#this system is making my little micro-manager heart sing

[lasnevadaslaborunion]

I'm playing Pathfinder for the first time this weekend and this system looks like so much fun

[flopostslove]

So...What ACTUALLY Do You Do?? A Series of Blogs Pt.2

Remember me....

Written by Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez

Remember me.                                                                                               Though I have to say goodbye                                                                  Remember me                                                                                                  Don't let it make you cry                                                                                      For ever if I'm far away...

With a change from the billed blog, I thought today that I'd touch on another service that I offer...

MEMORIAL  CEREMONIES  

In this, the most unprecedented period of peacetime upheaval we will probably ever experience in the Western Hemisphere... (at least... unless there really is a zombie apocalypse approaching....and let’s face it...right now ANYTHING  is possible!) we humans more than ever right now, need to take some form of solace in the things we always turn to in times of need... and that is RITUAL.

I work in the wedding industry predominantly as you all know, but as this virus swiftly takes hold, across our nation and indeed across the globe, the wedding day ritual as we know it is likely to become increasing impossible to deliver. Mass gatherings are soon to be banned and we are all advised to practice social distancing, no shaking of hands, hugging or kissing to avoid cross contamination.

We’re likely to see an increase in micro ceremonies, but only for a short while, as things shut down for a period, but hey ...that’s not what I'm here to talk about today...

I’m here to talk about a completely different ceremony, one that I think can hold equal, if not more importance when it comes to ritual. The Memorial Ceremony  

HOW CAN WE SAY GOODBYE TO OUR LOVED ONE?

From personal experience, I know how very important being able to say that last goodbye is, to be able to hold hands with family members, cry and hug, sing and remember. And it shouldn't matter if it is a large gathering or a small one, we all need that point of closure right? 

I also know that half an hour, 40 minutes, an hour isn't always long enough, and that you can feel like you're on a bit of a conveyor belt especially at the crem...it feels like you're in and out and forever watching the clock to avoid the late running fine...yes...THEY DO fine you in you go over the allotted time slot.

Urgh...that’s no way to say a decent goodbye to anyone! Wouldn't you much rather spend the day, or as long as you'd , somewhere comforting where you can say as much as you want in the exact way that you want, remember and honour your loved one, just as they might have requested? 

We don't all fit into that ‘square hole’ in life why should we in death? 

If your loved one has not elected a church service and committal, or a natural outdoor burial, or one of the other myriad of ways of letting go of their mortal remains... a direct cremation might be the right route for your unconventional soul to take. The modern alternative to a traditional cremation funeral. The cremation takes place completely separately to the personal farewell. Perfect for people who don’t like funerals, and perfect for these uncertain times.

And, lets face it, even if you have already held a feral ceremony, but it was lacking in some way, you can still hold a memorial ceremony to ensure your needs and the way you say goodbye are actually met. 

A life well lived deserves recognition and your loved one a send off with no restrictions on time or location. You can hold this  ceremony anywhere you (or your loved one) wishes; from a back garden to a favourite holiday destination, on the beach or halfway up a mountain!  It is your opportunity to really honour that well-lived  life at your own pace.

When YOU are ready, and the time feels right, this might be the perfect way for you to pay your respects.

As with any ceremony, there is no right or wrong way to do this, religion can be included if you’d like; symbolic elements, music and song...for sure, bring them back to life with the way you choose to honour them...

MY GREAT UNCLE WAS A VERY SIMPLISTIC MAN...  

He wanted a direct cremation when he died and for his ashes to then be sprinkled underneath the oak trees he loved so much in his garden.

For those reading this, a direct cremation involves being taken from the place of rest directly to the crematorium by the funeral director who then returns the ashes to you a few days later. No service is held at the time.

This was the difficult part because I wanted to provide a service of some type for my family whilst respecting the wishes of my late great uncle.

After seeing that you had won the regional celebrant award, I contacted you not knowing where to start. 

I cannot thank you enough for the time and advice you gave to me and am so pleased that you said yes to doing the reading despite only ever having done weddings! 

I wanted to celebrate the life of my late great uncle, and you managed to do this perfectly!!

Being the difficult person that he was and with the very limited information I was able to provide, this was not an easy task for you, but somehow you were able to bring his true character to life and convey this in such a way that it brought levity and comfort to family and friends on what was an emotional day for all.

