#who was just KIND to the jehovah's witness people that would come knocking on her door | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

agentnico · 2 years ago

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Knock at the Cabin (2023) Review

Ronald Weasley really has gone downhill since his days learning magic at Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Knocking on people’s cabins Jehovah’s witness style and talking about prophecies. What a wacko!

Plot: While vacationing at a remote cabin in the woods, a young girl and her parents are taken hostage by four armed strangers who demand they make an unthinkable choice to avert the apocalypse. Confused, scared and with limited access to the outside world, the family must decide what they believe before all is lost.

I actually really like M. Night Shyamalan as a director. It’s quite rare these days to have a Hollywood person that hasn’t been a part of or involved in any major controversy or misconduct allegations. Shyamalan’s main problem at times is his actual filmmaking skill, such as The Last Airbender and whatever the fudge was happening in The Happening. But overall, he’s just a lovely little chap who loves making movies (and even funds most of them himself!), and even with his worst ones you never are bored. So let’s all just give some love to M. Night Shyamalamalamadingdong!

So, what kinds of plot twist that Shyamalan is known for has he cooked up in Knock at the Cabin? Well, the twist is that actually there is no twist. This is a pretty straightforward thriller that offers up a philosophical question, one that there are only two possible outcomes to, and obviously the movie settles for one of those outcomes. You have these four home invaders, who turn out not to be invaders, instead asking their hostages to make a choice to sacrifice one of themselves to stop the incoming apocalypse. Immediately the biblical imagery is there, with the four invaders acting as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The movie then proceeds to question constantly if these four individuals are telling the truth or are some mentally deranged psychos. The philosophical premise is an intriguing one, and makes the audience beg the question - what would you do if you were stuck in this situation and were asked to kill one of your own family members in favour of letting the rest of humanity survive? And even though all the events are contrived to this one cabin in the woods (not to be mistaken with the 2012 film The Cabin in the Woods), unlike the recent The Whale which did feel like a stage play, Knock at the Cabin does have that cinematic flare, with Shyamalan managing to use cinematography in creative ways to keep up the tension as the doomsday clock slowly ticks closer to midnight.

A lot of reviews have raved about this too, and I must admit that this film is a showcase of Dave Bautista’s acting chops, showing that he’s trying to break away from his WWE past and actually prove that he’s taken the performing craft seriously. Since other WWE alumni-turned-actors haven’t managed to really become successful dramatic performers. Dwayne Johnson does just play Dwayne Johnson in every movie he’s in. John Cena is a very funny man, and is great in Peacemaker, but one wouldn’t call him a refined actor just yet. Dave Bautista has been very tactical with his film role choices, ranging from his appearances in Blade Runner 2049 (and the accompanying short film 2048: Nowhere to Run in which Bautista probably shows the most emotion in his entire filmography), Spectre, Army of the Dead, Dune and Glass Onion. Like those movies or hate them, one must admit that Bautista is trying his best to take on roles that will challenge him as an actor and allow him to branch out his skills more. With Knock at the Cabin this really comes full circle, as the narrative rests on his teddy-Hulk shoulders, as he guides the characters through everything that needs to happen. There’s also an irony that even though he has this big-man presence, he can also believably portray someone who is very gentle and kind, and in the movie it’s mentioned that he’s a primary school teacher and you can believe it. I’m not saying Bautista’s performance is Oscar worthy or anything of the sort, but it does show that he has indeed stepped away from WWE completely and has embraced his dramaturg self.

Aside from Bautista, other actors of this ensemble all do well with what they got. The other invaders played by Nikki Amuka-Bird, Abby Quin and Rupert Grint (yep, ginger Ron from Harry Potter) all come off at first as these intimading baddies who have just broken into this lovely family’s home. However within minutes it puts us in the position of liking these invaders despite their actions, and in an unsettling way, making us want to believe in what they are doing, and, at the same time, hoping that somehow they will be shown the error of their ways. As for the family, Jonathan Groff has the more reserved quite kindness to him, whilst Ben Aldridge is more like the eyes of the viewer determined to want to know what the f*** is going on. Also the little daughter played by newcomer Kristen Cui who is obsessed with grasshoppers for some reason (typical Shyamalan including random character traits that aren’t ever addressed again) - again another child actor that shows a lot of promise, especially with managing to give a believable enough performance at her age whilst being on a busy film set.

The most disappointing aspect of the movie is that there is no real twist, however that isn’t really a judgement to the film itself, but more so our expectation of Shyamalan due to his track record. That being said, his last film Old didn’t have a twist either. Then again with Old there couldn’t really be a twist as half of that movie was just a big pile of foreshadowing. Anyway, Knock at the Cabin offers little scares and is more so focused on bringing out the psychological horror of the situation. And depending on your opinion of the matter you either will be satisfied or dissatisfied by the ending, however that is entirely to personal preference. Overall though it’s a pretty timid Shyamalan outing, and one that, though enjoyable, is really a one-time watch and then forget about it. Bautista is indeed good in it, and Ron Weasley is kind of just there.

Overall score: 5/10

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zoesrose · 4 years ago

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Intro to Humiliation | Zoe & John

Who: Zoe Rose and John Abrams ( @john-abrams )

When: End of January/Beginning of February 2021

Where: Intro to Humiliation Class & Zoe’s Suite

What: John approaches Zoe about doing a scene; she complies with humiliation in the form of pet play.

John Abrams

John definitely was enjoying his first week of class especially Intro to Humiliation. It had been a kink he had not thought about much, but when he saw it in a roster, it awoke a curiosity he had never considered before. The more he thought about it the more it intrigued him until it was all he could think about. He knew he had to sign up his first semester to see just what it was all about, and sitting in class he had to say it seemed just right for him. Of course, he should have expected sooner or later he would have to get some practical experience in a class like this, and when he noticed Zoe, he recalled the brief talk they had earlier that week. At the end of class on Friday, John made his way to Zoe hoping to catch her before she departed. "Miss? I don't know if you remember me, but we talked a very short time. I didn't realize we were in the same class until I saw you. Do you think you might be interested in getting some practical experience? I have to say the theory is fascinating and all, but I've never really put it to the test yet."

Zoe Rose

Zoe was looking forward to this class. She knew from early on that humiliation was one of her favorite kinks. Not many people agreed with that sentiment which made her look forward to this class even more. She was packing up after another day of lecture when she was approached by someone she didn’t recognize. She didn’t remember him, but he did approach her with respect and upfront about his intentions, which was the right foot already. Zoe crossed her arms and thought it over, nodding after a few seconds. “I don’t see why not. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

John Abrams

John relaxed a little as she seemed receptive to the idea. He had almost expected her to laugh in his face since she was the first person he had asked for anything like this. "I didn't have anything specific, Miss. I'm so new to this, and I'm only just learning about this kink. I was hoping someone a little more experienced might have a better idea of how to proceed."

Zoe Rose

"I see." Zoe expected as much, but that didn't stop her from asking for more input. She pursed her lips together and looked him over. "I wouldn't want to do anything sexual with you, but I usually start with something simple like pet play." She thought it over some more and there was a small glint of a smile as she went on. "Then I would bring in elements of objectification and degradation. How does something like that sound as a process?" She asked.

John Abrams

John stayed still as her eyes roamed over him giving her time to think. He had kind of put her on the spot which wasn't entirely fair, so the least he could do was not rush her. "I understand, Miss." He took a moment to think it over, reviewing what he knew of humiliation from their first week in class. "That sounds like a very reasonable process. I think that could definitely be a good start to my practical application of Humiliation Play." He was really glad he had gotten the courage to come to Zoe to talk to her. "I really appreciate your help with this, Miss."

Zoe Rose

"This Thursday." She offered. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing else for them to discuss at the present moment. "Before then you'll send me your limits and your safeword. You'll also send me which animal you resonate with the most." He was obviously a very sweet boy and someone willing to be humiliated, which was something she'd been dying to do. She was glad he approached her. "Understood?"

John Abrams

"Yes, Miss. Thursday." He made a mental list of his tasks which wasn't hard and gave another nod. "I understand. Thank you again, Miss." He didn't want to waste any more of her time so he quickly took his departure from the class. Sitting down, he marked his safeword 'Jehovah's witness' and he started making his list of limits. He wrote down the standard ones Bathroom Play, Gore, Vore, Mutilation, but he also wanted to make sure to list any topics about humiliation he might be uncomfortable with. The last thing he wanted was stop a scene because he failed to properly mark his limits. After thinking long and hard the only thing he could think of was small penis humiliation. He was plenty comfortable with his body, but that was the only thing that might give him pause and he'd rather they just stay away from it than worry about it knocking them out of their groove. Scribbling it down he made sure to elaborate he was fine with humiliation of any other part of his body. After that, he knew he loved puppies and imagined they were the animal he resonated with the most quickly scribbling it at the bottom. Making his way to her room, he handed it off and waited for their time on Thursday.

Zoe Rose

On Thursday, Zoe was ready for John. He'd given her his safeword, which she thought was odd, but didn't question it, and his limits, which she memorized. Before their time together, she purchased some puppy ears and a tail to get them both into the scene at a quicker rate. "Hello, pup," she greeted him, starting right off the bat with the pet name she'd be using for him for the duration of the night. After the review of the limits and safeword he'd already sent her, they were ready for their scene. "Good pup for getting all of that to me on time." She slipped the headband onto him and pinned the tail onto him as well before taking a step back and admiring the way he looked. "I will admit, you make a very cute puppy.

John Abrams

John could feel his nerves tingling in his finger tips as he reached her door. This would be his first proper scene with someone, not just some kinkier than vanilla sex. He was kind of glad sex was not part of the equation his first time doing this, giving him a better chance of staying focused on getting the proper experience. He smiled at her words, enjoying the way pup sounded coming from her. It was quite comforting and her words of encouragement were helpful to in shaking the last of his nerves off. He bowed his head for the headband, and held steady for the tail, never having worn such accessories before. "Thank you, Miss. I want to be a very good puppy for you." His hand reached to feel the softness of the ears. "Should I get on all fours, Miss?" He had never done pet play before, and even though that was not the focus of this Humiliation session he wanted to get it right.

Zoe Rose

This wasn't Zoe's first scene by any means, but pet play was not something she did often and she hardly ever scened with the opposite sex. But she was looking to expand her knowledge as a Dominant and this was the way to do that. He seemed like a good boy already, willing to bend and bow and most importantly to learn. That and the fact that he was so respectful made him the prime candidate to practice with. She nodded in response to his question and pointed to the floor. "Yes. For the remainder of this scene you will only be allowed to move around on all fours like the pup you are. And just like a puppy, you are only allowed to bark like a dog, eat and drink like a dog and use the bathroom like a dog." Moved into the kitchen, signaling for him to follow her. She'd already set up a dish that contained cereal and a bowl for water on the floor. "And in the bathroom there's a puppy pad for you." It was humiliating, but that was the whole point of this scene. "Are the rules and expectations clear? Bark once for no and two for yes."

John Abrams

John didn't hesitate to quickly get on his knees and hands. He always prided himself on being quick to obey and when she had been so generous to agree to do this scene with him, he made it a goal to be the best pet he could be. He listened carefully to the rules, thinking they seemed very reasonable. Following on her heel like an eager puppy, he looked at the doggie dishes in the kitchen. This was going to be quite the experience, and it was slowly sinking in just how well she had planned all of this. Leaning down he sniffed at the cereal curiously, taking a bite of it and chewed. It was pretty bland, if he had to guess cheerios, but he was hardly going to complain."Ruff, Ruff" He barked quickly sticking his tongue out with a smile on his face. He softly nuzzled her leg with his furry ear as thanks for taking the time to do this with him.

Zoe Rose

Zoe was willing to do this scene and was using it as a way to expand her knowledge and experience. But it wasn't until they were at this point in the scene where she was learning to appreciate this exchange on a more personal level. He was very willing and a quick learner when it came to her expectations. Not to mention, he did make a cute puppy and her affection only grew when he nuzzled against her leg. She smiled and leaned down to run her fingers through his hair over the band of the ears. "Good boy," she praised. "You're such a good boy." She led him back into the living room where there was a small basket of toys on the table. She pulled out a green ball and waved it in the air above where John was. "Do you want to catch the ball, like a good pup?"

John Abrams

John did really enjoy the praise he got from Zoe, the way it was framed as him being a pet being all the humiliation he needed for now. He hummed happily as she pet his head and ran her fingers on his head. "Ruff!" He said happily trying to convey his enjoyment with his bark as much as he could. He followed right at her heels ignoring the soft ache he started to feel on the hard floor. Looking up at the ball he grinned happily nodding his head and giving another happy bark. He did a spin of excitement on his knees trying to convey the zoomies he'd seen of other animals before. He had to wonder what people would say if they saw him acting in such a dehumanizing way, but that was the point. At least if he could be a good pet, and he'd try his very hardest to follow.

Zoe Rose

It was clear that John was completely in the right headspace for his current role, from the way he barked seamlessly to the adorable little spin he did to show his excitement. It earned him a genuine smile from Zoe as she continued to tease him with the ball in hand. She was thoroughly entertained and amused. She faked to the left then threw the ball to the right. "Go get it boy," she cooed, watching him chase after the ball. As he played, she sat on the couch, crossing her legs and holding her hand out to him. "Come on, boy. Bring me the ball."

John Abrams

John was so happy to see the woman smile since he hadn't seen her smile very often in their brief time together. John was almost embarrassed to admit he was almost tricked by her fake throw, taking him a moment longer to realize he didn't miss it. He crawled as quickly as he could to chase after the ball almost using his hand to reach for the ball, but recognized his mistake and tried to pick it up with his mouth. It was a little bit awkward trying to get used to opening his mouth so wide, but after a few tries he was able to get it and he quickly turned around to return it to her. Dropping it in her hand, the grinned as he sat on his hind legs again.

Zoe Rose

Zoe was patient by default and it was especially evident in moments like this, where John needed a little extra time to get into the headspace and have his body cooperate with the scene. She was perfectly content just watching him and she smiled once again when he finally made his way back to her and dropped the ball in her hand. "Good boy." She cooed once more before running her fingers through his hair and over the ears. "Now, lay," she commanded.

#john #para: john #para: intro to humiliation

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years ago

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Have you always known what you've wanted to do with your life, career-wise? I thought I did. My freshman year in high school I learned what psychology was after having a health and psychology class and decided then it was something I wanted to pursue. Prior to that I knew I wanted to help people, but I was thinking like a counselor. I was always the friend people came to if they needed advice or just someone to talk to. In middle school I remember going on those AOL teen message boards and offering advice there. I loved trying to help people and being the one to lend an ear. In college I majored in psych and obtained my BA. And then that was it. I have no plans or interest in pursuing anything further, so obviously a psychologist isn’t in the cards anymore. I honestly have no idea what I want to do career wise.

If you found out you couldn't bear children, would you be willing to adopt? I can’t have kids, but I also don’t want any.

