#i know he wants to be commercially successful but jesus fucking christ man

[actualhumansunshine]

Niall Horan for Rolling Stone UK

#niall #solo niall #nh3 promo #quote #06.01.23 #i know that this has been an ongoing thing for him where he wants it to be broad and relatable and all that #but i just don't fucking understand WHYYYYYY #so many of the artists he loves the most are ones that write incredibly personal and incredibly specific songs #songs that DESPITE being personal and specific are still relatable because it's all about the EMOTION underneath #dermot; taylor; lewis; holly humberstone; damien rice; fleetwood; bruce; etc etc etc etc etc #and like we all know he has the capability!! we've seen flashes of it throughout his career with songs like flicker or dress #i know he wants to be commercially successful but jesus fucking christ man #it just seems like such a fucking waste of such talent and possibility and i literally mourn it every single fucking day #the things he could write oh my god!! INCREDIBLE!! and yet!!!!!

[365days365movies]

Western August V: Broken Arrow (1950) - Recap (Part Two) and Review

Where’s Jay SIlverheels, by the way?

This is, like, one of his most acclaimed roles, and he hasn’t shown up anywhere yet. Well, before he does, I should elaborate on why I care so goddamn much.

As I said last time, Silverheels was cast as Tonto in 1949, and became the most recognizable Native American or First Nations face in the United States. At the same time as him, another actor was working. His name was Iron Eyes Cody, and he actually also appears in Broken Arrow...somewhere. Cody made his career as a makeup artist...who specialized in redface. Yeah, that’s a weird-ass thing for a Native American actor to take part in, right?

Silverheels and Cody worked together on Broken Arrow, but Jay thought something was off. Still, the two went on in their respective careers. But they would go in two completely different directions.

During the time of Jay’s rise to fame, the Native American Civil RIghts Movement also began. This culminated in 1969 when Richard Oakes, LaNada Means, John Trudell (pictured above) and the Indians of All Tribes protest group occupied Alcatraz for 18 months. Yeah, the prison in the San Francisco Bay. It was originally native lands, so they took it back...until the government stepped in and ended the protest. But that’s a WHOLE other story. The point is, shit was changing. And suddenly, Jay Silverheels was enemy number one.

Like I said before, Hollywood and Native Americans never had the best relationship. Or even a good one. Hell, there’s a 1915 article written by a film executives that said they stole from film sets, but were trustworthy if provided tobacco and firewater, which is NOT AN EXAGGERATION AT ALL OF WHAT THAT DUDE SAID. And extending to Jay’s role of Tonto, Native American depictions in film were quite stereotypical. Broken and simplified English, savage behaviors and a misunderstanding of Western technology, headfeathers and hollering...you know, real racist shit. And since Jay was kind of the face of that to America...his career didn’t go well. And it REALLY didn’t help that he leaned into it.

Look, Jay was a massive advocate for the Native American Civil Rights movement, and he made that well-known on every possible occasion. However, he also treated Tonto as more of a parody of himself, performing the role for talk shows and commercials, like this above commercial for pizza rolls. And yeah, people were NOT FUCKING HAPPY about that. Native Americans labeled him an “Uncle Tomahawk”, and he was shunned in the community. Meanwhile, Jay’s career was absolutely tanking, barely getting any rolls after 1970. To make things worse, he has a stroke that year. And to make things EVEN worse...let’s get back to Iron Eyes fucking Cody.

In 1971, Iron Eyes Cody was cast by the Keep America Beautiful organization as the “Crying Indian” in their Earth Day commercial. This is the most successful commercial in the history of television, and it launched Iron Eyes Cody into fame as the most recognizable Native American face in the country, if not in the world. He met three Presidents, the Pope, got a stamp, was nominated for statehood...just, ludicrous amounts of acclaim and fame. When asked what his tribal lineage was, he would claim that he was of Cherokee and Cree descent. Just like Johnny Depp did! Which is fitting, because just like Johnny Depp... 

IRON EYES CODY WASN’T NATIVE AMERICAN AT ALL

Born Espera Oscar de Corti, he was an Italian kid from Louisiana. Yeah. This guy, this motherfucking guy, made his career playing pretend as a Native American. Remember when I said he was a makeup artist for films, making people look more authentically redface? Yeah, he did that as his job AND AS HIS LIFE. He would also always wear his Native American costume in public, which even Native Americans thought was fucking weird.

And Jay Silverheels KNEW this, by the way. He found out while the two were working together...on Broken Arrow. Which, of course, is why I brought this up. So this must’ve been a goddamn gutpunch for the poor guy. He’s labeled Uncle Tomahawk, while Cody’s being lauded as the best Native American actor ever, AND HE ISN’T EVEN NATIVE AMERICAN. Jesus Christ, this sucks.

Jay Silverheels died of a second stroke in 1980, at the age of 67. Iron Eyes went on to be on Mister Rogers, got even more film roles, and died a successful man in 1999, at the age of 94. There was an attempt to expose him in 1996, but that attempt got backlash from a fuckton of people, including within the Native American community. Only after his death was he finally revealed as the son of Sicilian immigrants who played a fake Native American for the cameras. And to be fair, he did give to Native American charities and causes, he was an advocate for Native American rights, and he at least raised the awareness of Native Americans to people who may not have known or cared about them otherwise. And yet, despite that...

Fuck Iron Eyes Cody. He’s still a dick.

Time to get back to Broken Arrow, huh? Here’s Part One if you missed it!

Recap: Part 2

After the gross-ass flirtation between the two the next day, Cochise arrives to tell Jeffords that he’ll allow the mail through, but nobody else. Jeffords takes the news back to Tucson, and nobody believes him. He’s given resistance specifically from John Lowrie (Robert Griffin), who bets Jeffords money that five mail riders won’t make it through. Jeffords takes the bet, and Milt Duffield is the first to volunteer to ride.

Duffield and four other riders make it through. But in the process, a military wagon train is ambushed by Chochise and his men and slaughtered. This seeming dichotomy leads the men of Tucson to believe that Jeffords is a traitor and siding with the Apache. In response, after a tence-ass altercation in a bar, the men mob together and IMMEDIATELY TRY TO LYNCH HIM JESUS CHRIST

He’s saved at the last minute by General Oliver Howard (Basil Ruysdael), who asks Jeffords to ask for a meeting with Cochise. He agrees to arrange it, if the peace-seeking General agrees to come alone. He does, as the General is actually a decent-ass dude. He’s not racist, and he believes that the Apache should be allowed their territory as well. Sick.

