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stephspurs · 3 years

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A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

hey girlypops! here is part 5!!! thanks for the feedback on the last part - i've gone back through and edited slight bits to make it more straightforward who her brother is and who it isn't. Nothing has been changed to the story line so no need to go back and re-read (unless you want to lol love yas). Part 5 is a whole lot of fun! As the warning suggests, you can expect a few too many drinks, some heavy flirty & a very smug italian.

Love always, Steph xx

Part 5. | parte quinta

warnings; a few too many drinks, heavy flirting and a smug italian.

word count; 1704

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Wed 04/08 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

Day rolls into night, which rolls into the next day and before she knew it Amelia had been under the Mykonos sun for 5 days. Her brother and his teammates, who she should now probably refer to as her friends as well, did nothing but welcome her into their group with open arms and tried to include her in every activity they were doing. Most times she declined their invitation, opting to just relax on her own. She was very comfortable with her own company, she never felt like she needed another person to be able to exist. It was something she was proud of.

No doubt there were times she often missed companionship. She had her fair share of flings that gave her what kind of satisfaction she needed at the time, but she never felt like she needed someone else’s air to be able to breathe. This Mykonos trip, however, reminded her of how much she was beginning to miss her players. They had a group chat, La Cosa Nostra, which was probably a pretty poor group chat name but she was inducted into the already established group when she became close with some of the players & besides it was just Our Thing.

She missed the gentle bullying that she received on the daily from the serie a superstars, and also missed dishing it out to them so that they could keep their feet on the ground and their heads out of the clouds. Laying on her bed in a towel, after a nice shower, she contemplated taking up her brother’s offer from earlier in the evening. Does she go out and meet him and their mates at the club? Why not?

Getting up off her bed, she put on some makeup for the first time in a few days, making her feel somewhat human again, blow dried her freshly washed hair and put on her favourite Camilla bikini, covered up by a white slightly-sheer and flowy mini dress. Putting on her white sneakers and grabbing her cross body bag, comfort was the theme of tonight, and also because she wasn't in the mood to break her ankle on the grecian cobblestones.

Walking to the club that her brother had messaged her the name of, she noticed a ridiculously long line to get in which was honestly long enough for her to consider just going home, but she had committed to the plans & her brother was already expecting her - plus she had already put on her mascara and she was not wasting it. Approaching the line she went to join the back when her arm caught that of someone else walking past her.

_____________________________________________________________

“Sembra che tu non riesca a starmi lontano, vero?” (you can't seem to stay away from me, can you?) Looking up, I had linked arms with my midfield maestro, Jorginho. Who was smiling down at me with the cheeky grin that told me he saw me coming and couldn't help himself.

“Ciao! Come sei stato? Che sorpresa incontrati qui!” (Hi! How have you been? What a surprise running into you here!) I begin to say to him as I kiss both his cheeks in greeting.

“I’ve been good, enjoying time off as a double champion” He joked with me. He was right, he was a double champion and no one could take that away from him.

“Bella Amelia, this is Thiago. I play with him at Chelsea, which I'm sure you already knew. Thiago, this is the brains behind the organisation, Amelia” Jorginho introduced me to his Chelsea counterpart, which he was correct about - i did already know exactly who he was.

“Are you guys coming into Tropicana? I’m meeting up with my brother and his mates - some of them play with you guys at Chelsea. You should join us!” It took very little convincing for the two footballers, who looked like they were a couple hours into their long night, to join me in the club.

Unsurprisingly, we got let into Tropicana quite quickly. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the two mega famous and ridiculously good looking footballers I had looped around each of my arms. Walking through the club, the smell of cigarette smoke and vodka wafting around me, I managed to find the british players.

“Now now boys, no bad blood here! I know you all managed to get over my Italian affiliation so don’t hold it against my boy Jorgi here!” I address the group jokingly, as I wrap my right arm around his neck and he wraps his left around my waist.

Of course the Chelsea boys welcome him with open arms, they’ve known both Thiago and Jorgi longer than they’ve known me. The other boys offer their hellos before continuing to dance and drink with their mates. I say hi to everyone, give a big hug to my brother and Kyle (my chosen brother) before I'm wrapped into another hug I wasn't expecting.

“I’ve got to admit, you give a good hug” I say as I whisper into his ear.

“You’re a pretty easy person to hug, Mils”

“Always a smooth talker you are, Jack”

We parted and I grabbed myself a drink before spending the night dancing on top of the table with the girlfriends of the boys that I had only just been introduced to. Bonding over the fact that I was desperate for some female companionship, and also that I was the only single girl in the group, leading to the conclusion that they needed to be my wingwoman...all of them.

The night thereafter was spent finding suitable prospects for my whirlwind night of fun and romance, which I insisted wasn't necessary but also couldn't help but admit that it excited me just a little. It had been a while since I was close with a guy in that sense, and to be honest, the tequila shots that the girls had me doing was loosening me up in more ways than one.

Feeling the need for a break and some fresh air, I grabbed my purse and walked outside to sit along the retaining wall. We had reached that part of the evening where there was no chance I wasn't going to be allowed back into the club - the bouncers and security guards becoming more relaxed and carefree as it neared the time that the sun would reappear. Without thinking twice, I asked for a cigarette from some guys standing outside and a quick light, before returning to my little spot on the wall.

“They’re right bad for you, ya know” A voice to my right startled me.

“Jesus! You need to stop scaring me like that!” I shrieked.

“Nah not Jesus, just Chilly. However the beard has me thinking I do look a little bit God-like these days..no?” He says as he runs his fingers through the barely-there beard. Sure I could agree with stubble, maybe even a little bit more than stubble, but a beard? Not yet. However, I wasn't about to dim his sparkle.

“I like the beard, Chilly.” I confirmed.

“I like you, Mils” Wow ok. Straight to the point then.

“Well thanks, you’re not so bad yourself.” I tried to play it off, it was obvious we had both consumed far too much alcohol this evening and the cigarette was currently working wonders in its purpose of sobering me up.

“Ya know, the girls were out there tonight looking for your Greek Adonis to come and sweep you off your feet. They were looking a bit too hard though, if you know what i mean” he sweet talks me, and its working.

“Wow Ben, you’re really out here laying it on thick tonight - factor 50 i would say. I’m sure you’re just looking through rose coloured glasses right now” I joked back with him. I can’t say I didn't notice all of his longing looks, extra attention to me, constant protection when we would be out in public, but I knew at the end of the week that I would be going back to Turin, so there wasn’t any point.

Finishing up our little chat (read: heavy flirting session), we headed back inside together to join the group. Before long, Jorgi comes up to me with a drink and a smug smile on his face.

“Che cosa?” (what?) I questioned him in Italian, trying to limit as many people understanding our conversation as possible.

“Cosa succede a mykonos, rimane a mykonos, no?” (what happens in mykonos, stays in mykonos, no?) He says as he leans into my ear. To anyone else it would just look like two friends trying to have a conversation in a loud club, but I understood his message loud and clear.

“non sto facendo niente di male, né l'ho mai fatto. non voleva etichette, quindi è quello che ha ottenuto” (i'm not doing anything wrong, nor have i ever. he wanted no labels so that’s what he got.) I say back firmly. Jorgi let go of my shoulders and moved to stand in front of me.

“It’s ok tesoro (darling), I’m sure Federico would agree with you” He said back to me in English, it was obvious that he wanted someone around to understand the premise of our conversation. He smiled cheekily at me, before taking a swig of his drink and dancing backwards into the crowd as I shook my head at him.

Jorgi and I developed the kind of friendship that would last through time. We were equals. We listened to each other's problems, offered the advice that we needed to hear & not necessarily wanted to hear. We promoted each other's happiness and tried to get each other to not take life too seriously. This was his way of bringing me back down to earth, reminding me of what I have waiting for me back in Turin, but also making sure I knew what was right in front of me. He left the decision up to me to make, but he played his part to make sure I knew all of my options. He really was a good friend, which would make my next career decision a little bit more challenging than anticipated.

Part 6. | parte sesta

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aliciadelaplaya · 3 years

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So what should TRF do, exactly?

Yet again there have been almost defeaning calls on SM for TRF to DO SOMETHING about the Sussexes. So, I’d like to address this question, maybe throw in something of a reality check.

Most people should know by now that it is not in HMTQ’s power to remove the Sussex titles. This can only be done by an Act of Parliament, and primary legislation at that.

This means that the “motion” has to be debated by both the House of Commons and House of Lords.

Now, just think for a minute, a debate, in the house of commons, with all those Black Female Labour MPs banging on about removing the titles from the, supposedly, first bi-racial member of TRF. Goodness, if people thought that the Sussexes incoherent and contradictory mud slinging about “conversations” about the colour of Archie’s skin was damaging to TRF, how much worse would it be to hear elected representatives of the British people (however ignorant, biased and downright stupid) accuse TRF of racism in The Mother of Parliaments. Now that would be seriously damaging.

And of course The British Government has far more important things it needs to Parliamentary time for.

Also, there is some sort of notion floating around Social Media that if HMTQ asks Parliament, then it will immediately be given. Anyone who knows anything about the hundreds of years that it has taken the UK to go from an absolute to constitutional monarchy knows damn well that a) HMTQ would never dream of asking and b) HM’s Government would in no way automatically acceed to any request made by the Sovereign.

Some people seem to think that we live in some sort of medieaval kingdom with an all powerful Monarch.

Yet, there are still those who are jumping up and down, calling HMTQ and PC fit to burn because they are “Not Doing Anything”

OK, so put your money where your mouth is?

What should they do?

Exactly.

Go on,

tell us.

What would you do if one of your sons or brothers, daughters or sisters had got themselves ensnared with a dangerous narcissist? When every word of warning, every well-meant piece of advice does nothing more than drive them further into the arms of their addiction.

What would you do if their mental state before they met this person was a matter of family concern and now, far from your care, deaf to your entreaties, was publicly deteriorating to the point that they have become a world-wide laughing stock?

Tell us. What would you do? They are an adult, one who has not been sectioned, free to make their own choices, to lead their own life. They are your family. What do you do?

How exactly are you going to stop him talking about you, spreading lies and gossip? Go on, tell us, we’re dying to know.

What would you do if your beloved family member had made it clear to you that if their spouse leaves them, they will kill themselves? Go on, what would you do?

What would you do if you believed that anything your family did could be the cause of anger on the part of the narcissist and put your loved one in danger. What would you do, exactly, to stop them? Please tell us. There are a lot of people out there who would love to know.

“Cut them off” many people are crying! But that is what we know PC has done, albeit after providing his younger son and his wife with a substantial gift to help set them up in their new lives, as per the Megxit agreement.

Tell the truth about the surrogates? Yes, we would all like that, we know that niether of those children were born of her body, that they are not entitled to a place in the line of succession. Yet, however much we jump up and down and say that TRF is “public property”, the fact is, they too are still entitled to basic human rights, and one of those is privacy. It is not for TRF to tell the truth about the surrogacies, it is not their story to tell. It is for Harry and his wife. One day the truth will come out, it always does. The TRF can not be the ones to let the cat out of the bag. They just can not.

OK, so people jump up and down saying that HMTQ and PC are showing weakness by not responding to all these attacks. So tell us, what exactly would you do? Exactly, what would you have done when?

They said that you don’t own the rights to the word Royal (which is true)? When every single speech that woman made duing lockdown by Zoom has a dig at your family. Would you respond? How? Exactly.

When they set up a photoshoot trampling over war graves, insulting the memories of both the US and the UK fallen? What would you have done to stop it? Go on, do tell?

I can’t be arsed to dig out the list of all the insults, swipes etc that these two have levelled at TRF, HMTQ, PC etc. Geniunely because I’ve forgotten most of them, there have been so many, they have lost their currency, they have been devaluted. Even the massive fall out from the “bombshell” whineathon with OW, was overtaken by more whinging, it’s a deluge. How could the sitatuation have been helped if, as it was rumoured PC wanted to do, each accusation was thoroughly challenged. Can you imagine?

How many of you own or run companies? How many of you have had, in any shape or form had people complain to you about products or services? How many of you have received unjustified/maliciious/ignorant complaints - 100% I would guess. And what is the best way of dealing with these? Do you engage and argue with every minor point, do you want to “win” the argument. Does it make you feel better to win by beating the complainent over the head with your greater wisdom, teaching them a lesson, showing them for the stupid, ignorant people they are? What happens if you engage? It never bloody stops. But if you reply thanking them profusely for the incredible amount of time they have taken to give you feedback, if you thank them for their custom, if you offer them a discount/money back. If you ARE NICE TO THEM. Guess what? THEY HAVE NO WHERE TO GO! NOWHERE. Believe me, I’ve done both and I can tell you hands down which is the most satisfying and, ultimately the most productive in the long term.

The situation is the same here, if TRF engages in any shape or form it will be playing directly into the Narcs playbook and the Sussexes will push back, it will excite them, thrill them, give them power. It will be more fuel for their global whinging and victimhood. It will be more interminable articles in Hello and Page Six (Does anyone read these publications) Look at the few times TRF have pushed back and H has come in, all guns blazing with legal letters (and what happened to all that, we wonder). Have you noticed that since the word got out that TRF were not going to stand by silently, the BS stories about HMTQ having zoom calls with the mythical child, buying waffle makers have stopped?

They are much more careful now when they try to bring HMTQ into their lunacy.

“Love me, hate me, but NEVER ignore me” is the Narcs motto and it will be driving Harry’s wife mad that they have been completely iced and are not rising to their constant baiting. But some of the Megxiteers are. Effectively, the Megxiteers are doing the Sussexes work for them. That sure is some fuel for the narc.

It makes me laugh when the MSM and SM get their knickers in a twist about the latest fuckwittery coming out of Montecito (or whever they don’t live). They want the child to be christened in Windsor with HMTQ present. Don’t make me larff! That is never going to happen. This is absolute kite flying at it’s worst. It’s poking the bear and all these ridiculous Royal Reporters nod their heads and make seemingly wise podcasts about the prospect of this happening (and they can do it with - mostly - straight faces), as if it was actually a possibility when I’d like to think that they, like me, believe that H and his wife have been well and truly iced, they are personas non grata.

When the wife buggered off back to Canada after the Commonwealth service leaving her useless husband to tell more lies on his own, rather than with her at his side, I was convinced then that she will never set foot on these shores again and I stand by that view now as I did then.

So, the latest stick with which the megxiteers have chosen to beat TRF with is that the second child is now on the website as being in the line of succession. Yes, it is an absolute abomination, yes, it offends every fibre of my being, yes I want to expose these two evil hypocrites for this egregregious fraud that they are perpetrating on TRF and the rest of the British people. Of course, like most of you, I want to see justice done, and I want it done NOW. But life isn’t like that. and just as Caesar’s wife has to be above suspision so do our (much loved) RF. Look how we all noticed the careful wording of the Baby congrats on the birth of the second child, they know, we know, but TRF have to play a staight bat, they just have to.

While, in the SM bubble we can all get ourselves wound up, upset, angry, sure that the monarchy will fall etc etc outside, in the real world, most people don’t give a flying fuck about Harry. He’s an idiot, an ex-royal, gone, finished. He is not important either inside or outside TRF.

HE IS IRRELEVANT.

And, if anyone is wondering while all this stuff about book deals is coming out now. I give you this:

The Mail on Sunday appeal - will probably run into next year The Bullying accusations - will probably run into next year. Tom Bower’s book (this is a biggy) - to be published next year?

The Sussexes are aware they are losing popularity, that is why each pronouncement is more and more ludicrous and each Hello article more and more desperate.

The Sussexes are aware they are under attack by forces outside TRF, and they are making their pre-emptive strikes at the low hanging fruit, the soft underbelly of his family.

TRF are doing exactly the right thing. Keep Calm, Carry On and while ignoring them won’t make them go away, it will make them look increasingly ridiculous.

This is true strength, not to rise to the bait, to carry on regardless. Remember our Queen has a strong and deeply held Christian faith, turning the other cheek is part of that, whether we like it or not. TRF should not, under any circumstances sink to the level of Harry and his wife.

Let’s just enjoy the H show for what it is, a mentally unstable ensnared fool doing everything he can to ensure he continues to receive the favours (sexual and otherwise) of the narcissist he married. Because, imho, that is what it’s all about.

Remember the engagement interview. “I hope she loves me as much as I love her”.

Sorry mate, that ship has sailed and nothing, nothing you can do will bring it back.

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heavy-lobster · 3 years

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POST THE FUCKING ESSAY KOAL/DUSTY I SWEAR TO GOD

WAIT I THOUGHT YOU READ IT ALREADY??? DID I SERIOUSLY NOT SEND IT TO YOU WHEN I INITIALLY FINISHED IT??? GOD WHAT THE FUCK

Well I can’t NOT post it now.

So for some background, the assignment was to write a short essay arguing as to why a children’s series of our choosing could be classified as horror, based on some article we had to read. I chose Wow Wow Wubbzy because I thought it would be funny and. man. So anyways this is VERY poorly written because I did most of it between like,,, midnight and 3 am. It’s very ranty and way longer than it needed to be. For ease of reading I went back and fixed up the shitty formatting and fixed a few spelling errors, as well as linking my sources.

So uhhh this is about horror so,, warning for horror ig?? It’s not scary like, at all, but better safe than sorry.

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!: The Horror Within

Introduction

“Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!” is an American TV show originally aired on Nick Jr. From the mind of Bob Boyle, this educational kid’s show was very memorable for a lot of kids growing up at that time. The show features Wubbzy, a yellow, square, animalistic character, with a curly, “springy” tail; as well as Wubbzy’s various friends. Most episodes feature Wubbzy and his pals, Widget and Walden (as well as Daizy in later episodes), dealing with an every day situation, or well, depends on your definition of “every day”. The situation spirals out of control because of the actions of various characters, and it is resolved by the problematic character of the episode learning a lesson and fixing their mistake. Seems like a typical kids show, right? Well, there may be more to it than that. What if I told you that Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! could be interrupted as a horror show about horrifically mutated beasts struggling to survive the post apocalyptic world they are forced to inhabit? Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! fits many categories described in Sharon A. Russell’s literary criticism in “What is the Horror Genre?”. In this essay we will discuss how Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! could possibly be classified as a horror series.

Asking the real questions; what is everyone?

First of all, a very important question. What exactly are the characters? There are claims that Wubbzy himself is some kind of gerbil, but frankly I don’t see it. Also, what’s the deal with the inhabitants of Wuzzleburg in general? Wubbzy and his friends are supposed to be anthropomorphic animals, but they seem more like horrific monsters, mutated from normal animals. Monsters are a very common and important element in horror. Not all monsters are vicious killers, and not all of them are obvious in appearance. Some monsters are small and cute, but it’s almost always a facade.

There are also some “regular” animals running around, but yet they aren’t “normal” by any stretch of the imagination. Some are very obviously not normal, others seem mostly normal. “Flutterflies” are a common, non-anthro animal seen in Wubbzy, with their most prominent appearance being in the episode “The Flight of the Flutterfly”. Flutterflies seem like normal butterflies, but why are they called “Flutterflies” instead? Are they in any way different to the butterflies of our world, or is that just what the inhabitants of Wuzzleburg call butterflies? What about the more blatantly odd non-anthro animals? In “Attack of the 50 Foot Fleegle” Wubbzy acquires a pet “Fleegle”. It appears to be a small, purple, almost hamster like creature. It remains small and happy if you feed it the right kind of food, but Wubbzy foolishly feeds it candy and sweets. When fed candy, the Fleegle increases in size in increasingly large increments. After a time, it becomes so big that it rampages all over Wuzzleburg. The only thing that could shrink it back to normal size was carrot juice. When fed bologna, they multiply, and the solution to this is unknown, as the episode ends there and this is never brought up again.

There are plenty of strange animals, both anthropomorphic and not; yet no humans. Not a single human character in sight. This begs the question, what happened? Why are all these animals how they are? What happened to the humans? Obviously, these questions were never answered, as this is a kids show. Here is a thought to consider: what if all the humans are dead, and all the characters are mutant abominations, or, monsters as they’d more fittingly be called. Humans have been wiped out, and the animals who survived mutated in many different ways. Some animals became intelligent, and capable of building their own society similar to what once was our own. That society is what we know as Wuzzleburg. In conclusion, all the creatures seen in the show are the result of something terrible; mutated abominations passing as animals. This fits the “monster” category of horror as described in Russell’s article.

What’s the deal with Wuzzleburg?

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! takes place in the fictional town of Wuzzleburg. Wuzzleburg and its surrounding locations look very odd. Everything is unnaturally geometric. Everything- from houses to trees- is very odd in appearance. Tree branches are often bendy, always at a right angle, with the edges being smooth and rounded. In Wuzzleburg, many houses look like completely normal houses, yet Wubbzy lives in a tree house. Another common thing is that houses and buildings of importance are usually designed based on a specific object. Daizy’s house, for example, is shaped like a flower.

