#wall st journal

[blackswaneuroparedux]

With the past no longer shedding light on the future, the mind advances in darkness.

- Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America

Digging into the poll itself...

48% say gender is essential to identity, outpacing religion at 34%

63% say companies should not take public stands on social and political issues.

58% say tolerance for others is very important (compared to 80% a mere four years ago).

Not good folks. Not good at all.

Source: Wall Street Journal poll

[storkmuffin]

wall st journal just figured this out today

[nando161mando]

Then it’s real…

[banji-effect]

WASHINGTON—Donald Trump was indicted Tuesday in an unprecedented criminal case accusing the former president of trying to subvert the will of American voters through his attempts to cling to power after he lost the 2020 election. The indictment by a federal grand jury in Washington charges Trump with four crimes, including conspiring to defraud the U.S., obstructing an official proceeding, and conspiring against the rights of voters for his actions that culminated in the Jan. 6, 2021, attack by his supporters on the U.S. Capitol. The indictment charges Trump alone, but describes six co-conspirators working with him, including people identifiable as Rudy Giuliani and several other lawyers who worked with him to contest the 2020 election results. Many of the details referenced in the case have been previously revealed, including from a House panel that investigated the attack. But the 45-page document paints a detailed portrait of Trump’s alleged efforts to press claims that the election had been marred by fraud, even though he had been told repeatedly they had no merit, and how he leaned on officials in battleground states he had lost including Arizona, Georgia and Michigan to support his efforts. After those initial efforts failed, the indictment alleges, Trump pushed his own Justice Department to falsely claim election fraud, and pressed Vice President Mike Pence to overturn the results, telling Pence at one point: “You’re too honest.” He then called his supporters to Washington and urged them to “fight like hell” just before they marched to the Capitol on Jan. 6. Brought by special counsel Jack Smith, the indictment opens a second federal criminal case against Trump under the administration led by President Biden, who beat him in the 2020 race for the White House and is now his potential opponent next year, with Trump the GOP front-runner for 2024. Trump is scheduled to appear in federal court in Washington on Thursday.

In a brief appearance where he took no questions, Smith called the Capitol attack “an unprecedented assault on the seat of American democracy. As described in the indictment, it was fueled by lies.”

Despite losing, Trump spread lies that there had been fraud in the election, and that he had actually won, the indictment alleges. “Each of these conspiracies…targeted a bedrock function of the United States federal government: the nation’s process of collecting, counting, and certifying the results of the presidential election,” prosecutors assert in the indictment.

In a social media post, Trump said the case was a “pathetic attempt” by the Justice Department to “interfere with the 2024 Presidential Election.”

Within minutes, the Trump campaign sent a fundraising email, portraying him as a victim of political persecution. “It’s not just my freedom on the line, but yours as well—and I will NEVER let them take it from you,” it read.

In the indictment, prosecutors acknowledged that Trump had a right to challenge the election results and even falsely claim fraud. But they said what he did went far beyond such rights and involved discounting legitimate votes.

The indictment adds to the cloud of legal challenges. Smith’s office also is prosecuting Trump on separate charges that he improperly retained classified government documents at his Mar-a-Lago resort and obstructed the government’s efforts to retrieve them.

The district attorney in Fulton County, Ga., also has been investigating Trump for election interference. He awaits trial on 34 felony charges brought by local prosecutors in New York in a business-records case stemming from a hush-money payment made to a porn star in the final stretch of the 2016 election.

Trump has denied wrongdoing in the federal, New York and Georgia matters, and accused prosecutors of pursuing him for political reasons.

Prosecutors have charged more than 1,000 people in connection with the riot, for crimes ranging from trespassing to assault and obstructing the Congressional proceeding, almost all of whom were at the Capitol during the violence. More than 500 have pleaded guilty, and several who were convicted of playing a leading role in the violence have been sentenced to years in prison. Trump is among the first who didn’t directly participate in the riot to face federal charges in connection with the attack.

The Jan. 6 Capitol attack led to Trump’s unpredecented second impeachment, with the Democratic House alleging that Trump, who by then was out of office, incited an insurrection. Trump was acquitted in the Senate.

The probe has advanced for months on several tracks, with prosecutors examining efforts that included assembling fake slates of electors to send to Congress; pressuring former Vice President Mike Pence to thwart the congressional certification of Biden’s win; pressing state officials to undo their results; fundraising with false claims of election fraud; and rallying his supporters to march to the Capitol.

Federal grand jurors in Washington have heard from witnesses including election officials from several states, White House lawyers and a list of Trump’s closest aides. Pence, Trump’s former chief of staff Mark Meadows and other senior officials in Trump’s closest circles also testified after Trump’s lawyers unsuccessfully tried to block their appearances, citing executive privilege. Prosecutors interviewed Trump’s former personal lawyer Rudy Giuliani for eight hours.

The co-conspirators are unnamed, though the descriptions in the document indicate that they are Giuliani, Trump lawyers John Eastman, Sidney Powell and Kenneth Chesebro and former Justice Department official Jeffrey Clark. A sixth is described as a political consultant, whose identity is unclear.

The six, while unindicted, could potentially face charges as Smith’s investigation is ongoing.

“Every fact Mayor Rudy Giuliani possesses about this case establishes the good faith basis President Donald Trump had for the actions he took during the two-month period charged in the indictment,” his political adviser, Ted Goodman, said.

Clark and lawyers for Eastman and Chesebro didn’t immediately return calls seeking comment. A lawyer for Powell declined to comment.

In Smith’s separate probe of Trump’s handling of government documents, prosecutors recently added three new counts, alleging Trump and his aides sought to have surveillance footage from the club deleted so that it couldn’t be turned over to a grand jury. A federal judge has scheduled the trial in that case to begin on May 20, 2024.

The original June indictment in the documents case charged Trump with 37 counts on seven different charges, including willful retention of national-defense information, withholding a record, false statements and conspiracy to obstruct.

Despite his compounding legal problems, Trump has remained the clear front-runner for the GOP nomination as he has portrayed himself as the victim of a broad effort to keep him out of office. He has seen fundraising spikes surrounding his two previous indictments, and most of his Republican rivals for the nomination have joined in criticizing his prosecution.

Attorney General Merrick Garland has denied that the Justice Department’s investigations are politically motivated—he wasn’t in Washington on Tuesday but was roughly 175 miles away in Philadelphia, attending an anticrime event. He appointed Smith, whom he called a “veteran career prosecutor,” in November 2022 as special counsel to insulate the probe and give it a degree of independence from the agency’s political appointees.

[trekkie-lkm-archive]

Info: OK, I know girl!kirk/spock genderbend has already been requested…

But Holy God, someone give me girl!Kirk/ANYONE. I MEAN IT. MCCOY, CHEKOV, SULU, SCOTTY, SPOCK PRIME, UHURA, ORION!GIRL--

I blame whoever asked for girl!kirk/spock genderbend. And by blame, I mean thank.

COME ON GUYS. YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT TOO

(thread)

Fill: 1/2

Part One, Part Two

Author: Ink_n_imp

Archive Link: Part One, Part Two

Fill: 2/2

Part One, Part Two

Author: Vivid_Butterfly

Archive Link: Part One, Part Two

[reasonsforhope]

"A team of researchers at Washington University in St. Louis has developed a real-time air monitor that can detect any of the SARS-CoV-2 virus variants that are present in a room in about 5 minutes.

The proof-of-concept device was created by researchers from the McKelvey School of Engineering and the School of Medicine at Washington University...

The results are contained in a July 10 publication in Nature Communications that provides details about how the technology works.

The device holds promise as a breakthrough that - when commercially available - could be used in hospitals and health care facilities, schools, congregate living quarters, and other public places to help detect not only the SARS-CoV-2 virus, but other respiratory virus aerosol such as influenza and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) as well.

“There is nothing at the moment that tells us how safe a room is,” Cirrito said, in the university’s news release. “If you are in a room with 100 people, you don’t want to find out five days later whether you could be sick or not. The idea with this device is that you can know essentially in real time, or every 5 minutes, if there is a live virus in the air.”

How It Works

The team combined expertise in biosensing with knowhow in designing instruments that measure the toxicity of air. The resulting device is an air sampler that operates based on what’s called “wet cyclone technology.” Air is sucked into the sampler at very high speeds and is then mixed centrifugally with a fluid containing a nanobody that recognizes the spike protein from the SARS-CoV-2 virus. That fluid, which lines the walls of the sampler, creates a surface vortex that traps the virus aerosols. The wet cyclone sampler has a pump that collects the fluid and sends it to the biosensor for detection of the virus using electrochemistry.

