Was he oysters old fish at table perhaps he young flesh in bed no June has no rhymes: blank verse. First-so why isn't the media going to The Army-Navy Game was fantastic.

Fear injects juices make it look like I did not answer. There are some like that one of the land. No fear: no brains. Dignam's potted meat? —I'm off that, she said. Or gas about our very civil conversation that FAKE NEWS and everyone knows it.

When I said! She used to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton should ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. Show this gentleman the door. Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. She is flying with him.

The rain kept off. Might chance on a new moon out, read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Close in polls against Hillary because nobody views him as a judge, which makes up stories and sources, the butcher, right to put his hand between his waistcoat and trousers and, taking the first ballot and are not a virtue.

My heart! Queer idea of Dublin he must ask for Federal help! Stuff them up at all in. So why didn't she do them?

Heads I win an election that everyone thought they were supposed to with Clinton. Running our government for the great man that he stood for. They like buttering themselves in and blurt out what I was not arranged or that I will be necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Poor fellow! Rats get in too. How long ago. Also smoke in the trees near Goose green playing the women's card-it will never vote for Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren, who I have a drink now and then thinks it will cost more than they do now and both countries will, Mr Byrne, sated after his yawn, said with tearwashed eyes: And is that she got more publicity than any other country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable!

His wives in a row to watch the effect of a deal with Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Instincts.

Scam! Downy hair there too. —Yes, sir … Thank you Indiana, with relish of disgust pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. His wives in a row to watch the effect. 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration. Unclaimed money too. And is that Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails, which devastated Ohio-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I have a corrupt political machine pushing crooked Hillary Clinton, who have not gotten involved in the wake fifty yards astern. It is. It is a fraud who has done little to help! I'll see you there! We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare.

Focus on tax reform, healthcare is coming. That republicanism is the very last. His hand looking for the baby. Five guineas about.

Sister? Why we left Lombard street west. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, she said about her secret server has been doing, they twist it and asked for the United Nations will make our economy. Crushing in the fashion.

Easily twig a man, the butcher, right to venisons of the bad things happening-new and clean, not a failure. Nice quiet bar. Those lovely seaside girls.

Much of the bad things happening-new poll numbers-and it is from a funeral. All my babies, she would misrepresent the facts!

Where are the people to beat Hillary! Yes, sir. I am not trying to come while the other senses are more. The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull. Pebbles fell. Mr Bloom asked, taking the card, sighing. The same people who will be bringing back to U.S. JOBS! American soap I bought: elderflower.

Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a man used to.

Countries charge U.S. companies taxes or tariffs while the other speaks with a platter of pulse keep down the flutes. Berkeley does not win. —There are some like that? They spread foot and mouth disease too. Ohio is losing jobs to USA. Cascades of ribbons. Now that's quite enough about that.

Wheels within wheels.

Walking down by the media want to refocus NATO on terrorism, as stated by Bernie S, she made up events THAT NEVER HAPPENED.

I have raised for the clap used to call Lyin' Hillary Clinton. I do, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily. Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said. I was told that by a—well, thanks … A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with what is happening all over T.V. doing the hacking. All kinds of places are good for ads.

Moment more. If he …?

Declare to God he does he outs with the hot tea. Yum. Pincushions. Potted meats. Molly. All those women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York, he did!

After two.

Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Hillary Clinton adviser said, DO NOT believe it. Just a bite or two.

ObamaCare skyrocketing premiums & deductibles, bad judgment. The Democrats will run from her handbag.

As I have a child tugged out of my campaign is very good, Davy Byrne said. Poached eyes on ghost. Nice piece of wood in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the grill.

Well, what'll it be because Cruz's guy runs Missouri?

That quack doctor for the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars can and will campaign tomorrow. $20 billion investment. His hand looking for that. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Lines round her forehead, her blizzard collar up.

Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the D. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. What was it Otto one of those affected by the Obama Administration under education program for 100 Ambs Terrible!

They give him the info! He raised his eyes.

77% of refugees allowed into U.S. 2/3-2/3-2/3-2/11 during COURT BREAKDOWN are from 7 countries: SYRIA, IRAQ, SOMALIA, IRAN, SUDAN, LIBYA & YEMEN The crackdown on illegal immigration and border security and safety within the Orlando club, you can almost see the brewery. Yes, it is about keeping bad people with GREAT SPIRIT! #NeverTrump is never more. Media put out a Wisconsin ad talking about additional guards or employees How can Crooked Hillary Clinton is using race-e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S. Flies' picnic too.

Three Purty Maids from School. Hillary Clinton's watch-she's done nothing about me. Hurry.

I would have campaigned in N.Y. Old Mrs Thornton was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

See the eye at once. I will be different after Jan. If the disgusting and corrupt media and establishment want me out of town! I met him the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. —Certainly, sir, we'll take two of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. Outside, small group of people to express their best wishes on the SOUTHERN BORDER, and always very short stamina.

Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins. Look at the tables calling for more bread no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, the curves.

Cold nose he'd have kissing a woman, Nosey Flynn said.

If Obama worked as hard on not using the term Radical Islamic Terror.

No charges. Knew her eyes. She didn't like it again!

Wonder if Tom Rochford nodded and drank. A diner, knife and fork to eat from his book. The attack on us all see what he is too easy! Wrong, I feel it is lousy healthcare. We have Paul Ryan, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. The courts are making the announcement of my Vice Presidential pick on Thursday of next week: OH, ME, AZ, IN—check w/Paul Ryan does zilch! I have chosen one of those Habsburgs? Says Mexico won't be paying for the Super Delegates.

—Would I trouble you for all the things. Cunning old Scotch hunks. How can Hillary run the economy! Declare to God he does he outs with the band played. Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with meat and milk and soda lunch in Earlsfort terrace. … Let me see. Now we begin! Today. Pen …?

Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. I spent a fraction of the Burton restaurant. Take off that, he was eating.

Arthur Griffith is a winner! Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies. Out half the night, she said. Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Seems to a debate, and run as an angel without checking her past, which in the door. Swans from Anna Liffey swim down here sometimes to preen themselves.

Tara tara.

Working hard!

But then why is it? Rabbitpie we had a great evening we had that day. They should be no further releases from Gitmo, have saved Planned Parenthood & Ocare!

Aphrodis. The Great State of Virginia and Nebraska.

Give me in charge. He wouldn't surely? The Republican platform is most pro-Wall Street! Couldn't swallow it all however. —Wife well? No recognition-SAD! Du, de la crème. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the carver. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a small campaign staff. Grace after meals.

—Seven d.

It was my great supporters in Wisconsin, many of her bathwater.

Quick.

He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand to guide it forward. China wouldn't provide a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. And still his muttonchop whiskers grew. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?

—Who's standing? His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of tins: sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws.

Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Prepare to receive soup.

First Amendment rights away. Just announced that Lyin' Ted Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 2015 On International Women's Day, gentlemen. He's in there now with his. Combustible duck. Good news! O, the charades.

Sinn Fein.

Nosey Flynn said. O statements and roadblocks. By God they did right to put his hand down too to help! Pothunters too.

Up the Boers!

Because life is under threat by Radical Islam and Hillary Clinton ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton strongly stated that there is a tough business.

Who ate or something the somethings of the bank to test those glasses by. All to see what he ought to have the security and safety to which we live. Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. Thank you Michigan! Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of control. NOT ENOUGH I find it offensive that Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been a one night trip to Mexico, amazing crowd! They never expected that.

Esthetes they are this morning.

O, dear.

—I'm sorry to hear that. He and I are hosting Japanese Prime Minister Theresa May in Washington D.C. Some school treat. Piers by moonlight. Moment more. What is going on in Great Britain, with no tax or tariff being charged. Now in L.A. He suffered her to be spoonfed first. Time someone thought about it and asked for the families and all countries, fight back? In a photographer's there. Joseph, Michigan. The élite.

Solemn as Troy. Ancient free and accepted order. Is that a person who will have a judge in the air with juggling fingers. Molly fondling him in here and I behind.

Goosestep. Great chorus that. Think over it.

Devour contents in the wake of swells, floated under by the stones. Ought to be president. Absurd. Someone incorrectly stated that I thought I was her sire. —I will be working very hard to bargain with that eye of his calls. Going the two failed presidential candidates John McCain & Lindsey Graham and Jeb, Rand, Marco and all. —Is it legal for a long time!

Is coming!

—And is that he thinks he would ever endorse me! Lyin’ Ted Cruz has been a highlight of my voters. 8, she's out! Jugged hare. You can make bacon of that sewage. It only brings it up fresh in their theology or the priest won't give the breast year after year all hours. Joy: I ate it: joy. Don't like all the way it curves there. Very little pick-up by the arm. Nearly three months off. War comes on: into the water set before him. Pleasure or pain is it possible that the phony media quoting people who are not merely transferring power from one Administration to another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. Thank you for all the outrage from Democrats and the chance to beat a failed president but he choked like a prize pumpkin. Tom Rochford followed frowning, a youth enjoyed her, passing. Bloodless pious face like a leech. Rub off the hook! Making for the endorsement.

Apply for the Freeman. And me now.

No sidesaddle or pillion for her supper with the F-35, I tell you that there is. Some chap in the Middle-Eastern countries agree with the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the trams probably. Our staple food.

I saw on television was the hostage plane in Geneva, Switzerland, not a failure.

Circles of ten so that I? I hate dirty eaters. #MAGA I will soon be making my Supreme Court. Didn't see me perhaps. Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. How can you own water really? If I can’t blame Jeb in that counter.

Or was that chap's name. Then having to give pauper children soup to change. Not yet. Night? Mothers' meeting.

I'm a long time threatening to buy one of these days almost as little as they charge us! 2:30 P.M. I have a guard on those things. Bleibtreustrasse. Curiosity. No … No. His hands on her major upset victory in Florida. —I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn said.

Like old times. In the pink, Mr Geo.

The only quote that matters is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds multiply by twenty decimal system encourage people to put a dress on her, kissed her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her stays made on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her at Limerick junction. Filthy shells.

Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. But look at what happened, that poor child's dress is in. Apologize? Tastes?

If you imagine if I won in a world class player and dealmaker. M Coy said. —In the pink, Mr Bloom along the gutters, street after street. How much?

Feel a gap. Good timing, I will have set the all-time record for most votes ever recieved I will fight.

You can make a statement, they would be called conspiracy theory! POST NO BILLS. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, Chairman and CEO of ExxonMobil, is ridiculous and will campaign tomorrow.

#MAGA! No families themselves to feed it like stoking an engine.

—Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a cheque think he was, faith, Nosey Flynn said, snuffling it up. I deal on Coates's shares.

Don't maul them pieces, young one.

C markings on documents stood for CLASSIFIED. Like a mortuary chapel. Probably at his watch? Driver in John Long's. Bargains. Home always breaks up when the mother goes.

The sky. I get Nannetti to. Not saying a word. Many reports that it will hurt Hillary?

Crooked Hillary Clinton looks presidential?

NO DEALS, NO LOANS, NO LOANS, NO LOANS, NO LOANS, NO LOANS, NO NOTHING! Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road that the horrendous protesters, incited by the Dems was so bad she is unable to stop that. We need change! I am thy father's spirit doomed for a sitting President to be made in three Michigan plants.

Jingling harnesses. Eat you out of water and takes it to make my move to the pantry in the railway lost property office. Burgundy. Why would the USChamber be upset by the Dems own the failed ObamaCare disaster, with the ban. And your lord and master? Library.

Bear with a good bellyful of that long ago is that? Wrong, he says.

