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cillspropertea · 2 years ago

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Chapter 20 : Horses

Warnings: tense situations, strong language.

This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay. The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. 😁 It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

Word count: 1882

She walked as if her spine was made of steel with men either sides of her. Polly simply stood next to the car, smoking a cigarette. She was quietly observing how everything would unfold and ready to lurch in if things got bad. But she knew this was Esmeralda’s battle and she had the strength to win and conquer.

They despised her but according to their own traditions, all immediate family members were supposed to be present at the funeral and perform the last rites. They had planned though, a lot of painful things for Esmeralda, but luckily for her she wasn’t their property anymore so the only thing they could do was stare and throw daggers through their eyes, which too were useless on her. But some were still too stupid to get the message. “How dare you let this woman into our lands Leader? Have you no respect for the deceased?” Lord David accused Bonnie as he had walked to meet Esmeralda halfway and kissed her forehead. “My sister is innocent. Didn’t you hear the confessions of my Grandmother before she fell sick? Or do you think she lied?” Bonnie raised a brow. “She could be manipulating the truth to help her at another chance at life maybe. We all know how big Malaiah’s heart was.” Esmeralda scoffed shaking her head, “But even if she was telling the truth, what about the knowledge of her placing a curse on them? On our own people? Just like her god danm birth mother!” “My mother did not do anything!” Esmeralda’s voice echoed throughout the grounds. “She had a pure heart and soul. All of you mistreated her. If she would have been any wiser, she should have placed a curse on all of you, just the way you all accuse her of doing so!” She barked at them, making sure her tone depicted how unwavering and fearless she felt while saying those words. “So you are not denying it?” Lord David asked like the stubborn ass he was, “No!” her answer caused commotion in the crowd people started chanting “Liar!”, “Traitor!”, ”Witch!” “Should have finished the job when we had her!”. A gunshot shut everyone up. “Enough!” Bonnie shouted.

When the crowed settled, Bonnie signaled Esme to bring Elizabeth and Lilly from cars behind the wagons. When Bonnie had refused to marry them off to the clan leaders of Scamp and Wood, they had threatened to kidnap them, “…as soon as we get a chance…” So he had decided to keep them hidden, until they decided to negotiate verbally. Both the sisters ran towards Esmeralda hugging her and almost toppling her over. “How are you both doing huh?” She kissed their foreheads. “We missed you so much Emmy! Thank God you’re okay!” Bonnie cleared his throat at which all three of them nodded and stood steadier on the ground.

All the belongings of the deceased had been placed inside the wagons and now nothing but setting them alight was left to do. The priest began to say the final words in honor of the dead after which the torch was lit and all four of them, Esmeralda, Bonnie, Elizabeth and Lilly held the torch to set the wagons on fire. Bonnie whispered looking between his sisters and then at Esme, who was a few paces behind them, “To new beginnings…” to which they silently agreed on and lit the corpses of the two beings who did not deserve to live in the first place.

-----

The final rites were done but just when Polly and Esmeralda began to say their good-byes to Bonnie, Esme and the girls, a commotion interrupted them. Iris, Bonnie’s second-in-command rushed to him and whispered something in his ear making the clan leader’s eyes go wide. He asked Esme to take the girls to safety but Esme muttered, “… too late!”. Bonnie cursed under his breath and then ordered Iris to get his armed men as soon as possible. Heavy horse hoofs could be heard stomping the ground. Shelby men once again surrounded Polly and Esmeralda to insure safety. “What’s happening?” Polly asked, worried. “The leaders of Scamp and Wood clan are here.” He said looking straight ahead.

-----

They had to be around one hundred men from each clan. On horses and armed to their teeth. They stopped right next to the gathered crowd as their leaders, slowly on their horses, came forward. Both of them had to be at least in their late sixty’s or early seventy’s. The leader of the Scamp’s was bald, with wrinkles and blackening teeth while the Wood leader’s hair were completely white with a deep scar across his face. Both of them had a horrible sort of deviousness on their faces. ‘God! Father! What were you thinking?’ Esmeralda thought. She will never let these monsters have Lilly and Elizabeth. Even if she had to lose her life over it. The armed Gold men soon came and stood behind Bonnie, Esme and Esmeralda with guns and rifles pointed at the intruders. “Well! This aint the kind of welcome I was expectin’ here today Morris!” the scamp leader chuckled. “Well Stanley, this is what we get for gettin’ too friendly eh? Tch tch tch…” they got off the horses and walked towards Bonnie. “Hey Bonnie boy! What are these guns for eh? We aint here to make trouble!” Stanley said. His eyes defying his words. “Yeah boy! We just came to present our…. Condolences to your family...” Morris smirked and bowed. “…as it shall soon be our family as well right?” he winked at them, “I thought I’d made it danm clear how that arrangement wouldn’t work out when I called you both yesterday to inform you men about Father’s demise…” they both exchanged a look and then shook his head, “We feel disappointed Bonnie boy! Because even though most of the clans were unhappy and angry even, as you’d become the new clan leader, we were rooting for you.” Morris said cocking his head, “Yeah! We thought you would be quite accommodating and supportive of the way your Father did things! Since you had been under his training for so long!” Before Bonnie could reply they both started walking on either sides of them, towards the burning wagons behind them. “They were both good people.” Morris kept a hand on his chest, feigning pain. “They understood the values and traditions of our ancestors.” Stanley agreed.

“But death is inevitable. I’m sure they are watching us from the heavens and …” they walked back to Bonnie, ignoring Esmeralda, Polly and Esme as if they did not exist at all. “… expect their commitments be fulfilled eh?” Bonnie wanted to lunge at them, kill them with his bare hands. He knew they were here for his sisters. But he swallowed his anger and said in the calmest tone he could muster up, “But in the end, Leaders, we have to understand that they were human beings. Not Gods. And as their successor and the new clan leader it is my duty to undo their mistakes and not let them happen ever again!”

“You dare to step back from your fathers deal boy!” Morris shouted with gritted teeth, no doubt, trying to pressurize Bonnie. “It doesn’t matter how many times you both call me ‘boy’. You both do realize I am at the same designation as yours right?” Bonnie smiled. “My sisters are too young to be wed right now.” “Now this is more appropriate Bonnie!” They both looked excited. “How many years do you wish to keep the engagements eh? Two, three?” “They will marry according to their wishes.” Esmeralda said, unable to keep silent anymore. Both the men stared at her,“Shut up woman! Have you no shame? How dare you talk when the men are discussing such important matters?” “And who are you to decide the fate of the women of our clan eh?” she shouted, roaring like a lioness. The whole Gold clan listening and watching.

“I am aware of your story girl! Stanley! She is the Shelby slut isn’t she? The one who was stoned for being a whore!” Morris raised his eyebrows, eying Esmeralda’s body from head to toe, pausing at some particular spots. “Yeah! She is. She is a beauty though isn’t she? Tommy Shelby must have trained her well! Just the way we’ll train your sisters.” Esmeralda wanted to spit on his face, shoot his skull so many times that his head exploded and his brain smeared her and everyone surrounding them. But she didn’t. She knew their words were a reflection of what the Gold clan thought of her too. It was time to shut them all up, Instead of denying or presenting some sort of explanation she smiled and looked down. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her ring on her finger and thought of Thomas. Imagined him right next to her, supporting her. She knew, no matter what happened today, she will have his support behind her. So, when she looked back up again, she had summoned that brave inner-demon of hers already. “Of course I am! I am Thomas Shelby’s bitch!” Both the men’s mouths went agape as they had expected her to feel insulted. Rubbing her nails to her dress, she continued with a smile, “I am the very slut who keeps his bed warm at night. I take care of his child, I take care of him. Hell, he even shares me with his associates sometimes as well! I’ve even saved his life once!” Bonnie frowned as his jaw clenched, “And you know what? After all of these things that I’ve done and will continue doing for him, as we are engaged now, by the way, I haven’t asked a thing in return.” She cocked her head to one side, watching and enjoying the shocked expressions on the men’s faces. “You know who Thomas Shelby is right? You know who ‘my man’ is? How much power he holds?” She looked at Polly beside her. “What do you think he will do Polly if I ‘asked’ him to destroy a clan or two for me eh?” Polly chuckled. “Darling, the best thing about being with the bad guy is…” she looked at Morris and Stanley’s eyes “They don’t think twice before destroying the world for you!” there was silence. As if their tongues had been cut out. “And what about that shipment of yours huh? The one with opium?” Stanley and Morris looked like they were about to shit their pants. “The one coming from the waterways into the city tomorrow? You know it’ll just take us one phone call right? He has the cops on his fucking payroll.” Polly loved this part of her work. This look of pure shock, hatred and suppressed anger always intoxicated her. “If you so much as glance at my sisters! I will make sure your whole clan’s eyes are gauged out the very next moment.” Esmeralda walked backwards to her car with a sassy swing of her hips, “This is not a threat, ‘boy’ this is a dare.” Polly snapped. They opened their mouths to say something but before they could, Esmeralda and Polly had taken both the girls into their car and were driving away.

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #Peaky Blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy x oc #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #polly gray #aunt polly #esmeralda gold #Bonnie Gold #Esme Shelby

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coolmarriagerecords · 4 years ago

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On Chronophage

By Zachary Lipez

https://zacharylipez.substack.com/p/notes-on-the-mekons-chronophage-and

Chronophage are a band from Texas. They have been around for three years. Chronophage consists of Parker Allen (they/them) guitar and vox, Sarah Beames (she/her) bass and vox, and Cody Phifer (he/him) drums. For the new record, Parker’s brother, Casey Allen (he/him) plays synth. That’s all I know about Chronophage. The internet shows no interviews and, besides punk zines I don’t own (and presumably critics on Terminal-Boredom forums), the music press outside of Austin has ignored them. I first heard about the band from MaximumRnR, which listed their debut, Prolog for Tomorrow, released in December of 2018, as one of the best albums of 2019 (you can do stuff like that when you’re a revered punk zine). Because MRR is famously *cough* averse to cover any band that even flirts with problematicism, I don’t have to worry about my ignorance of Chronophage’s individual members potentially allowing me to big up fascists. Maybe it’ll turn out they’re Maoists (an ideology MRR is less worried about) but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when/if we come to it. Anyway, I had never even heard of Chronophage (a small miracle unto itself considering the underground’s ready access to publicists and music writers- such as myself- who love few things more than being the first to “discover” a band.). But, even while my sense of aural adventure is a bit rusty since the days of having to risk $8.99 on albums based solely on cover art and/or vibes in the air, I just knew Prolog for Tomorrow was going to scratch an itch. Maybe not an immediate itch but, when you keep as many itches on file as I do, you can afford to trust your instincts. Especially when those instincts have already been validated by some punk weirdo in Oakland who’s probably still mad at the Go-Go’s for firing Margot Olavarria fifteen years before they were born. My instincts served me well because that hypothetical punk weirdo was right! (About both things.)

I’m not sure how to describe Chronophage. I’m not a major fan of the comparisons, to Swell Maps or the Messthetics comps, that the punks made. I don’t dislike either point of reference but knowing Chronophage supposedly sounds like both doesn’t affect how I hear the band. Prolog for Tomorrow’s inner sleeve art has “Curse of Chronophage” scrawled, which may be a reference to The Curse of The Mekons. Or maybe not. I’m trying not to project my bullshit on the band. Matter of fact, Chronophage don’t sound anything like the honky-tonkin’-Mekons. Not because Chronophage aren’t honkys tonkin’ but because, historically speaking, American bands aren’t as hung up on sounding American as English bands are. The album art for Prolog is reminiscent of much of the (actually) cut and (actually) pasted Pavementisms of the ‘90s, which in turn was lifted directly from The Fall and all that band’s adherents. Like early Pavement and The Fall, Chronophage are full of hooks, some overt and many buried under transient skronk. But, unlike all the obscurist indie Chronophage shares a typewriter with, the basic template on the album, if there’s one at all, is “folk punk.” I suppose? At least the sense of that genre is present, if dependent on an expansive notion of both “folk” and “punk.” Minus any busking grotesqueries in the “Wagon Wheel” vein, there’s the strum and twang of barely distorted guitars, every string visible in the mind’s eye, maybe in need of tuning or maybe just playing those jazz chords I hear so much about at music critic parties. While only three musicians play on Prolog, horns and keys go in and out of the songs like a C Squat marching band showing up to support the potluck. Adding to the offhand spontaneity of the proceedings, there’s intermittent cowpoke yowlings, some very live sounding drums, and at least one poetry reading. There’s a real anarchist house party vibe but just when it feels like Chronophage are going to lose their train of thought or, worse, ask to borrow the touring band’s kick drum pedal, another fragile and plaintive power pop chorus arrives in time to keep me from retreating to the kitchen to bum beer off strangers.