Would you stay at a haunted hotel? Nope.

Could you live without the Internet? I mean yeah, the world would keep on spinning, but I quite enjoy my internet and would like to keep it.

Do you always remember to bring a towel? I always set out a towel before getting into the shower.

Spiders: Kill them or let 'em go? Well, I don’t do anything. Noooo way. I get someone else to get rid of them!

How do you feel about Paris Hilton? I don’t care. I very rarely hear about her anymore.

When drunk, are you: violent, crazy, clingy, talkative, or depressed? I got talkative and the word vomit liked to come out. I usually also ended up feeling depressed and lonely by the end of the night.

Do you know who is on the $5000 bill? (yes, it does exist!) James Madison. They don’t make ‘em anymore, though.

What is the best HAND-MADE present you've ever received? A quilt a friend of my grandma’s made for me when I was a kid during one of my hospital stays.

Do you Yahoo? My email is Yahoo.

Have you ever gotten pizza delivered to your house that you didn't order? Nope.

What's the most disgusting thing you've ever encountered while at a hotel? I haven’t had a bad hotel experience, thankfully.

What would you do if Hugh Hefner hit on you? He died a few years ago, but anyway he wouldn’t have been interested in me. Which is perfectly fine haha I don’t want some pervy old man hitting on me.

Is the price always right? No.

Do you smell what the Rock is cookin'!?!? Nope. (And yes I know that was his wrestling tagline or whatever back in the day).

Are you gullible? I’m a pretty skeptical person.

What's the craziest rumor you've heard about Marilyn Manson? That he was the kid from The Wonder Years lol. The friend to Fred Savage’s character. I have no idea how or why that rumor got started.

(Insert random song lyric of your choice here): “Cause I’m one step closer to the edge, and I’m about to break.”

Does unneccessary punctuation annoy you? It’s unnecessary.

Do you know anyone who was born on leap year? Nope.

Do you follow a 5-second rule after dropping food on the floor? Ew, nooo. Once it hits the floor it’s trash.

Do you think that only unclean people get head lice? Nope, major misconception.

Are you skilled with balls? (like basketball or baseball, you perv!) Nope.

Did you take Flintstone vitamins or any others as a child? Blech, yes. Those were so gross.

What types of things do you think the government is hiding from us? I know a lot of people think there’s something going on given current events. I’ve seen those comments.

What would you do if the Kool-Aid man busted through your wall? If something just randomly burst through my wall it would scare the shit out of me omg.

Have you ever been to an art museum? Yeah, a few.

How do you like your soda: Glass bottle is best, followed by fountain soda, but can and plastic bottle are fine, too. I used to love soda, but I don’t drink it anymore apart from when I take my medicine.

Do you recycle? Yeah, we recycle cans and plastic bottles.

Can one person really make a difference? Yes.

Which is worse: elevators or escalators? Well, all I can take are elevators, so. The thought of being stuck in one scares me.

Are you gonna make your momma proud? I feel like such a huge disappointment.

Ring the bell for service or wait patiently for a minute first? I’d wait a bit first.

Boomerang or Cartoon Network? Boomerang is cool cause it shows old stuff from my childhood.

Have you learned anything valuable today? Not so far.

What's your favorite kind of Doritos? Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch. Back when I could eat spicy food; though, I would have picked the Spicy Nacho ones. They have Flamin’ Hot Doritos now, which I’m sad I never got to try.

Do your parents have MySpace pages? No. They weren’t into social media stuff back then. They have a Facebook, though.

If you had a time machine, would you go to the past or to the future? I’ve always wanted to go back in the past, but now there’s a big part of me curious to see past this coronavirus stuff. Like when will it end? Will it? That could also be terrifying, though. The future could end up looking even worse...

What if Darth Vader was YOUR father? So I could be a jedi? Sweet.

Do you honestly know how to play Monopoly or just make up rules as you go? I think I’ve played it the right way. For the most part, anyway.

Be honest...ever peed in the pool? Nooo.

Do you ever fathom the amount of words in the English language? It’s pretty wild.

Have you ever pulled a fire alarm? Nope.

Do brain teasers tickle, confuse, or fascinate your brain? They definitely are often confusing, but I like them.

You're hungry. All there is to eat is stale chips. Eat 'em or not? Mehhh probably not.

Have you had your tonsils removed? No.

If Ashton Kutcher punk'd you, would you feel the need to punch him? No, but depending on the prank I might be upset or pissed off. I loved watching that show back in the day, though. I also had a crush on Ashton Kutcher at the time, ha.

Have you ever fallen off of a treadmill while walking/running? I’ve never been on a treadmill.

Do you drink milk right from the bottle/carton, or pour yourself a glass? I don’t drink milk at all.

Isn't Chef Boyardee awesome? I wouldn’t say it’s awesome, but I do like Spaghetti O’s.

Do you like marshmellows in your hot cocoa? Marshmallows are a must.

What reality show has been taken WAY too far? I’m just wondering why The Bachelor is still on. That’s one I never got into.

If you were going on a trip, would you Mapquest the directions first? I used Mapquest back in the day, like when you still had to print out directions. Now I just use Google Maps on my phone.

Do you hide when Jehovah's Witnesses knock on your door? We just don’t answer the door.

Did you ever think any of your teachers were HOT? Nope.

If you farted in front of your significant other, would he/she care? I’m single.

White Castle: nasty or absolutely yummy?! I’ve never a fresh White Castle from the actual place, just the kind you can get in the frozen food section at the store haha. Those are good, though.

Must you grab a souvenir from almost everywhere you go? Haha I’m a keychain gal. I also like getting a shirt or hoodie.

Have you ever walked out on a movie at the theater? Which one? I remember doing that once, but I don’t remember what the movie was.

Did you enjoy making things out of Play-Doh as a child? Yeah, I loved Play-Doh. If I ever happen to be around Play-Doh and get a whiff of it, it instantly takes me back to childhood. It’s such a nostalgic smell.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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reekierevelator · 5 years ago

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Cadavers Can’t Dance

a short, vaguely allegorical, tale

‘I tell you, it was him, coming towards me, slowly, white staring eyes, the rest completely black and dripping, ghoulish, little lopsided steps, twisting from side to side like some hellish dying dancer.’

‘Get a grip de Pfeffel, dead men don’t dance. You’re paranoid. Fear and imagination are running away with you.’

‘You weren’t there Pret, I was. Saw it with my own eyes. Horrible. Ghastly.’

‘So did you move it like we said?’

‘Move it? Was I going to grab it, wrap it up in that old length of carpet, tie a lump of concrete round it and roll it into the old dock? You’re not hearing me Pretty. The goddam corpse was alive. It was coming towards me. Staring at me.’ His thin high voice rose in a crescendo to almost a shriek.

‘So, what, you mean you didn’t introduce it to the dead dogs and sewage in the old dock? You just, what, scarpered, lumbered off as fast as your big flat feet would carry you?’ Her mocking tone made no attempt to disguise real anger.

‘What else was I supposed to do?’ he screeched.

‘You were supposed to get rid of it fat head. You were meant to do what we couldn’t do when that idiot dog-walker clocked us and got too close.’

‘Cut off the hands, smash in the face, tie it up, into the water and offski, - I know all that. I know what we said.’

‘Yes, then weeks till any DNA results, that’s if it’s ever found.’

His voice grew louder. ‘I know that. I know the score. I’m not dense.’

The stick thin woman, Pretty Charterhouse, with her crow’s beak nose and gaunt taut face, tight as an angry headmistress, drew closer to the fat, trembling man, his layers of fat wobbling like jelly. She whispered urgently in his ear. ‘Shut up, de Pfeffel, people will hear. What next? Going to tell them all it wasn’t possible. Mundy couldn’t be staggering around large as life since we knocked him unconscious with a brick, stabbed him through the heart, and buried him a barrel of creosote yesterday? You want to shout it out real loud from the rooftops, make sure nobody’s missing the news?’

‘Ok, ok, so you go then Pret. Get yourself down that mouldy old canal basin dock tonight. See for yourself. Then move the bastard yourself if you can find him.’ The blubber where de Pfeffel’s waist might have been wobbled extravagantly as he attempted to raise himself from the park bench with a mighty sigh. ‘Me, I need a drink.’

Pretty’s small eyes narrowed even further as she watched the triangular mountain of high dudgeon turn its back on her and plod out the gate of the little urban park and into the darkness, its little legs buckling under the weight. She saw de Pfeffel for once ignore his old Vauxhall estate that was parked at the gate and stumble straight across the road into the welcoming Queen’s Arms.

‘This is a bloody joke,’ she thought, and sniggered, suddenly assailed by an image of de Pfeffel as Oliver Hardy. Only when it registered that that made her the straight man, the English buffoon Stan Laurel, did she scowl, turn in the other direction, and scuttle off, back towards the parked black cab, its meter still running.

Within ten minutes she was ringing the doorbell outside a door of dirty black flaking paint on the seventh floor of Gutteridge House, an offensive glass and concrete monstrosity in the suburbs. When there was no response she opened the battered letterbox flap and shouted, ‘Jacob, it’s me, Pretty, we need to talk.’

A few moments later her anxiety level dipped as she heard the bolts being released. The door dragged open a fraction and Pretty trickled inside. The curtains were drawn. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom they met the bulbous staring brown eyes of Jake Reece. He was known in her line of work as Mad Jake the Ripper, a man who lived in the past, somewhere between an eighteenth century gin palace and nineteen fifties austerity. His big brown eyeballs swivelled through a hundred and eighty bloodshot degrees, directing Pretty towards a beaten up old sofa, maybe once coloured oatmeal, and now sagging more than a wet sandwich. Pretty paused, briefly considered remaining on her feet but reluctantly sat down, pulling her Burberry coat tightly around her thighs. ‘You think it was the Jehovah’s Witnesses or something?

Jake ignored the question and proferred the half-drunk can of special brew he was holding in one giant paw, a cigarette smouldering in the other. Pretty understood well enough that it wasn’t his first aperitif of the evening. She bit her lower lip and gave her head a token shake.

Jake took a huge gurgling swig from the can, belched extravagantly, dropped the can to the floor and stared at Pretty expectantly. She blurted it out. ‘You’ll have to do something. Looks like de Pfeffel has botched things.’

‘Botched?’

‘We had to hide the body temporarily last night. I told him to come back when it got dark today with some weights and so on and finally rid us of it. But he’s gone flaky, full of some Halloween nonsense about a half-dead creosote-encrusted Mundy still staggering around the dock. Scared him so much that instead of finishing the job he lost it altogether and took off.’

Jake scratched thoughtfully at the tear-hole in his filthy green pullover as he considered this implausible scenario. Then he resorted to scratching his arse, an evil-smelling protuberance encased in knuckle corduroy of a sickly green colour. ‘But you got it?’ he asked, taking a long drag on the cigarette.

‘The note? Of course we got it. As you said, promissory note to an Arlene. It took a bit of working him over. In the lining of his jacket.’

‘Give it to me.’

‘I’ll deliver it myself.’

Jake bared his teeth and leaned in towards her exhaling a stream of alcohol flavoured tobacco smoke.

‘You don’t know who to.’ He grinned triumphantly, his hands reaching for her throat. ‘Play that game and a girl could get her head ripped off.’

She winced but kept talking. ‘The note itself makes that clear Jake. And take your hands away. I haven’t got it with me.’

Jake nodded, scowled thoughtfully, and took a step backwards.

‘Anyway, it was like you said with the little Caledonian lapdog. Needed putting down after entertaining the idea of going freelance. We couldn’t leave him around to talk, could we?’

‘Where?’

‘Did the job at de Pfeffel’s place. Was where we’d dragged him after rounding him up again. Used de Pfeffel’s motor to move it. We were almost at the water on the old canal dock, carting the body between us, when we realized we’d have to weigh it down with something. It was dark, foggy, no street lights. Looked around. Lots of rusty old bits of industrial debris, half bricks, twisted metal, and such lying nearby. Then this idiot dog-walking punter drifts on to the quay at the far end. There was a big old steel barrel that had been dumped, pushed up against the bit of broken wall next to us. So de Pfeffel picks up a length of rusty old iron and prises the lid off. Looked empty in the dark. We poured the body in. Turned out it was half full of creosote.’

‘The prowler?’

‘The punter walking the alsatian didn’t see nothing.’

‘Mundy – the cops?’

‘No chance. That’s one thing Mundy wouldn’t do. They’d party like it was Christmas if he walked in. Things he’s done. Due to go down for a ten stretch at least.’

Jake ran his sausage like fingers through his greasy grey hair. ‘Identification?’

‘Searched him as per. Careful like. When he was out cold. Usual shite. Few quid. Crap phone. Just labels on cheap chain store clothes is all.’

‘Well Pretty my dear,’ Jake growled, ‘you want to deliver you got to put things right then, don’t you?’ and his mouth opened into a menacing smile that favoured Pretty with his foul sewer breath. ‘Better make it real quick too. That or Arlene gonna have to be told in’t she?’ Jake paused a moment as if allowing time for her known links to violent extremists to sink in while he himself calculated the possible outcomes of such an eventuality. ‘Won’t be best pleased, will she, my dear? Need to hurry.’

Pretty quickly made her excuses, needing to deal with it immediately, and shot out of Jake’s stinking den. She fumbled for the piece of paper in her pocket and trembled at the thought of what Jake would have done if he’d seen through her bluff. And if Jake wasn’t going to come with her to help out she had to work fast. Mundy couldn’t go far in that condition. He might be able to find a temporary hiding place, but badly injured and covered in gunk he wouldn’t survive long. The creosote would dry and harden. He’d have to find a hospital or some kind of chemical cleaning works. What were the chances? How would a detective go about locating him? Could she still count on de Pfeffel to help? And suddenly, she thought ‘footprints’. She pulled the mobile from her Burberry pocket and phoned de Pfeffel. Above the noise of the pub he eventually conceded. ‘Ok, ok, just killing off a double brandy and chaser.’ Pretty offered a silent prayer to Dutch courage.

But then he said ‘See you back at the dock then Pret.’

‘No, I need to get the piece of paper to Arlene. If we both spend time fixing Mundy that mad bastard Jake will be looking after himself, phoning Arlene and blaming us for bolloxing the job. Then where will we be? No, I’m taking it straight to the main woman and I’m telling her the job’s done – and when I’m telling her that in half an hour or so it better be true.’ She ended the call before de Pfeffel could reply.

So instead of taking a taxi to the dock she got the driver to pull up at a safe distance from Arlene’s town house. Best no-one could connect her with Arlene. She filtered quietly through the affluent streets without drawing attention.