Outside of Wuzzleburg, the locations only get weirder. There is an island, shown to be somewhere off the coast of Wuzzleburg, called “Dino Island”. As the name suggests, this island is inhabited by dinosaurs. So apparently, dinosaurs are not extinct in this universe; at least on this island. As far as other towns go, there is Wuzzlewood, clearly based on Hollywood, where all the biggest celebrities in the Wubbzy cinematic universe (WCU) live. Everything in Wuzzlewood is covered in stars, a clever spin of the celebrity theme. Another interesting location is Plaidville. In Plaidville, everything is plaid; the trees, the ground, and even the inhabitants. I don’t have to explain what is unnatural about that.

Now, back on the topic of Wuzzleburg, since it is the main location seen in the show, and is where Wubbzy and his friends live. It has been stated that Wuzzleburg was founded in 1853 by “Heinrich van Wuzzle”. The specific year being given is an odd detail, that you wouldn’t normally expect in a show of this nature. Wuzzleburg is clearly a town in every sense of the word. It has plenty of stores and restaurants, an airport, houses, residents, a mayor, a rich history, annual festivities, reliable transportation, schools, and even a stable economy. All of this being made by what we have already established as horrific monsters. That’s impressive. There is common debate in the Wubbzy fandom on whether these locations are in a parallel universe, or perhaps if they exist on our Earth. In the episode “Fly Us To The Moon”, the place where they land back on “Earth” appears to suggest that Wuzzleburg is located somewhere in or near Washington state, in America, or possibly somewhere in British Columbia.

My theory is that the events of Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! takes place on Earth, but certainly not our Earth. An alternate Earth, where humans may have lived before. Some horrible nuclear accident wiped out all human life, and caused all the animals to mutate into the many strange creatures of the WCU. This also explains the unnatural features of the setting. Post-apocalyptic Earth? Sounds like a perfect horror setting to me. This fits perfectly with the criteria described in Sharon’s article.

The beast within; Wubbzy’s true villain

Finally, the matter of the deep internal conflict hidden deep within the show. In the show, you can expect every episode to have a lesson or moral, as many kids shows do. Most episodes feature one of the main characters (almost always Wubbzy) making a mistake, followed by them learning the lesson of the episode and using their newfound knowledge to make things right. What if I told you that this is sign of a much deeper internal conflict going on far beneath the character’s cute exterior? Would it be so far fetched to believe that every episode is focused on the anthropomorphic abominations struggling to fight against their beastly instincts? Their own organized and civilized society goes against their very nature, and they constantly fight to uphold the standards they set; both for themselves, and each other. It's a constantly uphill climb. Wubbzy is undeniably a flawed character. He messes up constantly, often learning the same lessons over and over again, as if it’s more of a reminder than a lesson. It’s Wubbzy against himself. This fits Sharon’s criteria of internal horror, but that’s not all.

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is also the story of a quest for self improvement, as well as a good vs evil scenario, which are two of Russell’s other criteria. I mean, think about it. Every character is open to self improvement once they realize the harm they’ve caused. Every character is on their own quest, seeking to better themselves. Every character is going through their own internal battle. They fight their own flaws. Their own evils. The true villain of Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is the evil within all of them, the beastly instincts lurking within all of Wuzzleberg’s monster inhabitants. And they may not always be perfect, maybe they don’t know how to be “good”, maybe being good just isn’t in their nature; but they try their best despite all the challenges, to be better, and improve themselves.

In that way I think we can all relate to them. We aren’t always “good”, we aren’t perfect, sometimes we don’t know how to do the “right” thing, but our flaws are what make us human. It may not be in our nature to be flawless, but it is in our nature to seek self improvement, and that’s what Wubbzy is really about. The struggles we all go through to be better people, because inside? We’re all just monsters trying our best to be civil, and conform to our moral code. And really? That’s enough.

Conclusion

Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is undeniably a kid’s show at heart, but if you really stop to analyze it, you find a much darker horror series. It would be fittingly classified as a psychological horror. It fits almost all of Sharon A. Russell’s criteria as described in the article “What is the Horror Genre?”. What is Wubbzy? In fact, what are all of the show’s characters? Their vaguely animal appearance appeal to young children, but I believe that they may actually be normal animals mutated into horrible monsters. Freaks of nature created by a nuclear incident. There is not a single human seen in the show, but plenty of abnormal creatures. This suggests that we are long gone. The monsters we left behind built their own society.

Not only were the animals affected, but also the earth itself. The odd nature of the setting supports my nuclear devastation theory. Finally, is the true conflict of Wubbzy. The show itself is about nuclear monsters trying their best to adapt to the society they built for themselves, even if it goes against their own nature. It’s beasts on a quest where the only objective is the betterment of the self. An internal conflict. There is no physical villain in the show. The only antagonist out to get Wubbzy, is Wubbzy himself. In that way, I think we can all relate. In conclusion, Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! is actually about horribly mutated animals fighting their inner demons, on a metaphorical journey to be better than they are. For that very reason, I believe it could be interrupted as a horror series.

Sources:

Wubbzy Wikipedia page

Wubbzy Fandom Wiki, which I did NOT know existed before this project and honestly the comments on the page were the funniest fucking thing, I highly recommend it

And uhhh various episodes of Wubbzy I had to watch

I apologize for my crimes

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revlyncox · 3 years

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Trees (2021)

A talk abut growth, hope, and paying attention to history

Revised and expanded for the Washington Ethical Society by Lyn Cox

February 7, 2021

In this place halfway between the beginning of winter and the beginning of spring, we draw on imagination and memory, caution and optimism, hope for the future and learning from the past. Many of these things are contained in stories.

I don’t know if the story happened exactly this way, but I believe it’s true. A sage, a wise person, was walking along the road and saw someone planting a carob tree. The sage asks, "How long will it take for this tree to bear fruit?" "Seventy years," replies the gardener. The sage then asks: "Are you so healthy a person that you expect to live that length of time and eat its fruit?" The gardener answers: "I found a fruitful world, because my ancestors planted it for me. Likewise I am planting for my children." I will tell you where this story is from because I want to give credit, but I also want to notice that this story has a universality to it, a truth that the beginnings of things we set in motion can have an impact long past the horizons of our own lives. This story is from the Talmud, a collection of rabbinic conversations on ethics and customs. (Talmud Ta'anit 23a)

We drink from wells we did not dig and eat from trees we did not plant (Deut. 6:11). Our physical, intellectual, and religious lives depend on those who have gone before. Following their example will lead us to plant literal and figurative trees for the world of the future.

I believe caring for ourselves AND others will help us sustain a shared life of meaning and compassion for a long time.

My first semester studying for my M.Div. degree in California, I worked at one college in the south bay area, and went to school in the east bay area. I enjoyed the fragrance of eucalyptus trees around both campuses. The dry leaves rustled in the breeze, leaves rubbing together like the wings of singing crickets. Some people were distracted by the sound and allergic to the smell, but I liked them. The eucalyptus trees were tall and graceful. One might imagine that they had always been there. There’s a story about those trees. I don’t know if it happened exactly this way.

The American West in the late 1800’s was heavily influenced by dreams of getting rich quick. Non-native eucalyptus trees were brought from Australia because they grew quickly. It was imagined that the lumber and oil would become quickly replaceable commodities for those who farmed them. They were promoted as ornamental trees for rich landowners new to the area and not used to treeless landscapes. Eucalyptus trees were all over California by the 1900’s, and were tested for use as railroad ties. They didn’t work out. Eucalyptus from Australian virgin forests, seasoned and treated properly, behaves differently than eucalyptus grown from seeds in California, hastily treated, and set down in the Nevada sand. Some of the railroad ties were so cracked they couldn’t hold spikes. Some decayed within four years.

The trees themselves grew like weeds. They did what non-native species are famous for doing: thriving in the new environment, edging out diverse native plants that provide food and habitat, with consequences for the entire food chain. An attempt at a quick profit turned out to have unintended consequences. Recently, there has been more discussion in that region about restoring native trees, but it’s complicated. To say that it will take time to mitigate the damage of an invasive species is an understatement. Then again, compare that to the 2,000-year growth of some living redwood trees. May we learn patience and commitment from slow-growing trees.

We strive to be among those people who have the hope and imagination it takes to envision a world of justice and compassion, a world of liberation and self-determination, a world of peace where people sit calmly in the shade of slow-growing trees. In our neck of the woods, we might imagine a world where every person lives in safety and abundance, with access to the shade of a Witch Hazel, Hackberry, or Redbud tree; the three logically native trees our Earth Ethics Action Team recently arranged to have planted on the WES property. In folk music and wisdom tales, slow-growing trees symbolize enough time for a generation to grow without being uprooted by hunger or violence.

The California eucalyptus story reminds us that some of the environmental mistakes we humans have made were decisions made by a few but using the resources and the risk pool of many. Another time, we can unpack the harm that white American westward expansion had on indigenous land rights and communities, and on the horrors of labor exploitation involved in the transcontinental railroad, and on the energy and resources that were available for white colonization but not reparations for formerly enslaved people after the Civil War. Understanding the wrong choices that have been made in the past may help us turn toward making better choices as a society going forward. We can play an active role in the governments, corporations, and organizations to which we belong and who act on our behalf. Let us embody these relationships for repair and renewal.

Contrast the rushed, climate-disrupting story of the eucalyptus trees with the story of George Washington Carver. I had to catch up on some of his story this week, when my kids noticed discrepancies between what was said about Dr. Carver in the elementary school reader on our bookshelf and what they had read elsewhere. Some of us learned in school that the most important contribution Dr. Carver made as a scientist was discovering and promoting new uses for peanuts, but this version of his story is grossly oversimplified and obscures the way his research and activism supported Black self-determination as well as environmental repair.

After he graduated from the Iowa State Agricultural College in 1896, Dr. Carver accepted a position at the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. Riding on the train to his new home, he noticed immediately that growing nothing but cotton was causing soil erosion and depletion. He had scientific solutions to that. What took longer was figuring out how to empower Black farmers -- especially those who were being exploited as sharecroppers -- to feed their families, improve their chances for subsequent years, and still make enough money to try to get out of debt. Smithsonian Magazine quotes biographer Mark Hersey about the way Dr. Carver understood the problem:

“What Carver comes to see,” Hersey says, was that “altering [black sharecroppers’] interactions with the natural world could undermine the very pillars of Jim Crow.” Hersey argues that black Southerners viewed their lives under Jim Crow through an environmental lens. “If we want to understand their day to day lives, it’s not separate drinking fountains, it’s ‘How do I make a living on this soil, under these circumstances, where I’m not protected’“ by the institutions that are supposed to protect its citizens? Carver encouraged farmers to look to the land for what they needed, rather than going into debt buying fertilizer (and paint, and soap, and other necessities—and food). Instead of buying the fertilizer that “scientific agriculture” told them to buy, farmers should compost. In lieu of buying paint, they should make it themselves from clay and soybeans.

So ends the excerpt. Dr. Carver understood way before what we think of as the modern environmental justice movement that liberation and conservation are entwined projects. The decisions we make for our families, for our communities, and for the planet all go together, and they all benefit from remembering interdependence and the long years of generations to come. Honoring the very beginnings of things, continuing to work on hopes that are barely tangible, believing in the distant future, allows us to live into Beloved Community. White Supremacy depends on the hurry-up-and-profit mindset that brought cracked eucalyptus logs to the Nevada desert. Beloved Community invites us to consider what may come from a seed.

Strong trees grow slowly. Strong communities learn and grow and make connections to other communities little by little over decades. Healing takes time. Repair takes time. And for all of these, we can’t always tell that it is happening. In most cases, we don’t see the seed unfolding under the soil. Our senses are not adjusted to notice the growth of trees right in front of us. Sometimes resilience is about knowing in your heart that change is possible, even when the evidence is not yet obvious.

The nearly imperceptible beginnings of change are also a theme in the earth-honoring holiday of Imbolc. The Celtic calendar where this holiday comes from is rooted in the seasons of light and dark of the northern hemisphere and the agricultural cycles of western Europe. At approximately the same time of year in the British Isles and here in the mid-Atlantic, the middle of winter means that we can start to perceive the time of sunrise and sunset edging toward spring, just a little more daylight each day.

February into March is the time of year when lambs start to be born, vulnerable and full of promise for the coming spring. It’s still cold outside! One theory for where the word Imbolc comes from is that it’s related to the word for sheep milk. The lambs need a lot of help to stay warm and to survive. Yet their arrival shows the persistence of life. Sometimes resilience is about remembering that life is possible.

This is also the time of year when people who grow vegetables in climates like ours make a plan for the next six months, gathering seeds, starting a few indoors, and figuring out how to make the most of the soil and sun that will be available later. Making plans at this in-between time of year takes courage.

For earth-honoring folks in Celtic traditions, the goddess Bridget (and, in her later form, St. Bridget of Kildare) is associated with this early February holiday. In the legends, Bridget protects access to clean, healing water. She is also a figure of light and flame. When you put fire and water together, you can make entirely new things out of what you had before. You can forge iron, cook food, sculpt clay and fire it into ceramics. Maybe this transformative potential is why Bridget is also associated with childbirth, poetry, healing, song, and art.

There is one thing that newborn lambs, vegetable seeds, soup ingredients, raw iron, and future poetry all have in common: They don’t look at the beginning the way they are going to look at the end. You have to have some hope and imagination to believe in the transformation that is coming. You have to keep doing what you are doing, when the evidence for success has not yet appeared. We need to hold on through the long term, through step-by-step processes, through the discomfort of growth and change. And so another thing we learn at Bridget’s holiday is the need for commitment.

If we’re paying attention to a legendary figure of generosity, art, and transformation, it’s a good idea to listen to the voices of poets who figured out how to sustain themselves and their families and communities through difficult times. During Black History Month, we are reminded of many examples of poets and artists who showed and inspired perseverance as they provided hope and imagination about a better world that was not yet fully manifest.

Back in October, on Vote Love Day, we heard about the story of Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. She was born in Maryland in 1825 to free parents, was educated at her uncle’s school, and had published a book of poetry by the age of twenty. She became a full-time lecturer and writer, and she was an activist for abolition and for economic self-determination in the Black community. One verse of her 1895 poem, “Songs for the People,” [more on that poem here] reads:

Our world, so worn and weary,

Needs music, pure and strong,

To hush the jangle and discords

Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

Harper was well aware of the injustice, economic inequality, and violence that still plagued the cities and towns where she toured. She didn’t fail to address any part of that system in her other writing. Yet she still saw a place for music and art. For Harper, poetry was not a distraction from building the Beloved Community, but one of the technologies that can help bring it into being. Out of intangible words and ideas are woven a network of visions that lift up possibilities for liberation.

Good things grow from beginnings that are not yet obvious. The forces that will become spring are already at work under the snow in the middle of winter.

On the Jewish calendar, we’ve recently passed the holiday of Tu B’Shevat, the new year of trees. This is a minor holiday. It’s been around for hundreds of years, yet more people seem to be noticing it as we learn to connect spirituality with care for the earth. Sometimes people in Jewish homes and communities gather to eat different kinds of fruit and nuts, to give thanks for ways of growing, and recommit to stewardship of the planet. In regions where it makes sense, Tu B’Shevat is a time to plant trees.

Clearly, looking out the window today, it is not the right time to plant a tree where we live. Nevertheless, in our gratitude for trees, we are reminded of the growth and the fruition of work that exist because of what has come before. The forces that create and uphold life and our ancestors who cooperated with them knew that growth and resilience don’t always look that way from the outside. They knew that growth can start with something tough or plain. They knew the importance of allowing time and of giving thanks.

We drink from wells we did not dig and eat from trees we did not plant. As a community, part of our task is to muster the hope and imagination it takes to consider growth and resilience over time. We think long-term. We honor beginnings of change, even when they are hidden or barely perceptible. Let us be mindful of the impact of our choices, now and in the generations to come.

May it be so.

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writingpuddle · 5 years

Note

The foxes and Andrew reacting to Neil with a British accent?

Hey anon im p sure you sent me this like a million years agobut I found it again when going thru my asks yesterday so here goes myattempt at a bulletpoint fic:

Neil grew up in the states, sohis default accent is American, but he is ridiculouslygood at imitating. Like give him a ten second audio clip and he canextrapolate basically an entire dialect from it

The Foxes discover this aroundHalloween when watching a spooky movie and Neil goes into a perfect deadpanmockery of the Dracula character’s terrible Transylvanian accent

It becomes a thing

The Foxes will give him an accentand just set him loose

Neil is kind of surprised bytheir enthusiasm but also secretly very pleased to have found a way to amusehis Foxes

He likes making them happy so henever denies them

Except Kevin, but that is mostlybecause the team gets more amusement from watching Kevin get frustrated and trynot to show how annoyed he is over Neil being such a petty little asshole

Also they discover that if Neilputs on an Irish accent when Kevin isn’t paying attention he will absolutelyJUMP

Give him an order in an Irishaccent and he just instantly starts to follow through before he wakes up,blinking in disorientation as he realizes what he was doing

It’s funny at first, then theyrealize it’s because he associates the accent with his mother, and then itskind of sad, and then Kevin starts telling more stories about his mum and someof the few good memories he has of her, and then it gets funny again because Foxesare Foxes and they do love a good roast

Kevin complains outwardly but itsactually kind of cathartic to talk about his mother

He tells Andrew this inconfidence and Andrew just glares at him like no shit dude, you need fuckingtherapy

Anyways

That summer is going to be thesummer of the girls graduation

So they’re all determined to dosomething big to celebrate

And they get it in their heads todo a Eurotrip

Neil isn’t really payingattention at first because he’s more concerned about whether Andrew will bewilling to do a transatlantic flight

(Andrew is obviously going tocome. Flights suck, but there is no way he can cope with his whole family beingthat far away. He does not feel the need to explain this. It should beobvious.)

That’s when the Foxes pause, alldevious.

They’ve been plotting

“So, Neil,” Allison says. “At what point are you going to introduce usto your British uncle?”

Neil does not see where this isgoing

In fact he is largely baffled bythe suggestion.

“You realize my uncle is agangster, right? Like, literally a crime boss. Possibly the most dangerousperson in Britain.”

“Mm-hmmmmm.”

Neil is ???

“But he saved you Neil,” Nicky says emphatically. “We need to thank him.”

“Uh, kind of by accident, butyeah, technically.”

“You should call him. Just toask. You know, at least give the guy some warning that you’ll be in the area.”

Neil is still kinda confused butokay, fine.

Now here’s the thing

The Foxes have heard any numberof accents from Neil by this point

Including a magnificent Godfatherimitation

And probably half a dozendifferent British ones

But those were always for the laughs

He always picked a terribleaccent or would mock the living hell out of a posh one

Neil isn’t used to being thefunny one so he’s trying his best okay

And it’s fun and all but Neil can’tbe seductive to save his life

Even if you made him speak theFrench, the language of love itself,he’d just sound like he’s talking about the next game because he has zeroflirtability

Face it his and Andrew’sflirting sounds kind of like death threats to outsiders

They deserve each other

SO the Foxes convince Neil tocall up his uncle and they huddle around the phone

Only to be utterly disappointed

Neil talks with Stuart for all ofa minute and a half, just normal voice

He hangs up and tells them thatStuart will meet them in London in May and that they’re going to get him inshit with the FBI for this

The Foxes retreat, mutteringmutinously

Andrew is well aware of what’sgoing on, but it’s halfway amusing so he doesn’t say anything

As the months pass the Foxesbecome increasingly desperate in their attempts to make Neil say something sexy

They make him quote movies, TVshows, read out flirty text messages

One memorable time they even gethim to read out a page from Fifty Shades of Grey in a stuck-up British accent

They almost die laughing

It’s like a fucking superpower

Neil can say absolutely anythingand make it come across totally non-sexual

The Foxes have pretty much givenup by the time the summer trip comes around

Neil spends the plane ridepretending not to fuss over Andrew so by the time he arrives he’s totallyexhausted

And here is what he didn’texpect:

He is totally used to listeningto the local accents and then blending in naturally

It’s very disorienting beingamong the Foxes and their various Americanism, but hearing British accents allaround him

And his instincts are snarled upin knots

Plus he’s fucking tired

So he keeps slipping

First it happens when they passthrough customs, just a little lilt to his voice to put the officer at ease

But then it keeps happening

Stuart sends a couple cars topick them up and take them to this massive place he owns right in centralLondon

Being a crimeboss comes withcertain perks okay

Neil slips up again when he’stalking to the driver, his accent washing back and forth

Everyone else isn’t really payingattention because as excited as they are about Neil’s accent they’re in London and they’re all exhausted and fora lot of them it’s the first time they’ve been outside of the States, ever

Andrew notices

But he doesn’t say anything

They get to the apartment andfind a note there from Stuart saying he’ll pick them up tomorrow for a tour

Everyone splits off into theirrooms to sleep

Neil falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come

And Andrew knows this but is tooexhausted himself from the stress of flying to deal with it right away

So he just wraps an arm aroundNeil’s stomach and holds him there as he drifts off

And it’s not enough for Neil toreally relax but it’s enough to make him feel grounded

The next morning Stuart shows upand everyone blinks at him bleary eyed and suspicious

But he’s charming and most ofthem find it kinda disarming

Which is how the Foxes end up takingwhat is probably the most expensive tour they’ve ever had (Allison excepted),lead entirely by a crime boss

Neil is lagging behind a bit buteveryone is so caught up in it that they don’t really notice

Except Andrew

That boy is always attuned to Neil

So he drops back with him andthey have a brief intense staring contest which ends in Neil looking away

They’re standing in Trafalgarsquare watching some street performers so no one is listening

Neil is obviously chewing onsomething and Andrew waits him out

He would wait forever

Finally, Neil just says, “I’vebeen here before.”

