#which had a list of JEWISH BUSINESSES TO TARGET

[captainimprobable]

"Long live the Intifada" is such a chilling thing to casually read on my dash.

[nevermindirah]

I have a hard to answer question how does one handle in a fanfic tog not going after shitler with Jewish!booker on the team without them coming off like assholes in regards to the human cost as well as the personal cost to booker, cause I'm drawing a blank

hi anon!

this is a super duper big large heavy question, and it's also one that might, depending on the context of your fic, have a very simple answer: the immortals are, other than their immortality, human, and therefore they can each only be in a single place at once.

they don't have superhuman strength or speed, they don't have magic, they don't have access to time-travel technology. I'm not an expert in ww2 military strategy but I'm sure allied governments looked into assassinating Hitler, and nobody managed to do it until the shitstain killed himself. the immortals are highly skilled and well-connected but not at the level of for example the agency that would go on to become the CIA, so who's to say they'd be successful in this assassination if they tried.

there's also the matter of when and for what reason the immortals might decide that killing this particular shitstain should go at the top of their to-do list. it's so easy for us to say in hindsight that a catastrophic volume of suffering could've been averted with this one person's death 10-15 years earlier than what happened in our timeline, but even with the strategic benefit of that hindsight, none of us can predict exactly what would've happened after a successful assassination in 1939, 1932, or even earlier. killing one leader doesn't ensure the movement he leads will stop with his death; someone even worse could have stepped in under the banner of a martyr.

things had gotten bad for Jews in a lot of places many times before things started getting real bad again in Germany. again, I'm not an expert, so I don't know when anyone outside of Nazi senior leadership knew anything about plans for the Holocaust — but would any of the immortals have learned about it sooner than international news media did? would they have known about it early enough that it was possible for a group of four immortals to stop? would they have believed such horrific plans if they'd seen them on paper? there's historical evidence that US officials didn't believe early reports could possibly be true.

there are photos on Copley's wall showing the immortals in Europe at several points during ww2 and there's that one panel from one of the comics of some of the boys being involved in liberating one of the camps. but we don't know details beyond that, and we don't know what the immortals were up to in the 1930s. they may have been very, very busy doing what they could to protect people from Japan's horrific war crimes of the same era, which started several years earlier than the Third Reich.

none of that is to say it would be easy for the immortals to know that the Holocaust was happening and not stop it. I'm sure it was devastating for all of them, who'd already seen so much needless painful death in their long lives, to see the ruthless mechanized efficiency of Nazi mass murder. it would be especially devastating for Booker, even without the Jewish Booker headcanon, bc his children died hating him bc he could not save them no matter how much they begged and no matter how hard he tried.

so my hope for the fic you're working on is that you'll show at least a little bit how their inability to stop these horrors weighs on the immortals. show the personal cost to Booker. do the others get why such horrors happening to his people, who are specifically being targeted because they are Jews, hurts him so badly? or does Andy make dark jokes about how God really must not exist or what did Booker do to piss him off.

does Andy make dark jokes like that bc she sees Quynh's face in every woman they rescue from the Japanese army's rape campaigns? it would have been just as impossible for the immortals alone to save every one of them as it would've been to stop the Holocaust. might their personal connections to victims thousands of miles apart in a war causing overwhelming suffering across most of the planet wear on the immortals' relationships with each other? they can only do but so much. how the hell do they choose which people to try to save?

now that I've thought about it, writing a fic where they do kill Hitler might actually be easier. you can just handwave the deeply frustrating logistical realities and make it so that conveniently killing the nightmare in charge happens to cause the whole house of nightmares to fall apart. (you can also handwave that in your new timeline non-Jews across Europe welcomed their Jewish neighbors home with open arms, when very often the opposite happened irl.)

this topic is so rich for all kinds of exploration in fic. you could end up with a long and plotty meditation on how painful it is for the immortals to have to choose between so many people who need their help. you might have only been asking for the sake of some references to this era of the past in a fic set during or after the movie where the historical timeline is set in stone, in which case I hope what I've shared here leads you to writing those passages with appropriate seriousness and care, even if it's ultimately a small part of a story mainly focused on other things.

this was hard to answer, but not intellectually, this kind of analysis is how my brain works. it just hurts my heart to think about how much my people have lost, how much pain so many people have suffered, and how much suffering is happening right now that there's so little I can do to stop. if I were immortal right now how the hell would I choose between Palestinians and Massalit people and Uyghurs and Rohingya and the multitude of Latin Americans suffering at the US border, all the Black Americans suffering systematically in US prisons, all the other people whose catastrophic suffering I don't even know about?

but I'm glad you asked bc this is such an under-considered element of TOG that's very worth the spotlight. I hope my thoughts here help you, and maybe others will see this and think about it as well.

[mariacallous]

The old man standing beside the prime minister on Wednesday, who spoke with pain and emotion about what happened in Israel on Saturday the 7th, was until 13 days ago one of the main targets of the rightist, Bibi-ist poison machine.

Ministers and lawmakers of the ruling party urged him to mind his own business, not to interfere with our lives and to respect our democracy.

Right-wing media personalities mocked his advanced age and moments of confusion. They rebuked him for not meeting the prime minister sooner. They reminded him that Israel wasn’t a banana republic and we have no need for his repeated preaching of “shared values.”

They received these messages directly from the most senior rank in Israel. The sentiment in the Prime Minister’s Office was this: Let’s hang in there until November 24, our dear brother Donald Trump will return and then we’ll be free.

Israel, as a nation, has much to be ashamed of this cursed year. The campaign against U.S. President Joe Biden is at the top of the list of shame. If he had been made of the same stuff as the vengeful, infantile Trump, who never forgave anyone for slighting him, he wouldn’t have rallied to our side in a way that was no less than historic. Nor would there have been a visit here. It’s extremely doubtful we would have seen the defense aid now being funneled to us in such quantity and quality. They don’t make friends of Israel like this anymore.

It’s not easy for a person who will turn 81 in a month’s time to fly to a place with a seven-hour time difference, open an intensive, exhausting schedule of discussions and meetings and then board the plane back to Washington again. He didn’t have to do it. His secretary of state spends many days here, the secretary of defense was here. He could have sent his vice president, Kamala Harris. She is also a staunch friend of Israel, and she was also subject to the inevitable shower of abuse (in the context of the judicial overhaul) from the cartoon foreign minister, Eli Cohen.

Biden came to Israel, a state at war, to express his love and commitment to the Jewish state, and also to warn enemies like Iran and Hezbollah not to join the war. So far he has done everything he could humanly do to strengthen Israel, from the aspects of security, strategy and leadership. Granted, it doesn’t harm his election campaign – quite the opposite. A survey released in the United States on Wednesday shows that for the first time in a long while, he is rising in the polls in contrast to Trump. His team, headed by National Security Advisor Jake Sullivan, is running the crisis in a much colder fashion than Biden’s emotionalism. For them this is an opportunity to prove to the Middle East – especially to Saudi Arabia – what a superpower looks like when it comes to the help of an ally in danger.

His and Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s involvement in the war cabinet discussions is unprecedented, like everything that is happening now. At this point, they’re more updated than the defense cabinet ministers in all the security details regarding Gaza and the northern border, should it conflagrate.

In the short term, this will help Israel prevent opening a northern front. In the long run, it could be a strategic problem. But sometimes what strengthens the United States could weaken Israel. The Abraham Accords, like the deal being formed with Saudi Arabia, which is now suspended, were based on the Sunni states’ recognition that Israel is the strongest state in the region. But when Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu calls his parents when he’s beaten up at school, and they rush in to help, Israel looks weak.

Besides, Biden doesn’t trust Netanyahu and his cabinet, whose extreme members constitute a clear danger to the state’s – and region’s – security. The prime minister has proved in the nine months between January 4 and October 7 that he needs close supervision.

At countless crossroads, he acted irrationally and consistently ignored the warning signals raised in front of him. Again and again, he violated his commitment to the president to legislate in agreement with the opposition. He infuriated the Americans so many times that they find it difficult to believe he’s changed.

He hasn’t, and he won’t. So beside the huge carrots being granted to Israel, there’s also a big stick hovering above.

[thetiredstuff]

was gonna make a post about how i was disappointed in misha for not speaking out more clearly about the isr*el-hamas and palestine situation given how he speaks up about so many international situations but i'm also a big believer in not always being reachable/on your phone/social media for your mental wealth etc and i try to keep up with it all but i've had some busy things happening and it's been a lot and i basically have no social life so i don't know how people do it who do. but when celebs speak out i'm an even bigger believer in them knowing what they're talking about because of the platform that they have but that requires reading up on the situations these celebs comment on and some of the situations celebs comment on have a decade(s) old history that isn't very easily summarized on wikipedia. so all of that is to say that i was still disappointed with misha's "silence" on what is happenign compared to how vocal he has been on other issues in the past. but i also know how omnipresent the isr*eli propaganda is in the west and especially the us and how retaliation in the form of blacklisting, unemployment, termination has been happening to people in all sorts of jobs who dare to utter a "palestinians devserve to live" stance.

but he just posted something so gonna comment on it. i don't agree with everything he's saying, but i'm surprised he spoke about it with such a clear text and i'm glad to see he's open to hearing other ideas and above all i'm "glad" to see he's on the artists for cease-fire list going around. it's awful that thats even a thing you have to be glad for but given that the vast majority of celebs have no problem supporting the mass murder of a people ...

also misha very clearly makes a distinction between h*mas and the palestinian people which is very interesting to me, given that this is a distinction many pro-palestinian people do not make. words matter people. i see a lot of people in the comments on his text completely interchanging h*mas and palestinians as in h*mas was justified in doing what it did cuz the palestinians have suffered for decades under isr*eli regime. h*mas for all intents and purposes is a terrorist organization that terorizes its own palestinian people, causing palestinians fearing for their lives to have to flee palestine and leave their families behind and even then they're not safe. do not celebrate that group and its acts. regardless of isr*els despicable atrocities, the abduction and murder of people is never okay no matter who does it.

did see a screenshot of a tweet (but can't seem to find the tweet) where he said he thinks genocide is the wrong term here and i've seen a lot of people be very disappointed in him for saying that. i get that unfortunately that is because the internationally recognized deifnition of genocide is just very "vague". like it's clearly defined but with its definition it is very very difficult to prove that a state or actor actually committed or is committing the intent of genocide. i'm guessing that is why it took until a couple of days ago for the first law suits to be filed with the ICC alleging a genocide is occuring eventhough the war has been happening for a month now. it reminds me of how the atrocities and the horrible treatment of jewish people was not recognized for years after wwii. it took several years for experts and the wider public to realize that there was a targeted campaign happening against a group of people in the hopes of murdering them. while it was happening, people did not realize this. it's why the accusation of genocide is one hardly used by experts and lawmakers, instead they'll opt for one of the crimes that falls within what is a pillar of genocide like ethnic cleansing

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: The Quillette Editorial Board

Published: Dec 23, 2023

The Montgomery, Alabama-based Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) was founded in 1971 with a mission to fight poverty and racial discrimination. Its early litigation campaigns, which targeted the Ku Klux Klan and other overtly racist organizations, met with success, and the group soon came to be seen as an authoritative source in regard to right-wing extremism more generally. 

Another form of expertise the organization developed was in the area of marketing—especially when the market in question consisted of deep-pocketed urban liberals. As former SPLC staffer Bob Moser reported in a 2019 New Yorker article, the group has consistently taken on attention-grabbing urgent-seeming causes that its leaders knew could be leveraged as a means to gain publicity and—more importantly—donations. It’s no coincidence that the SPLC’s co-founder and long-time fundraising guru, Morris Dees, had previously operated a direct-mail business that sold cookbooks and tchotchkes. “Whether you’re selling cakes or causes, it’s all the same,” Dees told a journalist in 1988.

Dees’ big fundraising break at the SPLC came when he got access to the direct-mail list from the 1972 presidential campaign of Democrat George McGovern. The SPLC co-founder went on to maximize the SPLC’s revenues through what would now be known as targeted methods. According to one former legal colleague, for instance, Dees rarely used his middle name—Seligman—in SPLC mailings, except when it came to “Jewish zip codes.”

Thanks to Dees’ slick marketing expertise, the SPLC was eventually taking in more money than it paid out in operational expenses. (As of October 2022, its endowment fund was valued at almost US$640 million.) But over time, his hard-sell tactics began to alienate co-workers, as there was an obvious disconnect between the real class-based problems they observed in society and the fixations of the naïve northern donors whose wallets Dees was seeking to pry open.

“I felt that [Dees] was on the Klan kick because it was such an easy target—easy to beat in court, easy to raise big money on,” former SPLC attorney Deborah Ellis told Progressive writer John Egerton. “The Klan is no longer one of the South’s biggest problems—not because racism has gone away, but because the racists simply can’t get away with terrorism any more.”

On March 14, 2019, Dees—by now 82 years old, but still listed as the SPLC’s chief trial lawyer—was fired amid widespread rumors that he’d been the subject of internal sexual-harassment accusations. His affiliation was scrubbed from the group’s web site; and the organization’s president, Richard Cohen, cryptically (but damningly) declared that, “when one of our own fails to meet [SPLC] standards, no matter his or her role in the organization, we take it seriously and must take appropriate action.�� (Less than two weeks later, Cohen himself left the organization, casting his resignation as part of a transition “to a new generation of leaders.”)

In describing his tenure at the SPLC during the early 2000s, Moser argued that the very structure of the organization betrayed its hypocrisy: Here was an entity dedicated to social justice (as we would now call it), yet which was run by an extremely well-paid, almost exclusively white, corps of lawyers, administrators, and fund-raisers who ruled over a mixed-race corps of junior staff. As far back as the 1980s, Dees was openly admitting that he saw the fight against poverty as passé, and admitted that the “P” in SPLC was an anachronism. Jaded staff began ruefully referring to their own flashy headquarters as the “Poverty Palace.”

Dees and Cohen may have left the Poverty Palace, but the SPLC’s tendency to betray its founding principles clearly remains a problem, as illustrated by a new SPLC report released under the auspices of what the group dubs “Combating Anti-LGBTQ+ Pseudoscience Through Accessible Informative Narratives.” (This verbal clunker seems to have been reverse-engineered in order to yield the acronym, “CAPTAIN.”)

The report purports to demonstrate “the perils of anti-LGBTQ+ pseudoscience” and “anti-trans narratives and extremism.” Much like the dramatically worded hard-sell direct-mail campaigns that the SPLC started up under Dees, it’s marketed as a matter of life and death: According to the deputy director of research for the SPLC’s “Intelligence Project,” the “anti-LGBTQ+ pseudoscience” uncovered by the SPLC has “real-life, often life-threatening consequences for trans and non-binary people.”

At this point, it should be stressed that there is certainly nothing wrong with the SPLC—or anyone else—campaigning for the legitimate rights of people who are transgender. Such a campaign would be entirely in keeping with the SPLC’s original liberal ethos. Just as no one should be denied, say, an apartment, a marriage license, or the right to vote based on his or her race, religion, sex, or sexual orientation, no trans person should be denied these rights and amenities simply because he or she experiences gender dysphoria.

But the SPLC’s report hardly confines itself to such unassailable liberal principles. The real point of the project, it seems, was to catalogue and denounce public figures who’ve expressed dissent from the most extreme demands of trans-rights activists—specifically, (1) the demand that children and adolescents who present as transgender must instantly be “affirmed” in their dysphoric beliefs, even if such affirmation leads to a life of sterility, surgical disfigurement, drug dependence, and medical complications; and (2) the demand that biological men who self-identify as women must be permitted unfettered access to protected women’s spaces and sports leagues.

The SPLC’s authors seek to cast their ideological enemies as hate-addled reactionaries whose nefarious activities must “be understood as part of the historical legacy of white supremacy and the political aims of the religious right.” And it is absolutely true that some of the organizations they name-check are hard-right, socially conservative outfits that endorse truly transphobic (and homophobic) beliefs.

But many of the supposed transphobes targeted by the report aren’t even conservative—let alone members of the religious right. In a multitude of cases, they’re simply parents, therapists, and activists who argue the obvious fact that human sexual biology doesn’t evanesce into rainbow dust the moment that a child—or middle-aged man—asserts that he or she was “born in the wrong body.”