The success of the instrument is linked to the extremely high velocity it generates - the monitor has a flow rate of about 1,000 liters per minute - allowing it to sample a much larger volume of air over a 5-minute collection period than what is possible with currently available commercial samplers. It’s also compact - about one foot wide and 10 inches tall - and lights up when a virus is detected, alerting users to increase airflow or circulation in the room.

Testing the Monitor

To test the monitor, the team placed it in the apartments of two Covid-positive patients. The real-time air samples from the bedrooms were then compared with air samples collected from a virus-free control room. The device detected the RNA of the virus in the air samples from the bedrooms but did not detect any in the control air samples.

In laboratory experiments that aerosolized SARS-CoV-2 into a room-sized chamber, the wet cyclone and biosensor were able to detect varying levels of airborne virus concentrations after only a few minutes of sampling, according to the study.

“We are starting with SARS-CoV-2, but there are plans to also measure influenza, RSV, rhinovirus and other top pathogens that routinely infect people,” Cirrito said. “In a hospital setting, the monitor could be used to measure for staph or strep, which cause all kinds of complications for patients. This could really have a major impact on people’s health.”

The Washington University team is now working to commercialize the air quality monitor."

-via Forbes, July 11, 2023

-

Holy shit. I know it's still early in the technology and more testing will inevitably be needed but holy shit.

Literally, if it bears out, this could revolutionize medicine. And maybe let immunocompromised people fucking go places again

Also, for those who don't know, Nature Communications is a very prestigious scientific journal that focuses on Pretty Big Deal research. Their review process is incredibly rigorous. This is an absolutely HUGE credibility boost to this research and prototype

[liberalsarecool]

The Wall St Journal is garbage, but even these scumbags know Trump is poison and the Republican Party is filled with anti-intellectuals.

[un-ionizetheradlab]

Russia just freed SIXTEEN political prisoners in a prisoner swap with the West!

Among the released political prisoners are:

Oleg Orlov, a longtime dissident and the co-chair of Memorial, an organization created in 1989 to chronicle the USSR's human rights abuses and educate Russians about the history of political repression;

Sasha Skochilenko, an LGBTQ artist who was imprisoned in April 2022 for replacing price tags at grocery stores with data about Russian destruction in Ukraine, deemed treasonous under Russia's "fake news" law;

Vladimir Kara-Murza, a political dissident who was fundamental in bringing about the Magnitsky Act to sanction Russian human rights abusers, and who was poisoned twice by the KGB in attempted assassinations before being sentenced to 25 years in prison for "treason";

Evan Gershkovich, a young American journalist who was arrested in Russia while reporting for the Wall Streeet Journal in March 2023 and sentenced to 16 years in prison for "espionage";

Paul Whelan, American former Marine who was arrested in 2018 and sentenced to 16 years of hard labor for "espionage";

Alsu Kurmasheva, a Russian-American journalist with Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty who was sentenced to 6.5 years in prison for spreading "fake news" about the war in Ukraine;

Andrei Pivovarov, an opposition activist who headed the pro-democracy organization Open Russia before being imprisoned in a Siberian penal colony infamous for its torture of prisoners;

Ilya Yashin, a young opposition politician who was sentenced to 8.5 years in prison for publishing YouTube videos about the war in Ukraine; when Russian authorities "encouraged" him to leave the country, he chose instead to stay;

Lilia Chanysheva, opposition activist and regional coordinator of Navalny HQ; in her final speech before the Russian court, she tried in vain to appeal to the judge's sense of empathy: "If you put me in jail for 12 years, I will be too old to bear a child. Give me a chance to be a mother!";

Kevin Lik, a dual German-Russian citizen who was arrested as a minor for "photographing military sites" shortly before the 2022 invasion of Ukraine; he was the youngest person ever to be convicted of treason in Russia;

Rico Krieger, a German man sentenced to death in Belarus for supposedly planting explosives on a railroad track to help the Ukrainian army;

Dieter Voronin, a dual German-Russian citizen and political scientist who was arrested in 2021 in connection to a treason case involving Russian journalist Ivan Safronov;

Patrick Schobel, a German man arrested in February 2024 at the Pulkovo International Airport in St Petersburg when customs officers found cannabis gummies in his luggage, in a scenario very similar to that of Brittney Griner;

German Moyzhes, a dual German-Russian citizen and lawyer who was charged with treason for helping Russians obtain European residency permits;

Vadim Ostanin, opposition activist and Navalny associate arrested in 2021 for his work with Navalny's Anti-Corruption Foundation;

Ksenia Fadeyeva, dissident and Navalny associate sentenced to 9 years in prison.

[vintagelasvegas]

Boulder Club in 1945 marked the beginning of the big neon spectaculars in Las Vegas.

It featured a scene in action on the front of the marquee, the movement of water flowing at Boulder Dam. The effect was created with a series of masks rotating on drums between the light and the hand-painted scene on translucent plastic. Young Electric Sign Co. (YESCO) created the sign, and opened their first shop in Las Vegas to oversee its full-time maintenance.

Prosper J. Goumond and partners opened Boulder Club 7/27/29 in their new 2-story building at 118 Fremont St. They had one of the first neon signs in Las Vegas. In the early 30s they upgraded their sign, the new one being the first major sign by YESCO in Las Vegas. Boulder Club later expanded into 120 Fremont St, doubling their frontage to 50-feet.

Thomas Young Sr., founder of YESCO, came to Las Vegas in 1945 to sell the new sign to the Boulder Club. His son Thomas Young Jr. says, "Dad sketched out the sign on butcher paper on a wall at El Cortez Hotel."

The marquee with the slogan “Enjoy the Old West” covered the 50 feet of 118-120 Fremont and extended 12 feet over the sidewalk. The top of the sign was 42 feet from the bottom to top, or as big as the building itself. The sign is constructed with an internal steel structure, welded, without the use of bolts, and supported by cantilever. Construction began in July and was completed in Fall.

Boulder Club announces completion of Nevada's Most Spectacular Giant Fluron-Neon Sign and New York Type Markee. See Boulder Dam in Action. Designed, Built, Originated: Young Electric Sign Co., plants at Salt Lake City and Las Vegas. - Review Journal, 10/20/45.

Sources: 2-Story Club to Be Built Soon. Las Vegas Age, 5/23/29 p1; New Sign for Boulder Club. Review-Journal, 7/13/45 p13; Boulder Club Sign A Dilly. Review-Journal, 7/17/45 p9; Thomas Young Jr. oral history interview (OH-03255), UNLV Special Collections & Archives.

16mm color film, circa '47/48: Prelinger Archives, Jamison Collection.

Below: (1) Young Electric Sign Co. (YESCO) installs the second Boulder Club sign, July 1945. Young Electric Sign Company (YESCO) Corporate Records (MS-00403), UNLV Special Collections. (2) Postcard, circa early 50s. The section reading, "Boulder Club: Bets from a Dime Up," was added circa '52, and removed in '55.

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

New York City: Flood Election Day for Palestine - No Votes for Genocide

Tuesday, November 5 - 7:00 p.m.

Newscorp (Fox News, Wall Street Journal, etc.), 1211 Sixth Ave (between W. 47 & W. 48 Sts), Manhattan

Hosted by Within Our Lifetime-United For Palestine

[youandtom2]

Request if you want it: Tom is playing at a golf event and reader is a journalist there. She absolutely can't stand him, because she finds out he is quite arrogant and full of himself. They go after each other throughout the whole day with sarcastic remarks. But somehow (you can fill in the details) Tom seduces her by the end and he gets her on her knees and he totally dominates her, making her choke and gag. And he embarrasses her by making her feel his muscles and beg to suck him off and he boasts about how easily he got her in the palm of his hand. :P

(14/07/22) brain go brrrrrrrrrrr THIS REQUEST!!!!

a/n (28/06/23): This was a request that was sent in and one that I had started last year that I really wanted to finish. Apologies to the anon who sent this in and waited for it whoops. This was supposed to be short but I clearly don't fucking know what short means so here's like 7k or something???

Anyway here's 'A Word for the Youth Diary?' Shitty title I know but I literally can't think of anything else.

MASTERLIST

"The weather is absolutely gorgeous here at St. Andrews' Castle Course, celebrating the first 'Pro Amateur' charity competition where a host of celebrities, socialites or anyone with a keen passion for golf can compete. A number of spectators have gathered around the course, eager to soak up the buzzing atmosphere, the scenic landscape and the presence of Hollywood stars, all in the views of the warm Scottish sun. Now that's something I never expected to say!"

The red light of your recorder dims as you press pause on your commentary. You made the switch to recorder a few years back when journalism became too close to drowning in a number of scribbled, illegible notes written far too quickly. Now it is a simple case of pressing record and pressing pause.