De Pfeffel was quickly back on the disused dockside, treading carefully, the stagnant oily water still stinking and as noxious as ever. Winter and already black dark. Only a clouded moon to provide minimum visibility. Sure enough, in a far corner of the quayside creosote had oozed across some moss-covered stone slabs from a barrel that had tipped over. Approaching closer he observed slimy black footprints next to it. ‘So,’ he murmured to himself, ‘now say de Pfeffel tells fairy stories. Somehow that corpse lives, like some zombie returned to haunt me.’

The trail of footsteps was as erratic as a drunk blind man’s. Following them, de Pfeffel identified clear signs where the man had fallen on the ground a number of times, blood mixed with smeared creosote. In the pitch dark, seriously wounded, wondering where he was, trying to escape, he’d tripped up more than once. Remarkably, he’d failed to fall into the dock. De Pfeffel found himself waddling up the full length of the quay and then, as he reached the darkest shadows formed at the corner under the overhanging roof of a dilapidated warehouse the black traces on the slabs began to fade into hard to discern outlines. ‘Need a bloody red indian tracker after this,’ he murmured and his head suddenly buzzed with a terrible pain. His lights went out. He’d been hit with such force that he dropped like a felled tree on to the old flagstones, blood pumping from his temple and running across the stones into the tall weeds growing between them.

Pressed up against the wall of the ancient warehouse Mundy forced his near rigid legs into an almost robotic forward step and, grimacing as he clutched one hand tightly over his chest he dropped the metal bar and spat on the fat man. As it clattered to the ground de Pfeffel moaned, drifting in and out of consciousness. With a huge effort Mundy rolled and kicked the obese body to the edge of the dock. And after slowly searching his pockets for car keys, he gave de Pfeffel one final shove. After a splash and a little gurgling silence was restored.

Shuffling back in the direction from which de Pfeffel had come he found the fat man’s car. He threw open the doors and lay exhausted over the back seats, breathing heavily. He knew trying to drive in clothes stiffened by creosote would not be manageable and forced himself to searched the glove compartment. Sure enough he found the knife, still blood-stained, its sharp pointed blade matching the gash in his upper body, the gash which had had surely only missed his heart and aorta by millimetres. Struggling painfully, he cut off his clothes, leaving them in the back as he shuffled into the driver’s seat. It struck him that north of the border he’d been wearing the emperor’s new clothes for too long anyway. But he wondered again whether he’d made the right decision in trying to keep the piece of paper he’d found in the house he’d been ordered to burgle for himself. It hadn’t worked out. Not by a long way. But he’d read the handwritten, signed piece of paper and knew who would pay a king’s ransom to keep its existence secret. He no longer had it, but of course he’d read it. He knew the secret. And he knew who would push him a hefty wedge to keep his mouth shut. He turned the key and drove off, perfectly naked.

Pretty nervously fingered the crumpled and bloodied piece of paper in her coat pocket as she threaded her way through the streets to Arlene’s house. She halted in a doorway and rehearsed what she wanted to say. ‘Good evening Mrs Frost, I appreciate this visit might be unexpected. We haven’t met but Mr Reece has asked me to deliver something you wanted.’ Then what, demand cash in advance? ‘Of course I’ve also been asked to collect the payment.’ How much? Reece promised each of us a measly few hundred. But I’ve seen it now. It has to be worth a hell of a lot more to her than that. Forget it, forget it. Too late to negotiate. No traceable cheques or bank transfers. She has to have it in banknotes ready to pay Reece. The note says five hundred grand so it has to be thousands, tens of thousands. Just grab the money, give her the crappy little IOU, and go. Forget Jake and de Pfeffel. Take the dough and run. Get out fast. Spain. They’ll never find me.’ She smiled a private smile and resumed walking, briskly, purposefully.

A short flight of stone steps between black railings led up to the door. She climbed the steps and rang an obscenely large doorbell. She was disconcerted when a woman dressed as a maid of some kind swung open the door and in a noticeably Scots-Irish accent demanded her name and what business she had in calling there.

‘Listen, just tell Arlene - Mrs Frost – that it’s a friend, a friend she’d asked to get something for her.’ The maid screwed up her face in a dubious expression. ‘Just tell her!’ Pretty bawled. Stung, the maid pulled the door half shut and scurried off just as a car raced up the street and screeched to a halt outside the house. Pretty turned and observed dumbfounded as a naked man, his bruised and bleeding body marked with black stripes and splodges, got out the car and staggered towards her. She took a few tentative footsteps down the staircase towards this pitiful figure before the knife he’d held behind his back was suddenly pointing at her. She turned to run, but tripped on the steps, fell, and experienced a most peculiar sensation as the knife plunged into her back. She tried to get up, felt the blade once more as it ripped through the soft tissue under her shoulder blade, and collapsed again onto the stairs. The man had already retreated back into his car and was driving away when the maid pulled the door wide open, saw the horribly injured woman and the streaming blood and screamed. As her blood flowed Pretty’s thought was still that if both she and the secret survived then so would her blackmail leverage over the illustrious parties to the IOU. She summoned enough strength to speak. ‘Tell Arlene. Phone Terry. Madman on the loose. Either of them could be next.’

Mundy was in hardly better condition. Consciousness constantly threatened to desert him and his driving was increasingly erratic. But he almost laughed remembering the story Jake had spun of a lady gambler who’d won an IOU at a private party. Having drunk too much she’d stuffed it in the inside pocket of a coat hanging up in the hall which looked like hers but wasn’t. She’d only realized her mistake when she saw the real owner leaving the party wearing it. Jake working so hard at maintaining a deadly serious an expression, insisting that the gambler couldn’t ask the coat’s owner to return the note as she would then read it and realize her husband had lost an awful lot of money. And so, after speaking to a friend of a friend ‘who knew about these things’ the gambler had phoned Jake and arranged the burglary. Of course, the burglary had to be right away, that very night. No time to case the place. So Jake had called him and got Pret and de Pfeffel too, needed as back-up, lookout and driver. Minders more like. Of course, he was merely the expendable foot-soldier who had broken in, found the note, and got out again without a problem. But he’d read the note. It was no gambler’s IOU. It was a straightforward direct personal bribe, one politician to another. Half a million. The PM’s signature was unmistakeable. And the Arlene it was made out to wasn’t any old Arlene. She led the party from one of the forgotten countries of the united state whose votes the PM desperately needed to stay in power.

Mundy smiled a painful smile recollecting the instant he’d realized how much it meant to both politicians that the note remain secret. And he’d balanced that against the meagre two hundred he’d been promised for the job and found it wanting. Then he’d exited over the back garden wall rather than re-joining Pretty and de Pfeffel in the car.

Mundy had to pull up. He was hyperventilating, making the pain in his chest unbearable. Thinking about it was what was making the pain worse. How they’d spotted him on the side road trying to force a car to stop and pick him up. Of course it had mounted the pavement and accelerated past him. Then there was fatso de Pfeffel dragging him, beating him badly, openly discussing how to turn him into an unrecognisable stiff.

He knew the cut was way too close to his vital organs for him to survive like this much longer. But government was on holiday so he was in the country driving towards Terry’s private home. The delay to allow his breathing to ease gave him some time to think. How to blackmail them if he didn’t hold the hard evidence any more? They could both front it out, deny everything. And one way or another he knew the cops would soon be after him. He had to act quickly. He tossed the knife into a deep roadside ditch, spun the car round in a U-turn, and hit the accelerator.

When he arrived at the Daily Mercury’s office it was getting late. He staggered in, crossed the wide foyer still naked, bruised and stained black, and addressed the stunned receptionist. ‘Listen pal, this is urgent. I got to speak to the British home affairs editor. I got a story that might change the course of British history. All I’m asking is fifty grand, and a guarantee that he’ll keep his source secret, anonymous, and well protected.’ Eyes glancing nervously between the naked man and the handset, the receptionist made the call. But the night editor took a rather dim view of naked men harassing his staff late in the evening. Refusing to countenance Mundy’s unorthodox approach, he simply called the police on his hotline. Mundy couldn’t move fast enough and soon found himself clutching a rough grey blanket in a dimly lit police cell.

The up-market street providing Arlene with her pied à terre town house was now a blaze of lights and noise as the police and ambulance service made themselves busy. Arlene and her maid stood at the top the steps staring in disbelief. As Pretty was stretchered away she managed to fumble in her pocket before losing consciousness, felt the blood drenched IOU note was still there, and promised herself that someone was literally going to pay dearly for her suffering, even if she had to wait till she got out of prison to make it happen.

Arlene didn’t wait too long after that before deciding Jake had failed on his promise to deliver the note before morning. A loud knocking on his door forced Jake awake in the early hours. Assuming the usual wild drugged up kids of the estate were responsible he picked his way across his litter-strewn floor intending to do them some damage. But as he flung open the door three heavy-set men pushed past him, forcing their way in. Taken aback he was left asking, ‘What, rozzers? This a raid or something?’

‘No fella,’ came the Irish-accented response, ‘this is the price of failure.’ And Jake was fortunate. For the next few days he merely had to experience the delights of the local infirmary’s ICU.

And de Pfeffel hadn’t drowned. Pitched into the water his bloated body had touched bottom, briefly mingling with ancient scrap iron and more recently discarded bed springs and other detritus, but floating back to the surface again quite quickly. And the cold water caused the blubber mountain to regain consciousness. He floated on his back staring up at the clouded moon thinking he’d endured failures as bad and survived. So despite his terrible injury he was eventually able to haul himself out of the dock, find his car gone, and end up in hospital. There he made a complete recovery except for a little brain damage resulting in occasional symptoms akin to St Vitus Dance. De Pfeffel didn’t mind this strange effect. It reminded him that he’d danced with death and survived. Almost a dancing cadaver.

Terry had always needed someone to be keeping an eye on Arlene and those Arlene relied on for her ‘little private jobs’. That was de Pfeffel. Terry had used him as her inside man, inside monitoring the dark and dubious activities of the political world in which she tried surreptitiously to keep her friends close and her enemies even closer, where she tried to distinguish reality from obfuscation. So she found de Pfeffel a post in her official circle.

It was many months later, only when de Pfeffel was absolutely sure of the long-term fates suffered by Mundy, Pretty, and Jake, that he publicly re-emerged, making his continued existence known to all as he climbed the greasy pole.

And though Terry had rehabilitated him he still knew what he knew, and in time made it clear to her that he would have no qualms about using it, reinforcing the message by hiring Jake, now recovered and back living in squalor, as his assistant.

So the government and its ministers continued on their chaotic course, pursuing their peculiar and sometimes illegal activities. The shambolic PM prudently resigned in favour of yet another opportunistic charlatan, a fat man with even fewer moral scruples. And as all this occurred prior to the shit from Terry’s various nefarious activities hitting the fan it allowed such events to be treated retrospectively as just several more curious and inexplicable footnotes in the colourful old history of a rotten, decayed, and ruinous state once established by countries in a co-operative political union, a union that now hung by a thread.

#Reekie Revelator #scotland #politics #government #short story

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121distractions · 6 years ago

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21- CIGARETTE

I am in the 16th arrondissement but Martial is not there. And if I called Michel, the weird guy, he lives next door. A lady with a very 16th arrondissement accent answers. She screams, half of the hand on the handset, that it is for Michel but he does not come immediately, Michel must be far away. “Michel, it is for you, it is Philippe Claude,” said the impatient lady. I hear a very distant “I am coming”. These people live in a castle in the middle of Paris or what? No, I do not disturb, I can come if I want, there are books that I can come and borrow. I must note the code of the door of the building.

People always ask what is your highest quality, and right after your biggest flaw. You have to look surprised and say that you have no idea, that no one has ever asked, and pretend to improvise. “My greatest quality is sincerity, I think” Sincerity, it sounds good, and gives the right to say mistakes in the future. For the biggest flaw, it is more delicate, it is necessary to find a fault which is in fact a quality. Mine is curiosity and it is true, I am incurably curious. People then say that it is not really a flaw, it is almost a quality. And there, I give an example where my curiosity has put myself in an embarrassing situation and everyone laughs. The conversation is launched, each one tells his own adventure and I become suddenly someone very charming and witty. But in truth, if someone invites me to his home, I really cannot resist. Without lying. The most dubious people, living in uninhabitable places, if I am invited, I go there. Knowing that I will regret. I regret without really regretting. Is there anything like short-term regret? I am in a sordid place and I regret to be there at the moment but as soon as I left, I am so happy to have lived this intense moment. Today, I am invited to a castle, I will not refuse.

In 1984 in Paris, the punks do not exist, you have to be BCBG, be Good Chic and have Good Type. The top for the BCBGs is to live in the 16th arrondissement, but not any part of it. There is a golden triangle. Neuilly-Auteuil-Passy. The inhabitants of this triangle are the “NAPies” not to be confused with “Nappies”, these adults who have the fetish of diapers. Martial and Michel are NAPies.

There is a cut stone facade, mirrors, a concierge’s lodge with a Portuguese woman, a grand staircase and an old-fashioned lift with sliding railing. Everything is in its place. I am immediately advised, with a funny cliché Portuguese accent, not to use the lift, Mister van Lierde lives on the first floor. The door of the apartment is a gigantic double door with a doormat that occupies the entire width of the landing, not only there where one actually enters.

The lady on the phone opens the door, a cigarette in her hand, and tells me that Michel is waiting for me, it is the room in the back. The apartment is really like a castle, it is full of 18th century furniture.

I know the castles of the Loire well. All the castles of the Loire. I even knew one of the guides of the castle of Cheverny, the inspiration for the castle of Moulinsart in Tintin. There are two kinds of castles along the Loire, the private and the others; national or heritage site or Unesco or anything with subsidies. The private usually belong to families who manage somehow to maintain and repair their estate organizing visits of a part of their home and appealing to the good heart of tourists. The antique furniture is gathered in the historic wing. “Francois 1st slept one night in this bed. One ancestor of my first cousin was Napoleon’s companion in arms. The fireplace dates from the first construction in the twelfth century …” The impressed visitors walk on the scratched wooden floor between the shabby furniture and imagine a past full of grandeur. A creperie is improvised in the outbuildings and a gift shop in the stables. That is all there is to it, the repairs of the dungeon will begin next year, … or maybe the following one. By bike, it is all flat, it is along the Loire, and if everything is well prepared, between the big and small castles, an extraordinary building is to be found each 10 kilometers. For some small castles, you have to make an appointment to see them but all are absolutely seeable.

At Michel, it is not Renaissance style, it is very Louis XV. It is full of chests of drawers, glass cases, secretaries and books. The books are everywhere and the library covers two whole walls. On an ugly stained carpet, wing chairs are upholstered with a green velvet discolored by the light; they look sagging but very comfortable. A book is placed there with the armrest of one of the wing chair as a bookmark. The lady settles there, adjusts her glasses, uses her cigarette butt to light a new one.

