#but it is one million percent candid in that i FELT my face DO THAT and it STAYED that way for like FIVE MINUTES

[rubensmuse]

so i went into Death Stranding the same way i go into most AAA games: with plenty of story spoilers, but absolutely no gameplay spoilers. and DS throws a surprising number of complications and flavor into its otherwise straightforward gameplay; i 1000% underestimated how much effort went into shaking up the long-haul deliveryman routine. genuinely, it never gets boring for me.

anyway here's the expression i made the first time i ambled into MULE territory and heard the distant rev of a fucking car engine

#WE'RE DOING MAD MAX NOW?? IN TIMES SUCH AS THESE??? #seriously tho this pic is staged in the sense that i made a conscious decision to open my webcam after the fact - #but it is one million percent candid in that i FELT my face DO THAT and it STAYED that way for like FIVE MINUTES #death stranding spoilers #death stranding #just squirrelly things

[atths--twice]

How It Should Have Been

An AU in which Mulder never left after William was born. Life has gone the way it should have gone, the three becoming the family they deserved to be. But now, Mulder and Scully are headed back to work and they need to find someone to take care of their baby boy. Will they find someone they can trust?

This was an idea I saw in August of last year. It wasn't exactly an ask, but a tweet for which I felt a spark of an idea. It has taken a few months, but I have finally gotten there. It's sweet and how it should have been for them. No darkness, no alien baby, just a normal life with their miracle child.

As much as I loved the revival, Existence was the most perfect ending for the show; all of them together and knowing they would be okay. We could have been left with the knowledge that they were not being hunted and were now together as they always should have been.

Well, this is a little, "what if that happened."

Hope you enjoy it!

“Mulder…” Scully said, in a tone he knew very well. He smiled as he continued tying his tie and waited for her to come into their bedroom.

He smiled again as she walked in wth William in her arms, his chubby cheeks flushed and his bit of fair hair messy from sleep. He grinned at Mulder, reaching out for him, kicking his legs excitedly.

“Hello, my boy. How are you this morning?” he asked as he took him and kissed his soft head, breathing in his wonderful baby scent.

William laid his head on his chest, his little hands grasping at the knot on Mulder’s tie. Lifting his head, he tried to put his mouth on it, but Mulder stopped him with a chuckle.

“Hey now, none of that,” he said, his hand covering the knot, kissing William’s cheek and then lifting him over his head. He squealed with excitement, his body wriggling happily.

Bringing him down, he smiled into his eyes as he heard Scully sigh beside him. Looking at her, she shook her head and sighed again. He smiled, reaching out his right arm to pull her close and moving William to his left arm, gently rocking them both.  

“I know you’re worried,” he said softly as he kissed the top of her head. “But… everything is planned, it’s all ready and-”

“I know that, Mulder. I do. I just…”  She pulled back and stared up at him as she rubbed William’s back. “I’m worried about him. About how he’ll react and what he’ll do when we leave. Will he cry? Will he be inconsolable? I don’t…”

“Scully…” He set William in the portable crib in their room, a few books and toys inside to hold his attention. Walking back to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and moved them down to squeeze her upper arms. “William has met the sitter and he liked her. She was great with him. We both vetted her. In fact, she was triple background checked-  you, me, and Skinner surprisingly.”

“Not so much so, considering how concerned he was when I was pregnant. Nor how much time he’s spent here recently.” She smiled and he nodded with a chuckle, thinking of the dinners and even some weekend afternoons Skinner had spent at their place.

William babbled in the crib, saying dada over and over as Mulder stared at Scully. She sighed and nodded, placing her hands on his chest.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered and she nodded again. She grabbed his tie and brought his lips to hers for a quick kiss.

“I need to feed him and then I’ll get ready.” She kissed him again, walked over to the crib and lifted William out of it. She kissed his head and left the room.

Mulder listened to her singing “Joy To The World” softly as she nursed William and he smiled, happier than he ever had been. Walking out of the bedroom, he went into the kitchen to double check that the bottles of breast milk were ready, the baby food they had started him on was labeled and measured out, and the numerous notes Scully had written were in order.

He made coffee, put bread in the toaster waiting to be cooked, and took out the jelly he knew Scully liked best. He checked to see if both of their bags were by the door, along with her breast pump, as she would need to pump at some point during the day. When everything was done, he went to the nursery, smiling at them from the doorway.

“I’ll take him, if he’s finished eating.”

“He is, but make sure you have-”

“The burp cloth, I know.” He smiled as he picked one up from the changing table and took William from her, making a silly face as he did. “How long have we been doing this, huh?” She looked at him and nodded with a sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry that I’m-”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize. I completely understand, hon.” She stood up and walked close to him, smiling as he patted William’s back and she adjusted the burp cloth.

“I like when you call me that,” she said softly.

“I know you do,” he whispered back, remembering the first time he had said it and the way her eyes had lit up. And then the way she had loved him after William had been put to bed, asking him to only call her honey, her body still slightly thicker from the pregnancy, arousing him as he had fulfilled her desire.

“Hmm,” she hummed, licking her lips and he shook his head.

“Stop. Go get ready.” She pouted and walked away, humming under her breath.

“And make sweet love to you,” she sang and he shook his head again.

“Scully,” he warned and she laughed. “Your mama is a naughty woman sometimes.” He told William as he looked at him, rubbing his back. William stared at him with his blue eyes and smiled, putting his head back on his shoulder.

Mulder hummed as he burped him, relishing this private moment. Despite his calm demeanor with Scully, he had his own misgivings about leaving him with a relative stranger.

Mrs. Scully had watched him when they had gone out to dinner, but it had not been often. In the past six months, they had been happy to just be with him, staying home and learning their way in this new life.

Deciding that a fresh start had been needed after the stress of William’s arrival into the world, they had worked with a real estate agent. They had found a small three bedroom house in Annandale, roughly equal distance between Quantico and Mrs. Scully’s house.

It needed some updating, and so for a few weeks they had been crammed into Scully’s apartment, Mulder moving out of his own place, having no desire to be there anymore. He did not want to be away from his family for even one night.

Moving into the small home, Mrs. Scully, the Gunmen, Skinner, Monica and Doggett helping to carry boxes and furniture, it had all felt surreal. When they had gone and it had been only the three of them, William asleep in Scully’s arms, it had finally felt like a reality.

“We’re home,” he had whispered to her, pulling her close. She had hummed and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“We are,” she had replied and he smiled.

“Would you ever have thought this would be where we ended up?” he had asked and she chuckled, pulling back to look at him.

“Not in a million years.”

“But you’re happy?” He had frowned, suddenly worried, even though he knew he should not be.

“Mulder…” she had sighed as she shook her head. “How can you even ask me that?”

“I just…”

“I am happier than I ever thought possible. Is it what I had imagined for myself? No… But is it what I want? One hundred percent.” She had smiled, looking down at William, watching him sucking in his sleep. She had trailed a finger softly down his face and looked back at Mulder. “I love you so much. I couldn’t imagine a life with anyone but you- my constant, my touchstone.”

“Oh, Scully,” he had breathed, pulling her close again, mindful of William between them, rocking them slowly, tears in his eyes as he had hummed an unknown tune.

They had spent a month arranging the house, getting to know the area, and simply being. But they both knew they would eventually have to go back to work.

And that presented a problem.

“I can watch him anytime you need,” Mrs. Scully had said, holding him at dinner one night, smiling as he reached for her necklace. She had stopped him, kissing his chubby hand as she held it.

“And we appreciate that, but we can’t ask that of you every day, Mom,” Scully had said, smiling as she watched them. “Mulder is right, as much as I do hate admitting it.” He had snorted with laughter and they all laughed, William screaming happily.

“Maybe a part time sitter?” Scully asked, looking at him and he had nodded with a smile.

And so it had been decided. Mrs. Scully would watch him twice a week and a nanny would come the other three days. Finding the right person had been difficult. Many interviews with different candidates had left Scully discouraged, until they had met Hannah.

She was older than most of the women they had met, nearly forty, and she had been perfect. Funny, kind, attentive to both their needs and to William as he lay on the floor playing with his toys. She had moved from the couch to the floor beside him, continuing the interview as she had played with and spoke to him. They had both liked her immensely, but knew how easy it could be to be fooled by kindness.

Strenuous background checks had been performed, Mulder asking the Gunmen to look into her and unbeknownst to him, Scully had asked the same. Then Skinner had come over one evening, a file in hand to tell them all about Hannah Gale.

She had been hired and came over again, seeing where everything was kept, any questions she had had been answered, and vice versa. They felt more at ease, but there was still that feeling of worry, that old paranoia hard to push down.

William burped loudly and Mulder shook his head, his hand that had stilled as he was lost in thought, once more moving and attempting to release any remaining air.

“You’ll be alright, right? You like Hannah. And your grandma will be here tomorrow. Plus, Mama’s only working a half day, so she will be home in just a few hours.” He rubbed William’s back and closed his eyes as he rested his head against William’s soft, nearly bald one.

“I’m ready,” Scully said. He opened his eyes as she stepped into the room, smiling at them. William raised his head and reached out for her with a toothless grin.

They went into the kitchen, the bread toasting and two cups of coffee poured. Mulder held William as they ate a quick breakfast, Scully repeatedly looking at her watch and glancing towards the front door.

“Scully…” he said, squeezing her hand.

“I know.” She squeezed back, taking a deep breath and smiling at him.

He handed William to her and she closed her eyes as she kissed his head and held him close. A couple of minutes later, right on time, the doorbell rang and she opened her eyes, looking at Mulder.

“We got this,” he said, standing up to open the door for Hannah. He heard Scully’s quiet affirmative and he smiled.

Another tour of the house, Scully again telling and showing Hannah where everything was located, while she smiled with a nod as she held William.

“We’re only doing rice cereal and carrots right now, seeing how he likes them and if he has any allergies,” Scully said, showing her the food and Hannah nodded again. William’s schedule was retold, the notes laid out and Mulder gently nudged Scully, raising his eyebrows at her.

“Okay. I know.” She sighed as Mulder began to gather their bags. “I’ll be back at around one thirty.”

“Yes. We will see you then,” Hannah said, waving William’s hand at her. “I’ll take him into the other room and read him a book while you leave. That will help with the detachment.”

“Mm…” Scully hummed, biting her lip and nodding her head.

“Come on, Scully,” Mulder said softly, kissing William’s head quickly and stepping back. Scully kissed William’s hand and Hannah smiled at her.

“We’ll be fine, Dana.” She touched Scully’s arm and nodded at both of them, walking out of the room, speaking to William and making him giggle.

“Scully,” he said again and she looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Come on, honey. It’ll be okay.”

She nodded and took the bag he offered her. He opened the door and they quietly left, William’s laughter the last thing they heard.

She cried on the way to work, accepting the tissues he had added to the car the night before. He said nothing, not wanting to add his own worry and sadness to hers. It was different for him and he knew it, so he stayed quiet, offering her his hand, kissing her knuckles softly.

Arriving at Quantico, they showed their credentials and were shown to their separate offices. They were no longer assigned to the X-Files, it being left in the capable hands of Agent Reyes and Agent Doggett. They were now teaching at Quantico as it afforded them more flexibility with a steady schedule that worked with a newborn.

Scully would be starting out at half days for a month, gradually moving into full days. He would be full time 9-5 every day,  starting today, and he was both excited and nervous. It had been a long time since he had taught a class, but he was excited about this new journey.

“Well,” he said, looking around her office as she hung up her coat and traded it for the pristine white lab coat that was hanging on a hook. “It’s not the basement, but I suppose it’ll have to do.” He smiled at her and she tried to smile back, but failed.

Setting her bags down on the desk, he pulled her close and held her as they both took a calming breath. He rubbed her back as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

“How about we take it hour by hour? We both have a class at nine thirty. I’ll meet you back here when it’s over and we can make out for like five minutes.” She laughed against him and pulled back to look into his eyes. He grinned and kissed her softly, knowing they would be too busy and too far from one another to make that happen.

“I’ll be okay. You better get going or you’ll be late.” She kissed him and adjusted his tie, patted his chest and took a deep breath. “We got this.”

“We do,” he whispered and she nodded.

“See you in a few hours.”

“Oh, I’ll be calling you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smiled as he began to back out of the room and she laughed with a knowing nod.

He watched her walk down the hall, the sound of her heels familiar and it made him smile. She turned around before she walked out of sight and made a waving motion at him, telling him to get going. He nodded and hurried to drop off his coat in his office and then ran to his first class, arriving right on time.

He was only able to call her twice, both of them in a rush, their next class always fast approaching. She left a note on his desk before she left, telling him she was taking the car and would see him at home soon. There was no signature, save for an ink black open heart. He smiled and put the note in his bag, ate a quick lunch and headed to his next class.

At the end of the day, he caught a taxi home and was able to finish up on some things he had left unattended during the day. Sighing happily as he put away his work, he looked out the window as the sun began to go down.

He was heading home, to the woman he loved and their six month old son. Shaking his head, he laughed softly at how utterly crazy that still felt.

The lights of the homes in their neighborhood were on and every house looked cozy and inviting. He saw fall decorations on nearly all of them and it dawned on him that it was nearly Thanksgiving.

A couple walked by with a dog, the man pushing a baby stroller. He wondered what Scully would say about getting a dog. They had a decent sized yard and he had often thought what it would be like to have a dog to play fetch with when he had sat out on the porch drinking a beer. Maybe he would bring it up to her tonight, test the waters a bit.

“Here we are, sir,” the cab driver said and Mulder smiled as he saw the house coming into view.

“Thanks. Have a nice rest of your evening.” He paid him and got out, staring at their little house and smiling when he saw two pumpkins on the porch and a cornucopia of Indian corn.

He walked up the steps and smiled again when he saw the stick scarecrow family of three in the potted plant of red and golden flowers on the small table between the two porch chairs.

Someone must have done some shopping that afternoon.

Opening the door, he could smell garlic and his mouth began to water. Setting his bag down, he closed the door and took off his coat, hanging it on his cue ball coat rack. He walked into the kitchen and found Scully in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot, and holding William on her hip. She swayed slightly to the music she had playing softly and his heart swelled at the sight of them.

“Ahhhh,” William yelled, kicking his feet and waving his arms, smiling when he saw Mulder. Scully turned around and also smiled when she saw him, leaving the spoon in the pot and coming closer to him.

“Welcome home,” she murmured, kissing him softly.

“I like the decorations,” he said, kissing her again and she smiled.

“We were out and…” She shrugged and he nodded with a smile. “I didn’t realize it was nearly Thanksgiving. What would you think if we hosted?” He shrugged, not bothered either way, and walked to the sink to wash his hands before he took William from her, kissing his cheeks and head.

“So it was all okay?” he asked as she returned to stirring the pot and she nodded, glancing at him.

He smiled and nodded back, kissing the top of her head and taking William with him. Stopping to feed the fish, they watched them swimming around and then continued to the bedroom where he placed William in the portable crib while he took a quick shower and changed.

They all ate dinner, William sitting in his high chair and playing with his toys as they discussed their day, mostly focusing on what she and William had done once she was home.

“William was fine. He was sleeping when I got home and Hannah had even done some laundry and the house was very clean. I was surprised, but very happy with it.” She shrugged and he smiled. “I like her, Mulder.”

“Me too.”

They finished dinner and cleaned up, Mulder dancing around with William as they finished, his happy squeals echoing through the house. He was brought to the blanket on the floor, where they worked on rolling over and sitting up. He was close on both, but just needed a bit more time.

When he started to rub his eyes, Scully picked him up and they gave him a bath. She nursed him once more before he was placed in his bed for the evening, both of them watching him as he fell asleep, the mobile spinning slowly above his bed and playing a soft lullaby.

They left the room, closing the door halfway, and Mulder smiled at her. She raised her eyebrows and he bent his head to kiss her, pressing her into the wall, her arms wrapping around his neck. They walked down the hall, kissing and leaving a trail of clothing behind them.

She lay atop his chest, both of them out of breath, her thighs bracketing his body, his hand tangled in her hair. She scratched at his side and he thrust up, his body spent, but her touch eliciting a primal reaction.

“God…” she moaned and raised her head to kiss him, her tongue sliding slowly across his, his fingers pressing into her scalp.

She moved off of him, her eyes dark as they raked over his body. He got up and they both used the bathroom and brushed their teeth, before getting back into bed. Snuggling close to one another, he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her forehead and closing his eyes.

“It was a good day, Mulder. I had been so worried. After all we went through to get pregnant… there’s this guilt that constantly presses upon me about leaving him. Even if it’s only with my mother. It feels…”

“I know. And I also know, as I didn’t carry him and I missed a lot during your pregnancy, that it’s different for me. But… I was worried too.”

“What?” She raised her head and pulled back to look at him. “You never said…”

“No,” he said, brushing her hair back with a smile. “One of us had to be the stronger one, keep that worry at bay, and know that everything would be okay.”

“Did we switch places? Am I you?” She looked under the blankets and touched her chest, causing him to laugh.

“No, we definitely didn’t switch places,” he chuckled, pulling her closer, his fingers running over her soft skin. “As his mother, I know that your worry will always be there because… well, that’s what a mom does. Our lives have proven that that worry is not unfounded, but… we also have to learn to let people into our lives. I mean, we’ll vette them first of course…” She laughed and hooked her leg over his, her arm around his waist.

“It’s going to be good. We just have to learn how to trust people beyond our small circle of friends.”

“Trust everyone?” she teased and he chuckled.

“After they’re thoroughly vetted by a few of us, I say why not?” She laughed, kissing his throat, as he smiled and closed his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered and he kissed her head, taking a deep breath.

“I love you too.”

She shifted, turning onto her side and he followed, spooning her with a leg between hers. She brought his hand to her lips, holding it close as she took a deep breath. He kissed her cheek and she hummed.

“Hey, Scully?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about getting a dog?”

“I think... we should talk about it in the morning,” she said tiredly and he smiled, squeezing her hand.

“That wasn’t a no,” he whispered in her ear and she chuckled, her breathing slowly evening out. He kissed her cheek once more and smiled as he closed his eyes.

It was definitely not a no…

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Post Existence #What If #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Living Together #Life Partners #Inspired by a Twitter post #Family #Happy Family #What should have happened

[thebountyfucker]

Sharing is Caring

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Embo/F!Reader/Cad, minor Embo/Cad

Tags: PiV sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, deep throating, Embo and Cad are sorta buddies, lots o' cum, overstimulation, shibari, slightly feral Bo

Here's the link to my masterpost

This one is for the group chat. Love you hoes

“I got company comin’ over, so ya better behave.” Cad drawled as he ran the rope he was rigging you up with along your waist. You met his gaze, your eyes shimmering nervously. You were too damn cute, he’d give you that.