You have a special gift Michelle and your intuitive nature enabled you to create and deliver a reading that captured my late great uncles personality to a tee.

                                           ~~~~

Thank you once again for the fantastic memorial ceremony and the scattering of Jim’s ashes that you performed yesterday. 

With very little material, for a man who had led a very insular life, you managed to build an amazing eulogy. It was funny, light hearted and sincere all in one.

You are a truly gifted lady and your name and unique skill will be the topic of conversations with our friends and associates in many days to come.

Yesterday followed the direct cremation of Jim and the two events provided the ideal final chapter to our friend’s life and one which would have met with his approval.

                                           ~~~~

MY MUM PASSED AWAY IN MAY...

and had decided on a direct cremation without a service. I wanted to hold a celebration of life service and after much research chose Michelle.

This lady is amazing!

She came to my house to find out all about mum. She then did her own research about when and where mum was born.

Michelle also asked for a list of mum’s favourite songs as she would bring her music system to the service.

We had decided to have the service on the beach to scatter the ashes and then on to the Weeley Bowling Green for a buffet and drink as they have a lovely back room.

On the day of the service the heavens opened so we decided to have the service at the pub rather than the beach. Michelle was fine with this even at short notice. She was waiting at the pub when we arrived and she looked so glamorous! She helped arranged chairs and where pictures should go.

She then did the most amazing personal speech about my mum! About her life, her loves, her likes dislikes. My mum would of loved it.

She then played mum’s songs and chatted to all of the guests.

Later the sun came out so we all went off to the beach to scatter mum’s ashes.

Thank you Michelle for making mum’s day amazing.

[theartificialdane]

Galactica, part 225

In this Violet hears news, Max takes a chance, Courtney hangs up, Jinkx is a friend, Bianca is compromised and Trixie enjoys halloween!

Thank you @veronicasanders @samrull and @toriibelledarling for being my awesome cowriters <3

“Yes. Yes. Yes of course Shannel, yes, I can do that.. No, no it’s fine. Yes I’ll confirm, yes. Okay. Yes, bye.”

Violet hung up, her head spinning. Shannel had just called her, telling her that Nina Garcia wanted to see her for a meeting about the spread she had gotten in Marie Claire. Violet was sure the entire thing had been approved by Bianca, had been told it was approved by Bianca, but after the call she wasn’t sure at all. She knew there was bad blood between Nina and Bianca, but she had no idea how much, because even though she had been Fame’s assistant, and that she was dating one of Bianca’s best friends, Violet had never been one who listened to gossip, the woman actually often turning out completely when she was out with Sutan, and the people he considered his family whenever they started talking.

Violet could have panicked, could have lost her mind and started redoing all of her work, but she wasn’t going to. What she had made was amazing, and she was going to convince Nina that she deserved the spread, because she did.

***

Courtney sat in her makeup chair, trying to calm her breathing. She’d been preparing for this concert for almost two months, and now that the day was finally here, and every one of her nails was bitten down to the quick, all she was trying to do was center herself, and nothing was working. She felt like a bundle of raw nerves. Why on earth had she convinced herself that she could do this? Who the FUCK did she think she was?

She chest felt tight and suddenly it was all too much. She jumped up from her seat, jostling the elbow of the makeup artist, stammering out a shaky, “Sorry, I’m sorry,” and fleeing through the green room, where Bianca sat with her family, Lucien, Latrice, a few of the label guys - all of them counting on her. She raced past them, out the back door of the theatre, into the dim alley, where she shivered in the dusk, tears pricking at her eyes.

Why was she such a disappointment? Why couldn’t she do anything right?

*

Bianca stood up, about to go after her distraught girlfriend, but Annette put an arm on her shoulder and said, “Let me go, love.” Bianca nodded and sat back down, handing Annette Courtney’s coat and sighing.

*

“The weather in this hemisphere is just horrifying,” Annette declared, stepping outside and wrapping Courtney’s slim shoulders in her coat. “I don’t know how you survive these winters.”

“You get used to it,” Courtney sniffled. She leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder.

“Now. You want to tell me what’s going on? I’m fairly certain you’re not pregnant.”

Courtney laughed through her tears. “No. I’m not pregnant.”

“Right, so what’s the problem, love?”

“What if I fuck everything up tonight?”

“Well…” Annette smiled, “It wouldn’t change anything, really. It wouldn’t change who you are.”

