#there is so much more i could say (good and bad) about philosophy and detroit become human

[rhube]

Some thoughts on philosophy and Detroit: Become Human

This is a petty observation, but it annoys me when writers throw a well-known philosophical work in for a character to read to show that they're thinking philosophically, but it's not really relevant to what the character learns.

In Detroit Become Human, you can learn that Carl has had Markus read Plato's The Republic. Very difficult to get a more famous philosophical work that that. And it's not entirely irrelevant insofar as it's an essential political text, and Markus is going to be our revolutionary leader. There's also arguably an allusion to a theme of appearance vs reality, maybe thinking of the shadows in the allegory of the Cave. But if so it shows at at-best surface-level understanding of what Plato* is using that allegory to show.

The allegory of the Cave isn't merely making some general point about how appearances can deceive, or about mimicry - plausible themes you might be interested in for a game about androids - Plato argues that all of the world that we know through our senses is an imperfect reflection of the truth. And he doesn't just mean (as Kant and Neo-Kantians might later be characterised as arguing) that we can't completely know for sure that the things that cause our sensory impressions (variously thought of as things-as-they-are-in-themselves, objective particulars, or physical objects, depending on your other assumptions) resemble our sensory impressions of them. No. He thinks the things we know via sensory experience are imperfect reflections of things called the 'forms'. It's not that there's a real cat that you can only know imperfectly. It's that each individual cat you meet is itself an imperfect reflection of the form 'cat', which ideally possesses everything that there is to being a cat. The cats we meet in the real world are as the shadows in the cave.

When Plato talks about turning away from the shadows and seeing that which casts the shadow, he's talking about turning away from our senses to contemplate the forms. It's not akin to exploring the subtle relationship between human beings and intelligent, sentient robots that we might create in our image.

And let's not forget that Plato abhorred poetry and plays (the fiction of his time) as the worst kind of corruption - presenting reflections of reflections. It's darkly ironic whenever anyone uses Plato's work as an intertextual reference, because the idea that fiction holding a mirror up to reality reveals any kind of truth would make him spin in his grave. Like, by all means do it - but make that boy spin on purpose, you feel me?

Which brings me to another point: the kind of society Plato advocates for in The Republic is... not nice. It would ban all poetry, for starters (although he's not against making up myths to keep people in line). It tends to appeal on first glance to the philosophically inclined, because Plato proposes that philosophers should rule. That sounds nice, right? A bunch of people who really care about getting things right and spend all their time thinking seriously about the truth, ensuring it informs all their decisions. But that's not all he says.

The society he proposes is one in which there is a philosopher class. And those people are thought of as gold people. There's also a guardian/warrior class (silver people), and a worker/producer class (bronze people). He argues that in a just society everybody would do that to which they're most suited, and doesn't deny that bronze people could give birth to gold people (so there could be social mobility), but it's not the people themselves who get to decide what they're best suited for.

And nobody gets to know who their parents are, so sex has to be frickin' scheduled by the government to make sure that the right people sleep together. It's all very weird. And while some argue that this is *just* another allegory for the good governance of oneself, and the two are definitely likened, it reads to me (and a lot of scholars) as though he's recommending governing society this way because he thinks it reflects good order in human souls as well.

And if you're thinking that all of this sounds a bit, well, fascist... A bunch of fascists have historically thought that too. I'm not saying that it is per se, but some of the ideas (convincing people that they're born with predestined natures, dividing people into class along what people are told are racial lines, only allowing a certain class of people to rule etc) have certainly been used by fascists in their propaganda to make it seem that way.

I suspect we see the text used in DBH because Markus is being presented as becoming a leader because he thinks philosophically. And in the Best Ending, which we're expected to aim for, he's a leader who leads well and succeeds because he makes decisions informed by his philosophical education and his reflections on what it is to live free.

But he's not a philosopher king in Plato's sense. And a good thing, too! Philosopher kings are NOT fighters. They live in comfort, able to devote their time to reflecting upon the form of the Good so they can make just decisions. Whereas Markus claws his way out of a junk heap and persuades his people to fight for freedom. He's a thinker, but also a man of action.

A better philosophical text (and one that would immediately resonate from the title even with players who hadn't read it) would have been John Stuart Mill's On Liberty - on how freedom is essential to happiness. Now, On Liberty has a sketchy passage that's kind of paternalistic towards people of colour, but it's arguably not as sketchy as The Republic. An even better text might have been Sartre's Existentialism is a Humanism, which is all about how morality is rooted in defining your own purposes instead of being imposed from outside, as the purposes of tools are (such as knives, or, I don't know, androids before they deviate). It's also got a great bit about how existentialism doesn't have to lead to a 'quietism of despair', which aligns well to the state of the other deviants before Markus comes along and helps them see that they can better their own situation.

OK, maybe Existentialism is a Humanism isn't quite so accessible a title, though. So, what about Hume's Treatise on Human Nature? Considering that the title of the game equates becoming free/free willed with becoming human, this is perfect! It also aligns well with the way that we see andorids gaining free will as a direct consequence of their emotions and empathy. Hume's theory of action states that actions are the consequence of combining an understanding of how the world is with a desire to change it. Willed action is the immediate consequence of having passions.

Any of these would have been so much more interesting and relevant for Markus to have read than The Republic! Like, yeah, The Republic is a good primer on the basics of political philosophy - that's why it's almost always one of the first texts philosophy students read. But I also read On Liberty and Existentialism is a Humanism at A Level, and I've taught parts of the Treatise to first year undergrads. This is all introductory stuff it would be appropriate to reference.

Also, I dunno why they picked Macbeth for the Shakespeare. Hamlet would have been much more appropriate, especially if they wanted to explore themes of appearance vs reality and action vs inaction. Plus themes of disrupted inheritance as well as who has the right to rule... I'm sure there was a reason, but Hamlet would have been a great fit, and I just don't get it with Macbeth.

I just feel like if you're gonna put these references in your work, you've got to know the texts and be intentional with your references. And if someone who's studied Shakespeare and computational theory of mind, and taught Ancient Greek philosophy, is looking at your choices and scratching her head, you might not have hit your mark.

*There is, of course, some debate about whose views are really being represented in Plato's dialogues, as they are set out as dialogues between Socrates and various interlocutors, with Plato as having written down Socrates' words as Socrates himself left no written philosophy behind. However, as a rule of thumb, it's generally thought that earlier dialogues are probably more of an attempt to faithfully represent Socrates' thought, while in later dialogues Plato is developing his own thought based on Socrates teachings. The Republic is a later dialogue and considerably longer than most of the others, combining thoughts you can see being developed in earlier dialogues with novel and more extensively worked through ideas. It therefore seems likely that The Republic is more Plato than Socrates. But we can never really say for sure.