“C-company?” You asked as he tied off the rope and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Don’ get all shy now. It’s just Bo.” He muttered as he turned to dig around in his dresser drawers for one of his numerous toys. He pulled out a wand vibrator, and turned it on with a smirk. He threaded the wand through the rope around your waist and angled it so it hit your clit just right. You gasped softly as he patted your cheek. “Keep quiet fer me, okay? I’d hate fer him to know dat yer in dis state.”

You nodded frantically as he slipped out the door. Your legs shook already. It was going to be a long night…

-

Cad poured Embo a drink from the bar, watching the other hunter with a keen eye. They were tentative allies, sure, but Cad would hardly say that he trusted the other hunter. Given the glances Embo shot him in return, the feeling was mutual. They had to be. One always had to be on their guard around other hunters. One could never guess where the others' loyalties lie.

Cad made his way toward Embo with drink in hand. Embo accepted it with a nod, not saying a word. Cad didn’t mind. Embo’s silence was one of the reasons he was tolerable compared to the others. Cad set his own drink down on the table and moved toward the panel on the wall, raising the oxygen levels so his company could drink without the risk of suffocation. Cad’s breathing tubes went to work filtering out the extra oxygen.

“Hear anythin’ interestin’ from de Guild?” Cad drawled as he eased down into his chair and gathered a pack of playing cards in his hand. Embo grunted as he set his mask aside and took a sip of his drink.

“There is a job coming up. They will not say who is hiring, but the payout is roughly five million.” Embo replied, and Cad whistled in response.

“Damn. Any interest?”

“Of course there is interest. But they need someone of a higher caliber than most within the Guild.”

“So who’s a serious candidate?” Cad asked as he dealt out a hand of cards. Embo grabbed his cards, and fanned them out in his hand.

“Bossk, Aurra…”

“You?”

Embo chuckled as he glanced down at his cards. “Yes.”

“Guild-specific hiring?” Cad asked after taking a large swig of his drink.

“Unfortunately.” Embo reached for his drink and took a sip. “But I could get you in on it. 65/35 split sound amenable?”

“Sixty-five percent in my favor?” Cad teased with a quirk of his browridge. Embo rolled his eyes.

“No, mine. I would be getting the job, after all.”

“Doesn’t seem like getting de job is worth dat much. 50/50 split.”

“60/40.”

“Are ya really tryin’ dis wit’ me?” Cad managed with a chuckle. He downed his drink and laid out a card. Embo glared down at the card, before looking at his own hand.

“You do it to me all the time. I think it is only fair to return the favor.”

“Oh fuck you.” Cad managed between snickers as Embo laid down a card of his own. Cad leaned back. “Now dat was a dumb play.”

“I still do not get this game.” Embo muttered as he finished his drink and set his cards down on the table face down. He gestured to the bar. “May I?”

“Go ahead. Bring de whole bottle while yer at it.” Embo nodded in understanding as he stood and approached the bar, before pausing halfway across the room. Cad frowned and leaned forward. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“It sounds as though someone is in pain.”

“Oh dat’s just my fuck toy.” Cad replied nonchalantly, and Embo blinked over at him.

“Should I… leave?”

“Nah. Just let ‘er be. I’ll take care o’ ‘er in a bit.” Cad leaned back and put down another card. Embo came over with the bottle of booze and set it down on the table, before looking at the card Cad put down.

“Why did you do that?”

“Wanted t’ give ya a chance.” Cad smirked as he flicked the cap off the bottle and took a swig, much to Embo’s dismay. Embo settled back in his chair, a look of discomfort on his face.

“You are not usually so generous.”

“What can I say? De prospect of two-and-a-half million makes me feel all warm an’ fuzzy.” Cad fiddled around in his pocket and produced a pack of cigs. He offered one to Embo, who took it and perched it between his lips. Cad leaned over to light it for him.

They thoughtfully smoked in silence, taking turns laying down cards until Cad inevitably won. Embo seemed distracted, though, and Cad wasn’t sure why until he heard you whining for him from the room nearby. Embo shifted in his chair, trying to ignore your calls, but Cad could see they were getting to him. His eyes brightened, his body went lax… he fidgeted with the cards as he tried to think of anything else. Cad was almost certain that he was hard.

Cad set down his cards and stood, slowly approaching Embo. Embo put out the cig on his hand and looked up at Cad.

“What?” His voice was husky despite himself. Cad chuckled as he gripped Embo’s chin between his fingers, and tilted his head back. He could feel Embo tense beneath him, unsure of Cad’s intentions.

“Do ya want ‘er?”

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Come now… ya can’t fool me. Yer eyes give ya away. Dey always do.” Cad chuckled as he released his grip on Embo’s chin; he instead patted Embo’s cheek. “Go on. Take ‘er.”

“I… do not understand.”

“Like I said, dat much money gets me feelin’ good. My only demand is dat ya aren’t doin’ dat gentle shit. Fuck her so hard she can’t walk. Got it?”

“And if she does not want that?”

“She will.”

-

The vibrator against your clit was pure torture at this point. A puddle of your fluids covered the floor beneath you. Your legs could hardly hold you up. You needed Cad to free you. He was so close by, you knew that he could hear you. You knew he could! You cried out his name once more as the door slid open and in walked… well… not Cad. Embo’s glowing eyes pierced through the darkness, and you shuddered, suddenly embarrassed by your nudeness and obvious arousal. Cad entered the room behind him, pushing Embo toward you.

“Cad, what are you-?” You asked as Cad came over to switch off the vibrator.

“I’m gonna let Bo take care of ya.” He hummed as he stroked your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a small sigh.

“If you do not want this, you are free to say so.” Embo muttered, and Cad chuckled, tangling a hand into the hair at the base of your skull.

“She’s a lil’ slut. She won’ say no.”

“You like to put words in her mouth.” Embo muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest. Cad went about untying you, before leaning in close and whispering in your ear.

“Go on, den. Speak t’ him. Settle his anxious lil’ mind.”

“I would like that.” You nodded, stretching your limbs as Cad untied them. Cad tossed the rigging rope aside, before sitting down in a nearby chair to watch.

You turned back toward Embo, who hadn’t moved from his position. He was waiting for you to make the first move. Ever the gentleman. You sauntered toward him, less gracefully than you were intending since your legs felt like jelly beneath you. He watched as you approached, unmoving.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy.”

“I am not ‘shy’.” He muttered as he glanced over at Cad. “He wishes for it to be rough. Speak now if you are not amenable to that.”

“Cad knows how I like things.” You fiddled with the latches of his armor, surprised at how easy they gave under your ministrations. The armor fell to the floor. You pulled him down so you could whisper in his ear. “You should really listen to him.”

“So he says.” Embo muttered as he swatted your hands away so he could remove the rest of his clothes. You would have assumed he was displeased with the situation given his tone and… well… general demeanor. But a deep, loud purr rumbled from within his chest, and you knew that he was thrilled. Cad leaned back, watching with keen eyes.

Bo hardly finished undressing before shoving you down onto your knees. Your gaze landed on his cock and you swallowed hard; it was larger than you were expecting. You looked up at him, and then down at his erect cock.

“I don’t know if I can-.”

He brought his cock to your lips and you opened wide anyways. He tangled a hand in your hair and guided your mouth down his length - well, as far as you could without completely choking on him. He held you there, at your limit, watching as your face got red and tears welled in your eyes, before easing you off. You only got a moment of relief before he guided you back over his length, this time much faster. You gagged around him. He pulled away. He shoved you back onto his cock, much more forcefully. Tears streamed down your cheeks. When he pulled away, you let out a deranged little laugh.

“Come on, I’ve fucked ‘er harder den dat!” Cad called and Embo growled in response.

“Shut up.” He released his grip on your hair and instead started thrusting into your mouth, driving hard and deep. The slick sounds mixed with your gagging filled the room, and you cast a sideways glance toward Cad and he leaned back, legs spread open like the whore he was. A hand rested on his thigh, easing toward the obvious bulge in his pants.

Embo wrenched his cock out of your mouth and bent over to pick you up straight off the ground. He tossed you face-first onto the bed, and was quick to box you in against it. He leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours.

“I am going to fuck you now.”

“Please do.” You lifted your ass to press against his cock. He growled lowly in your ear as he rutted his cock along your rear.

“Good. Good girl.”

He lifted his weight off of you and pulled open your legs, before drawing the head of his cock along your swollen cunt. You mewled and whined, rocking your hips in an effort to push him further into you. You got your wish, much faster and harder than you were expecting. The air was wrenched from your lungs as you fell face-first against the comforter on the bed. He submerged himself to the hilt, and your toes curled at the sensation of him filling you up. You moaned his name, and turned your head to glance at Cad.

Cad offered you a wink as he palmed his bulge through his pants. Cad’s face was tinged with green, and his eyes were hazy with lust. You knew that he’d want to get involved somehow. You wondered if Embo would let him. The last thing you wanted was for them to get in a fight over you… though that would be pretty hot…

A hand went to your throat and the other went to your lower stomach as he fucked into you, fast and hard, like a frenzied animal driven to breed. He muttered something in his mother tongue, something so heavy with lust that you can’t translate it. The hand on your throat tightened. Your head lolled forward into the comforter. He lifted you, holding you in the air as he drove into you. You moaned, your legs shaking around him.

You managed to turn your head to watch Cad shedding his clothes and approaching. He put a hand to Bo’s back, and Bo’s head shot toward him, a feral look in his eyes.

“Easy dere.”

Bo replied in his native tongue, and Cad’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’ sass me. If ya remember, she’s my lil’ fuck toy.”

Again, Bo replied in his native language. His grip on your throat tightened until you stars filled your vision and you were gasping for air. Warmth pooled in your belly, threatening to spill over. Cad muttered a response in Durese, which eased Bo’s grip on your throat. You took a deep breath as he picked up his pace, fucking harder, faster. You hadn’t known that it was possible for a person to thrust that fast. Your whine pitched up.

Cad’s hand slipped underneath you, rubbing the area around your clit. It was swollen and hot, and your whine pitched up even higher as he chuckled.

“What a filthy lil’ slut, takin’ another man like dis.” The pad of his finger ghosted over your clit and your entire body seized, on the precipice of orgasm. “Won’tcha cum, lil lady? Hm?”

His finger brushed over your clit again and you were done in. You screamed out his name as your body went stiff and you squirted all over Bo. Fireworks sparked in every nerve, drawing euphoria to wash over you.

Bo pulled out of you, panting but not yet sated. You listened to his breathing as you came to, your gaze immediately drawn to him. Cad had a hand wrapped around Bo’s cock, and was stroking it lazily. Bo’s eyes were half-lidded at the touch, and he reached out to wrap a hand around Cad’s neck, though Cad was not about to let that happen.

“Don’tchu think about dat.” Cad growled, and in a flash Bo had somehow managed to lift Cad and toss him down onto the bed. He straddled Cad’s waist and pressed his hands down on Cad’s chest, not initiating anything sexual but letting the Duros know that he was trapped. Cad’s eyes were wide and his mouth was agape as Bo leaned down.

“You do not command me.”

Cad stared up at him a moment longer, before gathering his wits about himself and pushing at Embo with a growl. “Get off o’ me, ya lug!”

Embo obliged, moving off of him and setting his gaze toward you once more. You shivered and reached for him, begging for more.

“Hey, yer takin’ my cock now. He can watch.” Cad muttered as he moved between you and Bo, driving into you without another word. Bo’s eyes flashed and you knew he was displeased by this. Something about Cad pushing him to be rough had activated this feral aspect of him you had never seen before. He growled in his native tongue and Cad growled in response. “She’s mine, remember?! Now stop actin’ like some beast and let me fuck ‘er, ‘kay?”

“Don’t be rude, Cad.” You muttered as you reached for Embo, wrapping your hand around his cock and giving it a few strokes. Cad rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you as he thrust into you, not nearly as fast but just as hard as Bo had. At the same time, you pumped Bo’s cock, feeling it quiver within your hand. Embo wrapped a hand around your wrist, and helped guide you. He was rambling on in his native language, and you weren’t sure if he knew that you couldn’t understand him. You just nodded along as Cad growled and rolled his eyes again.

“Won’tcha shut up? Stars, I give ya booze and let ya fuck my girl and suddenly ya have so much t’ say ‘bout everything.”

“Make me.” Was all Embo said in response. Cad’s eyes narrowed as he continued to fuck you, grinding his hips against yours.

“I’ll bite chu.”

“Oh, so frightening.”

You managed a chuckle between your moans, and you leaned forward to lap at the head of Embo’s slick-covered cock. You delighted in the taste of yourself as you wrapped your lips around his cock. This drew him from his squabbling with Cad, which then allowed Cad to focus on fucking you. The room went quiet, save for the pants and moans of the two men. Perfect.

Cad drew his devilish finger around your clit, and you whimpered, the noises reverberating into Bo’s cock. He moaned softly at this. His eyes slid shut as he gingerly rocked his hips. You could tell by the quivering of his cock that he was close.

Cad pinched your clit, drawing an even louder whimper for you as the heat pooled in your belly once more. Bo hissed and eased out of your mouth, stroking himself as he neared orgasm. With a small gasp, he came all over your face and neck. You moaned in response, and Cad moaned as well.

“Yer so hot all covered in cum…” He muttered as his own pace grew erratic. He rubbed at your clit as he ground his hips against yours, and you orgasmed once more. Ecstasy coursed through your body as you twitched, dousing Cad with your fluids. He pulled out and orgasmed onto your stomach as you slowly came to. He panted, and moved to the side to allow you to sit up.

It was silent for a while, before Cad turned toward Bo.

“I’m gonna bite chu now.”

“I will bite you right back.” As if trying to prove it, Embo reached up to touch his mask.

“Wouldn’t be de first time.”

“And likely not the last…”

[jos-corner-of-the-world]

Last House on the Left {36}

{Thirty five}

You’d ended up staying a few hours after the initial, awkward, conversation.  You were sitting at the kitchen table the next day, thinking over everything you and Shownu had talked about.  Night had turned to morning and you’d not left your spot you were sitting since coming home.

“You’re up awfully early.” Minghao noted when he saw you.

“Couldn’t sleep.  I went out with Shownu last night.” you said.

“How’s it going with Shownu?” Minghao asked you as he came into the kitchen to get his morning coffee.

“I’m not seeing him anymore.  Well, I am, but not as a potential boyfriend.” you told him as you picked at the table in front of you.

“Why’s that? Just not working out?” Minghao asked, hating that idea.

He could tell that you really got along with Shownu and enjoyed his company a lot, so this news was quite surprising to him. As much as he kind of hated the idea of you dating, he knew Shownu would be really good to you. Something he thought you deserved more than anyone.

“We get along really well, but he said it just wasn’t going to work.” you admitted.  You didn’t tell Minghao that you also knew it wasn’t going to work.  Your brain was still processing that part of it.

“Why wasn’t it going to work? Aw man, I liked this dude. Do I have to go and kick his ass?”

“No.  It’s not like that.  He said...He said he was doing it for me.”

Shownu had been very candid in the conversation much later in the night.  He’d said that he knew he wasn’t the person who could make you happy.  There were just too many differences and neither of you would really ever be comfortable, or happy, in a relationship with each other.

“How is breaking up with someone doing it for them? What kind of shit is that?” Minghao asked, growing mad.

“I don’t know, but it makes sense.  I just...wasn’t all in.  Or even...halfway in. Plus, we weren't dating so we didn't break up.” you told him, not making eye contact.

“Why weren’t you halfway in? Are you okay?” he asked, anger ebbing away to concern.

“It’s...complicated.”

“It’s always complicated babe.  Tell me what happened.” 

He had moved from his spot in front of the coffee pot to come over and sit next to you on the other side of the table. 

“Nothing really happened. We hung out a few times and it was really fun. But it was just different. We both realized that it just wasn’t going anywhere other than friendship.  He was the one to really put it out there though. I'm still not even sure about it to be honest.”

“Realized what? That you weren't all in? It's been like 10 minutes. I'd be concerned if you were all in.”

“That's not...it's more than that. It's just different… it's …” you cut yourself off. You didn't even know what to say or what you were feeling. 

“Hey, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry for bringing it up. I'm more sorry it didn't work out.”

“I want to talk about it.” You said, getting up from the table.

“But I'm confused. I don't know…”

Minghao watched with guarded eyes as you were pacing in front of him.  He stood up, ready to hold you in place if needed so you could talk it out.

You knew that you would get nowhere if you just bottled it up.  But you also weren’t sure you had everything in order in your head to even have a coherent conversation, even if you desperately needed to.

“Just start anywhere. What did Shownu realize to know you weren't in?” He asked.

“He just knew my heart was somewhere else. Or at least...my head was. It was never in the moment with him.” you said honestly, repeating Shownu’s words from the night before.

“Where was your head?” He asked, concern growing as your pacing just increased.

He watched surprised as you stopped pacing and stood right in front of him, but never looked up to meet his eyes.

“It was here. At home. My head was always here. It's confusing.” You admitted quietly.

“That kind of makes sense. A lot of your time is spent here.” Minghao said, failing to follow your narrative.

“I don’t know, I just feel really close to you. I always have.” you finally freely admitted, changing the conversation with just one out of place sentence.

“Okay...and why does that have you so confused?” Minghao asked you, genuinely not understanding your anxious demeanor.

“Because...Minghao, I really don’t know if we should talk about this.” you said suddenly.

“What? Why not?”

“Because what if I spill my heart out and I’m wrong about what I was feeling? Or it gets weird? That would be really horrible.”

“When have things ever been like that with us? Yeah we’ve had our moments and we bicker sometimes, but things are rarely ever weird between us.”

“But Minghao... this is different, this is so much different. I’m feeling...things and I don’t know how to process them or what they even are.  To be completely honest I wasn’t even fully aware of the feelings until last night and this morning.”

“So just talk to me...please.”  He all but begged you.

“I think I like you.”

“Okay….?” Minghao said, still not understanding.  “I like you too.  We established this literally a long time ago.”

“Damnit Minghao, it’s more than that! I look forward to having breakfast with you in the morning. I like the stupid conversations we have everyday.  You drive me absolutely fucking nuts, but in a great way. I love the routine of you being late to work everyday so I can bring you coffee and spend a bit more time with you.  I love that you let me wallow in troubles without actually letting me drown. We fight, but we also laugh together and have fun.” you said, voice raised slightly.

“I really don’t even know when it started.” you said, before cutting yourself off. “Wait, that’s a lie.  It really started on Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Minghao asked, brain still trying to catch up with the situation.

“Well it was really the day after.  When we talked outside.  It was the first time you were really honest and pushed me to talk to you. It showed me that you cared.” 

“Of course I do. I've cared about you for a long time.”

“I know and that's why this sucks. It fucking sucks. I'm so sorry.” You said, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, and why are you crying?” He asked frantically, trying to wipe the tears from your face.

“I'm sorry because of this, and how I feel. It's gonna ruin everything.” The sadness was thick in your voice.