It’s also interesting to note who gets left out of the SPLC’s analysis. The most influential figures leading the backlash against (what some call) “gender ideology” are women such as author J.K. Rowling and tennis legend Martina Navratilova, both of whom come at the issue from explicitly feminist perspectives. Being successful public figures, neither woman needs a cent from the conservative think tanks that the SPLC presents as being back-office puppet-masters of the alleged anti-trans conspiracy outlined in the CAPTAIN report.

In keeping with the conspiracist motif that runs through the document, the authors have provided spider-web diagrams that set out the connections binding this (apparently) shadowy cabal. In this regard, it seems that Quillette itself served as one of the SPLC’s sources: In a section titled, “Group Dynamics and Division of Labor within the Anti-LGBTQ+ Pseudoscience Network,” the authors footnote “an August 23, 2023 podcast for Quillette,” wherein

it was revealed that [Colin] Wright is in a relationsihp [sic] with journalist Christina Buttons, who is an advisoary [sic] board member of [the Gender Dysphoria Alliance] with Drs. Lisa Littman and Ray Blanchard, an editoral [sic] board member of Springer’s Archives of Sexual Research [a mistaken reference to the Archives of Sexual Behavior] with J. Michael Bailey. Notably, Buttons and Wright are interviewed by host Jonathan Kay. In addition to hosting Quillette’s podcast, Kay serves on FAIR’s board of advisors.

We’ve chosen to highlight this particular (typo-riddled) text from the report not just because of the absurd suggestion that our publication has enlisted in an imaginary “anti-LGBTQ+ pseudoscience network,” but also because the above-quoted roll call of supposed gender villains illustrates the intellectual dishonesty that suffuses the whole report.

Let’s go through the references one by one, in the order in which they are presented. The Gender Dysphoria Alliance (GDA) is a group led by people who are themselves transgender, and who are “concerned about the direction that gender medicine and activism has taken.” Are we to imagine that its members are directing transphobia—against themselves? Lisa Littman, formerly of Brown University, is a respected academic who’s published a peer-reviewed analysis of Rapid Onset Gender Disorder. Ray Blanchard is a well-known University of Toronto psychiatrist. The Archives of Sexual Behavior is a peer-reviewed academic journal in sexology. Michael Bailey is a specialist in sexual orientation and gender nonconformity at Northwestern University. Colin Wright is a widely published writer (including at Quillette) with a PhD in evolutionary biology from UC Santa Barbara. (The SPLC’s claim that he is in a relationship with journalist Christina Buttons, who also writes about gender issues, is completely true. But the fact that the group saw fit to report this fact as if it were evidence of sinister machinations says far more about the report’s authors than it does about either Wright or Buttons.) FAIR, the Foundation Against Intolerance & Racism, is a classically liberal group led by a Harvard Law School graduate named Monica Harris. Do any of these people or groups sound like extremists?

The fact that the SPLC is attempting to market its report as a blow against the “anti-LGBTQ+” movement, writ large, is itself quite laughable, since many of the activists who’ve been arguing for a more balanced approach to gender rights are themselves either gay (as with Navratilova and Julie Bindel) or (as with the founders of the GDA) transgender.

Others on the SPLC gender-enemies list are author Abigail Shrier, and therapists Sasha Ayad, and Stella O’Malley. These women openly broadcast their views in best-selling books, as well as mainstream magazines and newspapers. The idea that the SPLC has successfully “exposed” these women through some kind of investigation, as suggested by the title that’s been slapped on the CAPTAIN report, would be ludicrous even if they’d said anything scandalous (which they haven’t).

And what course of future action does the SPLC endorse? For one, it concludes that educators should stigmatize gender-critical views as analogous to “racism, sexism, and heteronormativity.” The report's authors also want academic journals to sniff out groups that “espouse an anti-LGBTQ+ ideology” (as that latter term is speciously defined by the SPLC). And in a final flourish, the group urges reporters to “be aware of the narrative manipulation strategies and the cooptation of scientific credentials and language by anti-trans researchers when sourcing stories about trans experiences.”

With this last point, we get to the real nub: The apparent goal is for this report to be read as a catalogue of people, ideas, and groups that must be shunned. Indeed, the authors explicitly cite the work of one Andrea James, a once-respected arts producer who, as Jesse Singal has documented, now runs a creepy (“stalker” is the word Singal uses) web site called Transgender Map, which lists personal details of anyone whom James deems a gender heretic. When it comes to one-on-one communication, James’ manner of dealing with critics is exemplified by an email sent to bioethicist Alice Dreger, in which James referred to Dreger’s then-five-year-old son as a “womb turd.”

One way to describe the CAPTAIN report is as an SPLC-branded rehash of the information contained on Transgender Map. And one can understand why the authors thought that such a gambit might work. The SPLC already publishes other curated lists of hatemongers—e.g., its “Hatewatch” service, “Hate Map,” and “Intelligence Report.” It wasn’t such a long shot to imagine that this new report might convince readers to treat the listed “Anti-LGBTQ+ Pseudoscience Network” acolytes as equally disreputable.

But if that was the authors’ goal, it doesn’t seem to have been achieved. The SPLC report landed with something of a thud—and has attracted little attention on social media except insofar as it was mocked by its intended targets.

This may have something to do with the report’s timing. For several years now, a backlash against this kind of gender agitprop has been building within many of the same liberal and progressive circles that the SPLC has traditionally targeted for donations. The trend is reflected by the rise of such groups as the LGB Alliance, a coalition of lesbian, gay, and bisexual people who are fed up with the ideological takeover of LGBT groups by a militant subset of trans activists.

The same trend is playing out internationally. While the SPLC does its best to heap blame on America’s conservative Christians, many of western Europe’s governments (none of which are in thrall to the Heritage Foundation or the Charles Koch Foundation) have been following a more gender-critical path for years.

Just a week after the SPLC put out its report, in fact, the UK government published new guidelines advising teachers that they have no duty to automatically “affirm” a child’s assertion that he or she is transgender; and that, in considering such situations, teachers should speak with a child’s parents and consider whether the child is under undue influence from social media or peers. Sweden, Finland, and Norway—hardly bastions of Christian conservatism—have also rolled back policies that rush children into transition. In Canada, several provinces have recently enacted rules that require parents to be notified when a child seeks to transition, even in the face of a sustained media campaign that repeats lurid claims to the effect that such policies will cause an epidemic of trans suicides. Are all of these foreign governments also complicit in the vast “junk-science and disinformation campaign” against trans people that the SPLC claims to have “exposed”?

The SPLC would hardly be the first progressive organization whose reputation has suffered by going all-in on the gender issue. The American Civil Liberties Union, which also was rooted in traditional liberal values before succumbing to more faddish progressive tendencies, has attracted ridicule due to its parroting of slogans such as “men who get their periods are men,” and the claim that males have no “unfair advantage” over females in sports.

These organizations have never been shy about angering conservatives and reactionaries; indeed, they wear such anger as a badge of pride. But their cultish refusal to engage with the reality of biological sex also antagonizes progressive feminists seeking to protect female spaces from biological men, and LGB activists who see the attempted erasure of sex-based attraction as a species of progressive homophobia.

Which is to say that the SPLC’s report seems not only intellectually dishonest, but also self-destructive. While the SPLC leaders who green-lit this project once may have been able to bank on the popularity of pronoun checks and esoteric gender identities among the wealthy white coastal progressives who comprise the bulk of their donors, this is an ideological movement that’s decidedly past its peak. It’s a marketing error that the savvy Dees likely never would have made.

The SPLC obviously does a lot more than lend its name to sloppily edited gender propaganda: A review of its press feed shows that it still has staff working traditional legal beats such as voters’ rights, police accountability, and humane treatment for prisoners. But when an organization publishes misleading materials in regard to one issue, the natural effect is to raise serious questions about the group’s values and credibility more generally—questions that SPLC supporters will want to think about the next time one of the group’s fundraisers hits them up for a donation.

==

This is what institutional capture looks like.

[rgr-pop]

This is the first time I had noticed something like this in Detroit Jewish News. I was looking for articles they may have published about rent control under OPA--specifically whether they might have run any op-eds about its extension or expiration in the early fifties. The ad (1942) is for a "colored property manager"--which is to say, likely, a black property manager whose job was to manage property rented by black people. The ad, run in the Jewish news, presumed to target landlords. There are some references to building managers in Beryl Satter's Family Properties--incredible book about jewish cities and black housing (I'm avoiding That Phrase, lol). Nathan Connolly's A World More Concrete (one of my favorite works of historical writing) picks up black landlords, managers of black rental housing, rent collectors, and black entrepreneurship in jim crow politics. But I hadn't seen this before. Here's what Isabell Management's listings looked like in the Detroit Free Press's classifieds:

I had just been showing R. some examples of "colored property" listings, so I sent him these. I had recommended Satter's book because there's a Bloomfield Hills mega landlord we've dealt with whose story is this story: a Jewish family willing to toe the color line--rentals, contract sales--for profit. I wanted to know who was behind Isabell Management and if my hunches were correct. Got lucky with a search on those hunches. I found a black social worker for the Detroit Welfare Department in 1940 named Iva (sometimes Ivy) Isabell. She was married to a man named George Isabell, who on the 1950 census was listed as a realtor.

Isabell Management was his company, and I probably should have known who he was--a minor celebrity in Detroit desegregation politics, appointed to housing commission by Cobo in response to criticism of his segregationist regime. Isabell was a director of Brewster homes. But a realtor first (and I think probably somewhat involved with "desegregating" "realtors associations" and so on.) It doesn't appear that Isabell placed any ads for "colored property management" in the Free Press! I'd like to know which Jewish landlords he might have worked with.

He placed (Jewish) holiday greetings in the Jewish News throughout the fifties, iconic (now I will say the phrase) Black-Jewish Relations. Now I am wondering how many black people and businesses placed such ads in the Jewish News that I never noticed!

here's something REALLY that phrase: a black realtor advertising a retail space to the jewish news, 1956:

okay now WHAT does this one (1949) mean:

A similar solicitation put more straightforwardly in 1948:

I found a few things about Iva Isabell's work for the city in what would become the Department of Social Services, but mostly I want to share this 1977 Women for Coleman Young ad:

[bllsbailey]

Hezbollah and Israel Are on the Brink of War...And the Biden White House Is Silent

As Sarah wrote on Saturday, tragedy has again struck Israel: Hezbollah reportedly fired a rocket at the Israeli Druze village of Majdal Shams, killing at least ten people, some of them children. They were playing a soccer game. The attack has increased tensions as Hezbollah has been firing rockets into Israel for months. It’s led to an internal displacement crisis, as Israelis in the northern part of the country have evacuated to the south. 

Since the start of the war in Gaza against Hamas in retaliation for the barbaric October 7 attacks, Israel has made no qualms about taking protracted military action against Hezbollah if the rocket attacks continue. Hamas’ invasion into the southern part of the country last year shocked the psyche of the Jewish state, where wiping out the terrorists and all threats to their nation was a security priority, a sentiment shared from across the political spectrum. We could be on the verge of a northern front opening in the Middle East, which has made the Biden White House nervous. This rocket attack comes as Kamala Harris, who has assumed the top slot in the 2024 Democratic Party ticket, called for a ceasefire in her remarks on the ongoing situation in Gaza (via Axios): 

The Biden administration is highly concerned that a rocket attack from Lebanon that killed 12 people in the Golan Heights could lead to an all out war between Israel and Hezbollah, U.S. officials tell Axios.  The big picture: The administration for months has worried that both Israel and Hezbollah are miscalculating as they escalate their rhetoric and fighting on the ground while thinking they can avoid an all-out war.  U.S. officials are also concerned that without a ceasefire in Gaza, a war between Israel and the Lebanese militant group is becoming more likely, which would exacerbate the regional crisis and draw the U.S. deeper into the conflict.  "What happened today could be the trigger we have been worried about and tried to avoid for 10 months," a U.S. official told Axios. Driving the news: The IDF said twelve people were killed and more than 30 were wounded when a rocket exploded in a soccer field in the Druze village of Majdal Shams in the Golan Heights.  IDF spokesman Rear Admiral Daniel Hagari said Hezbollah was responsible for the attack.  Hezbollah denied it fired the rocket and said it had no connection to the incident. Hagari called it the "most serious targeting" of Israeli civilians since the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel.

Where’s Joe Biden? As of writing this post at 2 am, there’s been no statement about the attack, not even a tweet. Who’s in charge of the White House? Does Joe Biden know there’s been an attack? In his last Oval Office address, Mr. Biden had a laundry list of items he thought he could get done, showing that he still had the mental capacity to carry out his duties. He needed to sound busy, but we’re on the brink of a second front opening in the Middle East between Israel and radical Islamic terrorists, and the president is AWOL.

Joe, is America back? Because something should have been released hours ago, even before your 4:30 PM bedtime. Has Biden been present at the NSC meetings on this situation? 

Trending on Townhall Videos

[fahrni]

The Musk Files - Down the Rabbit Hole

The latest bad press for Space Karen and his mismanagement of Twitter.

To think Reddit CEO Steve Huffman thinks Musk has done a great job running Twitter with less is shocking.

I’m not sure how anyone labels this guy a genius. He’s a huckster, racist, masochist, and anti-Semite among other things.

If you still believe in him dig deep and ask why you believe that. The answer should scare you or at least make you think about your values as a human being.

Enjoy the links.

Daring Fireball

There are some moments in this video interview that are just cringe-inducing. Even just the awkward pauses. (Faber, to my mind, did a hell of a job — Musk is obviously a very difficult person to interview.) I’m starting to get real Bobby Fischer vibes from Musk — a genius, yes, but descending into conspirational hateful madness. But Fischer became a recluse; Musk is one of the most prominent people in the world.

Vox

In the past five days, Musk has doubled down on a conspiracy theory about the Allen, Texas, shooter; tweeted that billionaire philanthropist George Soros (who has long been the target of antisemitic conspiracy theories online) wants to “erode the very fabric of civilization” and “hates humanity;” and promoted a quickly debunked rumor that falsely claimed Washington Post journalist Taylor Lorenz was related to the founder of the Internet Archive.

The Atlantic

Twitter has long been described, even by its most ardent users, as a hellsite. But under Elon Musk, Twitter has evolved into a platform that is indistinguishable from the wastelands of alternative social-media sites such as Truth Social and Parler. It is now a right-wing social network.

France 24

Researchers have documented an explosion of hate and misinformation on Twitter since the Tesla billionaire took over in October 2022 – and now experts say communicating about climate science on the social network on which many of them rely is getting harder.

Platformer

Their high-profile event on Twitter Spaces, where DeSantis had just announced his run for president, had been plagued by technical glitches. The first audio livestream cut out before DeSantis could get his news out.

Daily Kos

Billionaire conspiracy promoter Elon Musk spent $44 billion on Twitter to implement his special brand of “free speech,” essentially bringing back all the Nazis, conspiracy theorists, and all-around deplorables that were once moderated out of the platform, relegated to darker corners of the internet.

The Daily Beast

Twitter is failing to remove 99 percent of hate speech posted by Twitter Blue users, new research has found, and instead may be boosting paid accounts that spew racism and homophobia.

Ben & Jerry’s

We’ve watched with great concern the developments at Twitter following Elon Musk’s purchase of the social media platform. Hate speech is up dramatically while content moderation has become all but non-existent. In addition to the changes on the platform that have led to an increase in hate speech, Musk himself has doubled down on dangerous anti-democratic lies and white nationalist hate speech. The platform has become a threatening and even dangerous space for people from so many backgrounds, including people who are Black, Brown, trans, gay, women, people with disabilities, Jewish, Muslim and the list goes on. This is unconscionable in addition to being plain bad business.

Erin Reed

As Pride Month began, Elon Musk stated his intention to lobby for the criminalization of gender-affirming healthcare for transgender minors - a move that is unequivocally harmful and contradicts all major medical organizations in the United States and standards of care.

Ars Technica

Twitter’s US advertising revenue plunged 59 percent year-over-year during a recent five-week period, The New York Times reported today. The firm’s US ad “revenue for the five weeks from April 1 to the first week of May was $88 million, down 59 percent from a year earlier, according to an internal presentation obtained by The New York Times.”

The Business Journals

Judge orders sheriff to evict Twitter from Boulder office

[msclaritea]

Who is Joe Lewis - the British billionaire indicted in the US?