I am in front of the door of the room in the back and it is closed. I cast desperate glances around me but the lady resumed her reading and do not see me. I am in a haunted castle, all alone in the middle of the corridor, with ghosts ignoring me. Perplexed, I knock on the door and I hear “Come inside Philippe and close the door behind you.” There is no more formal addressing but Michel is sitting on his bed with his legs stretched out, all dressed, smoking with a book in his hands. What a staging! He is re-reading Proust. To read Proust, it is already so snobbish, but here re-reading Proust, I haveve never heard anything so hysterical! No, I only studied “The madeleine” at school, and no I did not know that the Marcel Proust’s young girls in bloom were actually boys. I am invited to sit down and I have the impression of having to attend the levee of the king, or of the queen, I do not know very well any more.

For me, homosexuality is not a detail, it is a fight, a daily struggle for the recognition of basic rights denied to gays. I do not consider myself an activist, but our community must be united and active. Staying at home reading books, it is not very productive in the end. He asks me if I want to smoke a cigarette. I do not smoke.

I will never say that I was raised in the faith of Jehovah’s Witnesses and that it was strictly forbidden to smoke. But I gladly tell my single try. When I was 15 and my parents were away for the weekend, I decided to break all the taboos. I will drink alcohol, smoke and go to a nightclub. Alcohol would be whiskey and I would put Coca-Cola in it. Even Coke was forbidden, this product of a materialistic and mercantile society. The cigarettes are Marlboro. The pack cost 7 francs, it was expensive. In high school many smoked, some in secret. 15 years old was the age when smoking parents allowed their children to smoke. The worst was “to crap”, pretending to smoke. It was necessary to swallow the smoke making noise and reject it, after a long time, without any noise. I stood in front of the big mirror at the entrance to the apartment and trained. Inhale Exhale. Nothing to do with gymnastics. Inhale Exhale. I was looking at myself in the mirror and I could not take the right position. My hands remained awkward, my attitude clumsy. I had smoked the entire Marlboro package in two days and had done an assessment. - At the age of 15, the cigarette experience is not for me, as it is for teens of my age, a social experience. It is a scientific research, with an analysis. I am a little disturbed but I do not realize it - I made a study where the meaning and usefulness of the cigarette had not been demonstrated. It was enormously restrictive, smoking in secret would be really complicated, and in addition it brought no pleasure. I could see the nonchalance and phlegm associated with smokers on trendy cafe terraces but I would never get there. The wannabe part of it without making it was just ridiculous. 7 francs to look ridiculous, it was an expensive price. The cigarette was only for me an attitude, no pleasant sensation of taste, smell or any pleasure in general could be associated with it. I threw away my empty package, promising never to smoke in my life, and I was there. The truth is, even if I had not experienced any pleasure, those poor 20 cigarettes had created a kind of mini-habit. I had wondered if the secret of smoking was not simply satisfying a need that had been created artificially. I had so many needs that already existed, I did not see the interest of creating a new one so expensive.

Michel listens to the expurgated version of my experience, makes smoke rings and asks me if the smoke disturbs me. I am not the coolest but I am not an old fart. All my friends are super cool and all smoke, so that does not bother me at all. In fact, I am suspicious of people who do not smoke, it is weird. Yes, I am weird too, but I look after myself, I look for the company of normal people, … who smoke. I speak and try to be amusing. I do not realize that what I say does not matter. I am pretty and desirable, it could be enough but I always have to prove something, a social and intellectual ability that is not there at the base. I say that the smoke does not bother me but the truth is that I learned to be able to bear this terrible odor. I think my sense of smell is more developed than average, I react violently to odors. There are three things whose smell disgusts me and these are the most social things, the cigarette, the beer and the coffee. I am (or want to be, I do not really know anymore) a social person, so I got used to these barbaric rituals around me. Without laughing, the smell of a cold ashtray makes me feel sick! But really, if people put their noses over a beer, can they still want to drink it? It is worse than the smell of piss, right? Do not talk about cold coffee, unbearable! I do not say anything about my peculiarities. I am not even sure I am really aware of it, I am too unsecure to say such provocative things anyway. The story will end only with the ridiculousness of my appearance by trying to smoke in front of the mirror. I apologize for not smoking by invoking ridicule.

I am intrigued by Julien Green and I would like to borrow one of his novels. I am going to see, it is extraordinary. Michel finally gets up and three pretty yellowish little fascicles of the NRF are immediately in my hands. As soon as I read them I will be able to return to exchange them for others. I read very quickly, I will certainly be there the following week. But it would be with great pleasure. I will be escorted to the door? What politeness with the well-mannered people! The lady is standing up and holds out her hand. Do I have to hand kiss her? No, the hand is pretty soft but the words are enthusiastic. It is such a pleasure to see Michel receive a visit, I absolutely have to come for dinner one night. “Mom, you see that you are making Philippe uncomfortable!” The lady is Michel’s mother! Michel is 25 years old and he still lives with his parents! These people are really out of the ordinary!

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livinginlandmarketing · 4 years ago

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It’s been more than a year now since Jehovah’s Witnesses have gone knocking on people’s doors, and according to representatives for the faith group, even after the coronavirus pandemic ends, they may not resume going door to door — a longstanding tradition and act of perseverance for which the community is widely known.

In March 2020, when much of the country went into lockdown to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, the church closed all public meetings at its 13,000 congregations in the U.S., including 1,097 congregations in Southern California serving 150,000 members in 30 different languages.

“We shut down all public ministry, including going door to door, as well as in-home Bible studies for the first time ever in our church’s history,” said Robert Hendriks, national spokesman for Jehovah’s Witnesses. “This was the first time ever in the history of our church that we stopped all kinds of public engagement.”

No more door-knocking?

The church also canceled 5,600 conventions in 240 countries, something it didn’t do during the Spanish Flu pandemic in 1918, which infected about 500 million people worldwide and killed 50 million, Hendriks said.

“We just wanted to make sure that our meetings, ministries and conventions did not cause the spread of this deadly disease,” he added. “It’s unfathomable for us as a people or organization to be held responsible for the deaths of others. It’s irreconcilable with our Christian values and what we preach.”

Despite that knowledge, stopping the door-to-door ministry was a “disorienting event” for practitioners of the faith because evangelism is an inextricable part of their core belief system, Hendricks said.

“People like me grew up knocking on doors and I’ve done that since I was old enough to walk,” Hendriks said. But, he added, “we found we could be effective using other forms of ministry like letter-writing and phone calls. Spirituality is not about a building or being with one another in person. It can still thrive when we’re connected virtually or otherwise. We’re still connecting emotionally, socially and spiritually.”

Jillian Mahard, 10, writes a letter to a neighbor in their Whittier, CA, home on Thursday, May 6, 2021. The family of Jehovah’s Witnesses is writing letters instead of knocking on doors to spread their faith. (Photo by Jeff Gritchen, Orange County Register/SCNG)

The pandemic may leave a permanent mark on Jehovah’s Witnesses by ending door-to-door ministry, even after restrictions ease, he said.

“It’s just hard to say if or when that can happen again,” Hendriks said. “There’s no question that meeting people face to face is the most powerful way to reach hearts. But there are many unknowns. We don’t know how resilient the virus is, how it could mutate and whether we’ll reach herd immunity. Even if the danger of community spread is gone, when will someone be comfortable with someone else knocking on their door again?”

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The art of letter-writing

Reaching people through handwritten letters and phone calls seems “different,” even intimidating at first, said Whittier resident Kevin Mahard.

“It’s different from speaking in person and reading someone’s body language from which you can get a sense of them and they can see how genuine you are,” he said. “But then, with door-knocking, sometimes people wouldn’t answer the door. You’d see cars in the driveway, but no one would open the door.”

Now Mahard, his wife, Jennifer, and 10-year-old daughter, Jillian, write letters to their neighbors. He says this approach seems effective.

“People seem to read hand-written letters addressed to them,” he said. “It’s like when I got a postcard from my grandma. It is personal and lets them know that I’m a neighbor with genuine concern for them.”

They find their neighbors by going online and looking at public records for addresses and phone numbers of people and families in their ZIP code to whom they can reach out.

Lisa Brown of Anaheim said that this pivot during the pandemic has introduced her sons, Nathan, 14, and Noah, 10, to the long-lost art of letter-writing. Her sons get on Zoom with others in their congregation, and write the letters together, she said.

“They have to focus on their penmanship and make sure it’s legible,” Brown said. “They have to identify themselves, their age and the purpose of the letter.”

They pick from templates that offer different topics such as hope, comfort, dealing with sickness, the pandemic and the loss of a loved one, and connect those topics with a Scripture verse that would bring comfort to someone reading the letter, Brown explained, adding that older recipients appreciate the letters even more because they are personal and uncommon these days.

Nathan Brown said writing has helped him develop patience.

“It also helps me bond with others,” he said. “When we’re with our friends (on Zoom) writing letters, it gives us comfort knowing that we’re not the only ones being restricted.”

Same message, new delivery

Other faith groups such as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, also known for their missionary outreach, have stopped knocking on doors and resorted to social media and videoconferencing as a way to communicate with their neighbors.

“Our social media activity has increased tenfold,” said Marshall McKinnon, president of the church’s San Bernardino Mission. “For the last year, we’ve not approached anyone in person. Over the last month or so, with restrictions relaxing, some of our members have started approaching people in public locations like parks, but with masks on and socially distanced.”

With the pandemic, the church has also placed a strong emphasis on acts of community service such as volunteering in food banks or helping neighbors, he said.

“The pandemic has certainly helped us realize how we can be more effective with social media,” McKinnon said. “Door-knocking might be out the door.”

Though she misses the face-to-face communication that comes from door-knocking, Lisa Brown said she doesn’t dwell on what she can’t do or what she may not be able to do in the future because those thoughts can be negative and overwhelming.

“I try not to think too far ahead,” she said. “I just try to think of today. It’s hard not to meet people in person. But we’re still trying to bring love and comfort in ways that we can. Thinking of today keeps the focus on the benefits and blessings we have right now instead of dwelling on what we don’t have.”

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Ontario resident Hannah Maisel who attends the Mountain View Hindi-speaking congregation in Riverside said she finds writing letters and making phone calls in a language she is still learning “enjoyable.” She’s also been writing letters of comfort to Indian families, many of whom are dealing with the trauma of seeing the coronavirus pandemic ravage the nation.

“It just breaks my heart to see what’s happening in India,” Maisel said.

If the Jehovah’s Witnesses stop knocking on doors, that doesn’t mean they stop delivering their message, she said.

“I feel like we reach more people now because we don’t have to deal with gated communities and barking dogs,” Maisel said. “I’d love to see the door-to-door ministry come back. But if it doesn’t, I’m happy to do what I need to do.”

-on May 07, 2021 at 12:31PM by Deepa Bharath

#riversidenews

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touchmyspinebookreviews · 7 years ago

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As the janitor in a haunted house, single mom Abby Jenkins has many contacts with the living and the dead in the small Pacific Northwest town of Sunset Cove, which puts her in a perfect position to solve local mysteries. Or so she thinks. Hired to find diamonds hidden in a haunted manor she gets help from a Viking ghost with existential issues. Will she survive? This book contains bad-boy ghosts, mischievous magic, and a woman who knows what she wants in a Viking hayloft.

A fun and spooky novel that will make you laugh and have you staying up late! I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and am anxious to see what the author has in store for us next!💜

Quinn Bellandini loves her life in Savannah, Georgia, where she runs her grandfather’s B&B with her sister, Delilah. From baking fresh scones and serving up grits every morning to ensuring the guests see the best of their historic city, Quinn can’t imagine doing anything else—even if it means dealing with nuisances like the occasional malfunctioning commode. But when Quinn drops by the local restaurant owned by her friend Drew Green, and stumbles upon a murder, her whole world comes crashing down.

Drew’s brother was always a little surly, but Quinn can’t imagine that someone disliked the prickly chef enough to kill him. The police, on the other hand, don’t believe that Quinn was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Before her guests can even digest the next morning’s gourmet breakfast, Quinn learns that she and Drew are suspects.

Drew thinks they should do some investigating of their own. Quinn is pretty sure she’s better suited to playing hostess than amateur sleuth. But with Delilah as her cynical sidekick, Quinn starts looking for the real killer—before she gets put away faster than you can say “sugar.”

Don’t miss Caroline Fardig’s thrilling Java Jive mysteries, which can be read together or separately: DEATH BEFORE DECAF | MUG SHOT | A WHOLE LATTE MURDER | BREW OR DIE | MURDER OVER MOCHAS

I just loved this cozy mystery!!! This was a fantastic start to an enjoyable series that many will love! I love stories that are based in the south.! Living in Charleston, SC, I am an hour from Savannah and have visited often! I love the descriptions of the setting in this story, the fun characters and steady paced plot! When I read the Java Jive series, I just knew this would become an instant favorite! Caroline Fardig is an author that should not be missed! I want to thank the publishers and NetGalley for providing me with an eARC I exchange for an honest review. I appreciate this opportunity and all views expressed are my own.

Tucson, Arizona is a place for runaways. Everyone came from somewhere else and has a story about what they left behind.

Delilah arrives on her brother’s doorstep with a secret. She hasn’t seen him in five years. He ran away from their family long ago for reasons no one talks about and she still doesn’t understand. The stress of raising his teenage daughter alone sometimes makes David envious of his deliberately childless friends, Tim and Sara, but they’re runaways too, harboring secrets of their own. Blood & Water tells their stories and traces the deep connections between this unlikely group of friends.

This novel is about family, in its various manifestations: the one you’re born into, the one you choose and the one you create.

Wow! This book was absolutely sensational! With coming from a troubled and traumatic past and my current situation, I could relate to this story in many ways. This story was very well written with a fast paced plot that many would enjoy. So many of the books I read from this genre end up being the same thing, different people in the jist of it all but this story is a custom told tale that will surely win the hearts of many! I highly recommend this book.

Linda Curtis was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness and is an unquestioning true believer who has knocked on doors from the time she was nine years old. Like other Witnesses, she has been discouraged from pursuing a career, higher education, or even voting, and her friendships are limited to the Witness community.

Then one day, at age thirty-three, she knocks on a door—and a coworker she deeply respects answers the door. To their mutual consternation she launches into her usual spiel, but this time, for the first time ever, the message sounds hollow. In the months that follow, Curtis tries hard to overcome the doubts that spring from that doorstep encounter, knowing they could upend her “safe” existence. But ultimately, unable to reconcile her incredulity, she leaves her religion and divorces her Witness husband—a choice for which she is shunned by the entire community, including all members of her immediate family.

Shunned follows Linda as she steps into a world she was taught to fear and discovers what is possible when we stay true to our hearts, even when it means disappointing those we love.

This book was fantastic!!!😍 It was beautifully written and powerful! As someone who lost themselves and was hurt because of being kicked out of my church, I could relate in some ways to this book. I loved and appreciated the honesty this book had to offer and I highly recommend this book to others!