If we’re going to (re)subscribe to my initial thesis that there are certain sounds made by certain bands that provide a messily alluring alternative to the pat and disingenuous cleanliness of overculture, therefore making a prickly honesty worth striving for (even if that striving lends itself to either self delusion or a romanticizing of failure), then Chronophage are what we’re talking about. Even if on their new album, The Pig Kiss’d (out on November 23), they kind of fuck a significant amount of my thesis over by showing that they do, in fact, know what they’re doing. Whatever. I deserve it. The whole mythology around The Mekons as a band finding dignity in the face of drunken ineptitude was a fib. While not having the chops of The Texas Playboys, and certainly often drunk, The Mekons, by the mid-’80s, were writing and performing songs as subtle and dynamic as any non-boring rock and roll, not to mention post-punk, band could aspire to. Because perfection is so oppressive, its absence will always be its own inherent virtue. But even better than not being able to play your instruments is being able to play them real pretty, but throwing some ugly in anyway. Just to show all the aesthetic bible thumpers that heaven isn’t always the hot shit it purports to be.

The Pig Kiss’d is a sharper, more streamlined, proposition than Chronophages’s first record. The guitars, thankfully still mainly free of any distortion mush, ring out as cohesive riffs. Even while the lite-funk chunka-chunkas still occasionally approximate Desperate Bicycles covering Steely Dan (an under-appreciated subculture band influence… a lot of people don’t know that Big Black’s name was short for “Big Black Cow”), and the snare underpinning gives them a decidedly peace punk punchiness, the riffs now transform into razor-like, no wave leads instead of the decays into noise (or just silence) prevalent on Prolog. While the previous album positioned voices as hesitant souls in conversation, Chronophage’s dual singing is now consistently commanding. Not to say that either Allen or Beames are preoccupied with auditioning for American Idle anytime soon, but they both have cool, heavy-on-personality punk voices, ranging from conversating chill to accusatory growl, which the mix now accentuates. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t miss the feeling of a sinking ship, barely kept afloat by the bodies of oogles under the hull, but I’m also glad for a recording that doesn’t sound like the studio engineer is holding a personal grudge against the drummer. Of course, in no longer sounding a mess, Chronophage runs the risk of just sounding like, you know, a rock band. Of which there are plenty. Luckily this ain’t the case. The desperate, weird energy of Prolog for Tomorrow is still abundant. It’s just put in the service of songcraft more than ADD-infused mood. If there’s a newfound, almost psych, expansiveness in the songwriting, it’s a psych fueled by strychnine over any slouching towards bliss. And when the songwriting contracts, we get instant classics like the album closer, “Name Story,” which could be an undiscovered New Model Army a-side. So much does “Name Story” sound like a lost hit that I had to write the band and ask if it was a cover. (They responded that the aim was to sound like New Order… which is amazing.) Still, by contemporary indie standards, Chronophage sound like countrified First Wave of Black Metal-ers running through the American songbook. By contemporary post-punk standards, which can be applied now that New Order are on the table, Chronophage don’t sound contemporary at all. They sound out of the timeline; Richard Lloyd skipping post-punk entirely to jump headfirst into college rock, making that nerd rock hip, and vice versa. Lightning striking itself. In the face. Repeatedly. And by folk punk standards, if we’re bothering to still apply it, Chronophage continue to sound like the only true freaks in a field of future beer reps.Like I said, I don’t know much about Chronophage. While writing this, I exchanged emails with Parker but, preferring the mystery, I only asked about pronouns and whatnot. Maybe they’re apolitical. Maybe they are Maoists. Maybe they’re neither but still find my chronic naysaying abhorrent and dull. For all I know, they all campaigned hard for Pete Buttigieg and all the proceeds from The Pig Kiss’d are going towards having Chronophage Brand hostile architecture benches placed near the homeless encampments in Austin. Guess we won’t know for sure till the album comes out. But this feels like opposition music, and, more importantly (to me) it feels like music that speaks to a refusal to simply be grateful for the crumbs handed to us. Nit picking, as it were. If not exactly “dignity in the face of drunken ineptitude” then, in the face of endless war and empire and an oligarchal insistence to smile more, Chronophage make a sound that- equal parts sweet fury and sweaty sweetness and spilling over with a feisty, chaotic grace- approaches dignity. If the next few years are great, then great. We can play Chronophage at the cookout we’re all invited to. And if the next four years are instead a happy faced atrocity exhibition, at best a grinding exercise in defending cops, creeps, and landlords for the sole reason of the other side’s cops and creeps and landlords being so much worse? Then Chronophage’s sound will prove to be the kind of correct that’s too sloppy to be smug. Even under austerity, the anarcho-freak punx got bops. So even as COVID, the ice caps, or capital’s poptimist truncheon bear down on us, threatening to tickles our little chins, let us, at least, enjoy this thing.

https://zacharylipez.substack.com/p/notes-on-the-mekons-chronophage-and

* The cassette version of Th’Pig’Kiss’d Album will be available soon on Cool Marriage. Check this blog for updates.

#chronophage #chronophageband

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born2battle · 4 years ago

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Experiences in High Altitude Area ---- Joshimath Sector

Soon after the conclusion of the Surrender Ceremony, we received urgent instructions from Gen S H F J Manekshaw, the COAS specifying that the POWs must be treated in accordance with the Geneva Conventions of 1949.These were amplified in terms of specific guidelines to be implemented at all levels.It was emphasised that the status of the Pakistan Army which had surrendered had now changed from Enemy to POWs. All Units & Formations were assigned their new responsibilities for various PW Camps. Consequently, our Regiment was given the task for PW Camp of Pakistan Artillery Brigade in Rangpur. Next day, we began the process of taking charge of their guns & equipment, ammunition, vehicles, stocks of rations & fuel and other military hardware.In addition, the accounting & protection of the prisoners was also our main responsibility.

Meanwhile, the euphoria of our magnificent victory as a result of the blitzkreig joint operations continued in all the Units.Our Regiment began the celebrations by conducting a Havan in the Unit Mandir. It was an act of obeisance which acted as a spiritual chord among the troops. This was followed by special Sainik Sammelan addressed by the Commanding Officer.This event held on a monthly basis provided the opportunity for the jawans to raise any issue of concern and put across their suggestions to the Battery Commanders & the Commanding Officer.It also enabled monthly review of tasks & allotment of subsequent tasks / introduction of new welfare measures.Sainik Sammelan concept has proved to be a useful method of interaction, motivation and effective man management.In this special Sainik Sammelan, our CO complimented each and every member of the Jat Balwan parivar for his dedication in achieving the ultimate mission, in an exemplary manner.He also announced the promotions and gave awards for top performers of each Trade, during the last three months.The same day, we organised an entertainment programme & Bara Khana for the whole Regiment.The programme had dance,drama & popular Ragini session put up by our talented artists.This was another method of informal interaction and team bonding within the JATs. I personally learnt quite a lot about man management from all the three events on this special day of celebrations.Besides, I felt delighted to be baptised in War & accepted with open arms, by my new Fauji family.

Next day, our CO held a conference of all Officers & JCOs and instructed us to prepare a summary of events in the last two months, as also the lessons learnt at each stage.These would be essential for compilation of War Diary for Regimental History.Thereafter, we were grouped into smaller teams to recapitulate each event & record the critical aspects. Our Team of all the GPOs and the JCOs at the Gun End summarised the following key learnings: ----------

Speedy deployment and ammunition supply proved crucial.

Fire plans had to be modified based on the situation.

Accurate fire support was the critical battle winning factor.

Team work was most important ingredient for success.

Leaders accomplished their mission by setting the example.

Simultaneously, we completed all the maintenance tasks pertaining to our Guns,Vehicles,Communication equipment and other stores.All of us also got the chance to refresh and rejuvenate, after one month of intense operations. In the last week of Dec, our CO received his posting order, as expected after two years of Command.He was regarded as a Father figure by all of us & was given an emotional farewell on 15 Jan 1972. Thereafter,we were intimated the plans for move of the POWs to PW Camps to be established in India.This movement was to be organised by trains from different stations in Bangladesh to several destinations in India.Our Regiment was responsible to provide the escort and protection till the departure of the prisoners who were in our PW Camp.This task was completed meticulously by the end of the month.

Thereafter, the Regiment de-inducted and reached our peace location at Binnaguri.We began the process of settling down in our accommodation which had been locked down for almost four months.Maintenance of the Office buildings, Living barracks,Cook houses, MT & Gun sheds, Ammunition dump, Quarter Guard and the Officers Mess had to be completed on priority.PT and Games also commenced simultaneously.In mid Feb, we were surprised to receive the Move Order for the Regiment to move to Joshimath in Garhwal region & concentrate at Raiwala ( nearest Railway Station ) by 30 Apr.The instructions also specified that we will be equipped with a new equipment produced indigenously ----- 75/24 Pack Howitzers for which a Conversion training will be organised at Raiwala.

I was curious to learn about the entire process of move of the Regiment. The Officiating CO organised the Regiment into three parties ;--- the Advance party, the Main body & the Rear party. Each party was explained the outline plan & allotted the tasks to be done at the new location.Requisition was placed for Special trains for move to Raiwala.The Advance party led by a Battery Commander, with representatives of each Battery, left by mid March, since they had to be acclimatised at Joshimath, before taking charge at further locations in high altitude areas.The Main Body boarded the Special train which was placed at the railway siding on 15 Apr. Interestingly, the composition of the Train was customised to include passenger coaches,military kitchens, covered wagons & open rakes.The Regiment was given a farewell Bara Khana by other Artillery Regiments in Binnaguri , just before the departure. It took us seven days to reach Raiwala, after a memorable journey, interspersed with planned halts for every meal (meals were prepared by our cooks in the military kitchen).

At Raiwala, we set up a tented Camp in an area suitable for Conversion training.The Guns & the Instructors in Gunnery had been assembled from various Units holding 75/24 Pack Howitzers. An intense capsule of two weeks was conducted, both during day & night, before we proceeded for practice firing in Asan Ranges near Dehradun. On return, we got ready to move immediately to Joshimath.This movement was along a mountainous road and the convoy time was about 12 hours.At Joshimath, we were received by our Advance Party who briefed us about the process of acclimatisation. We spent two weeks at Joshimath itself, when we were given comprehensive briefings, at the Brigade HQ, about our operational role at the LAC (Line of Actual Control), deployment areas & terrain briefs. We were also explained about special aspects of defensive operations in high altitude areas ( over 10,000 ft ) which we would further practice in conjunction with affiliated Infantry Battalions. Snow clothing & equipment was also issued to all personnel. Next day, each Battery moved to its allocated deployment area located on a different axis, while the Regiment HQ remained in Joshimath , adjacent to the Mountain Brigade HQ.I was inter-posted from Romeo Battery to Papa Battery,to give me the opportunity to acquaint myself with the jawans of another sub-unit within the Regiment.This proved beneficial in the long run.

Lt Col R P Chadha joined the Jat Balwan family & took over as the new Commanding Officer on 13 Jul 1972. He carried out familiarisation visits to all the Battery locations and was impressed with the state of operational preparedness.He exhorted all of us to face the challenges of terrain, climate & enemy resolutely.We were also advised to complete the winter stocking, in proper bunkers in each gun position, latest by end Sep.On 01 Aug, we celebrated our Raising Day in respective locations, at an altitude of 10,000 ft !! It was yet another memorable experience.

Thereafter, we attended collective training with the Gurkha Battalion for a duration of one month. All of us noticed the traits and behaviour pattern of the Gurkhas, well known for their bravery historically. I really liked their genial nature and their persistence while accomplishing any task.The Khukri was their special possession & martial arts was a favourite pastime.At the end of training, they invited us for their Bara Khana celebrations, when we observed some of their rituals .On completion of collective training, I requested for Annual Leave since I had not gone home ever since reporting in the Regiment one year ago. My CO sanctioned my leave for a duration of 45 days so that I could report back before the beginning of snowfall.This time, I proceeded to Aurangabad where my father was transferred recently.

I returned after well deserved leave & reported to the Adjutant at Joshimath. I had to undergo acclimatisation again before moving to my Battery location.I was thrilled to see the snow covered peaks in the Himalayas for the first time. The ambient temperature had dropped to minus 5 degrees Centigrade already.Some of the roads/tracks were covered with snow but our Gun pits were still clear of snow.The winter stocking had been completed as per the SOP. A Helipad had been constructed in close vicinity of our Gun position, to enable evacuation of casualties in case of any emergency. We used this helipad for a grand celebration of Diwali, in first week of Nov.I was told that every festival was celebrated in the Balwan family jointly ---- in a Home away from Home!! As expected,the intensity of snowfall increased in Dec/Jan and the temperature plunged to minus 20 degrees Centigrade, due to the wind-chill factor.We took extra precautions to maintain our fitness during these extreme conditions ---- wearing of winter clothing,use of Bukharis/ kerosene heaters, snow clearance around the bunkers, regular jogging & games such as Volleyball & Basketball, snow skating etc.We improvised the process of obtaining water by melting the snow in diesel barrels.This water was then used for cooking,washing & bathing purposes. The electric supply was provided by the generator but was restricted only to the CP, living bunkers and cook house. There were several occasions when the road movement was disrupted due to land slides, which had to be cleared by the Border Road Organisation. Air drop of supplies had to be resorted in some remote areas.The situation improved only in Apr, when Badrinath shrine opened after a closure of nearly six months. I availed the opportunity to visit the Temple before the rush of pilgrims.Incidentally, Badrinath was just 45 kms from Joshimath.