Which isn’t much but Andrew’smemory has never failed him before

I couldn’t live there again. I couldn’t retrace my steps to any ofthose places

Andrew knows what its like to feelsick at things that other people would love

So he nods and stands next toNeil the whole day

Not quite touching but closeenough that they can feel each others gravity

At the end of the day Stuart andNeil have a very cordial goodbye and then Stuart leaves them back at theapartment

Everyone is gushing about how charismatiche is and Neil doesn’t bother to correct them

His uncle has always been a bitof a snake-charmer but at least he knows he’ll never hurt his Foxes

They’ve still got a few days inLondon and Stuart’s secured them tickets to an underground dungeon tour thingthat usually has months worth of waiting list

Neil’s a little leery of goinginto a dark underground space, but with his Foxes there he’s sure he’ll beFine™

The team breaks out drinks aftersupper but Neil doesn’t have the energy

(Honestly according to thistimeline they’ve been in London for twenty-four hours they should be jet-laggedto hell and back, but w/e)

So he retires to their room andAndrew follows him like he always will

He sits next to Neil on the bedand waits

God there’s so much fuckingpointed silence between these two dear lord guys learn to communicate

Eventually Neil sighs. “I thoughtit would be okay. With all of them here.”

Andrew mulls that over

He doesn’t know how to admit thatit bothers him too. Seeing Neil reverting back to old habits, trying to blendin like its second nature

But he knows Neil is here to stayso he just slips a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him in untiltheir foreheads touch, breathing in the same air

Gradually the tension eases outof Neil

“We can go home,” Andrew says

“No,” Neil says. “I want to stay.I want to learn how to…do all of this, as Neil.”

Andrew squeezes the back of hisneck one more time. “Okay.”

It’s a silent promise, one he’sbeen keeping for over a year now: that any time Neil drifts too far, Andrewwill keep him anchored.

Neil knows it and he can’t helpbut smile a little, watching Andrew’s hazel eyes disappear into the shadowbetween their faces.

“Yes or no?” he asks

Andrew draws back a little

“You’ve been dissociating allday.”

“I’m here now.”

Andrew scowls and let’s go ofhim, standing up to go dig out his pajamas from his luggage

Neil flops down on the bed andadmires the view while Andrew changes

(That’s a nice thing. Andrewbeing comfortable enough to change in front of him. Sure, he’s always partiallychanged out in the locker room, but in private it’s different. It’s more. And Andrew is willing to give thatto Neil.)

(It’s very nice.)

“Staring,” Andrew grunts

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

Neil sits up again and tugs onthe front of Andrew’s shirt until he gives in and steps up close, betweenNeil’s legs

His hands go to Neil’s sideswithout conscious decision

“Nicky wants the genuine Europeexperience,” Neil murmurs, toying with Andrew’s hem. He still hasn’t been givenpermission to touch, so he doesn’t. “We’re going to be staying in hostels.Might be the last time we have a room to ourselves.”

Andrew bites down on a thousandimpulses, reflexes to shut Neil down, cuthim out

Instead he just kisses Neil, goodand slow, a reassurance that they’re there,they’re real, and that this isn’t going away

“Andrew—”

“Yes,” he says, and pushes Neilback onto the bed.

You know what happens next

They love each other deeply andprofoundly and all that but they also like each other’s butts ya know

So afterwards they get cleaned upand curl back up in bed to sleep

Andrew climbs over Neil andnearly knees him in the balls and Neil’s laughing a little and Andrew scowls inannoyance as Neil scoots closer

And with the most obnoxious chav accent that’s ever been heard says, “Any chance a bloke could get a bit of a snog before bed?”

It is quite possibly the worstthing Neil has ever said and Andrew does not hesitate in slapping a pillow overhis face to try and smother him

Neil is laughing his ass off andit devolves into some pretty stupid wrestling before Andrew gets Neil pinneddown, straddling his hips

“Bloody wanker,” Neil says, unable to contain his grin

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew says,and kisses him so that he does.

#i dont think this is what you asked for but its what my brain spat out lol #anon #writing prompt #have i been sitting on this for months?#probably #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #accents #fic #my writing #Chav!Neil #the foxes go on vacation

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florrickandassociates · 4 years

Text

TGF Thoughts: 4x02-- The Gang Tries to Serve a Subpoena

Under the cut.

This isn’t the first episode of season 4, but since it’s the first episode that doesn’t take place in an AU… it’s basically the first episode.

Reddick, Boseman, and Lockhart has been rebranded as “RBL: A division of STR Laurie”. Remember when Will tried to rebrand Lockhart/Gardner as “LG”? At least RBL isn’t a well-known appliance brand. But I think this might be the same “sleek” font as the LG rebrand.

The acquisition of the firm has led to a remodel. I enjoy how every season RBL looks a little bit less like the LG set.

This remodel makes the offices look like a spaceship/villain’s lair/cyberpunk nightclub. There is a giant spiky cocoon thing (nope, I don’t have better words to describe that) coming out of the ceiling in the conference room and a new spiral staircase near the name partners’ offices. It looks ridiculous and intimidating (and it is supposed to).

There are also dogs roaming around off lash.

And neon lights and a giant fucking GARGOYLE outside of Adrian’s office. It’s so huge it looks like it was taken from the Harold Washington Library. (This may be the most authentically Chicago thing in this episode.)

Much like the last episode, the first thing we see after the teaser is Diane arriving at work and being greeted by Marissa. And, also much like the last episode, Diane is disoriented.

As it turns out, there’s been a bit of a time jump since the end of the last episode-- Diane’s been traveling/resting (doctor’s orders), so this is her first day back to work in 9 months. “What happened here?” Diane asks. Does it make sense a name partner would be so out of the loop on major renovations? Nah. We are not meant to spend much time wondering why Diane/Adrian/Liz would agree to an acquisition or how the talks played out. This is the premise for season 4 and we’re just supposed to accept it. I’m usually wary of this kind of re-premising, but this doesn’t bug me too much. We saw last season the firm had no identity (bc when the firm had an identity in season 1 it was ALL BC OF BARBARA KOLSTAD) and we saw them lose their top clients. Diane’s been on leave so she probably wasn’t that involved in conversations, Adrian probably welcomes acquisition because it’s more money, and Liz… has always only been idealistic to a point.

My point is: our heroes aren’t actually, and have never been, heroes. Sure, they’re the underdogs dealing with a big corporation… but also, they sold to the big corporation.

Marissa says the cocoon spike thing is a sunset. K.

Jay’s never been up to STR Laurie’s floor. The dogs running around, however, have been upstairs. Monday and Wednesday are pet days, but the pets always come through the RBL floor instead of the STR Laurie floor.

The name partners can bring dogs. (How many name partners are there if there are this many dogs and STR Laurie is at most 4 people and RBL is 3 and none of the RBL partners brought in dogs?)

JUSTICE FOR JUSTICE! (Poor Justice is probably not still around 11 years later but I had to say it.)

In the partners’ meeting, even the food everyone’s eating looks more upscale. Adrian officially welcomes Diane back. One of the non-name partners is not so happy to have her back. Or, rather, he’s not so happy the name partners got a ton of money in the deal and the non-name partners got screwed. Fair point.

I guess neither Lucca nor Rosalyn got the partnership.

Adrian expositions that they were acquired because they couldn’t survive after losing ChumHum, and STR Laurie is the 7th largest firm in the world. Got it.

Diane’s check from the acquisition of the firm is so huge it stuns her. You would think she would have known these details. But we’re here now and this show works better if you look at the themes instead of wanting all of the character motivations to always make sense. I’d probably be chewing this plot out if it happened on TGW-- why would x make y decision!? Why didn’t we get to see it!?-- but with TGF I have an easier time accepting radical changes in tone.

And TGF did need a change in tone. You can’t get that much mileage out of episodes about 45 (whose name might not even be mentioned this ep? I will try to look out for that as I watch) and clearly no one on the writing staff is interested in small, character driven intraoffice power struggles as the primary plots. If the writers have something to say about massive corporations, I’d rather sacrifice a few scenes of character development for a season that has a POV than sit through a season as uninspired as s7 of TGW.

(Perhaps this is why I’ve always liked TGW season 6 more than others-- it’s messy, but it’s INTERESTING. I like the Kings’ work best when it has energy and say what you will about season 6, but it’s not lacking for energy.)

There is a dog peeing on Adrian’s office door and he is NOT happy about it (no one would be, but he is ESPECIALLY fed up). One gets the sense he’s not just appalled that it’s happening but tired of the dogs altogether.

Diane is summoned to go upstairs to meet with the overlords. According to Adrian, Mr. Laurie isn’t bad, but Mr. Firth might be.

Upstairs, there is a very long, very white hallway. It looks like it’s out of a sci-fi movie.

I see TGF has finally leaned in to their tradition of casting British actors by just… having STR Laurie be a British firm.

The set decoration of Mr. Firth’s office looks like it belongs on Evil. It’s over the top, has a piece of art that looks like horns (much like the therapist monster thingy… just watch Evil okay) and light fixtures that are clearly crosses.

Mr. Firth asks Diane what she wants to do and she says she wants to get back to work. “What work?” he asks. Diane wants to get back to her clients and Mr. Firth tells a story about a poor man who wanted to give everything, even the moon, to a thief. Neither Diane nor I understand. Mr. Firth says this story is about how he’s giving Diane her “moon” by having her head up their pro-bono cases because she shines when she has a goliath to face. True, but what does this have to do with the story!? I legit thought that story was going to be about how Diane gives too much of herself and should learn to accept high pay checks while doing no work and getting out of STR Laurie’s way. Maybe I missed something?

Anyway, Diane is getting the pro bono department with 22 lawyers and 40 cases. This is to keep her happy and to make STR Laurie look good. Feels too good to be true. Diane gets investigator time and partner billable hours, and she’s told this is fine-- make the firm a good citizen no matter how much it costs. WTF is going on here? Is this a trick?

Diane walks downstairs, happy, as Lucca heads up the stairs. Maybe she’s not a partner, but she’s important enough to be summoned upstairs.

Mr. Firth explains to Lucca that he is “the sorting hat of lawyers.” Lucca explains she’s never read Harry Potter because she doesn’t “like wizard shit.” Impressively brave to say that to your new overlord, Lucca. I have missed you and your give no fucks attitude.

“Yes, fuck wizard shit,” Mr. Firth responds, somewhat stiltedly.

Mr. Firth wants Lucca to work on a divorce case for one of their top clients as the client has a personality clash with their head of family law. Their head of family law is, of course, David Lee. Welcome back, I guess. At least David Lee happening to end up at this firm that acquired RBL makes a ton more sense than all the ways they found to keep David Lee relevant to TGW in its last two seasons.

David Lee hasn’t changed a bit.

Diane’s first client is XIOMARA VILLANUEVA!!!!!!

But in this universe, she’s a restaurant owner whose restaurant is about to be torn down because of eminent domain. Diane tries one of her usual tricks- asking Xo (I’m sure she has a name on this show and once they say it again I will stop calling her Xo) to bring her food truck outside of the courthouse so everyone can smell how great her food is and be more sympathetic to her case.

“You’re not the lawyer I expected,” Xo tells Diane. Diane responds, “I’ve changed.” Diane, I am pretty sure that’s not what she meant, but ok!

Lucca and David Lee’s first meeting with Bianca Skye, the high profile client, is a bit awkward, but Bianca instantly takes a liking to Lucca. (“I didn’t know this firm had any black lawyers,” Bianca notes. “Oh, they hide us,” Lucca jokes. But it’s not really a joke when all the black lawyers are the RBL staff and they’re on a different floor…)

David Lee has Bianca tell Lucca her whole case-- which is fairly straightforward-- with way too much detail. Before Lucca asks David if he’s just trying to run up billable hours, it’s clear he’s dragging this out on purpose.

“Oh good, the Angry Black Woman has made an appearance,” awful human being David Lee says after Lucca calls him out.

David Lee plays rank on her and tells her to watch and learn. Yes, making a racist comment and then being condescending without explaining your strategy is DEFINITELY the way to get the lawyer characterized by her complete lack of interest in being a cog in a machine on your side.

Adrian, Liz, and Barry are all helping Diane do a mock trial before her first day back in court. It’s fun.

Adrian is SO over the dogs. His face when a pack of them run past is priceless.

Diane’s mock trial strategy goes well; the evidence is on her side. And Julius, as luck would have it, is the judge on this case. (Why this is in federal court I don’t know.)

Julius is very happy to be a judge.

Canning is back. Feels weird to have him here without Alicia. But, honestly, I was prepared for worse. As we’ll see as this scene progresses, Canning is the PERFECT person to have as opposing counsel. If there’s a new rule to exploit, he’d be the first to know about it. If there’s a slimy strategy to use while playing innocent, that’s his schtick. If there’s a corporation doing bad things, he’s your guy.

Canning tries to explain his condition to Julius. I guess Julius must have been in the New York office when Canning was at LG in late season 5. Diane laughs, knowing that Julius can’t be tricked by Canning.

Canning probably also knows it won’t work, because he’s already prepared to ask Julius to recuse himself. I feel like this is entirely reasonable. Diane isn’t just an acquaintance… they were partners at the same firm for over a decade.

Diane is TOTALLY the type of white lady to overdo the pronunciation of “chorizo”.

The delicious smelling food seems like it’s going to work, but we quickly learn that what used to constitute tricky is now just child’s play. The CEO of Rare Orchard, who has been subpoenaed, has decided not to show up. He doesn’t have an excuse. He isn’t delaying. He’s just not going to show up. Like, remember when we thought it was egregious that the CEO Canning was defending in 4x11 kept putting off depositions and Alicia calling the judge was an effective strategy? HA! (Anyone know if this case is based on something or if it’s the writers taking some creative liberties for the sake of plot? My fear is that aspects of it are real because I can’t see the writers being this interested in a plot point they invented.)

Canning says he thinks the CEO doesn’t recognize the legitimacy of the subpoena. Julius reminds Canning that he is a federal judge and his subpoena is legitimate. Canning is all, “yes, I know that’s your position” as though laws are opinions. AAAAAAAAA.

This show loves this kind of thing, just totally taking the basic assumptions away and letting chaos reign.

This CEO sent Julius a memo telling him to “go fuck yourself.” Eeek.

Diane doesn’t even get to do much lawyering.

Then there is a random cut (which I hate) to a scene of a massive set falling apart during a battle scene. Why the fuck is this here? And what is this from? If I ff to the credits will it tell me? Nope. Dammit. Someone help me out here.

Credits! Things are exploding again, yay! Aside from the images on the TV, these credits look really similar to S3. I think they may have increased the saturation on the color of the liquids exploding but I could be making things up.

Julius’s outrage at the situation continues after the credits.

David Lee tries to get Lucca to agree to just be comforting to the client. Lucca is like, no, because I was brought on for a reason I am going to do my job.

DLee calls this “PC shit” and says something else racist. Bianca answers the door and asks to do the depo prep on the run. What this means is that they’re all getting on her private jet and going to St. Lucia.

David Lee is TERRIFIED of the private jet. I would be too since I hate small planes (and all planes, but particularly small ones), but I am still enjoying watching him squirm. Lucca is too.

Lucca DELIGHTS in reminding David they’re in a small metal tube with nothing holding them up. It’s fantastic.

Bianca offers David Lee a CBD cocktail, because of course she does. This episode is doing a good job of reminding me of why David Lee and Canning were both once really effective characters, so if the writers can use them this way moving forward, I’ll be happy.

Bianca googled Lucca and demands to see pictures of her very cute baby. She then takes Lucca’s phone and starts up Tinder. This is a strange dynamic because it’s friendly but also sudden and also Bianca is paying Lucca for this time. But both of them could use friends, so I’m just going to be cautiously optimistic a real friendship could grow out of this.

David Lee chugging a CBD cocktail is most definitely something I needed in my life. Thank you writers!

Our characters are wealthy but everyone they deal with in this episode is ultrawealthy. Like, disgustingly wealthy. Bianca seems nice but holy shit no one needs to fly to St. Lucia for lunch.

Court stuff happens. This episode is more interesting than just “court stuff happens” but the point is pretty simple-- Julius gets increasingly outraged at the breakdown of the system he believes in, and things keep getting more and more bizarre.

Julius turns to the corrupt judge Adrian is sleeping with (I think the writers need to tell me what I am supposed to think of her because… I just don’t understand who she’s supposed to be, unless “corrupt judge who creeps me out yet for some reason Adrian is still into” is the point OR unless I am supposed to see her corruption as somehow excusable... ) for advice. She calls their job “shadow play” and says the system is all fake. That would explain why she’s open to bribery, then. She agrees to help Julius get the CEO into court, but I think she’s just helping to illustrate how futile this will be if he tries to resist again.

David Lee also doesn’t like the food on the island. It’s so funny.

Lucca’s dress is really cute.

Bianca says Lucca must think she’s crazy for flying just to get guava for lunch. Lucca says, “No, it’s just a very different lifestyle from mine.” That’s an understatement. Bianca’s life changed in the last few years, and she’s worried it’s all going to go away (so, it’s implied, she’s living it up now). It seems she has some sort of skincare/cosmetics empire.

Bianca is worried that in the next recession (oh look at that timely comment), her products will be the first thing people cut back on. Curious to know if this is happening.

Bianca’s other concern is that she has no friends now because she’s rich. Everyone wants something. “You’re so full of shit,” Lucca says, refusing to pity Bianca. This makes Bianca like her more.

Bianca talks about a service to matchmake friends. She found it weird, but she doesn’t find “this” (befriending Lucca, even though she is probably paying Lucca WAY more than the friend matchmaker fee) weird. Lucca is always entering into friendships so formally! Okay it’s just two scenes (this one and the one where she and Alicia become friends) but still.

Lucca reminds Bianca she’s also her lawyer.

Bianca asks if DLee is drawing out the case. She’s not stupid. Lucca says David isn’t drawing it out, but I think they both know the answer.

(Question based on what happens later in the ep- if David actually has reasoning, then why in the world would he not tell Bianca OR Lucca about it? And why do they need to have overly long meetings to draw things out? Can’t they just schedule them with large gaps? Idk the whole thing is weird and if David isn’t going to share his strategy that’s on him.)

The CEO finally shows up in court and Julius thinks he’s won. He hasn’t. He says he’s asserting privilege he can’t reveal because it is privileged. The CEO acts like Julius is in the wrong, which pisses Julius off. The CEO gets held in custody and Julius says that the restaurant can’t be bulldozed until the CEO complies.

Then Julius gets the mysterious MEMO 618. Dun dun dun.

I know there must be more but I feel like we know what Memo 618 is? Like, no we don’t know who sent it or exactly what it means, but we know the effect of what it does. What is the mystery? Who sent it?

At night, Julius takes the mystery memo to Judge Hazelwood. She plays dumb because-- as we find out later-- Adrian is within earshot. Adrian’s jacket is apparently very recognizable because Julius spots it. I believe it; Adrian has a distinctive style.

Adrian talks about taking their relationship public. So Judge Hazelwood bribing people didn’t end the relationship?

Adrian also asks about Memo 618. He knows she knows what it is. She distracts him by getting on top of him.

Depositions for Bianca’s divorce get contentious but she has the upperhand. Lucca suggests that Bianca settle now and get the ex out of her life-- “balance money with psychological wellness.” Sounds reasonable to me!

At work, Judge Hazelwood is more forthcoming. And Julius did recognize the jacket. Judge Hazelwood tells Julius to let the CEO out and stop asking about the memo. Julius wants to get her on tape, but instead she tells him to get in an Uber and go to an address. She also warns that the court has a program if you break your phone. Sounds like a threat…

Julius finds the Uber easily and then goes on a long journey to the countryside. The driver, it turns out, is a former federal judge who didn’t comply with a mystery memo and he warns Julius to just do what they say or he’ll end up an Uber driver barely able to support his family. (THINK OF YOUR SIX CHILDREN, JULIUS.)

Lucca wearing heels at her standing desk is… just silly, why would she do this? She wouldn’t take off one heel to stretch her foot; she would have a pair of flats to wear in her office. (This episode is written and directed by men, just fyi.) (Do women actually do this? I hate heels so I would never even consider it, but I feel like everyone hates heels??? Even the people who wear them all the time???)

David is all mad at Lucca for encouraging Bianca to settle because it has tax implications. Two things: One, if there’s this obvious reason to delay, I feel like Lucca would have figured it out. Two, LUCCA IS ON DAVID’S SIDE. And if he’s allowed to say this out loud now, he could have said it earlier. So… no pity for David Lee. This is why you cooperate with your colleagues instead of antagonizing them.