Joe Lewis, 86, made his fortune after selling his father's catering business in 1979 and shorting the pound in the early 1990s.

Wednesday 26 July 2023 17:18, UK

Joe Lewis, whose family owns Tottenham Hotspur football club, has been indicted for allegedly orchestrating an insider trading scheme in the US.

A 29-page document reveals that prosecutors in New York have accused the British billionaire of running a "brazen" scheme, whereby he would tip off lovers, friends and associates with private stock market information, which they used to make millions.

The 86-year-old's lawyer says the charges are an "egregious error in judgment".

Tottenham owner Joe Lewis looks on..Barclays Premier League..Tottenham Hotspur v Arsenal..2nd October, 2011. (Cal Sport Media via AP Images)

East End beginnings

Joe Lewis was born to a Jewish family in the East End of London in February 1937.

They lived above a pub in Bow's Roman Road. Mr Lewis left school at 15 to help run his father's catering business, Tavistock Banqueting.

After starting as a waiter, Mr Lewis oversaw the firm's expansion into the tourist market, targeting American visitors with "medieval banqueting" experiences at themed restaurants across the West End.

He gave Hard Rock Café and Planet Hollywood founder Robert Earl his first job and also boasted the Hanover Grand nightclub as part of his portfolio, where a colleague once described him as a "natural schmoozer".

In 1979, he sold the business, which made him a multi-millionaire and saw him move to the Bahamas.

The Tavistock Group he founded a few years earlier has since gained more than 200 assets across 13 countries, including Tottenham Hotspur and the UK pub chain Mitchells & Butlers.

Having ventured into foreign exchange (FX) trading, Mr Lewis's fortune sky-rocketed in the early 1990s when he allegedly teamed up with US billionaire George Soros to bet the pound would crash out of the European Exchange Rate Mechanism (EERM).

Three years after Black Wednesday made him rich, he reportedly did the same by shorting the Mexican Peso.

Joe Lewis in the stands with Tottenham chairman Daniel Levy in 2011

In the late 1990s he took a financial interest in football when his son Charlie Lewis and then-protégé Daniel Levy founded the English National Investment Company.

While his son focused on restaurants, Mr Levy was put in charge of football.

Before buying fellow East Ender Sir Alan Sugar's controlling stake in Spurs for £22m in 2001, the pair invested in sides including Slavia Prague, Vicenza, AEK Athens and Rangers.

Mr Levy, who oversaw Tottenham's move to its new £800m stadium, is now the longest-serving chairman in the Premier League.

Mr Lewis ceased to be a "person with significant control" of Tottenham last year after the club said there had been a "reorganisation of the Lewis Family Trusts".

Now 39th on the 2023 Sunday Times Rich List, with an estimated net worth of £5bn, his sporting interests beyond football are mainly in golf and sailing.

He sponsors the Tavistock Cup, counts Tiger Woods and South African golfer Ernie Els among his friends, and bought a 321ft superyacht called Aviva in 2017.

Superyacht Aviva owned by Joe Lewis moored on the River Thames in central London

'Doesn't like talking to people'

Despite ostentatious levels of wealth, he is reportedly shy. His daughter Vivienne, from his first marriage, once told a newspaper he "doesn't like to talk to people" because "it aggravates him".

His nickname, "The Boxer", comes only from the similarity between his name and that of American boxing legend Joe Louis.

In an interview with The New York Times, he said: "One of the rewards of your success is the quiet enjoyment of it. Being on the front page of a newspaper doesn't allow that."

His business decisions haven't always been a success, however.

He suffered up to $1bn (£774m) in losses after US investment bank Bear Stearns collapsed during the financial crisis. His takeover of the prestigious British auction house Christie's also failed.

More recently his Lake Nona development in Orlando Florida lost a deal with Disney, which would have seen 2,000 employees moved there.

As an art collector he has acquired works by the likes of Picasso, Matisse, Freud and Bacon.

IS IT TIME FOR THE BEHEADINGS NOW, LEFTIES? OR IS IT RIGHTIES?

History time. The origins of the CIA, the OSS, Operation Paper Clip, the vast influence of the Dulles Brothers, and this European influence on Argentina's true history.

How To Whiten A Country: Why Anti-blackness Runs Deep In Argentina

Dulles Name Meaning, Family History, Family Crest & Coats of Arms

I decided to drop this post to make a very big point. Acosia Cortez, AOC and a caravan of Leftists recently took a trip to South America, in order to 'help' the economic and immigration situation (which VP Harris has been working on with success for two years, now) but to also condemn the U.S. for actions dating back over 50 years ago. While I agree that grievances deserve to be heard, I'll bet $1000 none of the Social Dems ever directly met and spoke with President Biden and VP, before going on television, to inflame the public. They also ignore, as the videos above show, the extensive European influences in South America. Why is that?

[47-shades-of-hitman]

In Your Likeness | Chapter 1 - Common grounds

Chapter 1 | Common grounds

Chapter warnings: Violence, blood, political conflict

For all tags, see AO3 : GoingHaywire

For more information, join my Hitman related Discord server

“Welcome to Jerusalem, 47.” Diana Burnwood’s voice stated through Agent 47’s earpiece. He stood as usually taciturn and obedient, analysing his surroundings. On the expanse of his head laid a kippah, donned as a distraction, out of place compared to the crisp black suit barely matching it.

But then, men of Jewish descent had no set appearance, so no one would question him too much. Not when he was in the holiest city of them all.

“Before you, you see the building of The Knesset, which holds the unicameral legislative branch of the Israeli government. Naturally, a restless country like this one has a fair bit of security around its political buildings. Despite its youth, this land holds secrets, one of them going by the name of Ewald Cohen. A powerful Jewish man, currently seeking aid for a wicked plan dabbling into force-migration. Long story short, he pleas for a Palestinian removal act. Our client wants him out of business, as to be expected. And so, it shall be done. Good luck, 47. And remember, I know it’s unlike you, but no unnecessary blood, especially not in there. It would mean a lockdown of the city, and the last thing we need is ourselves blowing our own cover.”

Agent 47 let his icy eyes take in every inch of the building before him – yellow brick, like a large box placed in the middle of a city, yet it had something of a temple – something ancient, like Jerusalem itself. He was not one for pretty architecture, though found interest in knowing how to get in – and out.

The way he looked now, he knew there would be no way that he could get past security without being frisked – if he took the main entrance, that was. Metal-detecting gates would be too troublesome at the moment. And without the correct papers, he wouldn’t get past the front desk, not with all those guards around.

The first thing one would notice was the plenty presence of soldiers, standing on watch. Judging by the stance of one of the younger men, 47 deduced that the change might soon be there. He should take advantage of it, knock one of them out and don a disguise. In the crowd, he’d be hardly noticed.

Deciding it the best approach, he made his way to a more secluded area, successfully knocking out a guard after distracting him, and put on his uniform. He discarded of his suit and the kippah by stuffing them into the stranger’s backpack, hiding the unconscious body of the soldier in the shrubbery. 47 brought the backpack with him, going forth.

In the distance, doors opened. Right in time, he thought to himself, creeping back to the place where the guard had stood. A new row of guards went up to the ones standing at the gates, freshly uniformed and without dark circles under their eyes, like the ones that the men at the gate had been sporting.

A wordless exchange, 47 mimicked his temporary peers with a gesture to the side of the head, saluting them. One of them raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the piercing blue eyes meeting his.

But then, the IDF stood never still in the stream of new guards, with drafted soldiers in their late teenage years obligated to serve a short time. There would be new recruits every time of day, so there lingered no long suspicion.

He followed them inside, proceeding through the halls until they stopped at what seemed like a canteen. It had never been so easy to march into such an important building with an automatic weapon in hand.

“I hadn’t noticed you taking over Adam’s shift.”

Agent 47 had already taken off the boots he had been wearing - a size too small - when he noticed that he was being spoken to. Before him stood a young man, no older than twenty-five, a toothpick between his chapped lips.

“Oh, yes. Adam felt ill so I was sent to take his place.”

“I don’t recognise you.”

“I haven’t been here for long.”

“You don’t seem to be drafted, either. What’s a man of your age doing in the lowest rank?”

47 sighed, feigning exhaustion. “Listen, yadid. I’ve been standing all day and I’m tired.”

The young man let out a scoff. “I’m not your friend, old man. Well then, guess your age is getting the better of you. Have fun returning home with your walking stick.”

“Shlomo!” a man of higher status called, sending him a warning glare. “Stop picking on our new recruits.”

With a shake of his head, the young soldier named Shlomo, so it seemed, stalked off.

Agent 47 was soon done dressing himself, hiding his pistol in the safety of his suit. He arose and set to the exit, pushing way through the business of the canteen, ignoring cheers to stay a bit longer, and was soon standing in the main hall.

A trained hitman like him had no trouble in making his way to the conference room. Diana stated through his earpiece that it would be plausible that the target would be roaming around there, for she had figured out that his so called bill of Palestinian removal was moving up in the list of cases to be discussed.

47 moved stealthily through the halls, successfully knocking out every burden in his way. He remembered what Diana had said – no unnecessary damage, just Mr Cohen. This city was desired and dangerous, and he knew. Any other important politicians meeting their end would mean disaster. Not that 47 ever caused collateral damage, anyway, unless utterly necessary.

A waft of the smell of blood pricked in his nose when he turned the corner, immediately pressing himself against the wall to eventually stay out of someone’s line of sight. Silence, but the scent was there, and he was certain that it didn’t come from his own doing.

“Tread carefully, 47.” he heard through his earpiece, his handler noticing as well that something was off. The smell, the eerie silence, almost as unnatural as 47’s own movements, stiff and overly calculated.

Something was not right. The air was denser than usual, for where he was usually the threat, he experienced uneasiness, like he was in danger as well.

It was a feeling unfamiliar to him – what was causing him such a notion?

Then, noise from the room where he was creeping next to.

He proceeded on through the hall, momentarily focussing on what was going on in the adjacent room. Noise, albeit stifled. A whimper, though muffled, so it seemed. Footsteps… He pressed himself against the wall a bit tighter, trying to listen in on what was going on in the main room.

A soft rustle of fabric whilst someone slipped through the heavy doors at the end of the hallway, closing them as quietly as they could.

Clad in dark, supple cotton and leather, hooded, a pine-green sash hanging over one of their shoulders. The insignia on the fabric was immediately recognisable. From under the hood, a pair of piercing eyes shimmered as they moved to look behind them, alarmed by his proximity.

Agent 47 moved instantly, alerted by their presence. This had never happened before, despite the feud he had sometimes heard about. Now that he encountered one of them for himself, things ought to get clearer. He didn’t hesitate to draw his gun, silencer tightly screwed onto the front.

The stranger had noticed him, too. A small, silver handgun laid in a gloved hand, barrel pointed right at him.

“Well, well…” the figure stated, female, judging by the sound and pitch. “How interesting. A hitman and an Assassin walk into a foreign parliament building. Says one to the other—”

“Who are you?” 47 interrupted, making the Assassin chuckle.

“No, you’re ruining my joke. Says one to the other—”

Agent 47 clicked the safety off of his gun. “I asked you something.”

She stepped closer, the sound of her thigh-high boots muffled against the carpet. “Let me counter that question, sir .” Her voice was thick with disdain. “You work for the ICA, do you not? Actually, don’t answer that question, I know you do.”

She halted in front of him, their guns still aimed at each other. She sniffed nonchalantly. “Do you see this insignia, sir?” She pointed at the buckle on her belt, then the one on the gauntlet around her arm. Its blade was stained with fresh blood.

“The Brotherhood of Assassins.” 47 said.

“Correct. Listen, sir. I know what you’re here for, but I suggest that you walk straight out of that door. I arrived here first. Deed’s already done.”

Agent 47 held his stoic expression, unfazed by the gun aiming at him. It wasn’t like his opponent was scared, either.

“Who is your contract?” he asked her.

“Does it matter? Whoever you’re after, they’re dead. Get out, before I stain the carpet unnecessarily. Would be a shame if your pretty eyes were to be closed forever, too. Poor Mr Rosenthal didn’t know what was coming to him. He had nice eyes as well. They’re dull, now.”

47 pressed the barrel of his silencer against her forehead. With a gentle nudge, he forced the hood off her head. It revealed the female Assassin to be younger than him, (h/c) hair conveniently pulled back into a braid.

“Shoot me, then. It would be unwise, though. The world lacks good Assassins.”

It was almost sickening, the way this woman lacked fear of death despite being so intimately involved with it. She spread her arms, dropping her gun to the ground. “Go on.” she pressed.

Agent 47 narrowed his eyes. Why wouldn’t he? Her (h/c) hair framed her taunting face, a wicked smirk spreading over her lips. “You’re hesitating…” She pressed her forehead a bit firmer against the gun. “Why… Are you… Hesitating…?” Her voice had become a whisper.

Agent 47 tilted his head slightly, taking her in completely, trying to calculate her next move. The odds were all against her, so why was she so cocky? Her (e/c) eyes shimmered in the dim light of the spots mounted on the wall, playful almost, careless.

“I thought your Brotherhood trained more capable Assassins.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m the best one they have, mind you.”

“Hence the way you act.”

She let out a chuckle and pursed her lips slightly. “Oh, alright… I know when I can take risks. Really, mister. I suggest you turn around and walk out that door, because I am not afraid of you.”

Slowly, he lowered the barrel of his gun. Gaze fixated upon her still, he took a step back. He towered well above her, yet she knew no fear of death. Quite the contrary, she laughed it in its face.

Agent 47 sighed, gesturing at the door leading away from him. “Get out now and I’ll let you live.”

The Assassin remained nailed to the ground, hands folded on her back now, staring at him unfazed.

“It’s officially against the rules to kill people who aren’t involved with the target.” he dryly stated,

“Let me guess. The unofficial version is a lot bloodier?”

“No one will question my disposal of one of a rival organisation’s puppets.”

“Says the man working for the ICA. If there’s a puppet here, it’s you.”

For a split second, it threw him off-guard, something that had never happened before – but now it did, and before he could bash the back of his gun against her temple to knock her out, he was blinded by thick, grey smoke. He coughed, disoriented, staggering backwards as a light laugh echoed through the halls, just as taunting as her gaze had been.

“Too late…” she sang, “Sorry, should’ve pulled the trigger. By the way, you aren’t the only one with rules like those. The reason why I let you live. Don’t forget to close the door after you leave, sir. It would be disastrous for the electricity bill.” The sound of her boots was faintly audible, and when the smoke died down, 47 remained on his own, opting to not go after her.

He straightened his tie, sighed deeply, and proceeded to push on through his mission.

“What can you tell me about her?” he quizzed Diana when he was about to push open the doors.

“She comes from the Brotherhood of Assassins. I believe she’s from the (L/n) bloodline. The ICA has encountered them more than once. Truly dangerous, those ones. I suggest you keep an eye out, 47. You never know who lingers in the shadows.”

He wrapped his gloved hand against the handle of the door, holding his gun close as he pushed it open.

“Didn’t she mention a contract named Rosenthal? Who was that target?”

“Yes, she must’ve mistakenly thought that your contract was on his head, as well. No, Ser Isaac Rosenthal is – or was, in better terms now - a Templar mole infiltrating the Israeli government. Turns out, they have found out his true identity. As you know, the Templars are the sworn enemies of the Brotherhood of Assassins. Focus on the matter at hand, 47. You should hurry now, before people come looking at what’s going on.”

The stench of blood became even more pungent when 47 pushed on through the heavy doors, being met with several dead bodies, adorned with red slits on their throats. Carefully, he stepped over the corpses, identifying them one by one.

“None of them is Cohen.”

“That means that she hasn’t stolen our kill. That precludes further feud along this path. So, I suggest you make haste. This is taking way longer than it should and people will catch up.”

The agent walked out of the room again, seeing no other exit than the one where he entered. He went to the large hallway again, trying to blend in as well as he could. Where he had left his soldier’s disguise to be in the hallway right in the army’s canteen, he now chose the façade of a rich businessman.

Scanning the crowd, he tried to find Ewald Cohen. It wouldn’t be too difficult, for the man’s bulky build could hardly be missed. Somewhere in the back of the building, he could hear people panicking, presumably caused by the finding of five dead men.

“Find him, 47, and be quick.” Diana spurred on before the line quieted again.