She’s more modest than Ms. Blaise, but peels more than Ms. Emma. She out-vamps Vampirella, but she’s sweeter than Honey West. She put the mod in model, and the bangs in bang-bang. Now the world can know the truth: her classified adventures back in 1951 Hollywood have been declassified. Dynamite, David Avallone and Colton Worley are proud to present The Secret Diary of Bettie Page, in handy comic book form. This volume collects Issues 1-4 of Bettie Page and an exclusive short story illustrated by Joseph Michael Linsner, originally published in Playboy Magazine, with an introduction by writer David Avallone.

A Fantastic and fun graphic novel featuring the one and only Bettie Page! I thought this book was fun and made me laugh on a few occasions. I definitely recommend this to those who love Bettie Page!💜

It’s love that makes a family

When a boy confides in his friend about bullies saying he doesn’t have a real family, he discovers that his friend’s parents—a mom and a dad—and his two dads are actually very much alike.

Dr. Michael Genhart’s debut story is the perfect resource to gently discuss discrimination with kids. This sweet and straightforward story shows that gay families and straight families and everything in between are all different kinds of normal. What makes a family real is the love that is shared.

A conversation between two kids at school uses real-life examples, like how their parents got married, to show readers that gay is another kind of normal and that same-sex parents are just like other parents when it comes to loving each other and loving their kids.

This was a fantastic book and many can learn from this read. Either children or adults can benefit from this story. As a woman in a diverse family where my children have two dads and two moms, I think books like this are important for us to learn that ‘Love is Love’.

Thanks so much for visiting my blog, my Loves! I can’t wait until I get to spam visit all of your amazing blogs! I have missed you so much, my amazing and talented friends. I feel the blogosphere is more like family. You guys are amazing!! Xoxox Yay for trying to catch up on my backlist! *hides in shame* Please Lord, help me catch up. My ass is so far behind, I almost forgot I had one!

Book Buffet, All You Can Read Part 3 As the janitor in a haunted house, single mom Abby Jenkins has many contacts with the living and the dead in the small Pacific Northwest town of Sunset Cove, which puts her in a perfect position to solve local mysteries.

#ARC #bibliophile #book review #book reviews #book-blog #books #goodreads #I follow back #netgalley

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hikerlady · 7 years ago

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5.5 Recap

This is for @seven-dragons since she did the same for me when I was in purgatory at my mom’s house out of town and did not have an Internet connection. In case the title does not make it obvious, this post is full of *SPOILERS*

The show starts off with Ethan Young, a Jehovah’s Witness knocking on doors, or ‘witnessing.’ Apparently, the hatred of having random people knock on your door in the middle of the day is universal. He keeps getting the door slammed in his face, which lets us see he has a bit of a temper. He runs into the victim and it is obvious they had planned to meet about something, but the victim tells him to come back later (he’s angry too). Some people, who turn out to be the victim’s niece and her husband stop by the house and find Ethan, covered in blood and kneeling over the victim’s body.

*Roll credits and awesome DBM theme song*

Lucien joins Charlie in the victim’s work shed. The victim’s name is Vern, and he is a retired carpenter who was stabbed repeatedly...as acted out by Lucien.

Back at the Police Station, Charlie and Lucien interview Ethan. Ethan tells them Vern was still breathing when he got there, and insists he tried to find something to stop the bleeding. When asked why he was looking all creepy and kneeling over Vern’s body when the niece found him, he tells them he was praying for Vern because he had not been able to convert him. He did tell a little lie during the interview, but it’s really not that important. I did learn more about the Jehovah’s Witnesses during this interview than I have ever learned before, so that’s something. This show is so educational.

Funny Scene - Alice is not in the morgue when Lucien gets there, so he starts without her. Alice is NOT happy. She actually seems wounded that he started his talking to the dead body bit and didn't wait for her. Anyway, they find a weird fragment in one of the wounds. Lucien makes sure it is okay with Alice if he brings it home to test it, which is kind of sweet.

*Going to pick this up a bit or this will take forever*

Charlie and Lucien go to the niece’s house, where the main takeaway is that her husband is a hot tempered jerk.

Back at the police station, Ethan’s mother is having a meltdown. Her friend and ride to the station, a guy named Percy, tells Lawson that he worked with Vern. He also tells Lawson that Ethan is his apprentice. Ethan’s mother, who needs a serious intervention about her overuse of rollers for her bangs - is scaring the crap out of poor Ned. Important takeaway, Ethan’s mother is a bit on the high strung/pain in the ass side. She is not happy they are keeping her son locked up and insists on spending the night in the corridor.

Lucien visits Ethan in the cells to make sure he is okay. I love these scenes, where Lucien shows compassion to people who probably have not received much in their lives. Charlie interrupts them to say that Lucien “better come quick” because he is needed at home.

HUUUUH? What happened?

Jean burned her arm because she thought she saw someone outside....a hot potato accident. Lucien is concerned about her seeing this someone, but she just shakes her head and says she was not sure anyone was there. We get to see Lucien bandaging her arm, and Lucien apologizes and acknowledges that the divorce and the business with the church must be weighing heavily on her mind. Jean seems touched that he has noticed, but insists she's fine and he needs to go back to work.

Lucien and Charlie are back at the scene of the crime to see if the killer could have murdered Vern and escaped in three minutes. The important thing about this scene is that Lucien has rubbed off on Charlie, who is now acting out the crime scenes too. Oh, the murderer could have killed Vern and escaped in time. Also, there are some discrepancies which leads them to believe that the killer looked for something that was hidden in the work shop. They do find a bag from a bakery and over 2000 pounds hidden all over the place.

This leads them to a secret gambling ring, which is this week’s red herring. It seems like Vern was murdered because everyone thought he was cheating them out of money. The big thing we learn is that gambling brings out the worst in people and the niece’s husband is still a big jerk. The most important thing we learn is that Lawson’s dad was a gambler and he was not much fun to live with as a boy.

Rose drops by the house and Jean’s spidey senses tell her that something is on Rose’s mind. Turns out Rose thinks she is pregnant with Charlie’s baby - it’s ultimately a false alarm. Rose isn’t exactly excited about something ruining her career. The BIG REVEAL - Jean was pregnant at 19 before she married Christopher. She had a miscarriage and it was a girl. She never told anyone else and felt her miscarriage was her punishment for their transgression against God. Will she tell Lucien at some point?????

Charlie gets hit with a tool box by the niece’s jerk husband, but the husband runs into Lucien who pushes him down like he is a feather lite bowling pin. I’m skipping over a bunch of gambling stuff.

Jean and Lucien are back in the lab and Jean is being all sciency again! I love how Lucien is teaching her all this lab stuff. They identify the fragment that was found in Vern’s neck as copper.

Uh Oh, Jean is talking to Father Emery again. Jean tells him the whole history of the Mei Lin ordeal and Father Emery seems to sympathize with their situation, but stands firm on the position of the church. Jean tells him she needs to hear him say it. He tells her she has to choose between Lucien and the church. When Jean says she doesn't think she can make that choice, he tells her to ask God for guidance. Greeeaaaat. Thanks for the help Father! Actually, he does seem sad that Jean is in this position, but he kinda works for a company that has really strict policies, so his hands are tied.

Charlie and Lucien search Vern’s house again. They find a lot of things that lead them nowhere, but Lucien works out that Vern was illiterate (comes into play later). They also find a secret savings account for his niece.

Back to Ethan’s mom’s house. I was hoping they were interrupting the Rollers in the bangs intervention, but the people were just Jehovah’s Witnesses.

She tells them Ethan is working, which leads them to find him impaled and bleeding. Lucien has to assist in surgery, and uses saline instead of giving him a blood transfusion due to Ethan’s religious beliefs. I was surprised and a little impressed that a man who seems to have such little respect for religion, would still respect another’s beliefs so much. That’s our Lucien though. We also get to see Lucien in scrubs as a bonus.

Cute scene where Lawson helps out the niece. They thought she was skipping town, but she was actually running away from her jerk husband. Lawson, who understands what it’s like to live with a compulsive gambler, basically tells her to leave town while her hubby is locked up. He also gives her the bank account info so she has money for her and her kids.

Jean drinks Lucien’s whiskey again. And, Lucien kisses jean before leaving.

FINALLY! The scene we have been waiting for happens with 10 minutes left in the show. Lucien finds a patent for an electric drill that would have made Vern very rich. Percy shows up and Lucien does his big reveal about Percy being jealous. Percy thought he should be included on the patent too. Ethan told Percy he was helping Vern with he paperwork for the drill, which is why Percy tried to kill Ethan. He needed him out of the way. It’s just like the other episodes, where Lucien explains the mystery to the murderer. Buuuut, unlike the other times, there are no police officers waiting in the wings. Oops. Percy stabs Lucien, but Lucien bashes Percy over the head even after he was stabbed. Bravo Lucien. Lucien has to use his own pen as a chest tube to release the pressure of a tension pneumothorax. Just before blacking out, he sees the silhouette of a man in the doorway. First Jean, now Lucien. Munro perhaps?

Although I was really hoping we would see Jean find out about Lucien getting stabbed and see her all worried before he regained consciousness, the bedside scenes were very nice and intimate. When Lucien wakes up, he says, “Ah, Ive missed dinner haven't I?” The best was Alice though. She was soooo excited about Lucien using his own pen as a chest draining tube and wants to ask a bunch of questions after he wakes up. The look Jean gives her is priceless.

Also, as Charlie is walking out, Lucien says goodnight. Charlie calls him boss. His reply is “Night boss.” Ha

Just when you think that Lucien is about to drop some serious bad news (music and all) after he tells Jean there is something he needs to tell her, he just says he is a throughly bad patient. They giggle and then Jean basically tells him he needs to be more careful, that she almost lost him that night. He basically says he will be more careful by replying, “Understood.” I am a thousand percent certain that he will not change at all.

All in all, this was another wonderful episode!

The End. Thank god.

#The Doctor Blake Mysteries #tdbm #Jean x Lucien #Craig McLachlan #5.5 #doctor blake

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fandom-imagination · 7 years ago

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𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 ~ 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚍

Imagine: Hailee is a Winchester. One of the most notorious hunter families. Though years ago she left her brothers to hunt a different kind of monster. Now, Hailee works with the BAU, a group known for sending serial killers to jail. When a case brings her home she decides to visit her brothers, who she hadn't seen in over five years. Though it wouldn't be a Winchester family reunion if drama didn't follow.Hailee has to navigate her family business intertwining with her work life, and all the danger that it brings.

A/N: So this is the first part of a series called Hailstorm. I began writing this story years ago and just found it while I was looking through some old files on my computer. I fell in love with the idea again after reading it again and decided to post it on here (and Wattpad). I have been wanting to post an AU where a fandom in the real world meets a fandom from a fantasy world to see how the real world characters interact with the fantastical elements. To give context this story doesn't really take place during a season in either show. But somewhere around season 12 in Supernatural (Jack is part of the story) and season 11 of Criminal Minds. Like very loosely around these seasons. Somethings may not line up perfectly with the shows regarding timelines in order to fit in this story. I wanted to include certain characters from each show and certain plot points from each show. Enough with my rambling, I hope you guys enjoy the first part of Hailstorm.

I REWROTE THE ORIGINAL VERSION! THIS IS THE UPDATED/EDITED VERSION!

𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖 ~ 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚍

"Our universe grants every soul a twin-a reflection of themselves -the kindred spirit – And no matter where they are or how far away they are from each other- even if they are in different dimensions, they will always find one another. This is destiny; this is love."

– Julie Dillon

A random warehouse type building stood tall in the middle of Lebanon, Kansas, a town smaller than most malls. To the unassuming eye, this building was a random warehouse or abandoned building. But to hunters like Hailee, it was a disguise to protect the research of the men of letters. Or what she liked to call the closest thing to a home.

Hailee stood at the end of the path, just staring up at the bunker. She hadn’t stepped foot in the bunker in over five years. She hadn’t even come back to Lebanon or seen her brothers in this time. Yet, she had the irresistible urge to visit the bunker at the end of her last case with the FBI. Now, Hailee found herself at the foot of the path staring at the building she once called a home.

Hailee shook out the feeling of apprehension and walked up the path. Even though she knew she wasn’t really ready to be back, there was something pulling at her to be here. She stood at the door a moment because she couldn't decide whether she should just walk in or if she should knock. There was a time that she called this place her home, but that time had long since passed.

Before she could make her mind up the door swung open, revealing a dark haired man in a trench coat. Ever the man of few human emotions, Cass stood in the doorway wearing a blank expression. She engulfed him in a tight hug, “Cass! Oh my god, it’s been so long!

“Hailee! What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice still held that monotonous tone.

“We just finished a case in town, and I couldn’t pass up a chance to visit!” she cheered. A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re here right?”

“Yes,” Cass began. She stepped around him to head further into the bunker, but stopped when he said, “It’s really nice to see you. We all missed you.”

“Thanks, Cass. I missed you too.”

The bunker smelled just like it did when she was younger, a mix of old books and beer. A nostalgic feeling washed over her and it was if she was a teenager all over again. All the nights she spent awake researching random supernatural creatures. The sips she would steal from Dean’s beer, he left lying around -- sometimes she thought on purpose. Saving people. Hunting things. The family business.

“Moose! Squirrel! I’m home!”

“Aren’t you a little old to still call us that?” Sam asked. A smile spread across Hailee’s lips hearing the familiar voice. Sam leaned on the doorframe that led to the library.

“Aren’t you a little old to still be living with your brother?” She quipped. He shook his head and chuckled.

“Touché.”

He jogged the short distance towards her, wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight hug. She nestled her head against his chest. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this place until she was back. For a while all she wanted to do was run away and join the “real” world. Now, finally hugging her brother for the first time in years and basking in the dust of the bunker, a feeling of homesickness sunk deep into her heart.

“Ah, little bitch is back!” Dean cheered. Dean strolled into the galley, holding out his arms for a hug. Hailee’s relationship with Dean was weird to say the least. Her relationship with both brothers was weird to be honest. You don’t grow up hunting monsters with your brothers not to develop a strange connection.

“Not like I missed hearing that,” Hailee said, rolling her eyes. She ran up to him and jumped into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, lifting my small frame and spinning her around like he used to do when she was younger. Dean had already graduated high school when she came into their lives and acted like a surrogate father from that point on. “But I did miss that.”

“I missed you too.”

“Is she still here?” Hailee asked, breaking the hug to look up at Dean’s face.

“Where else would she be?” Dean asked, as he pulled a set of keys from his back pocket, jingling them in front of her before dropping them into her eagerly outstretched hands. “As soon as I heard you, I grabbed the keys.”

“Yay! Thank you!” Hailee screeched . She gave him another quick hug before running off, only to be stopped short by a knock at the door to the bunker.

The three exchanged confused looks. No one, literally no one visits the bunker. With most of their friends in other parts of the country, it doesn’t make sense that someone would come knocking on their door. Hailee asked, “Who the hell could that be?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered just as Dean said, “Jehovah’s Witnesses?”