“I don’t know who I am,” Courtney admitted, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

Annette tucked her hair behind her ear. “Alright. Well, then, let me remind you.” She took her daughter’s hands and kissed them, then squeezed them tightly while she said, “You, my dear, are the headstrong, confident, independent girl who has never in your life backed down from an adventure. You left home when you were 17 because you found a program here in this city halfway across the world from everything you’ve ever known.”

Courtney shook her head. “You’ve got it all wrong, mum. I wasn’t...I wasn’t setting off on an adventure. I was running away.” Her voice broke. She felt so much shame, but she couldn’t bear lying to her mother any longer.

Annette took Courtney’s face in her hands. “Yes, you ran, but you ran towards something new. And look at this beautiful life you’ve built for yourself.”

Covering her face with her hands, Courtney’s voice shook as she said, “It’s not my life. It’s Bianca’s life, I don’t deserve any of this, it’s all because of her…”

Annette grasped Courtney’s shoulders, practically shaking her. “Oh really? Bianca wrote the music on your album? Did she? And sang the vocals? Bianca is getting up there to perform tonight? She’s giving your interviews?”

“No, but she…”

“Darling, listen, I’m not discounting everything that Bianca has done for you. Okay? But with or without her, this is what you were meant to do. And if you think that you don’t deserve it, or that you don’t deserve her, well then maybe she’s not the right person for you. Because you should be bursting with pride right now. Not because of all this, which is amazing, but it’s material. Because of who you /are/. Because you care about right and wrong. Because you are honest, and generous. Because I knew that when you left home, everywhere you went, you would leave things better than you found them.”

Courtney sighed. “You give me too much credit, mum.”

“Well, that’s what mothers do. It doesn’t make me wrong.”

Courtney closed her eyes. She did think that her mother was wrong, thought that she was seeing some rosy version of her that probably didn’t exist. A girl that Courtney wished she could be, but never felt that she’d ever truly been. Maybe if she just worked harder...

Gil poked his head out of the door. “What’s taking so fucking long out here? Annette, this is the longest damn pep talk in history. Courtney, there’s a whole theatre full of people waiting for you to shake your ass and sing some songs. Suck it up and come back inside before you freeze to death.”

“Well, that’s putting it bluntly,” Courtney said brightly, laughing and wiping her eyes. She squeezed Annette’s hand and followed her dad inside. “Fuck, Yara is gonna kill me, I think I cried off all my mascara.”

“I’m sure she can handle it,” Annette replied, squeezing her hand back.

***

As she waited for the lights to come up, Courtney gave herself a final, frantic pep talk. /Own the stage. Be a star. Be someone who deserves this. Be anyone but who you are inside./

And then the music began, and the stage lights hit her, burning her eyes, and adrenaline surged through her veins, and suddenly it all clicked, and everything she’d been working for made sense. And as she sang her heart out, lifted high in the air by two backup dancers, she realized that she was suddenly more herself than ever before. She was Courtney Motherfucking Act. And she was killing it.

***

Max could smell lemon, Ruby somehow always smelling like lemons, her hair in his nose, their legs intertwined. They were on the couch, Ruby snoring slightly since she had gotten home from work, a rerun of That 70s Show on the TV on low.

Max’s arm was asleep, but he couldn’t get himself to move, not when Ruby was there in his arms, soft, sweet, and perfect. He had talked to Katya, the teacher coming up in his friend as she had shown him horrifying diagrams on the internet, telling him with extreme enthusiasm of the inner workings of the female reproductive system.

Max had felt sick through the entire thing, he had considered maybe trying sex, for Ruby’s sake, not because he felt pressured, but because he could maybe consider possible trying it with Ruby. Max had been psyching himself up all day, his back slick with sweat when Ruby opened the door, Max telling himself that he could and would do it, but Ruby had just smiled at him when he had offered to ‘stick it to her good’ like Katya had suggested, and shook her head before pulling him to the couch.

Max wasn’t sure why Ruby liked him, or why he liked her so much, but he was so glad they both did.

***

Adore cheered, shoving her sister hard from behind. “Stand UP, you bitch, she was singing that song for you!”

Courtney had just finished a soulful ballad, and Adore was continuing her annoying habit of demanding standing ovations for every single number. Bianca turned, flashing her sister a dirty look. “Would you let me enjoy the fucking moment?”

