#the ferocious journalist

[little-red-notebook]

Lilac luster for both boys :>

"Is there something they wish they could forget? Something they wish they could remember?"

Let's start with the Cheerful Bookseller!

Something Clarence wishes he could forget? The way of doing of a thing he wishes he hadn't done. Not the memory of the event itself though…that seems neither right nor wise.

Something Clarence wishes he could remember? A great many things his mother once said. But, for the sake of being economical given only one thing to remember: How to get to the place she used to work.

And for the Ferocious Journalist --

Something Peter wishes he could forget? What sunlight feels like.

Something Peter wishes he could remember? Joke answer: What sunlight feels like. More serious answer: Peter takes steps to remember things that would conventionally be considered important… and he would say he's been mostly successful. But���when it's the holidays, Peter sometimes gets a sense memory of a smell from when he was young. Sharp and round and nutty… He assumes it's some kind of fresh spice. He was months underground before he realized his chance to ever actually go and try to find out which one it might be had effectively passed. After all, even aside from the expense, and the preserved state of any surface spice in the Neath…nothing ever does smell or taste quite the same in the Neath as it does on the surface, does it..?

[reliably-derogaffectionate]

behold! scribbles of my various flondon guys (gender neutral)

featuring:

- the reflected silverer (don't question why his reflection is indistinct) - the indiscriminate disaster (oh he of poor common sense and worse taste in men) - the stoic hunter (exhausted, depressed, and keeping aforementioned disaster alive) - lord f__ (awful rich man makes terrible decisions, more at 11) - young lady f__ the curious sharpshooter (who would rather thank you Not to associate her with her father, please) - the benevolent rogue- i mean, the amiable honey-sipper (who definitely isnt that robin hood-esque master thief, what a silly concept) - the indignant servant (recently fired, but she's found something new to devote herself to...)

[volkswagonblues]

a bibliography for us Daniel Malloy freaks

(a loosely pulled-together reading list about print journalism, New York, the 1970s & 80's, and the AIDS Crisis. Most of the credit goes to @islandbetweenrivers who started this)

On Daniel Molloy, California Boy

The show never explicitly states if Daniel went to college, but since college students were exempt from the Vietnam draft, which ended officially in 1973, it could be interesting to imagine Daniel in Berkeley.

Slouching Toward Bethlehem by Joan Didion

The White Album by Joan Didion

Berkeley Barb archives (link) -- weekly underground newspaper that ran in Berkeley between '65 to '80

The Daily Cal First 150 Years (link) -- student newspaper at Berkeley

On Journalism

Iphigenia in Forest Hills by Janet Malcolm

From her reporter's seat, Malcolm observes that a trial is merely "a contest between competing narratives". (Guardian review)

The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm

“"Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible," wrote Malcolm in an opening sentence that caused a sensation in the tiny, self-referential world of posh American journalism.” (Guardian review)

The Freaks Came Out to Write: The Definitive History of the Village Voice by Trisha Romano

“The Voice’s origins were proudly amateurish. One early contributor was a homeless man recruited from a local street; equipment consisted of two battered typewriters, an ink-splattering mimeograph machine and a waste paper basket for rejected submissions. Morale spiked when a staff member discovered that dried pods used in fancy flower arrangements contained opium, which was boiled up in the office when the time came for a coffee break.” (Guardian review)

Note: The Village Voice was THE alt-weekly newspaper and it was run out of Greenwich Village in NYC. Lots of incredible writers start there and then move onto the Times, Vanity Fair, etc. Very much the sort of crowd a young Daniel would be mixed in circa 70's and 80's.

The Night of the Gun, by David Carr

David Carr redefines memoir with the revelatory story of his years as an addict and chronicles his journey from crack-house regular to regular columnist for The New York Times. Built on sixty videotaped interviews, legal and medical records, and three years of reporting, The Night of the Gun is a ferocious tale that uses the tools of journalism to fact-check the past. (amazing rec from @archive-z)

Note: imagine if Daniel did this and then fact-checked his way into remembering that vampires existed

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks by Patrick Radden Keefe

Keefe can paint complicated portraits of victims and vigilantes alike while covering their lonely pursuit of justice. He intuits why a Dutch woman who has exposed the crimes of her gangster brother might lie about her present whereabouts. He understands why a man who lost his brother in an aeroplane bombing might spend the rest of his life trying to find the culprit. Again and again, Keefe surmises that even the most detailed of investigations can only speculate about human motives. (Guardian review)

Note: the sort of deeply human longform profiles that feels like the sort of writing Daniel does, based on his masterclass clip and what he reveals in his interactions with Louis

On New York, New York (in the 70s)

Notes from Underground, by Eric Bogosian + Perforated Heart, by Eric Bogosian

In four billion years the sun will explode. But before that we'll run out of fresh water and before that we'll all die of some mutation of AIDS that's spread by coughing. It's not my fault anyway. I can't think about this any more today. I'm going to masturbate.

Note: The OG. What else is there to say.

Ladies and Gentleman, the Bronx is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City by Jonathan Mahler

In the long sweep of American history, of course, 1977 is not exactly 1865, 1941, 1968 or 2001. Yet from porn shops to gay bathhouses, from Yankee Stadium to City Hall, from the blackout to Son of Sam, from Rupert Murdoch's New York Post to the rise of SoHo and Studio 54, the city was living through what Mahler convincingly calls "a transformative moment . . . a time of decay but of rehabilitation as well.” (New York Times review)

Remain in Love: Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, Tina, by Chris Franz (2020)

Frantz’s account of the early days, when the Heads lived in the pre-gentrified Lower East Side of New York, an almost literal war zone. While searching for a loft to live in, they viewed one building that was on fire. One spring afternoon, Frantz walked over to the now-legendary club CBGB to ask for a gig. The place smelt of “beer, roach spray, dog doo [the owner, Hilly Kristal, had a free-roaming saluki] and Chanel No 5”.

Winter’s Journal, by Paul Auster

Note: To me, Auster is one of the closest real-life Daniel Malloy analogues: born around 1950, literary career in NYC, moved to Paris in the 1970s for a few years, troubled middle-class background. Novelist though, not a journalist. There’s an anecdote in this book about a car crash that feels like a deadass Devil’s Minion fever dream. Crazy stuff. One of my personal favourites

On the AIDS Crisis

And the Band Played On, by Randy Shilts

The book chronicles the discovery and spread of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) and acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) with a special emphasis on government indifference and political infighting—specifically in the United States—to what was then perceived as a specifically gay disease

The Journalist of Castro Street: The Life of Randy Shilts, by Andrew E. Stoner

Biography of Randy Shilts that’s very helpful for imagining Daniel in the early 1980s newsrooms covering Karposi’s sarcoma

How to Survive a Plague: The Story of How Activists and Scientists Tamed AIDS by David France (2017)

It’s not easy to balance solid journalism with intimate understanding of a subject, and even harder to write eloquently about a disease that’s killing your friends and loved ones. France pulls it off, in his own words (his description of finding a college roommate’s panel in the AIDS Memorial Quilt is heartbreaking) and in letting his articulate sources speak for themselves. (SF Gate review)

Timeline of AIDS (link)

Overview of HIV (link)

And some films, just for fun

The Panic in Needle Park (1971): Drama film directed by Jerry Schatzberg. Al Pacino is a heroin addict and small-time dealer in Manhattan who falls in love with another addict.

Serpico (1973): biographical crime drama film directed by Sidney Lumet. Al Pacino is a hippie cop (yes, I know, its part of the plot) with one foot in the 1970s bohemian art scene

American Graffiti (1973): teen movie set in 1973 Modesto ("I'm just a shitty kid from Modesto"--Danny Malloy)

The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974): More grimy 1970s NYC stuff

All the President’s Men (1976): THE ABSOLUTE JOURNALISM MOVIE??

Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

Cruising (1980): 1980 crime thriller written and directed by William Friedkin. Al Pacino is a cop (again) but this time he goes undercover in NYC gay leather clubs

Almost Famous (2000): Set in 1973, it chronicles the funny and often poignant coming of age of 15-year-old William, an unabashed music fan who gets the chance to write for Rolling Stone

Spotlight (2015): More journalism movies! The true story of how the Boston Globe uncovered the massive scandal of child molestation and cover-up within the local Catholic Archdiocese

everyone say thank you to @islandbetweenrivers for starting this, I just polished up our google docs and posted it on tumblr.

Also if anyone has something to add please let me know!

[northgazaupdates]

7 February 2024

Journalist Ismail Al-Ghoul discusses conditions on the ground in north Gaza. Full English translation provided by Instagram user faridaek. It reads,

Today marks the 124th day, as we continue to face the ongoing aggression. The start of international agreements does not signify an end to the aggression or the war. Gaza is still suffering from destruction, pain, killing, and loss.

It is also enduring a siege that has lasted for many long days. Gaza desperately needs support in all aspects of life. The occupation forces have destroyed the infrastructure, communication lines, electricity grids, and even the homes, streets, and buildings. They have destroyed every stone and tree-everything. Gaza is bracing for a battle beyond the war, facing successive wars.

Initially, a war of missiles, destruction, and bulldozing, and thereafter, a war of

reconstruction to be able to live in peace. We do not forget or overlook the extent of Gaza's suffering due to this ferocious conflict. We do not forget or ignore, in any agreement made or to be made, all the pain Gaza has endured. These have been long, difficult days, steeped in pain and blood, that have weighed heavily on the hearts of Palestinian. We pray God reunites every Palestinian.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by الصحفي إسماعيل الغول (@ismail_gh2)

[gael-garcia]

Writers Against the War on Gaza (WAWOG) is an ad hoc coalition committed to solidarity and the horizon of liberation for the Palestinian people. Drawing together writers, editors, and other culture workers, WAWOG hopes to provide ongoing infrastructure for cultural organizing in response to the war. This project is modeled on American Writers Against the War in Vietnam, an organization founded in 1965.