On 12 Jun, I got a call from the Adjutant asking me to report urgently at Regiment HQ next morning. I thought about the possible tasks which may be assigned to me but could not guess any likely task at this short notice. I left my Battery location at the sunrise, so as to reach Joshimath in time.I reported to the Adjutant who took me to the TIGER immediately. I was ordered to Take Post & the CO gave me a total surprise by putting on the rank of a Captain on my uniform.This was the first step on the ladder, on completion of two years of service on 13 Jun 1973.Every promotion is important but the very first promotion had greater significance!! Later in the evening, I hosted the promotion party in the Officers Mess.Next day, I gave a separate party to all the jawans of my Battery.

In the last week of Sep,, I was detailed to attend Regimental Signal Officers Course & had to report at MCTE,Mhow on 25 Oct.The short notice was a challenge since I did not have much time for pre- course training,which would have provided a good start during the Course. However, I put in extra efforts to grasp all technical aspects taught as per the curriculum & finally attained Alpha grading. I returned to Joshimath after two months, with renewed confidence and was appointed the Signal Officer responsible for all communication aspects.This implied that I would be posted as the RSO in the Regiment HQ and remain at Joshimath .We celebrated the New Year eve around the camp fire & resolved to further improve our professional standards in 1974.

In Mar, my CO detailed me for leading a Trekking expedition to Hemkund Sahib, located at an altitude of 4600 metres. The Trek had a total of 30 jawans , with representatives from all the sub- units. The Trek commenced from our Regiment HQ & had a brief halt at Govind Ghat. The next part was trekking upto the Base Camp at Ghangaria, which was 14 km away.Then ,we had a night halt & began the steep climb of 6 km upto the Gurudwara. It was an exhilarating experience to be cherished as as we paid our respects at this famous shrine. By next day, we were back at Joshimath, full of Josh & lovely memories.

Thereafter, we participated in local training exercises in Apr/ May, in our respective locations. We left for Dehradun in first week of Jun, for Annual Practice Camp including practice firing which was conducted in Asan Ranges .This activity has tremendous importance in the Regiment of Artillery and is a final test of all training in the Training Year.The Regiment returned to its operational locations by mid Jul. We celebrated yet another Raising Day, in our traditional style on 01 Aug. Soon thereafter, we received the move order for the move of the Regiment back to Binnaguri ----- much to our surprise, since we had moved to Joshimath from the same location two years ago!! Move was to be completed by 30 Sep 1974.By coincidence, our CO also received his posting order at the same time.He was given a farewell by each Battery due to dispersed deployment & a final emotional send off from Joshimath on 07 Sep 1974.

#indian army #joshimath #fauji #fauji life

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dfroza · 3 years ago

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An act of grace paved the way for the rebirth of the heart

and this includes the promise of the body being reborn, and earth as well at some point.

in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament Letter of Galatians Paul illuminates the significance of what grace has done:

Fourteen years later, I returned to Jerusalem, this time with Barnabas and Titus, my coworkers. God gave me a clear revelation to go and confer with the other apostles concerning the message of grace I was preaching to the gentiles. I spoke privately with those who were viewed as senior leaders of the church, wanting to make certain that my labor and ministry for the Messiah had not been based on a false understanding of the gospel.

Even though Titus was a Syrian, they accepted him as a brother without demanding that he first be circumcised. I met with them privately because false “brothers” had been secretly smuggled into church meetings. They were sent to spy on the wonderful freedom that we have in Jesus Christ. Their agenda was to bring us back into the bondage of religion. But you must know that we did not submit to their religious shackles, not even for a moment, so that we might keep the truth of the gospel of grace unadulterated for you.

Even those most influential among the brothers were not able to add anything to my message. Who they are before men makes no difference to me, for God is not impressed by their reputations. So they recognized that I was entrusted with taking the gospel to the gentiles just as Peter was entrusted with taking it to the Jews. For the same God who empowered Peter’s apostolic ministry to the Jews also flowed through me as an apostle to those who are gentiles.

When they all recognized this grace operating in my ministry, those who were recognized as influential pillars in the church—Jacob, Peter, and John—extended to Barnabas and me the warmth of Christian fellowship and honored my calling to minister to the gentiles, even as they were to go to the Jews. They simply requested one thing of me: that I would remember the poor and needy, which was the burden I was already carrying in my heart.

When Peter visited Antioch, he caused the believers to stumble over his behavior, so I confronted him to his face. He enjoyed eating with the gentile believers who didn’t keep the Jewish customs—up until the time Jacob’s Jewish friends arrived from Jerusalem. When he saw them, he withdrew from his gentile friends—fearing how it would look to them if he ate with gentile believers.

And so, because of Peter’s hypocrisy, many other Jewish believers followed suit, refusing to eat with gentile believers. Even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocritical behavior!

So when I realized they were acting inconsistently with the revelation of the gospel, I confronted Peter in front of everyone:

“You were born a Jew, but you’ve chosen to disregard Jewish regulations and live like a gentile. Why then do you force gentiles to conform to these same rules?”

Although we’re Jews by birth and not gentile “sinners,” we know that no one receives God’s perfect righteousness as a reward for keeping the law, but only by the faith of Jesus, the Messiah! His faithfulness has saved us, and we have received God’s perfect righteousness. Now we know that God accepts no one by the keeping of religious laws!

If we are those who desire to be righteous through our union with the Anointed One, does that mean our Messiah condones sin even though we acknowledge that we are sinners? How absurd! For if I start over and reconstruct the old religious system that I had torn down with the message of grace, I would appear to be a lawbreaker.

For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God.

My old identity has been co-crucified with Christ and no longer lives. And now the essence of this new life is no longer mine, for the Anointed One lives his life through me—we live in union as one! My new life is empowered by the faith of the Son of God who loves me so much that he gave himself for me, dispensing his life into mine!

So that is why I don’t view God’s grace as something peripheral. For if keeping the law could release God’s righteousness to us, then Christ would have died for nothing.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2 (The Passion Translation)

to be accompanied by these lines about preserving the truth of grace:

Some people who were pretending to be our brothers and sisters were brought in to spy on the freedom we enjoy in the Anointed One, Jesus—their agenda was clear: they wanted to enslave us. But we didn’t give in to them. We didn’t entertain their thoughts for a minute! We resisted them so the true gospel—and not some counterfeit—would continue to be available to you.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2:4-5 (The Voice)

Their ulterior motive was to reduce us to their brand of servitude. We didn’t give them the time of day. We were determined to preserve the truth of the Message for you.

The Letter of Galatians, Chapter 2:5 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 66th and closing chapter of the book (scroll) of Isaiah that points to a time of rebirth but also severe Judgment upon God’s enemies:

Eternal One: Heaven is My throne, and earth is where I rest My feet.

So what kind of structure would you build Me?

What man-made space could provide Me a resting place?

Everything is the product of My hand—My being and My doing—

that’s how all you see came to be; I made it all.

Nevertheless, I am interested in and concerned about even just one person

who is humble and downhearted and trembles at my word.

Eternal One: Whoever slaughters an ox without humility is no better

than one who kills a man;

Whoever sacrifices a lamb without brokenness is no different

than one who breaks a dog’s neck;

Whoever presents a grain offering without fear is no different

than one who offers pig’s blood;

Whoever burns incense without obedience is no better

than one who worships an idol.

They’ve made their own choices

and seem happy enough with their detestable practices.

But I have a choice, too, and I choose to punish them;

I will bring on them what they fear most.

For when I called, no one answered;

when I spoke, they refused to listen.

Instead they did all the wrong things and made terrible choices—

what I expressly said that I hate.

So, if you are one who trembles at His word,

listen closely to what the Eternal One has to say:

Eternal One: I know that some people, even your own family,

reject you because you accept Me,

And they’re saying, “Let the Eternal receive the honor He deserves,

so that we, too, can know your joy.” But they’ll only know sorrow and shame.

Can you hear it? There’s a commotion in the city,

great rumbling coming from the temple area!

Ah, it is the Eternal thundering in to take on His foes.

Have you ever heard of a woman who gave birth before she went into labor?

Have you ever seen a woman who delivered a son without feeling a thing?

Do you think it’s possible for the land to go through labor in an instant,

or to bear a nation, to be new and strong, in a single day?

Nevertheless, Zion suffered only a moment

before she gave birth to her children!

Will I open the womb and not deliver?

I have made this place labor in terrible pain,

But do you think I won’t help it give birth?

That is what I, the Eternal One have to say.

Eternal One: So be happy for Jerusalem;

give her hearty congratulations, whoever holds her dear.

Take part in this joyous celebration, especially if you remember her grief.

For you are her children, and she is giving you the milk of comfort and peace.

Drink at her comforting breasts with satisfaction that all will be well.

I will rain down prosperity on Jerusalem, peace abundant on Zion,

and flood her with wealth from all over the world.

Like a thundering river, the riches will come down.

Like a toddler, you’ll be held, carried, nourished, and comforted.

As a mother soothes her child, so I will comfort you.

And Jerusalem will be so nice, feel so good and safe to you.

When you see what I have in store, it will ease your mind and lift your heart;

you will flourish like the grass!

The Eternal’s power will be clearly evident to His servants;

but His rage will be unleashed against His enemies.

Look now, the Eternal is coming with a vengeance

that scorches all His foes with flames of fire;

Whooshing like a whirlwind, His chariots rush with punishing fury.

God comes with fiery anger and flashing sword.

The Eternal One will execute His judgment,

And many people will die on that day.

Eternal One: Those who perform sanctifying and purifying rituals to serve false gods in gardens, and then proceed to do whatever they see the leader do—eating impure things such as pigs, snakes, and rats—won’t live to do it again. This is My word to you.

Because I know what and why they do what they do, the time is coming when I will bring people together from all over the world. Everyone will come here and have a chance to see and know who I am, in all My weighty significance and splendor. I will put a sign among them and send the survivors of My people to Tarshish, Put, and Lud (where those great archers live), from Tubal east of Lud, and Javan, which is near it. I’ll bring them here from places so far away that they’ve never heard My name, much less had a chance to see My glory. But they’ll hear about Me, far and wide among the nations. And they will bring the surviving members of your family back as if they are a grain offering from all the nations. They’ll come by every conceivable means—on horse, camel, donkey, or mule, in wagons or litters—they’ll come to Jerusalem, My holy mountain. They will be delivered just as the Israelites bring their grain offerings to Me in a clean container at the temple. And out of those who return, I will make priests and Levites. This is My word to you.

Because just as the new heavens and the new earth that I am making

will go on by My enduring will,

So your name and the people

who come from you will go on as well.

From one month to the next, on Sabbath after Sabbath,

everyone, every living thing, will come to this holy place

To honor Me as God of all.

This is My word to you.

They’ll visit the site where the people who rejected Me lie rotting on the ground,

crawling with worms that never die on a fire that just keeps smoldering.

All who see it will recoil at the horrible sight.

The Book (Scroll) of Isaiah, Chapter 66 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, August 13 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that answers a question mark (?) about God’s name:

I sometimes get email from people confused about the "real" name of God. Is it Yahweh? Jehovah? Yahoshua? or perhaps something else? Is "Jesus" a pagan name that comes from "Zeus"? and so on... Sadly there is a lot of nonsense taught about the name of the LORD floating around out there, often by people who dabble in Hebrew and believe they have gained some esoteric wisdom.... Such false teachers promote some "secret" way to pronounce the name of God, as if it were a "shibboleth" or password to access his presence, and consequently they focus on the superficial rather than the substance. Those who are wise, on the other hand, search for the deeper significance and what must be spiritually discerned.

We must remember that the most common name of God given in the Hebrew Scriptures is "YHVH" (יהוה) which is clearly wordplay on the verb "hayah" (היה), meaning "to be" (Exod. 3:14-15). I have written about this many times before, and there are several articles on the Hebrew for Christians website that deal with this issue decisively, but for this short post let me simply remind you that God's name YHVH is "ineffable" and mysterious, a word that cannot be defined, because a definition requires that the "definiens" (i.e., the group of words that define something) to be equivalent to the "definiens" (i.e., the word or term to be defined). The Scriptures teach, however, that the LORD is unrivaled, matchless, without peer, and utterly unique (Exod. 15:11; Psalm 89:6; Psalm 113:5-6). There is categorically nothing in the likeness of finite reality to whom the LORD can be likened: No amount of words can fully explain who He is, the depths of His character, or the power of His life (Psalm 147:5). Moreover - and as alluded by the verbal wordplay on the name YHVH (i.e.,אהיה אשׁר אהיה) - it is a category mistake to think of YHVH as a "noun" or "thing" rather than as a "verb" or power... He is the "Living God" (אל־חי), alive, powerful, and the Source of all that exists. Therefore if God is to be known by us, we must look to the historical revelation of His creative and saving acts: "You have magnified Your word above all Your name" (Psalm 138:2), which means that God's fame and glory constitutes the very meaning of His Name.