“Enjoy it on your FEET!” Adore yelled over the crowd.

“Alright…” Courtney took a sip from the water bottle on her stool, using the moment to catch her breath. “So, for this next number, I need a little help. I’m gonna have to ask one of my oldest, bestest friends to come up on the stage with me for this one…” She looked out into the audience, squinting dramatically, eyes landing on Adore. “Ms. Delano, if you please…?”

“Who, me?” Adore replied, looking around. Alaska laughed.

“Can you please just get your ass onstage?”

“Yeah, okay.” Adore scrambled up the steps. She looked down. “I just...I don’t think this outfit is very…” she ripped open her baggy flannel shirt to reveal micro cutoffs and a halter top, earning a bunch of whoops and catcalls. She milked the moment, batting her eyelashes.

Courtney looked back at the audience, rolling her eyes. “You’ll have to use your imagination here, pretend Adore is wearing something slutty for this character.”

“Type casting.” Adore winked.

“Are you ready to fuckin’ sing or what?” Courtney asked, handing Adore a microphone.

“I’m ready! Let’s go!”

Courtney pointed to the band to cue them and the opening bars of Rent’s “Take Me or Leave Me” began to play.

“Every single day, I walk down the street,” Adore began. “I hear people say ‘Baaaby,’ so sweet… “Ever since puberty, everybody stared at me. “Boys, girls, I can’t help it, baby…”

Courtney tried to hide her grin, since her character was supposed to be glowering the whole time, but it was nearly impossible, watching her friend shine beside her. She managed to (mostly) keep it together, though, at least as far as the audience could tell.

As they hit the final notes, harmonizing perfectly, they managed to sing directly into each other’s faces without breaking down giggling like they’d done in every single rehearsal. “Take me baby...or leave me!”

They held a beat before shout-singing the last lines, “Guess I’m leaving! I’m gone!” and flouncing offstage in opposite directions.

In the wings, they turned around and Courtney caught Adore’s eyes. She was jumping up and down and clapping her hands, blowing kisses. Courtney reached out her hand as re-entered to bow. Adore put her arm around Courtney’s shoulders.

“You know,” Courtney said, “I never really understood why people thought Maureen was the hot one. Joanne is clearly the catch in that relationship.”

“The voluptous, Ivy-league educated woman of color with a full-time job? Yeah, I wonder what you like about her.” Adore rolled her eyes.

“Point taken. But like Maureen, she’s seriously such a twat, right? ‘Oh, I’m an artist, I refuse to pay rent...’”

Adore shook her head at Courtney sympathetically. “Awww...boo…so much self-loathing...”

“Shut up! That describes you just as much as me! More, even!” She crossed her arms.

Adore laughed and kissed Courtney on the cheek, branding her with a bright red lipstick mark. “Yes, buttercup.”

“I hate you. Go back to your seat before this turns into Freudian analysis.”

“Guess I’m leaving…” Adore said. “I’m gone!”

Courtney laughed as Adore skipped down the steps. “Good one.” She turned and walked back to her mark for the next number, turning back to the audience dramatically when the lighting changed. “Oh, baby baby…”

Adore jumped to her feet again, cheering loudly, as the giant video screens began playing Courtney’s “Baby One More Time” video. She nudged Bianca. “Look, B, it’s your favorite video! Stand up!!”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “You’re exhausting,” she replied to Adore, eyes still glued to Courtney, who she could swear just caught her eye and winked. Damn, she was hot up there. Suddenly, Bianca didn’t mind how much her feet hurt anymore.

***

After the concert, there was a small gathering at a local club and Courtney really expected to feel nothing but relief. But to her surprise, despite being exhausted, she missed the stage, and the lights, and the feeling she’d gotten when she was up there. She even managed a lengthy conversation with two LiveNation promoters to talk about adding dates to her tour. Just as she was running out of steam, and losing a patience for both of them talking directly to her chest the whole time, she was rescued by Jinkx, who put an arm around her and deftly guided her away, directing her attention to a conversation across the bar.

“So, see that dude Latrice is talking to? That’s my theatrical agent, David Greenberg. Right about now, he’s telling her that they’re doing another Cabaret revival and he thinks you killed ‘Maybe This Time’ and he wants to get you a meeting with the producers and are you interested in Broadway.”

“Are you SERIOUS?!” Courtney exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Yup.”

Courtney turned and threw her arms around Jinkx’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried.