It took a few minutes to find Cohen’s office, where said man was dictating a letter to his secretary. The young woman penned along rapidly, frightened to lose her job if she didn’t.

“…However, where the amendment of freedom lay, I must counter that we are a state of sovereignty and thus allowed to proceed with removing… Hey, what was that?”

The clink of the coin 47 had tossed onto the tiles pulled him out of his speech. “Go look.” he ordered his secretary, sighing as she stalked off to check out the noise. Cohen sat in his chair, folding his hands on his large stomach. His chair creaked dangerously and the man seemed out of breath from just walking.

With an aim like no other, 47 pointed his gun at the hook of the painting that hung on the wall above Cohen’s desk. He took his shot – the hook broke and the large canvas fell onto the bookcase below with a dry thud.

Ewald looked behind him, eyes widening at the sight of the canvas toppling over, crashing down on top of him. The chair creaked under the unfamiliar pressure, finally giving out. Cohen fell from his seat, landed on his butt and thus, cracked his spine. The weight of the painting suffocated him, killing him in mere seconds.

The secretary returned richer a penny – the sound that left her throat proved imminent doom. Silently, the Agent who just successfully killed his target slipped out of the room, away from possible suspicion.

“Ewald Cohen is eliminated. Good work 47. Now, proceed to leave the building, and make sure that you aren’t caught.”

47 frowned, unsure of why Diana would add such a thing after her sentence. She never told him to watch out after an elimination, trusting him to be discreet as always.

He slinked up a few flights of stairs, trying to act natural whenever he passed by some people. His strangely stiff composure would give him away one day.

The door to the rooftop wasn’t too hard to find, marked with a unevenly blinking exit-sign right above. He went through it, hearing it click in its lock behind him. Upon stretching his shoulders to prepare himself for his climb down, a voice behind him spoke;

“Why didn’t you do it?”

Agent 47 had his hand on his gun right away, aiming it at the source of the disturbance. There she stood again, unfazed by the threat of death, (h/c) locks blowing in the wind. The light of the lowering sun cast a curious hue over the odd scene.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” she clarified.

“I am aiming my gun at you right now.”

“That’s beside the point. You didn’t do it before, and that’s interesting.”

47 took off the safety. “I should have.”

The woman smiled, her eyes shimmering with amusement. “Oh, please. There’s no suspense. No build-up leading to an all-concluding finale. No stand-off, no time-pressure.”

Diana’s voice interrupted the Assassin’s monologue. “What is taking you so long? A car is waiting for you.”

“I’ve ran into a bit of trouble. I’ll be right there.”

The woman scoffed, smirking. “A bit of trouble, you say? Is that all I am to you? I am offended… Thoroughly.”

“The rival Assassin…” Diana deduced, “Let her be. We don’t need another war right now for the world’s sake.”

He lowered his gun at Ms. Burnwood’s command.

“What is your name?” Assassin (L/n) asked him.

“Names are for friends.”

She stepped closer, once again halting at an arm's-length away from him.

“In that case, my name is (Y/n) (L/n).”

She held out her hand, waiting for 47 to shake it.

He eyed it, and then took it, unsure of what to respond.

“So, what’s your name?” she repeated.

“I don’t see why that is any of your business.”

Diana grew impatient. “Will you hurry?” she rarely lost her composure like that – perhaps it was the sudden appearance of the Brotherhood of Assassins.

Agent 47 just kept standing like he did, releasing her hand, frozen in place.

“Whatever your name is, I have a message for you.”

(Y/n) leaned closer, decreasing the volume of her voice to a whisper. “You’re in my country now. This is my city, these are my streets, and whatever Templar activity you’re involved in, I will shut down personally. The ICA claims neutrality, but I know better. You shouldn’t mess with the Brotherhood of Assassins, agent.”

She deeply inhaled, looking him in the eye. “If I see you once more, I will kill you.”

(Y/n) stepped back slowly, and then a bit quicker. “Hope we’ll never run into each other again.”

She ran to the end of the building, flinging herself off the side, gloved fingers soon gripping the edge, disappearing out of sight.

He clenched the gloved hand she had shaken into a fist, whispering a reply. “Likewise, Miss (L/n). That fate will do all to prevent that from happening.”

He was unsure of why he said that, for it could be taken two ways – that fate would prevent them from meeting again, or that it would prevent her statement from coming true.

Whatever it was and whatever caused the foreign twist in his stomach, he knew that he had to move again soon before Diana would call again and cause a scene at his unusual tardiness.

Spinning on his heel, he walked to the edge, onward.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Forbidden Notes: Hugo x Fem!Jewish!Reader

TW: Gestapo/holocaust

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)  

Requested by @kabutosfatcock ____________ You and Hugo were married, and since he was not Jewish, your marriage would have been considered 'privileged,' but, you did not go down without a fight. You were marked as a political criminal instead, associated with rebels since 1933. You'd been outspoken. You'd been loud. If you hadn't been, you might have been safe now, on account of being married to one Hugo Stiglitz. But you couldn't abide by that silence. Silence, you knew, could kill just as much as loose lips could. And for the lives you'd saved, you were targeted. You were on wanted lists. And, you had been, for quite a long time. 

1943

You’d ‘disappeared’ some time ago. Only two people knew where you really were. Hugo was one, of course. The other was a close friend of his named Matz. Hugo had been arrested for killing 13 gestapo officers. Your home was raided. Only Hugo's knives and guns were found. In such an event, Matz was supposed to make sure you got away in case things went wrong for Hugo. Whether Matz got there in time, Hugo didn't know. He could only hope you found a safe place to hide. No matter what they did to Hugo as they interrogated and tortured him, he never said a word that would hint anything about your whereabouts. He gasped for air, watching through weary eyes as his blood spilled onto the floor, and orders and questions were drilled into his ringing ears. None of that mattered. Not a lash, not a drop of his own blood mattered to him. He took every beating, every scream, and every moment of torture, without saying a word that could be used against you. You were his wife, and he loved you with all his heart.

A file was thrown at Hugo, as another gestapo officer walked in, "You sent a few boxes to America, two years ago, Hugo. Any particular reason?" He lied again, and said something about an aunt who'd moved to Chicago about 20 years earlier, being down on her luck. All he'd sent were some spare clothes, things she might need. He was beaten again, and left face down, on a red splattered concrete floor. The truth was this: Two years earlier, you and Hugo saw where things were heading. Germany was no longer safe, and Hugo wasn't willing to wait. He'd sent a trunk of the bare essentials. Photographs, documents, mementos...things any young, newly wed couple would wish to keep. He sent these things away to his aunt, who really had been living in Chicago for 20 years or so...but Hugo had planned to sneak you out of Germany, after hiding for a year. Time had not been kind, and fate had been cruel. You had to go into hiding in your own home, and Hugo had to build a whole charade around your disappearance over two year's time, making it seem as you'd really gone away. The officer kicked Hugo over. He lay there, his eyes heavy, sleep deprivation and pain turning his vision hazy as he looked up at the bright lamps. The officer grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up, muttering, "Tell us what we want to know, and we'll go easy on you. We send you off to Berlin, and it'll all be over, like this-" He snapped his fingers, signaling a path to a quick, relatively less painful way to die. Hugo grew enraged at the very idea: Getting an easy way out in exchange for your life? Never. He spat blood into the nazi's eye. The nazi dropped Hugo in disdain, cursing, as he wiped blood away from his eyes. "If you do, Y/n will be spared." "Y/n goes free..." Hugo had lost so much blood and so much hope, he believed them for a moment. But he saw the scowls and heard the cackles. He went numb, realizing he'd just blown your cover. He'd just confirmed you never left Germany at all. The officer  turned to the guards, with a pleased smirk, "Search the house again." "We haven't found anything." "Then burn it down." Hugo scraped together what little strength he had left, and lashed out, taking down two of the guards. But it wasn't enough. They already had what they wanted: a death sentence for Hugo in Berlin, and confirmation that you were still somewhere in your home. Hugo was taken to a cell, and would be moved to Berlin in the morning.

Hugo knew even if he escaped, he would quickly be caught again. Even so, he couldn't get far. His only hope was that his friend, Matz, would get to you in time. Even then, Hugo blamed himself for it all. He knew he was nothing without you by his side. The worst part was he had no answers, and he'd die not knowing if you got away in time. But, one answer came up, moments later as shots were fired down the prison halls. He initially didn't care to glance up. Whatever was coming didn't concern him, he was sure. But he was wrong. Nine basterds stood before his cells. One stepped forward, asking if he wanted to go pro in the nazi killing business. His mind was on one thing, and one thing only: You. He could do more for the world by hunting nazis than he could as a dead man...and if he could do it all for you, he would. A simple, silent nod sealed Hugo's fate. Another year passed since then.

The basterds were deep behind enemy lines, somewhere in the  French wilderness at the moment, tracking and hunting down every nazi patrol that they could. One patrol in particular that they caught caused Hugo to snap. He recognized one of the faces. "You." Hugo marched over to the man he'd known all his life: Matz. Matz, a childhood friend. Matz, the closest thing Hugo had to a brother most of his life. Matz, the only one who knew Hugo's secrets: He wasn't a real nazi. And you had never left home. There he was, an enlisted officer now. Matz, now a nazi. Blood on his hands. Matz knew there was no saving himself, because he knew Hugo. And he knew Hugo loved you more than life itself. So he admitted all he had to: "It was her life or mine." Matz seethed, not an ounce of regret in his eyes, as Hugo approached with a bloodthirsty glare. Hugo beat him relentlessly, demanding answers. Demanding to know where you were, what exactly happened that night. Matz' nose was broken, his eyes were black and swollen, and some of his teeth were littered on the ground. Blood poured from his nose and mouth as he sobbed, "ICH WEISS ES NICHT." "I DON'T KNOW" Hugo didn't believe a word Matz said. None of the other basterds asked any questions. They didn't even ask Wicki to translate. They just watched in awe, realizing Hugo was only beginning. He took out his knives, searching for the answers he couldn't get from Matz. But, by the time Hugo was done, the knives were drenched, and blunt, and Matz was no more. Aldo left no survivors that night. Hugo didn't ask for that, but Aldo was sure it was for the best. Whatever had happened, Aldo did it out of respect.

Hugo sat off on his own that night, quietly, as though nothing had happened, as he sharpened his knives. He lit a cigarette, and glanced at the sky. No one ever knew quite what he was thinking, and though sometimes it was an advantage for him...sometimes it was quite lonely. Especially when he remembered the only one who could tell what he was thinking all the time was you. He felt alone. Angry. Resenting himself, he again ran through all the things he could have done to save you, and inevitably tormented himself with the ceaseless thoughts of what could have happened to you, wondering if he'd ever really know. It was all too much, as he struck down his knife, lodging it into the tree stump he was sitting on.

The rest of the basterds were far enough in the distance where he couldn't hear them, and they couldn't see he was a little more wired than usual. "So....what was that about..." Smitty took a  piece of chocolate before passing the bar down to Omar. Hirschberg shrugged as he then took the chocolate from Omar, "I don't speak German or nothin'...but I'm pretty sure I heard them both sayin' "Y/n" about a thousand times. It's a name, ain't it?" WIcki sighed, having heard the story from Hugo himself, months ago. "His wife." "Hugo's married?" "How does a man with the conversational skills of a rock get that far with a woman?" "You're serious, Wicki?" Wicki nodded, "Her name was Y/n. She was Jewish." Donny noted Wicki said 'was.' Past tense... Donny glanced briefly at Hugo, who was but a shadowy figure in the distance. He turned back, and looked down with a shade of empathy, though his grip around his bat tightened as he glanced at the names on the bat, murmuring, "Y/n...Hugo's wife..." Wicki didn't say anything else. Frankly, that was all he had to say for the basterds to understand a whole new side of Hugo. Well... to understand the side of Hugo they knew. No one ever asked any question about it again. How could they? How could they blame him? They didn't know anything other than your name, but were certain he loved you. And...not a moment went by in his days that he didn't think of you. This day especially. He sat there, on the tree stump, burning through his cigarette, he lit another one, without a sound aside from the clink from the lighter. As he put it back into his chest pocket, his thumb brushed against a small scrap of paper. He sighed with a heavy heart, knowing that paper by memory. Every crease, every tear, every single word, and a tiny blot from a stray raindrop. He could remember the phone number written on the back of the sub. Every curve and line of every number permanently etched into his memory, He knew every last detail by heart. And yet, he looked at it every time he felt furthest from you, because that tiny scrap of paper was the closest thing he had to you. It was a ticket stub to an underground club. Secret, hidden, and forbidden. It's only form of entertainment was swing music, which had been banned. That was where he met you... and that was your very first date. He smiled for a brief, infinitesimal moment, which pained him beyond belief, as he set his eyes on the ticket stub. He slipped it back into his pocket, though even when he shut his eyes, he could still see it. He could see the line of young people ahead of him, eager to get into the forbidden club. He could see the moment he first spotted you, just ahead, when you smiled at him. He could see the moment you approached him, and took his hand for the very first time, leading him to a dance.  The moment he saw your eyes light up with those forbidden notes and songs. The moment you convinced him to dance... The moment his life became yours, and yours became his. ***Months Later*** Hicox blew his German act. "Say auf wiedersehen to your nazi balls." With that, the tavern was sprayed red in blood. The gunshots alerted not only the basterds, but a team of agents working with the MI6 that the British had sent to assist the lone OSS operative, last minute. So last minute, that Bridget, Wicki, Hugo, and Archie were unaware of the extra unit's assistance. That unit, unknown to the basterds trapped in the tavern, legally did not exist. Legally, some of the members of your team were dead, including you.  All documents and messages regarding the team, The Resurgent,  were kept in a vault, somewhere underground, some place in England. Each and every document was classified, and most of the documents detailing their work had been mostly redacted. The Resurgent: This was your team. This was a band of double agents, soldiers, and talents who were either left behind, fell off the grid, or thought to be dead. This was the team that you called family from the moment you left Frankfurt, believing Hugo to be dead. This was the team who you faced certain death with. A hideout nestled in the most populated, busiest side of Paris...so obvious no one would think to look. That was the place you and your team called home. Only recently had you heard of this American outfit called the basterds. So recently, you only arrived to the village of Nadine, a moment or two before hearing shots fired in the tavern. Your team moved toward the tavern, along with the basterds in what you would later realize was a turning point not only in history, but in your story. **** Among all the ringing in his ears and the shots and the screams and the shattering glass, Hugo heard something else. He heard the bells from the door upstairs ringing. But, he was too tired and weak to look to the stairs. He slumped down  in a corner, bleeding through a stolen uniform, shakily raising his gun to fire one last shot. You were the third or fourth Resurgent to make it into the tavern, and you scanned the area. In a moment, your heart dropped, and you couldn't seem to breathe. You saw a familiar face in a stolen uniform. "Hugo..." You knelt by him, seeing his bloody fist clenched around something, resting over his heart. You held his hand, and found something you never imagined. It was a ticket stub, from your very first date, with your old phone number on it. A forbidden note for a forbidden love. You took a breath, both heart broken, and filled with hope all at once. You put it back in his pocket, "Oh Hugo..." He managed to open his eyes, and saw you hovering over him. Startled, his eyes went wide. In his mind, it was the ghost of you, taking his hand through a gentle death, But you wouldn't let him off so easily. You looked at him, tears welling in your eyes, though you clenched your jaw, and quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. There'd be time enough for that later. You pulled Hugo up, and draped his arm over your shoulders. It was then that Hugo realized you were as real as the bullet in his side. He smiled again, though his arm instinctively pressed against his wound, his other arm wrapped around you tightly, as he gave it his all to walk with you, and walk away from the grip of death. He saw you every night in his dreams. But this was clearer than anything he'd ever seen in his mind, either in a nightmare or his most carefree daydream... This was the dream that couldn't be. Your smile was brighter than it had been in any memory, your hands softer than they could be in any dream, and your voice clearer than it could be in any hallucination. "It's you..." He stood still for a moment, looking at you, though he seemed as though he would collapse.  Not because of the blood... but because it was because it was you. It was really you. You set him down gently, outside of the tavern, while other agents helped Bridget, Wicki, and Archie out. You crouched by Hugo, your hands resting against his face. He whispered, with gentle eyes, and a subtle grin, "Du bist lebendig." 'You're alive.' You nodded, as you started to tend to his wound, 'So are you...' "It was Matz. He betrayed us. He-" Hugo started to get worked up, breathing heavily, until you pulled him back down before he could hurt himself. "They couldn't take me away from you. This bullet won't take you from me." As the basterds scrambled to get everyone out and away from the tavern before more nazis arrived, Wicki laughed through the pain, "Told you Hugo was really married." If Hugo hadn't been wounded, he would've laughed. But he didn't. He smiled softly, though, as he reached his hand up to your face, and nodded once to himself, as if confirming it was really you. Your eyes were the very same eyes he saw on that first date. Your kind (worried) smile was the same as it was every time Hugo clumsily hurt himself (which was surprisingly often, though he never let on around the basterds.) Your nose was the same nose he used to peck softly each morning before work. Now, as Operation Kino carried on, you and your team watched over the wounded basterds. You stayed by his side. Who better than you? You were by Hugo's side the day the world fell apart. You were there when the world went to war. And now that time seemed to slow down once again, you were still there. And you were there when Hugo, and every other basterd, got the medal of honor.