“Even though I still don't one hundred percent know what we're talking about, please don't apologise. You're not going to ruin anything.”

You were exhausted. And quite frankly confused that Minghao had not yet caught up to the conversation.

Without thinking it through fully, you took another step towards him.

He instinctively took a step back.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Would you just hold still?” You asked.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you quickly bounced on your tiptoes and kissed him.

It was a short, chaste kiss, but your mind was going absolutely crazy.

But then your brain caught up to the fact Minghao was still standing stock still.

Embarrassed, you took a step back. You put your hand over your mouth in both surprise that you'd actually done it, and the tingling your lips were feeling from the contact.

It took everything in you to look up and meet Minghaos eyes.

His face seemed to be in a permanent state of shock and bewilderment.

“Fuck. I'm sorry. I thought you were starting to understand. I'm sorry for doing that. I told you, I would ruin things, ruin us. I just...my brain has been telling me for a long time and I just ignored it because I thought I was confusing my feelings. But I don't think I was, and then I go and do this and…” you stopped when Minghao took a step towards you.

His face was still a stone image of the shock.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Would you just stand still?”

And just like that you were in Minghaos arms, him kissing you this time.

Your head was still confused. And in this moment going a million miles an hour. But it also just felt right. It felt like a piece had been missing but was put in its place.

You both took a step back at the same time. Minghaos hands still rested on your hips while yours came up to rest on his shoulders.

As you looked up at him you saw the stone face had gone. But now he was looking at you, you could see all the questions written plainly on his face and in his eyes.

But you didn't get a chance to ask any questions. At that moment the two of you came together again. It was like a magnetic force was pulling the two of you together, and neither of you were going to fight that pull.

The third kiss was deep. You had your body so close to his, but you clung on, holding on to him as tightly as you could.

If this was a one time thing. If you went back to just being Y/n and Minghao; best friends, partners in crime, this moment was a moment you wanted to remember forever.

This moment was one that could possibly change your whole life, good or bad, and you weren't ready to let go just yet.

{thirty seven}

#minghao #seventeen #svt #fic #series #imagine #scenario #last house #ltotl #36 #jos corner of the world

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Its Too Hot in this Five Star Hell Hole (Javier Peña x OC)

hey all, back again! This time with a Javi fic, and the first smut i’ve written in weeeell over a decade lol. hope you all like it, lemme know what you think!

Pairing: Javier  Peña x OC Warnings: thigh riding (i am shameless), sex in a car (v. uncomfortable, i have stories), daddy kink, fingering, abuse of Oreos Rating: damn, i guess mild M? Word Count: 6046 Summary: There’s a generational gap when it comes to work attire, and Oreo cookies, and she is determined to not find the asshole sitting next to her attractive. She fails miserably.

“Murphy was right you know,” Peña remarked, legs stretched out before him, one arm hanging out of the window of his Jeep, the other draped over his lap. His fingers kept drumming rhythmically on the inside of his thigh and the action had drawn the attention of his companion for the past hour and a half. She was frustrated and wished he would stop.

“What was he right about?” she asked, deliberately looking away from the hand that had again moved closer to his crotch. She looked down at the canvas bag on the floor at her feet and shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for what felt like the hundredth time since this stakeout had started. She saw her partner’s head turn languidly to face her out of the corner of her eye, his eyes still hidden behind those aviators that he thought were just so cool. She would never tell him that she secretly agreed. His ego was large enough already.

“You look like a college coed on spring break right now.” Peña remarked, mustache twitching up in a tiny smirk. She scowled at her beat up Converse. “I hope we don’t have to actually arrest anyone today- they’ll never believe for a second that you’re DEA.”

“Yeah, well,” she bent down to open her bag and dig around in it. “This is what happens when you call me in to an ‘emergency meeting’ on my day off.” With a quiet noise of triumph she pulled out her prize and shoved her bag further into the foot-well, before kicking her feet (with their beat up black high tops) onto the dash. Peña, still looking at his partner, was torn between staring at her mostly bare legs, now on display before him like some sort of divine offering, or staring at the package she was picking up again.

“Those are incredibly short shorts, Vic,” he finally settled on, eyes bouncing back and forth between legs that had only recently lost their northern, fish belly white color and her lap where she was eagerly tearing open familiar blue foil. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised- now wait a minute. I have to ask. Did you seriously manage to bring a package of Oreos to this stakeout but not your work clothes?” Vic looked up at him with a grin, hand in the package of chocolate cookies and shrugged.

“Number one: I was already dressed for the day when you and Murphy called me in. This is how I dress normally. This is me. On my days off. It’s literally five thousand degrees here, you’re lucky I even put on shorts THIS long. And I managed to grab a shirt so quit your whining. Jeez, never figured you, of all people, for a prude.” Peña was about to protest multiple things that had just been tossed in his direction when she held up a hand and continued, “And number two: I had just grabbed my mail when you called, so I already had these in my bag. I didn’t make a separate stop.”

Peña blinked at her, digesting this as she pulled out a cookie.

“You got cookies in the mail?”

Vic stared intently at the Oreo in her hand as she slowly, painstakingly, twisted the two chocolate wafers in opposite directions, pulling them apart gently as she did so. Peña watched as the cookies started to come apart before the bottom one shattered and crumbled into four pieces in Vic’s hand. She swore quietly and shoved the mess she had made of it into her mouth and pulled out another one. She examined it closely, twisting and turning it, looking for any cracks or blemishes in the wafer as she chewed quickly. Swallowing, she replied,

“You can sometimes, and I mean rarely, find Oreos down here. They’re normally stale and broken and they generally cost about as much as Escobar makes in a day.” She held a cookie in the palm of her hand and turned to face her partner, offering it to him. He raised an eyebrow at it and took it slowly. She grabbed another from the package and repeated her examination as she continued, “But you can NEVER find the double stuffed ones. So my brother ships them to me. These are mana from heaven, better than any coke, better than any sex you’ve ever had. Honestly, if given the choice between most cocks in the world and a couple double stuffed Oreos, I would take the Oreos no question.” Peña snorted and both eyebrows shot up this time.

“Oh really?”

She smiled at the cookie in her hand, having found no weaknesses that might hinder her mission.

“A dick can be replaced by quite a few things. A real life, fresh, Oreo cookie is one of a kind.” Peña shook his head at her, cookie still in between his fingers.

“Clearly you haven’t met the right cocks.” Vic attempted to pull apart the cookie the same way she had before, with the same results. With an annoyed huff she ate it whole again.

“Wha,” she mumbled around the cookie in her mouth, searching the package for a likely candidate. “You offawin’?” He smiled, twirling his cookie around.

“Maybe after you swallow that thing.” Vic flipped him off. “And that’s my shirt, just to be fair, not yours.” He gestured with the Oreo at the overly large blue button down Vic wore, tails tied at her waist, sleeves rolled up, to hide how comically big it was on her. She looked away from the cookies and down at herself, plucking at the front of it.

“The shirt I have under it is mine.”

“And also especially inappropriate for a meeting with the American ambassador to Columbia.”

Vic rolled her eyes and returned to her mission.

“Whatever. Again, it’s a million degrees here, and the humidity is twelve thousand percent, I’m ripping the sleeves off of every tee shirt I own, Springsteen or no.” Peña was about to take a bite out of the cookie he had taken from her when she gasped, horrified, and yanked his hand away from his mouth. He startled, looking around at the street they were supposed to be watching. He didn’t see anything and was about to tell her so when he turned and saw her glaring at him, holding the cookie up and shaking it at his face accusingly.

“You don’t take a bite out of an Oreo! Don’t you know how to eat a fucking cookie?!” He stared at her, blinking slowly.

“What.” Vic rolled her eyes before quickly yanking the two halves of the Oreo apart and holding up the half that had retained most of the cream, pointing at it with her pinky.

“Cream first! Then cookie! God, how old are you.”

She proceeded to demonstrate and Peña felt his mouth go dry and a bead of sweat slip slowly down his back. With one long steady lick, followed by a few quick hard ones, Vic cleaned the cream off of one wafer before moving to its counterpart and repeating the process. She finished with a smile and a loud smack of her lips, twisting her head to clean off the side of her hand where some of it had smeared. She was about to lean back in her seat before her eyes caught on his hand and she grabbed it, yanking it closer to her mouth.

Peña saw clearly what was about to happen and really did try to protest, but before he could get more than a grunt out, Vic had the end of his index finger in her mouth and he felt her tongue wrap around it, sucking gently. He watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she drew back with a quiet popping noise and released his hand, now clean of any evidence of Oreos. He cleared his throat, still staring, as she stuck the two halves back together and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

“Wike tha,” she said, mouth full, hands reaching again for the package on her lap. She offered it to him with a little shake and smiled when he took one. She turned back to the street before them as he continued to watch her, the new cookie held absently on his lap.

Well that was an unfortunate reaction, he thought to himself, a little surprised at how much he had enjoyed watching the younger woman demonstrate how to eat a cookie like a toddler. That was just obscene- he reached down and tried to stretch out the denim over his crotch. No, not obscene, Peña, you’re just a dirty old man who needs to calm down and get back to work. He shook his head and ate the whole cookie before she could take it from him and do that again.

Next to him Victoria Eugenia Flanagan was panicking quietly, staring determinedly out the window, pretending that she had not just done what she had, in fact, just done. We fucking talked about this, Victoria, she berated herself silently, not seeing anything in front of her. He is your partner, and he’s a slut, you can’t ruin that relationship and you don’t want the clap. Vic sighed heavily and bent down to stow the Oreos back in her bag. Hands to yourself. That was the deal you fucking moron.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, silence that wasn’t exactly awkward, but definitely not in the realm of completely comfortable either. Peña reached behind his seat and pulled an olive green canteen into his lap, unscrewing the top and smacking her arm with it gently. She shot him a brief smile as she took it, grimacing at the warm metal taste of the water and handing it back. She heard him drinking but dug her nails into her own palm to remind herself that turning around to watch his Adam’s Apple bob slowly as he swallowed was counterproductive to her new goal of forgetting that she had ever deeply and passionately desired to ride Javier Peña hard and put him away still dripping. Not as tall as Murphy, smokes too much, drinks too much, flirts too much, breaks too many rules, wears stupid boots, sleeps with too many hookers, Vic tried listing out everything that should be a barrier to her actually leaning over and sticking her hand down her partner’s pants, but the silence was beginning to become oppressive and it was just so hot in this car and this was supposed to be her day off and she hadn’t had any company but her own hands since she came to Columbia five months ago and-

“What do you miss most about the states?” The question was out of her mouth before she even realized it, and she still wasn’t looking at him. “I miss The Golden Girls. Damn that’s a funny show.” She was going to take her gun out of the holster under her arm and shoot herself in the foot when she eventually got back to her apartment. That would be less humiliating then what she just allowed to come spilling out of her dumb mouth.

“Excuse me?” Peña asked after a few moments of silence as Vic contemplated how long it would take her to physically run the distance back to New York City and never have to look him in the eyes ever again.

“You know,” Oh god she was still talking. There were more words coming out of her mouth right this second and she could not seem to make them stop. “The Golden Girls. The TV show?”

“Was that the one with Beatrice Arthur?”

“Yes! That one! With the old ladies and being retired in Miami and stuff?” Vic couldn’t help it anymore. She had to. She couldn’t just sit here and not for however many more hours they were stuck here. She turned back around in her seat, legs twisting on the dash and faced her partner with a smile. Peña made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes raked over her, from bare legs, all the way up her body to where both her tee shirt and his dress shirt had ridden up with her twisting about, exposing a not insignificant section of soft skin that hadn’t yet lost its paleness. Vic knew where his eyes had gone, his sunglasses were not that opaque, and she knew that the professional, responsible thing to do would be to yank her shirt down and cover her stomach back up. But the sun felt nice on her skin for now, until it started burning, and she liked that he was staring. She liked that he noticed that she was a woman. That just because she shot a gun and swore and drank beer with him and Murphy didn’t mean she wasn’t subject to the same whims and urges as other women. And apparently the deep seated desire to destroy her fucking career over an emotionally unavailable asshole with a great ass. If that isn’t the height of femininity I don’t know what the fuck is. But this is fine. This is still flirting. Kind of. Mostly.

“I uh-“ Peña cleared his throat, eyes roving slowly from exposed stomach, across breasts and up to her face. He smiled that crooked smile that sent the secretaries a-twitter and leaned further back into his seat, fingers scratching at the steering wheel in front of him. “I’ve only caught a few episodes of that. It wasn’t on for very long before I shipped down here from Texas.”

“You’re definitely a Dorothy,” Vic declared, grin widening as one of his eyebrows appeared over his glasses. “Oh you so are. You’re sarcastic, you’re smart, and you so heroically bear the burden of tolerating Steve and I. Even though most of the time you want to strangle your two gringo partners.” Peña made a thoughtful noise, hand that wasn’t at the wheel coming up to scratch at his mustache.

“Alright fine, who’s Murphy then?” Vic drummed her fingers on her stomach, unintentionally drawing his attention this time. This was better, if she had something to occupy her brain and her mouth she was less likely to offer to suck her partner’s cock and ruin her life.

“Rose. Blonde, a little simple, big hearted, and incapable of keeping his mouth shut,” she replied with a grin, and then laughed as she imagined what Steve Murphy would look like if she ever said that to his face. Peña smiled with her.

Vic thought that that might be the end of that and was a little relieved that nothing too terrible had happened as a result of her inability to just sit still and ignore her unfortunate attraction to the asshole next to her. She had kept her hands to herself this time. She hadn’t said anything ridiculous, she hadn’t thrown herself at him, this was fine.

“So does that make you Blanche by default?” Peña asked quietly, smile shifting into an expression she had seen him use to get forms stamped and women of all walks of life to remove their panties faster.

Turns out it was not fine.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she tried to hedge, sliding her legs off the dash. “I wouldn’t really call myself a Blanche.”

“I would,” Peña countered.

“You calling me a slut, pal? Because I live directly above you, and I’m not sure I can count high enough to put a number to your bed partners this month,” she tried to tease, hoping to get him off the subject of her and on to the subject of whatever local prostitutes he’d managed to lure in with promises of American visas in exchange for information.

“You jealous, Vic? Cause I can always make room for a friend.” Vic snapped her mouth shut, hard, on the nearly instant assent that wanted to come out. She took a few seconds to breathe before countering,

“You couldn’t afford me, Peña. I expect at least breakfast the next morning; some money from Uncle Sam just wouldn’t cut it.” The grin he favored her with was nearly savage in its intensity and she just knew that this game was going to end  with her on her back if she didn’t regain a little more control over this situation. She was starting to ask herself why she bothered to try and stop such an inevitability. They were adults, weren’t they? This didn’t necessarily have to be bad. Right?

He shifted closer, leaning over the gear shift and she heard him draw a breath to say something.

“Fucking hell, look,” he ordered, all business again. Vic turned her head and looked out the window, not seeing anything other than a few mothers with strollers, an old man shuffling in front of an apartment building, and a group of kids playing soccer in the street.

“I don’t…” she shook her head and looked over her shoulder at him, shrugging.

“Right there, behind those kids. The other kids.” Peña pointed over her shoulder and huffed angrily when she shook her head again. He continued to point as he leaned even further into her space.

This was very much not fine.

He smelled like sweat and cigarettes and cologne and that man smell that she was pretty sure was just him. The smell that used to get under her skin and itch and irritate- a sliver of a smell, she could get used to it if she held perfectly still and thought really hard about something else but the second she lost her concentration and jostled it pain and the knowledge that it was still burrowed under her nail went shooting up her spinal cord and into her brain. She hated that smell. She hated what that smell did to her. She hated that she sometimes caught whifs of individual components of that smell on other people, on the wind, in a room and her eyes started searching for him. She hated that after a shootout that smell smothered her twitching nerves and calmed her down. She hated that after seeing another informant turn up dead, body mangled, that smell soothed her long enough for her to get herself under control again. She hated the smile that smell brought to her lips. She hated the heat that smell sent to her insides, the tingling between her legs, the fluttering of her walls.

She hated that she couldn’t even lie to herself. She loved every single one of those things.

This heat had betrayed her for the very last time. This was the last straw, as soon as they caught Escobar she was requesting a transfer to anywhere where it snowed all year round. They had drugs in Canada, right? She spoke French. Canada would be fine.

She had thrown her long hair into a bun this morning to keep it off her neck and to keep it from suffocating her and she had never regretted any decision she had ever made in her life quite as much as she did that one. If she was being honest with herself, and damn this was becoming a habit that she hoped she never indulged in ever again after today, the only reason she hadn’t melted into a puddle of whimpering, overstimulated DEA agent in front of him as soon as his large, rough hand came into contact with the back of her neck, squeezing almost as hard as she wanted it too, was because his other hand was holding her head up by her chin, tilting her face in the direction he wanted her to look. She had no reservations in her mind that she was in control of most of her body and her body’s reactions any longer. Vic was now completely just along for whatever ride her lady parts decided to take with him pressed up entirely too close behind her. Close enough that every time she breathed her shoulder brushed his chest. Every time he breathed she felt it disturb the strands of hair that had begun to escape the confines of her hair tie.

One of those breaths sent a shiver through her entire body and Vic’s eyes rolled a little back into her head. One fist clenched her knee and the other dug into the grey seat underneath her. Every single one of those reactions was noticed and cataloged behind bronze aviators by two dark brown eyes. And Peña tightened the hold he had on the back of her neck.

“Those kids are watching the street and using that radio to let Escobar know which cops are patrolling where. Just like Murphy said they were,” he said quietly, still not relinquishing his hold on her. Even though they had gotten what they had come here for. They could go back to the embassy and tell Murphy he was right. They could plan how to either get around this new roadblock or work with it.

He still was not letting go. And Vic still was not asking him to.

Fuck. Everything.

He squeezed again, gently, rubbing his fingers over the soft skin at the sides of her neck and Vic gasped, hands spasming from their positions of relative safety.

“Tell me to stop, Victoria,” Peña ordered quietly, voice rumbling through her and flowing over her ears from where his mouth was too close to the side of her head. “Tell me to stop right now and we can pretend this never happened and go back to where we were before.” His other hand left her chin and caressed down the front of her neck to her chest, slipping beneath the buttons of her button down and palming her breast through her tee shirt.

She should say stop. She knew this was a terrible idea, if anyone found out she would lose any respect she may have managed to earn for herself from her male colleagues. He would, too. He would stop and he wouldn’t make a big thing of it, they could leave and she could go home and take care of the problem that was staring to soak her panties by herself, as usual, no harm done.

He managed to find a nipple through both tee shirt and bra and pinched gently and that was that.

“I swear to god, Javier Peña, if you stop right now I will murder you in your sleep.”

He tugged her back into him by the grip he still had on the back of her neck and she looked up at him as he pulled his sunglasses off, tossed them on the dashboard, and leant down to kiss her.