Statement of Solidarity

October 26, 2023

Israel’s war against Gaza is an attempt to conduct genocide against the Palestinian people. This war did not begin on October 7th. However, in the last 19 days, the Israeli military has killed over 6,500 Palestinians, including more than 2,500 children, and wounded over 17,000. Gaza is the world’s largest open-air prison: its 2 million residents—a majority of whom are refugees, descendants of those whose land was stolen in 1948—have been deprived of basic human rights since the blockade in 2006. We share the assertions of human rights groups, scholars, and, above all, everyday Palestinians: Israel is an apartheid state, designed to privilege Jewish citizens at the expense of Palestinians, heedless of the many Jewish people, both in Israel and across the diaspora, who oppose their own conscription in an ethno-nationalist project. 

We come together as writers, journalists, academics, artists, and other culture workers to express our solidarity with the people of Palestine. We stand with their anticolonial struggle for freedom and for self-determination, and with their right to resist occupation. We stand firmly by Gaza’s people, victims of a genocidal war the United States government continues to fund and arm with military aid—a crisis compounded by the illegal settlement and dispossession of the West Bank and the subjugation of Palestinians within the state of Israel.

We stand in opposition to the silencing of dissent and to racist and revisionist media cycles, further perpetuated by Israel’s attempts to bar reporting in Gaza, where journalists have been both denied entry and targeted by Israeli forces. At least 24 journalists in Gaza have now been killed. Internationally, writers and cultural workers have faced severe harassment, workplace retribution, and job loss for expressing solidarity with Palestine, whether by stating facts about their continued occupation, or for amplifying the voices of others. These are instances that mark severe incursions against supposed speech protections. Specious charges of antisemitism are leveled against Zionism’s critics; political repression has been particularly aggressive against the free speech of Muslim, Arab, and Black people living in the US and across the globe. As was the case following the September 11th attacks, Islamophobic political fervor and the widespread circulation of unsubstantiated claims has galvanized a US-led coalition of military support for a brutal campaign of violence.

What can we do to intervene against Israel’s eliminationist assault on the Palestinian people? Words alone cannot stop the onslaught of devastation of Palestinian homes and lives, backed shamelessly and without hesitation by the entire axis of Western power. At the same time, we must reckon with the role words and images play in the war on Gaza and the ferocious support they have engendered: Israel’s defense minister announced the siege as a fight against “human animals”; even as we learned that Israel had rained bombs down on densely populated urban neighborhoods and deployed white phosphorus in Gaza City, the New York Times editorial board wrote that “what Israel is fighting to defend is a society that values human life and the rule of law”; establishment media outlets continue to describe Hamas’s attack on Israel as “unprovoked.” Writers Against the War on Gaza rejects this perversion of meaning, wherein a nuclear state can declare itself a victim in perpetuity while openly enacting genocide. We condemn those in our industries who continue to enable apartheid and genocide. We cannot write a free Palestine into existence, buttogether we must do all we possibly can to reject narratives that soothe Western complicity in ethnic cleansing. 

We act alongside other writers, scholars, and artists who have expressed solidarity with the Palestinian cause, drawing inspiration from the Palestinian spirit of sumud, steadfastness, and resistance. Since 2004, the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI) has advocated for organizations to join a boycott of institutions representing the Israeli state or cultural institutions complicit with its apartheid regime. We call on all our colleagues working in cultural institutions to endorse that boycott. And we invite writers, editors, journalists, scholars, artists, musicians, actors, and anyone in creative and academic work to sign this statement. Join us in building a new cultural front for a free Palestine.  

Signed,

WAWOG Interim Organizing Committee

Hannah Black

Ari Brostoff (Senior Editor, Jewish Currents)

Elena Comay del Junco

Kyle Dacuyan (Executive Director, Poetry Project)

Kay Gabriel (Editorial Director, Poetry Project)

Kaleem Hawa

E. Tammy Kim

Shiv Kotecha

Wendy Lotterman (Associate Editor, Parapraxis)

Muna Mire

Perwana Nazif

Brendan O'Connor

Alex Press (Staff Writer, Jacobin)

Sarah Nicole Prickett

Dylan Saba

Zoé Samudzi (Associate Editor, Parapraxis)

Jasmine Sanders

Claire Schwartz (Culture Editor, Jewish Currents)

Janique Vigier

Harron Walker

Chloe Watlington

Gabriel Winant (Department of History, University of Chicago)

Audrey Wollen

Hannah Zeavin (Founding Editor, Parapraxis)

Signed, In Solidarity

Fatimah Warner (Noname)

Saul Williams

Susan Sarandon

Janeane Garofalo

Gael García Bernal

Danez Smith

Ocean Vuong

Aria Aber

Saidiya Hartman

China Miéville

+ full list here

[ollietreetime]

FLONDON ARTFIGHTS

FIRST OF MANY ARTFIGHT POSTS YAY!!!! Here's some cool FLondons (in order!) Atropos Saturni, the Typical Composer (and Matty!) (Mothit)

Samuel Ashman, the Bloodstained Deacon (@shazzbaa)

Rhosyn Myir, the Eclectic Visionary (and Luce!) (vagorsol)

Dr. Clarence Exton, the Cheerful Bookseller (@doodledragondoll) (along with Tanya Sabethes, the Precocious Fledgling, one of my characters)

Finn Folie, the Dubious Dilettante (@magpiemalarkey)

Drew Wells, the Inescapable Voluptuary (@lookinlikeaking) Jack Bell, the Amiable Honey-Sipper/ the Benevolent Rogue (@othidar) and Peter Sunstram, the Ferocious Journalist (doodledragondoll again!) Dr. Tomas Müller, The Bandaged Thanatologist (@reanimationstation) (along with Dr. Quilliam Sabethes, the Verdigris Surgeon, who is my guy) Dr. Ivy Bentley, the Famished Academic (and Margot!) (@artscoma)

IM SO GLAD I GOT TO ATTACK ALL THESE LOVELY GUYS they r so cool ily Fallen London...

[loumandaniel]

re: yr danielposting hate & ashbury anon, i am constantly trying to figure out whether or not the book is a reference to “The Night of the Gun” by celebrated investigative journalist David Carr. (Carr also developed Hodgkin’s lymphoma likely due to covering 9/11 & iirc there are also uncommonly high rates of Parkinson’s amongst first responders & reporters etc which I’m also like maybe Daniel’s Parkinson’s is another nod to Carr??) anyways, here is Carr’s book blurb from archive dot org:

DO WE REMEMBER ONLY THE STORIES WE CAN LIVE WITH?

The ones that make us look good in the rearview mirror? In The Night of the Gun, David Carr redefines memoir with the revelatory story of his years as an addict and chronicles his journey from crack-house regular to regular columnist for The New York Times. Built on sixty videotaped inter-views, legal and medical records, and three years of reporting, The Night of the Gun is a ferocious tale that uses the tools of journalism to fact-check the past. Carr's investigation of his own history reveals that his odyssey through addiction, recovery, cancer, and life as a single parent was far more harrowing-and, in the end, more miraculous-than he allowed himself to remember. Over the course of the book, he digs his way through a past that continues to evolve as he reports it.

That long-ago night he was so out of his mind that his best friend had to pull a gun on him to make him go away? A visit to the friend twenty years later reveals that Carr was pointing the gun.

His lucrative side business as a cocaine dealer? Not all that lucrative, as it turned out, and filled with peril.

His belief that after his twins were born, he quickly sobered up to become a par-ent? Nice story, if he could prove it.

The notion that he was an easy choice as a custodial parent once he finally was sober? His lawyer pulls out the old file and gently explains it was a little more complicated than that.

In one sense, the story of The Night of the Gun is a common one—a white-boy misdemeanant lands in a ditch and is restored to sanity through the love of his family, a God of his understanding, and (continued on back flap)

HOLD ON….i think you’re so right and this is the inspiration. ​you are number 1 daniel molloy understander to me so if you tell me something is daniel know i’m just nodding my head in full agreement

[warningsine]

For as much as I admire the incredible seventh episode of “Interview With the Vampire” Season 2, I cannot, in good faith, suggest other shows follow its lead. There are too many trapdoors lurking just behind the stage curtains, too many tonal shifts to ride out without being thrown from one’s motorcycle, and, quite frankly, too much patience required of the audience, human or vampire, given streaming executives think what viewers really want is a show that only requires half their attention. But despite all these challenges, “IWTV” persevered, the hard work of its true-blue theater troupe paying off in Episode 7, “I Could Not Prevent It” — an audacious endeavor that deserves to be recognized as one of the year’s most rewarding and remarkable hours of television.

A bit of context: Rolin Jones’ serialized adaptation of Anne Rice’s gothic horror classic began its journey to Sunday’s staggering episode by modernizing a nearly 50-year-old story and, in doing so, playfully yet purposefully toying with expectations. The subtextual attraction between newly bitten vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac (played by Jacob Anderson) and his maker, Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid), became beautifully, ferociously sexual (and thus textual). Louis’ identity in the novel — as a white plantation owner in Louisiana — was flipped into a Black, closeted, Creole businessman running a brothel in New Orleans. Finally, the interview was brought to the forefront as well. Rather than simply acting as a framing device, the veteran journalist Daniel Molloy (Eric Bogosian) interrogates Louis as he recounts his memories in the present. Is his account trustworthy? Is Daniel being purposefully deceived? Is Louis?

Floating in the periphery (where it belongs), there’s talk of a vampire uprising and clandestine meetings with a secret agent (Justin Kirk!) working to save humanity, but let’s not bother with AMC‘s “Immortal Universe” right now since it’s not a huge priority in this series (and it’s not proven to be worth the same level of investment outside of “IWTV”). What matters is that the show’s boldest, biggest choices from the start led them here, to “I Could Not Prevent It,” where they paid off in ways both long-established and unexpected.