Jinkx laughed. “You sang the song, honey.”

“Hey, bitch, get your hands off my woman!” Adore called, walking over with her arm draped over Alaska, clearly three sheets to the wind.

Jinkx rolled her eyes. “Which one of us are you talking to?” She pulled Adore’s hair gently.

Alaska laughed. “Good question!”

“You guys are all so mean to me, all the time…” Adore slurred, pouting.

“Oh yeah?” Jinkx asked, wrapping her in a hug and kissing her temples. “Like this?

Adore smiled sleepily at Courtney over Jinkx’s shoulder. “Yeah, so mean…”

Courtney laughed. “Yes, you really look like you’re suffering there. We should host a telethon.”

“A tragic life,” Alaska agreed, giggling.

***

“Ahem.”

Bianca turned from the bar to see Annette standing at her shoulder. She smiled. “Hi, Annette! Great show, huh? Your daughter is amazing.”

“Yes, she’s…” Annette smiled. “It was quite special for us to be here. I’m thrilled that we were part of this. She’s really something.”

Bianca nodded, sipping her wine. “She’s worked her ass off, so seeing it pay off like this...it’s incredible. I’m so proud of her.”

Annette sipped her own drink thoughtfully. “She may need to hear you say that...which isn’t to say that you don’t. She just...seems a little fragile right now.”

“Oh?” Bianca tried to keep her voice light, but her heart began to pound a little.

“I’m not sure why, or if it’s even my place to say anything. Maybe it’s all the pressure of this album, and the expectations. I’ve certainly never done anything like this, so I can’t really imagine, and she’s new to this world, so perhaps it will pass once she sees that she can sustain a career. Or maybe it’s a side effect of being an artist. I don’t really know. But it did seem that her confidence was shaken tonight, before the show.”

“Did I...do you think I’m adding to that pressure? Or--”

“Oh, heavens no, love! I didn’t mean that. I just...be patient with her. I can tell she’s trying to figure everything out, and it may take her awhile.”

“Okay…” Bianca felt slightly rattled. What was Courtney trying to figure out? Was their relationship something that she was uncertain about? She wanted to ask more questions, but didn’t want to ask Annette to betray her daughter’s confidence. So she finished by merely saying, “Thank you.”

“No, Bianca, thank you. For your kindness, and your generosity. We’ve had a lovely time.” Annette pulled her in for a big, warm hug, the kind that is distinctly maternal, and some of her anxiety dissipated, just a little.

***

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, V-LISTERS! Welcome to the holiest holiday of the year!

Obviously Li’l Courtney Act’s record label knows they are onto something with those nude pictures coming out, because they suddenly dropped her next music video, for Kaleidoscope, which is one of our favorite songs on the album. The video is about as millennial as it could get, all gender-swapping, sexuality-blurring, 90’s throwback fashion with a big rave type party situation at the end. I mean we didn’t really get it but she looks happy.

However, Li’l Miss Act explains it herself in this interview in today’s issue of The Advocate, which we’re just gonna post here verbatim because it’s just, so /very./ I mean it’s sort of equal parts insufferable and mildly endearing. WE ARE WATCHING YOU COURTNEY!

Kisses, V

THE ADVOCATE: So tell us about what inspired you when writing this song, and conceiving this video. Is all feels very personal.

COURTNEY ACT: It is! Very much! I think the lines that blur between gender and sexuality are really interesting. I always identified as straight, up until the beginning of this year, really, until I fell in love with a woman and it was like...suddenly I was seeing colors for the first time.

TA: Yeah, we heard B’s good in bed.

CA: That’s not what I meant! I mean I guess that too. (laughter) But, I also realized that any time I was really attracted to a guy, I told myself it was because of their strapping masculinity. Which is a thing we’re programmed to think is desirable, especially in places like where I grew up that have very provincial ideas about gender. But then, when I really broke it down, I realized that I liked these men, not because of their masculinity, but in spite of it. You know, like the football player with the long, beautiful eyelashes. Or this one guy I dated where i was just like, obsessed with his butt. And when I think about him now, like, that was a very womanly butt.

TA: A womanly butt?

CA: Yeah! Like round, and soft, and, you know?...Okay, and my brother--

TA: That was a /terrible/ transition!