"Think your aunt will be upset that we're a little late?" "We're only..." he shrugged, as he looked down at his watch, "Three years late." "Oh, is that all?" You laughed, as you wrapped your arms around him. Hugo was quieter than he used to be. He had scars you didn't recognize, and stories he might not tell you for a few years. But, he held you tightly, as he always had before. And when Hugo looked down at you with the same old smile that kept your hope alive in your dreams, he still had that love in his eyes. The same love as the day he first danced with you. If he had to do it all again, just to be with you, he would. You looked around at the sea of reporters, families, and basterds. You watched as balloons floated to the sky, camera flashes went off, and confetti and fallen streamers adorned the ground. A band began to play notes that weren't so forbidden here You kissed Hugo, and he kissed you. You'd never have to go through it again. You'd never have to be apart either. Some things wouldn't be the same. But, as long as you had Hugo, there would come a day when the world seemed to be pieced back together. Until then, you both held on to each other, knowing no one could ever take you away from each other again.

[josephloegering]

Many Hebrew sites went down with Facebook

Warning: The US and NATO and Zionist State Medias are run by Antisemitic Democratic Communist, fake Christians and fake Jews and fake Muslims, Criminal Stalkers and Computer Hackers,  violating US and NATO and Zionist State Court and Doctors Orders, and force vaccinating and force drugging their Victims with everything on their Allergy Lists, screaming that they have no legitimate Medical or Religious reason, to reject their Mandated Toxic Poison Vaccines, and Toxic Poison Drugs on our Allergy Lists, as all the the Medias lie saying is Misinformation, saying that we must suffer the consequences for telling the truth against their Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminal and War Criminal Soviet Communist Atheists and Homosexuals, lying claiming to be Jews and or Christians and Muslims, to mass murder the Religious Abraham's, like the Antisemitic Democratic Left Wing  Soviet Communist USSR Orthodox Russian Maccabees had done, attacking us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jews and Samaritans in Warsaw, trapping us in between them and  the Antisemitic Democratic Wing Wing Fascist Nazi German Maccabees Catholics and Lutherans

The Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminals and War Criminals on the Antisemitic   Democratic Facebook and in the Mainstream US and NATO and Zionist State Medias, say that I did not follow Facebook's Standard or Hate Speech, for telling the truth against their Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminal and War Criminal Soviet Communist Atheists and Homosexuals, lying claiming to be Jews and or Christians and Muslims, to mass murder the Religious Abraham's, like the Antisemitic Democratic Left Wing  Soviet Communist USSR Orthodox Russian Maccabees had done, attacking us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jews and Samaritans in Warsaw, trapping us in between them and  the Antisemitic Democratic Wing Wing Fascist Nazi German Maccabees Catholics and Lutherans, and like in Nazi German and Soviet Communist Pogroms, they refuse to arrest and try their Federal and  State and Privately Funded Antisemitic Hate Crime and War Crime Criminals, and refuse repeatedly to Redress our Just Grievances, like the Antisemitic  Democratic Dictators Joseph Stalin and Adolf Hitler

Repeatedly the US Police and FBI, seeing the Death threats sent through Facebook Chat, and sent to my Desktop by Hackers, sent from the Antisemitic Democratic Facebook's and CNN's Criminal  Stalkers and Hackers, that set me up to be force drugged, and disabled, and or murdered, on US Soil, because the letters were written in multiple languages,  the US Police and FBI, deliberately repeatedly  lied to me, saying Call Interpol,  saying that they had no Jurisdiction over Foreign Terrorists, not with more death threats from the US and Zionist  Governments' and Medias' International Criminal Terrorists, Interpol says:

"Report a crime

Criminal activity should be reported to your local or national police. INTERPOL does not carry out investigations or arrest people; this is the responsibility of national police."

https://tinyurl.com/38d9nbxt

The Antisemitic Democratic Soviet Communists run the 13רשת that hijacks your links, and computer, if you are an unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jew or Samaritan repeatedly trying to download Software, don't download it, it will hijack your enter Network for the Soviet Communism Ransom ware Criminals, nd CNN and Facebook had them lock me up, disabling me repeatedly, forcing upon me everything one that allergy list, and when I asked for a Hebrew Tanakh to read while force drugged and disabled me repeatedly for 9 months, saying that were Jewish Rabbis, they blocked me from Hebrew Jewish and Samaritan Scriptures, screaming, "What, you want a Hebrew Tanakh to Read? It would coast us tens of thousands of US Dollars, just to get you a Hebrew Torah to read", and they said that were not under Michigan State Court Jurisdiction, that an Ann Arbor VA Neurologist had order them not to give me any of the Vaccines or Drugs, so who is the Antisemitic Democratic Fake Jew Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminals and War Criminals?

Someone Hacked Facebook, and was targeting Jewish Scriptures Teachings, for the Communists in the Mainstream Medias, my Computer that runs in Hebrew,  was hacked at the same time, now as Facebook is down, as a cover for their Antisemitic Attacks, many Hebrew sites are down, and may other sites  no longer display Hebrew.

Many of Family Members and Neighbors were disabled and murdered by the Mainstream Medias' Flu and COVID Vaccines, that  have no positive benefits, they are fraud Vaccines, that  block none from getting infected by any Virus, like the real Vaccines for Mumps and Measles and Smallpox and Polio do, and the Antisemitic Democratic Communist run Medias and Corporations gave Jews no Medical Rights or Religious Right to reject their Toxic Poison Vaccines, that cause Autoimmune System like malfunctions, destroying diverse  body organs, as the eventually just fail, because the Mandated Toxic Poison Fraud Vaccines.

The ICIJ – an International Criminal Antisemitic Democratic  Network of Reporters and Journalists,  and International  Criminal Antisemitic Democratic Media Organisations, and the International  Criminal Antisemitic Democratic Mainstream Medias, and their  Criminal  Vigilante Computer Hackers, that took the Laws into their own hands, and without a public trial, saying that there must be consequences for People that threaten their Democratic Rule, and destroying the Free Speech, and the Right to the Free Press, of Multinational Peoples,   the afore mentioned International  Antisemitic Democratic Criminals installing the Communist Dictatorship, took down Facebook and many Websites, to silence Multinational Peoples Freedom of Speech, to force up us the Antisemitic Democratic Communist Dictatorship, that we voted not for, and gave them no consent to rule over us.

According t the Antisemitic Democratic Mainstream Medias, they took over Facebook because of the Whistle Blower, and they obviously  abused the Powers as Criminal Stalkers, targeting us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jews and Samaritans, that they repeatedly disabled and or murdered, with the Toxic Poison Vaccines and Drugs, that lie calling Safe and Effective, to attack all that don't want in the Anti Religion Antisemitic Democratic  Dictatorship State, that we voted not for, and gave no consent to rule over us.

None of the Antisemitic Democratic Journalists are Jewish, they are Antisemitic Democratic Soviet Communists, forcing upon us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jews and Samaritans their Antisemitic Democratic Dictatorship that outlawed the King mine Yahweh, and the throne mine David's as Antidemocratic like Democratic Nazi Germans and the Democratic Society Communists, bot did

As their Toxic Vaccines caused the rise of Autoimmune diseases and many other Toxic Vaccine and Toxic Drug and Toxic Food and Toxic Drink caused Diseases, are on the rise among 9/11 victims, and the first responders, and the General Public, but the Deadly dangerous Psychotic US and NATO and Zionist Governments, which runs the health-care programs hasn't acknowledged a link, preventing the Masses access to the things necessary to live among the Living, preventing the Masses access to Life, Liberty, and pursuit of happiness."

As Whistleblower against the Criminal Stalking and Antisemitisim done by the Mainstream Medias, controlling Facebook to repeatedly do their Antisemitic Hate Crimes, and blocking our Posts, violating our Rights to the Freedom of the Press, to hide their Antisemitic Hate Crimes, as they arm against us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding Jews and Samaritans, as they arm our Soviet Communist fake Jew, and Al Qaeda and Taliban and ISIS  enemies against us, refusing to Redress even one of our Just Grievances, like the Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminal and War Criminal  former Vice President Joe Biden that gave our Medical Records and Treatments to our Antisemitic enemies, and paid them to repeatedly lock us up without a Public Trial, to force drug and disable and or murder us like Nazi Germans

Mr President Joe Biden

I am Joseph R Loegering, the King Israel's, the Torah's Messiah

Mr President Joe Biden, you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, are hereby under arrest, for your Internal Antisemitic Hate Crimes, and for your Internal War Crimes

You as Vice Prescient failed to Redress even one of Just Grievances, failing to get our Medical Records and Treatments, out of the Hands of our Antisemitic Enemies

We are unarmed Hebrew Torah and abiding Jews and Samaritans, with all just Issues being still blocked from the US and Zionist State Medias, as like my Jewish and Samaritan friends, and again Mr President Joe Biden, like when you Vice President, I am being Criminally Stocked by your Antisemitic Criminal Allies, and my 1st Amendment Rights are being Violated by an Antisemitic Democratic Fraud Jewish Maccabees Government allied with US President Joe Biden, that repeatedly Blocked my sound pure Science Posts and Religious Posts from Facebook, to set up and mass murder my Jewish and Samaritan friends, like Maccabees Nazi Catholic Hitler, and Nazi Germany had done, and we demand that the Nuclear and WMD and Heavily Militant Armed US and Zionist State Government Disarm and Resign from Power, and report the Hague for Trial

Warning: We will not choose death, by Vaccination, nor will we choose death by the Communist Left Wing's Government's Mandated Vaccines, from the Minority 48% that want to force death upon us Unvaccinated that cannot take their Toxic Poison Vaccines, with their Communist Left Wing's Government's Mandated Vaccines, like Left Wing Communist forced death upon us, by Soviet Communist forced Medications, nor will we choose death by the Fascist Ring Wing's Business Mandated Vaccines, from the Majority 52% that want to force death upon us Unvaccinated that cannot take their Toxic Poison Vaccines, with their Fascist Ring Wing's Business Mandated Vaccines, like Right Wing Fascist Nazi Germans, forced death upon us, by Nazi German forced Medications, and we demand all that necessary to keep the Uninfected Unvaccinated and the Uninfected Vaccinated from getting infected, by the Infected Vaccinated infecting the Uninfected Unvaccinated and the Uninfected Vaccinated, with their new Mutant Stains that the Vaccinated are Producing, because like the fully Vaccinated with two Pfizer COVID-19 Shots, in Zionist State, with Heart inflammation, and Swollen Lymph Nodes, and damaged Kidneys, and Shingles like Rashes, caused by as their Toxic FDA approved Pfizer Vaccine and Drug Additives, as the fully Vaccinated are being Hospitalized with Breakthrough Infections, and Dying in escalating numbers, because they were Vaccinated wearing their scientifically proven failing ineffective Masks, and were Vaccinated with FDA approved Toxic Poisons, vaccinating them with their scientifically proven Toxic Poison unsafe and ineffective Toxic failing COVID-19 Vaccines, and failing Toxic Booster Shots, and their Toxic FDA approved scientifically proven Toxic Poison unsafe and ineffective and failing Drugs, and their Toxic FDA approved scientifically proven Toxic Poison Foods, and their Toxic FDA approved scientifically proven Toxic Poison Drinks.

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern;

I am Joseph R Loegering, the King Israel's, the Torah's Messiah

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, outlawed our Hebrew and Chaldee Scriptures' Dwelling and Hospital and Financial Systems, and replaced them with your Antisemitic Hospitals and your Antisemitic Usury Bankers and your Antisemitic Usury Bankers' Owned Dwellings, and Business, and Hospitals

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, violated and outlawed both the Pagan Democratic State's US Constitution's Gold Standard, and violated and outlawed Hebrew Jewish and Samaritan Torah's Silver's Shekel Weight monetary system, with your allied Antisemitic Democratic States' Paper Federal Reserve Notes and fake Jew counterfeit Paper Shekels call the New Israeli Shekels

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, outlawed our seven seventh year releases from Debts, and our Fiftieth Year's Jubilee's, and you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, violated and outlawed our Mishnah our Hebrew Calendar and Records, and our 49 Mishnah from our Mishnah seven sevens years, and our Jubilee's Census Mishnah done every Fiftieth Year since Adam as year one, in the Garden Eden, that your outlawed and replaced with your false Prophet Antisemitic Antichrist Maccabees Catholic Popes' Julian and Georgian Calendars

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, outlawed our Hebrew and Chaldee Scriptures' Schools and Apprenticeships, and our Fuels and Trades, and replaced them with your Antisemitic Evolutionist and Alchemist Public and Private Schools, and your Military Complexes' Antisemitic Evolutionist and Alchemist Schooling

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, have reduced us to an absolute state of despotism with your Antisemitic polarized opposing politics, and have repeatedly caused us more, and more, and more harm and or death, because you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, have repeatedly refuse and failed to hear, and repeatedly refuse and failed to Redress even one of our Just Issues, on our many, and repeated Just Petitions

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies have repeatedly disarmed, us unarmed Hebrew Torah Abiding Jews and Samaritans and the Muslims, and have repeatedly armed against us our enemy Antisemitic Taliban and Al Qaeda and ISIS and Egypt and Saudi Arabia, and have repeatedly armed against us our enemy Antisemitic Democratic fake Jew Maccabees Soviet Communist Zionists, and have repeatedly given our Names, and Ranks, and Birth Dates, and our Social Security Numbers, and our Medical Records and Treatments, and our Private and Public Records, to our Foreign and Domestic Antisemitic Democratic enemies upon US Soil, and upon all the Soils of all Nations abroad, and keep repeatedly refusing and failing to adequately, and to timely Redress even one of our Just Grievances

Mr President Joe Biden: You as Vice Prescient failed to Redress even one of Just Grievances, failing to get our Medical Records and Treatments, out of the Hands of our Antisemitic Enemies

Mr President Joe Biden, and Mr Jens Stoltenberg, and to the NATO State Rulers, and to Mr Isaac Herzog, and to whom it may concern; you and your US Government and your NATO and Zionist State Allies, are hereby under arrest, for your Internal Antisemitic Hate Crimes, and for your Internal War Crimes

We are unarmed Hebrew Torah and abiding Jews and Samaritans, with all just Issues being still blocked from the US and Zionist State Medias, as like my Jewish and Samaritan friends, and again Mr President Joe Biden, like when you Vice President, I am being Criminally Stocked by your Antisemitic Criminal Allies, and my 1st Amendment Rights are being Violated by an Antisemitic Democratic Fraud Jewish Maccabees Government allied with US President Joe Biden, that repeatedly Blocked my sound pure Science Posts and Religious Posts from Facebook, to set up and mass murder my Jewish and Samaritan friends, like Maccabees Nazi Catholic Hitler, and Nazi Germany had done, and we demand that the Nuclear and WMD and Heavily Militant Armed US and Zionist State Government Disarm and Resign from Power, and report the Hague for Trial