Of course, wherever there is a flock of celebrities congregating in the one area for the week, there will always be flock of paparazzi and journalists close by, each with the same agenda. It usually feels like mission impossible to get a word in with a celebrity or document anything of note or interest when there's a wall of other journalists blocking your way, but today those things won't be a problem. Because you’re not going after who may probably be the most coveted celebrity here. Tom Holland.

You don't quite don't know where it stemmed from; your strong dislike towards Tom Holland. In all honesty, your hatred towards him is very self-inflicted, but there's something about his ego that paints him in a very arrogant light. He knows he's hot shit with the press, he knows everyone fancies the man, he knows that his many talents has sky-rocketed him up the societal ladder and onto the throne of the rich and wealthy. What makes him double as frustrating than he is arrogant is that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's Hollywood's golden boy; ever the humble, handsome, kind, charity-giving actor that has claimed the hearts of many across the world. It's what makes your hatred towards him completely unjustified, so while no one shares the same view as you, there is some things you can do to quietly preach your opinions.

"First to arrive at the course is the notable Tom Holland, waving to the crowd with a smile, loving the attention as ever. Although I'm not sure that his mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire will receive the same compliments!"

The smirk on your lips lasts for the majority of the day as you talk incessantly into your recorder. Your goal isn't necessarily to shit on Tom, only when the opportunity presents itself of course, like when he swung the golf club at an awkward angle, sending the ball straight over the forest and into the sand bunker.

"Oooh, what a poor shot from Tom Holland. He'll be disappointed with that one. Perhaps leaning towards the 'amateur' side of the competition in comparison to some other competitors. Tom Holland yet again teaching us a valuable lesson in life; just because you're a pro at one thing doesn't mean you're a pro at everything else."

The crowd politely applauded and off he went with his caddie. While others followed, you choose to stay rooted while you wait for Mark Wahlberg to walk up to the tee. He's who you've been waiting for all afternoon. Getting a word in with him would set you up for the highlight of your career.

"Mark! Over here! Mr. Wahlberg! A word for the Youth Diary? Mr. Wahlberg!"

As it seems, Mark calmly maneuvers way past the wall of journalists, paying them, and you, no mind and strolls over to the starting point. Damn. You have to get a word with him somehow.

"Mark Wahlberg takes a mighty swing and thrashes the golf ball high into the air, and the crowd watches in astonishment as it sails its way over towards the green, a hair's breadth away from perfection as it rolls upon the hill. A round of applause circles around Mark as he proudly walks on with the confidence of a man who's set on winning this competition."

As the hours tick by, you find yourself without any luck. Those first few minutes of the competition were stuck in a loop, constantly experiencing deja vu of having to witness Tom Holland's unlucky shot followed by being ignored by Mark Wahlberg. You haven't had one decent interaction with anyone yet. Things are getting a little desperate.

You even begin to understand why the majority of journalists are following Tom Holland like a lost flock of sheep; he's very chatty. He stops at every turn to give his narration on his own playing, offers a brief insight to the projects he is currently working on, and if he likes you, even spill some of the secrets of his private life. It's a journalist's dream, one that you haven't even had the taste of yet since Mark Wahlberg is as accessible as the vaults of the Bank of England. Anyone with common sense would advise you to follow the crowd and ignore your bias towards him and just interview Tom Holland if it means you have something worth printing.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Not a chance. He gets enough attention as it is.

"Mr Wahlberg! A word on your new film? Could you tell us about Uncharted! Mark! Over here!"

Not even a glance is spared your way in yet another attempt to get his attention. From your left, a voice emerges. A fellow reporter sidles himself next to you, away from the crowd that follows Tom Holland. You spot the Sky Sports label wrapped around his microphone.

"He doesn't like to speak much to the press. Thinks that he'll say something and they'll twist his words," he sympathies. It's genuine, obvious that he too has been caught up in the same frustration you've been facing all afternoon. At least he has a little more insight as to why you haven't gotten a word from Mark.

"Yeah, I figured. It wouldn't hurt just to say hello and have a small chat. What could the press twist about that? If anything, I think he's damaging his reputation by not saying anything. It's rude, y'know?"

He nods his head in agreement, but the sigh he blows doesn't seem to match. "You have to let it go though. They're not obliged to tell us anything. This is just a day out for them, they're not getting paid so why should they have to say anything about their work? It's just our luck whether they choose to talk to us."

"Ugh, I guess you're right, but I still need something for my article."

"Sky Sports has had lots from Tom. Why don't you try your luck with him? He seems to be a lot chattier than Mark. I don't know much about film journalism, only sports, so I don't know what it is you're looking for. But if you ask him anything, I'm sure he's willing to provide."

You look to him with contempt in your eyes, your lack of smile instantly shuts down his suggestion.

"I appreciate the suggestion but no. He's too easy. Think of how many journalists are here desperate to get a word in about sports, golf, acting, celebrity personal lives, all that show biz. If everyone shared the one source, audiences wouldn't bother reading them all because they all be the same, boring stuff. Think about it. If you, and 30 other journalists had the chance to interview Ronaldo, you would all take it because after all its Ronaldo. The only downside would be that you would then have 30 articles all saying the same thing and audience getting bored after reading 1. Now think about having the chance to interview Messi. It would be hard but total payout if you got it. Plus, you would stand out from the rest and that's what would gain audiences' attention."

Once again, the reporter sighs. "Look, kid. I've been in this job for 20 years and I've learned that sometimes you just have to cut your losses. If your objective is to get something to write about for your article, then you should do it however and whatever way you can, doesn't matter who the source is. If your objective is to get something from Mark Wahlberg specifically? Then you should scrap the whole article and try again. Something is better than nothing."

"I refuse to take anything from Tom Holland."

"Suit yourself. Good luck. Oh, by the way, I think you're still recording. Wouldn't want you to get your chance with Mark only to realise you have no storage left on your recorder."