To be clear: Episode 7 should not work. The primary story takes place on a stage (which can be visually static and tiresome). What’s said on said stage is almost entirely a recap of events covered in the previous 13 episodes, and what transpires is largely foreseeable. (We’re told the “trial” isn’t real, its outcome is fixed, and the accused are merely “props.”) From a bird’s eye view, “I Could Not Prevent It” is set up to fail. Instead, the same facets that have sustained “Interview With the Vampire” thus far — its meticulous character work, its loud-and-proud melodrama, and its persistent questioning of its unreliable narrator — send the most pivotal hour yet soaring to new heights (even by Lestat’s standards).

An Unreliable Narrator Becomes Even Less Reliable

Let’s start in the same place the series does: with the interview. Daniel has long played the pot-stirrer, both narratively and formally. He asks the questions, he pushes Louis to delve deeper here or skip ahead there, and he will ultimately be penning the book that doubles as an annoucnement that vampires exist and a memoir, of sorts, for Louis. But his interruptions don’t just keep his subject honest. They keep the series honest, as well. If a scene’s sympathies feel misplaced (like when Daniel won’t stop asking “Did you eat the baby?” as Louis recounts how difficult that moment was for him) or when dramatic situations start to tip into hammy territory (as they regularly, wonderfully do), the candid questioner will break his subject’s highfalutin reverie and bluntly return them both to Earth. His recurring interjections may be frustrating for audiences wholly enraptured by the primary timeline (aka the past), but they serve a higher purpose: making it clear that Louis is an unreliable narrator. (And, I would argue, they’re fun! Go Daniel!)

The legitimacy of Louis’ storytelling is more heavily scrutinized than ever in Episode 7, although Daniel doesn’t deserve the credit for calling him out. It’s Lestat, albeit still via Louis’ memory, who provides an alternate version of various milestones, as he tells the “jury” of his companion’s alleged transgressions. First he argues, way back when they met, it was Louis who hunted him, not the other way around. “How do you not know that it was your own voice, Louis? Speaking your own unspeakable desires? Screaming them in the darkness in the hopes that I would come to you.” Their he said/he said back and forth isn’t a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but — much like earlier rebuttals from Daniel made us wary of taking Louis’ word as gospel — the dispute over their origin story does plant the seed of doubt in Louis’ version of events.

And tees up Lestat’s next accusation: that Louis blackmails him into turning Claudia (Delainey Hayles) into a vampire, despite Lestat’s vehement, law-abiding protests. The scene itself plays out fairly close to what we saw before, but what may seem like trivial details to the less-than-impartial jury are hugely meaningful to the “IWTV” audience. The basic proceedings don’t change, but the motivations for them do. In Lestat’s recounting, Louis’ desperation to have a daughter is clearly misguided — what first seemed like a compassionate gesture on Louis’ part is now painted as a selfish act that would (and did) damage Claudia’s life as much as her makers’. Remembering it again, back in the present, Louis cannot deny his actions and admits that Lestat’s retelling is more truthful. “That is how it happened,” he says. “I didn’t think it at the time, but yeah.”

Louis’ ugly makeover (if, of course, we can believe anything Lestat claims) continues when Lestat shares his side of the couple’s physical fight from Season 1 — a vicious beatdown fans have long-suspected had more going on than what was shown (given that the couple disappeared upstairs for a significant portion of their brouhaha). The original depiction saw a jealous, vengeful Lestat use his superior powers to pummel his partner bloody. Now, in Lestat’s apologetic recital, he’s still the aggressor who goes too far, but he was also reacting to Louis’ own ruthlessness. Lestat, he claims, asked to stop, but Louis insisted on seeing their brawl through to a mortal end. “I’m gonna take this hand here and wrap it around that scrawny neck of yours,” a maniacally laughing Louis said. “I ain’t gonna stop until your eyes pop. Then I’m gonna find a big ol’ butcher knife and chop your head off.”

While not intended to justify Lestat’s frightful reaction, seeing Louis in such a state reframes the target of Lestat’s vitriol. It shows the audience a vampire literally begging for a fight, rather than a victim getting tossed around like a ragdoll, and it makes Lestat’s ensuing apology — on stage, in front of humans and vampires alike — all the more affecting. (As does Reid’s heartrendingly earnest performance.) The blame is shared. The results are, too. And their romantic saga grows all the more complex.

Nothing Tops a TV Show That Uses Its Time To Dive Deep into Characters

Phew! All these (alleged) twists and turns within established lore are enough to spin superfans’ heads, but “I Could Not Prevent It” isn’t focused on easter eggs or fan(g) service. It’s focused on characters. In addition to introducing all the aforementioned layers of our main duo — strengthening their twisted love story as much as it expands their emotional depth — Episode 7 doesn’t forget about its other creatures of the night. Santiago (Ben Daniels), as the prosecutor in a trial without a defense attorney, elevates himself to coven leader and gets to savor every second of his vengeance (except for those delightful moments when Lestat goes off book and puts Santiago in check). Madeleine (Roxane Duran) is mostly playing catch-up (she’s new to the group), but she still gets to flex her unbreakable backbone when she sacrifices her life by pledging loyalty to Claudia instead of the coven. Armand is similarly sidelined — made to watch as the vampires he betrayed are put through “a stoning” — but steps up in the only way he can, when he uses his powers to manipulate the audience/jury into saving Louis’ life.

Speaking of: For as much of the hour is dedicated to reappraising the past, Episode 7 isn’t strictly relegated to looking backward. Major, major shit goes down in “I Could Not Prevent It,” from Armand’s last-minute attempt at a do-over (tune in next week to see how he and Louis got over Armand’s betrayal) and Claudia’s tragic demise. Oh, Claudia. Always forced to be her own lone advocate, she doesn’t let Lestat’s apology mid-murder go unchallenged. “Real pretty. You dropped him like an egg from an airplane — he’s fine now, you apologize, and all is forgiven. We poisoned him, he’s not dead — he’s standing right in front of us — can I cry and say that I’m sorry, too?” She goes on to cite how she’s always been caught in Louis and Lestat’s “stormy romance,” which makes her fate here all the more fitting, and all the more tragic. Like she says, Lestat didn’t return for her. He didn’t travel across an ocean to seek revenge on his pseudo-daughter. He’s there for Louis, and just as she was born to heal their marriage, she dies because she helped break it.

Watching the sun steadily eradicate every particle of Claudia, as she sings the song she came to hate yet still tied her to the coven she longed to join, is painful, memorable, and fitting. Too often, Louis and Lestat treated her as a prop in their play, but she never accepted that reductive assessment. She always fought for herself, and she continued to do so until the bitter, all-too-early end.

If You’re Gonna Go Big, Go BIG

Which leads us to the final key element that makes both the series and the episode so successful: unabashed theatricality. Beyond setting so much of Season 2 — and even more of Episode 7 — in a literal theater, during an actual play, “Interview With the Vampire” is fearless in its willingness to go for those big melodramatic moments. Claudia’s death is harrowing enough before adding the song, and doing so could’ve tipped the scene into moment-ruining soap. The same risk applies to Lestat’s lengthy apology (not to mention his overt scenery-chewing throughout the “trial”) and so much of Louis’ grandiose storytelling to this point.

Trusting the actors to sell these scenes is half the battle, and even though it was clear from Episode 1 that Reid, especially, could sell sunlight to a coffin-dweller, seeing what he does with his brightest spotlight so far is nothing short of spectacular. But it’s just as impressive that Jones and his writing team, along with directors Craig Zisk, Levan Akin, and Episodes 6 & 7 helmer Emma Freeman can balance so many shifting tones without sacrificing any emotional weight. How? I don’t pretend to know, but “IWTV’s” extensive range seems to be rooted in character. The vampires’ god-like perception of themselves justifies the excess, and their inextinguishable humanity keeps them grounded. Lestat and Louis may be immortal (and thus more amenable to the pretentious, narcissistic depictions of whatever they deem important), but they also can’t repress the human nature they were born with. They’re still caught up in petty grievances, a desire for community, and individual attachments, which makes them immensely relatable even when they’re mocking us, their human viewers, as “complicit, repugnant, and appalling.” (Don’t worry, Santiago — we love you for it.)

Episode 7 combines the same moments of unblushing camp, biting humor, and piercing drama as the rest of the series, yet it’s able to hone them all to fit a hard-hitting hour of television. There are still lingering questions waiting to be answered in next week’s finale, but Jones has set up his last hour to focus more on resolution and catharsis than teases and cliffhangers. I still can’t believe Season 2 was able to keep the real Lestat offscreen for six of its eight episodes without spiraling out of control. Using visions of absent characters to make up for their absence is typically a terrible idea, yet “IWTV” proves itself the exception to a very good rule once again. Even as a rare example of courage in a timid TV climate, the audacity inherent to this choice and so many others isn’t notable solely for its bravery. It’s necessary for the show to work as well as it does.

To these vampires, anything less wouldn’t be enough.