“If it’s a Jehovah’s Witness or Scientologist, tell them we’re Satanists. They should go running for the hills,” Hailee said.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean nudged her shoulder to ask for a fist bump. They bumped fists as Sam jogged up the stairs toward the front door. Sam’s voice carried across the room. “We’re Sat-”

Sam walked across the balcony, scratching the back of his neck. A moment later, another tall lanky man walked across the balcony. Sam asked, “Hailee, do you, uh, want to introduce us?”

“What are you doing here Spencer?” Hailee shouted. Hailee made sure no one saw her leave the hotel. She didn’t want anyone from her team to know where she was going or who she was going to see. She kept her life a secret. There was no way she was going to let her group of profiler friends know that her family’s business was hunting monsters, they’d surely lock her up in a mental hospital.

“You have been acting suspicious lately, I got worried,” Spencer answered sheepishly, walking towards Hailee only to stop and stare at Dean. “Weren’t you on the FBI’s most wanted list like 6 years ago for a whole list of crimes including murder? And aren’t you both supposed to be dead?”

Hailee’s mouth dropped open. Curse Reid for having an eidetic memory. And curse her brothers for being former FBI most wanted criminals . Hailee replied to him, “No, no. Dean, why don’t you tell him?”

Dean gave her an incredulous look, shaking his head, “No this is your problem little sis.”

“Bitch,” She mumbled, under her breath.

“Slut,” he responded with just as much sass, although not as discreetly. Hailee turned her body enough to conceal her flipping him off .

“Do you mind explaining to me what’s going on?” Spencer asked. He held his hand on the waistband of his pants, where Hailee knew he kept his gun.

“Ok, first off-” Hailee began before being interrupted by the horribly timed Cass returning from his convenience store run.

“Hey, who is this?” Cass asked, eyeing Spencer.

“Isn’t that the missing James Novak too?” Spencer exclaimed. “I don’t know what’s going on right now, but all I see are people who have been reported as missing or are convicted criminals.”

“They’re not criminals,” Hailee said, even though she knew that wasn’t true. In their line of business it’s hard not to do the frequent illegal thing, but it was always for the greater good. However, Spencer wouldn’t understand. Him being an FBI agent and person living in the real world and all.

Spencer glanced at the ground. Dean’s fake FBI badge sat open on the ground between their feet. The next moments happened in slow motion. Spencer pulled out his gun, directing it at Dean. Dean’s eyes went comically wide and he held his arms up in surrender. Cass dropped the bag of groceries in his hand. Cans clinked together and a stray tomato rolled out of the bag. He pulled an angel blade from the sleeve of his trench coat. Spencer redirected his gun to Cass.

“That can’t do anything to me,” Cass stated, motioning to Spencer’s gun.

“What do you mean? It’s a gun?” Spencer exclaimed. The only thing that crossed Hailee’s mind was Please don’t say what I think you're going to say.

“Because I am an angel of the lord.”

“Castiel!” Hailee shouted, beyond aggravation.

The feeling of happiness and nostalgia disappeared as quickly as it had come. One of Hailee’s worst fears looked her right in the eyes in this moment. Spencer, the man of facts and books and what you see is what’s real, finding out about her past. Hailee’s mind drifted from everything happening at that moment. The shouts from the men around her sounded like they were miles away. All Hailee wanted was to disappear. If she had known this was going to happen she never would have come home. Honestly, she still didn’t understand why she even wanted to come back to the bunker in the first place.

“Everyone go sit down,” Hailee said, a calm tone to her voice.

“I don’t ha-” Dean began, but Hailee’s death glare made him shut his mouth.

The four men rushed to take a seat at a table in the library. Hailee sat at the head of the table with Sam and Dean to her left and Spencer and Cas to her right. Spencer noticeably shifted in his seat to create as much distance between himself and the man beside him.

“So, first I guess I should introduce everyone. These are Sam and Dean, my older brothers. And this is Cass, you already know what he is,” Hailee explained.

“Wait you actually believe him?” Spencer said and whipped his head to stare at Hailee in shock. Hailee nodded briefly before continuing.

“Guys, this is Spencer Reid, my coworker, and uh… boyfriend.”

Dean’s dismissive expression morphed into that of a protective older brother. He was always distrustful of the people Hailee dated. He never believed someone could be good enough. Sam watched Spencer warily. He was also an overprotective brother but more the “I’m skeptical but trust your decisions.”

Cass, again oblivious, outstretched his hand, “Nice to meet you Spencer.”

"I don't shake hands. It spreads to many germs," Spencer said. Hailee was unsure whether he said that simply because it was true or to avoid Cass at all costs. Cass pulled his hand back and dropped his attention to the table. Spencer turned to Hailee, his eyes burning with anger, “You mean to tell me he is an angel of the lord? Just reassure that I gauged your answer correctly.”

Hailee’s heart sunk in her chest. She assumed Spencer would take some convincing but not that he would be so angry. Pain shown through her next words, “Spencer, what I am telling you, and about to tell you, is all the truth. Monsters, they’re real. What my brothers do, what I used to do, is hunt them.”

“I can’t believe you're pulling all this. Lying to me, just to cover their tracks. I thought you had more trust in me than that!” Spencer said, abruptly standing from his seat. He stormed out of the bunker without saying another word or giving Hailee a chance to explain.

Hailee blinked a few times, staring at the empty space Spencer once occupied. She was pulled back to reality by my Dean’s next words, “That was a dick move.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Hailee growled, pushing her own chair back as she stood up. She stomped off, only turning back to utter her next words before walking off down the hall, “I wish you never convinced Dad to let me stay with you guys. I wish I just went into foster care to live in blissful oblivion, without you.”

“Go away!” Hailee shouted at the person who insistently knocked at the door. Even with her constant yelling, they kept knocking. She abruptly picked up a pillow and threw it towards the door.

“Hey… Hailee. Can I come in please?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

Hailee pushed herself off the bed and threw open the door. Standing in the entryway, hand still raised to knock, was a smiling Jack. “Hi. Uh… who’re you?”

“I’m Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Yea, Lucifer’s son.”

“What?” Hailee screeched. She was tempted to slam the door in his face, but the pure innocence in his expression told her not to.

“Well, I guess now I’m Cass and Dean’s son or something,” Jack explained. He smiled. Which seemed to be his default expression. “Also, this is my room.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t realize. I thought it was just another guest room.”

“No problem,” Jack said. He walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Hailee stayed in her spot holding onto the door. The thought of the devil’s son sitting in front of her did not put her at ease. “You look like you’ve been crying. Are you alright?”

“Yea.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“And you’re direct.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “What’s wrong. Why were you crying?” Jack’s shoulders perked up. “Do you need help with something? I can beat someone up if you need.”

Hailee chuckled. She let the door swing shut and took a seat beside Jack. “You’re kinda weird. But sweet.”

“Thanks.”

“I don’t really know you or quite trust you on the basis you’re Lucifer’s son. But I don’t have anyone else to talk to so… I thought I would be coming home, a nice visit to see my brothers. You know, nothing wrong there. But of course, drama always follows. My boyfriend, Spencer, showed up and found out about the supernatural, but didn’t take it too well. Not that I expected him too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Hailee jumped to her feet and paced in front of Jack. He eagerly watched her, ready to help if needed. She didn’t trust easily and never talked about her problems. It was always easier to deal with it herself. But right now, she needed someone to vent to and despite Jack being probably the least trustworthy person around he was the only one around. The words spilled out of her. “Spencer literally ran out without giving me a chance to explain. And of course because he has a fucking eidetic memory he remembered that Sam and Dean were on the FBI’s most wanted list six years ago. He thought I was making up the whole monster hunting thing to cover for their criminal past. But let me tell you, if I was covering for them I would have come up with a way better story and he should have known that.”

“Well, I could show him my powers and then he’ll definitely believe you,” Jack said. He smiled, proud of himself for coming up with a solution.

“Thanks Jack. But I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Hailee pat Jack on the shoulder. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She held it to her ear, “Winchester.”

taglist (message me if you want to be added -- this is a rewritten version)

@jjmaybanksrings @alex-rose-boi

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thereleventist-blog · 7 years ago

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The turkey is in the brine, the football is inflated to a perfect 50 psi, and the television is on a timer to turn off exactly when those stupid parades start. It seems you’ve prepared for everything. But there might be one thing you’ve overlooked: thinking of all the things you should NOT talk about on Thanksgiving. Most people open their mouths and let words fly out without thinking a single thought about it. Many a misspoken word can be forgiven, but there are some boundaries which cannot be uncrossed. Here are 12 Topics to Avoid at Thanksgiving Dinner.

1. Local and/or Ancient Roman Politics

You have invited people from all over to your Thanksgiving Day dinner. They have all brought different desserts and guess what? They’ve brought different baggage from their local political situations as well. Everyone thinks their own mayor, sales taxes, and bad roads are so very interesting that they never stop to realize it’s all boring. Stan doesn’t even live in the city limits and he’s getting upset about the water department taking over the duties of the city waste disposal department. Then he goes on about how the aqueducts couldn’t carry away the trash of the Roman populace. At that point cousin Nate slams his fist down, grabs his dinner knife and screams “Yes, they could! That’s what they killed Caesar over! And I’ll do it to you, too!” At that point the children start crying. And we have to reassure them that the Senate was actually upset about his being named dictator for life. And though it helps, it doesn’t always pacify the young’uns. All the while you sit there, poking at the peas with your fork, bored out of your skull. Just put down that knife and sit in the awkward silence that family deserves.

2. Squid vs Octopus

Science has yet to prove there is a difference between the two, yet everyone still believes they know which one is which. It’s embarrassing. None of your family are scientists, and yet they all take hard lined stances on the subject. It’s almost exactly the lobster vs. crab debate from last year or the horse vs. zebra discourse of ‘09, but much more pointless and volatile. Steer clear of this subject. Don’t serve any seafood that could spark such a debate. If this does happen, the best of you will wake up from your tryptophan comas and wonder what the heck you were thinking, the rest will carry resentment over the matter well past Boxing Day.

Can you “spot” the difference?

3. What was the Best Episode of Jeopardy

Let’s face it, pretty much every episode is the same. This discussion always devolves into whether Alex Trebek should have shaved his mustache or not. If you want to have a conversation about types of mustaches and if they are a good idea in general, then knock yourselves out. But don’t have this important discussion under the guise of ranking episodes of Jeopardy. It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to Alex Trebek.

4. The Best Way to Start a Retirement Fund

If there is one thing that brings a family together it’s money. But money doesn’t always bring happiness and contentment. I once heard from my mutual funds manager that most fights about money are about how to save for retirement. Although the general consensus is to invest in trinkets and subscription based services there are those that often disagree. Financial advisor Ira Roth has been the source of many family squabbles. He suggests stocks or accounts or something less fun. And more and more people are taking hard stances nowadays. So we recommend avoiding this subject all together.

5. Christmas

It’s still November, yet the shrill voices of children singing Yuletide songs has been scraping against your eardrums for at least six weeks now. Your job has essentially laid you off for four days when you need to be away from the house the most. And to top it all off, Aunt Kathy has decided it’s the perfect time to talk about what to do for a holiday that’s a whole month away. You aren’t even done with this drudgery and you are summoned to negotiate an even bigger ordeal than the one you’re currently trying to navigate as you rapidly slip into a culinarily induced coma. Not only that, but half of your family are Jehovah’s Witnesses. Which just adds to the drama because they are upset about celebrating Thanksgiving in the first place. If the subject comes up, the most diplomatic way to handle it is to start singing “The Monster Mash” as loudly as you can followed by “How do you like mixing holidays now? Huh?”

6. Cousin Gerald’s Seat on the First Shuttle to Mars

The ticket is bought. It is non-refundable. It was expensive and probably a scam. But he’s proud of it. He’s proud of the fact that his score on the 20 question IQ test he took on the internet was so good that he was automatically offered 20% off the already low low price. He’s proud that they waived the required physical because he paid with a money order. It’s a time to be THANKFUL. Don’t go around bursting Gerry’s bubble. That’s the kind of conversation for St. Patrick’s Day. Change the subject.

7. What Knot is Best

Possibly the best knot for these kinds of situations.

Dinner is over. Every belly is full. The dishes are stacked to the ceiling with care. And we all know what that means: “Let the Thanksgiving festivities begin!” So you try to take the initiative and hang the Pilgrim Piñata (something no one ever wants to do) and immediately you get an earful from your uncle Jack about how your square knot is the wrong knot and how you should be using a hogshead knot (something you’re not sure actually exists). Uncle Jack’s chastising under the pretense of ‘helping’ is quickly interrupted by your Grandpa’s two cents on how how a fisherman’s knot used to be all you needed to know. Soon all the men and most of the older women in your family are in a heated discussion about knots that no one wants to admit is getting heated, so everyone is talking in aggressively pleasant tones and fake laughing way too much. And the worst of it is, you were initially really proud that you had perfected the square knot in the first place. Avoid the conversation by not trying. Who’s ready for the Thanksgiving piñata?

8. The War of the Roses

You DO NOT want to go there. You don’t have enough information to make a valid point and you’re just going to end up looking like a FOOL. Everyone thinks they can hold their own when entering this conversation but no one has actually done any research beyond the occasional episode of “The White Queen” or a historical treatise here and there. The whole thing is a vain attempt to look smarter than your idiot cousin who’s only real skill is BSing his way through life. Good luck with that. Just stuff your mouth full of mashed potatoes and let it go.

9. The Beatles or The Rolling Stones

Pictured from left to right: Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Davy Jones, Michael Nesmith

Most people either don’t realize or refuse to accept the fact that The Beatles and The Rolling Stones consisted of the same musicians. The Beatles were so famous and out of their minds that they had to create alternate personas just to keep their brains from exploding. In fact they did it twice more. Once as Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band and the other as The Monkees. So forget arguing an essentially moot argument. Instead argue if the Rolling Stones were better than Elvis. That’s a valid argument. Argue that

10. How Dry/Moist the Turkey Is

Ugh. Small talk. The Thanksgiving version of talking about the weather. It only serves to hurt the cooks feelings or stroke their ego. It’s stupid, pointless, and sadistic. I want to blow my brains out.

11. Grandma’s Will

Although we’ve known for years that Mam-Maw only has days left, I must advise that it would be prudent to leave the subject of her Last Will and Testament alone. Remember five years ago, when we found out that she didn’t have one? Well, you nagged her into writing one on her own because you didn’t want to force her into doing something she wasn’t willing to do. But she had already slipped so far from reality that it turned out completely incoherent. And what did make sense would ruin the family for years to come. Well, next year you suggested she write a new one. Too bad for you, because Great Aunt Gladys hired a lawyer and threatened to sue you and cut you out of the will completely if there was any suspicion of foul play or tampering. And it only got worse from there. Cut your losses and get over it.