CA: I know, I’m sorry. But my brother is a drag queen, and like, he dresses up in these beautiful clothes and becomes, not female but like this idea, this fantasy of what a female is supposed to be, and it’s so intriguing and beautiful, but in a whole new way, and I fell in love with drag watching him, because--

TA: This sounds a little...Flowers in the Attic.

CA: That’s what B says! I don't know that book. We don’t read incest porn where I come from.

TA: Maybe you should, it sounds like you’d like it.

CA: (Laughter) Maybe it would hit too close to home.

TA: This is taking an unusual turn…

CA: Sorry. But back to the video, I wanted to play with gender because I’m thinking about it a lot, because of my own views and how they’re changing. I always thought I had to be a certain way, as a female, and that men had to be a certain way, but I think all of that is kind of being turned on it’s head. And now every day I wonder, am I wearing this because I want to, or because society is telling me I should? Maybe I want to wear a really “girly” dress in one moment, and then more androgynous or traditionally masculine clothing the next day, and that’s okay. And it’s not just clothes, but that’s the most obvious expression, the first thing we see. I worked in fashion for awhile and I’m surrounded by it all the time because of Bianca and it’s just like...there’s so much EXPECTATION and I kind of have a natural need to question things, but also this desire to be easy-going, so that’s always an internal struggle.

TA: So basically you’re human.

CA: Is that what that is? What a terrible affliction. Is there a cure?

TA: None that doctors recommend.

CA: (Laughs) Right. So anyway, as you can tell, I’m in my head a lot.

TA: You don’t say!

CA: (giggles)

TA: We hear your next video is much lighter.

CA: Oh, yeah, Ecstasy. It’s pure fluff. Just a fun dance song. Dedicated to my bestie.

TA: Adore?

CA: Yeah.

TA: Wait just a second. You wrote a song called “Ecstasy” about your girlfriend’s sister?

CA: Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad. It’s not ABOUT Adore, exactly. It’s about us TOGETHER.

TA: THAT SOUNDS WORSE!

CA: No! Like, it’s about how we go out dancing together, and the freedom that brings.

TA: I’m gonna call you out here. The lyrics are “I kiss your lips, leave it on your tongue--”

CA: I’m not kissing Adore! We’re kissing other people! Oh god, this is a losing battle, isn’t it…? (cracking up)

TA: I think this is between you and Bianca. I mean, you did kiss Adore in your video.

CA: Yeah, well, Bianca knows that was the only time. And she was there. And besides, Bianca doesn’t get jealous. Because hello? She’s Bianca del Rio.

TA: Ha!

CA: It’s true! She’s been with like, supermodels and Oscar winners. She’s not exactly in a position to feel threatened.

TA: So the rumors are true?

CA: You heard the part about seeing colors for the first time, right? (wink)

TA: And on that note…

***

“Oh god, I’m so full.”

“Maybe we should have stopped three Kit Kats ago..”

“No way.” Trixie shook his head and reached out, his free hand rummaging through the giant bowl of candy on the table. Trixie was laying on the couch, his head in Katya’s lap, his pants unbuttoned as his stomach was beyond bloated. He and Katya had decided to spend Halloween in, Ivan not old enough to go out trick and treating, so it seemed natural for them to not go out, to watch Halloween films and to give candy to the children who came to their door.

Ivan had had a great night, the little guy loving the fact that both of his parents were home at the same time, the fruit he was allowed to gorge on and that he was dressed up as an avocado, through Katya was pretty sure her son didn’t have a concept of the soft felt costume Trixie had sewn for him. There was one minor flaw in their plan though. Katya and Trixie had both forgotten that there were no kids in the building, and so they had ended up with enough candy to feed a whole army.

“Your stomach is so tight…” Katya smiled, her hand gently kneading Trixie’s tummy, her nails scratching his skin. “My sweet little sugar bum.”

“I think you mean sugar belly.”

Katya laughed, and Trixie joined her, his entire body moving as she leaned down to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much.” Katya gave Trixie another kiss, quickly catching his lip between her teeth, her hand gliding down to his open pants, her fingers sneaking into his underwear and wrapping around his cock.

“Nnh, nooo.” Trixie whined, the man squirming around.

“No?” Katya smiled, another sweet kiss landing on Trixie’s lips.

“I can’t move.” Katya could feel how desperately Trixie tried to pump his hips, his belly holding him down, her hand moving torturously slow.

“Did my big strong man eat too much candy?”