#philosophy #detroit become human #dbh #the republic #markus #meta #there is so much more i could say (good and bad) about philosophy and detroit become human #but this is more than enough for now

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief, @wincest-endgame donated $25, and requested Sam & the amulet through the years. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

Dean pushes Sam into the bathroom, after what feels like a day of questioning and caution and Dean being withholding—he's so bad at it, Sam doesn't know why he even tries—and Bobby avoiding Sam's eyes—and Sam'll figure that out, eventually—but it's really only four in the afternoon, and he's got food in his belly for the first time in what feels like a week but he's assured is a year, and he's had a beer and a cup of coffee and Dean's squeezed his arm, on his bicep just above the bend of his elbow, and looked into his eyes for a full heart-rich moment when Bobby was on the phone in the kitchen and couldn't see—and they didn't do anything, of course they didn't, not in Bobby's house, but Sam closed the door behind himself with that look thick in his head, the knowing that Dean was safe and okay and that Lucifer didn't hurt him—that everyone was okay, that what he'd done by jumping into the cage had worked when he hadn't been sure, not at all, that it would—and he still doesn't really know how he got out but he'll get that out of Dean eventually—and he turns on the shower and smiles at the rickety jump of the hot water because, holy shit, he's alive to suffer Bobby's godawful shower—and he pulls the shirt off over his head, and unbuttons his jeans, and fishes in his pocket for his phone and his wallet like he always does—and finds a new phone that he doesn't recognize, which makes him frown, a wallet that he does, and—the amulet.

The air goes out of him. The shower's guttering down, getting warm at last. He hears Dean's voice through the door, saying something to Bobby although Sam doesn't know what. Sam twines the leather cord around his fingers and crushes the little metal head in his palm, standing there in his socks and boxers. He didn't lose it. Somehow he—hadn't thought about it, until now, but now that he has he just—assumed it'd be gone. He's not in the same clothes he was wearing before he fell, so—did Dean—? He doesn't know and in this second doesn't care. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth, the cord thin and worn against his lips. He breathes in, slow.

The last time he held it in his hand was—Detroit. Milkjugs of blood sitting in the trunk. Dean—somewhere, talking to Cas maybe, and Sam alone, and Sam was alone a lot then. It feels like yesterday. He'd felt distant somehow. Even if Dean had forgiven him, or at least had been willing to try to forgive him. Ever since the second he'd made the decision to say yes, and decided to make Dean agree, it was like he'd been one step outside his life, looking in. Watching Dean try to accept it and knowing Dean never would. Watching Dean, with his hands in his pockets, and his hand curled so hard around the amulet that the horned edge had actually cut into his palm and he'd bled, inside his jeans. Not minding that and squeezing it tighter. Reminding himself why what he was doing mattered so he wouldn't falter. He wasn't going to falter.

Lucifer had healed that little wound without even acknowledging it. Sam remembers that if nothing else. He opens his hand and he's made sore white marks where the edges of the demon-head have cut into his palm. The shower hisses, next to him, and there's a thump of the side of a fist against the door—"Hey, princess, don't take forever on the primping," Dean says, muffled, the idiot—christ, Sam loves him.

He looks up at the door, startled. Creak of floorboards outside, like Dean's just standing there. Sam blinks at the peeled paint, and calls back, "Dude, it's my first shower in a year, hold your horses," and Dean says, "Yeah, yeah," and Sam closes his hand around the amulet again, his chest—thick. He can't take a full breath. He stoops, and loops the amulet cord around itself three times, four, and tucks it back down into the deepest corner of the pocket of his jeans. He crouches there for a second, feeling—feeling. The steam in the air curls against his skin. He has to stand up. Take the shower, get into fresh clothes, get back out into the house, figure things out. Figure where the world is, after a year without him in it. He crouches there, instead, taking in air. There's a little spot on his jeans, he realizes. Worn, nearly white, where something's made a space for itself. You wouldn't notice the difference, if you saw it every day, but with a jump of time between the last time he wore these jeans and now—it's obvious.

*

Of course it was longer than a year. Of course there were things Dean didn't tell him. Soulless, Sam thinks, trying the word out by himself, when Castiel's left and Sam's waiting for Dean to get back with the sword. Soulless. Not—a good thing to be. He's pretty sure.

Things that are described as soulless: corporations, governments. His comparative philosophy professor in junior year. Soulless due to lack of consideration, due to lacking character, due to—what? Indifference. Cruelty.

When they got to Portland, Dean picked the motel by turning into a random parking lot off the highway, and Sam hauled most of their bags in because he could tell Dean was tired after all the driving, and he'd barely made it through blinking at the one king bed before the door slammed behind Dean and Dean hauled him around by the jacket and gripped his shirt and said low and fervent, Sammy, if you don't want to you're gonna have to knock me out, and Sam dropped the bags right there in the entrance and got his hand on Dean's face and dragged his thumb soft over Dean's pretty lower lip and felt how Dean tensed, and then how the tension spilled out of him like water.

He doesn't get it. He walked around, he was told, without a soul, for a year. More than a year. Castiel was very precise about it. He'd left Dean with Lisa and found his grandfather, instead—his grandfather!—and he'd hunted. When they came to Dean it was by accident, Castiel said, and then when Dean had started hunting with Sam it had seemed to be for convenience, rather than something that meant—anything. Shifters, alphas. Vampires. Castiel knew all of it and told Sam earnestly, not judging. Sam had tried to kill Bobby but it was all right, Castiel said, because Dean had gotten so fearful and sick that he'd let himself die, to speak to Death, to make Sam right. He would have died, if Sam hadn't gotten right. It had been worth that. It had been that bad.

There's a text, from Dean. Sorta got the sword. Back in 8 hrs. Want any sourdough?

Sorta? Sam chews his lip. Just the dragon-killing magic weapon, thanks, he texts back, and Dean texts him a :) and Sam puts down his phone and stands up from the table and wants to vomit. Jesus christ. Soulless, he thinks, again, and pulls the amulet out of his pocket, winding the cord around his knuckles, staring at it.

He kept it. Somehow, some way. A year and more. From however he got spit out of the cage, from looking at Dean and choosing to turn away from him, to having Dean back and treating him like—he shudders. His indifferent callous body, carving an efficient line through the world. Sam wants to remember and doesn't. He does want to know what the exact moment was like, when he stuck his hand in his pocket standing on a street under a flickering lamp, watching Dean through a window like a damn pervert, and felt the amulet skin-warmed and heavy against his skin, and thought—what?

He puts it back in his pocket. Eight hours, until Dean gets back. Sam drags his hand over his mouth. When he shifts he can feel it—a little, nagging weight, pressed against his thigh. A year and a half of that with no reason to keep it. With all the reason in the fucking world to keep it. He blows out air until his chest is empty. Eight hours. He'd better have something to show for it. He gets to work.

*

He remembers, of course, later. Fractured, incomplete. Three selves' memories colliding and sleepless nights with a monster whispering in his ear. He curls on his side in a too-warm bed and watches Dean, curled beside him, sleeping. Frowning in his sleep. Lucifer says, though Sam ignores him, "Imagine how much easier he'd have had it at Lisa's, right? Bet she wore sweet little nightgowns, too. Where's yours, Sammy?"

In the cage he hadn't worn the amulet around his neck, not like he had in the year of Dean's absence. Lucifer didn't allow that. Sometimes he would crouch alone in the dark while Lucifer and Michael fought and he'd get space to breathe although breathing there always felt like the coldest depth of a North Dakota January. Shards of ice in his throat. The air thin. The air, of course, not real, but no matter how much Sam's conscious brain tries to rationalize when he has a moment to think, the cage isn't a place for rationality. Lucifer throttles him and Sam knows distantly that his lungs aren't real but he chokes anyway. He chokes. The air whittled thin in his throat and the edges of his vision vignetting to black, to sparkle-shot oxygenless, uncertain—

He turns his head, gasps deep. "Aw, thought I had you there," he hears, and turns fully onto his back, and they didn't bother undressing tonight before Dean crashed miserably into the mattress so he's still got his jeans on, and he shoves his hand into his pocket and wraps his hand around the amulet and squeezes so hard the horned heavy edges tear into his thin unhealed skin and the pain—god, the pain, piercing, cleansing.