Liz-- who has been quite underused in this episode-- is also fed up with the dogs. She and Adrian storm upstairs to say, in Adrian’s words, “they can’t use this floor as a toilet for their motherfucking dogs.”

They bust through the doors to the long hallway (which in real life would DEFINITELY have a key card reader on it) and push past the receptionist.

Mr. Firth is holding a very cute dog named Avenger. Mr. Firth also refers to Liz as “Elizabeth”.

Liz asks that the dogs stop “shitting” on their floor. After all, this was supposed to be a partnership, not an acquisition (does anyone believe that? I think Liz is just using their BS corporate talk against them). Mr. Firth says he will find a way to deal with the dogs. Adrian takes the opportunity to mention that the equity partners need their money. “How do we want to satisfy this?” Mr. Firth asks. “Give them money,” Liz says. Mr. Firth agrees to meet about this next week. He also gives Liz and Adrian access to the executive elevator. He’s just trying to appease them so they’ll be more on his side.

Liz and Adrian both recognize that was too easy, but decide to take the win. I feel like this problem is going to come back…

Julius apologizes and releases the CEO. He recuses himself but says that in the meantime the restaurant will stand.

Diane knows something’s off and confronts Julius. She’s furious but Julius asks her to leave. I wonder what Diane would’ve done in Julius’s situation. It’s very easy to become complicit…

The restaurant is torn down anyway, making Diane even angrier. She tells Julius it’s on him and he reminds her that he is a judge.

And this is how systems are perpetuated.

That’s the end of the episode, save for the message about the two week break before episode 3 from the cast and crew. I appreciate that they included this, and that they included the whole crew rather than just the Kings and the cast.

I don’t even recognize most of the crew! I recognize the cast (duh), Dan Lawson (the costume designer), the makeup artist (I think I’ve seen her in various instagram posts), Brooke Kennedy, and the Kings.

Jonathan Coulton is in the video too (he’s totally a part of the TGF family at this point-- and is one of few people to be on TGW, BrainDead, TGF, AND Evil) to lead everyone in an adorable (but somewhat out of sync) singalong. Awwww.

#the good fight #tgfthoughts

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texastheband · 4 years

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Super Shar

Interview by Simon Gage, Photography by Wayne Maser Taken from Marie Claire UK - December 2001

She's one of the most successful women in British music, but Sharleen Spiteri refuses to let fame go to her head. And she doesn't mince her words about people who do. Here, the Texas singer gives Simon Gage the lowdown on babies, relationships and having Madonna and Guy round for tea. Photographs by Wayne Maser.

'And you need white wine vinegar, which is weird, but it's the secret ingredient,' says Sharleen Spiteri as she jams another slice of toast into her mouth and peers through the steam from a mug of tea big enough to soak your feet in. She's sitting in the television room of the huge house near London's Regent's Park she shares with her boyfriend, Ashley Heath, editorial director of The Face, explaining a pavlova recipe. (She doesn't mention she is making it for Tom Ford, designer for Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent.) The dustbins outside are full of carrier bags from Alexander McQueen - an old mate of hers from way back - and the kitchen is big enough to drive a Jeep around, but it's a homely home, not a stupidly luxurious swank pad. Although goodness knows, it could be. The house is fairly new to Sharleen - bought with the cash she's earned since Texas's resurrection with the White On Blonde album in 1997 made her a multi-millionaire - but it already looks lived in, with books and candles everywhere, a huge Aga and comfy settees. Her mum and dad are down from Glasgow to help her redecorate. Obviously, she could afford to employ a team of painters - she is one of the wealthiest women in the UK, with recent rich lists placing her higher than Posh but she sees this as a nice way of spending more time with her parents. 'And I get a lot of satisfaction from it.' she adds. 'We've been taking thousands of books off the shelves so we can paint. It's one of those jobs where you end up going, "Why the fuck did I start this?", but they're all back now and it looks fantastic.' Sharleen, 33, may be one of the most successful women in British music -the Greatest Hits album is six times platinum and counting but she is not going to let that stop her getting on with painting her shelves and sloping into cafes for junk food. She may have no time for the Mariah Careys of this world - they fell out last year - but to the women in the second-hand clothes shop we stop off at in Camden on our way to Marks & Spencer for bread, Sharleen's probably the nicest customer they'll have all day. The thing with Sharleen is she doesn't do the superstar thing and has a great talent for not being spotted. It's not like she's in disguise or anything - her hair is tied in a makeshift knot, she's wearing 'great label, but low-impact' clothes and she keeps her head up, talking non-stop in her recognisable Glasgow drawl. She even gives me a body-popping run-through of a Missy Elliott video in the middle of a road without anyone batting an eyelid, then goes on to say how shocked she was when a paparazzo tried to take a picture of her nipping out for milk. Shocked not in a 'How dare you?' way, but in a 'Why would you?' way. But that's Shar all over. She still doesn't quite get what all the fuss is about.

So we hear you're about to take two years off. SS: So people keep telling me. I'm not rushing to do the next record. I think people need a little break and so do I. Johnny [McElhone] and I are still writing [songs], but sometimes it's difficult to know where you want to go musically so we had to take a break. Two years is ample time to have a baby. I knew you were going to say that. Even my friends are phoning up and saying, 'Do you want to come to this party?' and if I go no, they ask, 'Are you pregnant?' and I'm like, 'Piss off!' If it happens, it happens. Hell, I ain't getting any younger. You're doing alright, aren't you? Is there anything you still want and can't have? No. I don't think having something you want has got anything to do with being a millionaire [laughs], but you can say that when you're loaded. I've never been happier. I can come and go, see my mates, have them round to the house and just have a laugh. Did you always dream of being a popstar? I never dreamed of being a popstar What defines a popstar? Someone who sings for a living and everyone screams at them. What defines a musician? Someone who does that but no one screams. So, what am I? You're a popstar. Yeah, but am I the same as people like Hear'say? I don't have a group of producers and writers who are writing songs for me and getting records ready so I can walk in and do my vocal. I don't sell newspapers, I sell records. Those popstars who sell newspapers don't sell albums.

Now you've made it, do things still impress you? Like when Alan Rickman phones to say he wants to be in your video? It's funny because [since the In Demand video], women come up to me and go,'Oh, what is Alan Rickman like?' He's lovely, we're mates. There's no bullshit to him. When we were doing the video, he told me he was up for a part in Harry Potter and I was like, 'Oh, my God! I love Harry Potter' When he got it, he phoned and said, 'Do you want to come down to the set?' I was like, 'You're damn right I do.' I took my niece and two nephews. It was so cool. You were supposed to be in Moulin Rouge, weren't you? What part? The Nicole Kidman part, but it would have meant spending a year filming in Australia. Now it's released, don't you think, 'That could have been me'? No. When I say no, it's no. I didn't ever see me doing that part. I was doing The Hush [Texas's fifth album] and that was more important than doing a movie.

What about when Madonna phones to ask you to dinner, does that impress you? My first meeting was at her house, so it's different from being in a popstar environment. It's pretty funny walking in the door and she's like, 'Hi, I'm Madonna.' You're a bit like, 'Yeah, I know that.' But isn't she just like all those popstars with the producers and the writers standing by? I honestly think she takes the music thing very seriously. We played with her and that wasn't a show where you just walk on and go, 'Let's see what happens.' It was very slick. Were you scared of her? Absolutely not. She's very bright - you don't get that amount of success without being bright. And what is Guy Ritchie like? Guy's nice. He's very real. But he gets criticised for being fake. Everyone reinvents themselves. It's bullshit when people go, 'That's not your background and you can't act like that.' I couldn't care less where Guy comes from. You're either nice or you're not. I don't need your family history to be in your company. Have they been to your house yet? No. It's just a case of getting it together. How would you be able to relax? Why wouldn't you? I don't understand. 'Oh my God, Madonna's coming round, I'll have to get the house repainted.' For fuck's sake. The night we went over, it was me, Stella [McCartney], Ash [Ashley Heath], Guy, Madonna, Guy's dad and his wife, and it was dead relaxed, like any dinner.

‘I don’t do cleavage, Cleavage is overrated’ - Sharleen

Did you see Madonna in concert? No. I was really busy. Was she upset? I'm sure she couldn't have given a flying fuck. So if you're not worried about meeting Madonna, what do you worry about? I'm really worried about my niece, because she's being bullied at school. I get angry more than I worry. I'm really bad at biting my tongue. I've seen people's jaws drop in a 'I can't believe she just said that' way. So you don't dream of having a body like Geri? Everyone would like it, but I wouldn't want to do the work. I couldn't bear having to think about it every time I want to eat. That's not living. I think she looks like a very ill girl. I'm just like, 'Get over it.' Would you ever do the bikini thing for a magazine? I don't need to. Some people might find the need to have a photo of them retouched, but I can't think of anything worse than going home after your boyfriend sees you on a magazine cover with your arse up to here and tits ping, ping, and then you go in and it's reality, gravity. Don't get me wrong, I really care that it's a nice picture. If I go into a studio and there's a stylist going, 'We really think...', I'm like, 'No, this is what I'm wearing because this is the way I look.' You have a big female following, don't you? A woman liking me is the biggest compliment you can pay me. After the Elvis video, so many women said, 'Well done, you're so brave.' Why brave? Because it wasn't you in a sexy little dress. I'm so bored with tits and arse. Did you know you were above Kylie and Madonna as the act most requested at Gay Pride this year? I couldn't believe it. I was like, 'Bring it on, the queen has got her crown back.' You've got a big lesbian following. Have you ever been tempted? No. I love women, but I don't fancy them. I look at women and think, 'Man, she's gorgeous.' I'd like to look like Angelina Jolie. I think she's so sexy. I love her big lips and her kooky character, and I find her madness appealing. I don't think she acts it. How does your boyfriend cope with you being a superstar? A lot of men would find that hard. Ashley's not that type. He's a very confident person, always has been. That's what attracted me to him.

When I walk into the East London photo studio about a week later, the first voice I hear is Sharleen's. She's in the middle of telling the team of internationally celebrated photographers, stylists and make-up artists some off-colour stories. The photographer reckons he doesn't know Texas's music, so someone puts on the Greatest Hits, to which Sharleen lip-syncs like a drag queen, throwing in some comedy Mariah Carey moves. As she changes from her white T-shirt into a variety of top-drawer designer togs, most of which she's brought along herself, the only thing that stays the same is her attitude. Halfway through doing a glamorous shot laid out on the floor, she asks if we can see her balls up her skirt, then she comes out in a top with a plunging neckline, pulling the sides together because, 'I don't do cleavage. Cleavage is over-rated.' Are you still big mates with Chris Evans? SS: I haven't spoken to him since he got married, but I really believe that he and Billie are in love. I met her at a funeral with Chris. Everyone is going on about Billie and Chris and you think, 'OK, so Chris has fallen in love again,' because Chris does that. When I met him with Billie, I thought, 'Oh, this is different.' I don't know her, but she was very relaxed in his company, and he was in hers, and I don't see Chris like that very much. I thought she was a really nice girl. I was quite taken aback. But you forget how young she is. What age is she? Nineteen. I never knew she was that Young. Age makes no difference to me. At that age, I was writing I Don't Want A Lover. I still stand by the lyric. Did you go to Madonna's wedding? No. There were only 60 people invited. If Madonna had invited me to her wedding, I would have wondered why. She's only known me a year. Are you going to invite her to your wedding? Who says I'm getting married? [Laughing] That was the cheesiest way of asking me I've ever heard. So ... ? Probably... I don't know how you decide. I always find it horrible when people talk about it. You're big on monogamy, aren't you? I'm a romantic. I think I'm a realist, to be honest with you. Is monogamy a big deal to me? Fuck, yes. If it lasts a week or lasts the rest of your life. So you won't put up with any running around? No. That's like [split sound] material. It's not good. Would you end it even for a minor indiscretion? Yeah. Why would you have a boyfriend? You might as well just be shagging people. Don't you ever fancy a meaningless shag? No. A shag is the ultimate closeness you can get to me, mentally and physically. When I'm having sex, that's completely me. It has to be really special. That's the way I am. You don't think there are different sorts of sex? You're talking like a man; 'I shagged her and it didn't mean anything.' How do you know it didn't to the other person? I think there are lots of girls who kid on that they don't care, but I don't believe women are like that. But I'm not interested in other people's sex lives. I love having a laugh and a great conversation, but you've seen me with my girlfriends and we're like, 'You dirty devil' and laugh like other women. We talk about sex, but not our sex lives. It's an urban myth that women talk about what they do in bed. So what are your thoughts on Posh? Every time I've met Victoria, she's been a sweetheart. Everyone goes on about her, but you still pick up the paper to see what she's up to. She seems pretty normal. Well, not in the sense that I'm normal, but I think she's actually quite normal in her heart.

See the photoshoot: here Read the scans: here Text originally posted on texasindemand.com

#article #greatesthits #marie claire #marieclaire #Wayne Maser #WayneMaser #sharleenspiteri #sharleen spiteri

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the-desolated-quill · 4 years

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BBC’s The War Of The Worlds blog - Episode 1

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I was very much looking forward to the BBC’s adaptation of the H.G. Wells sci-fi classic. How could I not? It’s the definitive alien invasion story that jump-started an entire genre of science fiction Not to mention this is the first adaptation made by a British film company and actually set in the time period it was written. I was very excited. Nothing could possibly dampen my spirits... until I learned who was writing it.

Peter Harness is a writer I’ve been less than kind to in the past. For those who don’t know, he wrote some of the worst episodes of Doctor Who. Remember that stupid story about the moon being an egg? Yeah, that was him. He also has a penchant for writing painfully forced and thinly veiled allegories with all the grace and subtlety of a ballet dancing rhino in a glow in the dark tutu. Kill The Moon, for example, was a pro life metaphor that portrayed the other side as being irrational baby killers, and his Zygon two parter was about Muslim immigration and integration, with the slimy repulsive Zygons being used as stand-ins for Muslims and non-white immigrants.

Harness’ ability to write allegorical stories about sensitive topics is... under-developed, to say the least. So naturally he’s the perfect candidate to adapt one of the most beloved sci-fi stories ever written. I mean, why not? The BBC have already ruined Sherlock Holmes, courtesy of Steven Moffat. Why stop there?

In all seriousness, while I wasn’t excited about the prospect of Harness getting his grubby mitts on War Of The Worlds, part of me hoped that maybe he could pull something out of the bag. You may recall I held a very similar negative view toward Chris Chibnall, and his first series as showrunner of Doctor Who was an extremely pleasant surprise. Maybe Harness could achieve his own metamorphosis.

He doesn’t.

The first episode of War Of The Worlds was fucking tedious to sit through. It actually looked quite promising initially. We get some nice moody shots of the surface of Mars as Eleanor Tomlinson recites the famous opening lines of the book. But then just after the opening titles, it all goes downhill.

I was sceptical when it was announced that this would be a three parter because that just seemed too much. A feature length film you could do. Maybe a two parter, at a push. But three episodes? Each an hour long? That’s going to require a lot of padding, and that’s exactly what Episode 1 is. We see the Martian cylinders launch from the planet at the beginning of the episode and it’s not until the forty minute mark where we get our first proper glimpse of the Tripods or the heat rays. So what do we get in the mean time? Mostly pointless shit.

The original War Of The Worlds book isn’t exactly remembered for its characterisation. Outside of the astronomer Ogilvy, none of the characters even have names, but to be fair to Wells, the characters themselves weren’t really the driving force of the narrative. The Martians were. The narrator, a journalist, was merely there to relay and facilitate the plot, giving us a first hand account of the subjugation of Earth. Fine for a book, but somewhat harder to get away with in a film or TV series, which is why most don’t even try. Every single adaptation of War Of The Worlds attempts to expand on the central characters to varying degrees of success, and the BBC version is no exception. But where Harness really miscalculates is in anticipating how much the audience is going to care about the characters, to which the answer is ‘not that much.’ We don’t want them to die obviously, but we’re not so interested in who they are or where they come from because they’re not the main focus. The Martians are. So to have a significant chunk of the episode focusing on their day to day lives is quite baffling. Not to mention unbelievably boring.

George, played by Rafe Spall, is living out of wedlock with Amy, played by Eleanor Tomlinson, which causes their neighbours’ tongues to clack and net curtains to twitch. The only person supporting their union is Ogilvy, played by Robert Carlysle, which is how they learn about the mysterious goings on the surface of Mars. This is all established in the first five minutes, but as I said, the Martians don’t properly show up until the forty minute mark. Until then we’re subjected to painfully forced and tediously dull ‘right on’ posturing and irrelevant social commentary that adds nothing to the core narrative.

Here’s the thing. I’ve got nothing against the idea of expanding the characters. I definitely have no problem with giving the narrator’s wife from the book more development and screen time. In fact I’m all in favour of it. What I do have a problem with, however, is when that expansion and development comes at the expense of the plot.

A man and a woman shacked up together in defiance of society is all well and good, but what does any of this have to do with War Of The Worlds? It’s not even as if Harness tries to connect this back to the story’s main themes of imperialism and colonialism. It’s mentioned that Amy was born and raised in India. Maybe if she was an Indian woman, it could have been more thematically relevant, but no. Once again we have a period drama with no people of colour because, as we all know, non-white people weren’t invented until 1962. Also, while I get that society at the time was very strict, I’m not entirely convinced George and Amy’s relationship would have been that scandalous to the point where it would have affected his career as a journalist. That just seems like a step too far and is merely there to add some artificial tension... in a story about Martians invading the Earth.

In the end it all comes down to this. Why the fuck should I care? What’s the bloody point of this? Yes it expands the characters, but it doesn’t contribute anything to the narrative. It just wastes time. Again, I must stress, we don’t get our first Martian until forty minutes into an hour long episode. Previous adaptations never felt the need to bore the audience to death with pointless shit because they knew what audiences came to see. Martians blowing shit up. Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of War Of The Worlds from 2005 didn’t piss about giving us needless exposition about Tom Cruise and his family. We’re given the basic info about the characters and their relationships within the first ten minutes before the Tripods emerge and the action gets going. The BBC version, in contrast, is just painfully slow, dictating every tiny thing about these characters even when it’s not relevant to the plot.

And the thing is, once we actually get to the bits from the actual book (you know? The bits people actually want to see?), it’s actually pretty good. The Tripod looks incredible, as was the scene in Horsell Common where we saw people getting killed by the heat ray. Unfortunately we have to slog through all this other crap before we can get to the good stuff.

Eleanor Tomlinson probably gives the strongest performance as Amy. It’s just a pity the character is so utterly uninteresting. Like I said, I’ve got nothing against giving her a bigger role than she had in the book, but it feels like Harness is more interested in showing off his feminist credentials than actually telling a story or creating a believable or likeable character. Her being an assistant to Ogilvy I think is a great idea, but it soon becomes clear that this was only done so other male scientists could comment on how unusual it is to have a woman digging up a crashed cylinder, which is kind of ridiculous because I’m pretty sure female scientists did exist back then and you don’t exactly need a penis to use a fucking shovel. Then things turn really stupid when George’s brother, played by Rupert Graves, starts blaming her for the Martian invasion, saying that everything was going fine until she came along. Exploring 19th century sexism is one thing, but this is just daft. There’s no interest in actually exploring the root causes of sexism back then. Instead Harness seems content with portraying men as being the equivalent of cartoon caricatures foaming at the mouth.

George, meanwhile, goes from being a fairly boring character to a downright hateful one when it’s revealed that he and Amy aren’t just living out of wedlock, but that he cheated on his missus because she was infertile. So not only do I not care about him, I now straight up want him to die because what the actual fuck?! And this is not helped by Rafe Spall’s incredibly wooden performance. Seriously, I’ve seen corpses with more life in them. When the Tripod first emerges, we see him stare at it in what I assume was supposed to be shock, but instead he just looked gormless. It’s honest to God one of the worst performances I think I’ve ever seen. There’s no emotional range to him whatsoever. He just blunders around wearing a confused frown on his face. It’s as if he had just wandered onto the set by mistake.

The biggest problem with this first episode is that Harness is focusing on all the wrong areas. A large segment is dedicated to George investigating the Dogger Bank incident, which seems to be an attempt at making a parallel between the UK’s tenuous relationship with Russia then and now. What this has to do with War Of The Worlds, I don’t know. There’s so far been no attempt at exploring the themes of the source material as we’re too busy with this shitty romance. There’s even a moment where we see the characters dig up the cylinder and take a photo only for the same exact scene to happen five minutes later. I mean for fuck sake!

And then there’s the pointless plot twists. First we get the cliched pregnancy reveal, then it’s revealed that the scenes we thought were on Mars turned out to actually be a post apocalyptic Earth with Amy and a seven year old kid who is presumably her son. Wait, how long has this fucking invasion been going on for?! It only lasted a couple of weeks in the book! What happened? Did the Martians get vaccinated? This just highlights to me how inept Harness is as a writer. He can’t just do a straight adaptation of War Of The Worlds. He has to engineer these pointless and utterly idiotic cliffhangers to get people to keep watching because the story and characters clearly aren’t doing that.