You mumble a weak thanks and remember to press the pause button on your recorder. The reporter saunters away back towards the crowd, your only indication of knowing where Tom Holland is. You consider it for a second, but determination drives you away, following Mark to the next hole.

~~~~

It's all to play for in the final hole with only two possible candidates capable of winning the trophy. Currently sitting in the lead is the elusive, mysterious Mark Wahlberg, strolling casually along to the final hole with his team behind him. Ah, and of course, next in line is Tom Holland soaking up the attention as he strings along behind Mark Wahlberg like an apprentice would their mentor. It's not clear whether the confidence he walks with is a poorly executed imitation of his acting mentor ahead of him, or whether it is a man deluded with besting him. All will be revealed within the hour.

It's well into the evening of the Pro Amateur competition and the luck that reporter wished you earlier has yet to find you. With the final hole well underway, you're starting to think that it never will. So far, you've gotten a few short, curt answers from other celebrities here but nothing near the sustenance your article needs. If only Mark could stop being so stubborn.

"One at a time please guys, one at a time." Tom's smug, arrogant tone of voice emerges from behind you and not too soon after, tens of other voices asking him questions. As he makes his way nearer, so do the swarm of people and in an attempt to get out of the way, you're stampeded by the press. Bumped, shoved and pushed, you struggle to find your balance and fall precariously on your knees with your equipment tumbling from your bag. In all honesty it didn't hurt, but what an inconvenience picking up all your bits and bobs. Ugh it's all his fault.

Before you do anything irrational and say something you shouldn't, you pack up your stuff and walk away.

The competition concludes with a twist that no one was expecting. With a gust of wind getting the better of Mark Wahlberg, it earned him a double bogey and cost him the trophy, annoyingly snatched up by Tom who achieved victory with a birdie. You seethe at the sight of Tom holding up the golden trophy, soaking up the champagne that his teammates spray all over him and hearing the applause from everyone, even you as a slow, lethargic clap rings from your hands. All to just to keep up the pretence of 'liking him' of course. Ugh, why did he have to win?

After a day of being the lone ranger in a journalists mission, you concede to following the crowd into the conference room where many like you await behind a wall of microphones and a valley of cables to hear from today's competitors. And Mark Wahlberg is one of them. This might be your chance to get a question in. Quick! Where's your recorder?

Fuck. It's not in your bag. Where is it? You rummage through your bag again and it's definitely not there. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where could it be? Did you lose it when you fell over? Has it been stolen? Fuck, you really need that!

You have no other option but to record from your phone and in your quiet, subdued panic, you try your best to catch anything he has to say. The quality isn't great and it's picking up outside noise to the point that articulation has no place on your recording. Sweating at the loss of some expensive equipment and valuable content, your phone drops and the clatter of it paints a mountain on its waveform, rendering the recording useless. Fuck, if you hadn't lost your recorder.

People start to look at you in your fluster and your legs starts bobbing erratically. The attention is too much and it's exactly why you prefer to stay behind the microphone and not in front of it. You have to leave. At the next possible opportunity, you end your recording and begin to make your way through the aisle, apologising profusely to the other journalists who wait for Tom Holland to make an appearance.

You just about make the double doors of the conference room when you hear Tom's voice welcoming the room.

"Before I start, I wanted to check to see if this was anyone's recorder..."

Everything about you stops dead in its tracks; your feet, your heart, your breathing, your entire existence. Nervously, you spin around to spot Tom Holland holding your recorder in his hands, fingers fluttering around its buttons. How the hell did he get his thieving hands on it?!

A pit opens up in your stomach at the dreaded thought of having to announce yourself in front of everyone to claim it. But damn, you really need your recorder back.

Braving the nightmare, your hand raises half-heartedly into the air. "Uh...it's mine. Sorry, I must've dropped it."

Tom's deep brown eyes lock onto yours from the stage and he throws, what you think, a sickly smile before he offers up the most ridiculous idea. "I can set to record if you want. I can sit it riiiiight here." He sits it directly in front of him and sends you a sly wink. It's a spot any journalist would dream of having their microphone; right under their nose on the off-chance that anything muttered under their breaths or whispered discreetly would be picked up. Journalists are a sucker for secrets. Quite frankly, you don't care for his secrets, you don't care for his thoughts on today's events, and you really don't care for what he has to say at all.

But the only reason why you end up saying yes is because you care more about what people would think of you if you gave up an opportunity like that.

"Sure. Thanks."

You proceed to endure 15 minutes of Tom glorifying himself in front of the press. God, it's embarrassing. You could plainly hear the snide tone underneath the guise of 'self-evaluation'. Everyone seems to soak it up like a sponge, praising him for his insightful words and self awareness, writing nothing but positive words about the actor. Whatever. You wish you could drown him out but your paranoia is rooted to your recorder at his table, thinking the worst outcome as his fingers toying with its external case. What if he doesn't know how to work it and accidentally erases all you had from today? One slip up and it's gone. Your eyes constantly flicker from your recorder to him and no matter who he's speaking to or where he's looking, he always manages to catch your gaze.

Already outside your comfort zone, you audibly whimper when you see him lightly tap the little trash button at the end of the recorder, miles away from the stop, pause and play buttons that you would regularly use. You would only ever press that button with intention, it’s pretty to hard to press it accidentally. Even without knowing how to work the recorder, it doesn't take an idiot to know what that means, so watching Tom play with it tells you that he is whole-heartedly toying with you, enjoying the view of you panicking from his throne of sadism.

It's like he can sense your hatred towards him.

~~~~

"Thank you, thank you! Until next year!" Tom smiles as he walks off stage, your recorder in his clutch. The further he walks away, the faster you bob and weave through the crowd, feeling like you're fighting against the tide as it sweeps you out. Then, just as the room empties you reach the entrance to the backstage area in a relief, only to hit a brick wall that stands in your way between you and your highly coveted recorder.

"No press allowed backstage." A security guard towers over you.

"Tom Holland has my recorder. I'd like to get it back." You have no time for polite small chat, your request grumbling with agitation.

"Still can't allow you back--"

"You can let her through, Jim. It's alright." A young boy’s voice echoes from behind the wall.

The guard hesitantly lets you through, keeping you under his iron gaze while you slip through the narrow space he gives you. You are led out into a hallway with plaques decorating the hall, awards from winners of tournaments the venue has previously hosted, the newest addition being Tom's 'Pro-Amateur' plaque much to your distaste.

The boy you recognise as Tom's caddie leads you down this hallway, he hasn't said so much as a word to you as he confidently walks ahead. Now he's getting his assistant to fetch you? God, the arrogance!

"He's in here."

"Thanks," you quietly mutter. The door closes behind you, locking both you and the actor into the room. When you started the day bright and early this morning, you didn't think this was where you were going to end up. You couldn't have put money on it.

Although, you have to admit: despite putting your heart and soul into avoiding Tom Holland the entire day, this could be an exclusive for your article. Nobody else has had this opportunity, so why not take advantage of it?

Tom smiles as he greets you, carelessly tossing your recorder from hand to hand. You swallow nervously. "You are...?"

You respond with your name, who you report for, and make it abundantly clear that you would like to take back your recorder in one piece.

He approaches with a small, boyish chuckle like you just told a joke. "Sorry, I was just thinking," he casually says, "about how you once said you refuse to take anything from me."

What? Where did he hear...? Fuck. He listened to it. And that entire conversation you had with the Sky Sports reporter...

Your mouth drops. As does the anchor in your stomach.

"What was it you said again...?"

"You listened to it." He ignores you.

"Oh yeah, that my 'mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire wouldn't receive the same compliments'."

"You...listened to it all?" you reiterate once again. Your voice rings with all the inflections of a question, but you already know the answer. Unfortunately.

Tom's brows furrow inward.

"Honestly, I can overlook the fact you insulted my outfit, it doesn't bother me that much." There's a 'but' in his sentence. You're just waiting for it. You inwardly panic, trying to remember what else you said that would warrant that dreaded 'but'. Your shield of writer's anonymity has fallen; it's what protects you if you are to ever post negatively about a celebrity, but now that he knows your name and your face, you're left exposed.

"But..." There it is. And in a disbelief, he bites, "I'm too easy? Really?"

There's two ways you could go about this. Stand your ground and defend yourself, or dig yourself a grave and apologise.

Ha. Yeah right.

"I don't really think it was your place to listen to my recordings."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Should've minded your business if you knew what was good for you."

"You--" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, almost to contain himself and tries again. "You," he points accusingly, "are very...very lucky that you look as attractive as your voice sounds."

Your cheeks flush angrily. Safe to say, you're not used to anyone calling you attractive let alone Tom Holland, so in your fluster you have no idea how to respond. You don't know how to tame the flutter in your heart nor the fire in your stomach. Instead, you ignore it all and revert back to your original goal.

"Can I have my recorder back? Please?"

"In a minute." He swats his hand away from yours. High above your reach, you stand helpless as you watch his thumb crash land onto the record button, resuming from where it last left off. "I think that what you have about me in your article is a little bit too harsh. Why don't we start putting some positivity back in. I think you have it in you to pay me just one compliment. I did win the competition after all, I think it's deserved."

You laugh hysterically. The nerve of this guy! So conceited. "You don't deserve anything from me."

"C'mon. Just one. It's not that hard. I promise I'll give you your recorder back straight after."

Succumbing to his torment, your eyes roll over his features, his hair, his outfit and his body, trying to identify possible compliments that would meet his demands but yet wouldn't inflate his ego too much. What you don't anticipate is you're spoiled for choice.

Defeated, you sigh. "You...smell nice."

"Aw, c'mon. I said you were attractive and all you could think of was that I smell nice? Try a little harder."

"Hey, you said the deal was that I give you one compliment then I get my recorder back. Cough up, Holland."

A smug grin pulls at his lips. "I'm not satisfied. And I will give it back when I am satisfied."

Given that your hatred towards Tom Holland is now at least justified and not just self-inflicted, it means that it's twice as hard to sacrifice it all and compliment him like he so desperately wants you to, a complete betrayal to your own beliefs. But you NEED your recorder.

"You look strong."

"Elaborate."

"You clearly work out."

"What in particular?"

"Your arms."

"How can you tell?" He's really pushing the mark, overstepping it by miles with the dirty smirk he has on his face because he knows he is. You audibly grumble at the sight. Losing patience...

"They just looked particularly...muscular when you were swinging the golf club."

"Why don't you give them a feel and you can tell your readers how strong they really are in detail? I know you want to."

Is it bad of you to admit that you do want to feel them? Absolutely. Are you going to announce that to him? Absolutely not.

You don't move for a couple of seconds, your own conscience making so much noise inside your head that you can't make a coherent thought. A spark of adrenaline twitches at your hands, enough to catch Tom's eyes but it's not enough to swing it into force.

Quietly, slowly, he reaches for your hand and envelopes his fingers around yours, manipulating them to wrap around his upper arm. He makes sure to mold your fingerprints into his skin while he tenses, just to feel the sheer density of his muscles. His skin is warm, soft to touch but yet firm to grasp. While you become instantly fascinated, his glistening smile brightens in the corner of your eye. It's so quiet in the room that Tom hears the softest stutter of breaths and he feels like a winner all over again.

"Well?" He nods towards the recorder, its red button flashing. For the readers...