12. Any Shared Family Memory

We use the term “shared” loosely. Any memory that more than one family member might have will invariably be variable. More than that most events from long ago will be so downright contradictory that any outsider would wonder if these people are related at all. A good way to deflect this is to bring up a memory that none of your family share. Unfortunately, this will come at the price of your dignity. That’s right. Revealing your most shocking and embarrassing secrets is a surefire way to keep the rest of the family from shouting you down in dissent and instead keep them shouting you down in disgust. Who are you kidding? There is no possible way to keep your family from fighting. But at least this time they won’t be calling you a liar. Except for your mom, who believes she raised you better than that.

Surely another successful Thanksgiving is at hand so long as you let these sleeping dogs lie. Memories will form like never before and, who knows, maybe some new traditions will be formed, too. Just remember, if some uncouth relative brings up one of these subjects, you don’t have to get involved. And, if there’s any doubt, have a seat at the kids table. No one there is going to write you out of their will.

Horace Dunmar

#thanksgiving #politics #family #the beatles #the rolling stones #the monkees #squid #octopus #zebra #horse #turkey #war of the roses #the white queen #jeopardy #alex trebek #pumpkin pie #turkey day

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spunkyspy · 7 years ago

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I missed it 😭😭 could you do a recap?!

Sure! I’ll try but it was super long so I’m probably forgetting some stuff lmao (this isn’t in any chronological order either) I’m gonna put it under a read more actually bc it’s so long lmao

They talked a little again about how Ika facetimes him every night until she falls asleep. She said that last night she fell asleep so he hung up and went to watch TV in the living room and left his phone there to charge. She woke up after like 45 minutes and said she called him back and he heard the phone and tried to run to catch it, but barely missed it and when he called her back, she didn’t answer. She said that she was like half asleep when she called him back, but she did bc she didn’t want to wake up and not see him

They said that neither of them really eat bacon without the other there and Ika said that it doesn’t taste as good without him

LMAO this made me laugh but Ika was like “Usually our facetimes in the morning go a little different, Dem is censoring himself right now” and Dem said “Yea…I am censoring myself a lot” (or s/t like that)

Marina popped up in that chat and said they were being loud and woke her up and then she came and pounded on Dem’s door and he yelled “What!?…I promise you don’t want me to get up right now” (he was naked under the covers) (poor Marina deserves better sldkfjslkd) but Ika was like “STOP that is too much information”

He apparently didn’t even know that Marina had an IG and he was like “it’s probably just pics of her cat…she loves that thing” and she responded “bitch please [my IG] is aesthetic” which just made me laugh skfljsd

Ika also said that Marina thinks they’re so gross, but she thinks Dem is worse

Ika also said that her and Marina team up against Dem a lot

Ika was saying that Dem needs to try Ox tail, but it turns out that neither of them really knew what it was or what an Ox even was klsdjfsd

They talked about how their dinner at the CN tower for Ika’s birthday. Ika said Dem loves anywhere that has a nice view, he’d live in a haunted house if it had a nice view. They said that it was a nice place and they had a good time, but the food sucked. Dem said next time they’d just rather bring up burgers or jerk chicken and eat that

Ika said that one of the reasons that they didn’t like that restaurant or similar stuff is that they aren’t fancy people. Like they said that they have fun at the little events they go to together, but neither of them are fancy. Ika said they have fun making fun of the people there together, and like Dem said, they like getting free drinks and the music is nice, but it’s not really their thing (i liked this a lot bc a lot of people try to say that Dem wouldn’t like Toronto/fix into Ika’s life there, but they clearly said that they’re on the same page)

Dem said he loves Toronto, and someone asked why’d he move to Edmonton and he said he has family there and likes it. He said his cousin (the one they went fishing with) just moved there too.

Someone also said he should move to Calgary and Ika was like “UH no, he has no reason to move there!” so it seems obvious to me that he’s moving to Toronto after Edmonton

She said too that they talk on the phone for like 4-5 hours a day and even Marina is like what the fuck is wrong with y’all fjdsdjf (i dont think that even counts them facetiming at night either)

Someone said that they should go to Jamaica and Dem got all excited and was like “BABE did you hear that!?” and she kind of rolled her eyes soooo maybe they have plans for that?

Dem also said he wants to take her to Santorini in Greece, he said it’s the most beautiful place that he’s ever been

Also, when Ika said that Dem loves anywhere with a good view, Dem said “yea that’s why I’m with you, the view is good” and told him that was corny sdlkjflsd

They also both say babe and baby A LOT lmao

They wanted to add Karen to the call but IG only lets two people join :(

Ika said that sometimes when people invite her out to a place that she hasn’t been, she won’t go that way she can wait for Dem so the first time that she goes will be with him

They talked about how much they love Josh and how amazing his family is

Some girl tried to grab The Hair Tie from Dem’s wrist and he got pissed apparently lmao

He said that she looks just as good with her hair wrap and no eye brows as she does normally (or s/t along those lines but it was sweet sdfjklskd)

The funniest part was when someone started pounding on her door and she was confused bc she wasn’t expecting anyone. She tried looking out the peep hole but couldn’t see anyone so she locked the door and Dem was telling her to be careful and everyone was telling her not to open the door. They started knocking again and she was getting freaked out and Dem was like yelling “who is it?” and she was telling them to be quiet bc they could probably hear him. She was wondering if it could be Jehovah’s Witnesses but she couldn’t remember the name for them so she just called them religious people and Dem started laughing (he said that when they’d show up to their house growing up that they’d just start speaking greek to them sfkdljsf). Dem said too “I’m scared bc I love you, but I want to see how this pans out”. They knocked AGAIN and she was still like wtf and then they just opened the door and everyone was kind of like what the fuck??? and it was maintenance coming to change her filter and Dem was telling her to grab something sharp to defend herself. They changed it and left and Dem was like wtf filter are they talking about and Ika just said “you know what it’s fine, I survived” or s/t skjfdkls

a couple of trolls showed up and Ika just blocked them and they laughed it off and Dem said he liked some girls tweet on twitter this morning bc like he said, why would he care what they think :’)

SO that’s most of it, but Lily on twitter recorded it and will upload it soon so you can watch the full thing when she does!

#demika #bbcan5 #Anonymous

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menphinaschevalier · 8 years ago

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LGBTQ+ Awareness Regarding Jehovah's Witnesses

June is LGBT Pride month, chosen to commemorate the riots of Stonewall, which occurred in 1969. June is a month of recognition for those within the LGBTQ+ community, a time were we celebrate who we are, remember the freedoms won in past and those we presently fight for. It's a month when all of this, these issues we face everyday, are highlighted with more focus by those outside our community and so this June I have the aim to do what I can to spotlight an issue that is largely unknown to be the danger that it truly is.

As an LGBT person who was born into and raised in a Jehovah's Witness family, I have both experienced and witnessed the damaging effects of the cult’s culture, particularly pertaining to homosexuality.

Most people know Jehovah's Witnesses as the conservative Christian religion most likely to be responsible for walking you up on a Saturday morning with a knock on your door. If you live in a metropolitan area, you might have noticed them standing beside a cart of Watchtower literature, or seen a big blue square bumper sticker on someone's car with the message 'JW.ORG'.

What most people do not know is that might seem as an orderly sect of Christianity is in reality a high-control cult, making use of hallmarks such as lovebombing, thought policing, brainwashing, isolation and shunning. Here is the video shown at the 2016 conventions, used as a model example of how to treat those who leave the Organization. Click here for the full video, or here for the video plus commentary by an ex-JW former Elder and author.

These practices are what make the Jehovah's Witnesses Organization particularly lethal to its members, including those who are LGBTQ. The Watchtower Bible and Tract Society, also known simply and ominously as The Organization, have always held the stance that homosexuality is a sin forbidden by the bible not unlike many other sects of fundamentalist Christianity. However, due to its extreme policies, the repercussions are often more severe. In recent years, there has been a visible increase of information fed to members reminding them of the deplorable nature of homosexuality, encouraging them to see LGBT persons as sub-human, and reminding them that a person's sexual orientation is a choice or habit that can be broken as a person would seek anger management for their temper.

To make a comparison, you could say: “You know, many claim that violent behavior can have a genetic root and that as a result, some people are predisposed to it. (Proverbs 29:22) What if that was true? As you might know, the Bible condemns fits of anger. (Psalm 37:8; Ephesians 4:31) Is that standard unfair just because some may be inclined toward violence?”

The above is quoted from Young People Ask: How Can I Explain the Bible’s View of Homosexuality? which you can read for yourself here, on JW.org.

As part of this year's District Convention of Jehovah's Witnesses, three day conventions where members listen to talks and symposiums, a three part video drama will be shown entitled 'Remember the Wife of Lot'. Among the mess of poorly directed, problematic content are segments which remind convention attendees that homosexuality is condemned by God and by any faithful follower. These segments are shot in a way that dehumanizes the three visible gay characters in the drama, both a gay couple shown on television and the gay assistant of the titular character shown with only the backs of their heads visible, even when interacting and speaking for a prolonged period of time on screen. These are unmistakably deliberate choices directed from the Organization with the aim of encouraging and programming its members not to simply disagree with the 'homosexual lifestyle' but to view LGBT persons as a subhuman, alien group whose relationships revolve solely around lust.

Here is a short video that specifically calls out the main scenario where homosexuality is highlighted in the drama, though the strange ‘back of the head’ framing involving Gloria’s gay assistant takes place in the end of the third part. You can watch the full drama here.

This is an attitude that has loomed over the Jehovah's Witnesses culture decades, one that was actively present in the congregation I grew up in. A woman from a generational family of Witnesses had decided to live a celibate life, resisting her 'sinful nature' so she could remain a member of the Organization and keep contact with her family. Dispute her adherence to scripture, she was socially marked by her fellow members as 'bad association', treated marginally better than someone to be shunned. Comments such as 'I cannot wait until all the gay people are killed in Armageddon' are not uncommon to overhear in conversations, and any mention of homosexuality during the weekly congregation meetings beckoned attendees to express the depths of their disdain.

I cannot emphasize enough the emotional and mental damage that this can cause a person. As a social system that is set up to trap its members from any escape, any LGBT person within the Organization is under the constant oppression of knowing how disgusting their existence is to their only community.

As a Jehovah's Witness, you are expressly disallowed to have any close contact with individuals outside the Organization, or as they are labeled and known by members, ‘worldly people’. Anyone outside the Organization is routinely villainized as a dangerous threat at worst, possible convert at best, with no room for coexistence or agreeing to disagree.

Your entire world is confined other Jehovah's Witnesses, all of whom are likely to report you for anything you might confide 'for your own good'. It is, after all, a doomsday cult who believe that when Armageddon comes all non-Jehovah’s Witnesses will be executed by divine wrath.

If you are someone born into the faith like I was, it's often the case that most of your family will be in the cult and pressure you into baptism, from which point you are trapped. Being brought up in this environment is extremely toxic to anyone, but can be especially poignant when you are gay. There is no safe way to ensure that you have any outlet. You are boxed in with a culture that is actively brainwashing your loved ones to loathe you, while you yourself have been brainwashed into believing the only good and kind people in the entire world are your fellow Jehovah's Witnesses.

The woman whom I spoke of earlier eventually stopped coming to our Congregation, along with her family. I like to think she found all the happiness she deserved and was denied, but I have no idea where she is or what happened to her. I hope that she was fortunate enough to find a support system outside the cult. Too many times there are instances of homelessness, drug addiction and suicide that stem from the incredible stress and emotional devastation of losing your entire social circle in the blink of an eye. There are countless stories of abandoned Witnesses who in desperation and grief turn to harmful alternatives for comfort, and these same accounts are waved in the faces of their friends and family as an ‘I told you so!’ by the Organization.

How do you help someone in such a tightly controlled situation? Spread the word: There are resources and websites that compile the corruption of the Watchtower Organization, but it is still a mostly unknown problem, particularly within the U.S. The more attention that can be brought to the truth of the cult, the harder it will be for Watchtower to keep its members in the dark. Jehovah's Witnesses are not allowed to read anything about their religion outside of the Organization’s published and approved material. One of the best ways to dismantle the harmful behavior in this Organization is to draw enough attention to its harmful practices on a large enough scale that its practically impossible to avoid.

Be patient, be kind: Remember you are dealing with victims of a cult who have been brainwashed into believing every single person who is not a fellow Witnesses is a danger to them. Remember that this applies to everyone inside the cult, parents and children, young and old.

Provide resources, if you can: A lot of Witnesses might not know about resources like suicide prevention hotlines, shelters or even therapy. The degree to which someone has been isolated 'from this system of things' can vary severely, with some families deciding against any sort of help outside Elders at their Kingdom Halls, and therefore never educating their children that there IS alternative aid outside the religion.

Absolutely do not express your anger towards their religion: Even while I was living with my partner, states away from my controlled environment, it took months before I was able to even begin coming to terms with the truth about what I had known as ‘The Truth.’ Any hostile action, including blunt facts about the cult, can be seen as validation for worldly people being cruel, evil imps whose only goal is to lead them astray from the righteous path of everlasting life. Remember that most Witnesses have been brainwashed into really believing this doctrine, even if they are terrified and miserable living as a Witness, no matter how strange or insane some of their beliefs might seem.

I am alive today because I was fortunate enough to find a source outside Jehovah’s Witnesses who simply by being themselves, planted enough seeds of doubt about the Organization for me to survive the constant assault of worthlessness and self-hate I was programmed to feel everyday.

I am alive today despite having my own mother assist me with attempted suicide, because it would have been ‘better’ for me to die then as I was, a scared 16 year old who had admitted to being gay, than for me to continue living and be killed at Armageddon for that same crime.

I am lucky, but there are so many out there silently suffering everyday, inside and outside the LGBTQIA+ community. Please, take a moment to think of those inside your community this Pride month and if you know of any LGBT+ Witnesses, young or old, take a moment to let them know you love them and they are not alone.

#lgbt #pride month #gay pride #religion #cult #jehovah's witnesses #JW #ex-jw #tw; abuse #tw; suicide #tw; depression #tw; homophobia #homophobia #long post

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fear-god-shun-evil · 6 years ago

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How Can We Exalt God? Here Are 3 Best Ways

God once said, “You shall have none other gods before me” (Deuteronomy 5:7). This is one of God’s commandments which we mankind must abide by. God is the Creator, the source of life for all things, who constantly supplies all things and rules over and controls all creation, so it is the law of heaven and earth that we creations obey and worship God. For us Christians, exalting God as great in our faith is of the utmost importance, because it directly concerns the big issue of whether we gain God’s approval. However, when faced with difficulties in daily life, we, rather than pray to and seek God first, often seek help from people we worship and admire. With our hearts occupied by people we look up to, we often fail to follow God’s commandment to exalt God as great.

So how can we truly exalt God as great? As for this question, my co-workers and I together sought guidance from God, after which we summarized three principles for practice. Now I’d like to communicate them with you and hope we can enter into this aspect of the truth together.