Grade: A

[vague-humanoid]

On April 23, 2023 the Fort Worth Police attacked me and beat me for standing on a corner and preventing Nazis from filming people entering a drag show. Hours after my arrest the police in partnership with the elected district attorney spuriously developed a claim that I assaulted them, a claim they did not mention across 24 reports and supplemental reports. The chief integrity officer of the county took a case that spanned 2.5 seconds of my life, to invent the largest of conspiracies: that I am a terrorist, the leader of a criminal street gang, that I paid people to engage in unlicensed security, that cleaning water off my umbrella was a “secret antifa signal,” you name it. She tried to cloud 2.5 seconds with two years of lies and the jury saw through it from the start. I don’t want to mince words here. We watched for days as cops took the stand to lie, consistently contradicting each other and more wildly often misrepresenting and lying about the very things we were all watching together on screen. We watched as the accusations that Christian-fascists have long levied against me were methodically broken down to the lies they were. Here is an archive of daily trial updates for all four days. Please read, it is impossible to communicate the absurdity to anyone that wasn’t there. After four full days of enormous tension Tarrant County sealed their fate when they marched a wall of cops into the courtroom to stare down the jury while they read my charge. After less than 45 minutes, I heard those beautiful words: Not Guilty.  I am eternally grateful to my legal team who saw this blatant political persecution for what it was from the start and their ferocious commitment to justice while helping me feel like a person who mattered throughout. I will never forget their righteous anger and commitment to the truth. I am so grateful to my wife and family both blood and chosen, whose unending well of hope and strength pulled me through the darkest days. I am so grateful to the journalist who spent every moment of those long four days in the courtroom alongside my family so my story could be told. And I am so grateful to the Quakers for standing at my side from beginning to end and keeping me level and centered. I never wanted this to be about me, never wanted the attention or the soapbox, but I’m grateful for all that listened and pleased more than I can articulate to have the next twenty years of my life back. The real danger has passed, but the lawsuit against me by New Columbia Movement financed by their billionaire donor is still very real and in that suit I am defending myself. I will be back in civil court on August 13th to defend myself once again and as before, the truth will set me free. I am beset with an overwhelming amount of expenses to recover from two extra days of trial, investigative prep, and expenses related to fighting the civil suit. If you’re able to help, please send a few bones my way.

[sepdet]

(I don't usually break copyright for journalists, who deserve to make a living through their writing the same as other authors, but this paywalled article mentions a few native Hawaiian relief efforts that need funding)

Native Hawaiians organize aid for Maui fire victims as government lags

Reis Thebault, Washington Post [12Aug 2023]

LAHAINA, Hawaii — The boats kept coming. One by one, cruisers and catamarans eased toward the beach in Kahana, a small and tightknit neighborhood just north of Maui’s hardest-hit areas.

Each one was laden with supplies: generators, propane tanks, trash bags full of clothing and ready-to-eat meals. And each one was greeted by two dozen people, the first among them wading waist-deep into the ocean to retrieve provisions from the boat and pass them down the chain, which wound its way to shore.

[Hawaii utility faces scrutiny for not cutting power to reduce fire risks]

The entire operation buzzed with urgent efficiency. But this was not the National Guard, or the Federal Emergency Management Agency, nor state or local government. This was scores of residents, led mostly by native Hawaiians, who had battled immense grief and unreliable communications to coordinate a large-scale disaster relief effort serving everyone in need after Tuesday’s ruinous Maui fire.

And this, a parade of boats that brought desperate locals thousands of pounds of supplies, was one of many.

“There’s no government agency helping us — this is it,” said Jareth Lumlung, a native Hawaiian who helped arrange the de facto donation hub. “This is our home, our community.”

[Live updates on Hawaiian wildfires]

In the days since a ferocious wildfire decimated whole swaths of Maui, including the historic west island town of Lahaina, those who live here have said they’ve received little help from the county and state, small entities which are struggling to respond to an unprecedented calamity.

For people whose cultural traditions have been threatened by American colonization and the state’s embrace of tourism and development, government help was never expected. Instead, the community has relied on itself.

Many, native Hawaiians in particular, see the absence of visible official support as a continuation of long-standing frustrations and pain, which began with the destructive arrival of Europeans and lives on in struggles over water rights.

The displacement of native Hawaiians is a particularly acute concern now, as much of the island has been targeted for gentrification, driving up the costs of living and forcing many native Hawaiians to move to mainland cities like Las Vegas.

[After five hours in ocean, Maui fire survivor is ‘blessed to be alive’]

Government officials have said they were focused on putting out the flames, housing and feeding survivors in evacuation centers outside the burn zone, protecting damaged areas, clearing roads in and around the town and helping to restore essential utilities. Some of the aid is out of reach of survivors, however, because they lack transportation or working phones to alert them about services. In Lahaina, the private efforts have been more visible, survivors said.

Hawaii Gov. Josh Green (D) estimated that nearly all of Lahaina had been destroyed. But in Kahana, the town’s spirit remained completely alive.

“If you take away all Hawaiians, there’ll be no more Hawaii,” Lumlung said. “It’ll be just a place. This is what it’s all about right here. We’re all raised the same way; this is something that’s just naturally instilled. You don’t have to be asked to do these things.”

Residents gather at Napili Plaza in Lahaina, Hawaii, to connect to Starlink satellites to contact their loved ones on Friday. (Mengshin Lin for The Washington Post)

The supply boats began arriving on Wednesday, as first responders were still battling the blaze and recovering bodies amid burned-out homes and businesses. Two days later, they hadn’t slowed. On Friday, they began arriving early, and volunteers had tents set up to sort the goods: a pile of men’s pants here, a pyramid of diapers there and vast mounds of bottled water.

“We lost everything. We lost our town,” said Jerica Naki, whose home in Lahaina was destroyed. “That’s why we’re here.”

On this day, the volunteer boats largely came from neighboring islands, Oahu and Molokai, northwest of Maui in the Hawaiian archipelago, traveling far on choppy seas. Naki was helping sort donations and she described an emotional whirlwind, from escaping with nothing to seeing a staggering amount of volunteer support for those who have been displaced like her.

[These maps show where wildfires are burning in Hawaii]

“A lot of us are born and raised here,” Naki said, looking around as the chain of volunteers hauled in boxes of tinned sausage. “There’s a l xd ot of pride in Lahaina, so it hurts, a lot. But this is all we have here now, each other, and we’re making do.”

As the response has worn on, the greatest needs have shifted. There is now plenty of nonperishable food and bottled water. Generators, fuel and Starlink satellite internet systems would be most useful, volunteers say.

Sheryl Nakanelua knew instinctively where she needed to go when she fled her Lahaina home as flames spread. She made her way to Kahana and set up a tent across from Lumlung’s house, where she’ll stay until her family is let back into her subdivision, one of the few that was spared.

“This is our family place, it’s home,” she said of the Kahana neighborhood. “This is the best part to be at. It’s what’s keeping us positive.”

Other such spots have popped up. Napili Plaza, once a destination for groceries, ribs and tattoos, is now a donation drop-off center. And some 100 cars lined up for free gas near the town’s former railroad station. Coordinating the boats and other donation sites is a massive task that involves maddening games of phone tag in a place largely without cell service and requires a relentless dedication and extensive Rolodex.

Residents like Zane Schweitzer have both. Schweitzer, whose family has lived around Lahaina for generations, has spent nearly every hour of the last 48 working his walkie-talkie and phone, frantically arranging aid from around Maui, Hawaii and the mainland. Working with the Oahu-based youth nonprofit Na Kama Kai, he helped coordinate one of Friday’s largest deliveries.

Officials said most of Lahaina, the historic town in West Maui, was destroyed when hurricane winds pushed fires to the coast.

On the south side of Lahaina, in Olowalu, Eddy and Sam Garcia are transforming their groundbreaking sustainable farm into a shelter for those who have lost their homes. The married couple, who themselves have lost farmland and fruit crops worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, are setting up temporary housing, a massive solar power system and a satellite internet connection that they’ll open to anyone who needs it.

“In the immediate moment, people need shelter, they need food, they need water, they need a place to get on the internet so they can look for their loved ones,” said Eddy Garcia, who grew up in Lahaina. “We’re shifting all of our attention to trying to feed and house our neighbors.”

The Olowalu farm is uniquely well-prepared to handle this sort of disaster. Run by the Garcias’ nonprofit, Regenerative Education Centers, it was already operating off the grid, with its own power, plumbing and food. The nonprofit has launched a fundraiser to help pay for the fire effort, which will continue as long as there’s a need.

The property, even after being raked by the fire’s severe winds, is verdant and shaded by tall mango trees. On Friday, volunteers and staff readied the farm to fill any needs. They butchered and smoked a wild pig, set up new solar panels and scoured the internet for portable toilets. Eddy Garcia whirred with adrenaline, his satellite-connected cellphone ringing every few minutes with someone offering help.

For locals like him, helping his neighbors is not only about their survival, but about preserving the island’s identity and keeping it livable for those whose families have been here for generations.

“It’s not about these giant hotels on the beach and all the big companies, but trying to take care of local people,” he said. “This is not a visitor’s destination spot, this is the kingdom of Hawaii. That hit the heart of it in Lahaina. It hurts to even talk about it.”

His phone rang again and he stood up to leave.

“I’m like a ball of rubber bands right now,” he said, “and the only thing keeping me going is I got to organize these things.”

——

[More photos and links to the latest news in and after article]

[impossiblesuitcase]

Tomorrow

Benoit Farms and Gardens was cold and windy, but if it weren’t for the gust rattling the timber beams of the ancient homestead, Kai would have never known. It was warm and peaceful with the three of them: himself and the soon-to-be Benoit-Kesleys.

Scarlet hummed away as she doused the dinner and dessert dishes in the soapy kitchen sink. Wolf regaled Kai with his adventures of chasing escaping pigs as he tackled the pots and pans. The dishwasher had broken after Wolf—attempting to pull out the top rack—underestimated his force and mistakenly swung his fist right into the heating element (“he still isn’t quite adept to his new bioengineered strength,” Scarlet had explained). They planned to enlist Cinder to fix it sometime during her stay, and until then, they mutually agreed to force Thorne and Jacin into dishwashing duty.

Like this, the two were perfectly in their element, calm and unflappable. Completely unlike the frustrated pair he had met when he’d arrived that afternoon, and with him, hundreds of paparazzi vultures. Scarlet’s course of yelling, Wolf keeping her from shoving her pitchfork into multiple eyes, reminded Kai—with a touch of fear—that she was the scary one in the relationship.