If I wasn’t committed to reviewing this mini-series, I honestly wouldn’t watch the rest of this. This first episode is legitimately terrible. Boring, poorly thought out and utterly, utterly clueless. Just like everything else Peter Harness has ever written. I don’t understand why he was chosen to adapt War Of The Worlds and I don’t understand why he chose to adapt it in this way. Why so much focus on pointless exposition? Why over-complicate the lives of the main characters? Why can’t they just be a normal married couple living a life of privilege until the Martians come and trample all over it? It makes no sense! Some could defend this saying it was building tension until the Martians emerged, but there’s a significant difference between making an audience nervously anticipate the Tripods arrival and making them wait impatiently for something, anything, interesting to happen.

#the war of the worlds #hg wells #peter harness #bbc #review #spoilers

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arabellaflynn · 4 years

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Text of a test monologue. Would you like to see me deliver this on camera, with no makeup, no lighting equipment, and using Notepad as a TelePrompTer? Head on over to my https://www.patreon.com/ArabellaFlynnPatreon, and for a dollar a month you too can see me waffle on in real time.

Hi, all. You may notice that I am on video now. I was going to shoot a couple of tests and apologize for the poor quality of the footage, and explain that I want to start vlogging and streaming in addition to writing, but I need some equipment to do it properly and for that I need to raise some funds... But fuck it. This is going out first instead.

As I record this, it is the fourth of July. You can probably hear the fireworks outside my window. I know I can. There are a lot of those, because we've all been inside and bored for the past four months.

I know a lot of people who have opted not to observe the holiday this year. The 4th of July is often viewed as a celebration of the American institution, which is a little bit on fire right now, with a few people determined to squirt lighter fluid all over the flames like a bored suburban dad at a barbecue. On the other hand, it's also Independence Day, and marks the end of the long, painful process by which a population broke free of distant, uncaring overlords who cared mainly about the financial dividends of their colonies, and ignored the grievances of the people until they started breaking shit. So YMMV.

I would comment on some of the details, but I don't know them. The Late Show is on hiatus, and John Oliver doesn't air until tomorrow. I, like a lot of my demographic, get most of my current events from comedians. There's a reason for that.

I actually watched a lot of news as a teenager.

Well, "watched" might be too strong a word. It's easier for me to fall asleep if there's some sort of droning noise in the background. When I was about fifteen, I discovered that, unlike the main CNN channel, which has actual shows and documentaries, CNN Headline News just runs the day's top stories over and over again in an unending 30 minute loop. Interesting enough to keep me from falling into a train of thought that will prevent me from sleeping, boring enough that I don't want to stay up and listen.

I have no memory of the desk anchors. I'm sure they were consummate professionals, but they also had no distinguishing human characteristics whatsoever. I know they were updating the loop live, because occasionally a story would be added to the list and another one would drop off the back, and occasionally one would flub the text on their prompter, but other than that there was no hint that the face at the desk was attached to a living, breathing person.

I do remember a couple of the correspondents. One was Christiane Amanpour. Her voice stood out; CNN is an American news station that was originally restricted to American cable networks, and the vast majority of the staff is from the US. Amanpour is British-Iranian, having split her childhood between Tehran, before the revolution, and London, after. They liked to send her to the bowels of Eastern Europe to report from the war-torn streets of Citygrad in Countrystan. She had already caught some criticism on her reporting of the Bosnian War, for advancing the apparently controversial opinion that genocide was bad. I didn't know that at the time; I just thought she sounded more like she told real stories than read off lists of facts.

Another was Anderson Cooper, who was not nearly such a big deal then as he is now. Cooper, a self-described adrenaline junkie, was a war correspondent at the time, with a habit of ducking only briefly for explosions before standing back up to continue his piece to camera. He wouldn't be infamous until his coverage of Hurricane Katrina years later, both for the overall stellar job he did, and also for that one time he got tired of getting non-answers from some government toad in a live interview and very professionally flipped his shit at the lady, asking if she realized how tone deaf it was to sit there thanking other politicians for doing essentially nothing while there were still bodies in the street.

I quit watching the news when I moved away to college. It wasn't necessarily that knowing was worse than not knowing, but I felt a lot of pressure to be "adult" about it at that point, and watching proper news shows made me anxious to the point where I wouldn't sleep. I outright avoided it to the point where I made it to a canceled class at 4 pm, Mountain Standard Time, on September 11, 2001, before anyone told me what was going on.

I wasn't able to put my finger on why I found the news so horrible until many years later. I can't remember what rabbit hole I'd fallen down, but I ended up sitting on YouTube watching segments of the live news coverage of the 1981 assassination attempt on President Reagan. Reagan was shot in the side and later recovered without complications, but his Press Secretary, James Brady, was struck in the head and sustained considerable neurological damage. Brady, together with his wife Sarah, later went on to be a noted advocate for gun control, but at the time was reported to have died on the scene.

I wound up watching a lot of one of the news desks -- ABC, I think. It started out like all the others, until the anchor tripped up a couple of times and referred to Press Secretary Brady as "Jim", and I realized: He knows these people. Personally. He's a member of the White House Press Corps, or a friend of the Bradys, or both. I'm watching a journalist reporting on a moment of historical significance to the American people, and a human being who has to tell the entire nation about someone's personal tragedy. His investment did not make him any less professional or informative than any of the others, but it did make his coverage feel very grounded in reality in a way that most news, then and now, does not.

The older I get, the more disquieting I find it to have a talking head behind a shiny desk read me a list of horrible things that have happened today without any apparent reaction. It makes it seem like these things are a randomized representative sample of the cruelty of the universe, rather than what they are, which is a list of things so unusually terrible they made the news. I realize that this is part of an effort to remain impartial so that the viewer can decide how they feel about events, but it's also disturbingly normative. Yes, everything is on fire, everything is always on fire, this is nothing new.

I can't say I'm any more enamored of the opposite, either, the more recent style where the news anchor's entire job is to tell you that entirety of human existence is awful and here's what you should prioritize being afraid of this week. Everything around you is on fire, the fire is racing right at you, and here's whose fault the fire is.

A lot of Americans, especially younger ones, have taken to getting their news mostly from political satire because-- well, one, because for about the past twenty years, our comedians have been better at fact-checking than our actual newsrooms. You can thank Jon Stewart for getting a bee in his bonnet over that. But also because their coverage of major issues takes neither of those paths. The Daily Show alumni write up stories like they actually live on the planet they're reporting from. You're on fire? They're on fire too! Holy shit, let's all find some water!

The conceit behind the comedy of The Daily Show and the Colbert Report and Full Frontal and Last Week Tonight and now the monologues on The Late Show is not that this is a normal amount of fire for everything to be on so it's fine, nor establishing that someone has set you on fire on purpose and here's who should be punished for it. It's bewilderment and frustration at the way we somehow keep catching on fire over and over again. Yeah, they crack jokes, because it's their job, but all the jokes are predicated on the idea that this is, above all, just very, very, inexplicably stupid. We can, and we should, be better than this. And the hosts stubbornly refuse to just give up and internalize as immutable all the reasons why we aren't.

You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Jon Stewart has accumulated "fuck you" money from his time on The Daily Show, among other things. I really hope the rest of them are doing the same. Because we need some figureheads who are able to say "fuck you" to a lot of authority figures right now without having to worry about how their family is going to survive the next month. John Oliver has HBO backing and I'm pretty sure Last Week Tonight has roughly equal budgets set aside for handling lawsuits and shoveling money at charity. Stephen Colbert has been insulting Donald Trump as hard as he possibly can since day one, and he just re-upped until 2023. Samantha Bee has her husband holding the camera to shoot her monologues out in the woods.

They've all figured out how to produce their show over the internet, so at least we have something to watch in the After Times.

I really hope the neighbors run out of fireworks soon. Aside from not wanting the neighborhood to be literally on fire at any point, one of my housemates has a dog, and the dog has epilepsy, so this has been an interesting evening. Sorry about the fireworks, sorry about the camera, sorry about the country, sorry about the state of the world. Imma go find my Xanax. G'night.

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#IFTTT #Blogger #Unsolicited Advice

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nyxelestia · 4 years

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I’ve talked a ton about what fandom spaces look like when Black woman steps into a racebent role, but not about what happens to Black men who play racebent roles in the same franchises.

If you think that things are any easier for Black men in fandom well…

You’ve thought wrong.

This installment of What Fandom Racism Looks Like will look at how the racism behind how the Smallville fandom treated Pete Ross – played by Sam Jones III – and how, over a decade later, the Supergirl fandom pulls from the same playbook in order to excuse heaping a ton of racism on James Olsen and the black actor that plays him, Mehcad Brooks.

It is a fact of fandom that Black characters of any gender are treated poorly in comparison to non-Black characters. When you take gender into consideration, misogynoir leaps out and the anti-black and anti-woman violence leaps out, but that doesn’t mean that Black men have ever been beloved in fandom.

Some Black men/male characters are liked a little bit more than Black women in similar shows or properties, but can you actually name one that is treated on the same level as a white male character or performer?

Can you name one that’s actually beloved?

We’re now in my fifth year of running Stitch’s Media Mix and one constant that I’ve talked about is the way that the Star Wars fandom maligns, dismisses, and makes weird shit up about Finn and his actor John Boyega.

Folks across various fandom spaces don’t limit their ire just to Finn’s existence and creating fanworks (fiction, art, and meta fandom analysis) that turn him into a villain or kill him off so that Kylo Ren could succeed as the “real” hero of the franchise.

No.

I’m talking about folks deciding Boyega has to be homophobic because he’s Nigerian-British and because his father is prominent in their church and things like the time folks flooded his mentions calling him a misogynist and sexist and even @-ing Lucasfilm/Disney over a video of him dancing during carnival.

What Finn and John Boyega go have been going through since in 2015 is what Mehcad Brooks and James Olsen go through in 2019.

It’s an updated version of what Sam Jones III and Pete Ross went through a decade ago.

Looking back now, it’s obvious that the Smallville fandom was predictable in the same ways that many other superhero fandoms are now.

The most popular ship for the fandom was between two white male characters – Lex Luthor and Clark Kent – frenemies for life.

It’s a fandom that often treated white female characters and characters of color as obstacles in the way of the main slash relationship – instead of like Lex Luthor’s everything. It’s a ship with a fanbase that pretty much cut out or ignored the relationships either white male character had with white women or people of color in order to portray their relationship as the most important one across the series.

With that much predictability, it’s not that difficult to look back at fanworks from when the Smallville fandom was at its highest and draw connections between what fandom did over a decade ago and what it continues to do now.

Pete Ross wasn’t the first sidekick or friend in a superhero drama to be racebent.

In Smallville alone, biracial Chinese-American Kristen Kreuk was cast to play a racebent version of Clark Kent’s teenaged sweetheart Lana Lang. (And Dean Cain’s Clark Kent on The Adventures of Clark Kent and Lois Lane in the early Nineties was visibly not white.)

However, the fandom’s response to this newly Black Pete Ross was… different.

When folks in fandom deigned to write him, they wrote him as a shucking and jiving stereotype, an approximation of what they think Black men were like In 2002.

Back then, longtime fan writer teland aired one hell of a grievance about the way that folks in the Smallville fandom insisted on writing Pete Ross when the series first aired, writing that:

If I *never* see another story where Pete fucking ROSS goes around speaking stereotypical JIVE again it will be too soon. What the fuck is *wrong* with you people? Do you *watch* the show? Has Pete *ever* been anything but a normal smartass teenaged boy with a crush on Chloe and a lust for every other woman his eyes have lit upon? Has he *ever* expressed an interest in the poetry of Amiri Baraka? Does he cruise the streets of Smallville in his low-rider and do drive-bys with his do-rag arranged in Criply perfection?

No?

Then why the *fuck* do you write him that way, numbnuts?

This fannish insistence on writing Pete Ross as hella hood despite the fact that there are next to no other Black people in Smallville – much less a “hood” of any kind – was one of the ways that the Smallville fandom made it very clear that they didn’t actually see Pete Ross as a character. He was a bad blank slate, one that they could overlay not with the nuanced characterization that white blank slates got –

But with stereotypes about Blackness.

There is no “hood” in Smallville, Kansas.

Outside of a few racebent characters, the small country town is pretty darn white. There are several episodes of Smallville where Pete is the only character of color with dialogue. He’s frequently the ONLY black character on-screen and his dialogue and motivations aren’t exactly hard to parse –

So why was fandom’s “go to” for Pete Ross a hella hood version that dropped slang and exhibited a frankly offensive stereotype of Black existence that didn’t even apply to him?

Simply put?

The Smallville fandom, like many fandoms when faced with having to interact with or write a Black character for the first time in ages, gravitated towards what they knew from their limited interactions with Blackness and Black people. Their biases shone through because it was, for them, the only way they knew how to conceptualize Black people.

(You can see this replicated in more modern fandom with how the MCU fandom tries to turn Sam Wilson into a hard hood stereotype in fanworks or that one horrible headcanon where Miles shoplifted to get art supplies – despite his solidly middle-class existence and strong views of right and wrong.)

If you know nothing about Black people outside of what like… Fox News and your elderly grandparents in the Midwest tell you about Black people and have no interest in seeing us AS PEOPLE or doing the work to unbuild those biases, your fanworks that reference or even center Black characters will hold those beliefs.

Pete Ross was on Smallville for three seasons. In those three seasons, the fandom pretty much decided that he was set up to sit in one of two roles. Either he’d be a supportive sidekick to Clark and company, or he’d be a villain. And either way, when they wrote him, they often gravitated to writing him as a hood stereotype.

Again, there are next to no other Black people in Smallville on the seasons Pete Ross is one of Clark’s closest friends.

Smallville is a picture of white Americana right down to how the show and town takes a Highlander-esque approach to diversity where only a few characters of color are even allowed to inhabit the same space at any given time.

Unlike many of the other Black male characters that set fandoms afire with their ire, Pete Ross wasn’t a threat to established ships or character arcs. He was gone before he really had a chance to shine, written off and moved out of town as other characters took his spot at Clark’s right hand.

What happens when a Black male character is in the way of one ship or poses a threat to another?

Well, for the answer to that, we need to fast forward over a decade to the Supergirl fandom and how it treats Mehcad Brooks and his character on the show, James Olsen. From the start, racebending Clark Kent’s most famous sidekick didn’t go well. His casting was met with frustration from all corners of fandom from folks that hated that he was a) Black and b) potentially in a relationship with Kara.

Then season two on The CW happened and the fandom kind of… started mutating in the worst way.

Certain parts of the Supergirl fandom will have you believing that James Olsen is the worst character on the show and that Mehcad is the most problematic person to ever work on a CW show.

They cite Mehcad’s (admittedly offensive) Instagram username, his championing Lena/James as a ship on instagram using a hashtag commonly associated with LGBTQ people, and a comment about how his girlfriend at the time told him that he’s “a lesbian trapped in a football player’s body” made to a trans reporter.

None of those things are great, let’s be very real here.

I don’t actually like or support a lot of how Mehcad Brooks carries himself. I don’t need to like him in order to be very aware of how he’s treated by the fandom from even before he was deemed Problematic.

One of the things I’ve been hyperaware of in fandom is how celebrities and fans of color are shunned for problematic thoughts and behavior in a more… permanent way. There are non-Black CW stars who are problematic – some of them are even on Supergirl – and who’ve presented themselves in ways that aren’t great.

But for the most part, they don’t have people calling for them to be fired or for their character to be killed off.

They don’t have folks pretending to care about marginalized people to cloak their anti-Blackness.

Which is one of my biggest issues with the way that Black male characters are treated in fandom spaces: the way that folks use social justice rhetoric and a vague “desire for representation” to excuse unsubtle racism towards these male characters and their performers.

I know we covered that folks performing wokeness is in the minority of Things That Happen In Fandom, but let’s be clear: this is one occasion where it’s frequent and obvious.

One of the ways that Black characters and performers are subject to racism from fandom is in the way that non-Black fans will reframe them as “too problematic to support” (which therefore allows them to be dehumanized by the fandom that dislikes them). If folks in fandom can claim that they really don’t like a Black character because they need to protect marginalized (white) fans from their existence, then they can’t be called racist.

Because they’re doing it for (white) queer people.

Or (white) women.

But it’s terribly transparent.

After all:

Someone celebrating (with champagne and all) that James Olsen has been shot and that Lex Luthor called him a dog does not actually give a shit about representation for people of color.

Someone fretfully worrying that John Boyega, thanks to his father’s role in their church, is a homophobe that doesn’t actually want Finn/Poe to be canon, doesn’t actually care about queer people.

Someone positing that a Black male character is actually harmful for a non-Black character – and that’s why the fandom has to distrust and dislike them – doesn’t actually care about Black people.

And if you’re out here championing a non-canon (fem)slash ship because #RepresentationMatters at the same time that you’re out here actively wishing evil on a Black performer and hoping that their character gets killed off… you can’t possibly care that much about representation for anyone but white queer people.

It continues to boggle my mind how non-Black fans seem incapable of understanding that we can see their tweets and tumblr posts. They seem incapable of understanding that we know the script as well as they do because we’ve seen them use it across the years of fandom and that we see it put into play, we’re not going to fall for it.

Hell, we’re going to call that crap out.

Pete Ross wasn’t the first Black male character to be mistreated by a white fandom. We’ve got years of evidence of Black male characters being rewritten and misrepresented and torn down in order to lift up non-Black ones. Name me a Black male character in a franchise or fandom and I’ll probably be able to tell you at least two ways that fandom mistreats them.

As we can see with James Olsen, the disgusting way folks in fandom treat and talk about Black male characters and performers. is just going to continue until non-Black fans step up and throw away the script they’re adhering to so hard.

#star wars #john boyega #fandom racism #fandomshatepeopleofcolor #fandom meta #on fandom

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loretranscripts · 4 years

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Lore Episode 129: Digging Deep (Transcript) - 11th November, 2019

tw: ghosts, human remains

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

The construction was called to a stop the moment they found the bones. The work crew was preparing a building site along one of London’s many ancients streets when they uncovered what appeared to be a body – or, at least, the remains of one. It was clearly old, given that nothing but bones could be seen beneath the dirt, so a team of archaeologists was brought in to preserve and study the remains. In the end, they determined that the bones belonged to a teenage girl who had lived in London over 1600 years ago – a Roman girl. It’s not the last time something like that has happened in this city. During some development work near Spitalfields Market in the 1990s, a work crew uncovered what turned out to be an entire Roman cemetery. Among the finds was a perfectly preserved lead coffin, its lid covered in beautiful artwork that had been hammered right into the surface, still visible, all these centuries later.

And that’s the way history tends to work – time will bury it under new and current events. But if we dig deep enough, and brush away the soil, we can come face to face with it all over again. The past never truly goes away, after all. It’s there, waiting to be discovered, so that we can study it and relearn the stories it contains. Oftentimes, though, the things that leave the deepest marks tend to be the most tragic and painful, events that rattled people to their core and left a shadow on the history of a place that no amount of sunlight could ever chase away, and the older the city, the more common those shadows tend to be. Which is why I want to take you on a tour of one of the oldest, because while the past is always nearby in our modern world, few places allow it to dwell so close to the present as the city of London. Its past is both a treasury of historic significance and crypt full of the darkest tragedies we could ever imagine. Because in a city filled with so much light, there’s bound to be some shadows. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

London is ancient, there’s really no other way to say it. Most Americans live in a community that’s less than 200 years old. If you’re in New England or one of the other places with roots in pre-colonial America, perhaps those locations go back a bit further, but London’s history makes all of those seem brand new by comparison. Archaeological work in London can place humans in the area as far back as 4500BC, but if we’re looking for a major settlement where it stands today, that didn’t happen until 47AD, when the Romans arrived and set up a community there that they called “Londinium”. Although from what we can tell, it didn’t last long, all thanks to a woman named Boudicca. As far as historians know, Boudicca was the wife of King Prasutagus, who ruled over an eastern British tribe known as the Iceni. When the Romans arrived in their territory in 43AD, they came to an arrangement with Prasutagus, allowing him to maintain control of his kingdom. When he died 17 years later, though, the Romans refused to acknowledge his widow as the new ruler, and instead invaded them to take the land for themselves. But they misjudged Boudica, assuming she was a quiet woman, incapable of ruling anything. Instead, she rallied a massive army of close to 100,000 warriors and then led them on a campaign against the Romans all over Britain. In 61AD, her army rolled over Londinium like a Sherman tank, burning the entire settlement to the ground. In fact, her campaign against them was so fierce and unstoppable that the Romans nearly left Britain altogether. But those who survived managed to rebuild, and within a handful of decades it had grown large enough to become capital of the entire province.

Over the years, the city continued to expand and mature, and even though the Romans left towards the beginning of the fifth century, the community there refused to die. By the 7th century, London had earned a reputation as a major trade centre, which brought in a steady flow of wealth and goods, and also turned the city into a political powerhouse. Of course, power and wealth has a way of making a community a target for others, and London was no exception. In 1066, William the Conqueror sailed across the English Channel and earned his nickname by taking control of the entire kingdom and making it his own – and, of course, special attention was paid to London. Within two decades, the population of the city had reached nearly 15,000, and by the 1300s that had multiplied to over 80,000.