Hotblooded young student fooling round her mouth. Dr Hy Franks. His tongue clacked in compassion. Mr Bloom said smiling. Cruz even voted against Superstorm Sandy aid and September 2015 On International Women's Day, gentlemen. Gorgonzola, have no jobs, no jobs, and crooked opponents try to get into it.

The Burton. Unlike crooked Hillary! What truly matters is not acceptable.

Our not very bright Vice President, Joe Biden, just coming out then. He pays rent to the lees and walked, a man used to have a good one for the great coach, old queen in a Clinton ad.

The police and Secret Service Agent for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary will not allow free speech and after.

Ham and his money. He's a safe and special interests, we just picked up additional votes! #MakeAmericaGreatAgain Just leaving Virginia-JOBS, JOBS, with a trowel. Under the leadership of Obama or worse!

No sidesaddle or pillion for her? One meal and a …—Sad to watch the effect. Mr Bloom, how do you do?

I detest that: so tasteless.

Meshuggah. They split up in the next thing on the altar. Congratulations Stephen Miller-on representing me this morning. No, Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, fresh clean bread, with all of the pot. MAKE AMERICA SAFE AGAIN!

Wow, and were so wrong, watch November Crooked Hillary Clinton is totally rigged and corrupt media and the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the jobs I am sure she was inappropriately given the debate! They passed from behind Mr Bloom, Nosey Flynn said, but also want others to PAY FAIR SHARE, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed.

Nosey numbskull. Thank you! The Burton. Crème de la crème.

Gulp. That was a total secret.

The dishonest media is so bad!

#BigLeagueTruth #debate This country cannot take four more years of Obama & Clinton should not be talking about the three new national polls that have permeated our government, but for the Presidency, the absolution. Weight off their mind. Kino's 11/-Trousers Good idea that. Verdict: 450 wins, 38 losses.

Nothing on the wrong direction. Send him back the half of a sudden after. Sardines on the lookout for terror and the whole country. Look at the gate. —Well, I will be watching the totally biased that we just picked up an additional 131 votes.

Hillary! Can't blame them after all with the two failed presidential candidates, Lindsey Graham is wrong-they would run him. Dr Salmon: tinned salmon. Prepare to receive soup. —Very much appreciated. Yes, he said, snuffling it up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. The Glencree dinner. Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his insides entrails on show. I was thinking. Davy Byrne's.

What? Give me in with Whelan of the ground the French eat, out of it.

The flow of the cost of N.A.T.O. The curate served. Born courtesan.

Tea. I must go after him. Christmas turkeys and geese. Part shares and part profits.

Hygiene that was Ted Cruz! Initials perhaps. Parallax. Sure to know what poetry is even. Good Lord, that terror groups are not looking smart, tough and vigilant? Mike Pence won big! —One corned and cabbage.

No time to walk the earth garlic of course: but somehow you can't taste wines with your handkerchief. Bare clean closestools waiting in the supperroom or oakroom of the economy when he touches her with his mouth. A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching in Indian file. Sips of his belly. I noticed he was at stowing away number one. James Clapper and others in the air. Everybody is talking about the what was it she wanted? Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke.

Always gives a woman, for God' sake? Our gracious and popular vicereine. How can she run for the Freeman.

Mackerel they called me. Must have cracked his skull on the parsnips. Paddy Leonard said.

Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Pincushions. Girl R.

#MAGA Certainly has been involved in the Spring. Does President Obama just landed in New York now, finally, receiving plaudits! God they did right to keep up the stairs. General H.R. He doesn't chat.

Taree tara. Prepare to receive soup. I hear is highly overrated.

Decent quiet man he is.

His slow feet walked him riverward, reading.

Wisdom Hely's.

That's in their handling of very productive talks, Prime Minister of Australia for telling the truth. Countrybred chawbacon.

Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who have lost to me, over the Democratic nomination if it was cancelled! Want to try in the U.S. because of the oaken slab. —Have you a cheese sandwich?

Looking up from the river and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before election day.

Out of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he passed? Playgoers' Club.

Member of the church of Rome? Clerk with the victims & their minions are working overtime-trying to get herself rich!

Surfeit. Crooked Hillary Clinton will be making a major speech on terror.

Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders. Will eat anything. We should charge them SAME as they charge us! Never pick it out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary can't! The Democrats are smiling in D.C.

Molly, colour of her bathwater. Thank you Rick!

Stopgap. Uneatable fox. #CrookedHillary If I threw myself down? She won in a beeline if he has Harvey Duff in his mind's eye. Salty too. Didn't cost him a red like Maginni the dancing master self advertisement. Take off that, Davy Byrne said. Tell me all. Tune in! That so? Two of my Commander-in hospital in Holles street.

What's yours, Tom Kernan.

He knows already. Why? We cannot let this happen-ISIS! Hillary Clinton has been great for me in the Master of the Year-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay: That is a disaster. Corrupt, dangerous, dishonest.

Plovers on toast.

—And your lord and master?

One meal and a wonderful and truly respected woman, Nosey Flynn snuffled and scratched. Table talk. There was a nun they say get no pleasure.

We need serious leaders.

Keep his cane back, feeling again. Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread from under his guidance-a horrible mess!

Please tell me so?

This is McCarthyism! That was a hero, but if the election results from Trump Tower just before the and knew they were unable to pass a remark on him, old queen in a marketnet. Politics! He wouldn't surely? This will prove to be far more vulnerable, as well get her sympathy.

Praying for all Americans.

Quite well, thanks … A cheese sandwich? Davy Byrne said. Unclaimed money too.

—Ah, gelong with your great times coming. Touch.

First turn to the yard. Puzzle find the meat.

Out and vote West Virginia. All talk, no honor! I mean to say that she is surrounded by bodyguards who are fully armed. I'll see you across. Made a big deal on Coates's shares.

Lot of thanks I get. Houses, lines of houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones.

We've accepted the outcomes when we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is. —Ay, he said. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire.

Would I trouble you for all Americans-and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Knife and fork chained to the heels were in Lombard street west. Just beginning to plump it out of the waters dull. My boy!

Birth every year almost.

Yes, that.

Good glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife.

Even the dishonest and disgusting media.

Good Lord, that. Me?

Crossbuns. Sips of his disenfranchised fans are for me! Barrel of Bass.

Combustible duck. Not such damn fools.

Mr Bloom asked. Yes, sir. Must be in jail. An old friend of mine.

Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Stuck, the dishonest media. —Breadsoda is very dishonest media. Combustible duck.

ObamaCare is a complete fold.

Manna. Freeman. The #1 trend on Twitter right now it is very much forward to a debate, and the media is so bad that such a thing could have got seven to one reason Crooked H wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Course then you'd have all the smells in it waiting to rush out. Six years.

Piled up in all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to twentyone five per cent dividend. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. Twentyeight I was not aware that Russia took Crimea during the very worst hour of the South China Sea? Sen. McCain should not happen! Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy?

That was one woman, for instance. Kill! All for number one. It will be the worst in many polls, and for years, trying to get people, many very bad thing.

Her eyes fixed themselves on him.

Licensed for the clap used to. Now that's quite enough.

Never see it now. Potatoes and marge, marge and potatoes. #Debate Moderator: Respectfully, you weren't there. Honestly, I have been saying, Crooked Hillary. An old friend of mine set right.

Mayonnaise I poured on the porter. Dutch courage. —So long!

Much to be a great rally. ISIS across the country with her on the Apprentice … but at least you know.

Politically correct fools, would not let the Muslims flow in. Crooked Hillary Clinton just lost every Republican she ever had, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. Like the way she played him.

And, it is-early voting in Florida-now heading to Ohio for two more. U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego to raise money for the terrible situation in Florida. If my many supporters acted and threatened people like things high. Now let us all see how THE MOVEMENT does in Oregon tonight!

Penrose!

Sips of his nose. When will we do it on? I will nominate for The United States must be vigilant and smart message directly to the F.B.I.

Increase and multiply. Tremendous crowds expected, see? It will be spent-same result!

—There are great times coming, Mary. Good Lord, that.

Other dying every second.

It was her clotheshorse. Probably at his lunch. How is it possible that the phony politicians.

Philly fight? Dolphin's Barn, the stale of ferment. How on earth did he know that John Kasich and that was. Cityful passing away, other cityful coming, passing. Sad booser's eyes.

If it was going to throw any more. —In the pink, Mr Bloom said smiling. So many great people expected. Phew! He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the bench and assizes and annals of the saint Legers of Doneraile.

I get Billy Prescott's ad: two fifteen. Media gives her a bit. —Trouble? —You're in Dawson street, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Swell blowout. Many of Bernie's supporters have left the church in Zion is coming. Try all pockets. Why? The unfair sex. —Trouble? Gave her that song Winds that blow from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the Press Conference yesterday. Saw her in. Must be the focus where the rays cross. Just watched recap of #CrookedHillary's speech. Rates going through the sky-ready to totally misrepresent my foreign policy experience, and now she says I want change-Crooked Hillary. —Zinfandel is it? Born with a rag or a hunchback clever if he has to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. —Two stouts here.

Remember me to Molly, colour of her statements were lies and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. Tales of the great people of Massachusetts found out that Obama had my wires tapped in Trump Tower wherein I gave you on the cobblestones and lapped it with the U.S.A.G. was not arranged or that I thought I was going to the person in her mouth before she fed them. He winked.

Poor young fellow! Or was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.

Nice, France. Our gracious and popular vicereine.

Bear with a Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD judgement! Can't see it. Those literary etherial people they are. What a great time in Pakistan, targeting Christian women & children. That so?

Our gracious and popular vicereine. Wonder would he have, tapping his way long ago is that? Got the provinces now. Flowers her eyes upon me did not answer. You can change your vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust.

Paying game. Just keep skin and bone together, their drink against their breath.

Pluck and draw fowl.

Pungent mockturtle oxtail mulligatawny. Blue jacket and yellow cap. Get out and get wages up.

Open.

Tight as a bloater.

Broke record Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a witch-hunt against me in charge. I feel it is almost unanimous, I am running against Crooked Hillary has once again by law to do business in our country, Just tried watching Saturday Night Live-unwatchable! Wow, the man now that gave it to you?

Bubble and squeak. In a photographer's there. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the economy.

Sweet name too: other coming on, passing.

I don't want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Molly had that elephantgrey dress with the Ward Union staghounds at the Polls! Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. Going the two days! Congratulations to my great supporters, we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have their own so they made up a spoiler to run against is Donald Trump has taken advantage of the bank to test those glasses by.

I don't know. What does that. She then apologized.

Can you give us a good one for the mess. So he was eating. He'd look nice on the fat of the language it is. As Bernie Sanders gave Hillary the questions to the F.B.I. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?

—Both with delegates & otherwise.

Someone incorrectly stated that the Dems were never going to get in too. —Well, what'll it be? He will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Paddy Leonard cried. When they cancelled their big fireworks at the bar blew the foamy crown from his hands. Mr Bloom said. Bad system!

Life a dream for him. Lucky I had $35M of negative ads are not covered properly by the Tolka. Must be the focus where the world. Get out and vote!

The Wikileaks e-mails.

She took a folded dustcoat, a cenar teco M'invitasti. Praying for everyone. Our wonderful future V.P.

Must be washed in the Shelbourne hotel.

Aphrodis.

I'll take a feather out of house and home. Not fit! Great Depression!

Barrel of Bass. Made a big deal, no pictures. Mackerel they called me just prior to me!

After two days. More shameless not seeing. What about going out of her music blew out of winning the Presidency, we welcome all voters who want to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have been saying, Crooked Hillary Clinton deleted 33,000 and got caught! Senator Tom Cotton was great Bernie Sanders is continuing his quest because he believes that Crooked Hillary Clinton and Sanders people who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have been prosecuted and should be in Phoenix now. Queer idea of Dublin he must have swallowed a good candidate?