It was distressing to be the one to break their closely guarded serenity, even if he couldn’t control the press.

Although it wasn’t entirely him fracturing the peace. A good chunk of the journalists had been there to report on the ‘first Lunar-Earthen marriage since the Second Era’. Scarlet was clearly uncomfortable with this invasive, nascent fame, and from her lengthy ranting, was clearly hoping it would pass after the wedding.

“—And when I finally got her back in the pen, I realised I left the gate open,” Wolf continued.

“And the piglets escaped?” guessed Kai.

“The piglets escaped.”

Kai chuckled heartily hearing the genuine disappointment in Wolf’s voice. He was a far cry from the ferocious killer Kai had been afraid of on the Rampion. Whipped cream in the corners of his lips, wrapped in a bright red polka-dot apron, sulking over baby pigs, Kai wasn’t sure this man could kill a fly if he tried.

Kai’s hands were wrapped around a homely, slightly misshapen mug. The handle was a little wonky, the paint splotchy, yet upon seeing the sloppy inscription on the base, Scarlet, agedd 7, he treated it as the finest china. A long sip of the hot chocolate inside travelled to his belly and warmed his core. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relaxed.

“It’s nice to have you here before everyone else,” said Wolf, scrubbing a cast iron pan.

“Well, I am the very best of the guests coming,” Kai teased.

Scarlet spun around and flicked water at him. He dodged with a laugh. “Wolf means that we’re happy to spend some time with you before the fanfare of our loud friends.”

Kai rested the mug on a coaster and held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. You’re right—when was the last time it was just the three of us?”

A collective pause. Wolf even stopped attacking the pan.

Then, in unison, “Never.”

They all fell into laughter.

“Wow,” he drawled, “Does that mean I’m a bad friend? Or are you bad friends?”

“Maybe we’ve all been busy,” Scarlet chastised, dunking a plate in the water.

Kai sighed, running his finger around the rim of the mug. It was nice to be here in this little bubble of friendship and familiarity and comfort, yet he couldn’t help being reminded of how rare this was. Aside from a few brief catchups with Cress and Thorne, the occasional diplomatic dinner with Winter, and the Peace Ball last year with all of them, he’d barely seen his friends since the revolution.

He’d barely seen his girlfriend since the revolution.

Tomorrow. He would see her tomorrow.

“I hope we’re all less busy in the future,” he wondered idly. “We don’t get to do much together, do we?”

Wolf grunted in agreement. Scarlet said nothing.

The mood turned too sombre too fast.

“Well, it’s not like we can help it,” Kai amended quickly. “We all have different lives, different path–”

“No,” said Scarlet, back still turned. “No, we will see each other. We won’t grow apart.” She drew two wine glasses from the sink. It was precarious holding just the stems with slippery fingers, but she handled them with ease. “What’s the point of life if you never see your friends?”

What’s the point of life if you never see your friends?”

(What’s the point of life if you never see the love of your life?)

Tomorrow.

“You’re right.” Kai dragged a hand down his face. “Stars, I didn’t mean to be depressing. I think…the long distance is getting to me.”

“I admire you, Kai,” Wolf commented. “To be apart from the most important person to you for that long…I know I couldn’t handle it.”

“Everyone knows.” Scarlet nudged his side with her elbow. “You went more than a little crazy last time I was kidnapped.”

Redness crept up his ears, though he didn’t appear ashamed. “I couldn’t help it. Not when it’s you.”

She scoffed, but her smile was tender.

Kai’s heart warmed watching them. “Are you excited to be married?”

“Yes,” Wolf said immediately as Scarlet shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Wolf blinked.

Kai blinked. 

Enough silence passed that Scarlet finally glanced over her shoulder. With two sets of confused male eyes upon her, she jolted. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Wolf crossed his arms, soap caught amongst the forest of hair. “What did you mean?”

“Well, of course I’m thrilled to be married to you, Ze’ev. I just don’t really think excited is the right word. Excited is like…something new. Something you don’t already have. You’re excited for the unknown.” She draped her kitchen towel over her shoulder and crossed the two steps to him, tucking her hands around his waist. His arms came around her instantly. “With you, I know exactly what I’m getting. It’s what I already have. I’m ecstatic, elated, emotional…all the words. But it’s not unknown.”

Wolf pulled her closer. “I knew what you meant,” he whispered, “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

When they kissed, Kai looked down at his drink.

Scarlet pulled away and pushed the steel scrubber back into his hand, winking. “Get back to work. You’re just acting offended so you can get out of chores.”

Wolf scowled. “I’ve been scrubbing for ten minutes and it’s not coming off!”

“Use those strong muscles of yours.”

Kai couldn’t help tuning out their back and forth as his mind focused on her words. It’s not unknown. I know exactly what I’m getting. It’s what I already have. He wished it were the same for him. Yet he and Cinder only barely knew what they had. They hadn’t been together enough to be together; to learn about each other as intimately as Scarlet and Wolf, even as Winter and Jacin or Cress and Thorne had. The ring in the inner pocket of his suitcase burnt a hole in his mind. Too weighty, too heavy a promise of the known when all they had was latent unknown—

“So why do you bring up marriage, Kai?” Scarlet asked, almost succeeding at casualness. “Been thinking about it yourself?”

Wait, had he been speaking out loud?

He seized up his now cool drink and finished it off in a single draught. The milk coated his throat uncomfortably. A cough. “Well, I mean, when a couple have been together for a few years it naturally comes to mind.”

“Get real,” Scarlet laughed. “You’ve been wanting to marry Cinder since the moment she tranquilised your wedding planner and kidnapped you.”

“...Maybe.”

“What’s wrong then?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong between us. I-I love her; she loves me. We’re just…not ready to take that step yet.”

“Fair,” said Wolf, still scrubbing. Kai thought of offering to help, but they’d already turned him down when he’d insisted he clean after dinner, and he thought doing so now might hurt Wolf’s pride. Relinquishing the tool, Wolf turned to face him. “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

“I don’t know. We probably need to spend more time actually together to figure it out.”

“Time to figure out what? How you feel? If you’re right for each other?” Scarlet wiped over the last plate and pulled the plug. The sink gurgled loudly as water pooled down the drain.

He knitted his fingers together. “I already know how I feel. I know we’re right for each other.”

“That sounds like a man ready to propose.”

Kai’s gaze darted up to her, jaw slack.

She had a loving authority on her face. “Sooo, you’re ready. Is Cinder ready too?”

“I…I think maybe. But as you said: you and Wolf know. There are no unknowns between you. You’ve been together all this time to learn that. Cinder and I…”

“—Have talked every day over comms, have spent every possible moment in each other’s arms?” Wolf listed.

“Okay, when’s her birthday?” Scarlet probed.

“December 21st. But every year she forgets and still thinks it’s the fake birthday the cyborg surgeons gave her: November 29th. She goes around saying the wrong age for at least a month.”

“What’s her favorite colour?”

“Midnight blue.” (Because it made him look handsome, Cinder had bashfully admitted.)

“How many children does she want?”

Cheeks burning, he uttered, “Three. We both want three.”

Scarlet smiled smugly. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like there’s much unknown.”

Before he even thought of a response, she pulled out the chair opposite him and sat, grasping his hands into hers. Wolf circled the table, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Eyes sparkling, Scarlet squeezed. “Kai. If you think you’re ready, then there’s no need to wait. All the things that are still unknown will just be…happy bonuses. And the bad unknowns will just make your relationship all the more stronger when you conquer them together. You don’t need to know it all yet.”

“And proposing is a commitment to each other,” Wolf added. “You’ll have time to learn the rest before you actually get married. Some things can wait.” A shrug. “Maybe I won’t finish that pan tonight, but I’m sure I will tomorrow.”

Kai looked up at him. “It’s bugging you that much?”

“I don’t understand,” he growled, “I’ve soaked it twice now.”

Kai disentangled his hands from Scarlet’s, digging them into his lap. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am ready, but—how do I know if she is?”

“Well, you’ll be seeing her very soon. Try to get a sense for it,” she suggested.

“And if she is…propose the next time we see each other?”

“Psh. That could be months with how busy you two are.” A flick of the hand. “If she’s ready now, propose now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Now? As in, here? As in: the next few days?”

“Sure.”

“Bu–no. I couldn’t. This is about you two. Your wedding. I can’t take that from you.”

“Honey,” Scarlet smiled up at her fiancé. “Would seeing our two friends finally get their happy ending be a nice wedding gift?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

She grinned. “Just do it, Kai. If it’s right, don’t wait when there’s no reason—oh, hang on. Unless you wanted to propose with a ring.”

Heart hammering, Kai glances down at his feet, hair covering his eyes. “I…actually brought the ring with me.”

“Ha! All this ‘I’m not ready,’ but ‘I’ll bring the ring with me’?’”

“Yeah, I know.” He took in a breath. “The only reason I’m delaying is because, well, I’m nervous!”

“So was I,” said Wolf warmly. “So nervous that she ended up having to propose for me.”

“It will be fine,” Scarlet assured, red hair flaming under the yellow ceiling light, as fiery as her effervescent constitution. “Don’t let happiness wait, Kai.”

Waiting for the antidote. Waiting to find Princess Selene. Waiting for Cinder to wake up in her hospital bed, bleeding and bruised but alive.

They don’t have to wait anymore.

His eyes welled up suddenly, too fast to rein in. He choked back a wet laugh. “Sorry”—a sniff— “I don’t know what came over me.”

Scarlet’s chair screeched against the tiles as she launched away, rounding the table and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. Bulky, comforting arms circled them both.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Family. This was his family, as all his friends were, as Cinder was and always would be. When he had hesitantly informed Torin of his plans to propose, it had vaguely felt like what it would have been to tell his father.