Also sick is the fact that the romance between Jeffords and Sonseeahray is going ahead towards marriage! Gross! Fucking gross. Cochise approves of this, and arranges it with the parents, despite warning them of the troubles ahead. However, that night, Jeffords is almost killed in his sleep by one of the tribesmen. Jeffords stops it, and Cochise intervenes, ashamed by the actions of one of his people. This is Nahilzay (John War Eagle), a rival suitor of Sonseeahray, and a traitor to Cochise’s word. So, to act upon his honor, Cochise kills him. Whoof.

The General comes for the treaty, while Sonseeahray prepares for their wedduuuuuuchh. Sorry, threw up in my mouth a little just then. Anyway, four days pass, and the men of the Apache Tribes have gathered to attempt a peace negotiation with the General. After a round of questions by the generals, the two Americans leave. And at this point, a dissenting voice rises. This voice does not believe the Americans. He says that the Apache don’t need this treaty, but need a new chief who is not softened to war.

But Cochise rightly notes that the Americans are growing in strength, and the Apache are shrinking. He puts it to a vote, and while some men leave, the majority of the Apache agree to peace. The leader of these men takes a new name: Geronimo (Jay SIlverheels). Sick. Geronimo and his new allies leave, ready to continue the war in the stead of the other Apache. But still, overall, there is a tentative peace that’s been struck.

But, of course, Geronimo doesn’t care about peace. He and his men ambush a stagecoach party, accompanied by Jeffords. But Jeffords is able to put out smoke signals that bring Cochise’s Apache to their aid, chasing off these renegades. Looks like the treaty’s working after all! I’m sure that it’s not gonna backfire even a little bit.

Anyway, the wedduuuuching between Jeffouuuughrds and Sonseeeewahray takes place and I stop myself from vomiting all over my computer.  There, a wedding prayer is said, and that prayer has been mistaken for being an authentic Apache Prayer for 71 years. It comes from THIS FUCKING MOVIE.

Sixteen days pass, and the peace treaty is still intact. Jeffords and Sonseeahray wax poetic about their love, and I feel like burying my head in the couch pillows to GET AWAY FROM THIS. But that’s interrupted by the arrival of Bob Slade (Mickey Kuhn), the son of racist farmer Ben Slade. He claims that the Apache have stolen their horses, which Cochise doubts. Still, on Jeffords’ suggestion, they go to investigate. And of course...it’s an ambush by Ben Slade, John Lowrie, and their compatriots.

The men fire away, aiming for Cochise. They miss him, and instead hit Jeffords and Sonseeahray, who tagged along for some reason. Slade is killed by Cochise, who escapes with his life. The men realize how severely they’ve fucked up, and they take off for Mexico. Fuck you guys. Jeffords lives, only to see that Sonseeahray is dead. When Cochise returns to find Jeffords and the survivors, they also notice a still-living settler. Jeffords wants to kill him, but Cochise stops him, now fully believing in peace.

Although he grieves, he also recognizes that Sonseearray was a Girl in the Refrigerator all along, and her death has inspired TRUE peace between the settlers and the Apache. And...that’s it.

That’s it?

That’s...one of the most sudden and anticlimactic endings I’ve seen in a while. I’m a little disappointed, to be honest. But OK, before I get on a tangent, let’s do a full review, huh?

Review

Short preamble! I did like this movie...mostly. It’s kind of haunted by the whole underage love interest and the redface. Hard for me to see past that, BUT IF I TRY...I can acknowledge that this is a good movie. I didn’t even mention that it’s loosely based off of a true story! Yeah! Tom Jeffords and Cochise actually did have a relationship. It’s a VERY different story, but their friendship really did exist.

If I was gonna guess my rating ahead of time...I’ll go with a 76%-80%. But let’s see how that holds up in the breakdown.

Cast and Acting - 7/10: Despite the position he’s in, Jimmy Stewart still turns out a great performance in this movie. Sure, watching him kiss Debra Paget make me cry on the inside and outside, but he was good in the role of Jeffords, especially when up against the racist settlers. Jeff Chandler also manages to be good, despite the fucking redface. And Jay Silverheels...Jay was great, even though I thought his role would be more than a single scene. As for the rest...Paget was bad. She was not good in this movie, sorry. And everybody else was basically just OK. Nothing to write home about.

Plot and Writing - 9/10: This was a solid-ass story, and I liked almost every part of it...save the underage romance. Which, no, I AM NOT FORGETTING ABOUT. Dude, Jeffords didn’t do that in real life. So, for the love of GOD, why make his fictional bride fucking 15? Guys...gross. Really fucking gross, Albert Maltz. Other than that, you did a great job, I just wish that wasn’t a part of it. Ugh.

Directing and Cinematography - 10/10: Yeah, Delmer Daves is a legend. I thought of writing the into to these recaps on him, but I really wanted to talk about Jay Silverheels and Iron Eyes Cody. But I’ll get my chance; Delmer Daves also directed 3:10 to Yuma, so I’ll bring him up one of these days. Anyway, Delmer Daves does a great job with this movie, and it’s gorgeously shot. Ernest Palmer is cinematographer, and he also does an excellent job.

Production and Art Design - 9/10: Sure, the settlers look generic, but the Native Americans? Excellent costume design, with a lot of authenticity packed in there. Credit where credit’s due, here.

Music and Editing - 7/10: Well, the music is great here, if not extraordinarily memorable. Hugo Friedhofer does the composition, and he does a great job. But is it iconic? Eh. Not really. I don’t remember it having a massive impact on me, unfortunately. And the editing...is also OK. That ending is weirdly paced for me, and very abrupt. But J. Watson Webb Jr. does a decent enough job, I think.

That’s an 84%. Huh. Genuinely thought it’d be lower.

This is a good movie, don’t get me wrong. But it’s...complicated. I would recommend it with warnings, I’ll put it that way. Good, great even...but complicated. Outside of that, I have to admire the stance to put Native American tribes on a equal stance, respect-wise. For the time, and for the genre, that’s a rarity. So, as always, credit where credit’s due.

Next up, we continue our foray into the classic Western...but stick with Jimmy Stewart. I wanna give him a second chance. And hopefully, this one doesn’t include a romance with a fifteen year-old. Hopefully.