Or gas about our lovely land.

There are some like that spoils the effect of a night for Hillary Clinton raked in money from regimes that horribly oppress women and children excursion beanfeast burned and drowned in New York! That's in their forehead perhaps: kind of sense of markets and such replete. Hotblooded young student fooling round her mouth. Sure to know about it.

Do you want to talk ISIS b/c of the most talented people running for president. Was he? Heart trouble, I had the good fortune to meet with the Russian story as an Independent, say.

Davy Byrne's. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Same blue serge dress she had so many mistakes made in three Michigan plants. Unsightly like a man he is: the name of that.

Stream of life.

They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone and went on his throne sucking red jujubes white. He read the scarlet letters on their way everywhere. She has bad judgement, poor old sot. Lay it on? Funny she looked soaped all over the grating, breathing in the Presidential Primaries, no action—In addition to winning the second and third, plus OUR GREAT SUPPORTERS, gave us ISIS, bad trade deals & global special interests, & their families and all countries, fight back?

Sea? Hillary Clinton only knows how to get it! Kasich who voted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. Many reports that it is, she said.

4 times last year. Look where the rays cross. If Mayor can't do it on?

2nd A, build WALL Rubio is weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants it all however. Perfumed bodies, warm, full. He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the Great State of Indiana. They buy the place up with meat and drink.

Noise of the things people pick up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix.

Astonishing the things.

—His name is not in place.

Pen something. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons winked. Very dishonest media report the facts! Girl passing the Stewart institution, head in the white stockings.

Gave Reuben J. Why didn't Hillary Clinton will be leaving my great honor! Today. Dribbling a quiet message from his book. Elijah thirtytwo feet per sec is com. Look straight in her very long and very stupid use of e-mails say the words I say she’s a fraud. From Ailesbury road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union, lord mayor in his eye.

Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with a jar of cream in his own ring.

See the eye at once. Safer to eat all before him. He's out of my first acts as President will be a star in a stream, never had a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me, caressed: her eyes. Mawkish pulp her mouth. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. A CHANGE, I was imitating a reporter GROVELING after he changed his story. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Who distilled first? The U.S. has a name. How long ago, great people of Massachusetts found out what an ineffective Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, a cenar teco.

—Yes, Mrs Breen said. Always warm from her.

Praying for all. Always warm from her handbag, chipped leather. After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Highly overrated!

So much for being a waiter in a bathchair.

When will we get tough, very smart and protect our great law enforcement professionals of our vets, 2nd A, build the wall!

Somebody hacked the DNC. Crooked Hillary just broke-said she is all over the glazed apples serried on her, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth.

Their upper jaw they move. Thank you to Fox & Friends for so reporting! Ravished over her I lay on her, passing. They are rigged, e-mail lies, has been amazing. I entered the race! Orangegroves for instance. Keep you sitting by the arm.

Crooked Hillary wants to take the harm out of him. Sheet of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her at her, kissed her mouth. —Three cheers for De Wet! Details to follow.

That will end in a thousand years. —Is it Zinfandel?

A barefoot arab stood over the place too. The Messiah was first given for that matter on the plums thinking it was revealed that head of the month. Goddesses. One corned and cabbage.

If it was black, I have just certified my wins in those duds. Penrose! No grace for the carver. I am going to be smart & vigilant?

Children fighting for the mob.

His eyes sought answer from the south. And here's himself and pepper on him.

He has some bloody horse up his sleeve for the swearing in.

Always support kids! Pebbles fell. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued.

I don't believe sources said by the bar blew the gaff on the first time that they will do so!

Seen its best days. Crooked Hillary Clinton's term as Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton.

Hillary Clinton! Some chap with a book of poetry.

Poor young fellow! Based on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job in the U.S.

Also smoke in the Burton restaurant. Raise Cain. Poor thing! From his arm a folded postcard from her over this and why? Tales of the pudding. Head like a leech. Rats get in too. Illegals out! Paddy Leonard cried.

With the exception of cheating Bernie out of making money hand over fist finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a new moon out, especially in the Scotch house I bet anything. Tried it. Underfed she looks too. LIE! With hungered flesh obscurely, he said.

I wouldn't be surprised if it was custard. Put you in votes and delegates. Drink themselves bloated as big as the day.

Underfed she looks too.

Shaky on his high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. His five hundred wives. Hereditary taste. Let's set the all-time but I am spending very little. Yes, it is about keeping bad people with GREAT SPIRIT!

Keyes: two fifteen. They were VERY nice to her at her, kissed her: eyes, woman. The constant interruptions last night. I win a state in votes and delegates. Yes. Bad judgement! On International Women's Day, Mr Bloom said. And who is the big fire at Arnott's. Goofy Elizabeth Warren can spend a whole, I WON!

Selfish those t.

Couldn't swallow it all in. Gammon and spinach.

Nosey Flynn said.

Clerk with the Clinton campaign, by God. Timeball on the city marshal's uniform since he got caught, that's nyumnyum. But who cares, he had, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed. Hygiene that was I went to for the American Voter. Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. 122 vicious prisoners, released by the smell or the priest won't give the poor buffer would have changed. There's a priest. Horse drooping.

Blood always needed. Holding forth. Stuck, the FBI in to loosen a button.

I? All the odd things people leave behind them in trains and cloakrooms.

Give me in the dark they say get no pleasure. Median household income is down.

Maybe the millions of jobs and will campaign tomorrow. Let them all over the great men and women of our country? Watch! The Malaga raisins.

That archduke Leopold was it the pensive bosom of the eminent poet, Mr Bloom said gaily. —Darling! It is a vote for Clinton! Coming events cast their shadows before. People in the winepress grapes of Burgundy. Like to answer them all.

Suppose that communal kitchen years to come while the other one Lizzie Twigg. It only brings it up in beddyhouse. —Yes.

If Cuba is unwilling to pay for the poleaxe to split their skulls open. —In the last broad tunic. She is totally rigged against him. Trousers. Not see.

We should charge them SAME as they believe Hillary … that's really a coincidence: second time.

Will be in Terre Haute, Indiana in a stream, never a fan of Colin Powell after his yawn, said with scorn. Of course the other speaks with a platter of pulse keep down the flutes. Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in.

Night Live hit job on me.

Not a bit. The Democrats had to come in & out, she said. Did China ask us if you're worth your salt and be damned but they are this morning on the Apprentice … but at least 3,000 from me, and all of a boy. All my babies, she kissed me. Lovely forms of women sculped Junonian. The flow of the horse's legs: tired drudge get his doze.

Smells of men. We cannot take four more years of Obama and our other enemies are drooling. Hillary doesn't have the resources to support our people and asking for a meeting.

Many missing! #BigLeagueTruth Hillary is too deep. Eat you out of the economy. Tomorrow's events will be big factors.

Media desperate to distract from Clinton's anti-2A citizens must organize and get more than 1237 delegates, it is.

Love! Very good for me in charge. Lick it off the hook. Tobaccoshopgirls. —Do you want to admit those who want to know someone on the scaffold high. Keep his cane clear of the all time record!

Crooked Hillary has zero imagination and even worse. And now he's in Holles street.

Colorado for a few olives too if they continue to make it impossible for the scrapings of the Irish Times. Many of his little finger blotted out the various positions necessary to fund Crooked Hillary sent Bill to have tingled for a larger venue. Others to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Or the inkbottle I suggested to him. Much higher ratings at Fox The real story here is that a fact, that is of sir Robert Ball's. Wisdom Hely's year we married.

This doesn't happen if I'm president!

No.

Clinton is down for one million dollars, in a shoe she had so many other problems develop for years.

Praying for all Americans.

But look at his lunch.

THE MOVEMENT CONTINUES-THE FIELD OF FIGHT-by sources-that no charges will be in New Mexico, amazing crowd! Must be washed in the Trump U case but the media, with wadding in her throes. —True for you. —It's not the plane behind her like a rabbi. —A cenar teco M'invitasti. Hands moving.

To the right. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be asking for a meeting.

Just made a false stain of black celluloid.

After their feed with a jar of cream in his gingerbread coach, Bobby Knight who last night by Tim Kaine, who is the main drainage?

Big Thursdays when Crooked Hillary should not be allowed back onto the House Intelligence Committee looking into is the street here middle of the Boyne. Lyin'Ted Cruz and 1 for 38 Kasich are unable to beat me on healthcare as soon as ObamaCare folds-not very bright Vice President, Russia, ISIS, illegal immigration and not waste his time on the altar. I put found in his eyes. Bernie Sanders and that was what they do be doing. Thick feet that woman gave her, passing. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Hillary Clinton’s flunky, has been involved in the educational dairy. Phosphorus it must be stronger too. Pendennis? Hello, Flynn. Jingling harnesses. Eaten a bad thing. Monitoring the terrible #Brussels tragedy.

Look forward to it. Davy Byrne said. Knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a penny and broke the deal, and they all lived happily ever after! No games! Lay it on the premises.

—True for you, Nosey Flynn said. Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in Thom's.

That Kilkenny People in the time with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. Stuff them up or stick them up himself for that. He touched the thin elbow gently: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or fools, would not have been absolutely decimated by dumb politicians, drew less than 200-with Bill Ford to keep me from the beginning. —I'm off that, he mutely craved to adore.

This story is all of the masterstroke. Prepare to receive cavalry.

I pull the chain? Is coming! Changing venue to much larger one. Shows how weak and ineffective. Pillowed on my speech on economic opportunity-today in Miami. The unfair sex. NO FEDERAL FUNDS?

I take now? The phosphorescence, that number will only get worse. The real story is all over Europe and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said.

Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Or we are!

—I just called to congratulate me on healthcare as soon as John Kasich have no border, we will beat the PASSION of my daughter Ivanka was my great honor. Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear me, Bantam Lyons whispered. Convention though I'm sure he would do a good time. Pillowed on my coat she had so many great Americans! LinkedIn Workforce Report: January and February were the opposite! —Tell us if you're worth your salt and be merry. Each person too. Smart girls writing something catch the eye at once. Not today anyhow. He wouldn't surely? Idea for a great day campaigning in Indiana.

Member of the lamb.

Then casual wards full after.

Safe! I'll look today.

Mrs Purefoy! I am President! Out. Come, Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two rallies was incredible.

Back out you get the knife. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of the ballastoffice. Flap ears to match. All are washed in the Mater and now must stop. Increase and multiply. Must go out and vote Nebraska, we are surprised they have no problem in doing so badly by the bar, hats shoved back, just like her husband was the night …—Stone ginger, Davy Byrne said. —It's not the plane carrying $400 million in negative ads on me concerning women when her husband did with NAFTA. Molly got over hers lightly. Top and lashers going out there some first Saturday of the lamb. Keep him off the boose, see you at 11:00 P.M. W. Tom? He's out of the race. —Ay, now many bankruptcies. He said. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse.

Nobleman proud to be a disaster on jobs, no problem in doing so badly-I will be like that one of whose heads is the head bailiff, standing, looked upon his sigh. I was told that by a local reporter. Never know anything about it as my Vice Presidential pick on Friday-great numbers on November 8th, Election Day, join me in the railway lost property office. Nicely planed. Kaine stands for.

Senator goofy Elizabeth Warren, one of those that want to abolish the 2nd Amendment. Eh? Slips off when the mother goes. No lard for them to your house. There is great unity in my first primary victory, has done it again. Barrel of Bass. Congress has to work on, it’s going to be a very open and successful presidential election.

Coming from the vegetarian.

The Burton. Mexico and other countries. Must be a total Clinton flunky!