Telling Scarlet sort of felt like telling his mother.

Collecting some of his emotions, he extricated himself. “Okay, but if I do propose here, don’t go acting like this wasn’t your plan.”

“Aw,” Wolf groaned. “I wanted to make you look bad.”

“I’ll buy you a new skillet.”

“You have my blessing.”

They all laughed and all smiled, and that was precisely when exhaustion started knocking on the door alerting Kai to the fact that he’d had a long day.

“You look exhausted. Off to bed,” Scarlet commanded, apt as ever. Kai went along willingly as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

He yawned, leaning against the banister of the stairs. “What did you put in that drink, Scar? Crushed up sleeping pills?”

She posed a finger over her lips. “Trade secret.”

With one last warm glance, Kai left his friends in the kitchen and headed up to the guest room, the final image of Wolf kissing Scarlet’s cheek lingering in the air. It would only be his for the night; Winter and Jacin would have it tomorrow, while he’d bunk out with the others in the Rampion. Maybe he and Cinder could even stay in the same room.

The first thing he did once inside was pull open his suitcase. He hadn’t touched it since arriving except to retrieve the small gift for his hosts, an old-fashioned analogue clock set inside a chicken figurine. It had seemed so perfectly them when he first saw it. He just hoped they wouldn’t netsearch the artist listed on the base, as he was sure they would keel over when they saw the 1,300 univ price tag.

Carefully, he reached into the inner pocket of his suitcase and procured the fated ring box. A moment of reflection, reverence even, then he opened it…

And there it was. A ruby ringed in immaculate diamonds. A band of carefully burnished gold. His mother’s ring. His grandmother’s ring, and his great-grandmother’s.

His wife’s ring.

It was not heavy or burning in his mind any longer. It was a token. A promise, one that filled him with greater certainty than he had yet felt. A certainty that had been birthed and reared and matured since that first look in a humid New Beijing market.

Tomorrow. He would see her tomorrow.

Notes

I have three fics I’ve been trying to finish for a year and then I finish this in two days. What is brain function.

So in my headcanon, Kai doesn’t really ‘plan’ to propose at the farm. He just feels like it’s right and so he does. So as to not take away from Scarlet and Wolf’s special day, he and Cinder keep the engagement a secret for a while. But a tumblr ask prompted me to think about if Scarlet and Wolf knew and approved, and thus this was born. Still not sure which explanation I prefer.

(btw just letting you know that if someone hasn't interacted with my fics for a while, I remove them from my list, so if you get removed and want to be re-addded, let me know!)

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @zephyr-thedragon @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @vincentvangothic

[little-red-notebook]

screamin’ green: if you could give them a custom profession, what would it be? what unique tools of the trade item would be associated with this profession, if any? (for both Clarence and Peter)

Hmm! I suppose there’s an argument that Clarence is a black market dealer, as a significant portion of his income is from dealing in writings of the more proscribed variety. But I think ‘bookseller’ is what he sees himself as, and what better matches his priorities – the black market side he would say is just a regrettable result of a flawed system’s definition of what should and shouldn’t be illegal. 

But a lot of what he does is not just buying and selling, but restoring, rebinding, decorating, and sometimes full-on copying books. So for specialized tools of the trade, I think a reliable bone folder or a box of brass finishing tools is what I'd give him. Stats: Shadowy +6, Persuasive +6, Bizarre +1, Mithridacy +1, gives discounts when doing "Epistolary Matters" social actions as a nod to the Incandescent Bookseller giving out stat-boosting books. (Half the reason I made Clarence an actual account and started playing it was JUST so I could get to the point I could send friends ‘books’!) 

As for Peter…. OKAY, given this blog’s theme, this probably won’t come as a shock, but Peter was aimed directly at Journalist from nearly day one of his account, and if I could keep the little red notebook to put on his profile and still have a T3 profession, I would in a heartbeat! Aaaah, at least he will always have the Doubt Street carousel and his beloved newspaper affiliation! 

That said, I DO have a custom club pitch for Peter: The Candlefinder Society! As much as he's done his best struggling through the epic adventures that make up a Fallen London PC’s average Tuesday, Peter is a street-level character at heart, with his weakness for puzzles and a desire to help… which is exactly what Candlefinder is offering. I’ve loved throwing him into every one of these new stories, and it fits him conceptually much better than any of the existing clubs. I'd love to have a recurring card flavored for meeting at the Missing Candle to chat or solve less noteworthy cases! 

I feel like you could argue the stats a lot of different ways, but consider: +1 to each BDR and +5 watchful. You could make it just +1 watchful and add to one of the BDR stats to put it more in line with other clubs, but I admit, I really don't know which of the three would win out for that crew!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

https://www.wsj.com/world/middle-east/gaza-chiefs-brutal-calculation-civilian-bloodshed-will-help-hamas-626720e7

Gaza Chief’s Brutal Calculation: Civilian Bloodshed Will Help Hamas

By: Summer Said and Rory Jones

Published: Jun 10, 2024

For months, Yahya Sinwar has resisted pressure to cut a ceasefire-and-hostages deal with Israel. Behind his decision, messages the Hamas military leader in Gaza has sent to mediators show, is a calculation that more fighting—and more Palestinian civilian deaths—work to his advantage.

“We have the Israelis right where we want them,” Sinwar said in a recent message to Hamas officials seeking to broker an agreement with Qatari and Egyptian officials.

Fighting between Israeli forces and Hamas units in the Gaza Strip’s south has disrupted humanitarian-aid shipments, caused mounting civilian casualties and intensified international criticism of Israel’s efforts to eradicate the Islamist extremist group.

For much of Sinwar’s political life, shaped by bloody conflict with an Israeli state that he says has no right to exist, he has stuck to a simple playbook. Backed into a corner, he looks to violence for a way out. The current fight in Gaza is no exception.

In dozens of messages—reviewed by The Wall Street Journal—that Sinwar has transmitted to cease-fire negotiators, Hamas compatriots outside Gaza and others, he’s shown a cold disregard for human life and made clear he believes Israel has more to lose from the war than Hamas. The messages were shared by multiple people with differing views of Sinwar.

More than 37,000 people have been killed in Gaza since the start of the war, most of them civilians, Palestinian officials say. The figure doesn’t specify how many were combatants. Health authorities said almost 300 Palestinians were killed Saturday in an Israeli raid that rescued four hostages kept in captivity in homes surrounded by civilians—driving home for some Palestinians their role as pawns for Hamas.

In one message to Hamas leaders in Doha, Sinwar cited civilian losses in national-liberation conflicts in places such as Algeria, where hundreds of thousands of people died fighting for independence from France, saying, “these are necessary sacrifices.”

In an April 11 letter to Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh after three of Haniyeh’s adult sons were killed by an Israeli airstrike, Sinwar wrote that their deaths and those of other Palestinians would “infuse life into the veins of this nation, prompting it to rise to its glory and honor.”

Sinwar isn’t the first Palestinian leader to embrace bloodshed as a means to pressure Israel. But the scale of the collateral damage in this war—civilians killed and destruction wrought—is unprecedented between Israelis and Palestinians.

Despite Israel’s ferocious effort to kill him, Sinwar has survived and micromanaged Hamas’s war effort, drafting letters, sending messages to cease-fire negotiators and deciding when the U.S.-designated terrorist group ramps up or dials back its attacks.

His ultimate goal appears to be to win a permanent cease-fire that allows Hamas to declare a historic victory by outlasting Israel and claim leadership of the Palestinian national cause.

President Biden is trying to force Israel and Hamas to halt the war. But Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is opposed to permanently ending the fight before what he calls “total victory” over Hamas.

Even without a lasting truce, Sinwar believes Netanyahu has few options other than occupying Gaza and getting bogged down fighting a Hamas-led insurgency for months or years.

It is an outcome that Sinwar foreshadowed six years ago when he first became leader in the Gaza Strip. Hamas might lose a war with Israel, but it would cause an Israeli occupation of more than two million Palestinians.

“For Netanyahu, a victory would be even worse than a defeat,” Sinwar told an Italian journalist writing in 2018 in an Israeli daily, Yedioth Ahronoth.

Sinwar, now in his early 60s, was roughly 5 years old when the 1967 war brought him his first experience of significant violence between Israelis and Arabs. That brief fight reordered the Middle East. Israel took control of the Golan Heights from Syria and the West Bank from Jordan. It also captured the Sinai Peninsula from Egypt, as well as the Gaza Strip, where Sinwar grew up in a United Nations-run refugee camp.

The conflict was a constant presence. Sinwar published a novel in 2004 while in Israeli prison and wrote in the preface that it was based on his own experiences. In the book, a father digs a deep hole in the yard of the refugee camp during the 1967 war, covering it with wood and metal to make a shelter.

A young son waits in the hole with his family, crying and hearing the sounds of explosions grow louder as the Israeli army approaches. The boy tries to climb out, only for his mother to yell: “It’s war out there! Don’t you know what war means?”

Sinwar joined the movement that eventually became Hamas in the 1980s, becoming close to founder Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, and setting up an internal-security police that hunted and killed suspected informants, according to the transcript of his confession to Israeli interrogators in 1988.

He received multiple life sentences for murder and spent 22 years in prison before being freed in a swap along with a thousand other Palestinians in 2011 for Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit.

During the negotiations between Israel and Hamas over the Shalit swap, Sinwar was influential in pushing for the freedom of Palestinians who were jailed for murdering Israelis.

He wanted to release even those who were involved in bombings that had killed large numbers of Israelis and was so maximalist in his demands that Israel put him in solitary confinement so he wouldn’t disrupt progress.