His lips were soft. That surprised her, considering everything about the man screamed hard-ass. His mustache tickled her bottom lip as she continued kissing him from this frankly terrible angle, but she didn’t care that her neck was getting sore or that the gear shift was digging into her lower back. Peña held her in place, one hand on her neck, the other leaving her breasts to first deftly unbutton and then untie her shirt, finally burrowing under her tee shirt. She gasped into his mouth, one hand leaving the seat where she had braced herself to come up to the side of his face as his bare hand settled onto her stomach and petted gently.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and her other hand left the seat to hang onto the wrist draped across her, feeling the tendons and muscles contract and relax under his skin as he stroked her, before he finally backed off slightly to allow her to catch her breath, his teeth nipping at her lips as he retreated. He met her green eyes with his, their brown depths somehow darker, and he grinned.

“Those really are some fine tasting cookies.” Vic stared up at him, panting gently, for a few seconds before his words made it past her ears and into her brain. She glared up at him and struggled to sit back up, abdominal muscles clenching under the hand that was still under her shirt.

“You’re an asshole. And you taste like cigarettes.” He was still smiling as she turned all the way around in her seat to face him fully, his hands slipping off of her and landing in her lap where he wasted no time in wrapping them around her waist.

“Good thing I've noticed you like my cigarettes.” She sniffed and looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vic yelped suddenly, grabbing his arms as he took the opportunity to drag her across the car, hindered briefly by both of her legs and the gear shift, getting a knee to the stomach, and finally into his lap. And what a mighty fine lap it was. Vic settled herself onto his thigh, legs folded along side his own, and watched his chest as he breathed, mostly bared thanks to his habit of only buttoning about half of his shirt buttons. She reached up to run her fingers over his neck like she had dreamed of doing pretty much since she had met him.

Or rather, she tried to reach him. She felt the now loose tail of her button down get caught between her seat and the shifter, preventing her from wrapping her arms around his neck. She yanked a few times, before slumping back onto his leg.

“A little help here?”

Peña slid his hands up her back under the shirt and tugged, freeing the pale blue fabric before helping her out of it completely, tossing it onto the back seat behind them. Vic, finally liberated, dove for his lips again, one hand at the side of his long neck, the other tangling in his dark hair. Peña groaned into the kiss, his hands on her ass, squeezing and trying to shift her closer to his body. Vic complied, moving her lips across his face to his ear, and moaning softly when her shuffling put her clit in direct contact with what had to be an uncomfortable erection in Javi’s very very tight jeans. She rutted against him, enjoying his hands on her ass, moving her steadily, his quiet grunts in her ear as she did so, and most of all the feeling of his cock rubbing against her, warm and large through his pants.

“Javi, baby, please,” she gasped, nose tuning into his cheek as he thrust up against her as he brought her down against him. “Javi-” she was sweating in this monster of a truck, and she could feel him breathing hard under her. Vic tried to sit up and slide further back on his leg only to find her back pressed against the steering wheel. She wriggled around, elbow knocking into the car door, trying to find a more comfortable way to seat herself.

“This is a terrible fucking place-” she gasped as he flexed the thigh under her. “To do this, Javi.” Peña’s hands halted her squirming and he asked,

“You want to stop?” She shivered as he rocked her harder onto his leg, her back still pressed against the leather and metal of the steering column.

“That is definitely not what I was getting at.” He ‘hmmed’ and she leant back down for another taste of the cigarettes he had chain smoked during their search for Escobar’s juvenile informants.

She broke away from him and stilled, looking down at his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks. She began unbuttoning the rest of his buttons and Peña watched her, hands still holding on, rubbing and caressing her through her shorts as she worked. Finally able to open his shirt all the way, she dragged her hands down from his pecs down his sternum, and down to his stomach. She kneaded the slight paunch she had uncovered, leaning down again to kiss him, getting used to the scratchy brush of his mustache. She loved the evidence of his older, slower metabolism too often exposed to too much beer and tequila. It softened him up a little, fueled her dreams of cuddling with him on her couch after he had fucked the living daylights out of her. Mostly she just loved the soft skin contrasting with the coarse dark hair that started below his belly button and trailed down beyond the waistband of his pants.

Javi grumbled into the kiss as she grabbed a gentle handful of his tummy fat and rocked herself forward on his thigh. Her movements stuttered as the seam of her shorts rubbed directly over her clit and she cried out softly.

“Fuck girl, that’s it, just like that,” Peña encouraged, hands still guiding her movements, back and forth, head thrown back as her fingers kept digging into his stomach. He pulled her closer so he could lean his forehead against hers and one of his hands made its way to the front of her pants. He kissed her roughly as she stopped moving entirely, distracted, trying to undo his belt without looking. His fingers were deft however, and made quick work of both the button and zipper of her cutoffs, sliding into her panties, and finding their way to her now soaking slit.

Vic whined as he traced two fingers up and down her folds, never stopping long enough anywhere to be truly satisfying.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Peña asked softly, voice low, eyes dark. “What do you need?” Vic shifted her hips, bumping into the shifter, chasing his fingers, trying to get them back to literally anywhere at this point. “All you have to do is ask, I’m right here, ready and willing.” His lips found hers again as his fingers continued to stroke, and she felt like she was going to pass out, trying to breathe through both sensations.

“Javi, please, you have to,” she broke off to try and grab his hand to move it where she wanted it. He resisted. “Javi, please! More!”

“More what?” Her eyes found his and she shouldn't have been turned on by the hard look in them but damn, she loved in control Javier Peña, she didn’t care what that said about any latent kinks she might need to explore later.

“Daddy, please, I’ve gotta cum before we go back to base, you have to- '' her voice failed her as her brain caught up with the words tumbling out of her, that was not supposed to pop out of her mouth, that was supposed to stay buried in the fantasies she used to get herself off, alone, where the man thus addressed would never find out about them. Peña’s eyes widened and she felt his cock twitch under her and she moaned as he finally shoved two fingers into her and curled them slightly, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her clit.

Vic keened quietly at the sudden intrusion and stretch, her muscles not accustomed to feeling fingers not her own slipping in and out of her, and her head fell forward to his shoulder. The steering wheel dug into her back, and she turned her face into his neck and inhaled that smell she hated to love. Her hands kept massaging his soft stomach as he ordered, lips against her ear,

“Go on, girl, right now. On daddy’s fingers, I know you’ve thought about it before.” Vic gasped and reached one hand down and held his wrist in a vice grip, holding it steady, his fingers deep inside her cunt, and she rocked her clit down hard onto his hand. She felt more than heard his groan as she sighed,

“Javi,” and came over his hand, walls spasming tight around thick digits. She let go of his wrist and he thrust his fingers in and out again a few more times, riding out her orgasm with her before pulling them out completely, smiling fiercely at the whimper that made its way past her clenched teeth.

“There now,” Peña said, panting, removing his hand from her shorts and making his way to his belt that she had only managed to loosen slightly. “That wasn’t so bad. What have we been waiting for?” Vic watched as he slid the zipper of his jeans down and was about to reach for his cock when the radio on the dash crackled to life.

“Peña? Flanagan? You guys there?” Murphy’s voice floated into their humid world, breaking Vic’s concentration on her partner’s dick inches from her greedy hands, and eliciting a groan from Peña that was far from any of the more pleasant ones he’d loosed in the past few minutes. His head dropped onto her shoulder and he bit down gently.

“If we don’t answer him, he’ll assume we’ve been shot and come looking,” Vic pointed out, out of breath and still aroused, leaning her elbow on the window next to her. Peña’s nibbling teeth did nothing to help the little shocks that still shot down between her legs. “I don’t know about you,” she gasped as he moved from shirt to her bare neck, mustache rubbing where spit and teeth had been seconds previously. “But I would rather not look like you just had your hands down my pants when that happens.”

Javi sighed, mouth still attached to her neck, clearly contemplating how long it would take to fuck her in this car and how far away Murphy and Carillo were from their current position. Deciding that he didn't like the odds, he released the bit of skin he had been hanging on to and kissed the red mark gently. He sat up a bit and reached around her, grabbing the radio, pulling her closer to him and grinding up into her while he asked,

“Whats up, Murphy?” Vic stifled a gasp into his chest as the hard ridge of his cock rubbed against her still sensitive clit, bracing herself against the door and the hard wheel behind her, one hand going to the roof of the truck.

“You guys get anything?” Peña continued to thrust against her and hummed noncommittally.

“Yeah, same thing you thought, with the kids and everything- fuck.” He broke off and hissed as one of Vic’s hands left his belly and dug, nails first, into his side.

“What?” Murphy asked over the line. Peña took a second before answering.

“Nothing.” He halted Vic’s movements, slipping a hand into her back pocket and pulling her back along his lap. “We’re coming back to base now.”

“Alright guys, see you in a few.” Peña tossed the radio back on the dash and stared at Vic, capturing her gaze and bringing his hand up to tangle into the hair that was coming loose from her bun.

“We’re finishing this as soon as we make our reports. I’m taking you back to my place and I am going to fill up that tight cunt till the only thing you can remember is my cock, alright?” Vic swallowed, aware again of waves of arousal making their way through her insides, and the smell of sex in the truck. She nodded, eyes never leaving his impossibly dark ones. Well, you’ve already broken nearly all of your rules regarding this man, whats a little more sex between friends, she thought, eyes flicking down to his lips before meeting his again. She watched his tongue wet his lips slowly, before losing all semblance of willpower and leaning down to kiss him again, already getting used to the scratch of hair on her face.

“I think that's a really good plan, daddy,” she agreed, coming back up for air and lifting off his lap completely, half climbing, half crab walking over the gear shift and back to the passenger seat. She refastened her shorts and looked over to see his cock still straining the denim of his jeans, button undone and zipper almost all the way down. “Might want to do something about that though, Agent Tight Pants.” She gestured at his problem with a slightly smug smile. “Unless you’re planning on giving Murphy a show.” Javi snorted, reaching down to zip and button his pants.

“He wishes.”

#javier peña x reader #Javier Pena x reader #Javier Peña #javier peña #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x Reader #Javier Peña x reader #fanfic

[patriotsnet]

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her ­education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. ­Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-­shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-­inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a ­debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete ­Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.

[mrchalamet-mrstyles]

Shocking Leaked Video Shows Armie Hammer Cracking Open A Beer While Behind The Wheel

By:OK! Staff

Updated 34 minutes ago

Beer and driving are not two things to mix. So, has Armie Hammer completely lost it? 

In a frightening video obtained by OK! and believed to have been recorded around September 2020, the 34-year-old actor can be seen cracking open a can of beer while driving behind the wheel of a car. 

In the exclusive clip — which was taken on a cell phone and OK! has declined to publish — Hammer was wearing a gray T-shirt. After opening the alcohol and taking a sip, he said: “Sending love, boys.”

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This is the second disturbing video of the Hollywood star to leak. OK! also obtained a video of Hammer licking a mystery white substance while in the passenger seat of a friend’s car. He appeared to be wearing a similar outfit, before he ingested the mysterious powder and declared: “S**t’s getting weird!”

As Hammer was sporting short hair in mid-September, it looks like the videos were taken around the same time he posted an Instagram photo of himself with friend Adam Shankman. “Thank you @adamshankman for the covid safe work out … next time try to sweat more to make me feel better,” Hammer captioned a photo of himself wearing a green bandana, gray T-shirt and black shorts while smiling alongside the film director. 

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Recently, The Social Network star made headlines after alleged private messages from his Instagram account were leaked on social media. 

INSIDE ARMIE HAMMER & ELIZABETH CHAMBERS'S $5.8 MILLION HOME: SEE PHOTOS

The supposed messages, which date back to 2016, discuss kinky and dangerous sexual fantasies, including cannibalism.  

“I am 100 percent a cannibal. I want to eat you. F**k. That’s scary to admit. I’ve never admitted that before. I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it still warm,” the note reads. 

Another reads: “I’d chase you down and pounce on you so fast if you tried to walk away. You’ll need something strong to hold me back from you.”

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After the messages were leaked, writer Jessica Ciencin Henriquez — who was spotted with Hammer in September 2020 — shared her thoughts about the alleged explosive remarks on Twitter. 

“If you are still questioning whether or not those Armie Hammer DMs are real (and they are) maybe you should start questioning why we live in a culture willing to give abusers the benefit of the doubt instead of victims. 🤔 TW// sexual violence,” she wrote, attaching screen grabs of the alleged messages. 

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She added: “Because some of you made it to adulthood without knowing what this is. Abuse: cruel and violent treatment of a person or animal.”

After fans read the alleged messages, they were less than pleased with Hammer. “Wow. I think I’m going to be sick,” one person said, while a second added, “This guy has legit serial killer vibes. Yikes!” A third user commented, “Spill what you know. I didn't think I could experience shock at this point but apparently I can. Wtf?”

SOCIAL DISTANCING FOR GOOD: CELEB COUPLES WHO’VE CALLED IT QUITS DURING QUARANTINE

This wouldn’t be the first time Hammer — who shares two kids with estranged wife Elizabeth Chambers — has gotten candid about what he’s like in the bedroom. 

“Well, if you’re married to a feminist as I am, then it’s... I don’t know how much we can put here without my parents being embarrassed, but I used to like to be a dominant lover,” he told Playboy magazine in 2013. 

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“I liked the grabbing of the neck and the hair and all that. But then you get married and your sexual appetites change,” he said. “And I mean that for the better — it’s not like I’m suffering in any way. But you can’t really pull your wife’s hair. It gets to a point where you say, ‘I respect you too much to do these things that I kind of want to do.’”

The dad-of-two’s social media activity also went viral in 2017 when users found out that he liked a few tweets about BDSM and bondage. 

Hammer — who split from Chambers in July after 10 years of marriage — has been spotted with a couple of women, but for the most part, he has been trying to work on himself post-split. 

“I think like everyone else on the planet, I felt like the rug was ripped from under my feet,” he said about his time in quarantine. “And I felt like I could feel it happening in slow-motion, like the rug was just being ripped from my feet and I was falling face-first and I was gonna smash my face on the ground. I felt like I was in a state of like, free fall almost, like it was just, it was really difficult.”

At the time of publication, OK! was seeking comment from a rep for Hammer.

#armie hammer #king shit hm

[theadmiringbog]

I had a fragile but agreeable life: a job as an assistant at a small literary agency in Manhattan; a smattering of beloved friends on whom I exercised my social anxiety, primarily by avoiding them.

--

I wanted to make money, because I wanted to feel affirmed, confident, and valued. I wanted to be taken seriously. Mostly, I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.                

--

Conversation with the cofounders had been so easy, and the interviews so much more like coffee dates than the formal, sweaty-blazer interrogations I had experienced elsewhere, that at a certain point I wondered if maybe the three of them just wanted to hang out.                

--

They wore shirts that were always crisp and modestly buttoned to the clavicle. They were in long-term relationships with high-functioning women, women with great hair with whom they exercised and shared meals at restaurants that required reservations. They lived in one-bedroom apartments in downtown Manhattan and had no apparent need for psychotherapy. They shared a vision and a game plan. They weren’t ashamed to talk about it, weren’t ashamed to be openly ambitious. Fresh off impressive positions and prestigious summer internships at large tech corporations in the Bay Area, they spoke about their work like industry veterans, lifelong company men. They were generous with their unsolicited business advice, as though they hadn’t just worked someplace for a year or two but built storied careers. They were aspirational. I wanted, so much, to be like—and liked by—them.                

--

It was thrilling to watch the moving parts of a business come together; to feel that I could contribute.                

--

What I also did not understand at the time was that the founders had all hoped I would make my own job, without deliberate instruction. The mark of a hustler, a true entrepreneurial spirit, was creating the job that you wanted and making it look indispensable, even if it was institutionally unnecessary.                

--

I wasn’t used to having the sort of professional license and latitude that the founders were given. I lacked their confidence, their entitlement. I did not know about startup maxims to experiment and “own” things. I had never heard the common tech incantation Ask forgiveness, not permission.                

--

I had also been spoiled by the speed and open-mindedness of the tech industry, the optimism and sense of possibility. In publishing, no one I knew was ever celebrating a promotion. Nobody my age was excited about what might come next. Tech, by comparison, promised what so few industries or institutions could, at the time: a future.                

--

“How would you explain the tool to your grandmother?” “How would you describe the internet to a medieval farmer?” asked the sales engineer, opening and closing the pearl snaps on his shirt,                

--

Good interface design was like magic, or religion:                

--

The first time I looked at a block of code and understood what was happening, I felt like nothing less than a genius.                

--

Anything an app or website’s users did—tap a button, take a photograph, send a payment, swipe right, enter text—could be recorded in real time, stored, aggregated, and analyzed in those beautiful dashboards. Whenever I explained it to friends, I sounded like a podcast ad.                

--

four-person companies trying to gamify human resources                

--

... how rare the analytics startup was. Ninety-five percent of startups tanked. We weren’t just beating the odds; we were soaring past them.                

--

While I usually spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling and worrying about my loved ones’ mortality, he worked on programming side projects. Sometimes he just passed the time between midnight and noon playing a long-haul trucking simulator. It was calming, he said. There was a digital CB radio through which he could communicate with other players. I pictured him whispering into it in the dark.                

--

At the start of each meeting, the operations manager distributed packets containing metrics and updates from across the company: sales numbers, new signups, deals closed. We were all privy to high-level details and minutiae, from the names and progress of job candidates to projected revenue. This panoramic view of the business meant individual contributions were noticeable; it felt good to identify and measure our impact.                

--

Was this what it felt like to hurtle through the world in a state of pure confidence, I wondered, pressing my fingers to my temples—was this what it was like to be a man?                

--

I was interested in talking about empathy, a buzzword used to the point of pure abstraction,                

--

The hierarchy was pervasive at the analytics startup, ingrained in the CEO’s dismissal of marketing and insistence that a good product would sell itself.                

--

He just taught himself to code over the summer, I heard myself say of a job candidate one afternoon. It floated out of my mouth with the awe of someone relaying a miracle.                

--

As early employees, we were dangerous. We had experienced an early, more autonomous, unsustainable iteration of the company. We had known it before there were rules. We knew too much about how things worked, and harbored nostalgia and affection for the way things were.                

--

The obsession with meritocracy had always been suspect at a prominent international company that was overwhelmingly white, male, and American, and had fewer than fifteen women in Engineering.                

--

For years, my coworkers explained, the absence of an official org chart had given rise to a secondary, shadow org chart, determined by social relationships and proximity to the founders. Employees who were technically rank-and-file had executive-level power and leverage. Those with the ear of the CEO could influence hiring decisions, internal policies, and the reputational standing of their colleagues. “Flat structure, except for pay and responsibilities,” said an internal tools developer, rolling her eyes. “It’s probably easier to be a furry at this company than a woman.”                