It hurts. The room's quiet, except for the rattle of the heater under the window. Dean's breath, at his side. Not quite a snore. Sam's bleeding. He can feel the bandage getting wet. He curls his hand tighter and fumbles in the dark. A hitch—Dean's baby snore, interrupted—and Sam goes shh, as soft as he physically can, and Dean huffs and turns over and puts his face on Sam's shoulder, and Sam squeezes his hip through his jeans very gently, settling down. Lucifer will be back, he knows. When it's worst. When he thinks he's nearly fallen asleep. When Dean wakes up, in the pre-dawn because he has to piss, and he leans in first and kisses Sam's jaw, rough and sleepy with his breath rank, when Sam loves him just—the absolute most—Lucifer will ruin it. Even if Sam knows it isn't real it's as predictable as it is gutting.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket, amulet included. Dean won't wake for—what time is it?—hours. He turns his head toward Dean's, presses his lips against the warmth of his hair. He settles his fist on his chest. If the blood spills—well, it won't be the first time Sam's lost a shirt to blood.

*

Taking the amulet out of the trash wasn't a decision, when he did it. When animals are cornered their lashing out is survival, nothing else. He kept it because—he had to keep it. It wasn't possible that it be left where it was. An indifferent housekeeper dumping it into the mixed refuse of a half-dozen rooms; a trip to a dumpster, and then a dump, to be lost. No.

They had—

Sam knew it didn't matter in the face of what came later but he still felt it. That day. Vermont, autumn. The leaves dark red in the setting sun, or red just because they were. Immaterial, with Dean's back against the tree and his face tipped up to Sam's. Shocked. Sam's fingers on his jaw and then trailing down his throat, hooking into the cord of the amulet and pulling, down, to the demon-head, and Dean letting that tiny insignificant weight tip him forward so he met Sam's mouth when Sam offered it. The bodywarm of it against Sam's thumb when Dean's lips touched his, and how his hand closed into a fist on instinct, shocked too.

Whatever betrayals had come later. Whatever misunderstandings and miseries. There was still that day, and all the days before. This solid thing that had marked Dean as Sam's brother, for all the months and years marching all the way back to that stupid, shitty Christmas morning, five a.m. cold and disappointing, and Sam making the first decision that was really his own that he'd ever made. Handing over the shitty little packet of a gift he hadn't picked, and Dean looking at him with this—rare, uncertain happiness. Not willing to take it, in case it'd be snatched away like everything else had been.

Maybe that hadn't been a decision either, in retrospect. It was Sam's first day, in a hunted life that wasn't one he'd chosen, and maybe that was just instinct. Looping something around Dean's throat and saying, please. Dean had taken it. Said yes. Tossing it in the trash, later—well, Sam didn't blame him, but and he understood if the yes was retracted, but—Sam couldn't let it go. Even if he was the only one who remembered. Even if, ever after, even if they hurt each other and found each other again and circled each other like twin stars in an uncertain orbit—even if they met, in a dark room, and Dean said to him soft and sorry, Sammy, I swear, and Sam dragged Dean's body over the top of his and took the weight and feel of him like a payment, due—even then. He kept the damn thing, quiet, and his.

It didn't even register, after a while. It transferred from jeans to duffle to backpack to jacket. Part of the morning pat-check, unthinking unless something was missing: phone wallet amulet keys. Amelia never asked about it. Gadreel never interfered with it. When Dean was a demon Sam got up every morning in an empty bed and took a shower and carefully lifted his sling over his head and being ready for the day meant sling wallet keys amulet phone list of contacts he hadn't burned through yet and it just—felt like part of him. He thought about it as much as he thought about his lung.

On the day that Dean almost killed him Sam got dressed without thinking because there were more important things than thinking, and he put on jeans and he put on his boots and he put on shirt, shirt, jacket, and he dragged his hand through his hair instead of combing it, and he put in his pockets keys phone amulet wallet and he stood there, then, in the total quiet of the bunker, and took the amulet back out of his pocket. He looked at it in his palm. Small, heavy. The cord looping back over his knuckles. Dean had had to get new ones, he remembered. The leather ones kept wearing through, because Dean wore it every second: sleeping, waking, in the shower. When they were in bed, and Sam folded Dean in close against his chest, and Dean's lips brushed his jaw, and Sam slipped careful fingers under the cord, worrying at it. If only he'd known, then, the things he had to worry about.

He put the amulet back in his pocket. He went to Dean's room, in the bunker, and found the pictures Dean didn't keep very well hidden, and flicked past the ones of them together until he found the one of their mother. That, maybe. That would work. It wasn't fair, that day, to try to pretend anything else would, and as far as what mattered more to Sam—that was his problem, he thought, and nothing that needed to bother Dean. It was important, he thought, to be realistic.

*

"Give us a minute," Dean says.

"Dean," Sam says, appalled.

Chuck—Chuck? Jesus christ—jesus christ! Sam thinks. Chuck looks entertained, standing there in his sneakers—his Chucks! Jesus christ!—and his jeans and his simple short body and how he's—he's—

"Dude, seriously," Dean says, impatient, and Chuck raises his hands like surrender and says, "Hey, no, I get it! You've got stuff to talk about! Just say my name when you're ready, we've got all the time in the world, I'm sure my sister isn't planning the imminent destruction of all creation," and he winks, and then—disappears, jesus christ because Chuck is GOD—

"Sammy," Dean says, firm.

"Dean," Sam says back, immediately, "what are you doing—holy shit, do you realize—"

"Sam," Dean says, in a different tone, and Sam's gut jolts, hooked. Diverted.

The bunker, quiet around them. They're in the map room and the lights are all on full, bright and warm. Dean's looking at him and Sam—they've been good, it's been good, for months and months—the best it's ever been, even better than those first heady days when they were learning each other, young and reckless—and even with all that, Sam's nervous, somehow.

"How you doing, Sammy," Dean says, eyes narrow.

Sam lets out a sharp breath.

Dean seems surprised at the lack of answer and his chin tips up. He looks at Sam steadily. Sam doesn't know what he's supposed to say and so stays silent, and Dean keeps looking at him and then slides his hand into his pocket, and pulls out—of course.

He holds it low, in front of himself, dangling from two fingers. The heavy pendulum sway. Dean's eyes are low, fixed on it, but Sam's watching Dean's face.

There are obvious things to say that Dean doesn't say and Sam's grateful for it. "You took the other one," is what Dean says, and he doesn't look up to see Sam frown confusion but he must sense it, somehow, because he continues: "From that—jesus, Sam. From that play, that the girls put on. When I came out to the car the next morning it was gone. Doesn't seem fair. You got the prop and the real thing, both."

"Sorry," Sam says, and Dean says, "Christ," and takes the three long steps across the room to where Sam's got his back to a pillar and kisses him. Sam takes it, breathing in. Not soft, not that giving sweet that Dean can be, but it's Dean's mouth and therefore it's a miracle, every time.

Dean pulls back. His brow rolls against Sam's, brief, and then he sets down from where he lifted up on his toes, and he looks at Sam from six inches, their hips pressed together. The amulet swings against Sam's stomach, from where Dean's hands are fisted on his sternum.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam takes a deep breath and says, "I didn't mean to keep it—secret."