Next: The Naked Spur (1953); dir. Anthony Mann

#broken arrow #film:broken arrow #broken arrow 1950 #delmer daves #james stewart #jeff chandler #debra paget #jay silverheels #western august #western genre #user365 #365 days 365 movies #365 movie challenge #mygifs #my gifs

[scratchybeardsweetmouth]

Iain Glen on His Twisty ‘Mrs. Wilson’ Character and the End of ‘Game of Thrones’

By Christina Radish  April 7, 2019 Image via PBS Entire Q&A Portion (x):

MRS WILSON Collider:  I had heard a bit about [Mrs Wilson’s] story prior to seeing this project, but it’s so fascinating and compelling to learn about the details of it all. IAIN GLEN: “I’m very grateful for how well the whole thing has turned out. I feel for Ruth, and I’m so pleased for her. It was an extraordinary journey that she went on with this. She knew she had this incredibly complicated history in her family, with this one figure, in particular, which had been a part of her childhood. And then, she became an actor and the pressure gently built to manifest the story for a drama. And then, she had to put the right people together, find a fantastic writer, and find the right production to realize it. So, for it to have been come out and have done as well as it has, it’s an amazing journey to go on. It’s very easy to look at this and say, “This is extraordinary, what happened.” It’s a very different thing to find the right writer to actually structure it and make the story follow revelation after revelation, to come out satisfyingly, and for us to retain sympathy, throughout. I think that it’s a very compelling story, psychologically, and that’s what I’m most pleased about. It’s based in the truth, so it’s very, very riveting, which is what you look and hope for in drama.” Did you know, from the beginning, that this was a true story and that it was her family’s story? “I did, yeah. They asked me to do it, and then Ruth and I met in Belfast. All I had done was read three scripts, which had been sent to me, while she’d lived with this project, for years and years and years. But we actually had a very similar take on it, and that was quite reassuring for both of us, in a funny way.” Did you ever have a moment where it just seemed bizarre and surreal that you were playing your co-star’s actual grandfather while she was playing her own grandmother? “I had a little moment, yes, I did. It doesn’t seem like a significant moment, but Ruth’s mum and dad came, and they played little extra roles within the drama in one scene. I was in the make-up caravan, getting into being Alec Wilson, and Ruth was beside me, getting into being Alison Wilson, and then her mum and dad came in and went, “Hello, how are you?” She sat in there and asked me how it was all going and said, “I’m very pleased that you’re playing the role.” It was just a bizarre, strange mix of reality and drama going on, where sometimes you can feel incredibly silly dressing up in funny clothes and pretending to be people. All I can say is that Ruth and her family always made it feel that they were really happy with what I was up to, and to just to keep doing what I was doing.” You were playing a real guy, but you couldn’t talk to him because he’s not with us anymore, and it seems that nobody really fully knew who he was or why he did what he did. How did you approach finding him? “What you’re actually asking is, what was the motivator? What was it that made you do the things that you did? We know what he did. We know that he got involved with different women, and that he married them and had children with them. We also know that he was of the Secret Service, and that he was a very successful novelist. So, I had all of the facts, and then I had scenes that showed those things. You have to be a little bit careful, as an actor, to not want to rationalize it so much that you have a total clarity of the subtext that’s going on. All you can do is play each scene for what it is. You just play each moment for what it is, and you let it add up to what it adds up to. In his lifetime, all of his various wives had no idea, whatsoever, that he had these other scenarios going on.So, in any given moment, during the course of their realities, there were no signals saying, “Something weird is going on here,” or that he had another life that he was not telling anyone about. Otherwise, it makes them all quite stupid people. He was very able to be in the present and inhabit the moment that he was inhabiting. That’s what he had to do. His life was endangered, if his cover was blown, so that made him a very successful operative. Without shirking it, I didn’t try to rationalize. I didn’t try to find the answers because, if Ruth’s family, who had studied him and tried to understand, hadn’t quite worked out, it felt silly of me to try.” It’s so interesting because he obviously loved each of these families, and they all really loved him. “They really did.” If he was some kind of a monster, they wouldn’t have had the feelings that they had for him. “That’s right. And the wives wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, wanted to marry him, and wanted to have children with him. It’s a funny mix. When I think about it, my head just explodes. I think, “Jesus Christ, that would be too complicated!” It’s hard enough with one wife and the three children that I have. But people are wired differently. The context of the war years and how that affected people is really important. People did different things, when life was not so taken for granted and you lived in a very endangered situation, all the time, especially when you were living in a city that was getting bombed, on a nightly basis. Perhaps you have a desire to live life or generate life in those moments, I don’t know. There was no doubt that, to some degree, he was a fantasist, but it all got a bit gray around the edges. It’s definitely wrong. You shouldn’t marry somebody when you’re already married. There’s no doubt that’s wrong, and that’s not a good thing. That should probably not happen. And you definitely shouldn’t do it a third and fourth time. But all I had to do was make him somebody where you could understand why they fell in love with him. He was charismatic and exotic, and he was a man in uniform who wrote novels and was successful. I just tried to play that person, rather than having a judgment eye about him.” Did you read any of his novels? “I did, yeah. That was probably my only real significant research. I had the diary and the memoirs that had been written by Alison, and he wrote about 20 books, but I didn’t read them all. His famous ones were these Wallace mysteries, so I read those. In a way, the main character of the Wallace mysteries was a projection of himself, so that was quite revealing. He was the person that he would like to have been perceived as being, particularly from those that employed him, and then turned on him. It’s lovely when you can read the words written from the mind of the person that you’re playing. It just puts you as close as you’re gonna get.” By the time that you got to the last day of playing this character, do you feel like you had a different appreciation for who he was? “Yeah. I always really liked him, and I didn’t judge him. I think he gave a great deal. I know it’s fucked up. I don’t underestimate the wrong that he did. I really don’t. But he did give a great deal for his country, sacrificed his life, and tore himself apart to fight the cause for his country, and he tore himself domestically apart, as well. For whatever reason, he was treated poorly, in the end, and that gave me great sympathy for the man. If anything, I felt more sympathetic towards him, at the end of playing him, than when I started.” GAME OF THRONES You were working on Game of Thrones when this came up. What’s it been like for you, as an actor, to be a part of a show that is one of the biggest, most popular, most epic shows, ever, and you’re one of the last men standing, of the original cast? “It’s been fantastic. I know. I did a head count, and there’s only between 12 or 15, who were in the pilot and every single season. There are not too many of us, which is good, and even less who were a part of every season, through this season. Some people have disappeared, and then reemerged. It’s been great. It’s been a really joyous journey. It’s now perceived as a massive, global hit, but I remember the days when we thought, ‘What the hell are we doing?!’ We were half-way through the first season thinking, ‘Are we just making a pile of poo?’ We had no idea, really. You need an objective response. And then, over the seasons, the belief and faith in it grew, and our faith in ourselves grew. It was probably half-way through Season 3 or 4 that we thought, ‘We’re actually onto something here.’ It’s been an amazing journey to go on. And Dan [Weiss] and David [Benioff] are very, very lovely, cool showrunners, who made us all feel very valued and special. As an actor, every job that you do, you give it your best shot, but you have no idea how it’s gonna get received. So, when you end up with something that is received incredibly well, is universally critically approved of, and is a massive commercial hit, then you better friggin’ enjoy it because it doesn’t get any better. The fact that it’s not just for a film that’s there and gone, but for a drama that’s kept coming back for almost a decade, it’s been a very special time, for us all. I’d say that it doesn’t matter what generation – whether it’s the young ones who came to it and made their name, or the people who’ve been around more, like myself – all of us individually look at each other and think, ‘We don’t fuckin’ believe it. This is crazy!’ That sensation of feeling that we really lucked out is a nice thing because none of us go, ‘Yeah, we deserve this.’ It’s just amazing that it’s turned out as successful as it has, and that it’s transformed how people perceive us. I could whine about, ‘Why don’t people remember me when I did this at the Royal Shakespeare Company?,’ but it’s okay. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m always really delightfully surprised when someone mentions a theater piece that they’ve seen me do because probably .001% of the people who watch Thrones went to see any theater show that I ever did. I always feel lucky, and it’s been nothing but a good thing.” Do you feel like this final season justifies the longer episode lengths? “I absolutely do. Could you have created two more episodes and have had them all the same length? Sure. But there are monumental waves to the different movements that happen during this last season, and it makes sense to me that they’re feature-length. The way people receive it has changed, as well. When you start something, you want to grab people’s attention and keep them, but then you get to a point where you’ve got people’s attention. You can allow yourself longer movement within the course of an episode, to get from your beginning to your end, in each wave of the changing drama. The whole production has real faith in itself, so it feels right to me.” Were you given scripts for the whole season, or were you just given your pieces? “No, we always got the scripts. That was true, from the word go. The only thing that was usual about it, this time, was that we all gathered together to read the entire season, before we began. That was very emotional and amazing. We were all around this massive table, with all of the various directors for the season. It was a very special time. If they’re to be believed, some people said that they were reading it for the first time, and didn’t know where the story was going. Kit Harrington always said that, and I think I believe him. I don’t know. We’d only had a few days to look at it, but it was Dan and David’s way of saying, “Here we go, we’re all in this together. This is the story that we’re telling.” It’s such a big production, and we all go off in various directions, so it was nice to gather everyone in one place, to begin with. We’ve kept people waiting, and I thank people for their patience, but I hope it’ll make sense, when people see it, that it took a bit of time to get it right.” 