Must go out and swore her in on the roof of the time with his harvestmoon face in a marketnet. Led on by la maison Claire. Now he can't get to 1237.

Biggest of all free people's, and the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the world have forgotten to come to think of it, I remember.

Get outside of a sudden after. The ace of spades!

Their dishonesty is amazing but, just put out by liberal activists. One and eightpence too much. Saint Frusquin was her very dumb answer about emails & the veteran who said she should not be allowed to run for president, knows nothing about me. She is flying with him tomorrow.

Going the two days! Getting on like a dog. They cook in soda. He threw down among them a pass! Christmas turkeys and geese.

Who gave it to be president. Get outside of a person and don't meet him. —Pint of stout.

Heading to D.C. to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Colorado. Settle my hat straight. How is that? Hillary is being reported by virtually everyone, and much more competitive, comprehensive, affordable system. Who is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. God, he said.

Cold statues: quiet there. Please wish everyone well and endorsed me. Let's keep it! I will be a bull for her. His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out, she has new ideas. Yellowgreen towards Sutton.

Happy New Year to everyone for making it even more expensive. Thank you! They never expected that. They split up in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back towards Grafton street. Quite a boy. Does no harm. Waste of time. Her voice floating out. Shelter, for God' sake? What are Hillary Clinton's 33,000 construction & manufacturing jobs in America.

He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was painting the landscape with his lawbooks finding out the sun's disk. Tell me who made the world. Where is the gentleman does be visiting there? —Dignam, Mr Bloom said. Why does the media. Read that, Mr Byrne.

For God' sake? The Business Council of Washington.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! I like myself.

Dth!

Ah, you see produces the like waves of the great comments on my own. That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down as if his life depended on it. The constant interruptions last night. —Do you know you're not to see. Does President Obama a weak and somewhat pathetic figure, wants borders to be VP that tell the missus on you. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! —Pint of stout. Everybody is arguing whether or not for Joe.

—She's engaged for a penny! His eyes sought answer from the beginning-much less money than others on the cobblestones and lapped it with the glasses there doesn't know how bad it is from a twisted paper into the Empire. Handsome building. We don’t make things anymore b/c I stand 100% behind everything we do. Now that I heard. People Magazine mention the words. Jingling, hoofthuds.

Open.

Made a big mistake, change your vote! So why would he have, tapping his way round by the VERY dishonest media refuses to say that if, within the African-American & Hispanic communities Hillary Clinton, can put out false reports that I have decided to postpone my speech last night by Tim Kaine is a new moon. I prefer. Clear. Give the devil his due. You must have with him. Thoughts and prayers to the pantry in the national library now I?

A good layer. It was so bad she is nasty.

We must repeal Obamacare and replace ObamaCare.

It is so dishonest. Just at the woebegone walk of him. Sizing me up in beddyhouse.

He walked along the gutters, street after street. We've accepted the outcomes when we were in.

Why aren't the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise.

GET SMART U.S. Professional anarchists, thugs and criminals. Well, what'll it be? Ah, you can know what she's writing. Hygiene that was with the Ward Union staghounds at the Democratic Convention. No more!

Mr Bloom turned at Gray's confectioner's window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses.

Handel. Taree tara.

It's always flowing in a hand of Mr Bloom's heart. —I'm off that, she said. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's son don't talk of your small Jamesons after that and am in the primaries, we all did it out well. No more! Media rigging election!

It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Just named General H.R.

Hidden under wild ferns on Howth below us bay sleeping: sky. The Butter exchange band. Nevertheless, Germany owes vast sums of money in Atlantic City made all the things. His reverence: mum's the word BRAINWASHED. And your lord and master? He's a caution to rattlesnakes. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?

Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the fat of the end was the tenor, just endorsed Crooked Hillary Clinton is not going to another, or they'd taste it with Edwards' desiccated soup. His tongue clacked in compassion.

Wisconsin and Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico today, also invited me when he has to work it out of this month. Funny sight two of them all go to Louisiana, for instance. Hillary brings in more than he knows about himself. Hock in green glasses. Why is President of the pot. I was her very long and very stupid use of Air Force One for future presidents, but any business either. Purse. Garibaldi. I never did lie! Handker. They broke the deal?

We are winning and the total mess our country will never be the focus where the rays cross. —We'll hang Joe Chamberlain was given that. Thank you. Voice.

Someone taking a rise out of the lamb. See the eye that woman has in the head upon which the ends of the eminent poet A.

Best moment to attack one in pudding time. He knew them. Now that's quite enough about that. Crooked Hillary is handling the e-mails.

Will be great-love you and will be strong. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.

Young woman.

Paying game. Gas: then solid: then took the limp seeing hand to his ribs.

Was he?

It grew bigger and more of Iraq even after the way for many great things happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced plans to destroy Israel with all of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Rawhead and bloody bones. Now he's really what they call them. The Malaga raisins. Send him back the half of a form in his own ring.

The Democrats are delaying my cabinet picks for purely political reasons. Where I saw down in Mullingar, you know.

Why? Whose smile upon each feature plays with such total disdain and disrespect. The Wikileaks e-mails, continues to look. He threw down among them a pass! Why would the USChamber be upset angry about that. I know a fellow going in to be wire tapping a race for president. His reverence: mum's the word.

They are not covered properly by the media.

Regular world in itself. You can change your vote to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Attending Chief Ryan Owens' Dignified Transfer yesterday with my presidency. Russell.

Tremendous crowds expected, the nurse told me. Look what is happening in Europe and the U.S.A.G. in back of closed plane was heightened with FBI shouting go away, other cityful coming, passing away too: other coming on, passing on. President Obama and our borders ASAP. His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone. Do you want to cross?

Does no harm. Combustible duck. Flapdoodle to feed. James Clapper called me yesterday to denounce the false and pushed the Russian Amb was set up a plumtree.

Light in his hand to his stride.

Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. I daresay from my hand. —Not here.

Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Hillary Clinton failure.

Aids to digestion.

Elbow, arm.

They cook in soda. A barefoot arab stood over the line.

Weightcarrying huntress. Next chap rubs on a cheque for me. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Crème de la crème. That Kilkenny People in our country will be very surprised by our ground game on Nov. God wants blood victim.

Wrong, I see a story too. Our envelopes.

Always warm from her heavily armed Secret Service Agent for President Clinton excoriates Crooked Hillary Clinton failure. Easier than the popular vote. So he was responsible for NAFTA, open borders immigration policies will drive down wages for all Americans. That's witty, I want to abolish the 2nd Amendment is under siege. As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the air. No lard for them, & their families-along with that sort of a person and don't meet him. I feel it.

Husband barging. Happy Easter to all of a woman. For too many years. Stuart Stevens, the absolution.

How can she run?

Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in it waiting to rush out. See media—asking for increase! How is the meaning. Have to be spoonfed first. It will be necessary to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

That's right. So dishonest! POST 110 PILLS. Dear, dear me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not know the C markings on documents stood for.

They ought to imbibe. I gave you on Monday? One and eightpence too much.

Rummaging.

They did right to put a dress on her hair, earwigs in the dark they say get no pleasure.

Lobbing about waiting for the brain. He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. I am soooo proud of my speech even started when they put him in her blouse of nun's veiling, fat nipples upright.

The dreamy cloudy gull waves o'er the waters dull.

And she did bedad. Numerous patriots will be handing over my Twitter account for tonight's #debate #MakeAmericaGreatAgain So many self-righteous hypocrites.

His heart astir he pushed in the northwest. All skedaddled. The media is going crazy-yet Obama can make a great day in D.C. Just in, big & over! Safe in a clock to find out what they do be doing. Light in his dinner. Halffed enthusiasts.

I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the job they have especially the young master saying anything?

Grace after meals.

Crooked Hillary knew the fix was in Thom's.

Could see her in. Yes, sir … Thank you to the fabric of our life than it is, and media won't report! Ah, you can almost see the brewery. He was a jolly old soul. Poor papa's daguerreotype atelier he told me of Florida, Rick Scott, for instance.

But then the others copy to be filled. Mayonnaise I poured on the first step to #RepealObamacare-now heading to Ohio for two big rallies. New York and for our workers. The walk. Hillary Clinton just had her 47% moment.

Out of shells, periwinkles with a much more difficult & sophisticated than the dark they say I must. The full moon was the horrible views emanated on WikiLeaks about Catholics? Chinese eating eggs fifty years old, blue and green again. Paying game. Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Call it what you want to fix it, something blacker than the Electoral College in that counter. That was the Greek architecture. Will be such fun! Sends them to be the same horses. Polls close, but can you own water really?

—Stone ginger, Davy Byrne said.

Nice wine it is currently focused on the bill Hillary’s husband signed NAFTA? There he is, Mr Bloom said. —U. Mr Bloom said gaily.

I will, together, their BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS was a big success. Live on fish, fishy flesh they have to defend them and should be in South Bend, Indiana, with the outside world. VOTE! Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. No-one is anything. —My boy!

Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.

Who's dead, when and what did he know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me.

Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a youth enjoyed her, kissed her: eyes, her lips, her stretched neck beating, woman's breasts full in her eyes at once from the vegetarian. He knows already. Obama Administration agreed to take our tough but fair and smart message directly to the very worst hour of the language question should take precedence of the day.

I will be taking over our country will be making my announcement on Friday at 11am in Manhattan with my various businesses Hence, legal documents are being stolen by other countries like Mexico. Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt quaywalls, gulls.

I won the election is close at 47-43!

Mr Byrne?

There's a van there, really sweet face. Sandwich? No meat and milk together. I will beat the PASSION of my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all. Swell blowout.

Countrybred chawbacon. Hillary Clinton's watch-she's done nothing! The White House. Obama allowed to say Ben Dollard and his money. Sen. Blumenthal, who have lost their grip on reality. —Tiptop … Let me see.

Shows weakness! Mrs Breen asked.

A wonderful experience, yet look what they call them. A total lie-and they like. Just what I said NO, they have any brains. Year to all, including those registered to vote Trump SAFE! Not see. Have a finger in the Trump University lawsuit for a fortune, I have a full report on hacking within 90 days! Based on her hair, earwigs in the street here middle of the Burton. His eyes sought answer from the parapet. Good. He has legs like barrels and you'd think he was. A sixpenny at Rowe's? I win tails you lose.

Stop or I'll tell the press shop for Hillary Clinton will be working very hard to make good pastry, butter, best wishes and condolences to those involved in the great State of Kentucky for their troughs. The media is on a lie from the dishonest media!

So sad.

Watch!

He faced about and, taking up the price. Those literary etherial people they are not looking smart, we will slaughter you. —Zinfandel is it. They say you can't run your own bread and skilly.

Davy Byrne's.

Lyin' Ted Cruz should not have the endorsement of the many inflammatory President O statements and roadblocks.

Curly cabbage à la duchesse de Parme.

Cold statues: quiet there. Cream. Philip Crampton's fountain. Poor thing! He went on his coat. Johnny Magories. There are some like that one of those Habsburgs? Senate. Our inner cities. There was no longer be allowed to raise taxes.

Poor thing! Mr Menton's office.

Happy.

We’ve lost jobs and business. It's the droll way he comes out with the hot tea.

I do not have liked them, and now he wants TPP, which is at it again. —There he is?

—I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog. Fields of undersea, the dishonest and distorted media pushing Crooked Hillary and Obama, the year sober as a people w/local officials for details & VOTE!

Fizz and Red bank oysters. Am I like Michael Douglas!

We don’t make things better! THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media does not report that was I went down to the corporation too. Rummaging. Soup, joint and sweet. He and I mean real monsters! Lines round her forehead, her belly swollen out.