When he became leader of Hamas in Gaza in 2017, violence was a constant in his repertoire. Hamas had wrested control of Gaza from the Palestinian Authority in a bloody conflict a decade earlier, and while Sinwar moved early in his tenure to reconcile Hamas with other Palestinian factions, he warned that he would “break the neck” of anyone who stood in the way.

In 2018, Sinwar supported weekly protests at the fence between Gaza and Israeli territory. Fearful of a breach in the barrier, the Israeli military fired on Palestinians and agitators who came too close. It was all part of the plan.

“We make the headlines only with blood,” Sinwar said in the interview at the time with an Italian journalist. “No blood, no news.”

In 2021, reconciliation talks between Hamas and Palestinian factions appeared to be progressing toward legislative and presidential elections for the Palestinian Authority, the first in 15 years. But at the last moment, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas canceled polls. With the political track closed, Sinwar days later turned to bloodshed to change the status quo, firing rockets on Jerusalem amid tensions between Israelis and Palestinians in the city. The ensuing 11-day conflict killed 242 Palestinians and 12 people in Israel.

Israeli airstrikes caused such damage that Israeli officials believed Sinwar would be deterred from again attacking Israelis.

But the opposite happened: Israeli officials now believe Sinwar then began planning the Oct. 7 attacks. One aim was to end the paralysis in resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and revive its global diplomatic importance, said Arab and Hamas officials familiar with Sinwar’s thinking.

Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories had lasted more than half a century, and Netanyahu’s far-right coalition partners were talking about annexing land in the West Bank that Palestinians wanted for a future state. Saudi Arabia, once a champion of the Palestinian cause, was in talks to normalize relations with Israel.

Though Sinwar planned and greenlighted the Oct. 7 attacks, early messages to cease-fire negotiators show he seemed surprised by the brutality of Hamas’s armed wing and other Palestinians, and how easily they committed civilian atrocities.

“Things went out of control,” Sinwar said in one of his messages, referring to gangs taking civilian women and children as hostages. “People got caught up in this, and that should not have happened.”

This became a talking point for Hamas to explain away the Oct. 7 civilian toll.

Early in the war, Sinwar focused on using the hostages as a bargaining chip to delay an Israeli ground operation in Gaza. A day after Israeli soldiers entered the strip, Sinwar said Hamas was ready for an immediate deal to exchange its hostages for the release of all Palestinian prisoners held in Israel.

But Sinwar had misread how Israel would react to Oct. 7. Netanyahu declared Israel was going to destroy Hamas and said the only way to force the group to release hostages was through military pressure.

Sinwar appears to have also misinterpreted the support that Iran and Lebanese militia Hezbollah were willing to offer.

When Hamas political chief Haniyeh and deputy Saleh al-Arouri traveled to Tehran in November for a meeting with Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, they were told that Tehran backed Hamas but wouldn’t be entering the conflict.

“He was partly misled by them and partly misled himself,” said Ehud Yaari, an Israeli commentator who has known Sinwar since his days in prison. “He was extremely disappointed.”

By November, Hamas’s political leadership privately began distancing themselves from Sinwar, saying he launched the Oct. 7 attacks without telling them, Arab officials who spoke to Hamas said.

At the end of November, Israel and Hamas agreed to a cease-fire and the release of some hostages held by the militants. But the deal collapsed after a week.

As Israel’s army quickly dismantled Hamas’s military structures, the group’s political leadership began meeting other Palestinian factions in early December to discuss reconciliation and a postwar plan. Sinwar wasn’t consulted.

Sinwar in a message sent to the political leaders blasted the end-around as “shameful and outrageous.”

“As long as fighters are still standing and we have not lost the war, such contacts should be immediately terminated,” he said. “We have the capabilities to continue fighting for months.”

On Jan. 2, Arouri was killed in a suspected Israeli strike in Beirut, and Sinwar began to change the way he communicated, said Arab officials. He used aliases and relayed notes only through a handful of trusted aides and via codes, switching between audio, messages spoken to intermediaries and written messages, they said.

Still, his communications indicate he began to feel things were turning Hamas’s way.

By the end of that month, Israel’s military advance had slowed to a grueling battle in the city of Khan Younis, Sinwar’s hometown. Israel began to lose more troops. On Jan. 23, about two dozen Israeli troops were killed in central and southern Gaza, the invasion’s deadliest day for the military.

Arab mediators hastened to speed up talks about a cease-fire, and on Feb. 19, Israel set a deadline of Ramadan—a month later—for Hamas to return the hostages or face a ground offensive in Rafah, what Israeli officials described as the militant group’s last stronghold.

Sinwar in a message urged his comrades in Hamas’s political leadership outside Gaza not to make concessions and instead to push for a permanent end to the war. High civilian casualties would create worldwide pressure on Israel, Sinwar said. The group’s armed wing was ready for the onslaught, Sinwar’s messages said.

“Israel’s journey in Rafah won’t be a walk in the park,” Sinwar told Hamas leaders in Doha in a message.

At the end of February, an aid delivery in Gaza turned deadly as Israeli forces fired on Palestinian civilians crowding trucks, adding U.S. pressure on Israel to limit casualties.

Disagreements among Israel’s wartime leaders erupted into public view, as Netanyahu failed to articulate a postwar governance plan for Gaza and his defense minister, Yoav Gallant, privately warned against reoccupying the strip. Israelis grew concerned the country was losing the war.

In May, Israel again threatened to attack Rafah if cease-fire talks remained deadlocked, a move Hamas viewed as purely a negotiating tactic.

Netanyahu said Israel needed to expand into Rafah to destroy Hamas’s military structure there and disrupt smuggling from Egypt.

Sinwar’s response: Hamas fired on Kerem Shalom crossing May 5, killing four soldiers. Hamas officials outside Gaza began to echo Sinwar’s confident posture.

Israel has since launched its Rafah operation. But as Sinwar predicted, it has come at a humanitarian and diplomatic cost.

Sinwar’s messages, meanwhile, indicate he’s willing to die in the fighting.

In a recent message to allies, the Hamas leader likened the war to a 7th-century battle in Karbala, Iraq, where the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad was controversially slain.

“We have to move forward on the same path we started,” Sinwar wrote. “Or let it be a new Karbala.”

[ Via: MSN ]

--

Douglas Murray on "we love death more than you love life."

For 25 years or so, I've been thinking about the taunt that the jihadists - whether they are from Al-Qaeda, from Hamas, from ISIS - the taunt that they make to freedom loving people to citizens of liberal democracies. They always have the same taunt. They say, "we love death more than you love life."

And I've heard this for such a long time. And I've heard it from people who've killed friends of mine from Afghanistan to France, and I've always founded it an incredibly disturbing taunt. It seems almost something you couldn't-- it's almost insuperable, almost unsolvable. What would you do with an enemy that genuinely, genuinely loves death more than we love life.

But recent months in this country have enormously inspired me. Because I've realized, of course, there is a very obvious answer to it. Which is that there is no crime in loving life this much. We will not apologize for loving life. We will not apologize if you bring up your children to hate that we bring up our children to love. We will not apologize if you indoctrinate your children into totally inconsequent and unproductive hatred, if we bring them up to live productive and meaning-filled lives.

And, in the end, it seems to me, actually now between these two world visions, the people who love death that much have no chance of winning against the people of life.

==

Hamas, like Islam itself, is a death cult.

[oh-miniso]

WHITE, GOLD & BLUE || TRIGUN STAMPEDE

PAIRING: VASH X MERYL

°☆° warning: interchaning use of names - Vash & Eriks, characters may seem occ, slight angst, not proofread

⚠ do not copy, edit or repost in any other platform

hearts & reblogs are appreciated <3

When Meryl found Vash in a dingy small town, he was unrecognizable with long unkempt hair hiding his face and hollow eyes and no sign of his usual 1000 watts smile or his signature prosthetic and red coat. This man was Vash yet at the same time he wasn't. Lina told her the man was called Eirks.

But it wasn't just Vash who has changed. Meryl was worlds away from her self before JuLai. She no longer donned her white ensemble with blue beret and gold earrings. Now 2 years later, she was all dull and camouflage tones, replacing her precious gold earrings with thin silver ones. Meryl was no longer the young, wild blood chasing after the Humanoid Typhoon but a survivor and fighter - Derringer Meryl.

The first time Vash or rather Eriks saw her in the pub, he felt something was wrong with her person though he couldn't figure out what or why. Lina told him the woman was a journalist working for the Bernardelli News Agency. Try as he might Eriks was unable to tear his eyes away from her form, still searching for faults he couldn't find but subconsciously knew were there. It was only when Lina called him away for lunch that Eriks unwillingly removed his eyes from Meryl's form.

The next time Eriks saw her was during the night - Meryl was sitting in the far corner scribbling furiously in a notebook with a drink on the table. The scene was achingly familiar. Vash remembered white clothes and a blue beret. The face of the owner of the clothes was blurry but the memory brought a small wave of melancholy. He felt he had forgotten someone dear to him.

The next few days Eriks kept observing Meryl from his spot in the pub as she went about her day. He noticed a few things about her:

She was small but ferocious with a determined gaze He wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of her gaze

She kept her notebook on her person at all times and would flip through the pages frequently

She carried around a derringer as if it was an old friend

Whenever she caught him staring, a forlorn smile would grace her face and she'd look away

Dull or nude colours weren't her colors at all

Colors

Colors

Dull colors!

That was what was wrong. Those damn colors were setting him off.

With a flame of irritation burning hot, Vash dragged a stunned Merly away to his room, calling for Lina in the process.

"Lina Lina! Bring me my whitest shirt immediately! And my earring. And a blue handkerchief too."

These dull clothes would have to go.

Right now!

Turning to Meryl while frantically pawing at her clothes he told her, "Ms. Stryfe please stop squirming. I'm irritated enough as it is." This made Meryl squirm even more. "Who the hell tries to strip someone and expects them to take it peacefully?" shouted Meryl though it was ignored by a determined Vash.