--

“It’s like no one even read ‘The Tyranny of Structurelessness,’” said an engineer who had recently read “The Tyranny of Structurelessness.”                

--

Can’t get sexually harassed when you work remotely, we joked, though of course we were wrong.                

--

I was in a million places at once. My mind pooled with strangers’ ideas, each joke or observation or damning polemic as distracting and ephemeral as the next. It wasn’t just me. Everyone I knew was stuck in a feedback loop with themselves. Technology companies stood by, ready to become everyone’s library, memory, personality. I read whatever the other nodes in my social networks were reading. I listened to whatever music the algorithm told me to. Wherever I traveled on the internet, I saw my own data reflected back at me: if a jade face-roller stalked me from news site to news site, I was reminded of my red skin and passive vanity. If the personalized playlists were full of sad singer-songwriters, I could only blame myself for getting the algorithm depressed.                

--

As we left the theater in pursuit of a hamburger, I felt rising frustration and resentment. I was frustrated because I felt stuck, and I was resentful because I was stuck in an industry that was chipping away at so many things I cared about. I did not want to be an ingrate, but I had trouble seeing why writing support emails for a venture-funded startup should offer more economic stability and reward than creative work or civic contributions. None of this was new information—and it was not as if tech had disrupted a golden age of well-compensated artists—but I felt it fresh.                

--

I had never really considered myself someone with a lifestyle, but of course I was, and insofar as I was aware of one now, I liked it. The tech industry was making me a perfect consumer of the world it was creating. It wasn’t just about leisure, the easy access to nice food and private transportation and abundant personal entertainment. It was the work culture, too: what Silicon Valley got right, how it felt to be there. The energy of being surrounded by people who so easily articulated, and satisfied, their desires. The feeling that everything was just within reach.                

--

We wanted to be on the side of human rights, free speech and free expression, creativity and equality. At the same time, it was an international platform, and who among us could have articulated a coherent stance on international human rights? We sat in our apartments tapping on laptops purchased from a consumer-hardware company that touted workplace tenets of diversity and liberalism but manufactured its products in exploitative Chinese factories using copper and cobalt mined in Congo by children. We were all from North America. We were all white, and in our twenties and thirties. These were not individual moral failings, but they didn’t help. We were aware we had blind spots. They were still blind spots. We struggled to draw the lines. We tried to distinguish between a political act and a political view; between praise of violent people and praise of violence; between commentary and intention. We tried to decipher trolls’ tactical irony. We made mistakes.                

--

I did not want two Silicon Valleys. I was starting to think the one we already had was doing enough damage. Or, maybe I did want two, but only if the second one was completely different, an evil twin: Matriarchal Silicon Valley. Separatist-feminist Silicon Valley. Small-scale, well-researched, slow-motion, regulated Silicon Valley—men could hold leadership roles in that one, but only if they never used the word “blitzscale” or referred to business as war.                

--

“Progress is so unusual and so rare, and we’re all out hunting, trying to find El Dorado,” Patrick said. 

“Almost everyone’s going to return empty-handed. Sober, responsible adults aren’t going to quit their jobs and lives to build companies that, in the end, may not even be worth it. It requires, in a visceral way, a sort of self-sacrificing.” 

Only later did I consider that he might have been trying to tell me something.                

--

Abuses were considered edge cases, on the margin—flaws that could be corrected by spam filters, or content moderators, or self-regulation by unpaid community members. No one wanted to admit that abuses were structurally inevitable: indicators that the systems—optimized for stickiness and amplification, endless engagement—were not only healthy, but working exactly as designed.                

--

The SF Bay Area is like Rome or Athens in antiquity, posted a VC. Send your best scholars, learn from the masters and meet the other most eminent people in your generation, and then return home with the knowledge and networks you need. Did they know people could see them?                

--

I couldn’t imagine making millions of dollars every year, then choosing to spend my time stirring shit on social media. There was almost a pathos to their internet addiction. Log off, I thought. Just email each other.                

--

All these people, spending their twenties and thirties in open-plan offices on the campuses of the decade’s most valuable public companies, pouring themselves bowls of free cereal from human bird feeders, crushing empty cans of fruit-tinged water, bored out of their minds but unable to walk away from the direct deposits—it was so unimaginative. There was so much potential in Silicon Valley, and so much of it just pooled around ad tech, the spillway of the internet economy.                

--

Though I did not want what Patrick and his friends wanted, there was still something appealing to me about the lives they had chosen. I envied their focus, their commitment, their ability to know what they wanted, and to say it out loud—the same things I always envied.                

--

I wanted to believe that as generations turned over, those coming into economic and political power would build a different, better, more expansive world, and not just for people like themselves. Later, I would mourn these conceits. Not only because this version of the future was constitutionally impossible—such arbitrary and unaccountable power was, after all, the problem—but also because I was repeating myself. I was looking for stories; I should have seen a system. The young men of Silicon Valley were doing fine. They loved their industry, loved their work, loved solving problems. They had no qualms. They were builders by nature, or so they believed. They saw markets in everything, and only opportunities. They had inexorable faith in their own ideas and their own potential. They were ecstatic about the future. They had power, wealth, and control. The person with the yearning was me.                

--

could have stayed in my job forever, which was how I knew it was time to go. The money and the ease of the lifestyle weren’t enough to mitigate the emotional drag of the work: the burnout, the repetition, the intermittent toxicity. The days did not feel distinct. I felt a widening emptiness, rattling around my studio every morning, rotating in my desk chair. I had the luxury, if not the courage, to do something about it.                

--

As I stood in the guest entrance, waiting for the stock plan administrator to collect the paperwork, I watched my former coworkers chatting happily with one another in the on-site coffee shop and felt, wrenchingly, that leaving had been a huge mistake. Certain unflattering truths: I had felt unassailable behind the walls of power. Society was shifting, and I felt safer inside the empire, inside the machine. It was preferable to be on the side that did the watching than on the side being watched.                 

#uncanny valley #books #best of

[phroyd]

I totally support all of the Liberal “Left” Proposals, and yet, this simple observation, the quote below,  is quite correct, and the body of this Opinion Piece shows the path Democrats should take in THIS particular election:

“ ... Not all elections are equal. Some elections are a vote for great changes — like the Great Society. Others are a vote to save the country. This election is the latter.   That doesn’t mean a Democratic candidate should stand for nothing, just keep it simple: Focus on building national unity and good jobs. ... “ 

- Phroyd

I’m struck at how many people have come up to me recently and said, “Trump’s going to get re-elected, isn’t he?” And in each case, when I drilled down to ask why, I bumped into the Democratic presidential debates in June. I think a lot of Americans were shocked by some of the things they heard there. I was.

I was shocked that so many candidates in the party whose nominee I was planning to support want to get rid of the private health insurance covering some 250 million Americans and have “Medicare for all” instead. I think we should strengthen Obamacare and eventually add a public option.

I was shocked that so many were ready to decriminalize illegal entry into our country. I think people should have to ring the doorbell before they enter my house or my country.

I was shocked at all those hands raised in support of providing comprehensive health coverage to undocumented immigrants. I think promises we’ve made to our fellow Americans should take priority, like to veterans in need of better health care.

And I was shocked by how feeble was front-runner Joe Biden’s response to the attack from Kamala Harris — and to the more extreme ideas promoted by those to his left.

So, I wasn’t surprised to hear so many people expressing fear that the racist, divisive, climate-change-denying, woman-abusing jerk who is our president was going to get re-elected, and was even seeing his poll numbers rise.

Dear Democrats: This is not complicated! Just nominate a decent, sane person, one committed to reunifying the country and creating more good jobs, a person who can gain the support of the independents, moderate Republicans and suburban women who abandoned Donald Trump in the midterms and thus swung the House of Representatives to the Democrats and could do the same for the presidency. And that candidate can win!

But please, spare me the revolution! It can wait. Win the presidency, hold the House and narrow the spread in the Senate, and a lot of good things still can be accomplished. “No,” you say, “the left wants a revolution now!” O.K., I’ll give the left a revolution now: four more years of Donald Trump.

That will be a revolution.

Four years of Trump feeling validated in all the crazy stuff he’s done and said. Four years of Trump unburdened by the need to run for re-election and able to amplify his racism, make Ivanka secretary of state, appoint even more crackpots to his cabinet and likely get to name two right-wing Supreme Court justices under the age of 40.

Yes sir, that will be a revolution!

It will be an overthrow of all the norms, values, rules and institutions that we cherish, that made us who we are and that have united us in this common project called the United States of America.

If the fear of that doesn’t motivate the Democratic Party’s base, then shame on those people. Not all elections are equal. Some elections are a vote for great changes — like the Great Society. Others are a vote to save the country. This election is the latter.

That doesn’t mean a Democratic candidate should stand for nothing, just keep it simple: Focus on building national unity and good jobs.

I say national unity because many Americans are terrified and troubled by how bitterly divided, and therefore paralyzed, the country has become. There is an opening for a unifier.

And I say good jobs because when the wealth of the top 1 percent equals that of the bottom 90 percent, we do have to redivide the pie. I favor raising taxes on the wealthiest Americans to subsidize universal pre-K education and to reduce the burden of student loans. Let’s give kids a head start and college grads a fresh start.

But I’m disturbed that so few of the Democratic candidates don’t also talk about growing the pie, let alone celebrating American entrepreneurs and risk-takers. Where do they think jobs come from?

The winning message is to double down on redividing the pie in ways that give everyone an opportunity for a slice while also growing the pie sustainably.

Trump is growing the pie by cannibalizing the future. He is creating a growth spurt by building up enormous financial and carbon debts that our kids will pay for.

Democrats should focus on how we create sustainable wealth and good jobs, which is the American public-private partnership model: Government enriches the soil and entrepreneurs grow the companies.

It has always been what’s made us rich, and we’ve drifted away from it: investing in quality education and basic scientific research; promulgating the right laws and regulations to incentivize risk-taking and prevent recklessness and monopolies that can cripple free markets; encouraging legal immigration of both high-energy and high-I.Q. foreigners; and building the world’s best enabling infrastructure — ports, roads, bandwidth and basic social safety nets.

Ask Gina Raimondo, Rhode Island’s governor, and my kind of Democrat. She was just elected in 2018 for a second term. In both her elections she had to win a primary against a more-left Democrat. When Raimondo took office in 2015, Rhode Island had unemployment near 7 percent, and over 20 percent in some of the building trades.

“When I ran in 2014, there was a temptation to appeal to particular constituencies — gun safety, choice, all things that I believe in,” Raimondo recalled. “I resisted that temptation because I felt the single greatest issue was economic insecurity and people who were afraid they were never going to get a job. So I said there are not three or four issues, there’s one issue: jobs.” Unemployment in Rhode Island today is about 3.6 percent.

Raimondo has faced a constant refrain from critics on her left that she is too close to business. “I created an incentive program for companies to get a tax subsidy if they created jobs that pay above our state’s median income or jobs in advanced industries,” she noted. “I have cut small-business taxes two years in a row since 2015. I am not ashamed of any of that.”

Because, she continued, “I listen to people every day, and you hear what they are worried about. People say to me, ‘Governor, I just got a real job.’ And I’d ask them, ‘What is a real job?’ And they’d say, ‘It’s a job where I can support my family with real benefits.’ So I named our state job-training program ‘Real Jobs Rhode Island.’”It will be impossible to “sustain a vibrant democracy with this level of inequality.”

The right answer is to reinvigorate the key elements of a healthy public-private partnership, said Raimondo: higher taxes on wealthier people, more investments in affordable housing, infrastructure and universal pre-K, and empowering the private sector to create more real jobs — “so that no one who is working full time at any job should have to collect Medicaid and need food stamps to make ends meet.”

Concluded Raimondo: “I am no apologist for a brand of capitalism that leads to unsustainable inequality. But I do believe a more responsible capitalism is necessary for growth. We need to redivide the pie and grow the pie. I am a ‘pro-growth Democrat.’ I am for growing the pie as long as everyone has a shot at getting their slice.”

That’s a simple message that can connect with enough Democrats — as well as independents, moderate Republicans and suburban women — to win the White House.

Thomas L. Friedman is the foreign affairs Op-Ed columnist. He joined the paper in 1981, and has won three Pulitzer Prizes. He is the author of seven books, including “From Beirut to Jerusalem,” which won the National Book Award. @tomfriedman 

Phroyd

#election 2020 #trump #democrats

[anthonychiozza]

The Genocide Of The Innocent: Reprint From 12/19/15

    Written by: Anthony Chiozza

Hearing about babies dissected alive could lead one to despair easily. Those that are still in touch with their own soul feel an anger, and deep pain that can not be adequately communicated with the pen. Children of God for Life’s facebook page states the following: “Dr. Ian Donald explained what he witnessed at Karolinska Institute to Fr Paul Marx at HLI several years ago: Experiments were being performed on near-term alive aborted babies who were not even afforded the mercy of anesthetic as they writhed and cried in agony, and when their usefulness had expired, they were executed and discarded as garbage.” Difficult words to read for those with a soul. (1) For the record, the Karolinska Institute is located in Sweden. (2) However, the United States, Planned Parenthood, and the citizens of this country have enough blood on their hands as well, as revealed by the recent Planned Parenthood “scandal.” The only scandal that I am aware of is that millions of babies have been exterminated for years.

    There are not enough human tears to be wept that can make up for the atrocities committed against the weakest of the human species. Perhaps you have considered that I sound more like a humanist than a Catholic, but let me assure you that I fully expect God’s wrath to pour out upon this disgusting, “modern” society sooner rather than later. Some people hear, “God’s Wrath,” and they assume that this is some kind of evil God that enjoys punishing people. My theology might be off on this, but in any case, this is how my perception of this concept works itself out in my mind. God loves us so much that He weeps while having to destroy us, because we have rejected His love. If we think back to Scripture Jesus sheds tears on Jerusalem. His own people did not accept His Love, and Rome would decimate the city precisely as Jesus prophesized. Further, God’s Chastisements can also lead many to repent before death, and spare them an eternal death in hell.

For the record, I used to vote for politicians that murder babies. I was once  a full functioning member of the “Culture of Death,” in almost every regard. I have, through God’s mercy, had the good fortune to be slapped awake by Him, and I confessed those sins. These are just some of my sins, but how many pretend there is some subtle discussion to have about voting for millions of babies being slaughtered, while weighing the economic pros and cons? This cannot be considered clear reasoning. Considering if one should vote liberal to stop war is a more valid line of reasoning to follow, but also a line of reasoning that ultimately fails. Surely, liberals would continue to vote democrat if we were murdering Jews at home, but wanted to avoid killing others in wars abroad? I can hear the discussion now. “Well it is true that ‘Feel the Burn’ Sanders and Hillary want to keep murdering Jews in our country, but at least people won’t die in war abroad.” There is no subtle discussion to be had here.

    War is upon us, and it has been upon us for a long time, and many lives will be lost in war. Even under supposedly liberal leadership the slaughter of war continues, and whose fault is that? Those that have held the reigns of power in the past are guilty. Specifically, the Bush administration, which was fully stocked with a gaggle of neoconservatives. We cannot leave out Hillary Clinton, as she voted for the unjust war as well. The neocons didn’t listen to Saint John Paul II when he said they could not go to war in the middle east! “John Paul has insisted that war is a "defeat for humanity" and that a preventive strike against Iraq is neither legally nor morally justified.” (3)

     News flash for the Liberals out there laughing at the Neocons’ clouded reason, and disobedience to the Holy Father. Democrats have supported genocide much longer than any Republican Neocon, that didn’t listen to the Pope concerning the wars in the Middle East. This is not an excuse for the Bush administration’s disobedience to the Pope, but an important theological point! War is a punishment for the very crimes Liberals continue to support, by voting for leadership that is willing to sacrifice babies at Lucifer’s alter. When Our Lady of Fatima appeared to three shepherd children she confirmed Scripture, that war is indeed a punishment for sin. (4) (5)

    Again, why do Liberals continue to vote this way even though many of them are Catholic?  This vote is in trade for some false perception of economic advantage, or a misguided line of reasoning thinking we will spare lives by preventing war. I hear the emotional counter arguments now: “But if the economy is better, women will kill less babies.” Studying the statistics it does seem that the majority of abortions are happening for a lack of affordability. However, upon further investigation of the reasoning behind these decisions, and breaking down the data into subcategories, one must admit that affordability is highly subjective in the mind of the individual. The following statistics began being collected in 1986 and were published in 2005.

“Nearly three-quarters said they could not afford to have a baby.

Of those women who gave two or more answers, the most common response -- inability to afford a baby -- was most frequently followed by one of three other reasons:

Pregnancy/birth/baby would interfere with school or employment.

Reluctant to be a single mother or experiencing relationship problems.                       Done with childbearing or already have other children/dependents.

Below is

a breakdown of women's responses that

specified reasons that led to their abortion

decision

(percentage total will not add up to 100% as multiple answers were permissible):

74% felt "having a baby would dramatically change my life" (which includes interrupting education, interfering with job and career, and/or concern over other children or dependents)

73% felt they "can't afford a baby now" (due to various reasons such as being unmarried, being a student, inability to afford childcare or basic needs of life, etc.)

48% "don't want to be a single mother or [were] having relationship problem[s]" (6) (8)

  Only one reason listed seems to actually correlate with, “inability to afford a baby.” That reason is, “inability to afford basic needs of life.” The rest seem to be highly westernized ideas about “affordability.” There are women in dire poverty all around the world having babies, including the United States. For the sake of argument I will admit it is possible that these other categories might include some legitimate economic reasons, but that, of course, does not excuse the sin. When the statistics are broken down further we begin to get a clearer picture that these reasons are westernized reasons. Only twenty-three percent of abortions are because of affordability. Sixty-six percent of these abortions are happening for reasons other than affordability and that is without the health of the mother, or rape included! (7) In fairness two categories, or more, could be chosen by the woman filling out the form. Sixty-six percent is the best estimate that can made.  The percentage could be less.

Why Women Have Abortions:

The reasons they gave in 2004

25% Not ready for a(nother) child/timing is wrong

23% Can't afford a baby now

19% Have completed my childbearing/have other people depending on me/children are grown

8% Don't want to be a single mother/am having relationship problems

7% Don't feel mature enough to raise a(nother) child/feel too young

4% Would interfere with education or career plans

4% Physical problem with my health

3% Possible problems affecting the health of the fetus

<0.5% Was a victim of rape

<0.5% Husband or partner wants me to have an abortion

<0.5% Parents want me to have an abortion

<0.5% Don't want people to know I had sex or got pregnant

6% Other (7)

   Did voting Democrat ever stop 23% of these babies from being murdered? It would be interesting to break the statistics down further and see if the number of abortions in that category rose during the years of Democratic presidents. We obviously know that babies were murdered for that reason, in those years despite the numbers, so voting Democrat will never stop this from happening.  We always hear from Liberal Left about how much the government cares for everyone. Why don’t they care enough to use tax money to save babies instead of funding their genocide? Catholic Democrats hold up a magic economic key and argue they can stop allowing genocide, or at least most of it, if you will just vote for their party. I can hear the conversation with them continue, “We can save some of the Jews, even though we are the ones throwing them in the ovens, if you just vote for our party.”