#iain glen #iain glen interview #interview #collider #mrs wilson #got

[artificialqueens]

The Kids are Alright (Katya [Trish] & Cracker) - Dandee

Her name’s Trish and she just got out of her mom’s garage. She’s fourteen days clean and sober by the grace of god (still smokin’ a little bit of pot, but it’s whatevah). It’s all about her, God, and Thanksgivin’. Why? Cause everyday’s Thanksgivin’. And in the words of the great Jimmy Buffet, we all know that Santa stole Thanksgivin’, so now it’s Christmastime– or at least it was a couple months ago. She couldn’t feel her feet last year, but those days are over now– she’s a new woman today.

Trish meets an unlikely character. Friendship/Crackfic

**********************************************

“Thank ya, sir. God bless ya.”

Trish takes the five and tucks it into her tit, watching the guy that gave it to her rejoin his happy-lookin’ lady-friend.

Thank God for tourists.

Her strappy heels drag along the sidewalk as she fumbles with the soft-pack of Pall Malls. Good ole’ tourists, even in February. Guy can’t be that well off if he’s sightseeing in goddamn shitting February but hey, maybe he’s Catholic. Maybe he’s got guilt issues. Or maybe he just wants to get laid. Who cares, it’s Christmas. Or it was. Close enough, whatevah.

She pats her chinchila pockets and groans.

“Eh, crapsticks,” she mumbles, cigarette dangling from her lips. She pats her other tit, then spins around and pats her tush. There ain’t nothin’ there but it’s just crazy– that’s the third lighter today gone missin’. The good lord above’s got her in some kinda purgatory, got her suckin’ on cigarettes but won’t let her smoke ‘em.

Some sense of humor that lady’s got.

“Hey!” She calls, rushes over to a dude headed toward the crosswalk with a stogie. He immediately picks up his pace, and so does she.

“Hey! Hey.” She grabs his elbow and he whirls around, face pink and chapped from the cold. She grabs the cigarette from her lips and waves it to him, “Light me up?”

“Jesus, lady,” he stammers, shrugging her off. He scowls real mean-like at her before he pulls his coat tighter, muttering a “psycho bitch” and turning on his heel.

Trish’s brows furrow as she watches him go. “No–you!” she calls after him, but he just keeps walking. Yeah, keep walkin’. Mean-ass.

People, man.

That’s the thing about the city– for every kind-hearted tourist you get an asshole local who thinks they own the place. An asshole local who still needs a smartphone to get back to their high-rise condo or they get their asses lost. Trish doesn’t have a phone. Doesn’t want one, doesn’t need one. She knows these streets like the back of her hand, could get herself anywhere in this goddamn city quicker than you could say the serenity prayer in a five-thirty rush. She could take the train six times over and not pay a single penny outta her pocket. She could swipe a hotdog stand faster than a knifefight in a phone booth. These ain’t their streets. They’re hers.

A chilly breeze whips from around a building and slaps her in her face. She pops her smoke back in her mouth, shoves her hands deep in her pockets.

She braces herself against it, tense as she steps away from the street. It might be one of those nights tonight, one of those station stairs nights. It smells like piss but at least it’s warm. The dumpster’s always an option, but last time she fell asleep in the can shit got real sticky in the morning. Wakin’ up in a garbage truck isn’t so fun— all that. Ya know.

She watches her feet as she walks slow, putting one foot sexily in front of the other. She smiles at the shimmery silver heels, the way the ankle straps hug her wooly socks. Bobby’s such a sweetheart, thinkin’ of her around Christmastime and gettin’ these. She’s gonna call him again tomorrow. Just gotta find a pay phone that works. But she’ll call him.

A sniffly sound grabs her attention. Trish glances up.

A little girl, standing right outside the train stairs. Blonde hair pulled into a ball on top of her head, sweet little navy blue peacoat. Huggin’ her own waist and lookin’ around scared.

Trish looks behind her, then back again. What, somebody just left her here? People dumpin’ kids now? Christ.