“No..” Trixie shook his head, and Katya sped up her hand, Trixie's mouth falling open.

“That’s what I imagined.” Katya smiled and grabbed a piece of chocolate to force between her husband's lips.

[republicstandard]

Harvard’s Hatred of Asian Meritocracy Reveals the Left’s Racist Underbelly

Come fly with me. I’ve launched a new airline called Diversifly. We’ve got a woke motto: “We put diversity first.” We’re headhunting Black and Hispanic pilots and aeronautical engineers to meet our diversity targets. We’ve too many Asian and White applicants with blue-chip credentials, so if you are from a minority that is underrepresented we’ll give you a job even if you’ve failed every aviation or engineering test. We don’t buy into the myth of meritocracy.

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We’ve crashed a few 737s, but don’t let this minor matter distract you from our bigger goal of reversing centuries of discrimination. We’ve got a special offer: if you crash while flying with us we will emblazon your full name with your chosen gender on our Diversifly Martyrs Memorial. So fly Diversifly and become a real woke social justice warrior.

I got my idea of a non-meritocratic airline from Harvard University’s affirmative action policy. I almost ended up doing my doctorate at Harvard. I had three colleagues who had just returned from Princeton, Harvard and Yale. The Harvard chappie insisted I follow in his footsteps. I filled in the forms. Then, John Stott, England’s pre-eminent 20th century Anglican author and preacher, nudged me in the direction of Cambridge (England not Massachusetts) and I gladly consented.

I’m glad I didn’t go to Harvard. I don’t like separate drinking fountains for Blacks. Harvard hasn’t yet installed these segregated dispensers, but last year it hosted a graduation ceremony exclusively for Black students. “I have a dream that my four little children will one day go to a university where they will not be judged by the content of their character or the grade on their SAT scorecard, but by the colour of their skin,” Martin Luther King might have thundered in his speech if he were the keynote speaker at this historic graduation ceremony.

“I have a dream that one day we will have safe spaces, transgender bathrooms, gender fluidity, preferred pronouns, micro-aggression lists, fewer hetero-White males and Asian-Americans on campus and then all God’s LGBTIQ+ children will be able to sing, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’” Dr King would declaim to rapturous applause. Yeah!

The leftwing goons running Harvard would love this dream, wouldn’t they? They’ve festooned Harvard’s portals with “Whites and Asians Not Welcome” signs. Ever since Lefties made reverse discrimination fashionable in academia, they’ve been performing contortionist tricks to ‘manage diversity’ by increasing the intake of African Americans and Hispanics and ethnically cleansing campuses overpopulated with Asians and Whites.

A 2009 Princeton study showed Asians had to score 140 points higher on their SATs than Whites, 270 points higher than Hispanics and 450 points higher than Blacks to have the same chance of admission to leading universities. At Harvard, Asians not only have to score hundreds of points higher on their SATs to get in, but admissions officers consistently score Asian applicants lower on personal traits like “positive personality,” “likability,” “kindness,” and “humour”.

If admissions were based strictly on academic performance, Asians would make up more than 51 percent of the average admitted class, according to Students for Fair Admissions (SFFA). A 2013 Harvard report found Asian applicants performed significantly better on test scores, academics, and overall scores. Of 10 total characteristics, White students performed significantly better in only one—rankings of personal qualities.

Following a 2014 lawsuit accusing Harvard of capping the number of Asian students, this week SFFA is suing Harvard in the federal district court in Boston in what has been called the “Harvard affirmative-action case”. The court will decide if Harvard has gone beyond what the Supreme Court has said are permissible ways to consider race in admissions—and, specifically, if it has shown bias against Asian American applicants.

We know the Left detests Whites (even though the Left is a juggernaut comprised of mostly guilt-ridden Whites) but why do progressives hate Asians? The answer lies in inequality of outcomes, which is bound to happen in any meritocracy.

In a race-blind merit-based admissions system like New York City’s Stuyvesant High School, the admission outcome is 74 percent Asian, 18 percent White, 3 percent Hispanic, 1 percent Black, and 4 percent multiracial. In California, which eliminated race-based affirmative action in 1996, 42 percent Asians are admitted to University of California at Berkeley.

“INEQUALITY!” shrieks the Left, prophesying the doom and death of diversity like Shakespeare’s three witches in Macbeth.