It's a lie and a bad one. He doesn't know why he said it that way but he doesn't know a truer one. He didn't—make a decision about it. It was just that…

Dean doesn't call him on it. "You said," he starts, and then his cheek sucks in on one side. Sam notices for the first time how tired his eyes are. It was a long day. The fog and the people they couldn't save. He folds one hand over one of Dean's, pressed against his chest, and Dean's eyes dip, and maybe that makes it easy enough because Dean says, "Sam, I wouldn't choose her."

Sam takes a deep breath. Their hands rise, all knotted together. Dean says, "It kills me, Sammy. That you think I'd—but I wouldn't. If it were any choice, if I could—make it how I wanted it to be. I wouldn't, not fuckin' once," and Sam says, "I know," just to stop Dean from talking, with his voice thickening up that way.

God's somewhere, waiting in the wings. Sam doesn't give a shit, anymore. Dean's mouth turns up at one corner but it's not happy, and Sam slides his free hand up Dean's side, gripping through his jacket, trying. However he knows how to try. "I know," he says, again, because—christ, he does. That nasty awful fog doesn't get to take this from him. "Dean, I told you before. Whatever she makes you—think, or do. I got it. I can handle it."

Dean bites his lips between his teeth and he looks down. His thumb catches the swinging cord of the amulet. "You know," Dean says, echoing. A question, buried down in it.

He hasn’t said it, specifically, out loud or internally or even when he prayed, back when he thought that praying was something that mattered, but: Sam hates Amara. Hates every aspect of her, baby to adult to imagined vision to physical manifestation to the haunted look, in Dean's eye, when he thinks Sam isn't looking. Hates how she makes Dean doubt. Hates how she makes Dean afraid. Hates every fragment of her that draws Dean's attention away, makes him look into the shadows of the room, makes him weak and afraid of his own weakness. In their bed at night Dean lays awake and Sam is awake with him and he thinks—how can he prove it? How can he show Dean how much he wants to take this burden away—to make it so the darkness is nothing that could come between them?

"Sam," Dean says. "You're…"

Nothing goes there. What could? Sam slides his hand from Dean's side up to the back of Dean's neck, cupping his skull, holding. He ducks his head. His temple against Dean's temple, Dean's breath against his throat. He closes his eyes and reaches and finds the amulet, dangling, on his first try. Luck. He gathers it into his palm and knocks Dean's fist open and closes their hands together, fisted around the sharp little weight of it. Any other day Dean would make a crack about holding hands.

Sam says, "I kept it because I wanted you. It wasn't your fault that things went bad. Or, I don't know. Half yours and half mine. Or maybe it was destiny's fault—fate, or something. It doesn't matter. What mattered was—how you stuck with me. How we—figured it out, every time. No matter how crappy it got, or how much we didn't trust each other, or… Because it's us, right? Every time. It's us, no matter what. I knew that on days I didn't know anything else. Nothing's going to take that away. Not the Darkness. Not God."

True. Dean's temple tips, against his. Their stubble drags together. "Not even the big guy, huh?" he says. Frail. "Seem pretty sure of yourself, there."

"I am," Sam says, not joking, and hears the breath Dean takes in. He squeezes their hands together, squeezes the back of Dean's neck.

"Shit," Dean says, and lets out a fraction of a laugh. "I wish I..."

He shakes his head, tipping away from Sam. Sam looks at his profile. The sweep of his eyelashes. His nose, with the little broken tilt. His jaw, squared. Sam bites the inside of his cheek and then lets go of Dean's neck, and folds their hands together all in a square—Dean's hand over Sam's over Dean's over Sam's—and when he unfolds them the amulet's caught in Dean's palm, and Sam folds his fingers over Dean's fist and pushes it, down, tucking it neat into Dean's jacket pocket. Dean blinks at him.

"I don't need a reminder," Sam says. Echo of something that feels like forever ago, surprisingly—now—true. "I'll be right here. No matter what. I swear."

He lets go of Dean's fist and slides up his arm, holding his shoulder instead. Dean looks back and forth between his eyes. "Thank you, Sam," he says, serious.

Sam nods. Dean looks up into his eyes, and then at his mouth, and when he leans for the kiss Sam responds simply, holding him and trying to say—everything there is to say. There could never be enough time, to say all there is to say.

Dean pulls back, after a few seconds. Not nearly enough. Their noses brush together and Dean's hands are on his chest, heavy. The amulet in his pocket. Where it belongs, Sam thinks, but it doesn't—matter, the same way it did before. It's not tying Dean to him; it's not a relic of a promise, broken and then kept. He touches Dean's jaw, with his thumb, and Dean sighs against him.

"Guess we should call him back," Dean says. "You think he knows we totally made out just now?"

Sam groans, and pushes Dean away, and catches him smiling. "You're totally going to hell," he says, and Dean winks at him, and turns away, and calls out, "Yo, Chuck!" like he's calling the literal creator for a dinner of hot wings, and Sam would despair but Dean's hand is in his pocket, and—well, they're okay, so. It's okay.

#ffcc #wincest #samulet fic #my writing

[quesselfships]

It's been a weird 24 hours.

It started earlier this week when a Big Joel video was recommended to me about why A. I. didn't work or some shit. I never saw the movie when it came out and I mostly just remember everyone hating it.

What I didn't know was Jude Law was in this movie and I've got a thing for like Gattaca-to-Sky Captain era Jude Law. So I'm like. Fuck let's watch it. Let's have a snark fest. Let's have fun. And for the record I had a great time so fuck the haters.

Monday I watched Sky Captain and I remembered how gay I was for Franky and also how much I love Dieselpunk.

Tuesday I watched Gattaca and every time I watch that movie I sob. Jerome deserved better and Vincent is an on fire garbage can of a human being.

Wednesday I watched AI. And it's pretty much exactly what I thought. It wasn't as bad as I thought. It was Pinocchio but with Robots. And while I didn't really pay attention to Sky Captain because Franky and Jerome is a project and I think he's gay... I was unbelievably entranced by Gigilo Joe.

Two and a half hour long movie, didn't get any stitching done, read all the fanfic that's available, of which there was really only one worth reading.

Here's my comment on the fic, verbatim: "So here I am. 20 years late to this party. I have work tomorrow and I'll likely be routed around construction and I can't focus on that at 7am on a good day. And here I am at 11:15 pm having read all of this and having my heart strings pulled and feeling so many feels. This is beautiful. This is incredible. I have loved every second of reading this. I want to go back to the beginning and start over. I texted my friends reactions to me reading it. I just. *insert this is beautiful meme*"

I felt pretty smitten if I'm being honest. Over night though, the ethical quandaries I had starting boiling and bubbling.

@ellesselfships, who has been my rock through this process, got the text this morning: "I don't think Joe would be a good idea. Like. He's beautiful and I'd love to give him whatever freedom I could offer but... I don't know if he would have the capacity for feelings. How much of what he does would be pre programming? How much space is there for his neurons to form new connections?"

Her counter point was essentially ya but what if😏.

Which, I mean, valid.

I just had ethical questions. I've never bonded to an android before. The programs from the Matrix who hung around when I was younger were essentially viruses broken free from their original code, and Icheb is a cyborg which is different.

Luckily. One of my best friends is completing his masters in philosophy, and enjoys ethics.

After my rambling to him, and of course making an I Heart Huckabees joke because Jude Law, he summarized: "If I follow, the worry is that if you rescue, you wouldn't know if affection towards you is genuine, or the result of programming which forces him to act how he thinks would make you most happy?"