Warning: While the Warmongering US Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing and Right Wing Politicians, and their Allies, and their Satan's synagogue Warmongering Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing and Right Wing Medias are in Power Struggle, saying that must survive the Midterm Elections that we vote not in, because our Hebrew Torah outlawed voting for Rulers that are not Yahweh's chosen and anointed and appointed King upon the throne mine Abraham's and David's, and the US Antisemitic Hate Crime and War Criminal Government and Medias and the Allies, are still deliberately failing to hear, and deliberately failing to Redress even one of Just Grievances upon our Many, and repeated Petitions, for Redress of Grievances, we demand that the US Warmongering Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing and Right Wing Politicians and Allies, and their Warmongering Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing and Right Wing Medias, be removed from Power, and Arrested, and we demand that they stand Trial in the Internal Courts, for their repeated Antisemitic Hate Crimes, and for their repeated War Crimes, and for their repeated their Crimes against Humanity

Warning: The Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing Maccabees Catholic President Joe Biden, is responsible for spreading the COVID-19 Pandemic using the Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Right Wing Fascist President Donald Trump's fraud COVID-19 Vaccines, that do not block People from getting infected by the COVID-19 Virus like a real Vaccine would, and the Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Left Wing Maccabees Catholic President Joe Biden and his Satan's synagogue Medias, are responsible for the Deaths caused by the FDA approved Additives, causing people to develop Cancers, and Heart Disease from the Heart inflammation, and Swollen Lymph Nodes, and Shingles like Rashes, caused by the Toxic FDA approved Toxic COVID-19 Vaccine Additives, as their Toxic FDA approved Vaccine and Drug Additives cause all the Leading causes of Death upon the whole Globe

The Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminals and War Criminals Joe Biden and the Democratic and Medias, criminally stalking, and setting up. targeting and force vaccinating and force drugging unarmed Jews and Samaritans like the Nazi German Maccabee, as they go deeper in War Debts, making all Slaves to their Antisemitic Democratic States National Party's Debts, as they destroy the Global Markets for their own Political and Economic Gains at our expense, don't hesitate to arrest them, if and when enter your City, spreading the Pandemic with their Political Campaigns, and their Political Protests and Riots,  at our expense, as they hide the truth, that all the Maccabees abuse of Children, was done by the Anti American Antisemitic Democratic Communist Maccabees Catholic Homosexuals, that Maccabees Catholic Antisemitic Democratic  Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminals and War Criminals in the US and NATO and fake Jew  Maccabees Catholic Antisemitic Democratic State and their Medias armed against us unarmed Hebrew Torah abiding  Jews and Samaritans and Muslims

Warning: Don't let the Criminal Vaccinators say that failing Banks and falling Wall Street were caused by the Unvaccinated, the Warmongering the Nuclear and WMD and Heavily Militant armed Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Murderer Tyrant Vaccinator Dictators caused them to crash

Here in North Dakota, with only 31 Unvaccinated Hospitalized out of 971 Unvaccinated Infected, and 130 Vaccinated with one shot Hospitalized, out of 3, 297 Vaccinated with one Shot, that Poisoned and Disabled them, and got them Infected, besides the ones the Fraud COVID Vaccine Shots Killed, the US Government and CDC and FDA, and Medias are deliberately lying to the Public, to mass murder their Religious and Political Rivals, to force upon us the Antisemitic Democratic Dictatorship, like Nazi Germans and the Soviet Communists did

4,268 New Infections, 3,279 Vaccinated New Infection, only 971 Unvaccinated with a New Infection, making it so that if you take the Shot, you are more likely to get infected, because the Toxic Poison  Fraud COVID Vaccines poisoned your Immune System, as out of 4,268 New Cases, the  Hospitalized is 161, minus the 130 Vaccinated Hospitalized, equals 31  Unvaccinated Hospitalized, and out of the 4,268  New Cases, 3,279 are the Poisoned  Vaccinated, that were  Infected, because they were Poisoned by the Deadly dangerous Psychotic Vaccinators, trying to open their Societies for their own Political Economic Gains at our expense, as the Deadly dangerous Psychotic Vaccinator Politicians, and Journalists, and Doctors, and Sports Athletes, and Hollywood and Bollywood fallen Stars, block from the Unvaccinated what we need to keep from being Infected by their deliberately Poisoned and Infected Vaccinated

My Brother had serious Adverse Reactions to the J&J/Janssen Vaccine, and my Mother had serious Adverse Reactions to Pfizer Vaccine, because the Antisemitic Hate Crime Criminals  say that we have no Medical or Religious Rights to refuse their Mandated Vaccines

Along with many they call Jews, many of the Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Right and Left Wing Soviet Communist Russians and Antisemitic Antichrist Democratic Right and Left Wing Soviet Communist fake Jew Zionist, were poisoned by the Toxic US FDA approved Toxic Additives in the Russian Sputnik V vaccine, and in the Pfizer Fraud COVID Vaccine and un the Moderna Fraud COVID Vaccine

With all the Politicians and Medias and Sports Athletes having everyone that they might have contact with, both Tested and Vaccinated, while blocking us that cannot take their Fraud Toxic Poison Vaccines that don't stop any Virus, blocking us from what we need to keep us and our Families from getting infected by their extremely contagious COVID-19 Breakthrough Infections, and their extremely contagious secondary Contagious Pathogen infections, while they only reveal a few of mass numbers of Breakthrough Infection, that they get and spread with non essential activities, of spreading and forcing upon us the Antisemitic Democratic Politics and Dictatorships, like what infected the Fully Vaccinated U.S. Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh has tested positive for a COVID-19 Breakthrough Infection. like what infected Brazil's health minister Marcelo Queiroga, that tested positive for COVID at the U.N. General Assembly in NYC, Infecting both Vaccinated Diplomats and Vaccinated US Vaccinated and Unvaccinated New Yorkers, with a Strain from another Country, is another example of the none essential activates spreading their extremely contagious COVID-19 Breakthrough Infections, and secondary extremely Contagious Pathogen Infections

Because of the Diverse Types of Contagious Pathogens, that they are spreading by their non essential activities, because they made a five to seven week lockdown essential to Isolate the Infected, from the Infected, because their non essential activities kept spreading their Diverse Types of Contagious Pathogen Infections, and because they are still doing their non essential activities, and are still Spreading the COVID-19 Pandemic, and their Diverse Types of Contagious Pathogen Infections, for their own Political and or Economic Gains, at our expense, because they are non essential activities, non essential to surviving the Pandemic, and because they are activities that spread the Pandemic, across the entire Globe, disabling and mass murdering Multitudes, during the Rest of the Pandemic, to stop people from being infected and disabled and or killed by the infections, from their non essential activities, any Politician traveling from City to City, for his or her Political Campaign, and any Political Activist traveling from City to City, for his or her Political Rally, and any Protester traveling from City to City, for his or her Protest, and any Soldier from the lowest to the highest Rank, traveling from City to City, for his or her War, and any Medias' Media Journalist, traveling from City to City, for his or her Story, and any Star traveling from City to City, for his or her Show, and any Sports Participant traveling from City to City, for his or her Sports event, while you Isolate the Infected from the Uninfected in your City, those participating in those non essential travels from City to City, they must be blocked from entering your City, and must be arrested, and be jailed in Isolation Prison and Trail Camps, outside your City Boundary, and they must be charged, and be tried, and be hung, for their Mass Murders that they did by spreading the Pandemic, across the entire Globe

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Eight

A/N: *posts this chapter and runs away before anyone realizes its a week late* oh... well that didn’t work. Anyway... sorry about last week y’all. I don’t know why an atheist married to a jewish man picked easter weekend to fall off the schedule but that’s life i suppose. we’re back! we are...back. 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.* 

Summary: A trip to Corellia to offload their stolen speeders takes Navina and Firo through some of the shiftier parts of Coronet City before ending their trip with a visit to Firo’s family. Navina learns some shocking new information about her quest... and also misses something very important. 

Warnings: Ummmmmm i think this one’s fine actually.

Word Count: 4.3k

Corellia. 

Navina stuck close to Firo’s side as he expertly navigated the crowded streets of Coronet City. I hate it here. What remained of her armor after her encounter with the Mandalorian shifted in her bag as she walked, the pieces clanging together with each step. She noticed at least three pairs of eyes dart in her direction, the distinct metallic sound of beskar easily discernible to those who knew it’s exact value on the black market. Try it. Her grip tightened on the strap over her shoulder, her other hand casually hovering near the blaster on her thigh, conveniently concealed by her gray shawl. 

Lucky for them, the shifty looking Twi’lek and the two heavily tattooed Czerialan women he was with didn’t start any trouble, presumably keeping their eyes peeled for softer targets. And they’ll find them. With a population in the billions, Corellia had gained quite the reputation for being overrun with pickpockets, thieves, smugglers and desperate people willing to do desperate things. Which is why we’re here but…  She frowned, looking over at her friend. Next to her, Firo walked confidently, head held high and shoulders back, his stride deliberate and meaningful. I cannot believe he grew up here.  

Technically, Firo and his brother Leph had grown up in a smaller town just outside the city limits, their parents wanting them to have room to run and find the kind of trouble that wasn’t looking for them first. Between the Black Sun and the White Worms, the city was becoming less and less of a desirable place to raise children, both organizations known for recruiting their scrumrats young. Their parents both worked in the city, though, so staying close enough for a reasonable commute was necessary. Their mother, a brilliant woman, worked as a translator at the welcome center in Diadem Square, and their father had been a test pilot for one of the only Corellian shipyards that had been able to resist being converted into a TIE Fighter factory during the Empire’s reign. It was because of him that Firo had learned to fly. The man would occasionally take Firo and Leph up for a spin once he’d deemed the ships safe and in good working order. Leph had always been more interested in the engineering that powered them, eventually getting a job at the same facility, but Firo had fallen in love with flight from the first time he took off. 

Despite the fact that they had just turned the corner and crossed into Black Sun territory, Navina smiled to herself. She liked knowing things like that about Firo. Her own past wasn’t entirely without bright spots, but she found Firo’s anecdotes to be much warmer than most of her own. Aside from the memories she had of the few years she and her family were together on Yavin, her perception of what it was like to grow up in a domestic household had been built by her friend and his stories of having two parents and a bunk bed to share with his brother and a home that had a roof with four walls. She didn’t envy him, just enjoyed imagining what it might have been like to live that way. 

The buildings in that sector of the city rose higher than those just a few blocks over, their shadows darkening the street level enough that artificial lighting was necessary even during the day, and the warm feeling she got from wrapping herself in Firo’s stories left, taking her smile with it. There were fewer people bustling about, but that only made Navina grow more alert, more aware of the ones that were. Like him. In the corner of her vision she noticed a tall Duros man leaning in a darkened doorway, his deep red eyes following her footsteps, a casual smirk on his gaunt purple cheeks. She narrowed her eyes, upper lip curling from the way being watched made her feel.    

“Tell me again why we’re going this way instead of walking through the industrial sector?” Her grip tightened even further around the strap on her bag, until she could feel her fingernails digging into her palm. 

Firo flinched, clenching his teeth before sucking a breath through them as he slung his arm around her shoulder. Oh, here we go. “Well, it’s kind of a long story, Nav.” It always is. “Suffice it to say that one thing led to another and I may or may not have,” -so, you did  “made a bet that I had no business making, and I-” 

Navina groaned. “Firo, you have no business making any bets, ever. You’re terrible at Sabacc, and-”

“Hey!” He dropped his arm and shot her a defensive glare. “I’m not terrible at Sabacc… I just...need practice.” He blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair, the tips of his fingers disappearing into his unruly locks. “A lot of practice, and I’m not… ready for a rematch just yet.” 

Navina was still aware of the Duros lurking in the shadows, his long fingers lifting a lit cigarra to his lipless mouth. The end of it glowed to match the color of his eyes as he inhaled. He hadn’t moved to follow them though, simply shifting his weight as he allowed the smoke to swirl around his face. She felt his gaze on her back as they continued down the street, but she shook it off and turned back to Firo. “How much practice is a lot of practice?” 

Pausing at the corner as a line of land speeders barrelled through the intersection, he kicked the curb and inspected a loose thread at one of the seams in his gloves. “Um… ten or… eleven, something like that.” 

She nudged his boot with her own, eyes going wide. “Ten or eleven… thousand? Firo...are you telling me that you owe some card shark in this kriffing city eleven thousand credits?” The last three words came out in a hiss. 

The traffic signal flashed and they stepped off of the curb to cross. “Don’t worry, Nav, I’ve got it all figured out.” He waved a hand in front of him as they reached the opposite side of the street.

“Yeah,” Navina grumbled, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Your plans are never any better than mine. She sighed. “How much more do you need to get them off your case?” 

Firo cocked his head to the side, doing some quick arithmetic. “After what we just made selling those speeders…” He trailed off. 

They had arranged a meeting with a buyer in a secluded hangar in Coronet spaceport before taking off from Nevarro. The individual was reluctant to give them their name, which wasn’t abnormal when it came to the type of transactions that they typically took part in. Usually they dealt with other smugglers and traders, people who wanted their name used as little as possible to avoid getting thrown in prison or hunted down and frozen in a cold slab of carbonite. 

This buyer though, had another reason to maintain their anonymity. Rumors and whispers of Imperial remnants gathering strength and support had prompted the reemergence of rebel cells across the galaxy, and those militias needed munitions and vehicles and other supplies that Firo and Navina were happy to procure for them as it served a dual purpose: filling their pockets, and taking tools away from the enemy to put them in the hands of the good guys. Only once had one of their rebel customers complained, trying to guilt them into dropping their price for the good of the cause. The good of the cause won’t put fuel in my ship, Navina had answered with a shrug, letting the would-be haggler know that they were free to try their luck elsewhere and that there was no shortage of buyers that would pay double what they were asking. It was a bluff, of course, but the customer had not only begrudgingly agreed, but had become one of their most frequent buyers. It was who they had sold the stolen bikes to for a total of eight thousand credits, four thousand for each of them. 

Firo finally finished his calculations as they turned another corner, the shadows lightening and the buildings becoming shorter again as they reached the perimeter of Black Sun territory. They were almost at the nearest mag-lev station, and Navina was eager to get on the train and out of the city. “Probably another three?” He shrugged. 

Another three. And then what? He goes back into debt to pay for food and fuel? No. “Firo,” she let out a long huff and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You have to pay these guys off before you leave Corellia.” 

Shooting him a sharp glance, she knew that he understood the subtext to what she was saying: take care of it before they come after you or your family. It had happened once before, not over gambling debt but over Leph clashing with one of the White Worm underlings when they tried to recruit the man’s daughter, Firo’s niece, for their organization. Leph had obviously refused, and when he couldn’t pay the gangster off, they had come after his family. Luckily, Navina and Firo had been making a trip back to Corellia at that time to see his mother, so they were there when the assassin had been sent. There was still a visible patch covering the round hole through the kitchen wall from where Navina had shot her blaster straight through it to eliminate the threat. But I can’t be there all the time and neither can you, Firo. 

“Yeah,” he let out the word in a rush of air. “I know.” He frowned and scratched his nose.  

As the mag-lev station came into view, Navina blew out another breath. “Okay. Sell the ship.” 

The train rumbled along the tracks and pulled up to the platform, the two of them picking up their pace so they would have time to hop on before it left again. “What?” Navina didn’t need to look up at him to know that his face was scrunched into a scoff. “Nav, that’s supposed to be you-”

“My ship, yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Sell it. Pay off the rest of the debt.” They climbed the few steps up to the platform, weaving through the crowd of passengers that had just gotten off of the train. A young boy, face smudged with dirt and grease, bumped Navina’s hip and crashed noisily into her bag. He apologized profusely and Navina waved him off, no harm done. 

“But you need that ship to get back to Nevarro, that’s why we-” 

Navina closed her eyes as she reached for the handle to step up onto the train. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mumbled, words running together, “but I’ll…” she took a deep breath as though preparing herself for something truly unpleasant. “Dank farrik, I’ll take The Flare.” 

Firo gave her back an incredulous look as he grabbed the handle and climbed up behind her. “Nav, you flew The Flare here and you complained the entire time. You hate that ship.” 

“Yes, well that’s because it’s a rusted bucket of bolts and you know it, but if you sell the new ship- my ship- you can settle up and no one gets hurt… aside from my pride…” 

Firo’s mouth dropped open as the two of them dropped into one of the train’s window seats. “Navina-” 

She turned to cut him off as soon as her name was out of his mouth. “Okay, one, lose the full name nonsense. It’s weird coming from you. And two, don’t try to talk me out of it. Your family is my family, Firo, so your stupid debts are my stupid debts.” I have to teach him how to bluff better if he’s going to keep playing cards. Now, do I like flying The Flare? Not even a little bit. But that’s what I’m going to do...assuming it doesn’t spontaneously combust when I jump into hyperspace.” 