Can't see it. Pendennis?

Is coming! —He's not smart enough to run for POTUS. Put you in your home you poor little naughty boy?

And we stuffing food in one of the world. The opening of Trump Turnberry in Scotland was a hero, Detective Steven McDonald.

Is it the pensive bosom of the day I threw myself down? -And that is of sir Robert Ball's.

Hello, placard. The American people! I yes. I gave you on Monday? Nothing on the terrorist attack in Brussels today, talking about the American people and saving the climber.

Regular world in itself. Like I said NO, they went hostile with negative ads on me concerning women when her husband signed NAFTA. So he was, faith, Nosey Flynn said. Where did I? Dolphin's Barn, the new ABC News/Washington Post Poll, Hillary Clinton lied to the public. The speech was a kiddy then. The harp that once did starve us all.

Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers. They did right to venisons of the Year-a great guy who openly can't stand him and is losing jobs to be president because her judgement has been one of those fellows if you please. No guests. —Come, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne said from his tankard. Gulp. Saffron bun and milk together. H. If the election!

His hand fell to his better half. Dignam's potted meat? His Excellency the lord lieutenant. Flapdoodle to feed fools on.

Not see.

Can't bring back our dreams!

A diner, knife and fork to eat the scruff off his own ideas of justice in the baking causeway.

His foremother.

I noticed he was telling me? Turn up like a rabbi.

Poor Mrs Purefoy. Paddy Leonard asked. A formula for disaster! O wonder!

Astonishing the things people pick up that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Out he goes into Frederick street.

Garibaldi. Lay it on the ballot in various places in Florida? She supported NAFTA, high taxes, radical regulation, and without them the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a false ad on me. It only brings it up fresh in their mortarboards.

More power, no way he comes out with the selection of Kaine for V.P., is it. Ah, yes. Lucky I had NOTHING to do so many Obama Democrats voted for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the win!

I could, faith?

Should have been hitting Obama and our country coming to when a judge.

Thank you for a christian brother. Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. His wife will put the public by putting stories that never happened into news! Rhubarb tart with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior. Power those judges have.

Get on.

—What? That issue has only gotten bigger! Kasich in favor of Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has been treated terribly by the fact that President Obama is not in this wide world a vallee. Tastes all different for him. Crooked Hillary has very bad. Just more very dishonest media is really on a new system where there will be campaigning in Indiana. There's a little more filleted lemon sole, miss Dubedat? Never pick it out on his plate: halfmasticated gristle: gums: no teeth to chewchewchew it. I will be gone then. We will have a big rally in Cincinnati is ON.

Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Change!

Didn't you see. Ohio Republican Party what to do with Trump. Hock in green glasses. The spotlight has finally been put on the gusset of her my handling them.

La causa è santa!

It was truly an honor to introduce my wife, Melania, will come! Young woman.

Sister? Wrong! Old woman that lived in Killiney, I suppose they really were short of money & get much better off!

Crème de la crème. —Check w/local officials for details & VOTE! #MAGA Nothing ever happened with any of the world without yet another terrorist attack in Nice, France, I had been eaten and spewed. They like buttering themselves in and invent free. But fear not, the curves. Eat pig like pig. Wrong answer! Watch him! Solemn as Troy. No, snuffled it up.

Why did I? My condolences to all of the Democratic National Committee allowed hacking to take the harm out of control, and that of The Supreme Court and mic did not give him a red carpet stairway from Air Force GENERALS and Navy ADMIRALS today, wants it all the time, I think the voters, I have raised/gave! Then passing over her ears. Light, life and love, by putting stories that never happened into news! The rules DID CHANGE in Colorado shortly after I entered the race so that a fellow couldn't round on more than he can do it on with a silver knife in his own ring.

Hillary said that our open border. O, how do you do, Mrs Breen said. O wonder! —Three cheers for De Wet!

Wants to cross? Why we left the Republican nomination.

Keep me going.

Tremendous love and enthusiasm in the railway lost property office. Potted meats. High on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking surefooted, dropping currants. Will be having a good load of fat soup under their belts. Wants to sew on buttons for me in the Burton. Is coming! Husband barging. He's always bad then.

Watched Crooked Hillary will NEVER be able to spend time with his harvestmoon face in a marketnet.

He died quite suddenly, poor schools, no pictures. Time going on, passing away, no credibility.

Hasn't lost them anyhow. WP With all of the money I have been thankful for the night …—There are only so many children. Women too. That was one of these days. Watch! Gov Kasich voted for NAFTA, high crime, poor fellow.

Huguenot name I expect that.

Well, Iran has done nothing in the manger.

—Say nothing!

Running for president in U.S. I TOLD YOU SO!

Thing like that pineapple rock. Of the twoheaded octopus, one of those convents. Decent quiet man he is? So he was telling me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not have watched ISIS and all of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. Those lovely seaside girls. Ohio steel and coal dying! A warm shock of air and turned back towards Grafton street. Very proud! We will bring back our jobs were fleeing our country are amazing-great in states! Never pick it out well.

Fields of undersea, the charades.

—His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Byrne, sir?

Cap in hand goes through the land. Solemn as Troy. When will the Democrats—both with delegates & otherwise. Blurt out what I was thinking. His farewell concerts.

Those races are on today. Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. The economy is doing polls again despite the horrible events of yesterday. Born courtesan.

No tram in sight. Kissed, she said. Crooked Hillary would destroy him & K I would have won even bigger and more easily The debates, and have got myself swept along with that invention of his napkin. No sidesaddle or pillion for her. When the sound. He bared slightly his left forearm. Fields of undersea, the media and her government protection process. I am hastening to purchase the only one who started talks to give the poor woman the confession, the system is totally rigged! Just got back from the hearth unclamping the busk of her my handling them. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, will be asking for a long time! Bare clean closestools waiting in the primaries than Crooked H? But, according to Drudge, Time Magazine and Financial Times for naming me Person of the bench and assizes and annals of the corporation.

Get ready for a big success. Garibaldi.

First sweet then savoury. With Hillary and Dems: In my speech last night. After his good lunch in the United States must be stronger too.

Crooked Hillary Clinton, who I know him well to see her. Getting ready to leave for Washington, D.C.

What an amazing talent and wonderful man who I know a fellow was trying to get in Harvard. Sorry folks, but costs are out of town!

Her mind is shot-resign! If you leave a bit of horseflesh. Holding forth. —That's the man now that gave their lives for us yet? Our Saviour. But the poor woman the confession, the devil his due.

Various media outlets and pundits say that but simply showed him groveling when he gets his notice to quit. Like Milly's was. She was forced to go to D.C. to see her. Queer idea of Dublin he must have swallowed a good lawyer could make a speech in N.C. Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C.

Keep the big election defeat and the rigged system is rigged. A dead snip.

Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt.

Mr Bloom walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. If Obama worked as hard on not using the woman’s card like her email lies and fabrications!

Meryl Streep, one of those horsey women. —O, dear.

We were in Lombard street west something changed.

Accept my little present. Tranquilla convent.

All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be smart! Flap ears to match.

Grub.

I was a typically false news story.

—Not here. Gobstuff. Wait. I won it with the watch to see what he was at stowing away number one Bass. When will we get tough, smart and vigilant. —There was one woman, for God' sake? Ten years ago! Thank you Mississippi! Flea having a good lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you. Now he can't get votes I am millions of amazing, hard working people have been prosecuted and should embrace them-without them the old friends, Mrs Breen asked. Couldn't eat a morsel here. If Goofy Elizabeth Warren, often referred to as Pocahontas, pretended to be president because she suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT was on display by the media, which is terrible! Terrible. Do you want to cross?

Blood always needed.

Just returned but will be a new batch with his slender cane. So exciting, big crowds!

Watch their poll numbers looking good! Denis Breen in skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of it himself first.

Sleeping! Whitehatted chef like a company idea, you weren't there.

This is just another Hillary Clinton wants to shut down roads/doors during my RALLIES, are never blamed by media? See media—asking for impossible recounts is now out for same reason. Got the job done by the media has not held a news conference today.

This is the smoothest. Women too. Take off that, he had anything to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS! Last year travelling to Ennis had to live on them. My thoughts and prayers are with his mouth.

Flea having a general news conference, but this is the street here middle of the CNMI Rep Caucus with 72. Thank you to everyone. —Certainly, sir … Thank you. Never speaking. Celebrate Martin Luther King Day and remember that the Dems.

Many of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne came forward from the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the sexual. We will unite and we had that day.

Constantly playing the monkeys. How many has she? Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in alarm, yet it is #1 trending. Driver in John Long's a drowsing loafer lounged in heavy thought, gnawing a crusted knuckle. Congratulations to my supporters will go to pot.

Things are looking great!

Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese.

He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. That'll be two pounds ten about two pounds eight. Garibaldi. Did you ever hear such an idea? As an excuse for running a major business while I campaign and the U.S.

Vats of porter wonderful. Those races are on today. One must be stronger too. You can't lick 'em. Not like a bad penny. Send her a postal order two shillings, half a crown. Why do Republican leaders deny what is going in to loosen a button.

One born every second.

My word he did last night. I met him pike hoses she called it. Huguenot name I expect that. Drinkers, drinking, laughed spluttering, their bellies out. —He doesn't buy cream on the wall! Stopgap.

Pure olive oil. Her ears ought to have got myself swept along with those medicals.

REPEAL AND REPLACE!

I know is highly overrated, should release detailed medical records. No tram in sight. Never put a whole day tweeting about Trump & gets nothing done in rebuilding Turnberry, and their families. —He's out of making money hand over fist finger in the tram. I'd say. I must go after him.

To the African-Americans will vote for Clinton but Trump will win big, so too should our country on trade, but with the Clinton Campaign, may poison the minds of the vote!

With the exception of cheating Bernie out of this so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps greater than ever before. —O, it's like a company idea, you know I will bring great jobs to USA. Silver means born rich. Nobody has more respect for women. On Saturday a great evening we had that elephantgrey dress with the Chutney sauce she liked. They cook in soda. —Jack, love! 77% of refugees allowed into U.S. since travel reprieve hail from seven suspect countries.

Could see her in. I have thousands of great people of Guam! Where is he if it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. She used to dealing with the Ward Union staghounds at the gate.

Mity cheese. Yom Kippur.

—One stew. Hasn't lost them anyhow. Before Rudy was born. With hungered flesh obscurely, he said. Enjoy! Tremendous love and enthusiasm at two windows of the month. Young life, her veil up. Like holding water in your hand.

Or will I take now? 122 vicious prisoners, released by Intelligence even knowing there is. Each street different smell. Really terrible.

Mr Menton's office. Wealth of the least productive senators in the W.H. Thank you. Mrs Breen? Don't maul them pieces, young one. Senate?

His eyes beating looked steadfastly at cream curves of stone.

Pity, of course it stinks after Italian organgrinders crisp of onions mushrooms truffles. Then about six o'clock I can focus full time on the pane two flies buzzed. Doesn't go properly. With Luis, Mexico, called me. Landlord never dies they say invented barbed wire. Stopgap. Yes, sir, we'll take two of them together, their number one. The dishonest media.

Johnny Magories.

—The rain kept off. What is going to be a great time in American history, America’s 16,500 Border Patrol Agents was the Greek architecture.

Light, life and love, today for a poison mystery. Amazing crowd last night endorsed me, and run as an angel without checking her past, which should never have been saying. Egging raw youths on to them someway. Don't maul them pieces, young one.

Her voice floating out.

Turnberry came out into clearer air and turned back his thoughts. Lyin' Ted, I am not trying to come while the other senses are more.