The moment Vash heard Lina outside his room, the ripped the door off and snatched the clothes rather rudely Lina thought and resumed his mission of getting Meryl out of her clothes and into the white shirt. Off came those silver earrings next to be replaced with his single golden hoop. He regretted not having any blue hat so he made do with a headscarf of sorts as well as he could with one hand.

With the ensemble finally complete, Vash calmed down and stood beside Lina to appraise his work on a flabbergasted Meryl.

"Yes. White, gold and blue. These are your colors. Not those damned dull ones. Please never wear them again. I beg you. I don't remember you yet but I beg you. Please!" His voice cracked at the end and he rushed to envelop Meryl in a tight embrace - a silent promise to not let go.

Meryl Stryfe was White - Innocence & Simplicity.

Meryl Stryfe was Gold - Compassion & Courage.

Meryl Stryfe was Blue - Stability & Trust.

Meryl Stryfe was Vash the Stampede's Home.

[choupistickfaitdesbetises]

I am Charmie.

I know that there are different currents of thought, and that everyone is free to interpret and believe what they want.

I am one of those who has no doubts and who believes in it ferociously.

That doesn't stop me from thinking and being realistic about what I read or see, even if it doesn't always match what I would like. Certainly life experience. Not everything is black or white and life is unfortunately not always a fairy tale.

Why say that?

In reaction to the phrase “he has never had sex with a man”…

I am absolutely not shocked to read this…. First, it's narrative. It is the reporter who narrates and these are not the words spoken by Armie, while there are transcriptions of exact sentences spoken by him in the article. It's a detail, but for me, it's important.

Also, Armie agreed to give an interview, the 1st in 2 years. He was there to tell his story, and for once someone listened and gave him a voice. But we must not forget that he was facing a journalist and not in a confessional or in a court….

I did not expect him to come out in a press article. This was neither the time nor the place…Loving or having sex with a man were not the topics here…it would have made the headlines and the rest would have gone by the wayside . This interview would have been“pschitt” and would never have achieved the intended goal.

I remain convinced that Charmie is alive and more than ever. And I totally get that it's something they cherish and don't want to expose to the general public. There are other matters to settle for Armie.

One more thing: the only picture of Armie with a co-star in the article is the one with Tim at the Oscars, the only interview is with CMBYN producer Howard Rosenman and of course the reminder of Luca's statement…that means a lot to me…

I'm not trying to convince anyone, I'm Charmie, I love Armie and Tim and no matter what, I'm going to believe it until the end.

💙💚

[mariacallous]

Right then, while you fumble for your credit cards, I will talk about the rise of fakery: fake news, fake images, fake audio, fake politics.

Let me begin with someone I know. I admire Michela Wrong enormously. She does what journalists are meant to do: she afflicts the comfortable and comforts the afflicted.

Her beat was Africa, and Michela spent her career puncturing the West’s illusions about its rulers.

After Paul Kagame’s forces overthrew Rwanda’s genocidal Hutu regime in 1994, the world wanted to believe in a fairy story. The mass murder of Rwanda’s Tutsi population would be followed by peace, reconciliation and justice, it thought, as it threw praise and money at Kagame’s government.

Rwanda became the darling of the global aid industry. Under New Labour and the Tories, Kagame was feted.

Now our Conservative government declares that Rwanda is such a serene and safe country, Britain can dump asylum seekers there without the smallest concern for their safety or the faintest suspicion that corrupt officials will siphon off taxpayers’ money.

It was such a compelling story.  Kagame and his idealistic group of young rebel fighters overthrow a genocidal regime ushering in an era of peace and stability. Under his leadership Rwanda became the West’s donor darling, hailed as Africa’s “Switzerland” or “Singapore”

The compelling story was also such balls. Michela exposed the lies, and has suffered a campaign of terrifying vilification as a result.

 As AI and deep fake technology advance, not only journalists, politicians and celebrities, but potentially all of us can suffer equally ferocious attacks as calumny becomes ever easier to manufacture.

But first let me tell you what happened to Michela, then I will move on to the wider implications.

 Her Do Not Disturb, and what a sweet title that was for a book about comfortable myths, was published in 2021.

She looked at the regime’s pursuit of opposition leaders, human rights activists and journalists. She showed how its critics were beaten and cowed into silence. And how, in the most high-profile cases, they  “disappeared,” never to be seen again.

Michela has had her own punishment beating

Writing in this morning’s Observer she described how the regime hired a British  PR company to coordinate the online hate attacks. She expected abuse after the book was published but….

What followed still took my breath away. A tide of vilification, expressed in petition form, on specially created websites, in pseudonymous Amazon reviews, and spread by literally hundreds of anonymous social media accounts. Almost all ignored the topic of my book – Kagame’s extraterritorial assassination campaign – while repeating certain tropes. I’d always taken it as read I would be accused of racism. What was extraordinary, though, for a journalist who reported on the 1994 genocide for Reuters and the BBC, was to be accused of “genocide denial”. But there was method in this malevolence. Genocide denial is now an accusation hurled at pretty much any government critic – including members of Kagame’s minority Tutsis who lost loved ones during the genocide. But it’s a crime in Rwanda, carrying a potential 10-year sentence, so I could in theory be arrested if I boarded a plane touching down in Kigali. When a Brussels restaurant owner cancelled my event after a tsunami of tweets and emails, I wondered if I even needed to worry about being arrested in Belgium. Rwandan government supporters have pushed for the EU’s laws on Holocaust denial to embrace supposed “negationists” like me.

Michela now wakes screaming in the night. Her nightmares convince her that Rwandan agents have broken into her flat.

“In the morning, I sometimes find chairs, duvets and pillows stuffed against the front door: my anxiety has bubbled up in my sleep. A therapist would probably mutter ‘PTSD’.”

As everyone who has been on the receiving end of hate campaigns knows, they work. Years of accusations that Michaela is a “racist” and “genocide denier” meant that…

“Anyone thinking of inviting me to speak at a conference or write an article will, on Googling my name, be presented with a list of accusations only the most stout-hearted – or those who know Rwanda – will casually brush away.”

The experience of Michela Wrong will become commonplace. Here without me needing to go out of my way to find them is a selection of stories from the past few days

Millions of people came across fake sexually explicit AI-generated images of Taylor Swift on social media. The White House Press Secretary told ABC News the Biden administration was "alarmed" by what happened to Swift online and that Congress "should take legislative action."

As it turns out, there is no federal law in the U.S. that would prevent or deter someone from creating and sharing non-consensual deepfake images. But there is a profitable commercial industry that thrives on creating and sharing digitally manufactured sexual content.

Do not think that fakery is confined to the famous

Yesterday the Times told the story of Helen Mort. In 2020 she found a fake porn film with images of her face taken from social media. Like Micheala she was horrified. She was even more horrified when she discovered that “an estimated 95 per cent of deepfakes online are non-consensual porn featuring women”.

As in the US, there is no single criminal offence in England and Wales that governs the taking, making and sharing of intimate images without consent.

On Thursday digital forensic investigators in Germany uncovered a vast, pro-Russia disinformation campaign against the Berlin government. It used tens of thousands of fake accounts on the social media platform X to attack Germany’s support for Ukraine. Russia generated more than 1m German-language posts from an estimated 50,000 fake accounts. They were dispatched at a rate of two every second.

On Friday Scientific American reported on how artificial intelligence was creating fake tapes of high school principals giving racist speeches. It also automatically generated calls, apparently from Joe Biden, urging citizens not to vote.

“Society,” the journal concluded, “may be woefully unprepared to deal with the resulting inevitable wave of digital fraud and the looming implication that any media item could be fraudulent.”

I don't know where that may in Scientific American’s conclusion came from. Society clearly is woefully unprepared,

Hany Farid, a computer science professor at the University of California described how the malicious actors held all the cards. It was incredibly easy to perpetrate a fraud, he explained.

“I record a person and clone their voice. And then I record myself saying what I want them to say with all the intonation—bad words and all—and it converts my voice into their voice. It’s all the same underlying generative AI technology.”

When it came to uncovering fraud, however…

“Detection is harder because it’s subtle; it’s complicated; the bar is always moving higher. I can count on one hand the number of labs in the world that can do this in a reliable way. That’s disconcerting.”

The falsely accused teachers will find it very hard to clear their name. While those who want to believe malicious fakery will feel justified in doing so.

As well as the innocent being falsely accused, the guilty will be able to say that they are innocent victims and AI generated the evidence against them.

As the technology for fakery explodes, and as states like Rwanda that no one believed capable of running propaganda operations and character assassination campaigns try to distort debate, the question arises what do we do.

I disagree with many of my fellow free-speech defenders who think that little or nothing should be done.  We cannot go on with the Clinton era dispensation, which gave legal immunities to tech companies, without the rule of law falling into disrepute.

Everyone caught up in fake news attacks is baffled by the shortage of legal remedies against the AI companies that are profiting from their misery.

But clearly the law can only go so far. A deep fake outfit based in Northern Cyprus or some other bad land is effectively beyond the rule of law.

It strikes me that there are two possible futures.

The first isn’t so bad. People just shrug when dirt is thrown. They assume the evidence poisonous ideologues and movements use against their hate objects is fake.  Or they follow the “ye without sin cast the first stone” principle. Or, and you can see this happening now, they say that when so many are attacked or are capable of being attacked, once shocking accusations lose their sting.

The second is, I am afraid, as likely. 

Every election is swamped with fake news. The defeated side refuses to accept that they lost in a free-and-fair contest. High levels of trust, on which contented and prosperous societies depend, collapse. As more of us become like Michela Wrong and fear the power of the new technologies to destroy us, the more suspicious our world becomes.