There are hundreds of names and titles of God in the Scriptures, each revealing something about the attributes and character of the LORD, and each therefore worthy of study and appreciation. Ultimately, however, God is disclosed in the person of Yeshua, who embodies and gives expression to the very life and character of the divine. The advent of the Savior (מושׁיע) reveals the meaning of who God is. Indeed it is written in these "last days" God speaks to us "in Son" (ἐλάλησεν ἡμῖν ἐν υἱῷ), that is, by means of the revelation and language of Yeshua, who is "the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature (χαρακτὴρ τῆς ὑποστάσεως αὐτοῦ); Yeshua is the one who "upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:2-3). "For by Him (Yeshua) all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities-- all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things," καὶ τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν- "and in him all things hold together" (Col. 1:16-17; John 1:3). Yeshua is the "Name above all names" (ὄνομα τὸ ὑπὲρ πᾶν ὄνομα) the One before whom every knee shall bow and every tongue confess to be the LORD of Glory over all (Isa. 45:23; Phil. 2:9-10). His Name is Wonderful (פֶּלֶא), the Mighty God (אֵל גִּבּוֹר), the Everlasting Father (אֲבִיעַד), and the Prince of Peace (Isa. 9:6). "His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is ‘The Word of God’" (Rev. 19:12-13).

It is interesting to note that though the ancient Greek language was capable of transliterating the Hebrew name YHVH, it was never done, not in the the Septuagint (i.e., the most ancient Greek translation of the Torah), nor in any of the manuscripts of the ancient Greek New Testament, where the name “ho thos” (ὁ θεὸς) was used in place of YHVH (יהוה). We have no textual evidence that Yeshua ever used this Name (he apparently followed the practice of using the circumlocution of "Adonai"), though he did explicitly refer to Himself as none other than "ehyeh," the great I AM (see John 8:58). But Yeshua’s most common name for God was simply “Father” (πατήρ in Greek, אֲבִי or אַבָּא in Hebrew).

Knowing the Name of the LORD means being in a personal, vital, and all-important relationship with the truth. The Holy Spirit is called the Spirit of Truth (רוּחַ הָאֱמֶת). This means understanding God’s character as "merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin" (see Exod. 34:6-7). Since the Hebrew idea of “word” (דָּבָר) is coextensive with truth (i.e., “being”), Yeshua is called the Word of God (דְּבַר אֱלהִים) who represents the Name of God to all who trust in Him (John 17:26, Heb. 1:3). Jesus (Yeshua) is the Name of God, the “life” of God, the “substance” of God, the “exact imprint and representation of His nature,” and so on. Do not be deceived, chaverim: those who impugn the name of our Lord Yeshua thereby profane the very name of God. [Hebrew for Christians]

8.12.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

August 13, 2021

The Righteous Judge

“The LORD is righteous in all his ways, and holy in all his works.” (Psalm 145:17)

When Abraham was interceding with God to spare Sodom if even 10 “righteous” people were there, he asked: “Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?” (Genesis 18:25). The Hebrew word (mishpat) refers to a formal judgment about right and wrong and is more commonly translated “judgment.”

Indeed, the divine Judge will do right and give right judgments in all things, for He “is righteous in all his ways” and “canst not look on iniquity” (Habakkuk 1:13).

Ever since Adam disobeyed the Word of God, however, all his descendants have been unrighteous in their ways. God’s righteous judgment has been that “there is none righteous, no, not one” (Romans 3:10).

Thus, a truly righteous Judge would not only have to consign Sodom to destructive “brimstone and fire from the LORD” (Genesis 19:24) but every one of us as well “into the lake of fire” (Revelation 20:15) forever.

But God, being not only the righteous Judge but also “a faithful Creator” (1 Peter 4:19), had a plan whereby He could “declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past” and both “be just, and the justifier” of those who had been lost sinners (Romans 3:25-26). “God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh” (8:3). Those who believe on the Son of God as their substitute and Savior are now “justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (3:24).

So, Christ has been “made unto us...righteousness” (1 Corinthians 1:30). Furthermore, our loving Savior has now Himself become our righteous Judge, for “the Father...hath committed all judgment unto the Son” (John 5:22). HMM

A tweet by illumiNations:

@IlluminationsBT: Today, we're highlighting a Bible portion from Papua New Guinea. This language is spoken in 8 Gamei and Boroi villages in Yawar Rural LLG, Bogia District, Madang Province.

Do you know what language this is? Comment below with your guesses.

8.13.21 • 12:01pm • Twitter

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architectnews · 4 years ago

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Westminster Hall Restoration, London

Westminster Hall, London Historic Building, Westminster Building Renovation, English Architecture Images

Westminster Hall Restoration in London

14 Jan 2020

Westminster Hall Restoration

Renovations: Perfect Circle and SCAPE

Location: Westminster, London, England, UK

After vital restoration works, the iconic Grade 1 listed Westminster Hall – the oldest part of the Palace of Westminster – has been returned to its full glory so it can be appreciated for decades to come. Works to clean the hall’s 14th century hammer-beam roof internally; carry out essential repairs to the roof timber trusses; repair and restore the lead-covered roof lantern; install fire safety equipment, including an automated fire detection and voice alarm system; and install all cabling infrastructure for a future lighting scheme have now been completed.

Built environment consultancy Pick Everard – operating under Perfect Circle’s unique collaboration – provided project management services for the scheme, which was accelerated by SCAPE Consultancy, a direct award framework that drives collaboration, efficiency, time and cost savings.

Gary Buick, director at Pick Everard, which is one of Perfect Circle’s shareholders and founding partners, said: “Westminster Hall is a key thoroughfare to the Palace of Westminster and used by hundreds of people daily. Over the past few years, restoration and maintenance works have been carried out to ensure the hall remains safe for public use.

“The roof lantern atop the hall has been carefully dismantled and restored using traditional craftsmanship. Hidden since 2005, the ornate timber interior of the lantern can be seen once more.

“Not only can the public experience Westminster Hall in its original glory, but the beams and lantern shouldn’t require further conservation work for another hundred or so years, providing a lasting legacy for generations to come.”

The hall – which is deemed to be the gateway to the Palace of Westminster, a UNESCO World Heritage Site – was originally built in 1097 by King William II and later remodelled to include the magnificent hammer-beam roof by Richard II in 1393. It is the only part of the palace that survives in almost its original form, despite being ravaged by a fire in October 1834 and damaged by an incendiary bomb during the Second World War.

The uses of the hall have included great state occasions, tournaments, coronation feasts, state trials and even a marketplace. Notable historical events include the trials of William Wallace and Charles I and, in more recent years, ceremonial addresses by the Queen, Nelson Mandela and Barack Obama. Today, it continues to be used as the venue for lying-in-state royals, as well as a raft of events and public displays.

After the hall was bombed in the war, the roof lantern that sits atop the roof was rebuilt in the 1950s. In 2005, a temporary crash deck was installed to ensure the structure was safe, but which obscured the view of the lantern – limiting public appreciation for more than a decade.

Gary said: “As the roof lantern is a timber structure with lead cladding, cast lead detailing and internal timber panels, its restoration required a lot of specialist carpentry works. For health and safety purposes, we couldn’t put any additional weight on the roof so a complex, self-supporting scaffold bridge was constructed so work could be carried out.

“It was of great importance that the lantern remained true to its roots, so the original sand-cast lead was removed, melted down and re-cast using the same traditional method that was applied when it was made in the 1950s.

“Now the repair and restoration of the lantern is complete, the temporary crash deck has been removed, which has once again opened up its true magnificence to all walking through the hall.”

Westminster Hall’s grand roof, which was commissioned by Richard II in 1393, is the largest medieval timber roof in Northern Europe. It is home to 13 oak hammer-beams, weighing some 660 tonnes, that were largely manufactured off site and transported to Westminster by barges and horse-drawn wagons for assembly.

Gary said: “When essential repairs and cleaning were being carried out on the roof, 360 litres of dust was removed from each roof truss. A fully automated fire detection and voice-activated alarm system was also installed as part of the works. The equipment has been obscured from view – remaining sympathetic to the traditional design but updating the technology to suit modern standards and safety requirements.”

Part of the project’s vision was for Westminster Hall to remain open to the public throughout the construction works, subject to closures as a result of the coronavirus pandemic.

“One of the biggest challenges was to maintain health and safety and the operational requirements of the hall so the public wasn’t inconvenienced by the works,” said Gary.

“This involved installing large vinyl canvases that included photos of the windows before the temporary, complex scaffolding was put up. Not only did these cover up the supporting framework but, as lots of tourists visit the hall, it meant they could still experience the oldest parts of Westminster rather than seeing a construction site. “A lot of the work was also undertaken out of hours during evenings and weekends so as not to disrupt the sitting of the House of Lords and House of Commons.”

SCAPE Consultancy is fully OJEU-compliant procurement route that brings together the strongest collaborative team with value for money, while contributing substantially to local social value.

Victoria Brambini, managing director of Perfect Circle, said: “We are delighted to have been involved in such a prestigious project to restore certain elements of one of Britain’s most iconic buildings, which has played a central role in our country’s history.”

Mark Robinson, SCAPE chief executive, added: “After almost a millennium of service, it takes extreme diligence, skill and care to give a building like Westminster Hall the restoration it deserves. The expert guidance and consultation that Perfect Circle has provided to support this high-quality project is befitting of this unique building that contains volumes of British history.

“The refurbishment of the public estate, including that at the very highest end of government, will play an important role in enabling the nation’s economic recovery. This project is an outstanding example of how it can be accelerated through the use of a framework that promotes collaboration and a collective effort to deliver outstanding project results.”

About Perfect Circle: Perfect Circle is a property, construction and infrastructure consultancy, delivering real value with full procurement compliance, for clients commissioning any aspect of their built environment projects.

Its vision is to be at the forefront of innovation, pioneering new ways of working to deliver collaborative and efficient solutions nationwide across the public sector; making a difference to clients, local communities, its employees and supply chain partners.

The company is jointly owned by Pick Everard, Gleeds and AECOM – leading, innovative firms with expert industry knowledge and expertise, supported by an extensive local supply chain.

Perfect Circle delivers the broadest range of consultancy services available to the public sector via SCAPE, the UK’s leading public sector procurement authority, and SCAPE Consultancy, a direct award framework that drives collaboration, efficiency, time and cost savings.

About SCAPE: SCAPE is the UK’s leading public sector procurement authority, dedicated to creating spaces, places and experiences that leave a sustainable legacy within the community.

Since 2006, SCAPE has accelerated over 12,000 projects across the UK with their direct award frameworks, property services and innovative architectural designs.

Working with SCAPE is all about partnership, bringing together the brightest talent from the construction industry and the local economy. SCAPE projects are collaborative, compliant and fully performance managed to ensure delivery efficiency, tax-payer value, targeted local economic enrichment and offer a direct response to the climate emergency.

SCAPE operates with a buying power of £13bn and is actively performance managing over 1,800 live projects. SCAPE is a member of the National Construction Frameworks (NACF) and in 2020, was name in ‘The Sunday Times Top 100 Best Not-For-Profit Organisations to work for’ in the UK.

Westminster Hall Restoration, London images / information received 140121

Location: Westminster, West London, England, UK

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sable-longclaw-blog · 8 years ago

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Campfire Confessions - Part One

Ebony hair hung in loose and carefree curls over her shoulder as Sable peered carefully at a set of old dark leather saddle bags within the local Leather-working shoppe in Stormwind. She always had her golden eyed gaze on a vest too, one that matched the bags in particular.

Her best friend, Kathreine had recently purchased a motorbike and Sable wanted to give her something special, especially after all the shit the pale performer had been through lately.

At the last minute that morning at breakfast, the two women had made plans to ride down into Westfall and camp together, needing a bit of time to themselves to talk a few things out and just flat out be girls for a night without the influence of Stormwind City's excited night life.

And honestly, after what Davius had told her the night before, the ebony skinned assassin needed a breather. She loved him so dearly, but she needed this time with Kathreine to help her sort out her fears and doubts about the situation - and this overnight outdoor slumber party of two would be just perfect for that...

--Below is the Roleplay collaboration done with @kathreine, between Sable and her! Thanks twinner for making that RP so awesome! NSFW: Obscene Language, Mentions of abuse, murder, and sex below. [[ Edited for aesthetical purposes for the reader]]--

Sable soon found herself knelt down towards a fire in the middle of Dagger Hills. Her eyes gazed into it as she stoked it just a bit with a stick. She looked up as Kathreine arrived just in behind her, eyeing over the woman's new bike again, "I gotta say, Kat.. Shit suits you up an' down." She laughed out softly shaking her head. She then rose to her feet, moving over towards her own bike and opening up the left saddle bag, its sleek black leather with fringes and silver studs glittering a bit in the low firelight. The assassin then pulled out something of nearly equal size, wrapped up in flat black paper with a simple bow around it. She went to the other side and pulled out another of the same thing. She grinned lightly as she offered them out to Kat. Once her friend opened them, there would be two brand new saddle bags, ready for use along with the straps that would attach them to Kat's bike. They were a deep brown, crackling leather - distressed on purpose with fringes on them as well. The buckle that held them closed held the sad/happy theatre masks upon them with glimmering ruby eyes. "Figure you'd get some use outta these. Saw 'em an' knew you had to fuckin' have 'em. Hope you like 'em, sister." Sable beamed to beam with pride as she handed over those loosely wrapped bags, as if inducting Kathreine into some secret club only they were apart of.