He knew better than to argue with her at this point. They’d both learned by now when they’d lost. Instead, he bumped her with his shoulder.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Harsa.” 

She bumped him back. “Yeah, that makes two of us, Ottabok.” The train let out a long, loud blast of it’s whistle to let passengers know that they only had a few more seconds to board. 

“Hey maybe your new Mando friend can help you out with some repairs for The Flare when you head back to Nevarro next week,” Firo suggested. 

Navina laughed. “Yeah, doubtful.” She had told Firo everything about her encounter with the man encased in beskar, from fighting the reptavians with him to the way they traded off answering questions to the Mandalorian’s reaction to her pendant and its mysterious purple glow. “He’s… intense. Doesn’t strike me as the type to just offer to help with repairs, and I’m not quite sure I’m ready to ask him for another favor.” But I hope he made some headway on the first one. She chewed her bottom lip and sent out another silent wish that the man would return to her with information on her father. Even if it’s just… She swallowed. At this point, even the knowledge that he was no longer alive would be something more concrete than the floating hope of finding him. She shook those thoughts from her head and shifted her bag into her lap to cross her arms over the top of it. “Anyway, that’s next week’s news.” Hopefully.  “Is Leph gonna be at your Mom’s tonight? I want him to take a look at this kriffing pauldron to see if he can tell me how to fix it where Mando decided to slice it from my shoulder.” 

Firo gave her a quizzical look and scratched his head. “He...what? I thought you said he didn’t take you prisoner?”  

Navina laughed again and shrugged, recalling the weight of the blade resting on her shoulder and the sound of his beskad carving through the thin durasteel plate. “I told you, he’s intense.” 

Firo sat quietly for a few seconds just staring at the seat in front of him before he spoke again. Spit it out, Firo. “Do you really think he’ll be able to help you find your family, Nav? Or…” He frowned. 

“Or what?” She turned in her seat and furrowed her brow. 

“Or are you… do you want to meet with him to find out about your father and…” he shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “Or is this still about the Darksaber?” 

There it is. Navina dropped her gaze to her lap and toyed with the end of her braid where it lay on her shoulder, the blue strands shining in the harsh overhead lighting of the train car. “Why can’t it be both?” She couldn’t lie to Firo, and she didn’t want to. He has to understand.  “Until that thing is destroyed, Mandalorian families will be. Families like mine, and…”

She didn’t finish nor did she need to. “Okay.” Firo nodded and smoothed his hair back before fixing the strap of his bandolier which had fallen into the crook of his arm, and didn’t say another word about the Darksaber or the Mandalorian or Navina’s plan to meet with him. 

Navina nodded, too, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Okay.” She didn’t know much about other people and their relationships, but she was fairly certain that her friendship with Firo was one of a kind. They weren’t afraid to speak their minds to one another. Certainly not.  But they respected each other’s decisions and always did whatever they could to help make sure that those decisions, whatever they may be, didn’t come back to hurt them. She knew that friends like Firo didn’t just drop out of the sky. 

The train began to pull out of the station and Navina switched the topic of conversation to the types of tools she was hoping that Leph would have on him to fix her armor with. Neither she nor Firo saw the dirty faced scrum rat that had collided with her on the platform speaking to the Duros that had been lurking in the shadows, the purple skinned bounty hunter slipping a few credits into the kid’s hand before shoving him away. 

-- -- -- -- -- 

Staying with the Ottaboks was always something to look forward to for Navina. As much as she disliked Corellia and its cities in particular, she loved Firo’s family and they adored her, so she never truly minded when their travels brought them to the crowded, corrupt planet. She knew that there was at least one place there that was worth visiting. Millea, Leph’s six year old daughter, launched herself at Navina from the top of the stoop the second the girl saw her and Firo heading up the drive, her father right behind to clap a large hand on his brother’s arm before leaning in to kiss Navina’s cheek and untangle his child from her limbs. Ma waited near the door like she always did, waving a dish towel before slinging it over her shoulder to reach for Firo’s face and tell him how skinny he was getting. Navina took several mental snapshots and stuck them in the box in her memory with Firo’s stories, and followed the family inside. 

After dinner, Ma finally content that everyone had eaten enough, Navina sat on the floor with Millea while Leph and Firo sat at the table with a couple bottles of ale, catching each other up on the past few months. Navina bit the inside of her cheek as she listened to her friend skate over all of the details that his family wouldn’t approve of, shooting Firo a smirk as he winked at her and took a swig of his drink. 

“Navi, do the song you taught me last time!” Millea suddenly plopped into her lap, her small hands bracing on Navina’s shoulders. 

She smiled as Ma continued to clean up the remains of dinner, packing leftovers in tins that would travel well for Navina’s journey back to Nevarro. “Which one, Mills? Three little loth-caths?”  

“Uh uh,” she answered, swinging her head from side to side so that the braid she’d begged Navina to put in her hair smacked her cheeks. “The other one.” 

“The other one?” Navina asked, still smiling at the girl but mind flashing back to the foundling that she sang the children’s rhyme to all those years ago. “You sure, Mills?” 

“Yeah, Gramma helped me practice it since you were here last time so I know it- all the words!” She beamed with pride, cheeks going round as she showed off a grin, a gap small gap between her two front teeth just like the one her uncle had.

Navina caught Ma’s eye again, and the woman wiped her hands on her pants with an apologetic look. Firo’s mother was fluent in many languages from a life-long career as a galactic translator, and while Mando’a wasn’t one of them, the woman knew enough about the pronunciation to help her granddaughter work on whatever she remembered from Navina’s last visit.  “Millea, don’t pester Nav now.” 

“No, no,” Navina shook her head. She knew that she hadn’t hid the way that her emotion flashed in her eyes from Firo’s mother. She knows me almost as well as he does.  “It’s fine, Ma.” She turned back to Millea and tapped her nose. “I’m impressed you remembered! It’s not an easy one. Alright, little one.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat as she used the same phrase she would have used with their little one, his enormous eyes watching her as she tried to teach him the Rhyme of the Resol’nare. He never followed along with the words himself, but he would clap his small hands and sway from side to side in a way that made Navina, even at 11 years old, think that he must’ve known what she was singing. “Let’s hear it.” Millea smiled again before launching into the rhyme, first in basic and then in Mando’a. 

Education and armor,

Self-defense, our tribe,

Our language and our leader—

All help us survive.

Ba'jur bal beskar'gam,

Ara'nov, aliit,

Mando'a bal Mand'alor—

An vencuyan mhi.

She stumbled more than a few times on the second iteration, but Navina helped her through it, finishing the last line with her. LIke it did since she last saw her father and the little one, the last line made her chest ache. Our leader… the Mand’alor. Wielder of the Darksaber. The sword I’m trying to- 

She pulled herself out of those thoughts though as Millea’s small arms wound around her neck in a giddy hug with Firo, Leph and Ma giving the girl a round of applause. Giving her a squeeze in return, she whispered “Good job, Mill’ika,” before Leph stood and announced that it was time for them to get back home. He offered Navina a few tools that she’s asked for from the kit in his speeder, reminding her of what he told her she’d need to do to repair her armor. And hopefully I’ll be able to use something here to open my pendant and see about that stone. Thanking him, she gave the man a hug and told them both that she hoped she’d see them soon. 

Firo walked them out, and the moment that the door shut behind them, Ma spoke. “I need to tell you something, Nav.” 

Navina took in the serious expression on the woman’s face and stood, immediately joining her at the table. “Sure,” she pulled out a chair and sunk into it, eyes still on the woman across from her. “Is everything alright?” 

“Oh,” she waved one hand, curling her wrist fluidly. “Oh, yes. No, nothing’s wrong, but I… I overheard something at work the other day that I think you should know.” 

What? She tilted her head. “What is it, Ma?” What could it… She didn’t look upset or worried or scared, simply… sincere.  

She took a short breath and let it out through her nose. “Well, I know about your… mission. For your family, and for, well… Firo’s told me things and so have you so, I know that you’re…” 

“Ma?” Navina reached across the table and placed her hand over the woman’s. “It’s okay, just tell me.” 

She nodded. “Alright, well, you know I’m only passable with Mando’a. Huttese, Rodian, even Dathomiri and I’m-” she blew air through her lips. Yeah, I know. “But a few weeks back? Maybe… five or six now, I… well I heard two women speaking Mando’a in Diadem Square.” What? Ma shook her head. “And aside from you, Nav, I have never known Mando’a to be spoken on Corellia. Not in public, anyway.” 

Navina hadn’t realized it, but she had leaned forward in her seat. “W-well, what… did they say?” 

Ma shook her head. “I really… I only caught a few words that I know, so I’m not entirely sure, but I heard ‘aliit’ and then ‘Mudhorn’, a few words I couldn’t decipher, and then...then one that I knew and another in Basic.” 

Navina’s eyes widened at the mention of the Mudhorn, the signet on the Mandalorian’s armor seeming to glow in her memory. “What words, Ma?” 

The woman sighed. “I heard the word ‘Mand’alor’,” Navina stiffened, “and then I heard one of them say ‘Darksaber’.” 

“What? Are...are you sure that’s what you heard?” Her heart pounded as the woman nodded. “Why are you telling me now?” Her eyes flicked to the door and she knew that Ma would understand her unasked question- why was she telling her while Firo was out of the room? 

“I know Firo worries about you, Navi. Dank farrik so do I. I never had a daughter and I never imagined I’d be lucky enough to have you in my life but I am so, so glad that I do. You’re a good, fierce friend, Navina Harsa, and that is a rare thing in this life.” She felt her chest tighten, sending the same sentiment silently back. I’m the lucky one, Ma. The woman narrowed her eyes. “But I know that you need to do things for yourself. So I wanted you to know this.” 

The door opened and Firo walked in, closing it behind him to make the world spin inside of Navina’s head. “Well I had to promise Mills that I’d pick her up from school tomorrow before she would agree to leave but-” 

The rest of his sentence was drowned out in her mind as she thought about what she’d just learned. The Mandalorian. Clan Mudhorn, the Darksaber… the Mand’alor. She’d be leaving for Nevarro in two days, but suddenly with all the new questions that just cropped up, that felt like two lifetimes. 

“Um,” she cleared her throat and pushed her chair back. “Um, I think I’m going to head upstairs and… and get cleaned up if that’s…” she trailed off questioningly and Ma assured her that it was fine, shushing Firo’s attempts to try to get Navina to have another ale with him first. 

Thanking Ma and smacking Firo on the arm, she grabbed her bag from the bench by the front door, dropping the tools that Leph had lent her into it, and shouldered it to head for the staircase. She hadn’t seen the small device that the scrum rat working with that Duros in Coronet City had slipped in there when he bumped her.

 It didn’t beep or blink, and it was small enough to become hidden in the fabric of the bag’s inner lining. And it was sending her location to its receiver, wherever- or more accurately, whoever that may be.     

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tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek​ @fific7​

[queenxxxsupreme]

Oversight

A/N: I stan Steve dating a hot head and I don’t know why. I also don’t know where the hell this idea came from but I’m not sure that it’s going anywhere either🤷‍♀️💁‍♀️

Warnings: aggressive reader, cursing

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: The Avengers discuss the Accords. You try not to put your head through a wall every time you hear the word Accord.

Note: This takes place in Civil War when everyone is at that meeting discussing/debating the Accords. I did change quite a bit in this scene but I think I like it :)

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” 

Steve was just sort of listening to Rhodey and Sam argue. He was too busy reading what felt like a book in his hands. It was the Accords, something that would regulate the team and any other enhanced person on the planet. He didn’t like what he was seeing. Ross had mentioned earlier that every enhanced person in the world would have to register and be evaluated based on their abilities. He even threw out the idea that enhanced persons would have to wear some sort of identification so everyone around them knew who they were.

The Captain’s brows drew together more and more as he read the Accords. None of it was sitting right with him. 

“So let’s say we agree to this thing.” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this, Sam. 117, and you’re just like-,” Rhodey trailed off as his attention was pulled away from the Falcon. 

Out in the hallway, agents were looking in the same direction, their attention taken away from their work to cautiously watch someone move through the hall.

“What’s going on?” Rhodey muttered. He took a few steps towards the glass wall. His concern dropped as soon as he saw you. 

“Shit.” Sam cursed, turning to look at Steve. “Cap! She’s here!” 

Steve immediately looked away from the papers in his hands and turned his chair around. Sam pointed in the direction of you. The Captain stood to his feet as he watched you talk to a few agents who had stepped in your way. Talk was the nice way of saying you were giving them a piece of your mind. Not many people dared to cut you off. You were a force to be reckoned with. 

Steve had hoped you’d stay away like he asked. He didn’t want you getting in trouble, which you did quite often. You were enhanced with inhuman strength and senses, and an incredibly short temper. Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit that you’d beat him in an arm wrestle one or twice. 

It was a well known fact that the Captain America was romantically involved with the human embodiment of anger issues. Bruce Banner had nothing on you. He was usually peaceful and calm and collected, only sometimes letting his anger get the best of him. You, however, had trouble controlling your anger. It was a side effect to your abilities, or at least that’s what you said. 

“She’s going to get herself arrested.” Tony thought out loud. He was lounging in a chair, his hand previously covering his eyes as he listened to Rhodey and Sam argue.

“She knows how serious this is.” Steve shook his head, not taking his eyes away from you. You gestured to something behind you that Steve couldn’t see. Even through the glass walls, he could hear you shouting at the poor agent who was put in charge of making sure no unauthorized personnel interrupted the Avengers and their debate. “She wouldn’t do anything....”

He trailed off as an agent moved behind you. He put his hand on your arm, a huge mistake. You grabbed the lapel of his suit jacket and his wrist and slammed him against the wall with enough force to rattle the glass. 

“Shit!” Rhodey winced. You released the man and stepped back as he slumped to the floor. You held your hands up to show you weren’t going to do anything to the agent pointing a gun at you. 

Steve shifted in his spot. He didn’t like the weapon being aimed at you. You saw his movement out of the corner of your eyes. You turned your head and met his gaze. Your intense and cold glare softened at the sight of him. Without worrying about the agent holding a gun to you, you moved towards the door of the room.

“I thought I told you lay low for a little while.” Steve met you half way, his hand slipping around your waist. 

“I’m not sitting around on my ass while this shit happens.” You shook your head, your hands finding his biceps. “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” He answered quietly, nodding his head.

“So nice of you to finally join us, agent.” Tony leaned forward in his chair.

“I wouldn’t miss this shit show for the world.” You gave him a little grin. You two were close friends, not as close as you were Natasha, of course. But you respected and admired the Iron Man. “What’s got you feeling like we need a babysitter, big guy?”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe just thinking about how much destruction we cause on a day to day freaking basis.” He stood from his chair and moved towards the little kitchen. 

“To be a hundred percent fair, Stark, most of that is Y/N.”

You turned your head to look at Sam, throwing your hands in the air as you stepped away from Steve.

“Thought you were on my side, Sammy.”

“It’s oversight, Y/N” Rhodey said. “Not babysitting.”

“Same thing.”

“It would be amazing if you could take this one thing serious, Y/N.” 

“I am taking it serious, Rhodes.” You snapped at him. You put your index finger against your chest. “I’m the fucking enhanced person they want to put a Goddamned tracking chip in, not you. That’s not oversight. That’s psychotic.”

“You haven’t even looked at the Accords yet, Y/N.” Vision said.

“Oh, but I have.” You tightly smiled as you moved to sit on the arm of the chair Steve sat in.

“How?” 

Your eyes very briefly met Natasha’s. Okay, maybe you didn’t read the Accords yourself but Natasha had and she told you everything. You looked back to Vision for a second. Your gaze flickered to Tony. He was staring down at the counter, his fists pressed against the marble. 

“I think the whole keeping track of enhanced people is a little much.” Rhodey admitted, nodding his head. Before he could say anything, Steve spoke.

“I saw the same thing in Germany.” He turned his head to look at Rhodey. “Nazis made the Jewish people wear the Star of David on their chest. It’s a label, a branding mark.”