But something unexpected was heading their way that would ravage that growing community, something mysterious and dangerous and seemingly unstoppable – the Black Death. What started as a plague in western Asia quickly spread to Europe, bringing death and destruction to every community it touched. By the time the Black Death had burned itself out, some historians estimate that upwards of two hundred million people were dead. The people of London lost at least 10,000 lives, most of whom were buried outside the city walls. It wouldn’t be the last time the city would face tragedy. In 1664, a fresh outbreak of the plague killed another 100,000 people, and then two years later, in September of 1666, a fire broke out in the house of a baker on Pudding Lane. It eventually spread west, destroying much of the city as it went, and while there were only six verified casualties, historians now think the fire burned hot enough to completely cremate those who were caught in it, making the true death toll anyone’s guess.

So much of London’s history was tragic and outside human control, but there have also been moments along the way that could only be blamed on the people who lived there. Jack the Ripper and the murders that took place in 1888 in the Whitechapel district of the city are always front and centre in most people’s minds. But there has been a lot more bloodshed than just those five innocent women. In fact, a lot of the city’s murder and violence could be found higher up the ladder, in the very chambers and homes of the people who held the power and wealth. It seemed that rather than being immune to the shadows that lingered in the city, even the powerful could fall under their spell. Because if there’s one thing the nobility of England’s past seem to attract more than anything else, it was pain and suffering and death.

We don’t need to look far to find bloody nobles. It sometimes feels as though all we have to do is open a history book and flip it to a random page. Life at the top was often a cutthroat game, both figuratively and literally, and anyone who found themselves in the orbit of a king or queen certainly understood that risk. A great example of how blood-thirsty the English kings could be was Henry VIII. Henry is known for a lot of things, not all of which are so great in retrospect. He expanded the power of the crown during his lifetime and based a lot of that on his belief in the divine right of kings, something that threatened the freedom of his people. He was greedy and vindictive and had an ego that was only surpassed in size by the codpiece on his armour. But if there is one thing that most people remember today about Henry VIII, it’s his many wives. Henry had six of them, half of whom were named Catherine, which must have made it a lot easier for him, I’m sure. Five of those six wives came and went within a single 10-year period in his life, but not all of those breakups were friendly. After having his first marriage annulled in 1533 and sparking the English Reformation and the country’s separation from the Catholic church, Henry married the sister of a former lover, a women named Anne Boleyn. Three years later, he had her executed for treason and adultery, but also possibly for failing to deliver a male heir.

The day after Anne’s beheading, Henry proposed to one of her ladies in waiting, Jane Seymour. They had apparently fallen in love months before, but Jane had managed to hold off Henry’s advances in the name of honour. Once the queen was dead, though, she was much more agreeable. They were married 10 days later. From everything I can tell, Henry believed that Jane Seymour was “the one” – he viewed her as his perfect queen, and when she gave birth to his first male heir a year later, he probably sighed with relief. The complications from the birth put her life at risk, and over the two weeks that followed she slowly declined. In October of 1537, Jane Seymour passed away. That had taken place at Hampton Court Palace, Henry’s favourite London residence. It was a mixture of a pleasure palace, a theatre and a royal home, so when Henry brought his next two wives through those doors over the next few years, they were probably bittersweet moments. A lot of joy would be possible there, but it would also sit in the shadows of a painful past. His fifth wife, Catherine Howard, made a fool of the king by conducting at least one less-than-secret affair. After learning about what she had done, Henry had Catherine arrested and thrown in a prison cell there, at the house. She was only 18 at the time, and I can’t imagine the fear and desperation she must have felt, being a prisoner of the most powerful man in the kingdom.

According to the stories, though, Catherine managed to slip away from her guards one day, while being walked through the palace. She bolted away and ran down one of the long galleries that led to the king’s chapel, where she knew Henry could be found. Her goal was probably to beg for forgiveness, to ask for mercy and to plead for her life. But the guards caught up to her before that could happen, and her screams of terror were the only thing to reach him. Catherine Howard was beheaded a short while later, and Henry moved onto a new wife, also named Catherine. But just because those former wives were gone, doesn’t mean they were forgotten. In fact, if the stories are true, they might have stuck around to serve as a cruel reminder. It’s said that even today, visitors to that long gallery in the palace have heard echoes of a woman screaming, a desperate, panicked cry that chills them to the bones. Others have heard the quick rhythm of footsteps, as if someone were running down the hallway. And in 1999, according to one source, two different tourists fainted in the gallery at different times on the very same day.

Elsewhere in Hampton Court Palace, other shadows have stuck around as well. In a room at the top of the staircase known as Silver Stick Stairs, multiple visitors have claimed to have seen the figure of a pale women. She stands silently, hovering slightly above the floor, with a mournful expression and vacant eyes. For those who have witnessed it, the spectre has been both calming and terrifying. Whether or not the visions are real, though, it’s fascinating to look at the true history of that room, because while it has been used for countless purposes over the last few centuries, one specific resident stands out above all the others. It was in this room, you see, that Henry VIII’s only male heir was born to his true love, Jane Seymour, and it was there, just two weeks later, that she passed away.

The old home, located on Berkeley Square, is a townhouse, just one of many in a long row of similar facades, but as far back as the mid-19th century, it was different enough to stand out from all the others. But before I continue with the legends, let me be clear that not a lot is known about the house’s origins, and a lot of stories have yet to be completely verified. Still, we know enough to make this a journey worth taking – so let’s get started. The majority of the tales begin with the man who owned the house back in the 1860s. Thomas Myers wasn’t the first to live there, but he was certainly the most infamous. It’s said that he had once been engaged to be married, but his fiancée eventually changed her mind and ended their relationship. Broken and distraught, he retreated into his house and was rarely ever seen again. Neighbours claim that the house would be dead during the day, only to come alive at night. It was as if Thomas had traded in the sunlight for the shadows, living the rest of his life during those moments when most of the world was asleep, and it might very well be whispers of the house all lit up at night that first gave birth to the rumour that it was haunted – but it could also have been what happened next.

Sometime around 1872, the house sold to a new family, and they moved in to clean up the home and make it their own. The couple had two daughters, both in their late teens, and there were precious few years left for the parents to enjoy life as a family in this new setting before they became empty-nesters. In the weeks that followed, though, the future crept in. The oldest of the two daughters became engaged to a young officer named Captain Kentfield, and conversation became filled with talk of wedding plans and guests lists. And at some point in their engagement, Captain Kentfield planned a visit, so the family set about preparing the attic bedroom for his arrival. According to the story, what happened next is still shrouded in mystery. The family maid was sent up to put the final touches on the fiancé’s room, and while she was up there, the family heard her scream. At once, everyone in the house rushed upstairs to see what had happened, only to find her lying on the floor, an expression of complete horror painted across her face. More mysterious yet was that she couldn’t seem to put a complete sentence together and was unable to answer any of the questions the family asked her. All the maid was able to do was mutter a low, cryptic refrain. “Don’t let it touch me. Don’t let it touch me”.

The maid was immediately taken to the hospital to recover, where I imagine someone observed her, and did their best to treat her rattled nerves, but other than that, there was little they could do. Sleep, they assumed, would be the best medicine. The following morning, though, she was found dead in her room. The fiancé arrived the next day, and after hearing the stories of the maid’s unexpected death, he decided to check the room out for himself. Maybe he was playing the brave soldier in front of his future in-laws in an effort to impress them, or perhaps his fiancée needed some reassurance and he wanted to calm her nerves. Whatever the reason, he climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom and declared that he would keep watch throughout the night. In the darkest hours of the morning, though, a gunshot pulled everyone from sleep, their hearts racing at the sound of it. Everyone climbed out of bed, threw on their night coats, and then rushed up to see what had happened. What they found, according to the legend, was the young captain, dead on the floor of his room, a victim of his own pistol.

In 1907, author Charles Harper wrote about the house in a book, and it was there that he declared it to be “the very picture of misery”. After the events that were said to have taken place there, it’s easy to wonder if the misery was in the structure or the lives who lived there. Either way, the stories we’ve heard so far shed a bright light on one more tale that Harper added to the legend. According to him, the next family to own the house moved in fully aware of the tragedies of the past. The owner was an older gentleman, who was said to be practical and not prone to stories of the supernatural. Still, he understood the power of suggestion a creepy old house with a dark past might have over him, so he set some rules for everyone to follow. After settling in with his family, he told them all that he would ring his bell to tell them if he ever truly needed help. If it was a moment of fright, he would only ring it once, which they were all instructed to ignore, but if matters were more pressing and he truly needed help, he would ring it twice, a signal that they were to immediately come to his room.

Everyone went to bed at the end of the evening, and while the night began peacefully, the quiet was broken around midnight by the loud chime of the old man’s bell, not once, but twice, which sent everyone rushing to see what might be the matter. What they found, though, weren’t answers. The old man was writhing in his bed, his face twisted by panic and fear. Just like the housemaid all those years before, he too couldn’t answer the questions that the others around him asked. He could only mutter and shake with horror at something no one else could see. After doing their best to help him, they calmed him enough to let him sleep, and everyone wandered back to their own rooms. They left his bell on the table beside his bed, hoping that he would remember how to use it if he needed them, but the remainder of the night was one, long stretch of unbroken silence. In the morning, they discovered why. After visiting the old man’s bedroom to check on him, one of his family members gently pushed the door open and peered inside. The shape in the bed was unmoving, and so they approached to wake him and see how he felt. But like those in the house before him, he too had passed away. A random coincidence of natural causes, or a demonstration of the power of fear?

There’s a lot about London that seems to echo the atmosphere of the house at 50 Berkeley Square. It’s a city painted in shadows, but it’s unclear if that darkness was always there, or if we imported it over the centuries. What’s clear is that almost from the start, tragedy and suffering has been a resident of this ancient city. Right back to the invasion of Boudica, nearly 2000 years ago, and up to its most modern challenges, the city of London has had to suffer through quite a bit, and that has a way of leaving a mark. Over the centuries, though, the city has always found ways to move on. New layers are added all the time, building the present on top of the past and slowly burying one dark moment beneath another – which is probably why London is one of those places where new construction always seems to bump into ancient things. If you dig deep enough, you’re guaranteed to find something. And look – London is a massive city, and while I did my best to cover some of its larger and more powerful stories, there are hundreds more that I had to leave untouched. Honestly, if you want to visit a haunted location in the city, just visit a local pub, like the Ten Bells, or the Flask, or the Spaniard Inn. If the stories are true, you’ll find a lot more than a pint of ale waiting for you inside.

But if there’s one mark on the pages of London’s history that is bigger than most, it’s hard to deny the power of the plague. If you remember, when the wave of disease washed over the city in 1665, it took two years to run its course, and in the process, it claimed the lives of nearly 100,000 people, and that was a lot of tragedy to deal with – on the personal and the public level. The biggest problem seemed to be what to do with all those corpses. We’ve all seen films like Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and can all remember lines like “bring out your dead”, and from what we can tell, that’s pretty close to how it actually would have been, a steady, daily flow of bodies out of the city, away from the places where people lived in the hope that it would stop the spread of the disease. And most of the bodies were carried outside the city limits. One such burial location was started by the Earl of Craven, who purchased a parcel of land west of the city for disposal of plague victims, and every night, for months on end, carts filled with rotting corpses were wheeled out onto his land and then dumped into the pits there. Over time, the place became known as the “Pest House Field,” and later it was named Gelding Close, but to be honest, few people actually went there. They were too afraid of what might happen if they got too close to the body of a plague victim or, heaven forbid, accidentally touch one. So, the burial plot, like so many others around the city, became a sort of no man’s land.

After years of waiting, the owners of the land eventually made the decision to use the property for development. London was growing, and there would always be a need for a new neighbourhood to settle in, so it was sold in pieces and developed into homes for the wealthy and elite to move away from the centre of the city. Gelding Close eventually became known as Golden Square, and today it’s a prominent feature in the SoHo area of London. But even though the name has changed and the landscape around it has been transformed, the past is still there, lingering in the shadows of modern life. In fact, more than a few visitors to the park and buildings that surround it have bumped into the past in a very real way. A few have seen the figures of people dressed in old-fashioned clothing slipping through the square at night, while most have caught the sound of wailing, as if someone were enduring horrible pain and suffering. But it’s not the specific things people have heard over the years that are the most terrifying aspect to these stories. No, it’s where they all claim the voices have come from. The sounds, they say, seem to emanate from right beneath their feet.

A city as old and historic as London is guaranteed to have a library of mysterious shadows and otherworldly experiences and I hope today’s tour has been a satisfying dip into that enormous pond, but I’m not done just yet. There’s one more legend from the city that I absolutely love, and if you stick around through the sponsor break, I plan to tell you all about it.

[Sponsor break from the Great Courses Plus, Squarespace and Fracture]

When you think of London, it’s easy to think of money. As far back as the Roman period of the city, there has been an overt focus on the financial industry. In about 240AD, for example, the Romans constructed a mithraeum, a temple devoted to the god Mithras. Some of the most common members of the cult of Mithras were merchants, traders, customs officials and politicians, all professions that revolved around the flow of money. But it didn’t end with the Romans. As the centuries ticked by, the people of London found new and better ways to manage money and build the economy. In the year 1100, King Henry I instituted a new system of currency that even the most illiterate and uneducated citizens of his kingdom could understand: the tally stick. It was essentially a polished wooden rod that had nicks carved into it to denote its value, and it was then split down the middle. The king kept one half, while the other was put into circulation in places like the city markets, and that’s where the system really shined. If anyone tried to change the value of the public half by adding another nick, they just needed to be compared to the other half kept safe by the crown.

But at the end of the 17th century, one of the biggest changes to the financial world of London was born: The Bank of England. It was created in 1694 to solve a tricky financial problem the government of England faced. They needed to build a massive navy to defend themselves but lacked the funds to do it. So, an elaborate system of lending and currency came to the rescue. A century later, The Bank of England was simply a way of life for the people of London. It had all the prestige and power that you might expect from a government-backed bank and had established a reputation for itself that has carried into the 21st century.

But I don’t want to give you a tour of the bank’s full history, I just want to tell you about one of their employees, a man named Philip Whitehead. Whitehead worked in the cashier’s office of The Bank of England in 1811. Everyone around him viewed him as a pillar of the establishment, a hard-working, respectable man who was charming and delightful with staff and customers alike. Except that’s not all he was. Philip was also a criminal. It turns out he had been forging bank documents for months, cheating the bank out of a slow trickle of money, and at some point in 1911, his misdeeds were discovered, and he was quickly arrested and sent off to prison. A few months later, in early 1812, Philip Whitehead hanged for his crimes, and the bank moved on.

Several weeks after Philip’s hanging, though, a woman came into the bank asking for him. She said her name was Sarah, but when she asked to speak with Philip Whitehead, she was simply told that he was out of the office on a business errand. The woman left disappointed but promised to be back at another time. The next time that she returned, he not only told them that her name was Sarah, but that she was Philip’s sister. She told them of how she had lost touch with her brother many months earlier, and that she had been desperate to find a way to reach him, and at some point, her story must have plucked at the heartstrings of just the right bank employee, because one of the men took her aside and told her the truth. Her brother was dead. It wouldn’t be Sarah’s last visit to the bank, though. The next time she returned, she was dressed all in black, with a black veil that covered her face.

She stepped into the lobby of the bank and asked to see her brother. Taking pity on the poor woman, and official at the bank pulled her aside, apologised for keeping his imprisonment and execution a secret, and offered a small settlement. It was a pay-off, of course, designed to keep her from disturbing the other customers, but I’m sure he sold it to her more as a salve for her aching heart. Either way, she accepted the money and then left. But she returned a few days later. Over and over again, Sarah Whitehead visited the bank, each time dressed in that black gown and veil. At first, her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but with each new visit her question became louder and more aggressive – “Where is my brother?” she continued to ask. Each of those visits ended with another small payment from the bank, but they weren’t a charity house, and eventually decided that enough was enough.

Pulling her aside one day, they handed her a massive settlement and told her never to return, and to her credit, Sarah Whitehead listened. She never again set foot inside the bank, although it’s said that she also never wore anything else but that black gown and dark veil. We don’t know how long Sarah lived after that – sometimes grief has a way of speeding up a person’s decline, while other times it seems to give them a reason to go on. But decades later, Sarah passed away, having spent the remainder of her life in a constant state of mourning for her dead brother. Legend says that the churchyard she chose for her burial was the one right next door to the bank. Maybe she wanted to keep an eye on them from the other world, or perhaps it just happened to be where she attended church. I like to think that it was the former, and that those that still worked at the bank and knew her story were aware of where she was buried. It’s very poetic, whether or not it was actually true.

But her story doesn’t end there, of course. In the years following Sarah Whitehead’s death, employees inside the bank began to report seeing strange things. Oftentimes it was nothing more than a movement, just out of their field of vision, caught in the corner of their eye but never there when they turned their head. Other times, it was the fleeting vision of something black and shadowy. Many who have worked in the bank claim that certain areas give them a feeling of hopelessness and despair, and on rare occasions some claim that a mysterious shape has even materialised right before their eyes. All of them have described it in the same way, too, giving the old stories new life as the decades have passed by. They say the shape is that of a woman. Each time she appears, her pale skin is framed by a dress as black as coal, the veil that had once covered her face pulled back to revealed twisted lips, red cheeks and eyes that seem to glow like fire. But it’s the words she speaks that frighten people the most. After locking eyes with them and washing them in a wave of terror, the women in black repeats the same words she had grown so accustomed to in life. “Where,” she asks them, “is my brother?”

[Closing Statements]

#lore podcast #aaron mahnke #podcast transcripts #london #50 berkeley square #henry viii #uk #hauntings #transcripts #129

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penprp · 5 years

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On P5/DCMK...

I saw a very interesting post earlier that compared P5 and Detective Conan/Magic Kaito, drawing parallels between Hakuba and Kasumi, and between Akechi and Shinichi. (Not reblogging because the OP does not need my word vomit clogging up their dash.) I’m going to have to say that honestly, I see it the other way around-- Akechi is Hakuba and Kasumi is Shinichi. I suspect the OP has seen a bit more of the Royal trailers than I have, of course… but I’m gonna do a bit of a deep dive into Hakuba and Shinichi’s character evolutions first, and then explain the way I see the correspondence. I know the OP was focusing almost totally on their relationships to Joker... but I’m going to nerd out a bit further.

Okay, so it all starts back in the late 80’s with the manga Magic Kaito. Aoyama’s first manga series, if you can believe that. Magic Kaito introduces us to Kuroba Kaito, teenage magician, prankster, and occasional pervert. (It was manga in ‘87, that was practically required.) He slapsticks his way through a school day, and then discovers that his father, long dead in an accident, was the legendary thief Kaitou Kid! But Kaitou Kid is holding a heist tonight! Kaito crashes, dressed in his dad’s old costume and learns that his father’s accident was actually murder, and swears to bring the culprits to justice. So right away, we’ve got the tone set-- a lot of slapstick and silly humor, with the occasional dramatic suckerpunch hitting when you don’t so much expect it.

That goes on for two volumes, with mostly silly stories about Kid escaping an army of robot surveillance cameras, Kid helping a little boy deal with bullies, Kid dealing with an honest-to-god witch who’s attempting to put him under her spell, Kaito and Aoko hunting ghosts that turn out to be a teacher trying to hide his research into hair growth formula… you get the idea. Then in 88, Kid went on hiatus, as Aoyama had moved onto his next manga, Yaiba!

Then we hit 1994. Yaiba has just ended, as has a short baseball-themed series called Yoban Saado, and so Aoyama comes back to Kid. His drawing style has evolved and so has his storytelling-- seven years of continuous work will do that to you. There’s still a lot of slapstick and silliness, but the drama has tightened up its act and is now setting snares for you instead of just punching you and running off laughing. It’s in this period of time that we meet Hakuba Saguru.

I should pause at this moment to say that Aoyama Gosho has some of the strongest special interests I have ever seen in a mangaka. The man loves Sherlock Holmes, Arsene Lupin, stage magic, and baseball, not necessarily in that order. He also loves working in a semi-unified world. Yaiba ended with a character announcing that “Kuroba and Nakamori,” IE, Kaito and his best friend Aoko, were finally going out. The new volume has a chapter in which Kid goes up against Yaiba in one of the most ridiculously slapstick things the series has done at this point. Remember this for later.

So into this mess comes Hakuba Saguru, transfer student. Hakuba’s role, as suits the slightly more focused and dramatic tone of the series in this volume, is to be an antagonist slightly more competent than Nakamori. His initals make him a reference to Herlock Sholmes, but as he’s half-British, reading his name in the Western fashion does evoke Sherlock Holmes. Really, at this point, Saguru is not narratively one particular reference as he is The Detective-As-Antagonist. He’s handsome, smug, confident, charming, brilliant, and basically a rival to Kaito in every arena, from school to romance to their nightly activities. His very first appearance has him ignoring the trick that the rest of the police fall for, forcing Kid to step up his game. Not long after that, he actually manages to realize that Kuroba Kaito is Kaitou Kid, and comes up with a clever plan to prove it. Unfortunately, he’s still in the Magic Kaito manga, and thus is thwarted by a witch riding in on her broom. (It makes sense in context.)