The slightly taller, pale and raven haired woman that was Kat, lifted her leg up and over the back fender as she stepped off the bike and gave the kickstand a swift tap with her boot, pulling it down. She steadied the bike, making sure the kickstand wouldn't sink into the dirt and quirked a brow at Sable, "Yea, I was thinkin that too. Been thinking it since I saw it. It's kinda complicated lookin', and looks like it's been through a long process if bad choices and mad genius." She chuckled faintly, eyeing over her new motorbike with adamant pride. "The paint's not even finished in places, but damn thing runs smooth and fast." She glanced over to Sable, watching her pull items out of her saddle bags, furrowing her brow. Her eyes widen when she lays eyes on the deep brown saddle bags as her slender digits began to unwrap them. "Godsdammit B! You said a present, but I wasn't expectin' something this nice!" She quickly rushed over and hugged her friend. "Thanks, B..." She tittered out with a lot of sisterly affection in those two syllables. After a moment, she let go of Sable and gestured to the bike. "Wanna help me put em on? I've never had my own bike before." She chuckled and smiled to the faces on the bags. "These must've costed a lot, B... Ya really didn't have to... but I love them, I really do. Those eyes..."

The dark skinned killer shrugged a bit in nonchalance, her expression mirthful and at ease. Laughing out, she moved over, taking one of the bags and kneeling towards the back of the bike. She settled the straps around the place jutting out just for that, latching them tight, "Don't worry 'bout the cost, Kat.. You deserve 'em." She smiled over her shoulder at the woman, making sure for a moment that the other was watching her carefully. "Now.. see how I did that? It ain't hard.. How 'bout you try an' put on the other one, hm?" Sable lofted a brow at the woman, standing up and adjusting her leather vest. "Oh.. one more damn thing." Her voice rang out again in sudden remembrance, frowning mildly at herself as she nearly had forgotten the most important gift.

She moved over to her bike again, dipping her hands down into her saddlebag, fishing around. She procured a box this time, holding it out for Kat to open. When Kat got the box open, there'd be a vest, identical to Sable's in many ways, but the same color as her new bags. On its back was embroidered those same masks in very detailed and colorful threads. "Can't be ridin' wit'outcha cut." The dark woman snickered out, beaming brightly towards her friend. "Don't even -ask- me how much all this costs, a'ight? It ain't a damn problem."

The aerialist watched as Sable attached the bag, cocking her head to the side like a damn dog. She hummed out, "Guess so, just been a bad fucking last couple of weeks, but I'm not a pansy bitch. I'll get passed all this, I think." She laughed, wondering if she really was actually going to survive as she claimed, though she -did- manage to add the bag to her bike.

"So--" She stood up, pausing her words as Sable went back to her bike and turned back around with a box and eyed it as she held it out. The black haired woman gingerly took the box and made her way to sit by the fire, "Alright, B... I know I've had a shit time with men and all over the last couple of years, but I'll get--" She hushed once she saw what was inside the box and slowly pulled out the vest. Her eyes teared up a bit and she quickly sniffled her nose and snuffed the emotions out, "This is gorgeous, B... and.. Well, okay. I won't but, I don't feel right takin' all this."

She gingerly spoke those words, but also while putting it on. "This is about as fancy as some of my costumes, B. You really got me pegged!" She chuckled out and exhaled a long sigh, "I brought some food in my pack, if you're hungry. Brought some chocolate bars and taffy, too. This taffy is some of the best shit I've ever had." She tried changing the subject a bit, away from the obvious troubles she's been having.

Sable laughed out softly, shaking her head, "Nah, I ain't hungry jus' yet. I ate a good dinner with Davius before you an' I decided to roll down here, but you go 'head if you hungry." She kicked back a bit of a distance away from the fire, stretching her legs out and crossing them over each other. Her palms rested on the ground and her eyes stared at the sky a moment, it seeming to literally glitter with stars. "An' you ain't getting away that easy, bitch. I know some shit is botherin' you, darlin'. You needa tell me what's going on.. I wanna help you, ya know?" She relayed with deep sincerity in her voice and gaze as her eyes turned towards Kathreine.

The performer was Sable's first ever -real- friend.. not someone she had to be fake to, someone she could actually get close to without fear of having to kill them, or cut them loose once the attachment was made. And, she couldn't even say that much about Davius... having no idea what the Uncrowned would make her do, or just do themselves if they found out her connection to him. "Its more'n just shit luck with men tha's got you down, baby girl. I ain't fuckin' stupid." The assassin remarked confidently, and with genuity that she never showed anyone but Kat and Davius. She reached up a leather gloved hand, her fingers free and gave Kat a light shove of her shoulder in a lovingly friendly manner. "So c'mon.. lets spill."

Kathreine folded her legs, crisscrossed and placed her hands in her lap, "It fits perfect, thanks for this." She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to the fire, "I'll hold off on dinner since that breakfast we had this morning." She brought a hand to rub the back of her head and then decided to remove her gloves as she spoke. Her eyes were downcast, and so many things swirled through her head, she wondered if she could even gather them all up correctly enough to even begin to tell Sable what was bothering her, but she was surely going to try. "Well, since leavin the faire I've kinda been on my own really. I mean, I live on the Ludlow estate in my wagon and Lady Ludlow said I could stay as long as I want. I don't even have to pay anything as long as I keep up the grounds around camp." She shrugged slightly, "Guess it's kinda like my own place, really. It's just kinda empty."

Her troubled gaze looked to Sable as she set her gloves aside, "I'm used to being around lots of folks and it's too fucking quiet in my little corner, sometimes." She chewed at her bottom lip in thought for a moment, then turned her gaze back to the fire.

youtube

"I was married to a gorgeous man once." Kathreine continued with a slight bit of hesitation. "He was beautiful inside and out, until he lost both of his brothers. Something just kind of snapped, I guess." She gave a mild shrug of her shoulders, continuing on with her tale. "He got real possessive over me and got violent when I tried to distance myself due to the black eyes he'd leave on my face from time to time."

Her speaking ceased a minute and a hand raised to quickly brush away a tear, before it had a chance to be seen. "I felt forced to marry him, was really scared he'd kill me if I didn't." She looked to Sable, giving brief pause in her words to make sure she was either still listening, or following along with her words. She was simply desperate to get this shit off her heart and her mind. "Met another man that was sweet to me during the whole ordeal. He found me near beat to death when I tried leaving my husband. He nursed me back to health and he got killed for doing it... so well, B... I killed my husband." She felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, "I loved him so much, B... Just, who he was and what we were before things got bad, really."

She cleared her throat and wiped her face again. She was lightly sobbing by this time, and the performer's lips and words quivered just a bit as she spoke them so deeply. "He would've killed me had I not killed him first, I just know it. Just two that can't live with or without each other, I guess." She narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze to Sable, seeking understanding from her friend. She had no idea what the other woman actually -was- or did in her working and spare time. She didn't realize or expect the understanding she was going to get once her story was done. "I wasn't gonna be the one to die over it though, either." Her expression relaxed some after she loosed those few words into the air. "He was nearly twice my age. Not sure what it is about older men, but it's obvious I'm attracted to them, but with that comes lots of fucking baggage too. Not like I can't handle it, but it's gettin’ me hurt."

The raven haired murderess listened silently to Kat's story, nodding her head along with pursed and thoughtful lips. She sighed outward as a tilt of her head was given, the fire flickering a bit in her turmeric hued gaze, making it appear the irises were fire themselves. She gave long and hard thought to what she was about to speak on, weighing her options of revealing her secrets to Kathreine as if her life and other's lives depended on it. Her mind was in a storm and this resulted in her remaining silent for a bit when Kat finished, mulling over everything in her mind before she spoke. "You ain't alone in those things, Kathreine." She stated firmly, but quietly. Her voice was distant as her memories began to flood her mind to a point of drowning her, but she didn't show an ounce of that. She couldn't, having to step outside of herself as she often did upon fateful nights when work -had- to get done. She, also, didn't look up at the woman, her heart hurting for her friend and the old wounds ripped open once more of her Braenen.

"I was -about- to be married one time, actually." Sable snorted out a soft and humorless laugh; a singular sound. No tears welled in her eyes as she told the story. For him and herself, she had cried them all out. "His name was Braenen, an' he was goddamn beautiful.." Her voice spoke out evenly, truly calm and composed - scarily so. "People I.. work for caught wind of me gettin' close with him.. An' mind you I was young - very young. Freshly eighteen.. and he was twenty two. Our jobs crossed an' he saw some shit I did that he wasn't suppose to. I was ordered to take him out." She began chewing the inside of her cheek, falling silent a bit. The memory of him catching her with that red bandanna around her neck, killing her soon to be father-in-law haunted her daily, and she could feel the ghosts of it piling in around her.

Her expression only hardened deeper then, shoving that shit down to a part of her she couldn't reach as she drew a knife then as she settled up right again. Shapely legs drew upwards and bent at the knee, though she didn't hug them. She only lay her arms over them, picking at her nails with her dagger. She knew she wasn't followed, so she opted to speak a bit more freely, "He came home one night, an' I was waitin' on him. He took me to the bedroom.. an' as soon as shit got heated.. I was on top of him and I shoved it right through his heart. I looked him in the eyes an' watched the cutting betrayal he experienced.. and the light leave him." She then looked over at Kathreine, her turmeric hued eyes full of undoubted pain and worry. "Scares me shitless about gettin' this close with Davius.. I can't do it again, Kat."

Kathreine sat just as silently as the woman before her did as she told her own story. Slowly she felt her troubles lighten as Sable began confessing her own plights. She turned her gaze away from Sable and stretched out just like her companion, leaning back with her hands in the dirt, crossing her legs with her boots bumping against one of the rocks of many that created a ring around the fire. The woman blinked her eyes a couple of times as she wasn't expecting to have much more than drinking and good company with the woman next to her. She turned her gaze to Sable as she finished, letting a bit of silence linger before she began to speak. "I didn't know this about you, B... but now that I do know it, this mean you're gonna put a dagger in my heart before the night is over?" She smirked with a wink, trying to make light of the heaviness that clouded around them at the moment like a vacuuming void.

"If you do, just let me get drunk first. I think I'm fairly ready to leave this world at any given time. I really just don't give a fuck what happens to me anymore." She shrugged, "You did what you had to do and so did I. I loved Aaren with all my heart, body, and soul... a part of me died when he took his last breath." She cleared her throat, trying to give her friend a little reassurance with her words, as they came from deeply within her heart. "Least D seems to not be a dumb fuck so maybe he'll stay out of the way." She chewed her bottom lip a minute as she hummed in thought. "I'm no killer and I don't really know what it is you do exactly, but rest assured I'll stay out of your way. Nobody really takes me too seriously anyway."

She smirked and laid back on the ground, "Just a clown to most folks. A clown that wants to make everyone's day, but as soon as the show is over the clown is left alone while everyone else goes on their merry way without another thought of the one that put the damn smile on their face to begin with."

Sable didn't smile, even at the light-heartedness of Kat's words. She just looked over at her with a peircing and serious expression, confessing her biggest secret without even second thought. Her full trust in the woman was on display, and she felt the stinging vulnerability of it. She did not let that stop her from speaking. This woman of all people deserved to know her, and really know her.. to an extent. Her eyes then stared into the campfire as she began to speak, the depth of her words adding more weight to the air, even as the wind blew lightly about them.

"I -am- a killer, Kathreine. I got more blood on my hands than most folks twice my age." The assassin then took a deep breath in, going back to picking at her nails a moment before she leaned back a bit. She tugged her pants down just enough to show the dip between her hip and stomach. Upon the skin was tattooed a small black and gray-wash crown, broken down its middle, two daggers pointing down towards it on either side. To most it would appear as just a tattoo that some biker bitch thought looked fancy, but to those who actually knew of its origins.. and what work Sable actually did.. Well to those people, depending on what side they stood on with her, it meant either their death, or their strongest ally. "You recognize that symbol, Kat?" She looked at her friend with an almost fear... fear of everything the woman could think about such a thing. She quickly pulled her pants back up though, settling her self into her prior position, her eyes in a hard gaze upon the fire. "I've done things, baby girl... That no damn body could even imagine. An' the whole fucked up thing about it. Is I enjoy it. I -enjoy- it." She reiterated on a shaking breath as if she just realized the true monster she was - though truly, she'd always known. "But no, you got nothin' to worry about." She assured quietly, as if she half expected to lose all trust from the woman, and that her words wouldn't be believed.