“A target.” You added, shaking your head. “If the wrong people get ahold of the list of enhanced people, who knows what they’d do.”

“You’re being dramatic, Y/N.”

“The hell I am, Vision!” You shot to your feet. Everyone around you jumped except for Steve. He watched you carefully. “There’s already groups targeting inhumans. They’re just a small fraction of the enhanced people who have to register-,”

“That's Charles Spencer, by the way.” Tony cut you off, pointing to a hologram above his phone. “He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

Silence fell around the room. Wanda inhaled softly, her eyes falling to her hands. You noticed this.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” Tony paused to put a pill in his mouth then used coffee to take it. He leaned against the counter, shaking his head softly for a moment. Then he started to move around the counter so he was closer to everyone else. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve shook his head.

“Who said we're giving up?”

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.”

“I'm sorry. Steve.” Rhodey shook his head. “That - that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“What the hell do you know about SHIELD or the Council, Rhodes?” You folded your arms across your chest. 

“Can we have her leave?” Rhodey looked to Tony. “She just wants to start a fight.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

“And that’s what they want, Y/N. Do you not understand that?”

“I understand perfectly fine, Colonel. And am willing to fight tooth and nail to make sure those Accords aren’t passed.” You pointed to the papers Steve held. “Do you want to know what I did when I first joined SHIELD?”

“I wanna know who the hell let you join in the first place.” He muttered.

“Nick Fury did.” You smiled proudly but it didn’t last long. “Being enhanced, Fury thought I’d make a good bridge between the enhanced and the rest of SHIELD. That was ages ago, before inhumans were even heard of, before we knew there were aliens or other worlds. But there were still gifted people, they were just few and far between. I’ve seen parents kick children out for being different. I’ve seen what society does to people like me. And I’m not about to let Mr. Thundershit or whatever call out every single enhanced person like they’re some illness everyone should stay away from.” 

Silence followed your words. Everyone looked to someone else in the room, unsure of what to say. Natasha shook her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. 

“Maybe Tony's right.”

Everyone was surprised by the Widow’s words but she continued, her eyes finding Steve. 

“If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-,”

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam cut her off. 

“I'm just.... I'm reading the terrain. We have made.... some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Fuck the public.” You shook your head. You briskly crossed the room, deciding that you needed fresh air before you went postal. “And fuck those Accords!”

***

Steve found you in a stairwell, leaning against the banister with your head hung. 

“You okay?”

You lifted your head and met his gaze, offering him a small nod.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t want to lose my grip back there.”

He moved to stand next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leaned down to kiss the side of your head.

“We’ll get through this.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about, Steve.” You shook your head, standing to your full height as you rubbed your palms together. “It’s-It’s not anyone upstairs or-or even you that I’m worried about.” You admitted quietly. “It’s the kids who are going to die because of those Accords. Putting a logo on them to announce to the whole world that they’re different, that they’re special-,” 

“I know.” Steve cut you off, his hand rubbing your back. He knew you had lost your brother when you were young because he was gifted. Bad people found out about it and came for him. “I won’t let this happen.”

“There’s no stopping it, Steve.” You whispered. “Everyone in there sides with signing.”

“Not Wanda and Sam.”

“Us against the entire fucking world.” You rolled your eyes at the thought. You bit your bottom lip, your eyes finding his. “This is going to end the Avengers.”

He said nothing but held your gaze, locking his jaw as he rubbed your back.

Taglist: @jennylovelyheart @lookalivefrosty​ @ilovesupersoldiers​

[impressivepress]

Charlie Chaplin: Jewish Or Goyish?

As nearly as can be determined, Charlie Chaplin is virtually part Jewish almost most of the time. John McCabe, Charlie Chaplin

In March of 1978, Charlie Chaplin’s body was stolen from his tomb in Switzerland and held for ransom. Two months later it was discovered buried in a farmer’s field and returned to his wife Oona, who remarked, dryly, ‘Charlie would have found this ridiculous.’ According to rumour, the Swiss government suspected that his remains had been stolen by anti-Semitic groups, upset that a Jew should be buried in a Christian cemetery. Chaplin’s Jewishness made him an enemy of the FBI and put him on the Nazi’s list of international targets. He is perhaps one of the most famous Jews in American history hence it is all the more surprising to learn that he was not, in fact, Jewish. Since his early days as the Little Tramp, a role he assumed in 1914, Jews had believed Chaplin was secretly Jewish. The fact that his name was not Jewish was irrelevant; it was common practice for Jews to change their names when entering show business (Al Jolson was born Asa Yoelson). In the 1948 edition of a Jewish encyclopedia, Chaplin is listed as a Jewish movie star, and the name ‘Israel Thonstein’ is mentioned alongside the claim that he was from an old Eastern European Jewish family. As proof, the encyclopedia cited a 1931 article from the New York Herald Tribune, which commented upon the way Chaplin’s eyes could convey both sadness and joy in a uniquely Jewish fashion, and a Budapest Jewish paper which claimed to trace his Jewish ancestry (as Thonstein) back to Hungary.

More important than birth records and names was the fact he looked, acted and ‘felt’ Jewish. To Jewish eyes, Chaplin told Jewish stories. Famously, one critic recalled watching The Gold Rush (1925) next to a middle-aged Jewish woman: ‘Oy!’ she wailed, as the Tramp tried to escape from his on-screen tormentors, ‘What do they want with him, the goyim?!! What has he done to them?’ The Tramp, small and powerless, was taunted and hounded by authorities who hated him without reason, in what appeared to American Jews as the enactment of the Jewish condition. Hannah Arendt wrote in 1944 that Chaplin symbolised the ‘effrontery of the poor ‘little Yid’ who does not recognise the class order of the world because he sees in it neither order nor justice for himself ’. Meanwhile, in Sholem Aleichem’s 1916 story, ‘Motl in America’, the hero spends his time watching Chaplin films and extolling the virtues of free America in which a Jew like Chaplin can become rich and famous.

For film scholar Patricia Erens, the Tramp is a variation on ‘dos kleine menshele’ or ‘little man’ of Yiddish literature, the poor and long-suffering antihero, the shlemiel (a little man with no luck), and the luftmensch (the ‘man of air’ who lives on dreams). Erens cites the numerous Jewish references in Chaplin’s oeuvre, in particular the prevalence of skullcaps and Yiddish newspapers as props, and a scene in The Vagabond (1916) in which the Tramp finds a Jewish man eating pork at a buffet and helpfully changes the ‘ham’ sign to ‘beef ’. Many of the characteristics we associate with ‘acting’ Jewish—the nasal voice, the New York accent, and the verbal wit a‘ la Groucho Marx—were unavailable to the makers of silent pictures. Chaplin, however, was a dancer, an acrobat, and a pantomime extraordinaire and able to communicate other, non-verbal cultural indicators to a savvy audience—the comic shrugs, the outdated black coat, the facial pathos combined with frantic body movements, the chaotic presence that mocks the establishment. Above all, Chaplin achieved a subtle gender inversion through the graceful, almost balletic eluding of his macho tormentors. Jewish audiences recognised this physical portrayal from the Yiddish stage and read it as a visual metaphor for the disempowered Jew in a hostile world.

Across the world this misconception raged, gaining him enemies to the left and the right. The German-American Bund helped spread the rumour that Charles Spencer Chaplin was born Israel Thonstein and in the book that accompanied the Nazi propaganda film The Eternal Jew, Thonstein is cited as the maiden name for the mother of ‘The Jew, Chaplin.’ In 1948 the US Navy investigated Chaplin on suspicion of Zionist activity: shipping guns to Palestine, as well as around 36 tanks. But it was the FBI under Hoover that became Chaplin’s greatest political and legal enemy. Chaplin’s FBI file is a comprehensive laboratory for identity construction that began in 1922 and remained open until after his death. The file chronicles Chaplin’s downfall, the suspicion of Communist activities, the Mann Act trial for transporting unmarried women across state lines for deviant purposes, and further rumours and innuendo that led to his expulsion from America in 1952. Chaplin is continually described as ‘of Jewish extraction,’ given the name of ‘Thonstein’ as an alias (though there is no proof that Chaplin ever used this name himself), and assigned attributes such as ‘Jewish accent,’ ‘talks with hands,’ and Russian birth.

Crucially, it was not Jewishness that alarmed Hoover but ambiguity. According to Omer Bartov in his compelling work The Jew in Cinema, Jewish characters are often portrayed as slippery and protean, possessing an insidious ability to obscure their Jewishness and blend in. The emancipation of the Jews from the ghettos of Europe at the turn of the last century had left them free to shave and dress in modern clothing, making them impossible to detect. This new found ambiguity of Jewish identity made them, in many gentile eyes, the most dangerous minority in civilised society. Ambiguity was the dominant paranoia of Cold-War America, which felt itself threatened by the enemy within—the Communists, Jews and homosexuals who were so hard to detect. The insistence on Chaplin’s Jewishness helped reinforce the notion of an ‘authentic American’ by establishing firm conceptual borders through identity construction and categorisation.

Not only did both Jewish and gentile audiences see him as a Jew, but Chaplin himself very nearly became convinced of his own Jewishness. While he did not officially doubt his mother’s version of his parentage, in which her legal husband, Charles Chaplin, Sr., a non-Jewish pop singer, was his biological father, there were times when he clearly wondered if the questions surrounding his lineage were true, and if they were more scandalous than imagined. His step-brother Sydney had a Jewish father and the world’s insistence on Chaplin’s Jewish origins prompted him and many others to wonder whether their birth stories had in fact been reversed.

‘All geniuses,’ Chaplin was heard to remark,‘have some Jewish blood in them.’ Flattered by the widely held misconception about his Jewish identity, his understanding of Jewishness was simplistic and stereotypical: Jews were blessed with superior intellect and financial acumen than non-Jews. Further, he believed that his physical attributes compounded the myth: he was short with curly black hair, ‘Oriental facial features’, and a prominent nose. In footage taken of famed British comedian Harry Lauder’s visit to Chaplin Studios, Lauder draws Chaplin on a chalkboard. Chaplin makes great show of stopping him, pantomimes ‘too Jewish,’ and re-draws the nose. Quite how to interpret this is unclear, but Chaplin either believed himself to be Jewish or was making fun of those who did. In the absence of confirmed roots, Chaplin may have sought to align himself with a group that, although outsiders in mainstream society, seemed to him possessed of an ancient and mystical national bond. When the great cantor Yossele Rosenblatt visited Chaplin’s studios, Chaplin told him that he owned all of the cantor’s recordings and that ‘Whenever I feel a little blue, I take them out and play them. They do something to me. They unite me, oh so closely, with my Jewish ancestors.��

Chaplin was an actor, and he played one role after another all his life. He occasionally told people he was Jewish, which sounded better to his director’s ears than ‘poor English gutter trash.’ But sometimes, including in his interviews with the FBI, he denied it, once commenting, ‘I am afraid I do not have that good fortune.’ Of his anti-Nazi picture The Great Dictator (1940) Chaplin said, ‘I made this film to show my unity with all the Jews of the world’. While American politicians and agents worried about the film’s ‘Communist’ message, the American Jewish establishment feared that an anti-Hitler film made by a Jew might make things worse for Jews in Europe. Chaplin’s own response—‘How can they get worse?’—indicates his own fearlessness. For the Jew in America, it was as if, as Stanley Kauffmann put it, ‘a David had arisen—a comic David—to fight Goliath!’

~

Holly A. Pearse · Oct 19, 2018.

Holly A.Pearse holds a PhD in religion and culture, and specializes in the representation of Jews in art and media. At the moment, her research delves into the portrayals of Jewish-Gentile romance in American film, and she currently teaches at Wilfrid Laurier University in Ontario, Canada.

[omfgtrump]

Bail to The Chief

With The Don banished, silenced on Twitter and other social media, and left only to spread lies about his golf game, this was the time to cut the head off the orange snake. After all, the snake was being served up on a platter with the sign: Convict and Banish.

Mitch McConnell, a snake of different color, saw an opportunity to lead the beheading. In his conniving manner, he intimated he would be willing to consider bringing the ax down. But a funny thing happened. Talk of challenging his leadership role spooked him and he joined 44 other Republicans to try to cancel the trial completely. The “Grim Reaper” also wanted to avoid a scenario where his cronies would publicly be on record with their vote, as for now, big business has decided they won’t throw money into Republican coffers for supporting the “Big Lie” and failure to denounce The Don’s actions. (We will see how long that lasts!)

Though there is precedent for impeachment trials after a public official leaves office, the Republicans decided to continue their odious sycophancy. And anyway, what’s all the hubbub about instigation of an insurrection. Just a few dead police officers (two by suicide), 140 injured, confederate flags carried through the halls of the Capitol, a guy wearing an Auschwitz t-shirt, threats to lawmakers lives and and a lively chant of “hang Mike Pence” for good measure. As I said, what’s all the hubbub?

In fact, The Don’s legal team decided to jump ship because he insisted that they use the “they stole the election defense.” Imagine arguing that the election was a fraud, stolen from The Don, so it was his right to incite a riot to take back what was properly his. So in other words, “Yeah, he did it, but you can’t steal stuff from people and not expect someone to fight back!”

Let’s face it folks, if many Republicans are still propagating the “Big Lie,” that Biden is an illegitimate president, and instigating an insurrection against your own government doesn’t rise to the level of convict and banish, then any hope of sanity and unity is gone.

When members of congress do not feel safe in their work place because of  menacing colleagues, we have arrived at a dark place.

At a press conference Nancy Pelosi, someone who was a target of the rioters, stated it very clearly: “The enemy is within.”

This quote from A.O.C. directed at Ted Cruz regarding their mutual support of the anti-Wall street populism of the “Game Stop” stock extravaganza says it all.

“I am happy to work with Republicans on this issue where there’s common ground, but you almost had me murdered 3 weeks ago so you can sit this one out,” she responded. “Happy to work w/ almost any other GOP that aren’t trying to get me killed. In the meantime if you want to help, you can resign.” Talk about speaking truth to power!

Cruz, the poster child for unity, response was to cry foul and state that A.O.C.’s anger stoked further division.

Mr. Unity, what have you got to say about fellow Republican, Qanon lady, Marjorie Taylor Greene, who, in an October 2020 video surfaced recently by Mother Jones,  said that the “only way you get your freedoms back is it’s earned with the price of blood.”

What’s that I hear? Umm! Thought so. So you can take your cry for unity and shove it up your ass. You are scum. A sniveling, conniving, morally bankrupt opportunist who gives a shit about no one but yourself and desire for power. And that goes for you too, Josh Hawley.

Lady Q has also repeatedly claimed in multiple videos and social media posts that several school shooting massacres were “false flag” events perpetrated by government officials in an attempt to drum up support for gun control laws. 

Lady Q has implicated anti-Semitic conspiracy theories that a Jewish owned international investment banking firm, Rothschild, Inc. was somehow involved in creating the devastating fires in California this past summer and suggested the fire was caused by a beam from “space solar generators.” 

Cori Bush, a black, newly elected congresswomen from St. Louis, felt so threatened by Lady Q, that she asked for her office, which was located next to Lady Q’s, to be moved.

And then there is Kevin McCarthy, House Minority Leader, making a pilgrimage to Mar-a-Lago, to lick the soles of The Don’s shoes to ask for forgiveness for ever turning against him. McCarthy’s response to the dangerous conspiracy theory Q Lady was to appointment her to the Education Committee, where she will promote curriculum that promulgates theories that the Jews are behind everything that is wrong with America and for that matter, the world. Heil Hitler, sister Q.

Let’s imagine that conversation K.M.’s conversation with The Don:

K.M. Mr. President.

The Don: It’s about time you showed up. I had you on my list of who to primary.

K.M. Mr. President, Mr. President, I don’t know what got into me. Maybe I was drugged by A.O.C. Marjorie told me that I must have been zapped by a mind control laser beam sent by some Jew that rearranged my thoughts. Do you forgive me? Please forgive me, Mr. President. We need you. You are our fearless leader.

The Don: On your hands and knees Kevin.

K.M. But Mr. Pres..

The Don: Shut up and lick.

K.M: But Mr. Pres…

The Don: Shut up and lick…thatta boy.

K.M. Mr. President. Why are you pulling down your pants?

The Don: Remember all that talk about the pee tapes in the Steele report in the hoax Russia investigation? Well they were true!

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