    Turning back to the Republican side of the isle, can any Catholic clearly give me Donald Trump’s position on abortion? He seems to be all over the place.(9) Right now, apparently, it is not ok to kill babies in the Don’s mind, except for certain situations. This flies in the face of his previous position of being pro-abortion. He wouldn’t consider defunding Planned Parenthood, but maybe he will now? Who really knows? (Update: Thank God for President Trump. Could he still be critiqued? Yes, but he has done more than any other sitting POTUS that I can recall.) 

     Meanwhile we have candidates like Rand Paul, willing to stand on the Senate floor for hours filibustering, in order to defund Planned Parenthood! How can Conservative Catholics even seriously consider Trump when there are candidates that are more experienced, in regards to defending the country, and trying to save the unborn? Not only are they experienced, but they have proven they will fight the good fight! If Rubio shows up he might fight, I don’t know, probably not...I digress...The story recently broke that Planned Parenthood will be fully funded. Go back and read Dr. Donald’s witness testimony about babies screaming in pain as they are torn apart.

    What should Catholics be doing other than praying the rosary, to end this nightmare? I have personally heard at least two Priests, and read on EWTN that it is a mortal sin to vote for someone that supports abortion. The voters guide on EWTN by Father Taraco, Ph.D. states, “Except in the case in which a voter is faced with all pro-abortion candidates (in which case, as explained in question 8 above, he or she strives to determine which of them would cause the let damage in this regard), a candidate that is pro-abortion disqualifies himself from receiving a Catholic’s vote. This is because being pro-abortion cannot simply be placed alongside the candidate's other positions on Medicare and unemployment, for example; and this is because abortion is intrinsically evil and cannot be morally justified for any reason or set of circumstances. To vote for such a candidate even with the knowledge that the candidate is pro-abortion is to become an accomplice in the moral evil of abortion. If the voter also knows this, then the voter sins mortally.” (8)I would respectfully recommend that Trump supporters click the link in the source list below to the Catholic Answers article and consider if they are making the right moral decision weighing all the other candidates positions.

    It would follow that a good Catholic would make a prudent decision, even if they were still unsure, and follow what these good sources of Catholic teaching are saying. Unfortunately, Catholics in the United States continue to march us backwards into darkness. It would be impossible for politicians that condone the genocide of babies to be elected in this country if Catholics would actually be Catholic. For some inexplicable reason they choose not to follow the Church, but their own wills, desires, and political leanings. If only they were obedient like the Queen Mother Mary, to her Son, they might not only find that abortions end, but that the economy would also improve. Perhaps we might get more worthy candidates to vote for on both sides of the narrow political spectrum in this country as well! How many Catholics will continue to do their will and not the Father’s Will?  For now, “we the Catholic people,” seem to want more bread and circus in exchange for the blood of the innocent. Update 1: Ladies and Gentleman, I have a serious question, and thought experiment. Apparently the five non negotiables are not Catholic teaching when it comes to voting. Pope Benedict said, in a letter, that one could vote for a pro-abortion candidate, but NOT because they are pro-abortion. I can find nothing that carries the weight of encyclical that says otherwise. However, I still feel in my heart, very strongly, that it is wrong to vote for a pro-abortion candidate. My thinking relies on a statement from Pope John Paul II: "That is the dignity of America, the reason she exists, the condition of her

survival, yes, the ultimate test of her greatness: to respect every human person,

especially the weak and most defenseless ones, those as yet unborn."

-Pope John Paul II 

I feel Saint Pope John Paul II's desire for America will never be accomplished here if Catholics are free to vote for pro-abortion candidates because they like other parts of that candidates platform. The analogy I think of to explain this to people follows as: Do you think everyone would be trying to make the best choice while people are being marched off to the ovens and just kind of toss their hands and their air, and say, "Well, I don't agree with them burning those Jews, but they have a great economic policy, so I'll vote for them." Anyway, these are just my thoughts on why I think it should not be allowed for Catholics to ever vote for a pro-abortion candidate, but I accept that I am probably wrong. My heart tells me never to vote that way personally. Thanks for the thoughtful consideration. I offer my sincere apologies to those Catholics that choose to vote for pro-abortion candidates. God bless.

Update II: A good friend of mine sent me another article today from a Priest on the issue of abortion. I feel it is important for everyone to form their conscience appropriately on this issue. I would respectfully ask that everyone read this, whether conservative, or liberal. When Pope Benedict said it would not be a grave evil to vote for a pro-abortion candidate, it was in the context of a letter. This is far from an encyclical, or words spoken from the Chair of Peter. This was his opinion. While I respect his opinion, and believe he was a great Pope, my heart tells me he is very wrong. A Pope is a man as well, and can be mistaken in matters of the Faith. Even a great Pope like Benedict. It is important that we all SERIOUSLY consider our position on this issue before casting a vote that could possibly send us to hell. I am so concerned about this, specifically because of the salvation of my soul, and other souls, I am considering writing a second piece on abortion and voting. Please pray for my soul. LINK: https://www.thecatholicthing.org/2016/03/03/can-catholics-support-a-pro-abortion-candidate/

​Citations:

Debi Vinnedge, President and Executive Director, “Children of God For Life,” Nov. 9, 2015, accessed Dec. 17, 2015, https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=905776096177162&id=223315007756611&fref=nf&pnref=story

(2) Dr Cecilia Götherström, Associate Professor, “Unique stem cell brittle-bone study starts,” Oct. 12, 2015 0 2:00 EST, accessed Dec. 17, 2015,

http://news.cision.com/karolinska-institutet/r/unique-stem-cell-brittle-bone-study-starts,c9844692

(3) Associated Press, “ Vatican Strongly Opposes Iraq War,” March 12, 2003, accessed Dec. 17, 2015, http://www.foxnews.com/story/2003/03/12/vatican-strongly-opposes-iraq-war.html

(4) Father Nicholas Gruner, “ Part I – The Urgency of the Fatima Message,” unkown, acessed, Dec. 19, 2015,

http://www.fatima.org/books/divimp/dichap1.asp

(5) Catholic Answers Staff, “ Does God Send War As Punishment For Sin,” unknown, accessed Dec. 19, 2015,

http://www.catholic.com/quickquestions/does-god-send-wars-as-a-punishment-for-sin

(6)  Lawrence B. Finer, Lori F. Frohwirth, Lindsay A. Dauphinee, Susheela Singh and Ann M. Moore “Reasons U.S. Women Have Abortions :  Quantiative and Qualitative  Perspectives,” September 2005, accessed Nov. 17, 2015,

https://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/journals/3711005.pdf

(7) Gudrun Shultz, “The Real Reason Women Choose Abortion,” unkown, accessed, Dec. 19, 2015,

http://www.actionlife.org/index.php/life-issues/abortion/item/124-the-real-reason-women-choose-abortion

(8) Linda Lowen, “Why Women Choose Abortion - Statistical Breakdown of Reasons For Abortion,” Dec. 16, 2014, accessed Dec. 17, 2015, http://womensissues.about.com/od/reproductiverights/a/AbortionReasons_2.htm

(10) Fr. Stephen F. Torraco, PhD, “A Brief Catechism for Catholic Voters,” 2002, accessed Dec. 17, 2015,

https://www.ewtn.com/vote/brief_catechism.htm

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:(Statue)_Stop_Abortion._University_of_Ilorin.jpg#mw-jump-to-license

Women’s Rights Photo: Kenneth John Gill

(9) Bethany Blankley, “Donald Trump’s Abortion Muddle,” Dec. 5, 2015, accessed Dec. 18, 2015,

#prolife #Catholic #Marchforlife #Abby Johnson #AbbyJohnson

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

The partial government shutdown is beginning to drag on President Trump’s approval rating, which is at its lowest point in months. As of early Wednesday evening, his approval rating was 40.2 percent, according to our tracking of public polling, down from 42.2 percent on Dec. 21, the day before the shutdown began. It’s his lowest score since last September. And Trump’s disapproval rating was 54.8 percent, up from 52.7 percent before the shutdown. His net approval rating, -14.6 percent, was at its lowest point since February 2018.

There shouldn’t be much doubt that the shutdown is behind the negative turn in Trump’s numbers. While there have been other newsworthy events over the past few weeks, such as turnover among Trump’s senior staffers and a wobbly stock market, the shift is well-timed to the start of the shutdown on Dec. 22. Trump’s approval ratings had been steady at about 42 percent for several months before the shutdown. Since then, they’ve been declining at a fairly linear rate of about half a point for every week that the shutdown has been underway, while his disapproval rating has increased by half a point per week. Trump’s increasingly negative ratings match polling showing Americans growing concerned about the shutdown and disliking Trump’s handling of it. In a Marist College poll that was released this week, for example, 61 percent of respondents said the shutdown had given them a more negative view of Trump, while just 28 percent said they felt more positively toward him.

So all of that sounds pretty bad for Trump. But will any of it really matter to Trump’s political standing, in the long run?

The glib answer is “probably not.” We’re a loooong way from the presidential election. And presidential approval ratings, as well as those for congressional leaders, typically rebound within a couple of months of a shutdown ending. A shutdown in October 2013 that caused a steep decline in ratings for congressional Republicans didn’t prevent them from having a terrific midterm in 2014, for instance.

Also consider the insane velocity of the news cycle under President Trump. If the shutdown were to end on Feb. 15, and special counsel Robert Mueller’s report on the Russia investigation were to drop the next day, would anyone still be talking about the shutdown?

Moreover, there hasn’t been that much of a shift, so far. In the context of the narrow historic range of President Trump’s approval ratings, which have rarely been higher than 43 percent or lower than 37 percent, a 2-point shift might seem relatively large. But it’s still just 2 points, when many past presidents saw there numbers gyrate up and down by 5 or 10 points at a time.

But I wonder if that answer isn’t a little too glib. There are some reasons for Trump and Republicans to worry that the shutdown could have both short- and long-term downsides.

For one thing, there’s no particular sign that the shutdown is set to end any time soon. And if the decline in Trump’s approval rating were to continue at the same rate that it has so far, it would take his political standing from bad to worse. By Jan. 29, for example, the day that Trump was originally set to deliver the State of the Union address before House Speaker Nancy Pelosi disinvited him from addressing Congress, his approval rating would be 39.3 percent, and his disapproval rating would be 55.9 percent. By March 1, at which point funding for federal food stamps could run out, his approval rating and disapproval rating would be 36.9 percent and 58.4 percent, respectively, roughly matching the lowest point of his presidency so far.

In addition, because this is already the longest shutdown in U.S. history, past precedent for the political impact of shutdowns may not be fully informative. There’s the possibility that the shutdown ends not with a whimper (with Trump caving or with he and Pelosi anticlimactically reaching a compromise) but instead with a literal or proverbial bang, such as the government bungling a response to a natural or man-made disaster.

A prolonged shutdown could also materially affect the economy, although there could be some catch-up growth later. A temporary decline in GDP or consumer confidence probably wouldn’t affect Trump’s re-election, although a long-term decline obviously would.

Despite those possibilities, I’d still put a lot of weight toward our historical priors, which contain relatively good news for Trump. With almost 22 months to go until the election, it’s too early for either approval ratings or economic data to be highly predictive of a president’s re-election chances. Furthermore, approval ratings tend to rebound after shutdowns, and in any event, the decline in Trump’s numbers hasn’t been all that large, yet.

Nonetheless, if I were hoping for Trump’s re-election, there are two indirect reasons that the shutdown and its fallout would worry me. One has to do with his relationship with the congressional GOP; the other with his strategic posture toward his re-election bid.

The shutdown may have frayed Trump’s relationship with Republicans in Congress

Republican leaders in Congress didn’t want the shutdown in the first place. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell and former Majority Whip John Cornyn originally thought they’d talked Trump out of shutting down the government — “I don’t know anybody on the Hill that wants a shutdown, and I think all the president’s advisers are telling him this would not be good,” Cornyn told Politico on Dec. 18 — before Trump shifted strategies in response to right-wing pressure.

Meanwhile, two of the most vulnerable Republican senators — Colorado’s Cory Gardner and Maine’s Susan Collins — have called for an end to the shutdown. Another, North Carolina’s Thom Tillis, has called for a compromise with Democrats on the border wall and DACA, a deal that the White House rejected last year.

So it isn’t entirely surprising that Republicans in both the House and the Senate have starkly and sometimes sarcastically critiqued Trump’s shutdown strategy.

Congressional Republicans are not a group Trump can easily afford to lose. They have a lot of power to check Trump’s presidency, from modest measures such as treating his Cabinet nominations with more scrutiny to extreme ones like supporting his impeachment and removal from office. Obviously that’s getting way, way ahead of ourselves, and Trump’s approval ratings remain very strong among Republicans for now. That may constrain how much members of Congress push back against the president. But the conventional wisdom is arguably too dismissive of the possibility of an inflection point. Richard Nixon’s approval ratings had been in the low-to-mid-80s among Republican voters for years, but they suddenly fell into the 50s over the course of a few months in 1973. He resigned in August 1974.

The shutdown has prompted Trump to double down on his all-base, all-the-time strategy

But if Trump wants to get re-elected, his biggest problem isn’t what Republicans think about him; it’s what the rest of the country does.

The lesson of the midterms, in my view, was fairly clear: Trump’s base isn’t enough. The 2018 midterms weren’t unique in the scale of Republican losses: losing 40 or 41 House seats is bad, but the president’s party usually does poorly at the midterms. Rather, it’s that these losses came on exceptionally high turnout of about 119 million voters, which is considerably closer to 2016’s presidential year turnout (139 million) than to the previous midterm in 2014 (83 million). Republicans did turn out in huge numbers for the midterms, but the Democratic base — which is larger than the Republican one — turned out also, and independent voters strongly backed Democratic candidates for the House.

Plenty of presidents, including Obama, Clinton and Reagan, recovered from poor midterms to get re-elected. But those presidents typically sought to pivot or “triangulate” toward the center; we don’t know if the political rebound occurs if the pivot doesn’t. Instead, Trump has moved in the opposite direction. Despite some initial attempts at reaching out to the center, such as in passing a criminal justice bill in December and issuing trial balloons about an infrastructure package, Trump’s strategy of shutting down the government to insist on a border wall was aimed at placating his critics on the right, such as Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter, and members of the House Freedom Caucus.

Maybe Trump took some of the wrong lessons from 2016. Trump may mythologize 2016 as an election in which he was brought into the White House on the strength of his base, but that isn’t necessarily why he won. And even if it was, trying to duplicate the strategy might not work again:

Trump probably won’t face off against an opponent as unpopular as Hillary Clinton, by some measures the most unpopular candidate in general election history except for Trump himself.

He won’t necessarily be the preferred candidate for voters who are on the fence between Trump and his opponent. (In 2016, voters who disliked both Clinton and Trump went for Trump by 17 points.)

If he’s pursuing policies such as shutting down the government to demand a border wall, swing voters may no longer see Trump as a moderate, as (somewhat contrary to the conventional wisdom) they did in 2016.

Trump might or might not benefit from the same Electoral College advantage that he had in 2016.

And he probably won’t have an FBI investigation against his opponent reopened 10 days before the election.

Given that, perhaps 2018 is a better model for 2020 than 2016. In the midterms, voting closely tracked Trump’s approval ratings, and he paid the price for his unpopularity. According to the exit poll, midterm voters disapproved of Trump’s performance by a net of 9 percentage points. Not coincidentally, Republicans also lost the popular vote for the House by 9 percentage points.

There’s plenty of time for Trump’s numbers to improve, but for now, they’re getting worse. So while the shutdown’s consequences may not last into 2020, it has been another step in the wrong direction at a moment when presidents have usually pivoted to the center.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #Nate Silver

[huckleberrycomics]

Car Thief ch 45

I done did it folks!

Have a new chapter of Car Thief.

Fiddleford H. McGucket was having a fine day, thank you very much.

He’d dropped Tate off at daycare and went straight to his therapy appointment. He’d started out by going twice a week, then once a week, and about a month ago he only went once every other week. His medication was working. He was working through his problems.

He talked a bit about rejoining the workforce, and maybe reconnecting with a few colleagues. He had his hands full with being a parent, Delilah worked part time and he would often stay home with Tate or drive him to daycare in the morning to save her some time and energy. He loved spending time with his son.

Delilah had become his friend, again. That was… wonderful. Being her friend was better than being her husband a million times over.

He was happy.

Mostly.

He arrived at the therapist’s office with five minutes to spare, and made small talk with the secretary.

“Mornin’, Ms. Wong,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I’m here to see Dr. Braverman.”

Ms. Wong smiled at him. “It’s nice to see you, Fiddleford. You’re looking very well.”

“I certainly feel well!” he said cheerily. “Anything new with you?”

“I’ve been officially accepted as a PhD candidate,” she said, “I’m very much looking forward to pursuing therapy further.”

“You’ll be an excellent therapist,” he said. “The mental health of the American public is in good hands.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Why don’t you have a seat? Dr. Braverman will be with you in a few minutes.”

He sat, and he read his book for five minutes before he was called into the therapy office. He still got the sharp pang of anxiety in his stomach when his name was called, even after all this time. He took a deep breath and walked into the office.

Dr. Braverman sat him down in one of the comfy chairs, and she sat across from him. “Good to see you, Fiddleford.”

“Good to see you,” he said.

She was a sweet woman. Fiddleford felt completely at ease with her. “How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you,” he said. “My mood has been much better, and so have my nightmares. I’ve been much more productive lately, and I’ve been going out more often. Mostly I’ve been spendin’ time with Tate an’ Delilah. It’s been overall real pleasant.”

He got a small twinge in his stomach at what was unsaid. He glanced away from Dr. Braverman.

She tilted her head and adjusted her glasses. “You look like something is troubling you.”

“Nothing special,” he said, twiddling his fingers. “I just… I miss my friend Stanford Pines. An’ my other friends, too. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from ‘em. I just hope they’re okay.”

She nodded, her eyes compassionate. “You’ve told me about your falling out, but nothing about the details. Is that something you’d like to talk about today?”

“Honestly? The details escape me,” he said, fibbing just a little. “It wasn’t pretty, that’s all I can say. One bad mistake ruined somethin’ real nice that we all had together. Hell, the four of us were a family. A real family.”

“It sounds like you miss them a lot,” she said.

“I do,” he said. “But… well, part of me is ready to try an’ call, try an’ figure out where it all went wrong and what we can do to fix it. Part of me ain’t sure. I feel like I’m gonna say the wrong thing an’ put my foot in my mouth.”