---TO BE CONTINUED--

@kathreine

@daviusblackstone for mentions

#Kat and Sable #BFFS #Ride or Die #I've got you #Camping #wraRP #Twinners

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biofunmy · 5 years ago

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Naked, Afraid and Transgender: ‘The Wilderness Couldn’t Care Less’

Editor’s note: Quince Mountain is the first openly transgender person to be on “Naked and Afraid,” Discovery’s reality TV show in which participants try to survive 21 days in the wilderness. His episode debuted this month.

I’m lying under an uneven canopy of foliage, sharp gravel digging into my back. I try not to think of the jungle rain as unceasing. I try to feel it, drop by drop. Sometimes a drop hits a spot where my skin is cut or burned away, and I feel a little thrill.

I am camped along the bank of the Corinto River, in a rain forest in Atlántida, Honduras, and have been for nine days. I’m alone: the partner I started this 21-day challenge with went home five days ago.

This is miserable, but I feel fortunate. Growing up knowing I was a boy when everyone around me considered me a girl — and not a very good one — already taught me how to survive alone. Being naked in this remote jungle is a relief. The wilderness couldn’t care less who I am.

I’ve always been a physical person, but team sports were fraught with gender problems since grade school. Over the years, I’ve discovered the joys of outdoor adventure, spending almost as much time with animals as with humans. First, I rode horses, traveling alongside a team and wagon and rounding up cows on ranches in western South Dakota. These days my wife and I spend our time living and camping with a team of dogs in Alaska, Canada and the upper Midwest.

It’s a big deal to be a trans person out in the public square who is able to act rather than simply being acted upon. In appearing on “Naked and Afraid,” I want to show what I can accomplish, without having to deal with people questioning my credentials. I want to show what trans people can accomplish. With new laws restricting access to bathrooms, locker rooms and shelters, physical attacks on trans people on the rise, according to advocacy groups, and federal legislation threatening safeguards for the transgender rights that do exist, I want to shout: “Just leave us alone!”

But first, I have to survive.

My possessions include a heavy survival knife; a magnesium bar and fire starter rod; a wedding band; some cord I made from twisted strings of plant fiber; a mosquito net with a few holes burned in it; several underripe tree nuts; and a hollowed out drinking gourd that’s rotting, but still usable.

I don’t have a compass, or clothes, or shoes, or anything to entertain myself with in the dark. If I had a smartphone I would probably be using it to play the puzzle game Two Dots, as I would if I were in line at Target.

When I told friends I was going on “Naked and Afraid,” they worried I’d be rendered a caricature. Isn’t reality television all about confining formulas? I told them it’s here, stripped down for this naked TV show, that I can be real. That my experience growing up as a trans person was the fictional performance.

I was raised to act as a person I was not. When I said I was a boy, or presented myself as one, I was told I was lying, that I was a girl. One of my deepest truths, my sense of self, is something I had to lie about.

It’s a tough bind. We are either betraying the truth by not being ourselves, or we dress and move through the world in ways that feel right, and then are told that we’re lying. The real truth, people insist, is hidden underneath our clothes.

Out here, there are no clothes, nor lies I have to live, and I’m as exposed as I can be.

A cameraman named Derek arrives at my shelter.

“Is this a bit like Chinese water torture, then?” he asks in his Scottish accent.

“Excuse me?”

“Would you describe this as torture — feeling cold rain fall through the roof of your shelter and knowing it could last all night?”

I like Derek. I tell him this is nothing like torture. Every second that I’m here, I’m choosing to be here.

“Good,” he says.

I fall asleep on my mosquito net atop my prickly gravel bed. An hour later I’m suddenly awake — biting ants!

The ants are coming from the chunk of wood I just put on the fire. When the wood got too hot, the ants made a break for the floor of my shelter. They were under attack and they began to bite me. I can’t blame them.

I have to get off the mosquito net, shake it out, and flick any ants off my body, all in the dark. This is annoying, but I’ve already developed a routine for it.

I’m getting used to the simplicity of suffering here. There is none of the nonsense I endured growing up at odds with gender norms.

No one here has knocked me to the pavement. No one is kneeling over me spraying shaving cream in my eyes. No one is riding away on my bicycle, off to dump it in the creek.

I am not in fourth grade, opening the door to a house that has been ransacked by a playmate who lives down the street. There’s no broken glass, no shattered record albums, no vomit left in my bedroom. There’s no mailbox and no note in that mailbox explaining why my family deserved to have our home trashed, explaining that I’m a “rotten boy-girl,” a “he-she,” an “it.”

For all the jungle’s indifference to my well-being, I am free from many quotidian worries. No one is telling me I’m too aggressive, bad for team cohesion. No one is asking for an ID card. No one is asking about my name. I’m naked, but no one cares about my junk. I am not thinking about bathroom stalls, and I’m not thinking about how to explain myself to employers, or distant family or anyone else.

Here, there is a knife. There is a fire, and there is a river. No one is in my way.

Sahred From Source link Arts

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itsworn · 6 years ago

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1968 Plymouth GTX: Old Friends

In the late 1950s, when he was a little boy, Ed Mohr often accompanied his mother to the local Gulf gas station where Mohr’s older brother, Steve, worked. Steve’s pal Bob Wagner also worked at the Gulf station and as Ed grew up he, Steve and Bob became the best of friends. Typical of the time period, the three young men were united by their obsession with muscle cars in general, and their love for a certain 1968 GTX in particular. “In late 1967,” Mohr explains, “my brother and I had a good laugh when Bob went shopping for a new station wagon for his young family and instead came home with a fire-breathing, bright blue 1968 Plymouth GTX.”

Though it obviously didn’t have the cargo or people-carrying capacity of a station wagon, Wagner’s GTX did have a lot going for it. First introduced in 1967, the GTX was designed to be a muscular, upmarket addition to Plymouth’s intermediate size family of vehicles. Along with its Road Runner stablemate and the pedestrian Belvedere upon which they were both based, the GTX got a pretty substantial face-lift for 1968. Changes to the GTX included a new hood with faux vents, new grille, and taillamp assemblies, double stripes running along both sides of the car between the wheels, and revised sheetmetal all around. All together the changes yielded a less boxy, more modern, sportier, and decisively more aggressive looking car.

In 1968, as in ’67, the standard engine in the GTX was Chrysler’s venerable 440 Magnum. It was rated at a very healthy 375 hp and 480 lb-ft of torque, and to the delight of anyone who has had the pleasure of driving a 440-powered Mopar, all of that muscle comes in a package that’s very easy to actually live with, even in a daily driver. With a single Carter four-barrel, moderate hydraulic lifter flat-tappet camshaft, and relatively modest 10.1:1 compression ratio it idled well, ran smooth, required very little maintenance, and was perfectly happy with premium pump fuel. Unlike other ultra-high performance engines of the era, including its more exotic 426 Hemi big brother, which was an available option in the GTX, the 440 made truly impressive power and torque from its sheer displacement rather than hard-to-live-with race-spec high compression, a wild and high-revving solid lifter cam, and multiple carburetors. Equally important, the 440’s power was available lower in the rpm range, making it friendlier for spirited street driving.

GTX came standard with Chrysler’s better transmissions, which were otherwise optional in the company’s other intermediate cars. GTX buyers could have either a 727 TorqueFlite automatic or four-speed manual at no additional cost.

In keeping with its positioning above Chrysler’s other intermediate offerings, the GTX had a noticeably nicer interior, with bright trim and simulated woodgrain appointments borrowed from the well-appointed Sport Satellite cockpit. The GTX also had fancy, embossed vinyl upholstery instead of the Belvedere’s and Road Runner’s plain-Jane seat covers and door panels.

All of these considerations helped convince Bob Wagner that a GTX was a better idea than the station wagon he set out to buy at Van Nuys Plymouth dealer Mashak Motors on that fateful day in October of 1967. He thoroughly enjoyed his purchase for the next six or so years, but reluctantly parked it in 1973, the year that OPEC nations cut production and raised prices for their oil. When the cost of gasoline in the United States rose a staggering 40 percent, to about 55 cents per gallon for regular, in the span of only a few months, fuel-guzzling big-block muscle cars quickly lost their luster for many people. Wagner replaced his GTX with, of all things, a Honda Civic. The Civic’s 71.6-cid, 54hp engine wasn’t nearly as much fun as the seven times larger and seven times more powerful 440 in his treasured GTX, but its fuel consumption was exponentially less, and with premium gas pushing 65 cents a gallon, who could argue with that logic?

Wagner’s GTX sat outside for the next 40 years, baking in the California sun. Though it was in need of just about everything, Ed was attracted to the car — in part because of its inherent beauty but also in large measure because of the memories it held for him. So he inquired whether Wagner would be interested in selling it. “For a period of time, I had been talking to Bob about buying the car,” he recalls, “and, after seeking my brother Steve’s advice and getting his commitment to join me in the rebuild, I made the purchase in the summer of 2014. The planets just seemed to align for this purchase, and the planned restoration as both my brother and I are now retired from lifelong careers in separate auto repair businesses, he in general mechanical repair and me in collision repair. And given that we are both lifelong friends with the original owner, and that we personally know the history of this car since it was purchased from Mashak Motors in Van Nuys, California October 7, 1967, we just had to have it.”

Though the Mohr brothers intended to do a complete nut-and-bolt rotisserie restoration, they decided to try and get the car running before taking it completely apart, just to make sure there were no serious problems with the engine, which hadn’t even been turned over in some 41 years. With very little effort, it was purring like a proverbial kitten, and immediately thereafter they took the engine and drivetrain out.

The 440 engine went to the Mohr’s old friend, Bill Maropulos of Bill Maropulos Racing Engines. Maropulos is a former NHRA Comp Eliminator standout and well-known engine expert who went through the 440 from top to bottom and completely rebuilt it to factory specifications.

After the engine and drivetrain were removed the Mohr brothers systematically disassembled the remainder of the car. “We did our best to label, organize, and store every piece,” Mohr recalls. “In spite of our best effort it later became clear how critical this process was when it came to reassembly.” When the very last bits were removed, the body went to the sand blaster, a choice that the Mohrs later regretted. “We should have used beads to blast it or had it dipped.”

After getting it back from the sand blaster, they went to work straightening out the body. “The body panels were pretty wavy and the left quarter-panel, which had been damaged back when the car was new, needed to be reworked,” explains Ed. “An interesting aside about that quarter-panel, as an 18-year-old apprentice back in 1968 Bob asked me to fix that quarter which I did, or at least I thought I did until I had to rework it! Fearing embarrassment now, I spent the better part of a month just on that quarter, pushing and pulling, picking and filing until I got it where I liked it. Ultimately, every panel was worked over to remove dings and dents and each skim coated and primed and blocked several times.”

Since this GTX was delivered new in California, it never had undercoating, which is generally a blessing for a car that’s lived its whole life in a dry, salt-free, area. But on the other hand, without undercoating it’s impossible to hide cosmetic flaws on the car’s underside. “To get the underside right,” recalls Mohr, “we mounted it on a rotisserie. It stayed on the rotisserie until the underside, trunk floor, passenger compartment and engine bay were all painted, allowing us to install new brake and fuel lines while the car was still upside down.”

The Mohrs were restoring the car in Ed’s spacious home workshop, which was very convenient, but one critical piece of equipment he didn’t have was a downdraft spray booth. To achieve the stunning finish this car deserved, they decided it had to be painted in a booth, which was a logistical challenge since the car was completely disassembled. “We decided it would be easier to get the car to and through the paint shop as a rolling chassis. We bolted the engine, transmission, and K-member all together and mounted it on a dolly. Having a lift at the house the whole assembly went up through the bottom, and in less than an hour it was all bolted in. Over the next few months, we installed the front and rear suspension and made a makeshift temporary steering shaft and wheel so we could steer it around, now off to the paint shop she went. To ensure that all the jambs and pillars looked factory, the deck lid, quarter extensions, doors, fenders, hood, and front panel had to be painted off the car. This created quite a challenge, not just in the logistics of getting the car and all the pieces to and from the paint shop without damaging anything but reassembly of all the painted sheetmetal parts was a major concern and was a particularly nerve-racking exercise. To try and minimize the risk of scratching during this process prior to painting, while still in primer, all the sheetmetal was installed, adjusted for fit and the locations marked, and then removed for painting. In the end, gingerly, carefully, with a lot of help from Steve and Bob, it all went back together without a scratch.”

Over the ensuing year, the Mohrs painstakingly reassembled the entire car with a combination of new and restored original parts. Of the latter, a particular drip molding turned out to be the most challenging. “We straightened, sanded, and polished all of the stainless drip moldings and reveal moldings,” explains Mohr, “and it all went well except for one incident. While polishing a drip molding, I lost control of it and the buffer grabbed it, tied it in a knot, and shot it across the shop. I learned a lot about how far you can go with damaged stainless steel moldings after that as my pride would not let me just throw it away so, to my delight, over the next three days I managed to fix it like new, and it’s now mounted on the car.”