She sticks her cigarette behind her ear and mozies on over to the girl, whistling a low Jimmy Buffet Christmas tune. She strolls past her casually and parks it against the railing of the stairs. She clears her throat.

The girl doesn’t look at her.

Trish coughs, sniffs loud. She catches a little side eye from the kid but that’s about it. The kid just hugs herself tighter, lookin’ straight ahead.

Giving an inaudible sigh, Trish looks around for a sec. She scuffs her heel against the pavement, flaps her coat. Then, after a moment, out of the corner of her mouth,

“You, uh– you got a light?”

The girl blinks once, twice. Then her face scrunches up and she looks at Trish, all brown eyed and buck toothed.

“Wh– what?”

Trish rolls her eyes. “A lighter. Matches? Fuego?”

A moment passes between them– the girl, brow creased and nose wrinkled, blinking— and Trish staring back at her, foot tapping against the pavement.

The girl never gives an answer, and Trish eventually shrugs her off. She grumbles and slumps back against the railing. Kids these days, no respect for their elders.

“That depends, you got a cigarette for me?”

Well that catches Trish off-guard, she’ll admit it. She’s no stranger to the game. But a bit young to be playin’ in the streets, this one.

She measures the wager— kid can’t be older than thirteen, maybe twelve and a half. But she’s old enough to know better, and who’s Trish to judge? She’s been smokin’ since she was ten, holed up in the back of a dressing room pinning her ma’s garter to her thigh-high and cutting cash after showtime.

She peers at the kid from the corner of her eye. Little shit’s still lookin’ straight ahead, but now she’s wearin’ a smirk like a kitty-cat who’s locked it’s people outside.

“Ahrite, ahrite,” Trish sighs, reaches into her pocket and digs into her pack. She pulls two smokes, and the girl reaches out her hand.

“Uh-uh, huh.” Trish waggles her finger, “Light first.”

The kid rolls her eyes. She bends to fish a box of matches out of her sock, and smacks it into Trish’s open palm.

“Aaaank-you.”

Lipping the cig, Trish swipes the matchstick on the red and heyfirst try (she’s still got it), the thhrraaackk of the success is like an angel singin’ out in the heavens. She covers the flame with her palm and gets a good cherry going. She tosses the box back to the kid and waves the stick out.

Kid catches the box and Trish flips her the other stogie. Kid catches that too, and she doesn’t say shit when she peels right past Trish and makes for the alley.

Smart kid.

Trish takes a long drag and boy God is good, it hits the spot. She stares out into the street for a second, watches a couple taxis swish by. An icy spray kicks up from under one of the wheels, and her knees buckle when it hits her straight in the caps.

“Agh, shit.” She steadies herself. Can’t afford another slip today.

She shoves her free hand back into her pocket, pulling her coat back to her and turns against the street. She shuffles around a little, that ole christmastime song creepin’ it’s way back into her brain.

“Merry Christmaass, Alabammaa— “ she bounces on her steps, wandering toward the alley. “Merry Chrissstmaaas… Tenness.. seee…”

She spots the kid, leaning up against the backdoor of Shangie’s Pack-n-Ship. She’s scratchin’ away at the matchbox, a couple goddamnit’s and fuck’s slippin’ out from around the cig between her buckteeth. She finally does get a light but she jumps, throws it out with a hiss and stomps her little heels.

“Hang on-“ Trish makes toward her, bringing her smoke back to her lips. Kid jumps, then serves a real suspicious scowl. She stays put though, and gets another match.

“Come on, here.” Trish nods, cupping her hands forward.

Kid huffs, but swipes again. She swipes a few more times, eventually turning into Trish’s little shield.

“Come on kid—do it like ya mean it, come on—”

Kid glares up from under her brows but keeps on, gettin’ kinda pissed. On a particularly desperate swipe, voila, she gets lucky.

“Easy, ahrite, there ya go-“ Trish keeps her hands hovered over the girl’s cig, and kid goes crossed-eyed while she watches the cherry light. Then she pinches the cig and pulls back, tosses the match stick and takes a drag.

Trish pulls back too, and makes her way to the other wall. Trish puffs and the girl sucks in through her teeth. Two streams of smoke blow from opposite sides of the alley.

“Thanks,” Kid says after a minute, leaning against the door and still lookin’ sus. She’s got her arms half-crossed with one knee up, oh-so-poised, like a fuckin’ ballerina on a lunchbreak.

Trish shrugs. “Yeah.”

And now the girl’s doin the thing they all do— just judgin’ Trish up and down. Reading her outfit, makin’ up stories about who she is and what she’s really smokin’. Trish is used to it by now, but she still pulls her coat in tighter. She clears her throat and shakes the loose hair outta her face.

“You should probably stick to daylight, kid. These streets are mean.”

Kid scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Who asked you?”

Trish shrugs again, “I’m just sayin’ honey. Ya got a lot of nerve, pullin’ stunts on a Friday night.”

Kid leans her head back on the brick. “Yeah well,” she takes quick drag, “I can take care of myself.”

Maybe it’s her god-given maternal instinct, but Trish’s heart goes all soft for a minute. Who’s lettin’ this little baby run the streets at night? Who’s dressin’ her up in fancy clothes like that, then not givin’ a shit about where she is? It’s 7pm, do you know where your child is? Ain’t anyone ever seen the commercial? What kinda mother-

“And actually, I’d really appreciate it if you’d fuck off.”

Trish feels her forehead wrinkle when her brows shoot up. “‘Scuse you?”

“Yeah.” The girl cocks her head, eyes narrowed, “This is my spot. Find your own.”

“Your spot? Sorry, but —what are you, nine?”

“Twelve, actually,” kid says. She blows smoke and looks at her nails like a goddamn debutante.

“Oh, right,” Trish chuckles, “Twelve. So sorry. ‘Scuse me Queenie Bee.”

The girl’s eyes snap up from her nails. “And what are you, seventy-five?”

Ouch, that’s ripe.

“Well that’s not very-“

“Shouldn’t you have been home by three? So you could catch the news at five and make it to bed by seven? Or does Wheel of Fortune push bedtime to eight?”

“Hey, I will have you know-“

“Or did you forget to drink your prune juice—“

“-that I have lived here longer—“

“-and you’re just taking a stroll to move things around—“

“-longer than you’ve been a twinkle in ya daddy’s eye-”

Kid stops, shuts up real fast. She looks down at her cigarette and takes her leg off the wall.

Trish can’t help her victorious grin.

“Oh no, did I hit a nerve? You don’t got nothin’ else to say?”