Tell that to Vijay Chokal-Ingam who pretended to be Black to get into med school. Chokal-Ingam, an Asian American, shaved his head, trimmed his long Indian eyelashes, and interchanged his middle name with his first name. He became Jojo, the African American, and was admitted to St. Louis University School of Medicine. Jojo dropped out of med school but was bright enough to get into UCLA Anderson, a business school that doesn’t practice affirmative action.

Asians are toppling the Left’s equality applecart, but despite Jojo’s Black skin having nearly the same degree of melanin as an African American, why would Leftist affirmative action policies so cruelly exclude him? Is it possible that progressive academics are terrified that the controversial “Bell Curve” theory proposed by Richard Herrnstein and Charles Murray is true and because Asian Americans have a higher mean IQ than White Americans, who in turn outscore Black Americans, the equality utopia of the Left will never be realised even in their bastion of academe?

Or is it because “Asian privilege” is becoming the new “White privilege” in America? A recent Pew study describes Asian Americans as “the highest-income, best-educated and fastest-growing racial group in the United States”. Needless to say, there are differences within Asian Americas.

The Indian population’s average annual earnings of $75,000 exceed the U.S. average of $46,000, largely due to high-paying science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM) careers. Forty percent of Indians age 25 or over have degrees higher than a bachelor’s, compared with 11 percent for the U.S. population age 25 or over.

Asian Americans exceed all other U.S. adults also in median annual household income ($66,000 vs. $49,800) and median household wealth ($83,500 vs. $68,529). They are more satisfied than the general public with their lives overall (82% vs. 75%), their personal finances (51% vs. 35%) and the general direction of the country (43% vs. 21%).

They are socially conservative and stand out for their strong emphasis on family. More than half (54%) say that having a successful marriage is one of the most important things in life; just 34% of all American adults agree. They are more likely than all American adults to be married (59% vs. 51%); their newborns are less likely than all U.S. newborns to have an unmarried mother (16% vs. 41%); and their children are more likely than all U.S. children to be raised in a household with two married parents (80% vs. 63%).

Asian Americans hold strongly to a work ethic and believe in the rewards of hard work. Nearly seven-in-ten (69%) say people can get ahead if they are willing to work hard, compared to 58% of the American public. So they don’t need to go begging to the Welfare State for handouts.

And they love America! Only 12% say that if they had to do it all over again, they would remain in their country of origin. They prefer the U.S. to their country of origin in such realms as providing economic opportunity, political and religious freedoms, and good conditions for raising children by lopsided margins.

The success of the Asian experiment completely debunks the Marxist hypothesis of structural oppression. The Left cannot get Asians to gripe about slavery or colonialism or racism because the Asians are too busy building a new American dream. “This country doesn’t owe us anything,” says Uma, mother of stand-up comic Hari Kondabolu, in a National Geographic interview.

It’s all about power, for the Left. Their task is to create victim groups and classify them in a hierarchy of intersectionality. The more oppressed a group, the better for the Left, because it has a cause to fight for—a raison d’être in an otherwise pointless world. Asians don’t give the left much of a reason for existence! They don’t see themselves as victims, but as victors. If you are successful, you don’t need the Left! Rather, the Left is an impediment to even greater success.

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This is both incomprehensible and intolerable to progressives because the Left loves to carry the White Man’s Burden and the White Man’s Guilt and the Asian looks askance and patronisingly pats the leftie saying, “Hey pal! Chill out and stop the self-flagellation. We’re doing great without your help, but thank you anyway!”

At heart the Left is deeply racist. For decades, the Democrats were the party of slavery, segregation, lynching, Jim Crow, forced sterilisation, and the KKK. By admitting Blacks and Hispanics with rock-bottom grades to top universities and by segregating them in separate dorms, progressives can continue the racial caste system. So every time you meet a Black with a PhD from Harvard or Stanford you won’t think Clarence Thomas or Ben Carson or Thomas Sowell. What you’ll think is: “Poor bugger! Got in on the Black quota! Three cheers for the bigotry of low expectations!”

Meanwhile, Vijay Chokal-Ingam may have dropped a bomb on the progressive playground. If a man can self-identify as a woman and join a women’s sports team or sleep in women’s dorms or shower in women’s bathrooms, why can’t an Asian American self-identify as an African American and get into Harvard? As a leftwing variant of Professor Higgins would sing: “Why can’t an Asian American be more like an African American?”

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