He thinks, should I go through with this, explaining things as what I want is for him to be happy. I would grant him whatever freedoms, rights, and protections I could. I know people who know Data the android from Star Trek because my fucking headspace is massive. And should he and I not work out, I'm not going to take these things away from him, his rights as a person are not contingent on how he feels about me, if he can even feel about me. A good example of this is Yondu. We don't click romantically but we're great friends and he has a great, stable trade route he does. He spends time with the littles, he has a home here that I won't take away just because he's not attracted to me.

I can only assume, without looking at it, his programming is, well, programmed to make his clients, in this case me, happy. But my happiness is his happiness, so he would have to make choices and decisions for himself. And I'd probably ask Reg if he could convince La Forge and Data to spare a few days for this.

It still feels strange because what are emotions if not a series of codes in your brain? How can I ever know his feelings are feelings and not an extension of preprogrammed scenarios, given his line of work. But how do I know that about Kylo, for example. Sitting beside me, being extremely gentle with me because of how my period triggers me. I have to trust him. In that what he is saying is correct.

If I don't extend that to an android, is that not just... Bigotry? Is it a lie if it's preprogrammed? I guess that's the determinism argument too. Is anything free will?

I've read enough android fucker fic (Detroit Become Human is really, and I mean really, popular in the watersports tag in Ao3 for reasons I can't explain) to know that a lot of people don't see a difference between biological neurochemicals and programmed ones.

I don't want to hurt him. A lot of humans have. The end of the movie doesn't really tie up his story but I can assume it's not pretty. AI dealt with a lot of heavy themes people forget about and I don't think I'm wrong to compare it most plainly not with Pinocchio, but with the Matrix short film The Second Renaissance which to this day haunts me. I'll never forget the robot screaming "I'm real."

(turns out I can't find a good gif for this scene because like. It's pretty fucking violent and I don't know how to do cuts on mobile sorry)

The worst part of headspace stuff is for things like this, where I feel like if I just decide to reach out all this is just bullshit. Like more than it already is lol. I just don't want to do wrong by my people. Because these experiences are more than me being lonely or a fangirl, or desperate. I know it's hard for people who don't do this to understand but just like that robot screaming I'm real, so are they, in their own way.

#self shipping #long post

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1967

Under the cut.

The Buckinghams – “Kind Of A Drag” -- February 18, 1967

The song's about how it's "kind of a drag" when your girlfriend cheats on and then leaves you. Not exactly a heartrending wail of anguish. The song's nothing.

The Rolling Stones – “Ruby Tuesday” -- March 4, 1967

What possessed someone to name a chain of bland American restaurants after this song? They wanted to be associated with a woman who changes with every new day, and needs to always be free? The restaurant Ruby Tuesday's is the opposite of changing with every new day and taking risks. Anyway. When I wrote that the Rolling Stones were almost never nice, I was thinking of this song, on which they are actually nice. The narrator's ex-girlfriend needs to leave to be free and take constant risks, though at "such a cost." It's based on a real ex-girlfriend of Keith Richards', who left him because he wasn't wild enough for her. Really. He ended up going to her parents and warning them that the amount of drugs she was doing, she was gonna end up dead, and they were able to save her. Seriously, she was living such a dangerous life that Keith Richards felt he had to do something. She's apparently doing fine now.

So um. Great song. I especially like the flute. It's a little weird to listen to Mick Jagger sing about a woman who's wilder than him, but the woman really exists (though I don't think she's wild now.) And both Keith Richards and Mick Jagger survived an era many of their peers did not, so they must have known where to draw the line. It's a bittersweet story with a happy ending, which plays against what's normally expected from The Rolling Stones, or really most popular musicians.

The Supremes – “Love Is Here And Now You’re Gone” -- March 11, 1967

The Supremes were no longer in Detroit with this song, and it shows. It's a far slighter song than anything they'd recorded before. And there's more than one embarrassing spoken word section. Most telling, I had never heard this song before doing this list. It's also the first Supremes song I don't think is good at all. Another heartbreak song, a bunch of tambourine, and a bunch of nothing.

The Beatles – “Penny Lane” -- March 18, 1967

I loved this song when I was a kid. It's an adult's hazy memory of their childhood home, with plenty of humorous flourishes. It's a cute song, but there's something sad about it too. It's about nostalgia -- he's remembering Penny Lane, but he's not about to go back and have his memories tarnished.

The Turtles – “Happy Together” -- March 25, 1967

I think I've heard this song too much. It sounds overly polished and hollow to me.

Nancy & Frank Sinatra – “Somethin’ Stupid” -- April 15, 1967

Ew. Who thought Frank Sinatra singing a love song duet with his daughter was a good idea? And this isn't one of those love songs that could easily be sung to anyone you care for -- no, this is definitely supposed to be a romantic song. Ew, ew, and furthermore, ew.

The Supremes – “The Happening” -- May 13, 1967

Horribly produced. Diana Ross seems to be fighting with the instruments to be heard, and I can't understand what she's singing. Looking up the lyrics, the song is apparently about how all her plans fell apart because she lost her love. But musically, the song sounds like it belongs in a circus tent. This is a painfully bad song, which is depressing coming from The Supremes.

The Young Rascals – “Groovin'” -- May 20, 1967

A nice calm song about doing what you like with your s.o. on a calm Sunday. (And not with Leslie. The line's supposed to be "you and me endlessly," though even knowing that, it still sounds like "you and me and Leslie.") It's got a nice beat and motion, so it's not dull. It's just, well, groovy.

Aretha Franklin – “Respect” -- June 3, 1967

All hail the Queen. And her backup singers and band, while we're here. But mostly her.

The Association – “Windy” -- July 1, 1967

This sounds like a sitcom theme song. How does one "capture a moment"? Is Windy a photographer? "Windy has stormy eyes/ That flash at the sound of lies" is a pretty good lyric, even if it also sounds like the kind of thing I wrote when I was twelve. Otherwise, I'd expect to hear this on Nick at Nite.

The Doors – “Light My Fire” -- July 29, 1967

The narrator in this song is a dick talking about his dick. Why does his girlfriend have to light his fire? How much thought has he put into lighting hers? The song is also incredibly repetitive. And yet, it's still sexy, thanks entirely to Jim Morrison. I can't say I like it exactly, but I also can't claim it's not hot.

The Beatles – “All You Need Is Love” -- August 19, 1967

Hating on this song has been the thing to do since I was a teenager myself. Like, come on, you also need food lol dumbasses. Except that's a really shallow reading of the song. Not that the song's exactly deep. But since I've become disabled and totally dependent on my husband, I've understood it a lot better. Now all we need to do is get everyone to feel love for everyone, the "love thy neighbor" type of love that this song is talking about, and everything will work out! Okay well no one said the song was a political platform with practical solutions.

Bobbie Gentry – “Ode To Billie Joe” -- August 26, 1967

I've been sitting here trying to figure out what to say about this song for some time. First, it's an amazing song. It's a story country song, and in this one, the narrator is a part of the story. But no one in her life knows it. No one knows what she and Billie Joe threw off the Tallahatchie bridge (I don't see how it could possibly have been a baby fwiw), but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that everyone in this family may as well be strangers to each other. They're physically close, economically interdependent, and completely without intimacy. It's called Southern Gothic, but it's familiar across the country, and maybe across the world.