It’s towards the end of this volume that Kid learns of the gem Pandora, the reason his father was murdered, and vows to find the gem himself and destroy it. At this point, Kid switches from stealing various interesting baubles to targeting gems and only gems.

… And cue Detective Conan, which has been running for, as of this writing, twenty-five years. (Dear God.) This introduces us to Kudou Shinichi, detective and Sherlock Holmes otaku extraordinaire. One of the first things we learn about Shinichi is that he is incredibly privileged. (He’s also a huge dork, but I digress.) He’s handsome. He’s rich. His parents love him, but they’re out of the country, leaving him to live on his own with a ridiculous degree of freedom. He has cases to stimulate him. He’s a brilliant detective whom the police and media adore. The kids at school love him, though none can really be considered his friends except Mouri Ran, his best friend. Shinichi’s biggest problem in life is that Ran has a nasty habit of cracking concrete with her fists when he says something insensitive. Later flashbacks and retcons tell us that Shinichi, while he can be hugely thoughtless, is nevertheless instantly ready to throw all of that power and privilege behind protecting the weak and the innocent. He’s just… better with victims and witnesses than he is with normal social interaction.

Contrast this with Hakuba, who while, yes, he’s rich and charming and his father has enormous social and political pull as the Superintendent of the police... he’s still half-white. And thus will always be, on some level, an outsider. Neither manga does a lot with this, but it is still there.

Then he witnesses a drug deal, gets shrunk into an elementary-schooler, and it all goes down the tubes. Shinichi starts off as being very much like Hakuba-- or rather, Hakuba was a sort of proto-Shinichi. But Shinichi has twenty-five years of appearances and is the protagonist, so he gets the kind of character development Hakuba could only dream of. Shinichi loses almost everything and has to build it anew, without the privilege he had to begin with. In the process, he grows and changes, becoming more thoughtful and more appreciative, with less smugness and ego.

Into this world, Gosho decides to do one of his usual things, and drop Kaitou Kid in for a story. Holmes vs. Lupin, it’ll be fun, right? The fans ate it up, and so Kid became a regular guest star. After that, when doing Sunset Mansion, a story loosely based on Young Kindaichi’s “House of Wax” story, which involves a detective gathering, Hakuba Saguru was a natural choice. And here we come to one of Hakuba’s issues as a character.

It’s now the year 2000. Detective Conan, always more serious in tone than Magic Kaito, given the rampant murders, has progressed in the past six years. The art is better, the storytelling is more dramatic… And Hakuba’s previous narrative slot has been filled by Shinichi. What does Gosho do with him? I think a lot of the characterization that follows was Gosho trying to get a handle on who Hakuba IS, in a world where all the characters he played off of have changed so dramatically. In Sunset Mansion, he acts more like James Bond than either Herlock Sholmes or Sherlock Holmes. He’s handsome, charming, and dangerous, and while he’s not convinced of Kid’s essential benevolence, he is adamant that Kid is no killer.

Fast-forward to 2006. Hakuba shows up again for the Tantei Koshien, a detective competition that seems designed to play up the differences between Hakuba and Hattori Heiji, Conan’s best friend and fellow detective. This is quite possibly the most characterization Hakuba gets, and he’s… not shown in a great light. He’s scornful of Heiji’s impulsive nature and rash action, and lets his focus on thefts and frauds mislead him into identifying the wrong culprit. He takes his correction rather graciously, but hasn’t appeared in Detective Conan since.

And now it’s 2007. Kid is rabidly popular, enough that Gosho puts out another volume’s worth of Kaitou Kid chapters. Now that we’re back behind Kaito’s eyes, we see a combination of the goofy prankster in the earliest chapters and the smooth gentleman thief we’ve come to know in Conan’s tales. These stories are more tightly plotted, with more danger and escapes, the magic tricks used to set up a central “howdunit” for the chapter, and there’s a bit more character development. Kid also evinces more detective skills, as there’s often a mystery for him to get to the bottom of, as well as his own tricks for others to decipher. Hakuba makes a guest appearance, calling Kaito to give him information when he’s going head to head with another kaitou over a rare gem, and then shows up when Kid is threatened by a murderous thief named Nightmare. At the end of this case, he agrees with Kid in deliberately hiding the truth of Nightmare’s identity, as the man is dead and the truth would only hurt his family now.

Hakuba is still charming, flirty, and confident, and to be honest, still kind of smug. But now he’s being shown as someone capable of empathy, not a detective concerned only with the law, or even the truth. He’s come to understand that justice requires mercy. But we don’t get to see any of this happen, and he’s still only in a few pages in two stories out of five.

Hakuba and Shinichi both have complicated relationships with Kid that can’t be boiled down to “rival” and “enemy” quite so easily. The biggest difference, in my opinion, is that Hakuba is chasing Kid to catch and stop him, while Shinichi really sees Kid heists as a chance to match wits with an intellectual equal. Hakuba is concerned with Kid’s breaking the law, while Shinichi seems to consider that mostly a non-issue, being focused more on beating Kid as almost a matter of pride. He’ll give it back and nobody died, no big deal. … That said, Hakuba’s characterization in spinoffs such as the Magic Kaito specials is leaning a bit more towards actual rivalry, but that’s because in that continuity, he has bigger spiders to fry.

So why did I go into all that? We don’t know much about Kasumi, but we know a lot about Akechi, so I’m going to start with him. Visually, he resembles Hakuba much more than Shinichi, with the perfectly pressed appearance, light hair, and visually adult fashion choices. He’s a media darling, and is incredibly charming. Beyond that, in all his interactions with the Phantom Thieves before his reveal, he is apart from them, even when assisting them. His outfit is brilliant white and gold, rather than the blacks and reds of most of the team. He even tells them that while he will help them clear their name of murder, they have to stop thieving. This is all very Hakuba. Of course, it’s all a mask, but even so… he wants to stop the Phantom Thieves. He’s tied into the forces of law and order, both in his mask persona and as Yaldabaoth’s pawn. (Law and Order being two different forces here… although maybe not so different as they seem.) He’s strongly drawn to Joker and winds up helping him, despite what his position and duties would suggest.

Kasumi is… well, we don’t really know. Visually, however, as a thief, she strongly resembles Joker. We’ve seen that she seems to act as a Phantom Thief, even if she’s quoted as saying that she doesn’t believe in their justice. (“Thieves are boring,” Conan scoffs, right before meeting a nutter in a white top hat.) A lot of her visual shots are set up to suggest a strong parallel between her and Joker, and there’s a possibility of her being yet another Wild Card. Kaito and Shinichi are canonically said to resemble each other strongly, and while this is probably partially Gosho making fun of the fact that all his hot teenage boys look alike… he’s said there is a deeper reason for it.

This is all speculation, of course. We won’t really know until the game comes out. (Can we get a Switch port Atlus? Please?)

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bookcrook · 5 years

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Absolutely Smitten

Dang. I really suck at keeping my word, don’t I? Whelp, for those who care, it’s here now! This is the first of I don’t know how many parts of “Six Foot Seven”, a new series/book thing I’ve been working on lately, requested by @i-cant-reach-im-too-short! The entirety of the series will be based on her real-life love story, as well as a playlist she gave me. First song was Absolutely Smitten by Dodie Clark. Hope you all enjoy! :)

“Teddy, come eat!” I call out from the kitchen, rattling his food around the large metal bowl. I wait a few minutes before yelling out his name again. “Teddy! Teddy Bear! C’mon! I have to leave soon and you need to eat.” Still no response.

And so begins my daily game of “Find the Giant Dog Hiding in my Tiny Apartment and Hope He Didn’t Run Off and Start the Zombie Apocalypse Without Me”. Such a great way to start my day…

I search behind couches and loveseats, inside closets and my bathroom only to find absolutely nothing. “Where, oh where has my Teddy gone, oh where, oh where could he be,” I sing softly under my breath, “In the closet he’s not, with me he’s… Also not, oh where, oh where could he be.” I continue with my non-rhyming song, raising my volume a little as I get closer and closer to my bedroom, the only other place he could be hiding.

When I finally reach the doorway, I hear a playful bark come out from beneath my bed. I lower myself down to my knees, pull up the flashlight on my phone, and put my right cheek against the carpet. And, sure enough, I’m staring into the eyes of my slightly-obnoxious-but-still-very-lovable German Shepard. Who also just so happens to be stuck underneath the bed I just got.

How he got there is beyond me and getting him out is going to be a serious victory on my end. As in, the kind of victory that deserves a pint and a half of double chocolate chip ice cream and a box of Cheez-Its after work. I try coaxing him out, seeing if he can squeeze himself just enough to remove himself from the tight spot. I bribe him with treats and squeaky toys, but he doesn’t move a muscle. So, I move on to what I knew was, ultimately, inevitable and would no doubt break all of my limbs off of my body.

Have you ever seen a 5’2 Asian girl trying to lift up a Queen size metal bed frame (with the mattress on top of it because she had just woken up half an hour ago and was still extremely tired, so she wasn’t smart enough to take it off) at least a foot off the ground completely and utterly by herself? I haven’t, but God damn it must be hilarious to look at. Actually doing it, though? Terrible. Absolutely horrid. The worst thing I’ve ever done in my 22 years of living. I mean, seriously. What is this thing made out of? Steel with a brick-filled mattress? Ridiculousness, I tell you!

Twenty minutes later, Teddy is roaming free around our brand new home while I’m lying on my bedroom floor exhausted and trying to find a will to live, which immediately comes with an alarm going off on my phone. Who would’ve thought I’d be so ecstatic to leave the comfort of my apartment for an entire day of work behind a desk only running on four hours of sleep. I force myself up and attempt to wipe as much dog hair off of my once clean clothes, abandoning hope soon after---there’s just no escaping it.

Collecting my things, I make my way toward the door, glancing quickly at the clock on my stove. Right on time, I think to myself. Waiting for the elevator was maddening. Come on...

I mash the button impatiently, muttering curse words under my breath in frustration. I do the same when the doors finally slide open, revealing a small family of three with a tiny puppy on a leash. The slow background music only fueled my anxiety.

Before the doors are even wide enough to accommodate an entire person, I slip through the tiny gap and race outside. I flatten my hair and my eyes immediately dart to the left, finding exactly what---or, more specifically, who---I was looking for walking toward me.

“Holy shit,” I murmur softly. How is it possible for one person to look so amazing just walking down the street? I soon realize I’m staring like a literal stalker, so before I’m caught, I turn and start walking swiftly in the same direction he’s going.

“Megan!” I hear a familiar, deep voice call from behind me, “Wait up!”

“Not a chance! I’d say you’ve got long enough legs to catch up to me,” I respond, an air of fake confidence in my voice. I slow down only slightly, despite my original statement, and, sure enough, Owen manages to reach me in a few long strides.

“You’re difficult, you know that?” he laughs softly. I pray that no one saw my insides turn into literal jelly. What am I even supposed to do? My legs keep moving, but my mind is such a jumbled mush that it can’t comprehend anything around me. Which shouldn’t be happening. I’m a strong, independent woman---I don’t need him telling me if I’m pretty or not. I don’t.

So, as we walk, I begin concentrating on not concentrating on him. I quickly find that doing so is no use to me and caused me to not hear a single word Owen just spoke.

“You still there, shorty?” he teases, poking the top of my head.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah! Sorry. Just a little out of it, I guess.” Which was true, to be fair---I just decided it would be better to give him only half of the truth, for my heart’s sake. “What’d you say?”

Owen’s shoulder bumps into mine slightly, “I asked if you were eating in the office today. Thought I’d join you, but it looks as though you’re empty-handed.”

I stop in my tracks as he finishes speaking. “Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot,” I whisper to myself, hoping he doesn’t hear me. Because my luck is shit today, he does, and he seems to believe I was talking to him.

“Excuse me?” Owen laughs nervously, surprised by my comment.

“No!” I exclaim a little too loudly, “Not you! I was talking to myself. Didn’t realize it until you mentioned it, but I forgot my food at home; it’s been a crazy morning, so I didn’t really think about grabbing to before I left.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing important, really. Just stuff with my dog…” I wanted to add ‘and you’, but it seems a bit… Forward. Creepy. Stalker-ish. Take your pick. “Made some grilled chicken, noodles, and asparagus last night, too. Looks like it’s the vending machine for me today! Yay.”

“I mean, you don’t have to…” Owen looks away slightly as his sentence trails off.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Unless you’re suggesting that I turn back and risk being late just for a bag of mediocre food, I’m afraid I do.”

“Fair point, but no. ‘Tis not what I mean by that, miss,” he taunts, putting on one of the worst fake British accents I’ve ever heard. It’s something he does often. Why? No clue---not even an inkling of an idea, but it makes my heart melt every time.

“Then what do you have in mind?”

“We could always go out to lunch. There’s this cafe-diner-thing a block or two down from the office that serve the best grilled cheese known to man. If you haven’t tried don’t think I won’t drag you there myself,” Owen laughs. I can feel my eyes light up at the prospect of that. “It can be a group thing or something.”

My shoulders deflate just a tiny bit. I knew it wasn’t going to be a date---I’m not that stupid, but I hoped it could at least be just the two of us. It’s okay, I think to myself, taking in a deep breath, It doesn’t matter. We’re just friends. I force a smile before agreeing. “Oh, yeah. Totally! Sounds great. I can see if Laura and Chelsea want to come.”

We’d finally reached our destination when the conversation began and are now parting ways as it ends. “Awesome! See you then?”

“Definitely,” I say softly. Despite my disappointment, I’m able to produce a small---but very genuine---smile.

I’m practically floating as I make my way to my tiny desk and collapse onto my rolling chair. Slumped completely down (in a way that is terrible for my back), I let out a startled screech as a voice, seemingly coming from nowhere, scares me senseless.

“You’re late,” Chelsea teases in a sing-song tone from above me.

“...No I’m not.” I point at the large clock across the room.

“How…” she stumbles over words, “How do you know I didn’t come in early and change the time on all of the clocks because... Pranks?”

“Chels, you’re still wearing your coat.”

“It’s cold.”

“How about the fact that, one, your coffee is still steaming and you refuse to drink the tar that they have here. Two, you don’t wake up any earlier than you absolutely have to because you’re the definition of a night owl. Or, and I’d say this is my most convincing argument, three, you just don’t care enough to do that.” I sit up as I rest my case and begin pulling out my things for the day.

“You’re no fun,” Chelsea pouts, lowering herself behind the cork board wall that separates us.

Ignoring her very hurtful words, I continue the conversation as though nothing happened, “Has Laura come in yet?”

She scoots her chair over to your side as she answers, “I don’t think so. Or if she has I haven’t seen her. Why?”

I let out a groan and drop my head onto my desk, smashing the keys on my laptop. “Great. I needed her to help me make some copies because I have to meet with some clients later today and I have no clue how to work that… Thing.”

Chelsea opens her mouth, prepared to offer help, but I cut her off before she can, “Don’t. I love you, but she’s the only one who can tame the beast. I swear that if anyone looked at it the wrong way it would set the entire building on fire. Especially if it were either of us.”

“That’s fair,” she relinquishes. Suddenly, a tornado in human form tears through the office dropping a pile of things on Laura’s desk and races into a conference room, all in a matter of .04357 milliseconds.

“She’s here,” I chuckle slightly.

Twenty minutes later, Laura races back into the room and all but sprints to her desk. Thinking she might actually be done in there, I try to ask for her help. And, before I’m ever able to finish saying her name, she explains, “Can’t talk right now. Still doing the presentation; just forget some papers.”

Not long after that, Laura is finally free and snatches my papers from my desk, taking them to that dreaded machine and returning with 15 more than I need.

“Sorry about the extras,” she sighs as she drops them in my lap, “There was an error with the copier, but at least you have those if you need them.”

“Thank you!” I exclaim in a hushed voice, “You are a life saver, I swear!”

“Are you just now figuring that out?” Laura laughs.

I stick my tongue out at her before continuing my work.

I later feel a light tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I find Owen standing there, a large stack of papers in his hand. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I was just on my way to steal Anthony’s copier, but I thought I’d let you know that James, Benny, and the others can’t make it to lunch. Any luck with you?”

Before I can even consider speaking, Laura immediately turned the focus of the conversation to Anthony. “Wait. Wait just a second. Anthony’s been hiding a perfectly working copier from us?!”

“Guess so.” Owen gives a small shrug.

“What the hell!” she exclaims angrily.

To avoid the situation from escalating, I direct us back to our original topic. “I completely forgot to ask about lunch. Umm… Chels, Laura, either of you doing anything for lunch? I forgot my food this morning, so we thought it’d be a fun idea to get a little group together to go out.” My friends share a conspiratorial look when I’m finished.

Chelsea’s the first to respond. “I really wish I could, but,” she pauses, “I have to run home and feed Pepper. Planned on just stopping by McDonald’s or something on my way back.”

“Neither can I,” Laura sighs with an ingenuine sadness in her voice, “Thomas wanted to take me out at that new sushi place across town. Sorry. Hope you guys have fun.”

A smile twitching on his lips, Owen turns back to me. “Just the two of us, then.”

“Yep,” I mumble quietly, my face growing warmer by the second.

“See you in a bit?”

“Yep,” I repeat myself. His smile was now a grin as he left. Once he’s gone, I snap my eyes back to the two girls, glaring.

“What the fuck was that about?! First of all, you,” I point at Chelsea’s floating head, “Don’t a cat. Or a dog. Or any kind of pet! As for you, Laura. Don’t think I don’t know that Thomas won’t be home for another week. That’s all you’ve been talking about since he left!”

“It’s a week and three days,” she corrects me.

“Exactly my point!”

“Sorry, but we had to!” Chelsea cuts in, “You’ve had one of Cupid’s little arrows stuck in your ass since you started working here two years ago!”

“Not to mention the fact that this is probably the happiest we’ve seen you since your sister made you move out all because what’s-his-name told her to,” Laura adds.

I sigh, sinking into my chair for the second time today. “I know you guys are just trying to be nice. And, you’re right; I have been. He just makes me feel all kinds of weird inside. It’s like I can’t control anything when I’m around him, but that doesn’t mean I need your help with him.”

Laura scoffs and Chelsea rolls her eyes at my obvious lie. “Okay. Fine, I do. But don’t do it so obviously next time!”

My personal matchmakers lower themselves back down and I spin back to my computer. Just another hour to go…

🔹🔹🔹🔹

Lunch seemed to fly by quickly. As we waited on our food, conversations were had about simple, silly things like our favorite color, or how we drink our coffee. Others were about how work had been going and what movies we’d watched recently.

“Okay...” he pondered as he took a sip of his sweet tea, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” Shocked by the question, I couldn’t come up with an answer, so I gave him the most definite one that I could. Kind of.

“Probably anything but the Chuckie movies,” I laughed.

The moment that sentence left my mouth, he immediately corrected me. “It’s Child’s Play, you know?”

“What?”

“The movies.”

“Whatever it’s called, it scarred me for life, and I want absolutely nothing to do with it.” I crossed my arms and shuddered at the thought of even possibly watching it again. I knew it was a terrible movie, but that didn’t change anything.

The stroll back was uneventful, but peaceful. And, now, as we wait out the last couple minutes before we had to return to our respective desks, Owen and I have found ourselves walking slowly back to mine, trying to make our time together stretch as long as possible.

Suddenly, Owen grabs my arm gently, pulling me to a stop just a few feet short of my destination, and leans in. My breaths shorten and my body goes frigid as he does so.

His lips brush against my ear as he says softly, “Please don’t think I’m weird for doing this, but Laura and Chelsea have been eavesdropping since we were within listening distance. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out to dinner tonight? Or this weekend? Or just, at any point in time that would conveniently work for you?”

I let out a chuckle---no, a giggle---at his awkwardness, but then I’m immediately hit by butterflies flooding my stomach as I take in his words. Once I finally come to my senses, my head is frantically bobbing up in down in complete and utter agreement.

After we shared out little… Moment, I make my way to my desk. At this point, I’m not even trying to hide the giant grin on my face. Or my blushing cheeks. Or the fact that my heart is thudding in my chest with pure excitement and joy.

Chelsea and Laura don’t bother pretending that they didn’t see what just happened, and they were sure to let me know about that.

“Did you see the way he was looking at you?” Laura gushes, “And that smile?! What’d he say?”

“What are you even talking about? It was nothing,” I roll my eyes at the rambunctious, gossip-hungry pair, but tell them anyway. “He just asked if I wanted to go out for dinner sometime.”

“Nothing?” Chelsea practically yells, “Are you kidding? There’s no way he doesn’t like you!”

I roll my eyes yet again, knowing not to get my hopes up, but I can’t help but wonder. I’d like to believe I’m not completely clueless; it’s obvious he just asked me on a date, but will it actually go anywhere?