“Well,” said Dr. Braverman, straightening her shoulders. “How long have you been thinking of doing this?”

“Too long,” he said. “Months.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?” she said. “Would you be hurt in any way if it went badly?”

“No,” he said. “Not physically.”

She smiled gently. “Would you be putting yourself in danger?”

“No. Stanford ain’t like that.”

“What would the worst case scenario look like?” she asked.

He bounced his knee, looking at the floor between them. “I… well, maybe we’d fight. That would be bad, but I don’t think I’d be worse off than I am, now.”

“Alright,” she said. “Now how about the best case scenario. What would happen if everything went off without a hitch? How would this turn out in an ideal world?”

“We’d make up and I’d move back up to Gravity Falls,” said Fiddleford. “I miss them all so much.”

“Do you think it’s worth the risk?” she said.

“I do,” he admitted with a sigh. “But… I don’t know what I’d say! How do I apologize? How can we possibly go back to where we were?”

“You can’t,” she said simply. “You just have to take stock and move forward. You can start a new version of your relationship, build a new version of your life. Things won’t be the same, but you’ll be older and wiser. It’ll be easier now that you know which mistakes to avoid.”

“That’s… well put,” he said. “Can we talk about what I might say?”

“Of course,” she said, “Whatever you think is going to help you the most.”

“Can I borrow a pen and paper to write this down?”

She smiled and handed him a notepad. “I’m very glad you’re doing this, Fiddleford. I think this is an important step for you.”

“I think you might be right,” he said. He wrote Stanford’s name at the top of the page.

Delilah was at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee when he got home from therapy. The kitchen was small, but the windows were wide open and warm light was flooding in. “Hey, Fidds. How was your appointment?”

“Good,” he said. He gave her half a smile. “I’m gonna do somethin’ today.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“I’m gonna call Stanford.”

Delilah’s smile fell slightly. “Oh?”

Fiddleford felt guilty. Conflicted feelings mixed in his stomach. “I’m… sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I know how important he is to you.” She sighed and set her coffee aside. “Fiddleford… I have to apologize myself.”

“What for?” he said.

“I… I feel awfully guilty,” she said. “Not just for leavin’ you, but for… insultin’ you the way I did.”

“When, specifically?” he asked, trying to tease.

Delilah grimaced. She pushed her hair behind her ear. “Specifically regardin’ your relationship with Stanford Pines and your… orientation.”

Fiddleford’s face flushed. “Delilah, that’s in the past.”

“But I never apologized,” she said. “We were already driftin’ apart when you went up to Gravity Falls. I think you knew it, too.”

“I did.”

She rested her cheek in her hand, her elbow on the table. “I was never very kind to you about who you are. I know you can’t help it. I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ about it and… the way I talked to you about it was wrong. It’s alright to like men and women. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with it, and I know I made you feel bad about it.”

Fiddleford was touched. He sat down at the kitchen table. “Delilah… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” she said, “But… dangit, Fidds, I’m glad to have you back in my life. I like having you as a friend.” She smiled at him and put her hand over his. “I feel like we work better this way.”

“I think so, too,” he said with a grin.

“I hope you can mend things with Stanford,” she said, patting his hand. “You deserve to have happiness in your life.”

“You do, too,” he said.

“I guess,” she said with an awkward smile. “We can talk about how much we like boys?”

Fiddleford laughed nervously. “Goodness, I don’t know where to start with that one.”

“Yeah, as I was saying it, it felt like a bad idea.”

Fiddleford laughed aloud. He stood up from the table. “Is there any coffee left?”

“Plenty,” she said. “Oh! I forgot to mention, I’ve got passes to go to the zoo.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Are you takin’ Tate?”

“I was thinkin’ the three of us could go,” she said. “It’ll be a nice surprise for when he gets home from school.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.” He gave himself cream and sugar, and took a sip. He took the list of things he wanted to say to Stanford out of his pocket and stared at it. He couldn’t shake the anxiety that knit itself firmly into his intestines.

“Whatcha got there?” Delilah asked.

“It’s what I’m gonna say to Stanford,” he said.

“I won’t pry,” she said, turning her attention back to her coffee.

Fiddleford’s list was simple. He planned to give that man an earful, apologize for his wrongdoings, ask for an apology back (Stanford would very often be reluctant to provide those), then ask if he could see him soon. He had it worked out as though he were giving an Oscar’s acceptance speech. He hoped that he wouldn’t bumble over his words.

Hell, let’s rip the bandaid off. He walked over to the telephone and dialled the number he knew by heart. “It’ll just take a few minutes, Delilah. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” she said, and she excused herself from the kitchen.

The phone rang. His heart thudded in his chest. The paper was sweaty in his fingers.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Finally, there was a click.

“Hello,” said the voice on the end. It was Stanford. The sound of his voice knocked the wind out of Fiddleford’s chest. His eyes teared up instantly. He missed that voice so much.

“Stanford,” said Fiddleford breathlessly. “It’s me, Fiddle-”

“You have reached the house of Stanford Pines,” said Ford’s pre-recorded voice on the other end. “Please leave a message after-”

“Hey,” chimed in another familiar voice. This time, it was Stanley. “Other people live here, too!”

“If you can call it living,” said Stanford exasperated. “Stanley, get out! Please leave a message after the beep with your name, phone number, and what you were-”

“Stanley, Rick, and Fiddleford also live here,” said Stanley. Fiddleford could hear the grin in his voice.

There was a burp in the background, and Fiddleford knew one hundred percent that it was Rick. “L-l-leave a message and go fuck yourself!”

“Rick, honestly!” came Fiddleford’s own voice.

“Guys, I have potential business partners who call this number!” said Stanford’s voice. “You can’t just- Oh, hell, how do I re-record-”

There was a beep.

Fiddleford was already laughing. How had he forgotten about that day? He laughed until his sides hurt and tears were rolling down his cheeks. He laughed until the laughter turned to sobs and hiccups.

After a few minutes, he sniffled, wiped his eyes, and redialled to leave a proper message. He snorted as the recorded message greeted him again.

“Stanford,” he said. “Sorry ‘bout that. I imagine you’re… creeped out by the brand-new laugh track I just gave ya. This is… this is Fiddleford.”

He looked at his speech in his hand. His sweaty fingers had smudged the ink. Hell.

“I just wanted to get in touch with you,” he said, crunching the paper in his hand. “I hope you’re alright.”

He gave his number, and he hung up.

Fiddleford called every day for two weeks with no reply. He had to admit that he was terrified.

His stomach folded knots all the time. He lay awake at night worrying. It wasn’t like Stanford to just… vanish. He was always there, always reliable. Hell, he thought that at least Stanley might be around, even though he tended to move around more.

He was terrified. He feared for the worst.

After three weeks, he knew what he had to do.

“Delilah,” he said, walking into the living room.

“Yes?” she didn’t look up. She was sitting on the carpet, playing with Tate.

He took a deep breath. “I have somethin’ important to ask of you. I hope you aren’t angry with me, but I’d understand if you were.”

“You have to go back to Gravity Falls,” she said, glancing up at him. “Don’t you?”

His shoulders relaxed. “Yes. I do.”

She smiled. “Travel safe. I hope Stanford is okay.”

“You… you’re not upset?”

“No,” she said, “I knew this would happen. I know you love your son and you don’t plan on abandoning us. I know you’re worried about your second family.”

Fiddleford let the relief wash over him. “Thank you, Delilah.”

“Are you already packed?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget socks. You always forget your socks.”

Fiddleford sheepishly tiptoed back into his bedroom to put socks in his suitcase. He came back with the suitcase in one hand and his car keys in the other. “I’ll get in touch as soon as I can, and you know I’ll write every week.”

Tate sat up and looked at him with big eyes. “Papa?”

“Kiddo,” he said, scooping Tate in his arms. “I’m gonna miss you, Tater-Tot.”

“Where you go?” he asked, his little baby hands resting on his chest.

“I have to go see my friends,” he said. “I miss them a whole lot, and I’m very worried about them. We had a big fight, and I need to make it up to them. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Mhm.”

“I love you, kiddo. Your mama is gonna take real good care o’ you.”

He nodded, then leaned up and pecked his cheek. “Love you, Papa.”

Fiddleford kissed the top of Tate’s head and lingered, his nose pressed into his soft brown curls. “I love you too, Tater-tot.” He set him back down on the carpet and ruffled his hair. “I’ll see you real soon, okay?”

He waved his pudgy hand goodbye as Fiddleford walked towards the front door.

“Hey, Fidds,” said Delilah.

Fiddleford paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

She wagged a finger at him. “You better call when you get there, alright? And you come visit soon. I won’t have our boy forgettin’ his father’s face.”

“Delilah,” he said firmly. “I promise I’ll be back. I swear.”

She let her hand rest on her knee. “Take care, drive safe.”

He smiled, and he waved goodbye as he shut the front door behind him.

#fanfiction #gravity falls #rick and morty #stanchez #fiddauthor #car thief #runaway writes #fanfic #gf #ram #fiddleford #rick sanchez #stanford pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan

[astraykidsdaydream]

opposites attract  lee felix .

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1.849K

pairings: reader x felix

requested?: yes

summary: you were upset when your teacher told you that you had to tutor the dumbest kid in your class, but you didn’t expect to have so much in common

author’s note: My last scenario got really good feedback so thank you all! Please request things for me to write about because I dunno what to write about. Hopefully, you all enjoy this!

Masterlist

You rolled your eyes at the fourth time your teacher told Felix Lee to be quiet. You didn’t understand people who didn’t pay attention during the lessons. It wouldn’t do them any good, so there was literally no point. You didn’t really pay attention to thw boneheaded kids that failed most of their classes, so you never really interacted. As you were doing your work, your teacher called you up to her desk. You just thought that she was going to congratulate you on one of your tests or something of that matter. However, you also saw Felix standing next to her rusty old wood desk and realized that it was probably about something different.

“Y/n, good to see you this morning,” your teacher stated while cleaning her glasses. You nodded your head and smiled. “Mr. Felix Lee’s parents called me and demanded that I find him a tutor since he’s doing so badly in school, so I think that you’ll be the perfect candidate.”

You and Felix both gave a disgusted look. You couldn’t believe that you would have to tutor someone as immature and stupid as Felix Lee.

“You want her to tutor me?” Felix scoffed. You gave him a dirty glare which he returned.

“Yeah, I don’t want to spend my time with scum like him,” you replied while crossing your arms.

Your teacher sighed, “Listen, I didn’t want t have to do this, but Y/n, if you don’t tutor Felix, I will have to suspend you.”

You gasped and looked at Felix who had a smug look on his face.

“Don’t be so smug, Felix, if you don’t get tutored by Y/n and get at least an 80% on your next exam, I will have no choice but to expel you.”

Felix’s eyes widened. He looked as if this actually affected him, but it didn’t seem like he cared much about school.

You groaned, “Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

Felix rolled his eyes, “Neither am I, princess, but I guess we’ll both just have to deal with it.”

You teacher sighed exasperatedly. She sent both of you back to your seats and continued her lesson. After class, Felix hesitantly approached you. You looked up from your desk and waited for him to say something.

“Hey, can I get your number so that I can text you about times we can have a study session?” Felix asked in his deep tone. If he wasn’t such an asshole, you might think that he was really cute, but that was not the case.

“Sure,” you replied back calmly. You took his phone and input your phone number. You handed him back his phone and took off without even a goodbye. You sighed and packed up your bag and went home.

The next day was Saturday morning. You sat at the kitchen counter when you heard your phone buzz.

Unknown: Hey this is Felix. U up for a study session 2day?

Y/N: Sure. Where do you want to meet?

Felix: My house @ 11?

Y/N: Sounds good. See you then.

You went upstairs and got ready to meet Felix. You put on some natural makeup and tried to pick out a somewhat decent outfit. You actually cared what Felix thought, but you didn’t know why. Once you got to Felix’s house, you saw that his house was actually really nice. The lawn was green, and there was a rose garden in the front. You were surprised to see such a nice lot because it didn’t seem like Felix would have such a suburban look. You walked up the steps of the front porch and rang the doorbell. A gorgeous Korean woman with the same freckles as Felix answered the door.

“Hello, you must be Felix’s new tutor,” she said while smiling brightly, “I’m his mom. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She reached out her hand for you to shake it which you did.

You smiled awkwardly and replied, “Yes, my name is Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

She let you inside where you saw the inside of the house was gorgeous. It looked like the house was specially designed by an interior designer. You looked around in awe at how clean and nice the house looked. You really didn’t expect the house of Felix Lee to look like this. You saw him come downstairs with his books.

He gave you a slight grin, “Hey, Y/n.” He approached you shyly which was weird because Felix was always confident and somewhat rude.

You just smiled and said, “Ready?”

He nodded, and you followed him into the office which was gorgeous just like the rest of the rooms. Just as you two were about to start studying, Felix’s mom popped into the room.

“Hey guys, Felix’s father and I are going to a work thing, so we’re going to leave you here to study. Have fun!”

You just smiled and nodded while Felix just ignored her.

“Okay, where do you want to start?” you asked Felix while pulling out all your textbooks and notes.

Felix just shrugged without an answer. You sighed in frustration but tried to keep your calm. “What’s your worst subject?”

“Probably chemistry,” he replied back quietly.

You nodded your head as you brought together all your chemistry stuff. You tried to explain everything as best as you could, but Felix seemed like his mind was somewhere else.

“Hey Felix, are you listening to me?” you asked with genuine concern in your voice. You tried to put your hand on his shoulder, but as soon as you got close, he brushed it away.

“Yeah, Y/n, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m just so sick of all this chemistry stuff. And I really didn’t want to be tutored by some overachiever,” he said bitterly.

You were hurt, and it showed on your face. You didn’t get mad at him because you knew that there was something wrong. “Felix, I promise that I’m here for you. I know that we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I want to help you.” You reached over and held his hand which this time, he didn’t pull away from.

Felix took a deep breath and began to speak, “My family has always had these super high expectations of me that I can’t fulfill. And I just have always felt so dumb because my parents are these super successful people, and I’m too stupid to ever be like them.” There were tears welling up in his eyes. In that moment, you felt so much sympathy for him because you had the same problem but in a different way.

“Felix, you are not stupid. You just think that you are and not having any confidence is making you think that you can’t do anything which makes you not be able to do anything. I promise if you just try harder and work for it, you are going to do great on those next exams. Plus, I’m one hundred percent here for you for anything you need help with.” You looked into his eyes and wiped his tears away. He hugged you which you did not expect, but it felt amazing.

“Y/n, thank you so much and I’m so sorry that I was such an asshole to you. You are such an amazing person even though you probably don’t understand what I’m going through, you are still here and supporting me.” Felix embraced you even tighter.

“Actually, even though I get good grades and am smart, I understand how it feels to have so many expectations put on your shoulders. My sister is this amazing superstar who is at Stanford studying to be a doctor, and my parents expect me to be the same way even though the stress is killing me.” Now your tears were starting to stream down your cheeks. Felix smiled and wiped your tears away just like you did for him. “Don’t worry Y/n, now you’ve got a friend in me and we can be here for each other.”

You smiled at him and replied, “For sure.” He hugged you tightly one last tine before you continued studying together.

For the next two weeks, you two constantly were always together prepping for the exams that were coming up. The night before the exam, you two met up one last time for a last minute study session. You sat across from each other at your dining table quizzing each other.

Felix looked up at you, “Y/n, I’m so nervous for these exams. This is life or death matter. If I don’t get higher than an eighty percent, I’m going to be expelled and also disowned from my house.” He looked extremely anxious.

You gave him a reassuring look, “I promise it’s going to be okay. You know everything that you need to know and you’re going to do great.”

He smiled nervously, “I never said this, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me the past few weeks. I feel so lucky to have had a tutor like you. I’m so grateful.”

You blushed a bright pink color. Your heart fluttered which you didn’t expect to happen. You didn’t want to develop feelings for him, but you did. However, you thought he didn’t feel the same way back.

The next day, you and Felix sat down to take your exams. He looked very fidgety and anxious which made your heart beat faster. The teacher handed out the exams and both of you started answering at lightning speed. Felix even managed to finish before you did which made you happy. Throughout the whole day, Felix was so anxious to find out his exam scores which were going to be announced the next day. You comforted him through the whole day which made you develop more and more feelings for him.

When the results were handed back the next day, your heart raced. You stared at Felix the whole time he looked over his results. All of a sudden, you saw the brightest smile appear on his face, and he raced over to you.

“Y/n, Y/n, I got a 97!” he shouted cheerfully. He picked you up in his arms and spun you around. This made you have what seemed like a million butterflies in your stomach. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He smiled but started blushing when you looked at him back. He looked into your eyes and locked his lips with yours. It was a soft and gentle kiss, and when he pulled away, you both were a bright pink color. “I’m sorry, Y/n, I don’t know what I was think---”

You interrupted him by pulling him into another kiss. Once you pulled away once more, you both shared the same bright goofy grin on your faces.

“By the way, you did better than me! I got a 96!” You giggled. He returned the same cute laugh and pulled you into an embrace which you both wanted to stay in forever.

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids felix #lee felix scenarios #felix #lee felix #felix scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids x reader #straysunshinesnet

[dr-archeville]

INDY Daily: Did a U.S. Senate Candidate Rip Off a Bunch of Farmers? Plus Feral Cats, Cont. and Development Plans Near West Point on the Eno

It’s Wednesday, September 1.

Thank you to our sponsor, Duke Performances.  Tickets are now on sale for the fall season, or you can join us for four free shows at the American Tobacco Campus.

Good morning, readers.

The Washington Post yesterday ran a story on the GOP's Trump-endorsed candidate for North Carolina's open U.S. Senate seat yesterday and it is truly wild.

Three-term U.S. congressman Ted Budd, who owns a shooting range near Winston-Salem and has positioned himself as a God-and-guns, friend-to-farmers type was embroiled in a family business scheme that ended in bankruptcy and cost famers across the country millions of dollars in losses.

The details are complex, but here's the gist: according to court documents, a trustee for farmers and other creditors alleges that Ted Budd's father, Richard Budd, improperly transferred millions of dollars in assets to family members, including Ted Budd, right before Richard Budd faced a $15 million judgement in a bankruptcy case for the company AgriBioTech.

The bankruptcy caused losses of millions of dollars for farmers, and in a settlement that followed, the Budds repaid only a small portion of the money back to their creditors.

Here's a quote from one such farmer from the story:

"We got screwed and there was not a freaking thing we could do about it. There was no way to fight multimillionaires," said Scott Scheuerman, a Wyoming farmer who had urged fellow growers to send their crop to the company, which had bought up dozens of processing plants. "We were the little guy. We were just a number, and they could care less about us."

In the story, the Budds (or Richard Budd, as Ted Budd declined to comment) say there were no fraudulent transfers of money and he doesn't seem to think the swindled farmers are owed an apology.