The girl shuffles some rocks around with her feet. “M-my dad,” she says, her voice giving a shake, “My dad’s not here anymore.”

Trish’s face falls, and Jesus Fucking Christ she’ll be damned if the kid doesn’t look up at her with tearful eyes and a quivering lip.

“Oh- oh honey,” Trish waves her hands, “nuh-nuh-no, please don’t cry.”

The girl wipes at her eyes, and then chokes out a little sob.

“Oh God honey, I- I’m so sorry,” Trish stammers. She rushes to her with her arms out, “Come here, stop that cryin’.”

The girl seems to give in and falls onto her, her shoulders goin’ and her little cries muffled by Trish’s chinchilla coat. This poor little thing, so tough on the outside. All she probably wants is some parents who care, but hell, don’t we all? Isn’t that really the root of all our problems? That’s what the psychic said back in June, anyway. And then she stole forty bucks, the bitch.

“Hey, shoosh those tears,” Trish says, gentle as she can. She rubs Kid’s back, real motherly-like.

“He- he’s in h-heaven now-“

“Oh, shh- of course he is, honey.” Trish looks up at the sky and makes a face. Eh? Is he though? That lady’s got a real issue up there.

But she rubs the kids back, all the same.

“Is that why ya out here all by yourself?”

The girl nods into her shoulder. Trish sighs. Of course.

This kid could probably use some real solid advice right now, some real words of wisdom. And the lady in the sky brought them together tonight, in this very moment, for Trish to teach her a little bit of what she’s learned about this cruel, nasty world. So it’s time to be a child of God and give it a go. She clears her throat and collect her thoughts as best she can.

“Listen honey,” she starts, “Now your daddy’s in heaven right now, smilin’ down ‘atcha. But ya know, you really gotta- hey- hang on, OW—“

And there she is, before she knows it, in a headlock.

Her eyes bulge and she groans, choking out any words she can.

“Gotcha, bitch,” Kid sing-songs, smiling down at her. Trish throws her shoulders around but the kid’s got her good, she ain’t goin’ nowhere.

“Like I said, I can take care of myself,” Kid says, tightening her hold, her stingin’ cigarette smoke makin’ Trish eyes water.

“And though I appreciate your sympathy, I’d really appreciate it if you’d just move it along. This is my spot. Not yours. You go find your own. You hear me?”

Trish can only manage a slew of post-verbal, pitiful nonsense.

“We good?”

Trish nods weaky.

With a chuckle, Kid lets her go. Trish rolls onto the pavement, hacking.

“Jesus…Christ, kid.“

Kid’s grinning smugly. “Here,” she says, reaching out a hand, “come on. Get up.”

Trish looks at her hand, horrified. “Get the hell away from me ya little-“

“Oh come on, Grandma.”

Kid grabs Trish’s hands against her will, and pulls her up to her feet. Trish stumbles for a sec, and she points her finger.

“You— you’re a fuckinnn’—“

“Black belt? Why yes I am, thank you.”

Trish just stares back at her, catching her breath. Unbelievable, kids these days. No respect, no respect at all-

“Hey!” Trish sees her stogie on the ground, clean in half. “You broke my cigarette!”

Kid rolls her eyes. She fishes into her peacoat and pulls out the matches. “Here.”

Trish eyes her hand again, not willing to risk it.

“Just take them,” she says, shoving the matches forward, “You can just have them.”

Trish looks from the matches, to the kid, then back to the matches. She reaches out her hand real slow, then jumps back when she snatches them. Kid laughs.

“Oh, actually,” Kid turns and pats her other pocket, “here, this too.”

She pulls out Trish’s Pall Malls and tosses them to her. Trish catches them, frowning.

“Oh, and this too.”

She pulls a bill out of the same pocket, the five that Trish had tucked into her tit.  Trish, beside herself, marches over to snatch the bill. “How did you—“

“It’s what I do.”

Trish just stares, and Kid just grins. She takes one last drag of her cigarette and stomps it out.

“You’re unbelievable, kid,” Trish says, truly astonished. She tucks the five back into her tit, and pulls out a fresh cigarette. She pops it in her mouth and mumbles, “You’re a little firecracker, ya know that?”

Kid laughs, lookin’ utterly pleased with herself, like she’d won a prize in her fuckin’ Frosted Flakes.

“Well thanks.”

As Trish lights a match, Kid holds her hand out again. Trish flinches, but Kid just steady smiles.

“Brie.”

Trish takes a drag and narrows her eyes. She carefully takes her hand, and squeezes.

“Trish.”

Brie nods. “Well, Trish,” she says, eyes lookin’ like something between lasers and deadbolts, “I hope I never see you again.”

Trish shrugs and pulls back. “Yeah. Likewise, Cracker.”

Brie tilts her head, like she’s weighing something. Like someone just told her she’d be winning the spelling bee, like someone’s just pulled a pageant. She smirks, gives a little ‘hymph’, and makes back toward the street.

“Oh, and thanks for the cigarette,” she calls over her shoulder, her little heels clickety-clackin’ against the pavement.

Trish grimaces, and can’t help but watch the little demon as she goes. Where is her mother? Is she really twelve? Is she even American? That little shit’s gonna learn one of these days, we all gotta learn. But she’ll be alright for a while, Trish can guess that. Crazy little fuck.

Brie stops for a sec, then turns back. Trish tenses and plants her feet, bracing herself. She holds her lit cigarette out in front of her, ready to burn this bitch.

“Hey,” Brie calls. She reaches into her peacoat and pulls out somethin’ shiny. She lowers her arm for an underhand toss and yells, “catch!”

“Uh,” Trish looks behind her, then holds up a hand. Brie chucks it and Trish catches it in her left.

A gold Rolly, with diamonds. Still warm.

Trish looks back up, and Kid’s smilin’.

“Don’t keep it long, I swiped it an hour ago. Go down the road and make a right. They’ll take it.”

Trish looks down at the Rolly, then back up to Kid.

“Uh.. okay?”

Brie shrugs and holds her hands above her head. “It’s Christmas!”

Trish blinks, then scowls. “It- it’s February, ya twit!”

Brie laughs. “Close enough!”

With that she rounds the corner, and poof, she’s gone.

Trish is absolutely walking in the opposite direction of that bitch, and she turns on her heel with a groan. She gazes down at the watch in her palm. It’s gorgeous, it’s luxurious- it’s the most precious thing she’s held in years. Well, besides Bobby.

Bobby. He’d love this one. She could give it to him for Christmas-In-July or somethin’, or a Happy-Birthday present. He could put it on and she could get all dolled up and they could go have a real nice dinner, real fancy-like at the Black Eyed Pea.