The days that followed were spent trying to coordinate Owen and I’s schedules on the way to work, and deciding where we could go. We also found ourselves around each other outside of work more than usual as we waited for the day to come.

One more week… That’s all I’ve gotta do; make it one more week and I’ll know for sure if this will work out.

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vozpit · 5 years

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How To Make a Bullshit Ghost Hunting Show

We all know that those ghost hunting shows are bullshit, right? Oh, you don't know... Hmmmmm. Well, maybe I can convince you that they are. In fact, maybe I can teach you how to fool others, just like every one of those shows does & make some money doing it to others. 16 simple rules you can use to "Make Your Own Bullshit Ghost Hunting Show".

1. Always shoot at night, in the dark, with night-vision cameras. The main thing you want to do when creating a ghost show is to scare people. Sure, you can hide behind the guise that you're doing it for scientific reasons to prove the existence of ghosts. But you know damn well the watchers are just looking to be scared. And how scary is it to shoot during daylight? So be sure to tell your audience that they say ghosts are more active during night time hours & in total darkness. This will give you the excuse of shooting in the dark with night-vision cameras, which will give you the spookiness you're looking for. And speaking of the people who tell you that ghosts are more active during night time hours.... 2. Always use "They" as explanations for everything. "They" say ghosts come out in the dark. "They" say an EMF detector can detect ghosts. "They" say you can record ghost voices on tape. "They" say ghosts use our energy to manifest themselves. And so on & so forth. Who are "They"? It can be anyone you want it to be, as long as you're passing along the idea that what you're doing is actually doing something. 3. Interview people before you hunt. Chances are if you interview people at a place that they think is haunted, they will have at least one ghostly experience to tell you about. Interview a bunch of people who live(d)/work(ed) there & you'll be loaded with an arsenal of ideas that you can use during your hunt. Listen to the story of how a woman was beaten & tortured & finally killed in a certain room & later, you'll catch an EVP (electronic voice phenomena) of a woman's voice or scream in the same room. And by catch, I mean fake. Listen to another person tell you of how they felt an unseen entity grab their arm & later, your arm gets "grabbed". So simple. The person you interview may also give you names of people who have died in the place, giving you a name that can magically appear on one of your EVP recordings. This also takes away the task of actually coming up with your own ghost or the embarrassment of coming up with a ghost of a person that never existed. 4. Give suggestions to the people you interview as well. This goes along with #3. While interviewing people, throw out suggestions to them like, "Were you ever hit with a thrown object?" or "Were you ever touched?" This actually gives suggestions to the people you're interviewing to make up stories of experiences, thus giving you more ideas for your "ghosts". 5. "Feel" the ghost's presence. Since the watcher cannot feel any of the energy or temperature changes that supposedly happen during ghost encounters, it's easy to just say you're feeling such things. "Whoah! Right here it's very cold! You know they say that when a ghost manifests, it gets very cold!" Yeah, throw in another "They" to make it sound more official. Well, as official as ghost hunting can be. It's also very simple to give someone a suggestion that an area has gotten cold. Sometimes ghost hunters will use this while interviewing the people mentioned in #3 & #4. I've actually done this myself during a visit to a "haunted" building during a ghost tour. I was in a group of about 20 people in a room, listening to the "psychic" tell us stories of the people who have died in the room & pointing towards a window I was sitting next to telling the room that people have actually seen a face at this window, even though we were on the second floor. After her bullsh...I mean stories, she asked the party to move into the next room. At this point, I started to pass my hand around the chair I was just sitting on. I said, "Wow! It's really cold here!" I pointed at a couple that were sitting on the other side of the window & said, "Feel this! Wow! It's cold!" They came over & started to pass their hands through the air above the chair. "Whoah! It is cold!" they both said. After a few seconds, I said to them. "Actually, I was just kidding. I wanted to show you the power of suggestion. I apologize if I offended you." And they said, "No, it really is cold here! Feel it!" I passed my hand through & there was no coldness. Yet, they felt it. 6. Get "feelings" or even "possessed". This goes along with #5, but instead of feeling a physical change, it's a psychological change. This may be the easiest way to fake a spirit. All it takes is a bit of acting. Walk into a room & suddenly feign a headache coming on. Crouch down & start to feel a great sadness overcome you or have a great anger come over you, causing you to punch the wall. Punching hard enough to draw blood is even better. This proves you weren't acting in your right mind, right? Some hunters will go as far as to become "possessed". This is a little harder & needs a little more studying up on the place you're hunting at & requires better acting skills. British "psychic" Derek Acorah was fairly good at being "possessed". The British "medium" would get possessed by a spirit almost every episode of the show "Most Haunted". And he would have gotten away with it, if not for the meddling show host Yvette Fielding & supposed parapsychologist Ciaran O'Keeffe. See Yvette & Derek started to hate each other. Yvette wanted Derek off the show. So what better way to do it, than to prove Derek a fake. So Ciaran set up the name of a supposed person who died in the place they were going to visit next. The name was "Kreed Kafer" an anagram of "faker Derek". And when Derek was "possessed" by this fake spirit, it sealed his fate & he left the show. This was genius on the part of Fielding, as proving fakes makes her fakes seem real. Which brings us to #7. 7. Sometimes, don't find anything. It's very simple. If you find something all the time, people will think you're faking it. I don't think there's an official ratio as to how many places are to be haunted as opposed to places not haunted. I would say it should be around 6 to 1. For every 6 haunted places, have 1 non-haunted place. This will make the situations where you "find" something seem more plausible. It also gives some validity to your "scientific" equipment. And that brings us to #8. 8. Use equipment not designed for ghost hunting to "prove" the existence of ghosts. EMF detectors are designed to find invisible electro-magnetic fields. Finding these fields is great for finding areas in a household where these fields can interfere with other electronic equipment. Everything gives off electro-magnetic fields. Some stronger than others. And these fields can fluctuate from strong to weak all the time. Nature itself gives off these fields. But explain to the audience that "They" say ghosts give off these fields & that nothing in the area of the place you're at can give off these fields, while holding $3000 worth of electronic equipment. Other pieces of equipment you can use are laser thermometers, because "They" say ghosts can lower temperatures, an infra-red or ultra-violet camera, because "They" say ghosts appear in these waves of the spectrum. Or a thermal camera, because "They" say that ghosts can appear as a different temperature in an area. Usually they appear warmer than the surrounding air. Shhhh, don't tell them they're supposed to be colder. Speaking of equipment... 9. Always use digital recording. The greatest recording medium for ghost hunting is digital. Why? Because it's compressed. Bring some real shitty black & white static cameras & record it on security camera quality recorders & you can catch all sorts of stuff. See, when you're recording in digital you get lovely changing pixels all over your screen, especially in the dark areas, but sometimes even the areas that are too bright. Perfect for ghost recordings. These areas are called artifacts. When using lower quality recordings, digital recorders can't process the darks, as they are called, and fill in these areas with what the processors think should appear there, using surrounding areas as reference. This cause all sorts of wonderful shapes & movements. All of which can be called ghosts, if you want. And if you want to have a successful bullshit ghost hunting show, you do. 10. "Suggest" what EVPs are saying by putting text on your screen. Speaking of recordings, ghost hunters like to use EVPs to prove the existence of ghosts. One show, "Ghost Adventures" relies on EVPs for 99% of their "proof". EVP is short for electronic voice phenomenon. It's the recoding of spirit voices. Back in the 50s, EVPs were believed to just be recordings of energy left behind by the dead. But now a days, EVPs are said to be actual answers by intelligent ghosts responding to questions or situations given to them by the hunters themselves. No matter where you are, if you record sound, there will always be background noises. Whether this be from breathing of the hunter & the crew, creaking from doors or settling of houses, outside animals & traffic, you will always catch noises. So, what do you do when you catch the sound of a creaking door? Flash up on the screen "strange unidentified woman screaming". Catch a heavy sigh of your breath, flash up "demonic breathing". Step on a loose board & it sounds like "Brrreeeeearrrrrrrr", flash up "Burn in Hell". You get the idea. Putting these words up on the screen while playing the noise will suggest to the watcher that the noise is what you say it is. People are easily fooled, use it to your advantage. And if you want to fool them even more... 11. Create your own ghosts. Besides "catching" ghosts by EVP noises & shitty digital recordings, you can also create your own! EVPs can be created on spot by whispering. Whispers cannot be recognized as a specific person, which is why it's perfect to whisper when calling in that ransom call or for creating ghostly EVPs. Hell, you can even whisper without moving your lips, like a ventriloquist. Try it now. See? So what if it doesn't sound exactly like what you're saying? You got the power of text on the screen to tell the audience what they're hearing. As for ghostly images, this may even be done unintentionally. When cameras are set up all over an area, especially ones with infra-red beams shooting all over the place, it's easy for your shadow to appear as a ghostly image. And if all else fails, you can add these things later. After all, the show is not live. It's recorded. It's so easy to be on-site & say, "Did you hear that?" & later on your computer, add a voice saying, "Hey you! Get outta my kitchen!" And speaking of doing a live show... 12. Never do a live show. Most ghost shows make this mistake. Usually on Halloween night, you can catch either "The Ghost Hunters" or "Ghost Adventures" airing a special live show. During these shows, they will always catch something. You know why? Because they're faking it. Now, you would think that having a live show & catching something live would prove what their doing is worth the their time & not wasting yours. But, what usually happens is they usually get caught faking on these shows. Avid skeptics will watch these shows & study it & I'd say more than half the times, catch the hunters fakery. One prime example is the show "Ghost Hunters", which airs on the SCIENCE-FICTION channel. This should be your first tip. But during one of their live shows, the two main hosts were caught setting up a hoax, on camera, where one of the host's jacket would look like it was being pulled backwards by an unseen hand. Later in the episode, a celebrity guest hears the host's earpieces where the show's producer was giving them instructions on their next hoax. The celebrity said he heard a strange voice. Knowing they were caught, the hosts played it off like he wasn't hearing anything, but it was too late. In fact, the TV microphones themselves were sensitive enough to hear the producer's voice through the earpieces. So, while having a live show can be good, it can also backfire. It's best to avoid them all together. 13. Use "psychics" & other Paranormal Investigators. Look, they all know it's bullshit, so they're going to play along with you. You can give them suggestions, just like the people you interviewed earlier & they'll not only go along, they may even give you some suggestions themselves. It's a win-win situation. Also, by having other "experts" along with you, it gives your bullshit a little more validity. 14. Make noises & throw small objects. This is so easy, a caveman can do it. Sorry to remind you of those horrible commercials. When investigating a "haunted" place, it'll be easy to find small rocks all around the crumbling place. Just pick a few up here & there. When it gets too quiet or boring, throw one. Make sure not to film the rock, as that will show it came from you. Just throw it behind you or to the side or hit your friend in the leg. No matter where it lands, it'll make some noise & you can act like it almost hit you or whatever kind of scary nonsense you can make up. Even better, if you can find maybe a 2 by 4 piece of wood & toss it into an adjoining room, it'll make a hell of a lot of noise. Bring lots of fishing line & pull objects over & onto the floor. Whatever can make noise will work best. 15. Play spooky music or weird sounds. This will make any situation seem more haunted than it really is. If you play circus music, no one will be scared (unless it's scary circus music). And nothing will creep people out, more than weird sounds. Some people will even think the sounds are coming from the place itself. 16. Never admit orbs are dust. This is the final step for creating a great bullshit ghost hunting show. Orbs. Orbs are said to be a spirit in ball form. They appear in pictures & on video. They float through the air & move around. They appear & disappear in thin air. And, they're all dust. A ghost hunters best friend is dust. And why shouldn't it be? It can be passed off as a ghost. Once again, digital cameras will help you with orbs as orbs appear mostly with digital photography. Now, here's the trick. Trying to convince your orbs are not dust. You would think it's hard to do this, but it's fairly easy. Just like #7, sometimes don't find anything, you show some orbs, but tell people it's dust. Make up some nonsense explanation that dust moves in a straight line or that it's always visible, then show another film, showing a lone piece of dust & explain how it's movement is different, even though it's the same. Shooting in the dark with night-vision is great too, as the invisible light that the camera gives off, doesn't cover all of the area you're filming. Thus, when a piece of dust comes into that light, from the dark edges or far area of the room, it'll appear as if it manifested from thin air. And when it exits the light, you can say the spirit has just disappeared. Well, I hope this guide helps you. I'm sure if you do create a show, it'll get picked up. Every time you turn around, there's another one on some channel that has nothing to do with ghosts. I think there's even an animal-ghost show on Animal Channel now. Apparently people watch these shows a lot. Hell, I even watch a couple of them for entertainment value only (well, and to write an entry for my blog too). The sad thing is I know that most people watching these shows believe in ghosts. But like I said before, people are easily fooled. Instead of being fooled, be a fooler. There are no such things as psychics, there are no such things as ghost hunters, & there certainly are no such things as ghosts.

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superchartisland · 5 years

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Trivial Pursuit (Domark, Spectrum, 1986)

Gallup all formats chart, Your Computer Vol. 7 No. 1, January 1987

Trivial Pursuit the board game divides the world of knowledge into six categories; six wedges of cheese for six spaces in a wheel with six spokes. In pursuit of rounded knowledge from Trivial Pursuit the computer game of the board game, there seems no better framework to adopt than its own.

By the time 1986 turned into 1987, electronic games had become well established as a leisure pursuit in their own right. For the teenagers of the time, they had been popular in some form for their entire lives. The ZX Spectrum and Commodore 64 had been out for five years, and increasing numbers of parents were being persuaded of their educational and fun value. That would carry on -- I got my own Commodore 64 several Christmases later. As discussed a few entries back, computer games were sold in the biggest high street shops. Meanwhile, sports are a familiar subject for AAA. Making games about subjects people already know well is an easy route in for an audience. Taking an already popular activity like football with its own set of defined rules and turning it into computerised form is an even more obvious thing to go for, on both the developers’ side and the players’. With that background, it is no surprise at all to find other existing leisure activities being successfully translated into computer games. The board game Trivial Pursuit was of a similar age to the Spectrum and C64, still in an initial swing of popularity which meant that an electronic version of it wasn’t trying to replace a well-established favourite like Monopoly, but offering an alternative or addition to the fun thing you’d recently come across. The computer game’s manual explicitly calls it a game that “the whole family (Mum and Dad included!) enjoy enormously.” On Christmas Day 1986, many British families must have gathered round the Spectrum after dinner for a game of Trivial Pursuit.

Computer science, particularly at the kind of price that was able to reach large numbers of game-playing households, had only advanced so far. This presented some technological barriers to recreating the Trivial Pursuit experience. Representing the colour brown, for instance, was apparently an unachievable task, and so the art & literature wedge becomes black. Still, Trivial Pursuit is a very viable candidate for transfer to computer form, comprising as it does of a series of trivia questions with a limited appendage of choosing movement and collecting tokens. So the dice also go, replaced by a random dart-throwing animation which captures a miniscule fraction of the tactile sense of ceremony, but mostly the game is intact. Expanded on, even, since the board game couldn’t offer musical rounds where listening to “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain” is an essential part of the experience, or easily offer picture rounds. The one remaining issue is that of the mechanics of answering questions. I assumed going in that there would be some kind of multiple choice arrangement, but the actual solution is much more simple and elegant. The game just poses each question and then asks whether you got it right, Y/N? Players of the board game similarly get an answer written down and have to determine among themselves whether the player asked it answered satisfactorily, so why should a computer recreation of the experience be any different? The psychology of presenting an irreversible button-press and relying on players’ honesty in this way is nonetheless a fascinating sideshow all of its own.

I’ve talked previously about the strength of games as ways of presenting spaces. Trivial Pursuit has several spaces to present. One is the board, a recreation of a physical object with functionality retained and resemblance to the original object at the forefront. Another of its spaces is the more completely imagined room in which the question master paces backwards and forwards, surrounded by items to represent the different question categories. Sometimes it goes dark, giving the idea of an image being cast by a projector, the game turning into both test and lecture at the same time. Among the items in the room is a world map up on the wall. And what is a chart but a map of territory, of tangible or intangible space? The Gallup charts by which we are finding our way through the AAA journey are maps of their own territory, suspended between imaginary and real. SalesSpace, we could call it. In SalesSpace, the things that count are time and format and sales, and that’s what’s reflected in the picture of relationships between games that charts of SalesSpace show. In SalesSpace, board game recreation Trivial Pursuit and World War II shoot-em-up 1942 sit together in the same top ten. In SalesSpace, Trivial Pursuit goes between well-remembered arcade games Paperboy and Gauntlet along the route through the UK’s #1 games. Look along the right axes and what you might have thought of as very separate places turn out to be right next to each other.

One of the first things that’s obvious on playing Trivial Pursuit the computer game is its commitment to being as accessible as it can. It’s notable that it uses the keyboard’s arrow keys for directional controls, rather than QAOP or one of the other arcane combinations other Spectrum games tended to go for. Anyone was clearly meant to be able to turn up and figure out what was happening as quickly as possible, and that holds up. Admittedly if I didn’t already know the rules of Trivial Pursuit I would need the manual at hand, but that goes for the board game too. Past that, the basic action of answering trivia questions is fun, its questions are pretty well-pitched as easy but not too much so, and the attention to detail seems reasonable (I haven’t encountered any Hugh Jackilometresans so far). The choice of questions goes for timelessness, even more than the board version since the music question choices are backwards looking, presumably to keep the sound samples copyright-free. Where it doesn’t achieve that timelessness, the perspective on what has changed in three decades makes for intriguing wrinkles -- you could probably still ask “What was Mrs. Fawlty’s Christian name?” but not in those words. Trivial Pursuit is one of the most straightforwardly entertaining games I’ve played for AAA so far.

But is it art? It’s not a question that I’ve engaged with on this blog elsewhere, because it’s not very interesting, but it’s one that somehow doesn’t go away. An inferiority-complex-driven need to justify video games to outsiders as being art seems to have infinite lives. Worse, within some very loud pockets of game culture, that need sits alongside a vicious refusal to tolerate the kind of cultural criticism that art tends to get. Sometimes the same people are the ones saying both, and more. There’s no place for politics in games, apparently. Narrative events only ever happen inside the context of the narrative and not a wider context of authorial choice. Games should just be fun, OK? But, of course, the right kind of fun. The wrong kind of fun means a non-game, a phrase I became familiar with as I re-engaged with video games in the Wii and DS era and read NeoGAF, a gaming forum which was relatively open and welcoming (i.e. it was merely toxic rather than a seething hellscape). Wii Sports was a non-game. Non-games are successful games which are too popular and do too many things which games don’t do to count as games. In a weird inversion of the ‘how is this art?’ Turner Prize winner phenomenon, the mainstream audience sees non-games as a perfectly fine type of game and the enthusiasts proclaiming themselves at the centre of the culture completely deny non-games a place in the category. Not in the sense of them being too lowbrow, but of trying to define them out completely. Trivial Pursuit would surely have counted as a non-game. Which is nonsense, obviously. It provides an experience of a virtual space that’s dependent on the player’s actions, producing an emerging narrative within its bounds. I can’t work out a plausible game definition which wouldn’t include it without going absurdly narrow. Its selection of questions is a meaningful creative decision, illustrating and reinforcing what knowledge is seen as worth knowing. As for the wider art question, let’s just say that I have an equally tough time with any argument that identifies Frank Bruno’s Boxing as art and doesn’t do the same for Trivial Pursuit.

One of the more successful tactics of the kind of gatekeepers who talk about non-games is an appeal to history. They were here first. People who want something different than monolithic hardcore games are trying to change the rightful way of things proven by time. The whole idea of non-games has that idea of definition-by-precedent built in. Yet find the right maps and this appeal to history is revealed as not only bogus, but bogus even within the boundaries of its own arguments. Casual games and casual players have been here thriving all along. As 1986 turned in 1987, more people were going to their local high street WHSmith and buying Trivial Pursuit the computer game than were buying anything that has outlasted it as an emblem of retro gaming. The world mapped out by the games charts has always been a big one with room for many perspectives and interests. It’s not surprising, because it’s the same story for other media. And yes, other media have their own purer-in-the-old-days crews, too. Music discussions are crowded with talk of how things were better in the past when real music ruled. But significantly, it’s almost as common to see the response that there has always been music of different types in every era, even if it’s likely to be phrased as ‘there has always been disposable pop’ or something more derogatory. The narrative of aberration can’t stand when enthusiasts are engaged with the reality that refutes it. It’s much tougher for ahistorical nonsense to gain any credence when reality is a matter of public record, the charts that map history still accessible. But what if your medium has failed to keep its history up so well? What if the only history most get to see is filtered through the nostalgia and commercial goals of a specific set of winning viewpoints? What if Gauntlet is commemorated but Trivial Pursuit isn’t? Then the gatekeepers can just keep on pretending that the current version of what they don’t approve of is a new aberration, restarting their game to fight the same fights over and over again from a position of illusory strength. The selective retention of knowledge is anything but trivial.

Q: What was the UK’s best-selling computer game at the turn of 1987?

A: Trivial Pursuit.

#every number one #Trivial Pursuit #8bit #retrogaming #ZX Spectrum #1987 #video games

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