When they encountered difficulties with buying reproduction parts, the Mohrs went the extra distance to restore their original parts. “The grille frame and headlight doors are anodized aluminum and were on back-order forever. Step-by-step we took the old ones apart and sanded off the anodizing by hand with 80-grit, and with progressively finer sandpaper and polish got them looking beautiful. Countless hours were spent in this stage of final assembly making sure everything was as close to how it was when it left the factory. Once we received the new seat covers, headliner, and carpet, we sent it out to the upholstery shop. After a week of worrying about it she came back looking gorgeous, and we could now finish up all the little details yet remaining. The last items on order were the Magnum 500 wheels and the redline Goodyears. While waiting on those we finished the trunk carpet, spare tire, jack, and hold down. After four years, it didn’t dawn on me that we were actually done, completely out of things to do, until my brother held up the spare tire hold down J-bolt and while pointing at it with a funny look on his face and he said, ‘this is it, this is the last piece. We are done!’”

As often happens, finishing the restoration was bittersweet. Despite some difficulties it was, overall, a very enjoyable experience for Mohr, largely because of the memories and emotions attached to his GTX. “To say this car is special to us is an understatement,” he reflects. “It’s not just because of the history, but what this project, on this particular car, has done for me and my family and friends. Everybody wanted to help and to see the progress we made, thus giving them a reason to visit more often. My wife, Elizabeth, joined in handling paper work and keeping us all fed on work days. It gave my brother and I a compelling reason to get together much more than we otherwise would have, and on many occasions, Bob would come over to lend a hand. We are looking for another suitable car now to restore but we know for us there will never be another car like our ’68 GTX!”

1968 Plymouth GTX Ed Mohr, Camarillo, California

ENGINE Type: 440-cid, 375 hp at 4,600 rpm, 480 lb-ft torque at 3,200 rpm Bore x stroke: 4.32 (bore) x 3.75 (stroke) Block: Stock 1968 440-cid V-8 iron block Rotating assembly: original forged steel crankshaft, externally balanced, with 2.750” main journals and 2.380-inch rod journals, iron connecting rods, and forged aluminum pistons Compression: 10.1:1 Cylinder heads: stock cylinder heads, cast-iron Camshaft: stock camshaft, intake: .450-inch lift, 268-degrees duration; exhaust: .458-inch lift, 284-degrees duration. 46-degrees overlap Valvetrain: pushrod-operated overhead valves, 16 valves, 16 conventional hydraulic lifters Induction: Single Carter AVS-4637S four-barrel carburetor Oiling system: stock, full pressure, externally driven mechanical oil pump, 5-quart capacity Exhaust: stock dual exhaust, cast iron manifolds, 2.5-inch pipes Ignition: stock, 12-volt, transistorized coil, one spark plug per cylinder Cooling: stock, mechanically driven water pump, copper-brass radiator, 17.0-quart capacity

DRIVETRAIN Transmission: stock TorqueFlite 727 three-speed automatic Gear ratios (overall): First 2.45:1 (7.91:1), Second 1.45:1 (4.68:1), Third 1.0:1 (4.10:1) Converter: stock Shifter: stock slapstick Driveshaft: stock Axles: stock semi-floating axles Rear end: Dana 60 limited-slip differential, four-pinion hypoid; Sure-Grip limited-slip; 4.10:1 gear ratio

CHASSIS Construction: welded steel unit-body Front suspension: independent, unequal length upper and lower control arms with torsion bars, hydraulic tube shock absorbers Rear suspension: Hotchkis type, asymmetrical leaf springs, hydraulic tube shock absorbers Steering: stock recirculating ball with hydraulic power assist and fixed displacement hydraulic power steering pump, 15.7:1 ratio, 3.5 turns lock-to-lock, 40.8-foot turning circle Front brakes: stock, 11.04-inch disc with single-piston caliper Rear brakes: stock, 11.0×2.5 drum

WHEELS & TIRES Wheels: 15×7 (front) and 15×8 (rear) Magnum 500 chrome-plated steel Tires: G60-15 Goodyear Polyglas GT

WEIGHTS & MEASURES Wheelbase: 116 inches Overall length: 202.7 inches Overall width: 76.6 inches Overall height: 53.1 inches Front track: 59.5 inches Rear track: 59.2 inches Shipping weight: 3,520 pounds

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nailtravels · 6 years ago

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They stared at the news reports all week and tuned in to NOAA satellite footage for Hurricane Michael updates. It had been true for years, but now these people could honestly say they were in the cone of uncertainty. The category 2 storm had just left the Caribbean and was gaining strength as it plowed north through the Gulf of Mexico, heading straight to the Big Bend area of Florida and Suwannee Roots Revival at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. Ask Dog Island and Cedar Key what it’s like when a hurricane smashes into the beaches in this part of the world. Ask Mama Lila’s guesthouse on Fort Morgan beach. When hurricane force winds lift the water up and out of its basin, things disappear. Maybe not the best place to ride out a hurricane. With folks from Tallahassee evacuated all the way to Fort Myers, what kind of derainged animals would drive straight toward the storm to go camping in the woods at a music festival? A rare breed, to be sure and it certainly boggles the mind.

It was a family reunion in every sense of the word. Friends made at Suwannee Music Park are as strong as the bonds of kin folk and tend to last for years. As time passes, the family membership continues to swell to the point where there are no strangers in the park. Welcome to Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: Feeder Band Family Reunion

Oteil and Friends, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

000 WTNT34 KNHC 082041 TCPAT4 BULLETIN Hurricane Michael Advisory Number 9 NWS National Hurricane Center Miami FL AL142018 400 PM CDT Mon Oct 08 2018 …MICHAEL BRINGING HURRICANE-FORCE WINDS AND HEAVY RAINFALL TO WESTERN CUBA… …STORM SURGE AND HURRICANE WARNINGS ISSUED FOR THE NORTHEASTERN GULF COAST…

A Hurricane Warning has been issued for the Gulf Coast of Florida from the Alabama/Florida border eastward to Suwannee River.

Folks like Moonshine Gary and Shannon traveled east on I-10, navigating fallen trees on the interstate with emergency vehicles close behind them. Others drove straight through the eye of the storm, headed for Live Oak. The group that met up Tuesday night, set up camp in the woods and waited together for the worst of the storm. By that time it had strengthened to a category 4 and it was anyone’s guess what was going to happen if the storm landed near Live Oak. As it would turn out, the hurricane turned left as the night went on and smashed into Panama City. Other than a few, light sprinkles, the park and party crowd remained untouched. The rest of the weekend showcased weather so perfect it could only be Suwannee Roots Revival.

Once again, the Kamp Happiness relaxation installation served as a commons area for this year’s family reunion. Friends made at Suwannee Music Park can be as stout as any kin folk and as the years pass, festival friends end up at each other’s weddings and funerals. They came all the way from South Carolina, Virginia, Georgia and all parts Florida. They brought their vans, trucks and recreation vehicles and surrounded each other like a wagon train. The RV crowd hooked up by the bat house, giving everyone a reason to occasionally visit the farm field. Thank you Peanut for the purple butterfly and the mad skins.

Thugish behavior to be sure, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Keller Williams’ PettyGrass Featuring The HillBenders, Suwanee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Royal, Josh and Smiteesha

Tim looking sharp, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Leftover Salmon, Suwannee Roots Revival: photo by Jason Nail

Little Steve, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Oteil and Friends, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Josh cooking Sunday breakfast, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Kamp Happiness, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Moonpie and Sunshine enjoying some time, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018:

Cierra and Shannon, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Dirt bath, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

New at Suwannee Roots Revival:

Roots Welcomes Darth Waffle: The newest member of the Suwannee Roots Revival media team hit the dirt running and covered the entire festival from withers to brisket. Katie Walthall could be seen dragging her camera to and fro, backstage and yonder, catching great photographs of the performers and festivarians. A media pass will only get you so far. For some places, it takes a lanyard and a great pair of legs. Check out the beautiful writing and photographs on her website and like her social media outlets on Facebook and Instagram.

Waffle and Splenda, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Dead Cat Pleasure Palace Hours of Operation: Since MagnoliaFest 2002, the Dead Cat Pleasure Palace has been providing a “sense of place” for festivarians everywhere and most certainly at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. It’s open-air relaxation station serves as a perfect place to enjoy a cuddle puddle next to the roaring campfire. For years this commons area has effectively served the needs of festival participants while also meeting the needs of Kamp Happiness personel when it comes to the much needed and deserved rest that comes after a day of intensly passionate sillineszs. Up until this year, everyone’s consideration and personal responsibility had been appreciated, but due to this year’s repeated incidents and a few bad apples, new guidelines have been enacted. Imagine the scenario; It’s 5:30 am and you’ve finished playing bluegrass music at Slopprygrass. Your head hurts and your fingers are cracked and tired. It’s all you can do to drag your dirty, bare feet back to your own campsite. As you get ready to crawl into your tent for a few, scant hours of rest, you notice a form sleeping under the covers, in the darkness. Who could this be? You came here by yourself and playing “hard to want” has worked out predictably poorly. But this could certainly be preceived as some kind of overt message. perhaps a seriously flirty advance by a desperate, unknown caller. It would be stranger than fiction. Only after inspecting closer and finding the dirty, bare feet were probably size 11 and belonged to a young Auburn graduate who had drank too many shots of warm crotch whiskey. Precious he was, all bundled up in great grandmother’s quilts. With a cool front, pushed in by the storm, it was going to be a chilly night and no one needs to catch a sniffle. There’s always tomorrow night.

Ask your mom if all cops are racist.

Hey bitch, get out of my tent. Lady, you’re fine right where you are. Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jill Wickham The next night would prove to be no better. A lovely causasian couple found their way into the palace toward the close of the night, in hopes of finding some Wifi and complete some photo editing discuised as soft-core pornography. They would close out the evening popping each other’s chigger bites and again, fall into a blissful slumber in a hotel whose blinking neon sign clearly read, “No Vacancy”. Check our website and social media sites for updates, but until further notice, the Pleasure Palace hours of operation are from nine until nine. Thank you, in advance, for your consideration.

Free Range Strange: The brightest and best in bluegrass and hippy-funk wasn’t always playing on the main stage. Tim, Sunnie Rae and Chase from Free Range Strange took a break from their busy Florida touring schedule to visit the jam circles of Roots Revival. Thanks to all who participated in sharing a beautiful noise, especially Sunnie Rae, who helped make everyone look a little better. Both Tim and Chase were lovely additions to nearly every bluegrass circle, and other than a few scattered instances loosely labeled as “moral terpitude”, confusion and tweakish behavior was unusually scant.

Roadtrip Mojo: After several festivals, we finally hooked up with Jeff from RoadTrip Mojo. Through Spring, Wannee and Lockn’, it was time to band with our new brothers in the Florida social media intereweb. Check out their website and get in on one of their sweet camping giveaways. If the statute of limitations has, indeed passed, there promises to be more foot-stomping fun at Hulaween in just a few days. Eeeek.

These flowers are just one of the reasons Kamp Happiness installation has been so successful, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Personal Fires: Don’t get all heady just because someone in your camp wants to have a personal fire. Sometimes things can get a little intense around the group fire and it’s a pleasure to back into your own space while your head unwraps itself. Unfortunately, in this case, a new Hawaiian shirt from Eddie W. caught fire from a candle in the Dab Den and filled the room with carcinogenic rayon gas before emergency services arrived. Considering the levels of responsibility usually associated with the Dead Cat Society, the reason for this incident has been traced back to Beth’s Million Dollar Bacon.

Samantha Fish, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Suwannee is for lovers: Congratulations to Zane and Dr. Jen who got engaged at this year’s party. Be wary single festivarians. Music weekends in the woods are great places to meet crazy hippy chicks and before you know it, you’re proposing during Keller’s Bluegrass Gospel Church. It’s about as dangerous at a gondola at Telluride.

Kamp Happiness and friends, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018:

Where’s TooMuch?: For the fifth year, the folks at Kamp Happiness were good enough to let us dangle in their camp and share in their fellowship and music. Their blinking art installation served as a musical campsite and meeting spot for many of the Suwannee regulars. String music could be heard flowing from the camp all hours of the day or night. Morning versions of “New Dehli Train” set the stage for greatness into late night jams as the Kamp Happiness Family Band somehow managed to hold togerther a lengthy set of bluegrass classics in four-part harmony. Kamp Happiness VIP award winner for 2018 was Thomas Gerard Larose, who managed to entertain the troops with his morning Deadhead lounge piano stylings and prepare homemade barbecue tempe in spite of his recently debilitating hot tub injury. Thanks to Peter, Darth Waffle and Moonpie for assisting with the loading and unloading of his production equipment. Who knew one could use a handicap trailer to sneak contraband booze into the venue? if you’re self medicated and attempt a swan dive into a hot tub, you may well end up braking your shell. Especially when the bones are so old as to render modern, carbon dating equipment virtually useless. After a certain passage of time, one’s bones become brittle and maintain the structural integrity of burnt paper.

Leftover Salmon playing Dr. John, Suwannee Roots Revival: photo by Jason Nail

Let Oteil Sing: Roots welcomed Bassist Oteil Burbridge and his Oteil & Friends project featuring guitarists John Kadlecik and Scott Metzger, multi-instrumentalits Jason Crosby, drummer Jay Lane, percussionist Weedie Braimah and vocalist Alfreda Gerald. They tore up Thursday night with their unique sound and set the tempo for a long night of music and laughter.