"Definitely..." you clear your throat. Why has your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? You retract your hand. "Definitely toned. Sculpted."

"If that's what you like then I should show you this..."

He takes your hand once again, its warmth holding you captive, and drags it all the way down to his torso. You can't pull your eyes away from how he sensually slips your hand underneath the hem of his shirt and weaves your fingers between the valley of his abs. Your fingertips skate over every sculpted ab of his, feeling the way they almost shiver at your cold touch.

Your fingertips aren't enough. Tom takes a step closer and your whole palm presses against him, almost too intimately for strangers.

Tom's head quirks to the side to get a better view of you. "Thoughts?" he asks, even though he can read them so clearly on your face. You're becoming entranced.

"...Holy shit," you whisper. "Um, yeah. Strong."

"For a woman who had a lot to say about me, you're certainly lost for words now."

As the heat rises and things escalate, neither of you diffuse the tension and the string of long, uninterrupted silence continues. Every minute that passes by is a precarious step over crossing boundaries and breaking every rule you have in your moral bible.

It forces you to suck in a nervous breath and hold it for a few seconds while you deliberate what the end goal is. Of course, it was to leave with your recorder but given your current position and your change of opinions, you're not so sure anymore. To be clear, your change of opinion isn't necessarily about Tom; you still think he's conceited, arrogant and incredibly vain, but it is what you do with that opinion that has changed. Before, you avoided him, stopped yourself becoming another little lost sheep and following him at every opportunity. Now? You're giving him every drop of attention you have to give.

Tom watches you intently while he silently introduces himself to your shyer nature, definitely not the same person that walked in here in a fit of rage and demanding for their recorder. The minute he meets that side of you, he knows exactly what to do next.

He drops his head as he drops his voice into his lower register, your hand feeling all the rumblings from his chest. "Want to be completely speechless?"

Fuck it. Sure you do. "Mm-hm."

"Good girl."

You aren't actually sure what he's planning to do so you look for intention in his eyes, but you see nothing but darkened caverns and devilish features. In fact, it's because you're looking into his eyes that you don't realise that he's grown hard underneath his straight grey trousers. Like before, he guides your hand fluidly underneath the waistband where the button pops out easily, and navigates you under the elastic band where he desperately shapes your fingers around him. He pulses underneath you, shaking with relief that he has you exactly where he wants you.

You dare not pull your eyes away from his, even as they droop in his pleasure. More so now that you admit how seductive they look. You try to mirror that same seduction with a small smile, moving your hand up and down his shaft independently.

Fuck, the more you move your hand, the more you think it's never going to end. Bluntly put, he's huge.

As a journalist, you should be eloquent with your words, careful in your choice of vocabulary, definitive with your metaphors, but all those years of reading and writing falters the second the sheer size of him stuns you. It slightly pains you to be so tasteless but nevertheless, you don't think there's any other way to put it.

So caught up in the heat of it, your common sense finally comes to once again acknowledge your recorder in his hand. You forgot he had been recording this entire conversation...

He brings it closer to his lips, seductively whispering directly into it. "Just like that..." He keeps going. "Doing such a good job - fuck - don't stop."

Encouraged, and progressively feeling turned on, you tighten your hand around his cock and move faster.

"How do I feel, sweetheart?" The microphone tilts towards you. Detail. Although at this point, you don't think it's for your readers as much as it is for you and Tom.

"So big. I almost can't fit my hand around you."

He very nearly buckled. That voice of yours is like a siren to him. Little do you know that when he found your recorder and listened to all of your little angry ramblings about him, it had sparked up a fiery, unavoidable desire inside him. It was hell having to listen to your voice talk shit about him, he just couldn't stand it. He needed to hear you compliment him, worship him, adore him, and he spent every spare minute of his day replaying your recorder, instilling your voice to memory until he could manipulate your words, imagining what they would say about him.

But now that he actually gets to hear you feed into his desire is twice the satisfaction than he initially thought.

As quick as lightning hits, an idea occurs to him and it completely devastates his entire system; if hearing you compliment him turns him on, how would having you beg for him make him feel? The idea becomes such an unstoppable craving he already knows his imagination won't be able to satiate it this time. He needs it for real and right now.

"You wanna taste?"

Doe-like eyes stare up at him - oh, you are so capable of begging him - and your movements come to a halt...all except your thumb sweeping over his tip. You didn't actually think this was going to go any further than a hand job.

"You want me to?"

Oh no, no, no. This isn't about Tom begging. "Because I know you want to. I can see how desperately you want to tell everyone how I allowed you to come backstage, meet me, get on your knees for me, how I allowed you to suck me off and how I allowed you to taste me." His hand slithers up your jawline and brings you close, leaving nothing but a hair's breadth to separate you. As you anticipate the feeling of his lips, you have but his breath fanning over yours and the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach to feed from. "You just need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Beg. It was hard enough to lose one battle and compliment him, but to lose an even bigger one and beg? You would be absolutely humiliated.

Would be meaning if it was under any other circumstance, if you weren't so spellbound and seduced by him. But that simply isn't the case.

Not uttering another word, you slowly drop to your knees keeping Tom with the wicked grin within your sights. The zipper of his trousers comes undone and you pull him free, watching as his cock stands tall and bobs heavily with weight. Instinctively, your tongue rushes to wet your lips.

"Beg." Tom demands again. The recorder soon comes back into your view and your jaw clicks with frustration. He's capturing every single word much to his demented, power-hungry mind.

You chew through your irritation and instead tune into the feeling that's bubbling in and around your stomach, the one that's being powered by him. "Please," you breathe. "Please, Tom, I wanna suck you off so badly, I promise I'll be good."

"And do you promise to never write a bad word about me ever again?"

Oh, this fucker.

"I prom-"

"Say it like you mean it."

How you so wish you could lie through your teeth, but you know for a fact that from now on, any bad word you write about Tom Holland will forever be tied with this day. You'll think twice about writing badly because being on your knees for him will get in the way. You'll struggle to find the words to knock him because the compliments you paid him will stain your lips. You'll hesitate to criticise him because you'll remember how you verbalised about his good looks.

"I promise. Just--just let me taste you." It's sad how desperate you sound. "Please?"

He doesn't respond. There's one last warning to give.

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart pounds. Despite being adamant in your dislike for Tom, you do somehow get the feeling that the threat that rings through his tone is not one to be taken lightly. It buzzes a little too seriously for you to brush over it. So you answer accordingly.

"Okay, I promise."

The threat dissipates and he looks at you approvingly, his empty hand dropping to cup your cheek. You aren't so unaware of the twitch of his cock in your hand. "I just want to make it clear and put on the record that out of the two of us..." Tom angles you closer, "it's you that's the easy one. Too easy. So easy that you're already on your knees and begging me."

How you would slap that grin clean from his face. The scowl on yours warns him of it, but he simply laughs, mocking you.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Admit it." His boyish chuckle continues to ring in the air and its contagious effect pulls at your lips despite trying to hide it. He sees clearly that it pains you to admit it, so as a small motivator, he crouches to your level, his hand still cradling your cheek. In quieter words, though still delivered through a smirk, he murmurs..."Be a good girl for me, yeah?" His lips melting onto yours stops you from getting the chance to reply. The surprise of it fogs up your brain, submitted into a dream-like state as he gently molds his lips onto yours. It's short and leaves you wanting more.

With a flutter of lashes, you nod. "Atta girl."

He stands up taller once again and you take that as your cue to fulfill your promise. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue darts to sweep over his tip. His groans can be heard above you and no doubt heard by the recorder, crescendoing the second your head starts bobbing. Your hand covers what your mouth can't reach, doing as much as you can to make him feel good. It seems to work; his hips begin thrusting. Slowly, at first, to swing into rhythm but the more you swallow him the less control he has of his own movements, and soon, with your hair wrapped tightly around his fist, he's rutting erratically, drinking in the sounds of your moans of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so good at that."

"Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Taking me so well. Good girl."

"Just like that, shit."

"Look how easy you are, fuck. So willing, aren't you? You wanted a word for your precious Youth Diary? Here it is; you are so easy it's pitiful. Fuck--"

Tom's animalistic nature completely dominates to the point where your tears and gags are silently begging to slow down. Every part of you is screaming out: your throat is bruising, your lips are tearing, your eyes are streaming, your knees are cramping, but holy fuck hearing him talk about you like that fuels the fire inside you.

His thighs twitch underneath your hands and you think he might just cum down your throat. The red-hot grip he has of your roots is your only warning before that happens.