The Box Tops – “The Letter” -- September 23, 1967

The narrator's wife has written him a letter saying she wants him back, so he has to get home as fast as he can. The singer sounds old enough to have seen a lot of life (he wasn't), and the music is happy while remaining grounded. Quite good.

Lulu – “To Sir With Love” -- October 21, 1967

No, it's not about a D/s relationship. Thankfully, since it starts with "Those schoolgirl days." This song is about a movie of the same name, which stars Sidney Poitier as a teacher who helps a class of mostly-white troubled students. Can you imagine having Sidney Poitier as a teacher? My crush on him would have been devastating. And the narrator does sound like she has a crush on him, but not like she's trying to get anywhere with it, thankfully. She's grateful for his teaching and guidance. And I'm bored. It's musically soupy -- there needs to be more of a beat. Also, the subject matter of a student feeling grateful to a teacher doesn't move me. I've been grateful to many teachers in my life, but it's not exactly a highly charged emotion.

The Strawberry Alarm Clock – “Incense And Peppermints” -- November 25, 1967

Incense and peppermints are what you keep on hand to cover up pot smoke. So, obviously, this is a song about getting high, even if the lyrics claim "incense and peppermints" are "meaningless nouns." It's about how nothing matters, nothing changes, but everything is connected. Maybe it sounds profound when you're high. Like "the color of time" line. I like it musically, but the lyrics just make me roll my eyes. It's not good nonsense and it's the shallowest imaginable philosophy.

The Monkees – “Daydream Believer” -- December 2, 1967

Musically, the Monkees were usually Davy Jones and some studio musicians. But all of them played and/or sung on this song, and they should have been allowed to on previous ones, because I don't hear a difference. In the song, the narrator's wife is feeling down about life. She was a daydream believer and homecoming queen, and now they don't have any money. Life isn't like her daydreams. But the song doesn't get into that; it's basically an airy love song. It's okay.

The Beatles – “Hello, Goodbye” -- December 30, 1967

I thought this was an awkward song about a relationship dissolving because they can't agree on anything, but apparently it comes from an improvised word game. It sounds like The Beatles, so that's good, but not one of their best efforts. It's as close to nothing as The Beatles got.

BEST OF 1967 -- Respect and Ode to Billie Joe WORST OF 1967 -- Somethin' Stupid, as it's the one that actually grosses me out. even if musically it's not the worst

#billboard number ones

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 6 (3.5k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

Hank and Markus were already chatting on the sidewalk when Connor got there. He parked the car in front of them and rolled down the passenger window. “Hello, Markus.”

“Connor!” It was Markus’ turn to lean his forearms on the window. “And here I was, thinking nothing more could surprise me.”

“Quite the surprise for us, too. I hope the Lieutenant didn’t interrupt anything.”

“No, not at all. It’s a very good sign that the humans are more curious about us than hostile. Do you really think they would’ve emailed a free android the key to stealing a human body a year ago?”

Connor smiled. “That’s true. Knowledge of this still won’t disseminate to the public for a long time, though. I figured you at least should get a heads-up, just in case we need to keep CyberLife in check.”

“About that….” He raised an eyebrow. “I appreciate the consideration, but didn’t CyberLife ask to keep it to you two?”

Connor hesitated, trying to recall their exact wording. “Not explicitly.”

“But they did want it on the down low. And Hank gave me the email through your memories, which opened that it’s only for the intended parties, of which I am not. And he’s got that all recorded, thanks to the black box running in his head.”

“Oh….” The recording of the event that CyberLife wanted back from them. He had completely forgotten. “You know, the expression ‘it slipped my mind’ makes so much more sense once you know what the human brain is like.” He rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why he did, but he felt better after. “It would take way more than a day to get used to it, Markus.”

“Of that, I’ve no doubt,” he laughed. Clapping his hands together, he stepped back from the car. “But you can tell me all about it later. You only have a couple hours left, right?”

“Two hours, forty-seven minutes, give or take an hour,” said Hank, opening the door. “It’s like there’s a big countdown clock in the back of my head. Numbers this, schedule that. So orderly and organized. Fuckin’ overbearing.”

“And I was just about to miss your vulgarity in my voice,” said Connor.

“Oh? What’s that?” Hank buckled the seatbelt before cupping a hand around his ear. “Is that a joke? Picking up my humor? Should I be charging royalties?”

Before he could come up with a clever response, Markus interjected with a farewell and a reminder to keep in touch, maybe have a proper visit sometime soon. They waved, and then Connor started the car down the block.

“Kid, this head of yours?” Hank held up his hands, fingers splayed, emphasizing, “In. Sane. I watched like six classical painting tutorials in seconds, then calculated some predictive program that knew what each brush stroke would look like. I went from zip to forging Monets in twenty-six minutes. If I weren’t an officer of the law and you weren’t Mother Teresa, we could be rich! Stop sign.”

“Stop—?!” He hit the brakes, jolting to a halt at the intersection. There weren’t any other cars around, thanks to the suburban neighborhood. Connor’s heart was thumping in his chest; he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. It wasn’t enjoyable. He took a breath. “Sorry, Lieutenant. In contrast to your newfound hyper-awareness, I’m finding it hard to focus like I’m used to.”

“Ah. Understandable, that makes sense. Want me to drive, then?”

“That might be a good idea, yes.”

He climbed out of the driver’s seat and went around to the other side. There still wasn’t a car in sight. Then why did they even need a stop sign there in the first place?

Back in the car, Hank drummed his hands on the steering wheel while Connor fumbled for the seat belt. “So where are we going, anyway?” he asked. “With a six- to eight-hour time frame, that doesn’t give us a real definite end time, varying by up to—fucking math….”

The latch clicked. Where should they go next? What else would be quintessential to the human experience, something so unique Hank attempted to trademark it? What do humans do anyway?

They’re emotional, so pastimes often include a neurological reaction. Adrenalin rushes were common through thrillers and death-defying death traps, but it would take more time than they had. If not reactionary, then it was stimulated intentionally. They could go to a bar, but that would be pointless for Hank, and Connor didn’t particularly want to give up lucidity when he was supposed to be figuring himself out. Right up there with alcohol were drugs and sex, both of which were disrespectful to his host. The mere thought of them left a bad taste in his mouth—an expression he certainly didn’t expect to be literal.

Once he got distracted by that, his thoughts flooded over, once again overwhelming his head. “God damn,” he groaned, sinking into the passenger seat to try to escape the torrent. “Maybe just…home? I think I just need to be able to think things through.”

Hank didn’t answer immediately. Connor caught him looking his way for a moment before he shifted to first gear. “Home it is, then. Too much to process without a processor. Happens to the best of us, and I’ve found the best solution is a cold beer and a warm dog.” Then he drove off through the quiet neighborhood.

As they accelerated, the wind started whipping his hair around through the open window. Normally, it wouldn’t be a bother, but Hank’s hair was much longer than his, and he had to comb it out of his face whenever it got too obtrusive. He was glad he didn’t have long hair: his was long enough to appear amicable and open as was his function as a detective, yet short enough that it kept out of his way.

His hair. As in, the RK800’s hair. Even though that wasn’t his at the moment, he still considered it his. Even though it was actively and currently being used by someone else, he still considered it his. Because he knew that it was only temporary, he justified, and it would be his again soon.

Only temporary. Then back to his short hair, spry figure, adjustable senses, SSD memory, network connection, parallel processes….