"Your attempts to tie my son to this business are dishonest and offensive," he told the Post. "I wish my personal efforts to save ABT had been successful, but they were not. I did my best, but in this case, my best was not enough to save ABT."

Asked whether Ted Budd ever disclosed the bankruptcy case to Trump or other key supporters, campaign adviser Jonathan Felts said that "Ted played no role at ABT and there is nothing to ‘disclose.’ " He said the claims by the trustee were "untrue allegations that are typical in that sort of litigation."

Felts acknowledged that Ted Budd was one of 11 people who signed as "co-makers" of a $10 million loan to AgriBioTech that later became the subject of the trustee’s lawsuit and declined to say whether any of Budd’s personal fortune of up to nearly $11 million was attributable to the funds allegedly transferred to him by his father.

Now, as he seeks a Senate seat, Ted Budd touts his work in family companies and as the owner of a shooting range, saying "I’ve spent my whole life in the business world."

But Ted Budd was a shareholder in the company, and the facts of the case seem to show that he received millions of dollars in assets before the bankruptcy case was settled. The case was so egregious that, following the AgriBioTech bankruptcy, Congress created a $35 million no-interest loan fund specifically to help the farmers who were affected (they could borrow up to 65 percent of what they were owed, the Post reports, so still were out millions of dollars).

To me, this all checks out. Trump is smart enough to sense one of his own, a self-serving grifter type who appeals to those who feel trodden on or left behind, all the while fleecing whoever he can for whatever they've got.

And while he's not the GOP frontrunner in this race yet (that's Mayor Pat), a $10 million cash infusion from the conservative group Club for Growth that's in the works should help him on his way.

Have a great Wednesday, everyone! Thanks for reading.

Like the INDY Daily? Share it with your friends and ask them to subscribe

The INDY Daily is made possible by the INDY Press Club, which is helping us keep fearless, independent local journalism viable in the Triangle.

[Durham mayoral candidate Elaine O'Neal.]

Orange County

UNC-Chapel Hill and the Orange County Health Department have identified COVID-19 clusters in three residence halls on campus: in Ehringhaus on the third floor; in Hinton James on the seventh and eighth floors; and in Parker on the third floor.

Decades after the desegregation of Chapel Hill-Carrboro City Schools, data show that disparities persist, with white students accessing more opportunities, and facing less discipline, than Black students.

At Carrboro High School, students formed the Black and Brown Students Coalition in part to try and address some of these disparities. The group's student founders are continuing the legacy of the Mighty Tigers, Lincoln High School's football player's and civil rights trailblazers.  Read Part III of Joel Sronce's series on the Legends of Lions Park.

A new Asian American Center opened on UNC's campus.

Durham County

North Durham residents want to stop a local custom home builder from developing hundreds of homes on the cusp of West Point on the Eno. They say the project was improperly rubber stamped, request the city to allow citizen input, and say that, if the project moves forward, it ultimately threatens to be an environmental nightmare.

Durham residents are uncovering their ancestral legacies in 30 of the county's old Black cemeteries.

In case you missed it, former Mayor Bill Bell, Durham's longest-serving mayor, endorsed Judge Elaine O'Neal in the race for Durham's next mayor.

Restaurateur Giorgios Bakatsias will open a new Southeast Asian-inspired restaurant in downtown Durham called Krill.

Shooter's Saloon, a bar popular with Duke students, has closed due to COVID until further notice.

[Photo from Unsplash]

Wake County

Following Mayor Mary-Ann Baldwin's joke about feeding feral cats at a Raleigh city council meeting last week, the city suspended a policy that's long been on the books that regulates feeding feral cats and ordered animal control officers to stop ticketing residents for doing so. An animal control officer was also placed on investigative leave regarding the matter.

In Wake County Public Schools, more than 600 students and 128 staff members have tested positive for COVID-19 since the beginning of August, mainly related to the system's year-round schools. Since the start of the traditional school year last week, 120 positive tests have been reported, including 100 in students in 20 in staff.

Op-Ed: Fuquay-Varina’s Black residents have asked the Town’s elected officials to make structural changes, to little response. At the polls this fall, they’ll have a chance to change who’s an elected official.

NC + Elsewhere

Freshman congressman Madison Cawthorn, who warned of more "bloodshed" following the Capitol insurrection, raised $1.7 million in political donations during the first six months of 2021 — by far the most among the state’s 13-member House delegation. Nearly 80 percent of that money came from donors who live outside of North Carolina.

Pickleball is getting popular in the Triangle.

Statewide COVID-19 by the numbers: Tuesday, August 31

5,351 New lab-confirmed cases (1,213,654 total; seven-day average trending up)

3,612 Current hospitalizations reported (seven-day average increasing; 14,468 total deaths, +56 over Monday)

26,543 Completed tests (15.85 million total; most recent positive rate was 14.6 percent)

10,514,513 Total vaccinations administered; 50 percent of population fully vaccinated; 60 percent of 18 years+ fully vaccinated (State data not updated daily)

Eat. Drink. Do.

Get out and about in the Triangle today. Got an Eat.Drink.Do Idea? Email us at [email protected]

Eat

Check out Cary's burgeoning dining scene: first stop, Pizzeria Faulisi.

Drink

Bull City Burger's Honeycutt Milk Stout won a silver medal in the N.C. Brewer's Guild's 2021 Brewer's Cup!

Do

It's trivia night at the Glass Jug in downtown Durham.

Today's weather

Cloudy with scattered rain and storms as the remnants of Hurricane Ida pass through. Highs in the upper 80s.

—Jane Porter— Send me an email | Find me on Twitter

If you’d like to advertise your business to the Daily's 33,000-plus subscribers, please contact John Hurld at [email protected].

Love the INDY Daily? Support it by joining the INDY Press Club.

#news #The INDY #NC

[recentanimenews]

INTERVIEW: Ladybeard Introduces BABYBEARD, The Kawaii Metal Pop Idol Group

  Few entertainers have had a career as varied as Ladybeard’s. The Australian performer has worked as a pro wrestler, an anime voice actor, and a death metal vocalist, all while wearing a frilly dress and pigtails. His latest role: singing and dancing as a member of BABYBEARD, the idol group he formed last year. Alongside petite co-members SUZU and KOTOMI, their names styled in all caps, Ladybeard’s formidable vocals complete the group’s kawaii metal vibe. 

  Though the covid pandemic has kept the trio from doing live performances, their knack for viral social media content has helped them share their peppy, positive, and frequently brutal music with the world. The result has been global; BABYBEARD’s first single, Nippon Kara Konnichiwa, was Number 1 on the J-pop charts in Germany and Finland, Number 2 in Australia, and Number 34 in the US the week of its release in April 2021. 

  We sat down with Ladybeard, SUZU, and KOTOMI for a video interview about the new group with Ladybeard’s manager, Shiori, translating the girls’ answers. Then, we talked to just Ladybeard about his pronouns, the pandemic, and what’s next for his eclectic career. 

    Orsini: How is your work with BABYBEARD different than the work you were doing before?

  Ladybeard: One of the things that is interesting about launching a group [during the pandemic] is that 100 percent of our activities so far have been over the internet. So the girls have actually interacted with fans overseas more than they’ve interacted with fans in Japan thus far. It’s a new experience for both of them. 

  KOTOMI: I was in a different group before BABYBEARD. We did in-person live performances. In this unit, we’re doing online stuff mainly and getting global attention. I’m really excited about the fact that we can stream online and get listeners from all around the world. 

  SUZU: I am actually really surprised to get a lot of attention from overseas fans. I’m excited to go to foreign countries and perform in the future. 

  Ladybeard: This is SUZU’s first group. I wish my first thing ever had been like this, instantly getting access to the whole world — I’m so jealous!

  What is the most unique skill that you bring to the group?

  SUZU: A huge smile.

  KOTOMI: I’m a huge otaku of idols. My enthusiasm and passion for idols is what I bring. [She’s a fan of the idol group Kamiyado.] 

  Ladybeard: I’ll PR the girls for a second. We held global auditions for this group, people were brought in from the entire world. Of course, who could seriously be considered was limited by who could physically get to Tokyo. The total number of applicants for the audition was 100, and then after the first cut, 52 made it to the first in-person audition. After another cut, there were 10 final candidates from which SUZU and KOTOMI were chosen.

  Very interestingly, SUZU was the first person through the door of the audition and KOTOMI was the last person through the door. SUZU came in with a beautiful smile, which was lovely, sang and danced and was a ray of sunshine. She set a very high bar and it wasn’t until KOTOMI came in that that level of brightness was matched. KOTOMI is a very good dancer and she blew us away. 

  And to answer your question, clearly what I bring to the group is this beard.

    For the girls, what were your first impressions meeting Ladybeard? What is it like working with him now?

  KOTOMI: I met Ladybeard for the first time in my audition. At the time I was so nervous I couldn’t remember what was going on. But he was very kind to me and I was really happy about that. He’s a really hilarious and cheerful person and I really enjoy working with him. 

  SUZU: When I met Ladybeard at first, I felt he was naturally energetic, cheerful, and friendly. That first impression has not been changed.

  Ladybeard: Poor SUZU gets elbowed in the head a lot, poor girl. Our pose is me flexing with the two girls on either side of me. And when we go through it, the three of us in a line, it’s always SUZU who catches an elbow. I feel so bad, she’s been elbowed several times. If I’d been repeatedly elbowed in the head, I’d be far less enthusiastic.

  Aside from flexing together, how do the three of you bond as a team?

  Ladybeard: Keep in mind that this is the main activity we’ve done together — sitting on Zoom. But we’ve started singing and dancing. The girls are very sweet. They’re both really hard working. 

  What is the creative process behind the videos you post to social media? Do you all add input?

  Ladybeard: Yes, it’s pretty collaborative. Actually, Shiori comes up with a lot of good stuff for TikTok. With her help, we now have two TikTok videos with 2.4 million views: “Physically fit” and “Magical girl transformation(LB cut),” and one YouTube short at 16 million views — “When the manager isn’t in.”

  Image via Suzu Nakayama

  What are your favorites?

  KOTOMI: “When the manager isn’t in."

  SUZU: “Hide and... FREAK!!” My mom said it was very cute. 

  Ladybeard: For me it was the very first one, the launching BABYBEARD one with Nippon Kara Konnichiwa. It was the first time we showed the group’s image to the world. That was the first time the world saw the girls’ faces; before that, everyone had a mask on. 

    When the manager isn’t in.#whenmomisnthome Check out BABYBEARD’s video! #TikTok https://t.co/qr3hVLbwxU pic.twitter.com/hlvCdBq3Xm

— BABYBEARD (@babybeard_japan) April 17, 2021

    What are you most excited about for the future of BABYBEARD?

  Shiori: Both girls say they want to go on a world tour and meet their fans overseas.

  Ladybeard: Finally getting to do this because very clearly it’s what the world wants from me. Last time [I was in an idol group] it was brought to an unfortunate end, and for five years people have been asking me to do it. And then once we were finally able to do it, to then have this pandemic show up, it’s like come on now. For me, just to finally actually do it, to get on stage and take it overseas, to give the fans what they’ve asked for for the past five years, for me it’s, let’s go, I just really want to do it. 

  [At this point, we say goodbye to SUZU and KOTOMI as they go on to other appointments.]

  Idols in Japan have to adhere to strict behavioral rules. As an unconventional idol, which ones do you definitely have to follow and which ones are you allowed to bend?

  Ladybeard: Your private life has to remain on the wraps. In this management company, I have not been specifically given instructions about what I can and can’t do in my private life, but I already know that whatever happens needs to stay under wraps. 

  On the Trash Taste podcast, I mentioned that I have a boring hobby. I’m not allowed to tell you what my boring hobby is because it’s too boring and it’s not in character. 

  Image via Babybeard

  How has your dynamic with your fans evolved throughout your career?

  Ladybeard: This is one of the most interesting things about being a professional crossdresser. This career has been going on for 12 years now. In that time, as much as Ladybeard evolves, the world evolves around Ladybeard as well. As attitudes generally change, you can see how that directly affects your interactions with the fans, and directly affects your interaction with the rest of the world, too. For instance, it was about two years ago, suddenly everybody started asking me what my pronouns were. But that conversation had not made it to Japan so I was like, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” We’d be attending conventions in the Western world and I’d be asked, “What are your pronouns” and I’d say, “What?” 

  Shiori: It’s probably because we don’t use pronouns in Japanese as a language. We don’t use specific pronouns to describe people. We can cut the subject in a sentence, so we don’t think about it. In Japan, Ladybeard’s pronoun is “Beard-chan.”

  So what are your pronouns?

  Ladybeard: He, she, whatever you like. It’s not something that really bothers me at all. I’ve been called “that jackass” so many times that the wrong pronoun isn’t going to upset me. If I were sensitive to what people were saying about me, I picked the wrong career.

  I definitely wanted to talk to you about gender so I’m glad this came up. I recently saw an interview with the actress Amanda Bynes who said she became depressed and experienced gender dysphoria after cross-dressing as a man in a movie. What does it feel like to see photos of yourself all over in a feminine gender presentation?

  Ladybeard: Feels like Tuesday. I barely notice it anymore. It’s just going to work. 

  So you feel really comfortable in the Ladybeard persona?

  Ladybeard: Very comfortable.

  Image via Babybeard

  Where do you end and where does Ladybeard begin?

  Ladybeard: So what you just said about that actress, Amanda Bynes. She was an actress playing a role. She went through that process for the sake of a film. For me, I made this character and it came from me. Now it’s an extension of me. Lady Gaga says something similar about herself: she refers to herself as a Gaga-Stefani hybrid. 

  I’m not sure, where do I end and where does Ladybeard begin? That’s a really good question. It’s like asking “where does you at the office end and where does you hanging out with your Nana start?” They’re both you. It’s just you at different times and different circumstances. 

  But I’m so comfortable in the skirts and whatnot now. Occasionally we go out in public and people are like, “Oh, a guy!” and I remember, “Oh yeah, I’m in a skirt!” and that’s not what everyone else is doing and I’ve almost forgotten about it. 

  Interestingly, if I crossdress in the Western world that’s when I remember, because that’s where I get abused. When I crossdress in public, no one [in Japan] harasses me. But in recent memory, it’s happened once in Paris and once in London. When it happened, I was like, “Oh yeah, this happens! I’d totally forgotten about it.”

  Image via Babybeard

  You’ve said that for you, being a man in a dress isn’t about being the butt of a joke, but about changing the energy in a room. Why do you think your crossdressing has that effect?

  Ladybeard: It started in Australia. Oftentimes, crossdressing has the potential to get the same reaction as what we just spoke about in London and Paris. There’s a bipolar reaction. It’s either anger and abuse, or it’s “Look at this guy!!” Because everyone acknowledges that hairy men generally don’t walk around wearing cute little skirts. 

  It’s interesting: people see me and they put whatever is in their head onto me. If they’re super conservative, they may think hateful thoughts. But if they’re not, they may think, “This crazy guy!” 

  And if they’re LGBT?

  Ladybeard: That’s a question I’m actually not good at answering because every member of that community feels a different way about me. I was very cautious when I started this because I was frightened that the LGBT community would think that what I do is a piss-take of what they take seriously. And it’s not, but I can see how they would think that. But I have been told that there are members of the community who feel that way about me, which is very unfortunate and not at all what I was trying to do. 

  And then there are other members who have completely embraced me. When I got to Japan I was surprised by how much I was embraced by the LGBT community here. My image has been taken and used to advertise gay bars here. 

  Image via Babybeard

  In a previous interview, you said this about the appeal of your metal covers of pop songs: “It takes what you’re used to and subverts it.” I think this sentence is a good way to explain your appeal as a performer. Would you agree? Why or why not?

  Ladybeard: With my old group, and now with BABYBEARD, it’s a series of pieces nobody ever would have thought to put together, and then they come together and work very well. And I think there’s something very beautiful about that: the surprise of it, the fact that it works when it really shouldn’t. There’s something very lovely. 

  With my personal career, I’ve always tried to make the masculine side of me as masculine as I can, and the feminine side of me as feminine as I can, and then try to create the biggest gap possible between those two dynamics. I think the group extends that further. Because it means that my masculine qualities are emphasized and the girls’ feminine qualities are emphasized. It’s an extension of the Ladybeard concept into a three-person formation. 

  It’s like pineapple on a pizza. Half the people love it and half the people want me dead.

  So do you get a lot of hate?

  Ladybeard: Less than you’d expect, and not for a long time. I think it’s just that I’ve been doing this for so long that the people who wanted to hate on me, hated on me and then moved on. 

  With BABYBEARD, you’ve had a role in choosing the name, the musicians, and even your fellow members. How did it feel to have so much say in the process?

  Ladybeard: Excellent, it was great. Our current boss trusts us, (me and manager Shiori), regarding stuff outside Japan, appreciating that we at times potentially understand variables like culture and foreign fans’ tastes better than he does. So he listens to our opinions.

  Simple joys...???? BABYBEARDの投稿動画を楽しみましょう！#TikTok #babybeardhttps://t.co/QAWRV4ZwNa pic.twitter.com/ywbMkVSauU

— BABYBEARD (@babybeard_japan) April 21, 2021

  Memes are such a big part of BABYBEARD. Do you think internet literacy is an important part of your job?

  Ladybeard: Shiori is better at it than I am, that’s for sure. I’m very bad at it. But yes, it’s very important and I need to get better at it! 

  The internet is an inseparable part of everyone’s lives now, isn’t it? Back when I started Ladybeard it was like, “there’s this thing called YouTube, you’re watching stupid videos there,” and now it’s so integrated into our lives it’s ridiculous. Regarding the group, we’re doing as much as we can online while you can’t physically see us, but when we can, please come to the live show because it’s going to blow your faces off.

  That’s the other thing about the internet. It’s changed how people want to consume live performances because back when I was a kid and you’d go to see a heavy metal show, there’d be three circle pits going on and there’d be this insanely brutal moshing and so forth. There’s much less of that now because people want to film with their phones. There’s social media, interacting with the show, interacting with the video of the show — both people who are there now and who are watching online, that’s become part of the live show. As the performer, it’s your job to adapt to that and make sure your performance works for that environment. 

  What was it like recording your new singles? Did Covid-19 make it more difficult?

  Ladybeard: Covid-19 didn’t necessarily affect the recording process, but it did affect the content. The lyrics of "Nippon Kara Konnichiwa" are about how we want to see you and be with you and hug you but we can’t, so until that’s possible we’re sending our love through the web. That’s the theme we’re trying to push until we’re able to leave the confines of the nation. Until then, we’d like to give everyone as much Internet love as we can. 

      Lauren Orsini is a fandom reporter and anime critic. You can find her Twitter here.

By: Lauren Orsini

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

[patriotsnet]

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her ­education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. ­Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-­shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-­inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a ­debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete ­Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.