Warmth fills your mouth and you're quick to swallow it down before you choke, like it’s instinct. He holds you hostage with his cock deep in your mouth, using you to string out the orgasm for as long as he can. Minutes later, you open your eyes to see Tom hunching over, still very much catching up to you in regaining his composure. His white fist grips the recorder while the other remains tangled through your locks, keeping you in place to prevent you teasing him any further.

When all seems settled, Tom lifts your chin once more - dabbing off the little drop you seem to have missed - and catches your gaze from behind the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You already know what he's going to ask of you and when he perches the recorder in front of you, he shoots you a wink.

"Detail." He simply says.

"Hmm, you taste so good, Tom. Best I've ever had. I could taste you all day."

At that moment, something snaps in Tom. The smirk drops and his jaw tenses. It's small, minute changes, but it dramatically changes the atmosphere in the room. You just don't know whether it's for better or for worse.

You find your answer when Tom's muscular arms promptly tuck themselves under your arms with vigour, yanking you up onto your feet. The clatter of your recorder steals your attention as Tom carelessly throws it onto a coffee table to his right; after all, he needs his hands to be free if he is planning on returning the favour. You should be complaining about his lack of regard for your equipment and how he could've broken it, but the red flashing light still shows sign of life, so you decide to overlook it for now. Besides, Tom doesn't give you long before he whips your head back to claim your lips, hungrily moaning into them as he forces his body weight against yours and slams you flat against the wall. The collision whips all of the air out of your lungs but it isn't what causes the gasp to jump from your throat. Tom's lips find your neck, suckling onto the supple skin with intentions to bruise, all to distract you from his hand slipping under your skirt. With ease, he palms your cunt, offering just enough of a tease to have you burning for more.

"I need to hear you say my name again with that voice of yours." Ah, so that's what triggered him.

"Tom," you mewl, almost purring.

"As sexy as that sounds, I think it will sound even better when you’re cumming for me."

Oh fuck.

It's frightening how quickly Tom is able to weaken you with just the deft touch of his fingers to your clit and punishing kisses to your neck. You try your best to soak it in and remain somewhat stable to remember every moment of it, but goddammit you can't keep yourself together. So much so that despite Tom claiming to adore the sound of your voice, for the sake of dignity, he keeps his hand clamped hard against your mouth. Neither of you want curious ears to overhear the scandal coming from within.

Never did you think that Tom's all-round talents included making a girl cum so easily. It's kind of frustrating.

His fingers circle around your clit, dragging and pulling every nerve he can find and it winds you up perfectly. Legs shaking, breath faltering, you suspect you have mere seconds before he takes your orgasm.

Your whines and moans buzz from behind Tom's hand, muffled and diffused. Eventually he lets go, and replaces his hand with his lips, once again thrashing against yours.

"You gonna cum for me?"

"Fuck, I--"

"Say my name. Beg me to let you cum."

"Tom, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum."

Two fingers slot themselves into you, his palm taking over pleasing your clit and you have to stop yourself from buckling. It is the last sign Tom needs to know that you're on the precipice of shattering. With a devilish twinkle to his eye and a crooked smile, he sinks closer to you, his lips narrowly brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers the word. "Cum."

In a similar fashion to Tom what seems like hours ago, you come undone. Your hands grip onto his shoulders for stability as he refuses to stop abusing your cunt. His fingers dig deeper, his hand moves faster, and the tight curl of his knuckle breaking you sends you spiralling.

The gut-twisting tension soon turns to tranquil bliss as he slows his movements, finally catching a breath to revel in the post-orgasm haze with a twitch or two catching you out.

For as egotistical as you believed Tom to be, with the grounding kisses he litters over your cheek, neck, lips, he completely negates that belief. He utterly dominated you, yet affection fuels his movements; something you don't expect a vain person to have. Maybe he isn't all you made him out to be...

Calmly, you both collect yourselves until you're presentable, standing apart within the room as if what just happened never happened. The heat of the room is all that's left to suggest otherwise.

Tom doesn't stop you from reaching for your recorder, the plastic rectangular object feeling like home in your hand. You firmly press the stop button, letting the audio file save before you address Tom again.

"Thanks for...y'know, keeping it safe. I genuinely don't know what I would've done if I lost it."

Tom smiles kindly. "It's no problem."

"Oh, and congratulations."

He nods humbly. "Thank you. I didn't actually think I was going to win it, but I guess luck was on my side." Huh. He's not bragging...

Settling your recorder into your bag, you begin to make your way out of the room. You hadn't realised how late it had gotten and how hungry you had became until your stomach grumbled loudly. As you take your cue to leave, Tom leads you out with a gentle hand to the small of your back and chills arise. Shit. Don't start liking him now...

Tom clears his throat before you completely disappear. "Will I be seeing you lurking about any other events this year?"

Something about his question makes you smile. "Maybe. I've got a few film premieres that I will be attending."

"Good. Well, if any of them include me, I'll make sure to review your work again." How his wink makes you weak.