She comes to the end of the street and rounds the corner. A neon green Yvie’s Odds hangs over a doorway, calling Trish’s name.

Eh, Bobby’ll be fine. Cash is king, after all.

And the bell on the door dings as she skips back out onto the street, tucking a wad of cash in her tit. She’s gonna need a bigger bra, that’s for sure. And maybe a soda, a Big Blue. And maybe she’ll get a nice Danielle Steel from the book store, and have a quiet night in the halfway house. She’s just gotta make it to midnight and she’ll have fifteen days sober, by the grace of God. And maybe she’ll find a payphone, and she’ll call Bobby.

Before she calls Bobby though, she’s gotta call her sponsor. She’s gotta call her and tell her all about her day, about what she did wrong and what she did right. And of course, she’s gotta tell her about Kid. She’s gotta tell her all about the mean little shit, about the nicest stranger she’s met in a long, long time.

#rpdr fanfiction #dandee #trish #katya zamolodchikova #miz cracker #rare pair #fic challenge #the kids are alright #cracker & katya

[kindabraveandlittlestupid]

Its been almost two years and I am still a bit bewildered by the outcome of the 2016 election. Not the fact that Trump has taken over the Conservative Party (that was a long downhill trend that's existed for years) but rather the fact that so many Christian voters not only endorsed his candidacy but continue to support it despite all the evidence to show he is as far from the Christian Faith as he could possibly be.

I know some might want to disqualify me from this conversation most because I have stepped away from the Church. I was a Christian years ago and a part of me still carries that aspect of Jesus where Compassion, Love, and Sacrifice were the cornerstones of being a good person. I still very much apply that to my philosophy and lifestyle but the element of organized religion has left a sour taste in my mouth. Consistently seeing churches align themselves with nationalistic beliefs, avarice and populist anger worries me. There was in fact too many inconsistencies with the faith where we were told to love everyone without condition but more often than not the religious leaders would have their admonitions against women seeking health services, people practicing safe sex, the LGBTQ community and people of other faiths. So, in other words, it wasn't Christianity the faith that pushed me away and made me no longer believe, it was the Christians themselves who seemed to comfortably wade into these dark emotions and make it part of their politics.

So this article we will be exploring the Catholic concept of the Seven Deadly Sins and how they apply to Donald Trump (I am sure some of you are making some distinct connections already). I will talk about the concept of sin towards the end and how we are all subject to it (if you believe in sins, to begin with), the concept of forgiveness (which I spoke of before) and lastly a nod to the few churches in America that do believe in those values of Love, Compassion and Sacrifice and how they should be celebrated for being the outliers that still carry some semblance of decency.

“I like money. I’m very greedy. I’m a greedy person. I shouldn’t tell you that, I’m a greedy – I’ve always been greedy. I love money, right? “ - DT

I was undecided which of the sins he dwelled in the most, the truth is he seemed comfortable in all 7 but the 2 that seemed to define his character the most was Greed or Pride. I feel as though Trump could never happy without being remembered nor do I think he would care to be remembered without being rich. I suspect between the two it was Greed that started to push him down the darker path so we will focus on his wealth first.

The concept of Greed never really fit well into Christian beliefs, in fact, Jesus detested the wealthy believe those who kept wealth to themselves would find no easy entry to heaven. They coveted their possessions and tethered themselves to their riches and refused to give those up to be closer to god. Jesus himself says “Dear children, it is very hard to enter the Kingdom of God. In fact, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God!”

Despite this message being so clear in the bible Donald Trump with his estimated worth of 400 million is still considered a godly man by the Christian community, in fact, he plays well the audience of the Prosperity Gospel who believes that wealthy men are endowed directly by God for their wealth. These are the same churches and preachers who ask their congregation to buy them multiple private jets and large personal properties to eventually receive their own personal wealth after giving to the ‘church’. What is disturbing the most is how many people seem to believe that this would be true despite Christ's literal words contradicting that message and how many devout followers fall into financial ruin while attempt to obtain this magical nirvana of wealth for Christians.

The fact is Trump has consistently put wealth before anything declaring bankruptcies multiple times and making financial withdraw from Russian banks to continue his ‘golden’ lifestyle he becomes accustomed too. This is the first and most prominent sin but don’t worry he makes strong cases for the others.

“Nobody’s ever been more successful than me.” - DT

Pride is nothing new for Donald Trump but it is most certainly his second (or perhaps first) deepest sin. The man literally brands his names to dozens of products and splashes it across his buildings in big gold letters. Some might claim this is brand recognition which are the same poor fools who associate Trumps name with success despite the evidence that most of his products fail (save golf courses) and once again the multiple bankruptcies that followed the man around.

I suppose we can give him some credit for managing to weather all the failures so well. I am sure people find that endearing quality and if he remained a businessman I might have been happy to let him dwell merrily in his field but stepping into the realm of politics when he fails in office we all suffer the consequences of his pride.

“Nobody is better on humility than me.” - DT

“If he says great things about me, I’m going to say great things about him.” - DT on Putin

Perhaps the third reason Trump entered the political realm is not that of Pride alone but also because of Envy as well. This trend started with a younger man who seemed to have come out of nowhere and not only caught the admiration of the nation but seemed to install a spirit of hope among the people, Barak Obama. Trump has since had a vendetta against the former President to try to remove any policy, regulation, or law that Obama put forward in his two terms. While Trump in the past seemed to have some liberal views any essence of progressive policies he might have moderately displayed in the 80′s and 90′s has been replaced with vitriol and hate for our first Black President and Liberals in general.

It shouldn't surprise anyone that he would hate Obama, Trump has been trying to get in the public good graces for years hanging out with celebrities, throwing parties, appearing in movies and making commercials but a lifetime of panhandling for Trump was achieved by Obama in just a few short years. Donny was the odd man out and he took his anger out on Obama leading the charge of the birther movement and sending ‘investigators’ to Hawaii to undermine the former Presidents credibility.  

I suppose the second element of Envy that we should talk about isn't how he was jealous in a negative way (Obama) but how he is jealous of dictators around the world who can simply do what they want. This is probably even more concerning than his Pride or Greed or other sins (save Wrath). He has turned coldly against long-standing allies and now openly praises China, North Korea, Russia, the Philipines, Turkey and Egypt where men have seized power and transcended the rule of law becoming literal Dictators. The admiration and envy the President has shown for these men and expressing how he wishes he could be President for life, thinking about suspending elections like them, attacking the Press and the Courts all scream budding fascist but still free American Christians remain loyal to his doctrine.