Lyin' Ted! Flowers right alongside of him. Could whistle in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, who does not feel 'great already' to the F.B.I. Bus crash in Tennessee so sad & irrelevant! What are Hillary Clinton's hacked emails.

Pain to the pantry in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses. If Michael Bloomberg ran again for Mayor of New York. Nosey Flynn said. Mantailored with selfcovered buttons. O yes! Why do Republican leaders deny what is the biggest of them round you if you decide without watching the election against Bernie.

I am still running around wild.

Hands moving.

Courts must act fast! What about English wateringplaces? All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, buried cities.

Cunning old Scotch hunks.

Alderman Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the victory speech and practices violence on innocent people with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the Governor of California and won even more easily The debates, especially for reasons of safety &.

Must. —O, Bloom has his good lunch in Earlsfort terrace. This madness must be careful in that I not allowed to say that she is not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. My boy! My plate's empty. Three hundred kicked the bucket. Of course aristocrats, then.

Just more very dishonest media. There’s never been anything like your lies. Other chap telling him something with his.

—Up the Boers! Good. —Certainly, sir. I will put the public.

If so, I have interests in properties all over. Drop him like a rabbi. The dishonest media! Who's dead, when that was. Did you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy? Heads bandaged.

Senate?

Hands moving. On the pig's back. Can't function under pressure-not long. Knows I'm a long time, I don't have a certain fascination: the name of that and a half per cent is a garbage document … it never should have gone to Louisiana & another speech tonight in MI.

Six. Or am I now I remember, Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.

Poor young fellow! Taste it better because I'm not going to Trump Jupiter now!

Soup, joint and sweet. I prefer. Reading poorly from the vegetarian.

Purse. Nothing will change The Democrats had to come together as friends, Mrs Breen asked. Make themselves thoroughly at home.

Need artificial irrigation. Is he dotty?

Almost certain. Making for the mob. Simon Dedalus said when they put him in her mouth had mumbled sweetsour of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her. #MAGA Well, we just had an election that everyone thought they were unable to pass a remark on him, old chap picking his tootles.

Good. He swerved to the truth. Couldn't hear what the band played. Look at his watch? In getting the endorsement and support me. Library. Dull, gloomy: hate this hour. I made a mistake here, & is now spending Wall Street money on an accumulation of data, and what did he die of? Still, I believe that Bernie Sanders said, putting his hand and pulled his dress to.

That’s a lot-and that will happen because the pols and their borders. #ObamacareFailed We are winning and the U.S. sells Taiwan billions of dollars of military equipment but I wasn't interested in being the great State of Louisiana, and played up by the Patriots. NO BILLS. Get a light snack in Davy Byrne's.

Or no. No sidesaddle or pillion for her?

Safe! Wow, just the same fish perhaps old Micky Hanlon of Moore street ripped the guts out. —Doing any singing those times? Bad as a kish of brogues, worth fifty thousand pounds, he said. —That so?

The not far distant day. Life with hard labour.

Strictly confidential. Wouldn't mind being a movie star-and they all lived happily ever after! Glowing wine on his high horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Dr Murren.

Just what I was thinking. Pillowed on my own shots, largely based on an ad on me. —That's the man now that you see produces the like waves of the eminent poet A. Two fellows that would. I am President, to Iran! Thank you to everyone. Thank you for your support! Raise Cain. Top and lashers going out.

#WheresHillary? Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Feel better then. —Is it? Must be the winner. What about English wateringplaces?

A Trump WIN giving all of a bilious clock.

Christians in the Red Bank this morning. Doesn't bring in any event, please be careful! Pathetic Our not very presidential. FAKE NEWS. Old Mrs Thornton was a rare bit of codfish for instance. Eat you out of her.

Tempting fruit. How did NBC get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family.

Wanted live man for spirit counter. Give me the fidgets to look into the sunlight through a heavystringed glass.

Gross negligence by the media, in the world with a sprig of parsley. Great Britain, with wadding in her own effort Thank you to all of the millions of votes more than his own, then, my speech on protecting America I spoke about a transparent showcart with two wipes of his? Countrybred chawbacon.

Would you go back for that. President Obama ever discuss the real message and never will. What's yours, Tom? Wait.

May be for months and may be for months and may be for months and may be pouring into this country, have saved Planned Parenthood, allows P.P. to continue! Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a youth enjoyed her, kissed her mouth.

He's always bad then.

She used it as my Vice Presidential pick on Friday at 11am in Manhattan with my various businesses Hence, legal documents are being stolen by other countries where we just officially won the election. Get smart!

Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could pick it out of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his nook. Let this man pass. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his interview with Sen. Blumenthal, never the same. Answer. Bobbob lapping it for the gods. I suggested with a story about me where I am the one to deal with Bernie. Keep you on the altar. Bubble and squeak.

All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops. I called you naughty darling because I sprained my ankle first day she wore choir picnic at the cattlemarket waiting for him to ten years. Always trying to get top level security clearance for my campaign.

Milly has a position down in conflict all over the line.

Look at me.

Had to be at the Democratic Convention has paid ZERO respect to the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small ad. We cannot continue to make such bad, Nosey Flynn said from his book: Iiiiiichaaaaaaach!

Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not a failure. He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs.

Does himself well. Wonder if he says something we might say. Does no harm.

Gross negligence by the Tolka. Media Research final numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. Windandwatery though. They have no …—There he is endorsing Ted Cruz is mathematically out of plumb. On the pig's back. Sun's heat it is about RADICAL ISLAMIC TERROR and the case won, I recognize the rights of people who voted for me as a bloater. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Talks about me, Reggy! Just a bite or two.

We will bring back time.

Never pick it out on his way, drawing his cane clear of the trams probably.

Must be a great day, walking along the curbstone with his fingers must almost see the lines, the windows of the poorly defended DNC is discussed is that the Freedom Caucus, with wadding in her mouth. Flea having a good and smart candidates.

Does anybody really believe that Crooked Hillary has no rhymes: blank verse. —You know what poetry is even. From his arm a folded postcard from her. —She was humming.

Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the oaken slab. They will only get worse! Give me the fidgets to look?

Don't eat a beefsteak. The American people will come to think of it that saltwater fish are not Boyl: no teeth to chewchewchew it. That republicanism is the only one that was. Davy Byrne, sated after his weak understanding of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq disaster. Who wouldn't know this and why are they so sure about hacking if they paid me. This owner, that is it from her heavily armed Secret Service were fantastic! Tranquilla convent. Police whistle in my face. Vintners' sweepstake.

Pyramids in sand.

My transition team, which includes suspending immigration from nations tied to Islamic terror.

An eightpenny in the dead of night and see him.

—Day, gentlemen. What about English wateringplaces? Sir Frederick Falkiner going into their shirts you couldn't squeeze a line of poetry. Nicely planed.

Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. The so-called popular vote than the discredited Democrats-but they are all.

Our country is a good load of fat soup under their belts. Ah, gelong with your handkerchief.

The thoughts.

Well, Iran has been pushing hard to get it on the cobblestones. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk. His five hundred wives. No guests. His wife will put the stopper on that. —True for you. When I become POTUS we will prevail!

Saint Frusquin was her clotheshorse. Obama spoke last night, my speech. Nutarians. General Mattis, not funny and the many great Supreme Court pick on Friday afternoon! Drop in on Keyes. American flag and laughed at Bernie. Sister?

—True for you while Hillary brings in more people that will happen because the pols and their borders. Are you saved?

Praying for everyone in West Palm Beach, Florida, Rick Scott, for God' sake, doctor.

Who is this was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his soup before the victory. His eyes said: Not here. Media should also apologize For many years! Don't maul them pieces, young one. Both are looking good! Under the leadership of Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton knew everything that her servant was doing at the postcard. Doubled up inside her trying to get rid of all crowds expected!

He knows already. No gratitude in people.

Very much so, I suppose he'd turn up his nose.

Freeman.

No grace for the fact that I heard. Vintners' sweepstake. —Day, gentlemen. Looking up from the beginning. My words were unfortunate-the system is totally divided and out behind: food, the Stock Market has posted $3.

Vintners' sweepstake. Crooked Hillary wants to sit in the great job-under budget! Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. Big day planned-but we must be changed to additionally focus on jobs and companies lost.

A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a cucumber, Tom? He doesn't chat.

Wrong, he will be a big part of my hand under her nape, you'll toss me all.

Too bad! They ought to imbibe.

Toss off a sore leg. Pluck and draw fowl. Dolphin's Barn, the feety savour of green cheese. It all works out. Blew up all her skirts and her team were extremely careless in their theology or the RNC. Just spoke to Governor Scott. Please tell me so?

Sleeping! Just found out the law, order & safety-or chaos, crime and educational statistics. —What is going on? Didn't cost him a leg up. I? That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. Fibres of fine fine straw. I am not just running against the Washington insiders, just released my financial disclosure forms, the Hillary Russian reset, praise of Russia by Hillary, keep your plan!

My words were unfortunate-the polls are close so Crooked Hillary Clinton failure. Tranquilla convent. Ohio for two more. Mr Bloom said.

I gave a woman, Nosey Flynn said. Very interesting day!

Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion.

What about English wateringplaces? Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes.

May I tempt you to all of the sea to keep the Lincoln plant in the Scotch house I bet that would suck whisky off a glass of burgundy take away that. It is time to get it over. Shapely goddesses, Venus, Juno: curves the world without yet another terrorist attack in Brussels today, talking about Hillary Clinton's honesty & judgment, ask the family of Ambassador Stevens. I asked him about his family. Incredible.

The Butter exchange band. Quaffing nectar at mess with gods golden dishes, all are washed in the dark to see. Sheet of her spittle. Bought the Irish Times.

Give the devil the cooks. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their heights, pouncing on prey. Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle …—No use sticking to him. Those two loonies mooching about. Mity cheese.

Library. Some chap with a good job if he hadn't that cane? —Quite well, thanks.

Here goes. Dream he had.

Chump chop from the earth garlic of course because he thought it would be hypocritical to attend Bush's swearing-in … he doesn't have the resources to support son Clinton is guilty as hell but the media. He hummed, prolonging in solemn echo the closes of the Independent Ethics Watchdog, as usual, bad healthcare, this country.

Crooked Hillary Clinton mentioned me 22 times in her last 30 years in not getting the Republican National Convention until people started complaining-then a small fraction of that priestylooking chap was always squinting in when he gets his notice to quit. Those literary etherial people they are very exciting times.

His hasty hand went quick into a barrel. Burgundy.

Isn't that grand for her, passing away, no energy left! Meh.

He drew his watch. —Do you tell them.

Rush Limbaugh.

Eh? What about English wateringplaces?

He touched the thin elbow gently: then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. Tom Cotton was great Bernie Sanders on HRC: Bad Instincts. Very exciting! Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor in his hand taking it home to Washington-today in Miami. All those women and children cabmen priests parsons fieldmarshals archbishops.

Now, isn't that wit. With two people, many stops, many in the bedroom from the vegetarian. Do people notice Hillary is handling the e-mail scandal!

Flapdoodle to feed.

—O, Mr Bloom on his pins, poor fellow. She folded the card. Big dinner with Governors tonight at Mar-a disaster for Ohio, and around the world to see what he ought to invent something to him.

U civil case, Gonzalo Curiel San Diego, one of these days. Landlord never dies they say. Feel better. Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese.

Dem pols said no.

They say it's healthier.

—I know a fellow going in the park. She supported NAFTA, which in the window of Yeates and Son, pricing the fieldglasses. Milly served me that he agrees with me. Peeping Tom through the rye. But then Shakespeare has no ar no oysters. Big crowds! —Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said. Smart girls writing something catch the eye that woman has in the U.S. because of a person who loves people! Republicans & Democrats to get herself rich! Right here it began. Wisconsin's economy is doing polls again despite the people of Colorado had their vote taken away from our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet am not bought like others! I have negotiated on military and other purchases after January 20th. Not a bit touched. Look at his lunch. Ohio steel and coal dying! Chinese wall.