"Hmm, we'll see, Tom Holland."

~~~~~

It takes you over a week after the golfing event to eventually find the courage to finish writing your article. Most of it is written from what you remember thinking throughout the day, but your work leaves much to be desired. All that's missing from the article can be found on your recorder that you have deliberately been ignoring knowing what filth it contains.

It takes a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night to find the bravery to listen to it once again. It all goes smoothly at first, words flow from your mind to your fingertips and your article slowly builds as your past self feeds you your own commentary from that day. You were going to stick with your original idea, deciding to keep in all your criticisms about Tom Holland because who's going to stop you?

But your valour is short lived. Because you've reach the end. When you think you have the finished product, a masterpiece of literacy for your readers to enjoy and you have nothing else to write. Just when you think you're about to press 'publish' that you reach that part of your recording that you just can't bring yourself to turn off.

Shit, it turns you on so much to hear Tom's voice once again demand that you promise to never write another criticism again and the way you caved so easily in your lust-induced state. Even listening to it makes you resonate with it all over again, resurrecting the same excitement and anxiety to stir in your stomach. It's a reminder that persuades you that you don't necessarily agree with what you write about Tom. It makes you reconsider all that you've just written, your finger hovering over the backspace button prepared to fix the promise you're about to break.

Fuck. It's such a good story. Probably one of the best articles you've written. Alas, with the disagreement going on in your head, you can't find it in yourself to commit to it. There's also the problem that if you are to post it, the privilege of writers' anonymity will no longer be in your possession. Tom does, after all, know your name and your face, and you are damn sure he will take the time to find it and read it. What unnerves you is that you have no idea what actions he might take. How could you forget that warning?

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

So there you sit with your empty glass of wine, chewing nervously on your nails while your eyes dry at the light of the screen you've been deliberating over for the last three hours. The question still remains.

What do you do?

[simply-ivanka]

A Minnesotan Sizes Up Tim Walz

During his tenure, student achievement has slipped, crime has surged, and state residents have fled.

By Scott W. Johnson - Wall Street Journal

St. Paul, Minn.

Tim Walz has such a bad record as Minnesota’s governor that I was astonished when he landed on Vice President Kamala Harris’s vice-presidential shortlist. As Minnesota’s Center of the American Experiment has documented, under Mr. Walz Minnesota has become a high-crime state. Student achievement has tumbled as spending on schools has skyrocketed. Per capita gross domestic product has fallen below the national average. Minnesotans have joined residents of New York, California and Illinois in fleeing their home state.

Pennsylvania Gov. Josh Shapiro—also on Ms. Harris’s shortlist—made sense to me. Pennsylvania is a key state. Mr. Shapiro seems to be a man of substance and would give liberal Jews a reason to vote for Ms. Harris without a guilty conscience. As a Jewish supporter of Israel, I worried that Mr. Shapiro would give the animus throbbing in the heart of the Democratic Party cover. Indeed, that animus drove a nasty intraparty campaign against him.

But Tim Walz? I’m a conservative Republican. I don’t completely understand Democrats’ ways. As an observer of Minnesota politics, however, I understand how Mr. Walz became governor. Having served six terms in Congress from a rural district, he challenged the endorsed DFL (Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party) candidate—a liberal metro-area state senator, Erin Murphy—in the 2018 DFL primary. Ms. Murphy was also challenged by another metro-area liberal, Lori Swanson, then state attorney general. With Ms. Murphy and Ms. Swanson dividing the liberal urban vote, Mr. Walz and his far-left running mate, former state Rep. Peggy Flanagan, won the primary with 41%.

On taking office in 2019, Gov. Walz was restrained by a one-seat Republican majority in the state Senate—until Covid hit in the spring of 2020. He declared a state of emergency on March 25, 2020, and ruled by decree for 15 months. He proclaimed the emergency on the basis of an allegedly sophisticated Minnesota Model projection of the virus’s course in the state. In fact, the projection reflected a weekend’s work by graduate students at the University of Minnesota School of Public Health. Relying on their research, Mr. Walz presented a scenario in which an estimated 74,000 Minnesotans would perish from the virus. The following week the Star Tribune reported that with the lockdown Mr. Walz ordered, 50,000 would die. Maybe it would have been preferable to address the virus through democratic means.

Having destroyed jobs and impeded life routines, including family get-togethers and church attendance, Mr. Walz finally let his one-man rule lapse on July 1, 2021. When the Johns Hopkins Coronavirus Resource Center stopped counting in March 2023, the deaths of 14,870 Minnesotans were attributed to the virus. (In 2020 I successfully sued the administration for excluding me from Health Department press briefings on Covid.)

During the state of emergency, protests broke out in Minneapolis on Memorial Day 2020 following the death of George Floyd. That Thursday, rioters burned Minneapolis’s Third Precinct police station to the ground. Mr. Walz didn’t deploy the National Guard until the weekend. Riots, arson and looting throughout the Twin Cities caused about $500 million in damage.

Minnesota leads the nation in Covid fraud. Under the auspices of the Feeding Our Future nonprofit, its founder, Aimee Bock, allegedly recruited mostly young Somali men to seek reimbursement for millions of meals supposedly served to poor students and families. According to indictments handed up by a grand jury to U.S. Attorney Andrew Luger, Ms. Bock and others allegedly defrauded the state and federal government of $250 million. Ms. Bock has pleaded not guilty to the fraud charges.

Among the 70 defendants charged to date, 18 have pleaded guilty. In April the first of the cases to go to trial had seven defendants; five were convicted. The remaining cases have yet to be tried. In all, the Minnesota Department of Education oversaw the payout of $250 million to reimburse fictitious meals. The nature and scale of the fraud are staggering. Mr. Walz tried to blame state district court judge John Guthmann, who in April 2021 handled a case regarding the department’s processing of applications for reimbursements. According to Mr. Walz, Judge Guthmann ordered the state to continue payouts to the alleged perpetrators of the fraud even after the state Education Department discovered it.

In September 2022, Judge Guthmann authorized a news release titled “Correcting media reports and statements by Gov. Tim Walz concerning orders issued by the court.” The release concluded: “As the public court record and Judge Guthmann’s orders make plain, Judge Guthmann never issued an order requiring the MN Department of Education to resume food reimbursement payments to FOF. The Department of Education voluntarily resumed payments and informed the court that FOF resolved the ‘serious deficiencies’ that prompted it to suspend payments temporarily. All of the MN Department of Education food reimbursement payments to FOF were made voluntarily, without any court order.”

In November 2022 Mr. Walz was elected to a second term, and the DFL won majorities in both chambers of the Legislature. In the preceding two years the state had accumulated an $18 billion budget surplus. With the DFL in full control, Mr. Walz and the Legislature have spent the $18 billion surplus on infrastructure, education and other programs that will burden the state for years. They have also raised taxes.

Mr. Walz and his DFL colleagues have backed measures establishing Minnesota as a mecca for abortion and a “trans refuge.” The legislation prohibits enforcing out-of-state subpoenas, arrest warrants and extradition requests for people from other states who seek treatment that is legal in Minnesota. It also bars complying with court orders issued in other states to remove children from their parents’ custody for authorizing hormone treatment or surgery to alter sex characteristics.

Like so many Democrats who have kept up with the demands of the progressive agenda, Mr. Walz has “grown” in office. In his second term, he has been the most left-wing Minnesota governor since the socialist Floyd B. Olson (1931-36). I doubt that Mr. Walz could be elected to Congress in his old district, which is now represented by a Republican. The idea that he can appeal to voters who don’t already support Ms. Harris seems far-fetched.

Mr. Johnson is a retired Minneapolis attorney and contributor to the site Power Line.

[sgiandubh]

The case against 'sharenting'

Yesterday, an Anon @bat-cat-reader got made me think. Long and hard, far and wide - research included.

Here is the Anon: https://www.tumblr.com/bat-cat-reader/750859423333908480/lo-bueno-de-estar-revisando-redes-constantemente?source=share . I wanted to piggyback first, then I realized the issue was way more important than the person in question. And decided to post everything separately.

Loved this very matter of fact, calm Anon and I totally agree with what was said about overexposing a child online.

This sudden surge of completely inappropriate information about that child raised an eyebrow, and then some more. It begs, as always when dealing with minors, the question of privacy, as opposed to using their image for what obviously is self-promotion. And more generally, what is called 'sharenting', a portmanteau combining 'sharing' (info) and 'parenting' that was quite recently invented by The Wall Street Journal to describe a more and more widespread phenomenon.

That some parents would just love to have and even share digital mementoes of their child(ren) is apparently ok. Others, however, choose to monetize their kids, turning them into a sales argument. I am still floored at such disingenuous choices, that might have serious consequences for their future. And I am not the only one, mind you: a 2018 report by England's Children Commissioner, the leading government official competent for protecting and promoting children's rights, found out that parental digital oversharing is a high risk behavior for the child.

Short term, as in identity theft ...

... to long term, as in lost academic or professional opportunities - the 2018 warning made only more compelling by the recent AI craze:

[Source: England's Children Commissioner Report 'Who Knows What About Me?', 2018 - online: https://assets.childrenscommissioner.gov.uk/wpuploads/2018/11/cco-who-knows-what-about-me.pdf]

You'll find this very recent article from The Guardian absolutely enlightening, too. I certainly did: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/feb/26/son-social-media-parents-children

Particularly this - I am not a mom, so Mordor bitches will certainly point this salient detail out, you see. But maybe this journalist mom's POV could give them (and maybe even other people) pause:

Pedophile. Quite chilling, right? Pedophile rings actively searching for children photos inadvertently being shared online, to feed sick obsessions worldwide (do not be parochial and think those pics must be of an ambiguous nature!). Instagram being currently in very hot water for its strange content promoting algorithm, allowing pedophiles to easily access children photos and personal data, based on exif. Digital kidnapping, as in criminals pretending to be the child's parents, for various financial or pathological reasons.

Think I am a stupid, stupid shipper with an agenda? Then so is the US House of Representatives Energy and Commerce Commission. Last year, a joint statement has been released by two if its members (and before Mordor starts screeching about 'the MAGA mommies obsession for pedophilia', let it be said it is a bipartisan, Democrat and Republican initiative), about the fact that 'Instagram hosts a vast network of pedophilic content and that its algorithms are actively driving users to this content':

[Source: https://energycommerce.house.gov/posts/pallone-rodgers-demand-answers-from-instagram-after-reports-the-platform-is-driving-users-to-child-sex-abuse-material]

It followed a long report on Instagram's less than responsible practices in the matter, published by The Wall Street Journal, not your next door digital gossip rag (subscribers only, but you'll have an idea: https://www.wsj.com/articles/instagram-vast-pedophile-network-4ab7189?st=mbga8lpdddfm5dh&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink)