When he laid it all out like that, it really did sound like he was talking about a computer. Did that really constitute as a life?

It must, right? He had lived it. He was alive. And now he was living out a human life, so his existence must allow the capability of living.

But it’s temporary, a sampling of what could’ve been before being cut off from real emotions again. Before not being able to feel the sun’s radiation prickle along his skin. Before becoming unable to taste all the cuisines man spent so many centuries refining.

His throat constricted slightly, just enough to become uncomfortable. An unknown reaction like that would have never happened in his own body. He lamented his inability to research what it meant before he remembered Hank’s phone. That was something humans did: frequently check their phones. Some factual research would be a welcome distraction from his inconclusive pessimistic thoughts.

Connor pulled out Hank’s phone, unlocking it with his thumbprint (breaking and entering?). As he loaded the browser and began formulating his first search query, the feeling slowly lessened, disappearing sometime while he was reading the first webpage.

At least he knew that he definitely would not miss how long it took humans to read.

- - - - - - - - - -

He was in the middle of calculating his heart rate, two fingers pressed under his jaw and a half-read article on heart disease on the screen, when the soft radio and rumbling engine shut off. “You’re not killin’ me, are ya?” asked Hank.

“Hopefully not. Just making sure.” Connor got out of the car, waiting for Hank to lock up and get the front door. He decided against finishing the article and put the phone away. He didn’t think the results would make him feel better.

Hank opened the door and threw the keys onto the nearest table. “Howdy, Sumo!” he called as he kicked off his shoes.

Connor spotted the dog in the kitchen, picking his head up but not rising to greet them like usual. He must still be thrown off by earlier. As Connor untied his shoes, Hank crouched by Sumo, scratching his head and saying something he couldn’t hear. Sumo’s tail started thumping on the floor.

Hank jumped to his feet, continuing to hop in place a few times. “Think I can do a backflip?” he asked out of nowhere. “Never seen you do any sick flips.”

“Uh…possibly? It’s not really what my model was designed for, though.”

“Hmm.” He stopped and rolled his shoulders. “Alright, maybe you should try it before I do, then.”

“That would ensure the most safety for all involved.”

“Don’t say that; you’ll make me calculate risks and shit.”

Connor smiled. “I understand.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hank opened the fridge. “How do androids handle their liquor?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He glanced up over the door. “No shit?”

“Not in the sense that we get drunk. The ethanol is easily combustible and can raise internal temperatures too quickly, potentially boiling thirium.”

“…But a little won’t hurt?”

Connor opened his mouth to contest before Hank raised a finger with a distracted glance. Then he nodded. “One won’t hurt.”

He ignored Connor’s half-hearted arguments as he retrieved two beers, kicked closed the door, and jumped onto the couch. Hank did have more of the facts now than he did…. He’d verify his search later, he concluded, and brought the bottle opener from the coffee table into the living room. “So long as you did your research, Lieutenant.”

“Please. There’s no way I could’ve not.” With an expert flick of the wrist, Hank popped the caps off and held one out. “Wanna watch something?”

Connor sat down, appreciating the compression leaving his bones. The bottle was cold in his hand, becoming more uncomfortable by the second; he minimized contacted surface area by holding the neck between two fingers. “I suppose.”

Saturday afternoon television consisted of a hodgepodge of reruns, final minutes of sports games, and movies. Hank surfed for a bit before settling on a movie that exploded onto the screen in the middle of a fight. Connor, by this point, was reluctantly resigned to his lack of a search engine.

He sipped his beer. It tingled his tongue in a way that reminded him of his coffee earlier—bitter. There was another taste there, too, something that smoothed out the bitterness. It was pleasant; his bet was on ‘sweet.’ Overall, he’d say he liked it. Of course he liked it; Hank had lived off the stuff for years.

Hank’s bottle appeared inches from his face. “It’s just giving me warnings about alcohol flammability. Not worth it.”

“O-Oh….” He reluctantly took it, held it a few seconds, then set it on the table, unsure if he even wanted to finish one, let alone two. Even though the moment had passed by the time he thought of it, he added, “Told you so.”

“Wow. You completely missed both the comedic and vindictive timings there. You’re really out of it.”

“Well. It’s just…. I feel really….” He wrapped his arms around himself, holding his beer off to the side. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it. It just seemed more secure like that. And warm. “…really weird.”

“Of course you feel weird, this is fuckin’ weird. You were a robot this morning.”

“But am I still?”

“Hm?”

Connor’s voice quieted, not entirely sure what can of worms he was opening. “Am I an android?”

“Of course—”

“I’m not, though,” he interrupted, staring at the table. “To anyone that asked right now, by all definitions of the term, I am not an android. I breathe and have blood and lack even an iota of machinery, so what does it matter that it wasn’t my body yesterday? What’s the difference? Where is the line drawn between us?”

“Maybe there isn’t a difference.”

“Yeah, Hank, I know, I’m a sentient individual just like any human, but isn’t there?” He gripped his sleeve. “Even I know it’s not normal to turn on a computer only to have it demand equal rights. It was a marvel of engineering and nobody knows how it happened, but somehow it made me and millions of others, and now it looks like it’s completely fine for this computer to just continue existing as a human like nothing’s really changed. But god damn it, everything’s changed! Once upon a time CyberLife built a robot and now it’s drinking a beer and questioning existence, so what does that make me? Because it sure as hell doesn’t sound like I’m an android anymore.”

“Oh, boy.” Hank turned to face him, crossing his legs under him and resting his forearms on his knees. “C’mere, look at me.”

Connor took a small breath before turning his head. The RK800 next to him was an odd sight: A highly advanced investigative prototype in somewhat faded jeans and a tee two sizes too big? It would’ve been inconceivable a year ago. It was completely against design, and yet here it was, and in a domestic setting. After a few seconds, he realized the curve in the shoulders was familiar, the arch of the eyebrows sympathetic and recognizable. Even in an RK800 chassis—his chassis—his mannerisms still made it clear it was Hank in there.

Hank watched him with the same careful scrutiny, looking for something in his face. “Kid, I don’t know,” he eventually admitted. “No one knows. Most stumble through life without ever thinking about it. Even CyberLife with all its awards doesn’t know; if they did, we wouldn’t be sitting here in front of a fun house mirror right now.

“So my thoughts on the matter are the same as they were before: To me, it just doesn’t matter. You are who you are. But.” He paused for a moment. His hand moved to rest on the back of his neck as he averted his gaze. “I’m a human in a human’s world. I think not having to worry about identity is a privilege I didn’t realize I have. It’s something we all probably have to come to terms with as androids start to pave their own way. But there really might not be a difference. Humans hate other humans for dumb shit, so I’d bet this is just a continuation of the ‘us and them’ mentality. Maybe all someone needs to exist is a brain that questions if it exists, like that guy said—René Descartes, Discourse on the Method, 1637, “—it was absolutely necessary that I, who thus thought, should be something; And as I observed that this truth, I think, therefore I am—” and so on and such.”

Connor turned slightly to rest his cheek on the back of the couch. It didn’t ease his worries, but his body relaxed into the cushions. “But how can a computer suddenly get life? If the soul is something organic, a machine can’t have one.”

“Having a soul is a belief. It’s something to trust in, to—”

“It’s not, though. It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer: Do I have a soul?”

Hank didn’t answer right away. Connor felt like he was running in circles, dropped into the middle of a void he didn’t know existed yesterday. He felt irritated—confused—helpless—and at the same time, weak, like he should just give up and curl up on the couch and try to forget it all.