 “Knock the crap out of him, would you? I promise you, I will pay your legal fees.” - DT

The first thing that should be said is no one should ever be afraid of Donald Trump in a fight. Small hands and a sluggish body, a single strike to the chest would likely dislodge a piece of plaque in his heart causing him to die right there. We already saw him run from military service with ‘bone spurs’ and whenever he advocates violence is when no one can reach him and having someone else doing the fighting for him. So, in other words, the man is a huge coward.

On the other hand, Trump has influence, influence over his constituents and they are often willing to do as he asks. This is where cowardice hides best, letting other people fight his battles for him. Within his staff he lets other explain his mistakes for him. In regards to the police, he openly encouraged them to rough up suspects. In regards to the military, he is inclined to provide them with more and more funds as the state department remains depleted of diplomats. 

The fact is Trump does tap into wrath lashing out at anyone who does not fall into line with his doctrine. We have seen the high turnover rate of the White House of people who tried to influence him or advice him but his Pride won't allow it and so out the door, they go. This sin scares me the most because I think one day he might actually greenlight a real conflict with someone... calling soldiers to the borders to keep Central/South Americans out, attacking North Korea first (despite their budding romance) or attack someone else sending young men and women to die not because of National Security or some moral high ideal but because his pride was damaged and the armed forces to him is a tool to swing when he doesn't get respect.

“You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab them by the pussy." - DT

Probably the most well-accounted issue with Donald Trump is blatant disregard for women. While Greed and Pride are the primary motivators that drive him, this is where he often reaps his rewards with a fair amount of collateral damage for his Lust. He has referred to females as pieces of ass, suggested women manipulative, said he would eventually marry a 12-year-old girl and would walk into changing rooms at beauty pageants because no one could stop him.

This is the same man who left two wives before moving onto his third and cheating on her too. He also joked about how he would love to date his daughter only we all know really he isn't joking, he would totally fuck Ivanka if he could get away with it. The fact is he is in a position where he can deny any wrongdoing and can use his ample wealth to pay them (the women) off or bury cases in the courtroom. There is no justice to stop him from molesting or assaulting women where ever he goes and to be frank I would not be surprised if he does it in the oval office with some poor intern.

“Can you believe that, with all of the problems and difficulties facing the U.S., President Obama spent the day playing golf. Worse than Carter.” - DT

Trump has hit a unique milestone having spent 22% of his time in office at his golf courses and single-handedly beat the number of times Obama was on the course in 8 years (36 times), just in 2 years with over 60 trips to the green. This is a low hanging fruit though as we all seen the pictures of the President's giant white ass golfing while we pay his expenses with our collective taxes. 

The real Sloth kicks in at the Whitehouse with his work day. He spends the early morning (9 AM to 11AM) with what he calls Executive Time where watches TV, Eats, Tweets, and Shits before he reaches his first intelligence briefing which he heard hardly holds his attention unless there are pictures, bullet points and his name inserted into the briefings. Just about 12pm he has an hour-long lunch (usually McDonald's) and proceeds into another hour and half of executive time IE Tweeting, TV, Shitting and probably eating some more. Before doing some light work and then retiring to his room and watching more Fox News where he live tweets policies as he watches the shows. 

Now, this is an account of his average day at the White House when he ISNT at his golf course and doesn't have some truck parked by the White House for him to sit in and act like he is driving. This is the 6th major sin and somehow Christians are not running for the hills and seeking better conservative candidates to support their values.

“I think the food is good. I think all of those places, Burger King, McDonald’s, I can live with it” - DT

We end off on Gluttony, I leave this one at the bottom because of the 7 sins its the only one that really doesn't affect us, it just his slow self-destruction from the inside of his gut (or heart) out. I imagine of all the things he has done this one simply makes him look the most relatable, he eats like most Americans do. Hell, even I make a late night stop at Jack in the Box or McDonald's even though I shouldn't. I guess what is most unsettling is how often he seems to be consuming McDonald's and the other fast food chains. On the road he ate KFC, Mickey D's, Pizza and Diet Coke ALL THE TIME, I don't think I can humanly do that. I don't think any of us can possibly do that without saying “Maybe today a Jamba Juice or Salad or just fucking water” but not Donald Trump.

So let's give him the benefit of the doubt and say the campaign trail is a hard place to make a proper meal but it didn't stop at the end of the election. He has a special button now for a coke being delivered to the Oval Office, he now has a cheeseburger before bedtime, he regularly orders chocolate cake from the White Houses kitchen and of course his Envy/Greed/Pride kicks in and whenever he has guests he has three scoops of ice cream while they are served one. I am not even sure why that pisses me off so much but it just shows how much of a douchebag he is that he makes sure he has more than everyone else in the fucking room.

“He knew what he signed up for.” - DT on LaDavid T. Johnson  

So Trump seems to embody literally all the sins in one human being, another achievement for the current President to put on his gravestone. “Sin. No one was better than me at doing them all.” I suspect if I was saying this to Trump supporter they would say something along the lines “We are all sinners, we all give into one of these at one time or another.” Which I would say yes, absolutely which is why we believe in the concept of forgiveness but forgiveness is a two-part exercise, on one hand, we need to be open and willing to forgive people as good human beings, while on the other side a person needs to seek forgiveness and express remorse for those sins. This is where Donald Trump fails and so do his Christian supporters who suggest we should forgive him for his past/current/future transgressions but I don’t think we should. No, not without remorse, reflection, and change coming from him for indulging in those sins. Trump is happy living in sin, he exercises them all daily with his lifestyle and these religious organizations seem to overlook this major character flaws in his morality for short-term political goals. This is where the moral fabric is tearing in society the most, where good people lend themselves to a man who sees’s them as a stepping stone for his own glory and they worship him for it.

I would feel remiss if I didn’t mention that no all churches follow Trump. There are a fair amount of churches that do not see him as someone noble or ethical and choose not to follow him. These churches, however, are the minority and outliers in the Christian Community and we should ask them to be the voices of descent to cripple the choke hold Trump has not only on the GOP but the religion of Christ itself. They should be denouncing him daily for his actions and if you know a church that doesn't support Trump then support them to raise their voice and make them sound like thunder so that those who have sold their souls or lost their way know they have fallen. Lord knows I am sounding preachy here at the end but I wanted to make it clear that there are good churches still and we should not bully them into acting because they have been meek in their response but rather support them and uplifting them higher than the mega-churches that have sold their souls to the Doctrine of Trump.

With Regards, Michael California

#Donald Trump #Politics #Religion #Seven Deadly Sins