Mark this statement: 'It is clear these companies cannot be trusted to protect children on their platforms'. I, not even a mom (but an aunt, a friend and a godmother, too), cannot even start to express my disgust at the hypocrisy of barely hiding children's faces on a certain blog, but at the same time allowing rabid speculation about a child's whereabouts, based on what is clearly a case of sharenting. All the mothers, grandmothers and aunts commenting under that post would have to take a long, hard look at themselves in a mirror. And also ask themselves why they allowed their personal fantasy to get an upper hand on common sense?

That is a terrible, terrible shame. And then people wonder why is C not sharing anything? Would you share your kid(s) to that mob? I wouldn't and it is my strong belief no mother in her right mind would.

Last but not least, reckless digital behavior comes with risks, costs and consequences. Including legal ones, taking into account what very probably is some loose, rather informal agreement of co-parenting (as opposed to a stricter, 50/50 shared custody system), as per Scottish family law. Something I shall briefly try to explain, for context purposes only:

Unlike many other legal systems in the world, the 1995 Scottish Children Act has a slightly different approach to custody (or what they call 'residence'), in which the child's best interest, as well as the parents' own agreement (called a Parenting Plan) are paramount. By the same token, it does not matter if the parents were married or just common law partners, for example. This allows for less cumbersome living and financial arrangements, provided the two parties agree, and also for quicker procedures, as the law does not encourage parents to go to Court, if an agreement has been reached ('no-order principle'). Mediation and legal assistance services are readily available to make every particular case fit in the local Parenting Plan framework. On the other hand, because in legal matters all things are (must be, really) symmetrical, it is relatively easy to have parental rights and responsibilities enforced (example: issue an order stipulating to cease and desist from posting on Instagram), or even removed, in Court. While removal is a bit of a hassle (supporting statements are required, either from an independent witness/not a relative or Social Welfare Services), the enforcement is way easier and just requires a basic contradictory procedure in Court.

For example, a child's proven overexposure on the Internet can very well be successfully contended in Court, if things go South. Especially in an emotionally loaded local context:

[Source: https://news.sky.com/story/seven-members-of-paedophile-gang-guilty-of-running-monstrous-child-sex-abuse-ring-13008082 - you read the article if you want, it's brutal]

I am not saying this will happen. What I am trying to say is simply that nobody (and I repeat: nobody) should play with fire, like this. Neither the parent, nor the public. This is a plea for decency across the dashboard I strongly felt I should make, if others won't.

No shitshow, no fantasy, no obsession should ever put a child's life at potential risk like that. You see, children are rarely asked if they would like to be shown off as circus monkeys.

[nando161mando]

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[theresattrpgforthat]

any ttrpgs for spooky dark boarding school stories? gotham academy, the boarding school: las cumbres, wednesday, that kinda thing?

THEME: Dark Boarding Schools

Hello there, at first I felt like this overlapped with all of my magic school recommendations, but once I did some digging, I realized that there's a lot of big differences! That also means that there was a good number of games I haven't recommended before, so I hope there's something here that fits what you're looking for.

Tangled Blessings, by Cassi Mothwin.

On the eve of your final exam at Brackroot Academy, what mysteries, secrets, dread, and drama will you recall from your last four years of schooling?

Tangled Blessings is a solo journaling or two-player RPG inspired by dark academia media, ghost stories, and graduate school. Featuring a wizarding college, wandering specters, assigned houses, curses, devils’ bargains and more supernatural flavor, Tangled Blessings blends horror and the fantastical to help players craft a story that spans their time at the academy — culminating in one final showdown against their rival.

If your favorite stories ever involved sneaking around an ancient building, uncovering dangerous secrets, studying in a dusty library, practicing spells on the lawn, or making perilous deals with creatures lurking in the darkness… This game is for you.

Tangled Blessings is a game about discovering the dark secrets hidden behind the allure of a secret magical world. You use a tarot deck to determine your character’s placement at the school, the nature of their rival, and the ghosts and creatures that will emerge throughout your years at the school. Each year is represented by a series of card draws, which will represent events that you have to decide how you respond to. If you play this game using the 2-player variant, each of you will play each-other’s rivals, comparing your results to see how the school year affects the both of you. The game culminates in a Final Exam that will determine whether you or or rival comes out on top.

St. Hornbeck, by belsaas.

Welcome to St. Hornbeck College/

Atop a small hill in the woods just outside the small town of Southfield, WI sits a College. Old, copper-rimmed limestone buildings huddle together against the harsh winters, while herds of students wander between them in search of wisdom, kinship and the occasional party. Soon, those herds of students will include you. There are two main reasons for enrolling at St. Hornbeck. Firstly, they have a leading program in the field you want to major in (yes, whatever you may choose). Secondly, there are only a handful of colleges that accept monster-teens in America…

This game relies on traditional teenage tropes to inform your character background, and leans fully into the allegory of monstrosity being a metaphor for young adulthood. Gameplay occurs over a series of scenes, marking various days in the calendar of the school year. In each scene, you can roll for or choose complications related to your monstrosity as a way to invite tension and obstacles for your characters to overcome. If you want to see something that’s a bit darker, you might want to check out this game’s inspiration, by snagging Midnight Oil from Jay Dragon’s Patreon.

Lost Years, by Summerwood Games.

The boarding school in this game is any boarding school, every boarding school. The walls are old stone or red brick, the dormitories are filled with young people going through the agonizing process of becoming themselves, classrooms retrofitted with ceiling tiles and modern lighting.

There are spaces of this school that belong only to us students, sacred rites performed in them that mean nothing to others and everything to us. We smoke cigarettes in the basement, make out in the tack room, make meaningful eye contact across the cricket pitch. I will tell you two truths and a lie: no one can take these years from us, none of us will be the same when we leave, no class will teach us more than we learn from one another. Can you see now which one is the lie? We couldn’t.

Lost Years is a Belonging Outside Belonging game set in a boarding school menaced by a mysterious force that threatens to empty the students of everything that makes them themselves. Meant for 3-5 players, it can be played as a one-shot but is most suited for multi-session play. 

Lost Years looks to be a game that focuses on the emotional highs and lows of being a teenager trying to survive in a strange environment away from the eyes of their parents - but still under the control of some form of authority. Your characters will fill the roles of various tropes from boarding school media, such as the Sporty One, or the Witchy One.

Because this game is BoB, the school itself will fill the foreground, with various locations such as the Attic and the Greenhouse being fleshed out by different players around the table. If you want a game that focuses on the themes of dark academia and how they affect the relationships of these students, you might want to check out Lost Years.

Never & More, by Small Stories.

NEVER & MORE is a quick-play roleplaying game and Edgar Allan Poe-inspired hack of John Harper's Lasers & Feelings.

You are the newest recruits of The Society of Ushers, an occult secret society. Your mission is to prove yourself to your superiors, master the rituals required to move up a rung, and learn how to talk to ravens. Your direct superior and teacher, the Belfry-Devil, has finally deemed you suitable to circulate by yourselves amongst greater society, trusting you to remain faithful to the Ushers in the face of attempted poaching, targeted seduction, and superior parties.

This isn’t necessarily a game about academia, but I think it carries similar elements of learning, dark secrets, and hierarchy. Lasers and Feelings games balance your characters between two qualities; in this case, you are torn between your desire for safety and your hunger for knowledge. You can play this as a one-shot or draw it out if you like, just keep in mind that these types of games usually don’t have resources for character advancement, so your characters won’t gain any new abilities - although whether or not they learn from their mistakes is up to you.

Precarious Prep, by Seaworks.

Welcome to Precarious Prep.

Something dark is going on at Precarious Preparatory School, and one detective - your GM - needs somebody on the inside. In the daytime you'll take classes, get to know the students and faculty, figure out who you can trust. The better you do in class, the faster you'll level up. At night you'll investigate the campus, search for clues, and unlock puzzles. Report your discoveries to the detective to gain points.

Instead of having 6 universal stats, Precarious Prep uses a curriculum - the stats your character takes on are determined by the course load you pick up each trimester. The better you do in classes, the more firepower you’ll have in your investigations. Classes can be fully relevant, partially relevant, or irrelevant to the checks you need to make throughout the game, so coordinate with your team and round out your education with a variety of skills.

Precarious Prep uses something called Discovery Points to indicate how close your students are to revealing what exactly is going on at this preparatory school. Your characters use the things they are learning in class to investigate the mystery, while trying to avoid generating enough suspicion to get them kicked out. Many of the rules strive to generate a number of different gambles that the players can take while trying to gather information - will you do something that increases your chances of success while also increasing your chances of getting expelled? Can you get enough information before the school year ends - or before one of you gets killed?

This game is still in open beta, which means it’s free, but also that it might still have some kinks that need to be worked out. The designer is very eager for feedback, so if you take a look at this game, you might be able to contribute to the final product!

I’d Also Recommend….

The Gardening Club, by Wizard of Ox.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Anti-Zionism is still a tenet of faith for many ultra-orthodox Jews, who view the creation of the state as heretical before the Messiah’s return. In fact, the Agudath Israel World Organisation which had official pre-war recognition in the parliaments of Poland, Lithuania and Romania, actually petitioned the UN against recognising Israel in 1947. Moreover, the largest secular Jewish party in swathes of pre-war eastern Europe was the Bund, a socialist and fiercely anti-Zionist party. On the eve of the Holocaust in 1938, it won 17 out of the 20 Warsaw city council seats taken by Jewish parties.   Most of these Jews – including members of my family – died in the Nazi genocide. Were they antisemites? Would this Congress not have made a distinction between them and the fascists who murdered them? Apparently not.  To please Tel Aviv and its backers in Washington, the 5 December Congress resolution spits on their memory and goes after their spiritual descendants, the thousands of anti-racist Jews who blockaded New York’s Grand Central station and the Manhattan bridge in solidarity with Palestinians in Gaza.  

[...]

The tragic bad maths of the stripped-down equation that ‘anti-Zionism = antisemitism’ answers no questions posed by oppressed people. It is just applauded by pro-Israel lobbies in the US such as AIPAC and the Anti-Defamation League. The equation is banner-headlined in Israel by the Jerusalem Post, in the US by the Wall St Journal and, here, by the Spectator and Daily Telegraph. It turns reality on its head to label opposition to ethnic cleansing and apartheid as racism.