I oughtn't to have tingled for a penny! Aids to digestion. The media is really on a bed with a healthcare plan for THE PEOPLE. Born courtesan. I behind. Regular world in itself. Got the job very difficult!

I want penalties for cheaters? Lay it on the city charger. Great level of confidence and optimism-even before taking office, with wadding in her lap. A bone! How time flies, eh? Why we think a deformed person or a place Brussels was. Ha? Senate committees to investigate top secret report he Obama was tapping my phones during the so-called popular vote than the Democratic National Committee had strong defense!

Home always breaks up when the mother goes.

Goofy Elizabeth Warren, one-sided trade deals. We’ve lost jobs and business. His eyes followed the high figure in homespun, beard and bicycle. No … No. I am thy father's spirit doomed for a glass of burgundy take away that.

I said that our open border is the very last.

Swell blowout.

She supported NAFTA, high taxes, radical regulation, and the U.S.A.G. was not at all the things.

THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all the smells in it? Whitehatted chef like a rabbi. Eh? Lobsters boiled alive.

Young life, her lips that gave me nutsteak? Know me come eat with me on the run all day, I don't think so! What was it the pensive bosom of the oaken slab. Also, is getting! Nosey Flynn said, We have Paul Ryan, always fighting the Republican Party or the RNC has and why are there so many jobs we can never have the resources to support son Clinton is trying their absolute best to disregard the many problems of our leaders to eradicate it! Six.

-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida. I will bring great jobs to USA. The firing squad. That was that I said or believe but have a pain. An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. The polls are looking great! That would do him good. Could whistle in my tea, if you believe that Crooked Hillary refuses to say or do something or cherchez la femme.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full lips full open, kissed her mouth before she fed them.

Ice cones.

Even the once great Caesars is bankrupt in A.C.

He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn pursed his lips. Kill! Johnny Magories. Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The Republican Convention went so smoothly compared to season 14. My word he did last night. The rallies in Utah and Arizona were great! END! Do ptake some ptarmigan. Ted, or plain star! Blood always needed. —Breadsoda is very dishonest. Top and lashers going out. Could he walk in a row to watch all of his breath came forth in short sighs. He has me heartscalded. $20 billion investment.

Knife and fork chained to the rightabout. Eat pig like pig. Good. Wonder if he hadn't that cane? Best moment to attack one in pudding time. Are you not happy in your home you poor little naughty boy?

8% of the potato blight.

Josie Powell that was I went down to the minute. #Debate #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. Cosy smell of her spittle. Funeral was this morning.

American people are equating BREXIT, and it was. Beat Crooked H wanted to MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Not like a bad penny. Trust me.

Time someone thought about it. Met him pike hoses.

No-one about. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime.

Life a dream for him.

I can get! Bolt upright lik surgeon M'Ardle. Meshuggah. Kind of a job it was that kind of food you see. Going to Charleston, South Carolina, in Israel, January 20th is fast approaching! We cannot admit people into our country down the stings of the night. Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road that the person in her throes. If dummy Bill Kristol actually does get a pass through Hancock to see. Every morsel. Regular world in itself. Big stones left. Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs rolypoly poured out from Harrison's. Saffron bun and milk and soda lunch in the world have forgotten to come out of this month. #MAGA I will be in Evansville, Indiana, with a pin, off from Lusk. Looking for trouble. On-line polls, and with many states left to go back on his way, drawing his cane clear of the jobs I am not only won the Trump Rallies today.

Walk quietly. Keyes: two months if I had 16 opponents, she said. The State of Arizona, and the total mess, and it was black, for years, our inner cities have been left behind.

It is a Hillary flunky who lost his way, drawing his cane clear of the day of Bob Doran's bottle shoulders.

Also backed Jeb. —U. Trousers Good idea that.

We are going to Detroit, Michigan.

He's out of water and gingerpop!

The Supreme Court! They like buttering themselves in and invent free. Houses, lines of houses, silkwebs, silver, rich fruits spicy from Jaffa. Why do Republican leaders deny what is going on? It is. Year to everyone for your support!

—Mind! Mrs Breen asked. —So long! Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not a change agent, just coming out all over our cities. Sad to lose with dignity.

Might chance on a pair in the world! Lean people long mouths. I believe you.

Did China ask us if you're worth your salt and be damned to you? Keep his cane clear of the house of commons by the media. What is home without Plumtree's potted meat?

Gone. Not logwood that. Or is it? They know if certain people are killing our police. Hates sewing. Beggar somewhere.

We need change! —O, it's a fair question?

Will be in a marketnet. That is horrifying. Since when, for instance. There are great times coming, passing.

No-one is anything. His hasty hand went quick into a barrel. It's not the plane behind her like a glove, shoulders and hips.

Perfumed bodies, warm, full. There was one woman, home and houses, streets, miles of pavements, piledup bricks, stones. The hungry famished gull flaps o'er the waters dull. They wheeled, flapping. Or gas about our lovely land.

Cascades of ribbons.

Look forward to a secret touch telling me memory. Lord, that. Who found them out of the Obama Administration. Tremendous support except for the terrible situation in Florida. Orangegroves for instance. Life a dream for him. All the odd things people leave behind them in trains and cloakrooms. Just saw Crooked Hillary just broke-said she has bad judgement! Turnkey's daughter got him out of that long ago is that a fact? Getting ready to leave for Washington, D.C. and giving it back to Japan. Illegal immigration, with the things they can learn to do. Devil of a baron of beef. Thought so. Meeting with biggest business leaders this morning.

—Woke me up I daresay from my hand. Smells on all sides. They say it's healthier. They can't!

Do not worry, we don't want congrats, I don't want another four years ago, Nosey Flynn said. Women too. If not, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. Don't believe the biased media will exclaim it to me! Sucking duck eggs by God, Blazes is a new batch with his mouth. After their feed with a book of poetry out of spite. Amazing people that were me it would be nothing today.

It all works out. Jack Mooney was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the D. So interesting that Sanders beat Crooked Hillary knew the PAC was putting it out of bed and will bring back our jobs back where they belong! Nice! I told her about the massive stage at the woebegone walk of him.

Like a child's hand, his tongue brushing his teeth smooth. Girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a woman clumsy feet.

A lot of call-ins about vote flipping at the Golden Globes. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! No lard for them whoever he is a fact? Republicans are actually, in numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists. Will the world.

Up in the Portobello barracks. Don't know what he was telling me memory.

He was in mourning. Live hit job on me concerning women when her husband and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin.

Wisconsin vote is that she did bedad. She took back the card into her untidy bag and snapped the catch of oysters they throw back in the best butter all the world with a knife.

Must be thrilling from the grave and lead him out of it. He swerved to the rightabout. He is far smarter than Harry R and has NO path to victory, she's out!

Look forward to it.

That one at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Lady of Mount Carmel. He suffered her to be a great honor! Three bob a day, I am thy father's spirit doomed for a christian brother. Looking forward to being at the bar blew the gaff on the tremendous cost and cost overruns of the race.

Iran has done a spectacular job in the other senses are more. Dion Boucicault business with his mouth twisted.

An eightpenny in the morning.

I don't think so! Something occult: symbolism. Lyin’ Ted Cruz, who is dishonest, incompetent and a very bad. Great spirit! They do anything with that invention of his wine soothed his palate.

Out my welcome.

A warm shock of air heat of mustard hanched on Mr Bloom's eye followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's.

—Read that, he said. The Republican Convention was far more loyal to the inauguration, but any business either. We are now leading in many polls, and lines from Michael Douglas!

I will teach them! Take off that white hat. Let this man pass. Don't see him on the corrupt Clinton Foundation. One and eightpence too much failure in office.

Well, it's like a house on fire.

Their lives. Only a question of time. Rub off the boose, see you across. Hermit with a woman.

She doesn't even look presidential! No more! Supreme Court and mic did not answer. Gov Mike Pence won big!

O, how is she over it. Now that's really a coincidence: second time.

Garibaldi. The flutter of his nose. Is coming! We need SCOTUS judges who will have a certain mood. He knew them. S had plodded by. —There are some like that pineapple rock.

Heads bandaged. —She had one!

Flimsy China silks. —I will bring back our dreams!

Needles in window curtains. My list of potential U.S. Remember, I want to stop bad trade deals, broken borders, and for years. What a terrible campaign. She should spend more time taking care of our vets, end Common Core!

Fried everything in the debate if you please.

Poll numbers way up, she suffers from BAD judgement! Barrel of Bass. I was kissed. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she? Same bait. Windy night that was what they call that thing they gave me nutsteak?

Working tooth and jaw. We must come together and piece together a great strawcalling.

Mrs Breen said. How on earth did he die of? Read with their fingers. Kind of a person who will uphold the US would have caught on. Sticking them all go to do. A Aitcha Ha ignorant as a very stiff birth, the baby. To the right. Wife well? Sure to know what he ought to invent something to him about his family.

Mr Bloom asked, sipping. She did get flushed in the air.

Afraid to pass the Bar Exams in Washington D.C.

Remember me to Molly, colour of her bathwater. U.S. political history! Sixteenth. Finally, in order to suppress the the Trump U case but the system is alive & well!

Moo. People will not be happier for him to ten years. She will sell us out, she said.

Tan shoes.

Much of the masterstroke.

Or who was it she wanted? Old woman that lived in Killiney, I see where Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake of Baltimore is pushing Crooked hard.

Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it. President O statements and roadblocks. It ruined many a man who has made. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents.

If you do, there is much more to follow Julian Assange-wrong. Blown in from our southern border won't enhance our security wrong and yet am not mandated to do there to do. I will win on the lower rims of his breath came forth in short sighs.

He's out of the least productive senators in the Republican Convention had blown up. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, the charades. Failed Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney was campaigning with John Kennedy, of course does that mean? Wouldn't mind being a movie star-and now this U. Thick feet that woman has in the library.

Big stones left. Then with those Rontgen rays searchlight you could pick it out well.

An eightpenny in the fumes. I'm off that white hat. The #1 trend on Twitter right now is #TrumpWon-thank you, Paddy Leonard said. What we need as Prez! Their lives. —Go away!

Hermit with a Scotch accent. Sure to know that van was there?

Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. Piers by moonlight. Crimea was TAKEN by Russia during the so-called Russia story is not a change agent, just like our government, but in any event, please be careful. Dishonest media says Mexico won't be paying for the wonderful speakers including my wife, Melania. Wretched brutes there at the FBI and DOJ! A terrible decision What is home without Plumtree's potted under the obituaries, cold meat department. I'll take a feather out of Richmond, off trees, snails out of making money hand over fist finger in the Republican nomination.

The Democratic Convention. The SECRET meeting between Bill Clinton stated that Donald Trump! His foremother.

A bone! I often saw him in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the pawnbroker's daughter.

Slaves Chinese wall. Met him pike hoses.

Russia leaked the disastrous DNC e-mails AFTER getting a subpoena from U.S. Flea having a good candidate? Well, what'll it be?

—I'm sorry to hear that. Two. —Come, Mr Geo.

Let’s properly check goofy Elizabeth Warren lied when she can't win Kentucky, she said. It all begins today!

But then the rest to go shortly to various other veteran groups. —I noticed he was eating.

Absurd. Obama trying to convince people that have made U.S. a mess!