First, we must only have a place in our heart for God, not for any man, and neither should we worship nor look up to any man.

It is mentioned in the Ten Commandments, “You shall have none other gods before Me. You shall not make you any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the waters beneath the earth: You shall not bow down yourself to them, nor serve them: for I Jehovah your God am a jealous God” (Deuteronomy 5:7-9). This tells us that we believers in God cannot exalt and look up to any idol, because God is a God who hates evil. God’s words say: “People who believe in God should obey God and worship Him. You should not exalt or look up to any person.” These words tell us that we believers in God should worship God and only have God in our hearts. No matter what we encounter, we should seek God’s will and think about how to satisfy and glorify God. This is a proof that we have a place for God in our hearts. On the contrary, if we don’t act like this but turn to people we worship and admire for advice and blindly listen to them, regardless of whether or not their opinions conform to the truth and God’s will, then we are liable to be led astray. Seeking help from people we look up to in all things means that we see people as greater than God in our hearts, and that we are actually worshiping man and looking up to man. Just as those Jewish people recorded in the Bible—they didn’t exalt God as great, so when the Lord Jesus came to work, they, though hearing Him speak with authority and power, still went to ask the chief priests and Pharisees whether He was the Messiah; when the Pharisees denied the Lord Jesus as the arrival of the Messiah and even judged and condemned His work, because they thought the chief priests and Pharisees understood more knowledge of the Scripture they blindly worshiped and listened to them, following them in condemning and rejecting the Lord Jesus, and in the end lost the Lord’s salvation. Meanwhile, there were some other people who, unlike those Jewish people, could honor God as great, such as Peter, John, and the Samaritan woman. Though at that time many Jewish Pharisees resisted, condemned, and spread rumors to slander the Lord Jesus’ work, doing everything they could to prevent people from following Him, these people didn’t blindly believe the rumors, but carefully investigated the Lord Jesus’ words and work with a God-fearing heart. When they found that the Lord Jesus’ words and utterances had authority and power and were all the truth, they recognized that He was the Messiah they had yearned for, and thus followed Him without hesitation and finally gained His salvation.

So today if we don’t exalt God as great in all things, we are also prone to blindly looking up to and worshiping people, especially those pastors and elders who are familiar with the Scripture and can talk about some profound theological knowledge. For example, some of us, when faced with big events like getting married, having kids, buying a house, or finding a job, would immediately seek the pastors and elders for advice instead of praying to and looking to God to seek His will; some have to ask for the pastors’ and elders’ permission before they go to listen to other sermons, and even have them determine whether it is the true way. Are these people the true believers in God? Definitely not! They actually have no place for God in their hearts, not to mention exalting God as great. In comparison to them, there are some people who can pray to and rely on God and seek His enlightenment and guidance when encountering things, who can unyieldingly put God’s words into practice without being constrained by any person—they are the ones who exalt God as great, who will gain God’s care and protection as well as His blessings, because the Lord Jesus once said, “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you: For every one that asks receives; and he that seeks finds; and to him that knocks it shall be opened” (Matthew 7:7-8).

Second, in serving God, we should exalt God and bear witness to God in all things, put God first and let God reign in our hearts.

God’s words say: “Man should not magnify himself, nor exalt himself. He should worship and exalt God.” This is one of God’s administrative decrees which must be obeyed by each of us believers. As people who serve God, it is even more our duty to exalt God and bear witness to Him in all things, and to lead our brothers and sisters to obey and worship God. If someone brings the brothers and sisters in front of himself, he is definitely not a person who exalts God as great. For example, some people, when preaching sermons, only focus on explaining Bible knowledge and theological theory to show themselves off so that others will regard them highly and look up to them. They neither communicate how to practice the Lord’s words and follow the Lord’s way, nor fellowship the truth or witness what God has and is or His intentions, but like to make others follow rules. As a result, after their years of service, people they lead, instead of gaining some knowledge of God, actually get more and more familiar with them and even worship them as idols in their hearts. Obviously, they are vying with God over status and their service is that which resists God—how could people like this be approved by God? Let me use an example that might not be very appropriate: A mother has to go out for work in order that she can raise her child, so she hires a nanny to look after her child. Unexpectedly, after a period of time, the nanny actually says to the child, “You should call me mom. The woman you called ‘mom’ before is not your real mother. I’m your real mother.” Don’t you think this nanny is rather despicable? Similarly, if we don’t exalt God and bear witness to God in all things, but rather bring the brothers and sisters into our presence, then it proves that we don’t have a place for God in our hearts, and that we are not serving God but are managing our own status. But if we exalt God and testify to God in all matters, fellowship our own experiences and testimonies of practicing the Lord’s words, and lead the brothers and sisters to put the Lord’s words into practice so that they can rely on, obey and exalt the Lord as great, then it can be said that we are serving God and fulfilling our duties for satisfying God. And only such kind of service is after God’s heart. Take Peter as an example. He never asked people to worship him during his service, but only focused on communicating the Lord Jesus’ words and his own experience and knowledge of them, leading the believers to know the Lord’s salvation and love for mankind. It is recorded in Acts 10:25-26: “And as Peter was coming in, Cornelius met him, and fell down at his feet, and worshipped him. But Peter took him up, saying, Stand up; I myself also am a man.” From these two verses of Scripture, we can see that Peter didn’t want others to look up to him, and so he made it clear to them that though he could work for the Lord, he himself was still a corrupt man whom could not be worshiped. So in our service, we should imitate Peter, helping our brothers and sisters gain knowledge of God through our fellowship and know how to rely on and look up to God in difficulties. This is also a manifestation of exalting God as great.

Third, faced with things we don’t understand, we should have a reverent heart for God and never speculate about them at will.

Jehovah God said, “For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways” (Isaiah 55:8). From this verse, we can see that we humans will never be able to fathom what God says and does. So as created beings, we should have hearts that revere God, and not arbitrarily judge and guess whatever comes from God. God’s words say: “Your heart should be ever reverent before God, you should be moderate in your words and actions….” God’s words tell us this: No matter what the circumstance, in doing and saying things, we should have principles and act according to the truth; we should seek the truth and the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit with a reverent and obedient heart for God; when we can’t understand God’s work thoroughly, we shouldn’t judge or speak carelessly, but should just say what we have understood. As for the part we don’t understand, we should pray to God and seek the truth instead of blindly analyzing and judging according to our minds. As we all know, when Job lost his livestock that filled the mountains and all his children and had his body covered with sore boils, although he couldn’t understand why these things befell him, he didn’t use his notions and imaginings to judge and complain against God, or sin with his lips, but prayed to and relied on God with a reverent heart, and obeyed His sovereignty and arrangements, standing witness for Him. Job’s three friends, however, didn’t have a reverent heart for God; they randomly made guesses and judgements about Job, thus provoking God’s wrath. The Pharisees are another example. When the Lord Jesus came to work, seeing that His work and words didn’t conform to their conceptions and imaginations, they arbitrarily judged and condemned His work without the tiniest bit of fear in their hearts, and even conspired with the Roman government to crucify the Lord Jesus, offending God’s disposition and thus suffering His punishment. Therefore, we must not jump to conclusions about things we don’t understand. Especially at the crucial moment for the Lord’s return in the last days, we must have a heart of reverence in regard to the Lord’s return. We shouldn’t define God’s appearance and work according to our own imaginations as the Pharisees did, but should act like people such as Peter, Jacob, and John who could humbly seek and investigate the Lord’s work and words and follow Him. This is the only way to witness God’s appearance and the Lord’s return, and also a manifestation of exalting God as great.

Brothers and sisters, I believe through today’s fellowship each of you have gained some knowledge about how to exalt God as great. As long as we put these three principles into practice, we will certainly become people who exalt God as great. Just as God’s words say, “Start practicing the way of fearing God and shunning evil from this point forward; manage to honor God as great in all things; don’t use your own personal fancies, viewpoints, or beliefs to define yourself, define God. And instead, you seek out God’s intentions in all respects, you achieve a realization and understanding of God’s attitude toward humanity, and you use God’s standard to satisfy God—that would be wonderful!”

All the glory be to the unique God!

#Spiritual Life #Spiritual Growth #Rely on God #Exalt God

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noplanwithavan · 8 years ago

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VALLEY OF THE VANS

We drove as far South as we would make it on this journey. Twisting deep through the terraced Berber heartlands of the fragrant Ameln Valley. Hillsides sprayed a delicate white and pink with almond blossom. Our destination, Tafraoute. Nicknamed “Valley of the Vans” , it’s reputation grew in the 1960’s when tie-dyed hippies first arrived in their combie vans. For the last month Tafraoute was a name we had heard on the lips of many travellers we met. All spoke of it as a legendary place, eyes glazed over with a reverence which masked a certain lack in specific detail.

I’m not sure what we were expecting exactly - some sort of campervanner’s mecca maybe. A kind of Utopia on wheels, combining community with creativity. Meeting other families is as rare as hen’s teeth in Morocco, but maybe here, surely here, we would strike lucky. Perhaps some industrious soul would even have set up the odd workshop. You know the kind of thing: morning yoga followed by essential life skills after lunch.

Unsurprisingly, it was a disappointment. Nestled within a prehistoric-looking landscape, sunlight playing shadows across giant-sized boulders, the place itself didn’t disappoint. If you could imagine dinosaurs roaming the earth anywhere, it would be here. But not perhaps amongst this forrest of sedate, gleaming white motorhomes. Satellite dishes like super-size lenses winking at the sun.

“I call them snow birds,” said Willy. At 67 Willy Witting was no spring chicken, but he clearly differentiated himself from the retired masses which had set up camp around him. For unlike them, Wily was not migrating south to escape the European winter. This was his life. As it had been for the last 14 years.

A former machine operator for the construction industry, Willy retired early due to ill health in 1995. He was just 45 years old. With only a small pension to draw on, he began casting around for a new way to live.

“I had a van - a 1964 Mercedes 710 - that I’d built myself. It used to be a specialist ambulance for disasters, but I converted it into a camper van,” Willy told me.

In 2003 he decided to leave Germany and ship his van over to North America. It was only supposed to be for 2 years. Back then the van had 20,000 kilometres on the clock. Today it’s notched up 500,000, on a journey that’s taken him the length and breadth of the American and European continents.

He started alone, but has now accrued a small retinue. There is his wife, Marga López, whom he met while searching for the Monarch butterfly in the mountains of Mexico. And his dog, Scot, and cat George. Marga tells me it took her a little while to get used to life on the road at first. “My family thought I was crazy,” she grins.

“But I like it. As long as the weather’s not cold I’m happy.”

We’re talking inside their van. Compared to the bland band of vanilla campers all around, it stands out. An impressively looking robust 4 wheel drive. But, typically, space is at a premium. And the combined living and kitchen area is squeezed compactly into 2 x 3 metres.

“Sometimes I miss being in a house, having a stove to bake bread, space to entertain guests,” admits Marga. She tells me they have a house in Marvatio in Mexico, and when they go back it’s nice to enjoy the room to cook and have friends to stay.

“But when the evening’s over we always go back into the van to go to bed,” adds Willy. “I just can’t sleep in houses anymore.”

Most of the couple’s time has been spent exploring North, South and Central America. In 2014 they decided to ship the van back to Germany so Marga could see Willy’s home country and explore Europe. They tell me Canada is their favourite place to travel. “It’s so free, the distances are so great. And of course there’s the artic circle too. I saw the Aurora Borealis there, you don’t forget that.”

“But for life, for food, and for living, it has to be Mexico,” Marga interjects. “And the friendliest people we met were in Serbia.”

I’m curious as to know how George the cat copes with all this, given the aversion to travel characteristic of his species.

“He copes just fine,” beams Willy. “Well, I guess he’s used to it by now. He has no other choice.”

Springing to his feet suddenly to fling open the van door, Willy curses in German and directs a sheepish looking Scot out from the small living room and into the front driver’s seat. It takes me a few seconds to comprehend this banishment. Willy and Marga apologise profusely, as a toxic smelling vapour seeps over us.

“He might stink, but that dog saved my life,” Willy barks, flapping his hand in front of his nose to dispel the smell. “In Alaska, we’d gone camping in the wilderness. Scot woke me up in the middle of the night barking. There was a grizzly bear right outside the tent. He ran out, and circled that bear. He made such a racket it scared him off.”

Most people consider pets an impediment to free travel. After all you can’t take a cat for a walk can you? Well, try telling that to Willy. They all travel together. George was on that Alaskan camping trip too - carried along in a backpack. Appalled at the lack of animal welfare in many countries - including here in Morocco - the couple even rescued and raised 6 kittens in their van, before finding homes for them along their travels.

In all this time on the road, only 10 nights have been spent in campsites. They are seasoned pros at the art of free camping.

“You develop a sense of where’s safe and where’s not,” Willy tells me. They’ve been robbed twice - once in South America and then in Bulgaria, but never encountered any violence. In 2010 they were passing through Ecuador and came across an erupting volcano, “La Tunguragua”. Civilians were being evacuated, but the couple tell me they decided to stay put, “to hear the mountain growling”. It was only after awakening on their third morning to find the entire van, inside and out, covered with black ash, that they decided to move along.

The most secure place they’ve ever stayed was Colombia, just outside a military camp, surrounded by soldiers bearing machine guns.

“We’d pulled over in this town because the road was really bad,” explains Willy “And before long we spotted tanks and then there was a knock on the door.”

Concerned they’d stumbled into a FAARC guerrilla area, the military had come to warn the couple and give them an escort back to an army base camp.

Many believe you have to be wealthy to travel. But Willy and Marga are clearly proud of their modest existence.

“You don’t need much to travel the world,” Willy confides. “We get by on our combined pension of €1,200. It’s plenty.”

Avoiding big cities helps to keep down the cost. Opting for smaller towns if necessary, pulling up by a plaza or square for a water connection.

“Even in America it’s easy. Did you know you can park in Walmart overnight for free?” Willy leans forward intently, making sure I’ve noted this detail, visibly incredulous at how capitalism could allow this.

Hobbies keep them busy, including a shared love of walking and archery. Marga also has an eye for pretty things - dolls and stones - showing me her international collection. Yet as we near the end of our conversation it becomes clear there is another driving force at work too. References to the bible - maxims, anecdotes - are sprinkled, lightly at first. Then Willy is keen to show me one passage in particular, in reference to the United Nations. It is from the book of Isaiah, “nation shall not lift up sword against nation.”

The penny drops. “Are you Jehovah’s Witnesses?” I ask. “Is this why you travel - to spread the word?”

“No, it’s not the main reason. But Marga likes to preach, going door to door when she can,” Willy concedes. “ I prefer a more indirect approach, speaking to people when the opportunity arises. Like I have been doing with you.”

And I can’t help appreciating the irony. To think it was me who came a calling. Clutching a leaflet, and making my way out, I mask a sly smile. Well I never expected that.

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