Oteil and Friends, Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: photo by Jason Nail

Golf carts: Thanks to Kendall, Ted, Cameron and Kent for keeping the golf carts rotating timely and efficiently throughout the park. It can be a long haul from the bat house to the Loop and it’s nice to catch a lift, especially with some hillbilly driving while blind. From now on, local officials have mandated that remote breathalyzers be attached to the ignition systems of every golf cart in the park. These protective measures were put in place after Kendall drove his golf cart off the metal bridge into the Suwannee River. As time passes, his memory shall never fade.

Some go for the music. The rock and roll jams on stage, Leftover Salmon and all the late night pickin’ circles one can stomach. Some come for the sauce. The handles of warm crotch whiskey and double IPAs along with one of the best combos of the festival, sangria and Aderol. Have no illusions dear heart, these are worthwhile pursuits, but the last real reason to see this and most other festivals is the family. Goofballs and slack jawed rednecks from the contiguous U.S., all heading to the same place, in spite of the hurricane west wind.

As always, thanks to Erin Scholze at Dreamspider Publicity and Events for letting nailtravels and Kamp Happiness be small cogs in the larger machine of beautiful fellowship and fun. Best job ever.

So take a nap and a shower. Get those feet clean and wash the smoke out of those clothes. Hulaween is next week and it will be another round of finest and brightest anywhere. Look for the South Florida charter of Kamp Happiness next to the Poncho Tree and Luke’s Lake. Live

Suwannee Roots Revival 2018: Feeder Band Family Reunion They stared at the news reports all week and tuned in to NOAA satellite footage for Hurricane Michael updates.

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samanthasroberts · 6 years ago

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4 Straight-Up Lies Movies Tell Teens About High School

When you’re about to enter the hormone-fueled thunderdome that is high school, there are very few things that can act as your guide. You’re far too cool to listen to anything that your parents or teachers have to say about the issue, so most of your guidance comes from the coked-up Sherpa known as pop culture. Sadly, you usually have to graduate before you learn that movies are full of filthy lies. For example …

Getting Drunk Will Make You So Popular

Screenwriters use a messed-up version of the transitive property to get from “Popular kids drink” to “Drinking must make you cool!” Cooly is definitely one of the seven dwarves of drinking, but so are Pukey, Sleepy, Angry, Sad-y, Horny, and Doc. Doc is when you have to go to the doctor because you decided to jump on a trampoline while you were drunk. You never know which dwarf you’re getting, but only one of them makes people like you. The rest always do the opposite.

Yet teen movies seem to have this idea that if you’re a nerd, it’s only because you aren’t drunk enough. The best example of this is in Can’t Hardly Wait. Nerdy Will gets drunk for the first time ever, and suddenly becomes so goddamn cool that a group of his peers actually applaud him for interrupting their party to lip sync “Paradise City” while wearing a tan polo shirt.

I feel like I can very objectively say that nothing he’s doing is cool, despite the fact that he is portrayed as Bacchus, god of wine, revelry, and late ’90s fashion trends.

You can see the same transformation on a smaller scale in Paper Towns, when geeky Ben gets drunk and ends up doing a keg stand while a bunch of jocks cheer him on. He then makes a giant sword out of beer cans and knights his friend.

20th Century Fox

20th Century FoxHoly shit, alcohol is awesome! I should drink it every day for the rest of my life!

Absolutely no one gives him an atomic wedgie for this, despite that being the scientifically accurate way to end the scene. Movies haven’t exactly figured out that you don’t get to be prom king after ten seconds of light intoxicated interaction with the football team.

In 10 Things I Hate About You, America’s cool older sister Julia Stiles gets drunk and dances on a table. It’s admittedly a pretty damn cool dance, but everyone is supposed to hate and fear her, and they’re suddenly just like “Sure, I’ll move my beer so you can cha-cha slide or whatever.” Alcohol can do some magical things for people, but it’s not popularity juice.

Touchstone PicturesPoor Heath Ledger’s nervously eyeing for an exit into a less cliched scene.

A Live Band Will Play At Your School Dances

Maybe I’m the only person who’s angry about this, but I grew up assuming live bands played at all school dances all the time. Imagine my disappointment when I found out that my school just had a DJ, and his name was Principal Owens, and we eventually replaced him with an iPod. I can’t decide if that’s more or less cool.

I then assumed that if I went to a larger school, I would get the high school dance experience I deserved. Imagine my surprise when I started dating a guy who went to a school with 2,000 students and no live band to infuse their events with the proper amount of pop culture relevancy. What gives? There are so many live bands in teen movies that The Donnas, an early 2000s all-female punk band, is featured in two of them: Drive Me Crazy …

20th Century Fox

… and Jawbreaker.

TriStar Pictures

Although they go by the name The Electrocutes in Drive Me Crazy. Keep that in mind the next time you attend a trivia night hosted by Melissa Joan Hart.

And it’s not just school dances that go whole hog and pay for live music in teen movies. Matt Damon gives the least-convincing lip-syncing performance I’ve ever seen as the frontman of a fictional punk band that plays at a house party in the beginning of the movie Eurotrip.

Which calls into question: What house parties are these screenwriters going to? And what transcendent bands are they seeing there? Whenever I go, it’s just a dude with a guitar secretly hoping that people will sing along when he starts to play “Wagon Wheel.”

Even the Yule Ball in Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire has a full band, and that universe has magic and shit! They could just magic all the instruments to play, but nope, Harry Potter needs to have his Obligatory Teen Movie Moment, so Hogwarts went out of its way to find a hip band that just plays songs about what it’s like to go to fucking Hogwarts.

They cut the scene in which Ron gets wasted on butterbeer and lip syncs “Fuck Tha Police.”

Teachers Are Obsessed With Their Students’ Personal Lives

I have so many friends who are teachers, and let me tell you, they are just counting down the hours until they can go home and take their pants off like the rest of us. They want to be accessible and helpful to their students, but they don’t obsess over them the way teachers in the movies do.

For instance, they wouldn’t go to a student’s super illegal drag race and cheer them on like the shop teacher does in Grease. She shouldn’t be there! (Side note: I love her character. A female shop teacher who wears pearls and fancy earrings with her jumpsuit? Nice, Grease!) But as nifty as Mrs. Murdock is, drag racing is a crime, and she should probably refrain from helping her students prepare to commit that crime real good and then cheering them on while they do it.

Then you’ve got the insane Mr. Rooney in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, who leaves school and spends the entire day trying to catching a single student in a lie. There were a lot of other students in that school, man.

Paramount Pictures“I HAVE TENURE; I CAN STALK ANYONE I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”

And I’m not even sure what a dean of students specifically does, but taking an entire day to obsess over one teenager has to be leaving some paperwork not-done. Unless he’s actually been spending the whole day filling out form 236-C, and it requires you to break into a student’s home to complete it?

In the end of Fast Time At Ridgemont High, the history teacher shows up at Sean Penn’s house to angrily force knowledge down his throat right before a school dance. Let me think of all the times a teacher has shown up at my house when I was in school. This may come as a shock to you, but never. Not once. No teacher, no matter how ceaselessly inspirational they were, has ever gone to my house unannounced to ensure that I was schooling harder. I don’t mean to diss the education system, but I don’t think most teachers are that dedicated.

Universal Pictures

Universal PicturesEven people who are paid millions of dollars avoid hanging out with Sean Penn unless absolutely required to.

The Popular Kids Are Doomed To Lead Crappy Adult Lives

Every teen movie with an epilogue uses it to give a good dig at the popular jerks’ bleak future. Mike Damone gets caught scalping tickets and ends up working at a 7-11 in Fast Times At Ridgemont High. We’re told Mike Dexter (a lot of assholes are named Mike, apparently) becomes an alcoholic who washes cars after the events of Can’t Hardly Wait. Biff from Back To The Future … also winds up washing cars for a living? Screenwriters must see this as the ultimate punishment.

Universal Pictures“Hey, remember when I tried to rape your wife? Man, crazy times. Anyway, I’ll get back to work.”

It’s what we want — justice for all the times those popular assholes were popular assholes at us. The thing is, sometimes popular people kind of rule at life. Popularity is often shorthand for “people skills,” and that often stems from being aggressive and/or physically attractive, all of which is really, really beneficial in the adult world.

We mentioned Mike Dexter up there. He was a jerk in Can’t Hardly Wait, but he was also good enough at football to get a scholarship to college. Communities tend to have a long memory when it comes to people who were good at sports. In my hometown, football players are the closest things to local celebrities we have. Mike would have to screw up pretty badly to not be able to land a cushy job at a local car dealership there, even if he dropped out of college. So what did Mike do?

Columbia Pictures

Columbia PicturesI need a Cant Hardly Wait 2, in which we see … the murders.

The Mikes of the real world will learn to tie a tie, play golf, and get good jobs from their frat alumni, working overtime to figure out how to keep their sexual harassment away from witnesses. And while he’s interviewing you for a job years later, you’ll look at his gold watch and think, Damn, this could have been me, if only I’d drank more in high school.

If you’re the type of person who enjoys reliving your glory days on video, try it with a sick projector set from DB Power.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 5 Horrible Life Lessons Learned from Teen Movies and 6 Ways Society Is Designed To Screw Teenagers Every Day.

Also follow us on Facebook, dudes.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/4-straight-up-lies-movies-tell-teens-about-high-school/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/07/12/4-straight-up-lies-movies-tell-teens-about-high-school/

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adambstingus · 6 years ago

Text

4 Straight-Up Lies Movies Tell Teens About High School

Getting Drunk Will Make You So Popular

I feel like I can very objectively say that nothing he’s doing is cool, despite the fact that he is portrayed as Bacchus, god of wine, revelry, and late ’90s fashion trends.

20th Century Fox

20th Century FoxHoly shit, alcohol is awesome! I should drink it every day for the rest of my life!

Touchstone PicturesPoor Heath Ledger’s nervously eyeing for an exit into a less cliched scene.

A Live Band Will Play At Your School Dances

20th Century Fox

… and Jawbreaker.

TriStar Pictures

Although they go by the name The Electrocutes in Drive Me Crazy. Keep that in mind the next time you attend a trivia night hosted by Melissa Joan Hart.

They cut the scene in which Ron gets wasted on butterbeer and lip syncs “Fuck Tha Police.”

Teachers Are Obsessed With Their Students’ Personal Lives

Paramount Pictures“I HAVE TENURE; I CAN STALK ANYONE I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”

Universal Pictures

Universal PicturesEven people who are paid millions of dollars avoid hanging out with Sean Penn unless absolutely required to.

The Popular Kids Are Doomed To Lead Crappy Adult Lives

Universal Pictures“Hey, remember when I tried to rape your wife? Man, crazy times. Anyway, I’ll get back to work.”

Columbia Pictures

Columbia PicturesI need a Cant Hardly Wait 2, in which we see … the murders.

If you’re the type of person who enjoys reliving your glory days on video, try it with a sick projector set from DB Power.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 5 Horrible Life Lessons Learned from Teen Movies and 6 Ways Society Is Designed To Screw Teenagers Every Day.

Also follow us on Facebook, dudes.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/4-straight-up-lies-movies-tell-teens-about-high-school/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/175827708192

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trendingnewsb · 7 years ago

Text

4 Straight-Up Lies Movies Tell Teens About High School

Getting Drunk Will Make You So Popular

youtube

I feel like I can very objectively say that nothing he’s doing is cool, despite the fact that he is portrayed as Bacchus, god of wine, revelry, and late ’90s fashion trends.

20th Century Fox

20th Century FoxHoly shit, alcohol is awesome! I should drink it every day for the rest of my life!

Touchstone PicturesPoor Heath Ledger’s nervously eyeing for an exit into a less cliched scene.

A Live Band Will Play At Your School Dances

20th Century Fox

… and Jawbreaker.

TriStar Pictures

Although they go by the name The Electrocutes in Drive Me Crazy. Keep that in mind the next time you attend a trivia night hosted by Melissa Joan Hart.

youtube

They cut the scene in which Ron gets wasted on butterbeer and lip syncs “Fuck Tha Police.”

Teachers Are Obsessed With Their Students’ Personal Lives

Paramount Pictures“I HAVE TENURE; I CAN STALK ANYONE I DAMN WELL PLEASE!”

Universal Pictures

Universal PicturesEven people who are paid millions of dollars avoid hanging out with Sean Penn unless absolutely required to.

The Popular Kids Are Doomed To Lead Crappy Adult Lives

Universal Pictures“Hey, remember when I tried to rape your wife? Man, crazy times. Anyway, I’ll get back to work.”

Columbia Pictures

Columbia PicturesI need a Cant Hardly Wait 2, in which we see … the murders.

If you’re the type of person who enjoys reliving your glory days on video, try it with a sick projector set from DB Power.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more, check out 5 Horrible Life Lessons Learned from Teen Movies and 6 Ways Society Is Designed To Screw Teenagers Every Day.

Also follow us on Facebook, dudes.