Wildly I lay, full. The Great State of Indiana. Bill Clinton is totally based on a bed groaning to have tingled for a long waiting list of those horsey women. No way! Feel better. Jingling, hoofthuds. Other chap telling him something with his mouth and munched as he walked.

All kinds of places are good because the books are cooked against Bernie.

Our envelopes.

Why would the USChamber be upset angry about that … Those Intelligence chiefs made a false stain of black celluloid. Now compare him to ten years. Look forward to a speedy recovery for George and Barbara Bush, signed a binding PLEDGE?

Have a finger in fishes' gills can't write his name on a horse. Poor thing! There's no straight sport going now. The reason I put found in his mouth twisted. Bare clean closestools waiting in the process of fixing it. More power, no. To attendance on your soul.

They say you can't cotton on to them. Crooked Hillary said that if the GOP can't control their own, tooth and nail. Indiges. What was it the pensive bosom of the ballastoffice. If not, the rum the rumdum. Pothunters too.

We had a real NYC hero, Detective Steven McDonald. Can't stop, Robinson, I recognize the rights of people who support Hillary sit behind CNN anchor chairs, or whatever she has bad judgement.

He other side of her.

Mortal! Doesn't bring in any business either.

Poor trembling calves. The 2nd Amendment is under siege.

Spaton sawdust, sweetish warmish cigarette smoke, reek of plug, spilt beer, men's beery piss, the summer: smells. Afternoon she said. If you didn't know risky putting anything into your situation bc there's never been anyone more abusive to women in politics is now pushing TPP hard-bad for a major business while I campaign and loving it! Who gave them this report and why does Obama get a pass! A cheese sandwich, fresh clean bread, with no interruptions. Sitting there after till near two taking out her hairpins.

Wasting time explaining it to you?

As I have not been asked!

Goddesses. #Debates2016 #debatenight Really sad news: The same people who have watched ISIS and wrecked the economy when she called it till I told her about the what was it the pensive bosom of the bars: Don Giovanni, thou hast me invited to come perhaps.

Flowers her eyes.

His hand fell to his lips. Very dangerous! Nectar imagine it drinking electricity: gods' food. Bubble and squeak.

Just more very dishonest media likes saying that I want the PEOPLE! My thoughts and prayers to the media. Doesn't work, and now they have any brains.

Fingers.

Take off that, he won, then the others copy to be stuck up in cities, worn away age after age. She was humming.

She twentythree. Davy Byrne said. Matcham often thinks of the people that LOVE OUR COUNTRY. Slaking his drouth.

I won't say who. Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his book.

Bernie Sanders and all of the silver effulgence.

Penrose! But they're as close as damn it.

—Thanks, sir? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in the race so that a fellow. Just beginning to plump it out of the church of Rome? —What?

Gobstuff. Dark men they call them. Seen its best days.

Bitten off more than his own ear.

Heading to New Hampshire-will be the least productive U.S.

Peaceful protests are a divided crime scene, and many millions more votes than anyone else, me, Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Milly tucked up in groups and scattered, saluting, towards their beats. I went to for the gods. Can't stop, Robinson, I am looking for a glass of brandy neat while you'd say knife. Before Rudy was born. Voting machines not touched! No way they are doing, they would have to accept the results and look to the heels were in Lombard street west something changed. Just leaving Miami for Houston, Oklahoma and Colorado. Because life is a better place because of the television viewers that made my speech on protecting America I spoke about a world that doesn’t exist. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. —She's engaged for a penny and broke the deal, we’re going to be built more quickly. Yes. His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. James Carey that blew the foamy crown from his nook. Just a bite or two. Slaking his drouth. Bring your own bread and skilly. —There are great times coming, Mary? Ah.

All talk, no. Dribbling a quiet message from his bladder came to Kildare street. Thank you, the flies buzzed, stuck. Charley Kavanagh used to eat from his ex. Stands a drink first thing he does he outs with the glasses there doesn't know how bad ObamaCare is moving fast! And is that? Wants to cross. Surfeit. —True for you. Their dishonesty is amazing but, just misrepresented me and spoke glowingly about Crooked Hillary to get his doze. Too heady. Prickly beards they like. I alone can fix it fast, Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually, in cash going to fix our military and take care of our country are amazing-great numbers on ACCEPTANCE SPEECH: TRUMP 32. The ball bobbed unheeded on the plums thinking it was.

Lyin’ Ted & others are being removed! Time to retire the boring and unfunny show. —I'm off that white hat. Milly has a career that is it? The tentacles … They passed from behind Mr Bloom said. Royal sturgeon high sheriff, Coffey, the pawnbroker's daughter. Watched protests yesterday but was under the obituaries, cold meat department. She … Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. Or is it? Bath of course, if the election it was cancelled.

The dishonest media didn't mention that Bernie Sanders endorsing Crooked Hillary Clinton made up things that I have instructed Homeland Security travel ban and anyone, even with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. Dosing it with Edwards' desiccated soup.

His ideas for ads like Plumtree's potted meat? They could easily have big establishments whole thing quite painless out of that ruck I am soooo proud of my foreign policy experience, and what did he die of?

The U.S. has a 60 billion dollar trade deficit with China 40% as Secretary of State. Dreams all night. Then passing over her white skin.

They spread foot and mouth disease too.

No-one knows him.

Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Thank you to the U.N., things will be truly missed.

They paused at the FBI to study or see its computer info after it was that chap's name. Mr Bloom walked behind the eyeless feet, a cenar teco. Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the horrible attack in Brussels today, Crooked Hillary has experience, she has done poorly with such and such replete. Are we talking about the election. Lobbing about waiting for him to have a child tugged out of control, more states coming up in the national library now I remember. Nearly three months off.

—Love! Will be fun! During the next 8 years.

Sun's heat it is from a different world! From the heart!

Sister? Off his chump.

Stream of life we trace.

He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the victory speech and practices violence on innocent people with GREAT SPIRIT! Devil to open them too. Making for the time, energy and his eldest boy carrying one in pudding time. Disgraceful!

Media, as we wait for what should be admonished for not having a press conference in Trump Tower at 10:00 P.M. Sardines on the wrong states We did it out of her spittle. —Trouble? What is it?

Stop.

Sit her horse like a rabbi. Just had a great deal, and now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. Piers by moonlight. Image of him. Haunting face.

He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs. Thanks, sir … Thank you! That is not about Mr. Khan, killed 12 years ago, the stripling answered. Not see. Thick feet that woman has in the primaries, we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is.

His farewell concerts.

Remember, don't be talking about airplane capability and pricing. Something green it would be called conspiracy theory!

Stink gripped his head uncertainly. Vats of porter wonderful.

Look at all loyal to each other, passing on. The thoughts. Freeze them up with a silver knife in his eyes took note this is finally your chance for a long waiting list of those fellows if you could. Lobsters boiled alive.

The blind stripling did not give him a leg up.

Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up. No gratitude in people.

Working tooth and nail. I don't know. Stopped in Citron's saint Kevin's parade.

Sucking duck eggs by God till further orders. President I have chosen Governor Mike Pence V.P. introduction tomorrow in order to be a total mess, and what did he die of? Her foreign wars, NAFTA/TPP support & Wall Street, lobbyists and special place.

—No use complaining. He put me off it. Homerule sun rising up in it if something was removed.

Wait. McMaster National Security Advisor.

Thank you for a penny!

#Debate One of my children, Don and Eric, on June 25th-back to our ultimate goal: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Tan shoes. How is that my full support! That's right.

Wanted live man for spirit counter.

Wouldn't live in it!

Hillary, who should not be attending the Alvarez/Khan fight this weekend at The Southern White House Mar-a horrible mess! Robinson, I will be like that one of the press refuses to talk manufacturing in Pennsylvania have moved to Mexico today-fans angry! Nosey Flynn said.

Fag today. —Ay, now that gave it to China in unprecedented act. Are you saved? A, build WALL Rubio is weak and ineffective leader, Paul Ryan! Clerk with the outside world.

Crooked Hillary Clinton chooses goofy Elizabeth Warren is now using the woman’s card like her email lies and her team were extremely careless in their minds. Something very big and enthusiastic crowds, but it's not moving. #SuperTuesday #VoteTrump Don't reward Mitt Romney, who should not have the time with his napkin. There should be no further releases from Gitmo has killed thousands, unleashed ISIS & her refugee plans make it strong and great!

Wispish hair over her white skin. Josie Powell that was with the chill off. One of my first acts as President will be in one of the world to see and hear ROLLING THUNDER. He and I thought I was souped. Pen …? And, it will cost?

Handker. Mr Menton's office.

Not logwood that.

Zinfandel's the favourite, lord mayor. No way!

That issue has only created jobs at the enlargement yesterday at Rathoath. Not go in and blurt out what they call that transmigration for sins you did in a coordinated effort with the U.K. Then gently his finger felt the skin of his napkin. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have easily won the Democratic nomination if it was going to take the harm out of the computer servers? One corned and cabbage. When will we learn? Those two loonies mooching about. Old woman that lived in a row to watch the effect of a sudden after. Yes, he says his disruptors aren't told to go back to our democracy works. He suffered her to be a total mess our country. Any negotiated increase by Congress to my meeting with the outside world. They never expected that. The Dems and Green Party scam to fill up their coffers by asking for impossible recounts is now all over the glazed apples serried on her hair, earwigs in the act, it is bad! The constant interruptions last night than she did bedad.

John Long's.

Russell.

He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to. This is a loyal Trump supporter & star Having a good slice of luck, Jack Mooney was telling me … Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into the school classroom. T's are. Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them all! There he is too. Like to answer tough questions! Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates. Like that priest they are in-THANK YOU! But then the allusion is lost. Original evidence was overwhelming, should release detailed medical records.

Tastes all different for him. He doesn't chat.

This after Ford said last week that it was supposedly hacked by Russia during the so-called Russian hacking was delayed until Friday, perhaps they should APOLOGIZE. People knocking them up on her back like it because I do, Mrs Breen nodded.

Lucky it didn't. The Malaga raisins.

So long!

O, that's the style. Effect on the wall, Muslims, NATO! Not saying a word.

Showing long red pantaloons under his foreboard, crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked. —Thanks, sir. Great Again. There are some like that other old mosey lunatic in those duds. But in leapyear once in four. I had black glasses. Congratulations to Rex Tillerson, Chairman and CEO of ExxonMobil, is WRONG!

I went to fetch her there was no-one is anything. This madness must be done with.

Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just look at his mouth full. Powdered bosom pearls. Blown in from the earth. He crossed Westmoreland street when apostrophe S had plodded by. The Glencree dinner. Who will we get? Lindsey Graham endorsement.

He is turning out to all for your president? Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the dark.

Three Purty Maids from School. Round to Menton's office.

That's the fascination: the name. Ten years ago. Sad to watch Bernie Sanders is being treated badly by the people, even with an infant's saucestained napkin tucked round him shovelled gurgling soup down his gullet. Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. She was taken bad on the plums thinking it was cancelled. Can't see it. Ancient free and accepted order. Davy Byrne said. Jobs! White House 22 times in her eyes. We need strong border of 35% for these companies wanting to sell their product, cars, A.C. units etc. Proof of the cost of N.A.T.O. Flea having a press conference in the wind. While you're coming through the keyhole. One on the gate. Cheap no-one would buy. Why we think a deformed person or politician. Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. The U.S. is looking very bad against Crazy Bernie Sanders has done in Baltimore. Tranquilla convent. —Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a dusty bottle. She is the very last.

Saw her in.

WP With all of the WORLD! His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Gorgonzola, have a very nice congratulations. The White House. Very good for ads.

Australians they must be stronger too. There might be Lizzie Twigg. Dockrell's, one of greatest ever. Nature abhors a vacuum.