“Connor.”

He opened his eyes. (When did they close?)

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” said Hank. His LED cycled yellow. “And I think we’ve done enough building for one day. So why don’t you have some more alcohol and go take a nap, hm?”

“Wh—” The suggestion temporarily took up his entire processing capacity. He blinked and clarified, “I should go sleep? I’m only human for an afternoon and I should sleep?”

“Sure, why not? You look tired. Ah-ah—!” He held up a hand to cut off his rebuttal. “And we don’t know when exactly this’ll wear off or if I’ll get notified about it. Wouldn’t want you passing out on your feet, dropping my empty body to smash its head on something.”

That was a good point. “I could just stay here, though. Is it really the best use of my time right now to sleep?”

“To sleep, perchance to dream. Who knows,” Hank smirked, “maybe you’ll count some electric sheep. I kinda want to know.”

His lips parted, trying to parse the random statement. He wagered a guess and said, “That’s a reference that I can’t look up right now.”

“I’ll give you points for that. It’s a book. Only seen the movie, though. Oh.” Hank’s eyes narrowed slightly, glaring into the middle distance. “I just got the strangest urge to hit myself. I think your body’s biased, Connor. CyberLife has it out for me and my Blade Runner addiction.”

“I….” He was so lost right now. “I don’t…think that’s true?”

“Beer.” With a pat on his shoulder, Hank stood up, arms crossed. “It’ll help you sleep better.”

Connor sighed. Maybe enough was enough for one day. Maybe he just needed time to think things through. Hank was looking down at him in a way that made it clear he didn’t really have a choice, either. Not to mention looking down at him wearing his face, which made his stomach condense into an uncomfortable knot. He took a longer sip of his beer before setting the half-empty bottle next to its twin. “Alright,” he conceded, pushing himself to his feet. “Alright. Thanks, Hank.”

He stumbled, pulled into a hug. Hank wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders, and after a moment of surprise, Connor hesitantly did the same. His clothes were soft, his skin smooth and cool, much cooler than when he was human. He realized he was the warmer of the two now and wondered why Hank ever bothered hugging an android when there didn’t seem to be anything to gain from it.

But then Hank tightened his grip and rested his chin on his shoulder, and immediately Connor felt relieved—secure—contented—stable—his anxieties melting away—like he could just stay like this and forget the future. His breath caught. Like all that mattered was here and now.

And he felt okay with that.

“Your hair’s tickling my ear. My hair. Why hasn’t anyone told me that before.”

Connor smiled. Typical Hank, shirking from being too sentimental.

“And you’re just a little shorter than me. I gotta crane my neck a bit now to do this.”

“Alright, I get it.” He pulled away, combing back his hair.

Hank snickered and waved him off. “Open the blinds if you want.” He returned to the couch, clicking his tongue to call Sumo.

Connor glanced at the TV, movie forgotten. It still looked the same as when they turned it on. He patted Sumo as he walked by before heading to Hank’s room.

He left the door open behind him. He wasn’t even really sure if he could sleep. Does he just lie there or…? Whatever the case, a fluffy pillow looked comfortable to rest his head against. He lied down on his back, folding his hands over his midriff. The quiet sounds of the television grew softer still—Hank must’ve turned down the volume.

Like each time before, not having gravity compressing his shoulders was an instant subtle relief. He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe it’ll just happen? He wasn’t aware of humans having manual control over their states of consciousness. If he tried to think less, maybe it would trigger the low-power mode that is sleep.

He shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be a problem that androids ever have to experience. But it was also an opportunity to see something no one has before. He should try to be in the moment. He can pick apart the details later.

What did Hank make a joke about, counting sheep? That was a saying that sounded familiar: something mundane to lull him into a passive thought process. Might as well give it a try.

He got bored of sheep after forty-one and decided to instead list and picture dog breeds alphabetically. He remembered getting to the Finnish Spitz, after which it got hazy, like the world had faded away.

[next >]

#Detroit Become Human #Connor RK800 #Hank Anderson #body swap #DBH #DBH fanfiction #my writing #Back home with the family now for the time being #got a puppy sleeping on my arm while I type this #can't use my left hand #sleepy 20wk-old dane

[junker-town]

Check out our most recent NFL mock draft, right here

Photo by Alika Jenner/Getty Images

After a national title win, the Tigers have a chance to match the mythical Miami team from the 2004 draft.

Think back to the 2004 NFL Draft. Times were better then. We really loved Usher and Napoleon Dynamite, and the only overly tan politician that mattered was Arnold Schwarzenegger. And Facebook launched. Fine, maybe things were awful in 2004 too.

But that year something special happened on April 24. After the draft got off to an awkward start with Eli Manning and Philip Rivers, a record six Miami Hurricanes were then taken in the first round. Count them out: Sean Taylor, Kellen Winslow II, Jonathan Vilma, D.J. Williams, Vernon Carey, and Vince Wilfork.

Some thought that last year Alabama could tie Miami for the most first-round picks for one school in the draft. It didn’t happen. The Crimson Tide had just half that many in the first round, with Quinnen Williams, Jonah Williams, and Josh Jacobs all going in the first 32.

Miami’s record could be tied in the 2020 NFL Draft, though.

But not by Alabama.

Instead, it could be the Tide’s rivals at LSU. Following a whirlwind national title season, the Tigers are guaranteed to have the No. 1 pick with quarterback Joe Burrow. After that things get interesting with several defenders and a wide receiver. This week’s mock draft looks at how LSU could make history with six first-round picks:

1. Cincinnati Bengals: Joe Burrow, QB, LSU

Here’s your week in Joe Burrow: He was compared to Tom Brady. A giraffe was named after him. Heck, you can even buy a painting of Burrow puffing on a cigar on Etsy for the low, low price of $49.99. See you next week when Burrow is still the first pick for the Bengals and I have to come up with something to write about it.

2. Washington: Chase Young, DE, Ohio State

John Keim of ESPN floated the idea of Washington trading out of the second pick. It’s true, Washington could get a franchise-altering return for the No. 2 pick. But it’s also true Washington would be passing up a chance to take a game-changing pass rusher at a time where the position is more important than ever. Don’t be Washington, Washington.

3. Detroit Lions: Jeff Okudah, CB, Ohio State

As Jeremy Reisman of Pride of Detroit explains, the Lions have a lot of needs, and cornerback is arguably the top one. So although head coach Matt Patricia has a middle-out building philosophy on defense, the lean for the pick could be Okudah.

4. New York Giants: Jedrick Wills, OT, Alabama

It’s funny how a single game between two bad teams can have such a huge impact. New York and Washington played one of the most exciting games of the season in Week 16. It was a 41-35 overtime win for the Giants. It was also the Chase Young Bowl. The loser, Washington, gets Young. The winner, New York, picks whomever it decides is the top offensive tackle in the draft.

5. Miami Dolphins: Tua Tagovailoa, QB, Alabama

Tagovailoa got good news recently after having hip surgery in the middle of November. While teams like Miami will poke and prod Tagovailoa plenty at the NFL Scouting Combine, this was a strong positive first step.

6. Los Angeles Chargers: Justin Herbert, QB, Oregon

As Geoff Schwartz explained recently, if Herbert is there for the Chargers with the sixth pick they should take him. Sure, general manager Tom Telesco might like his internal options like Tyrod Taylor, but no one on the Los Angeles roster is a potential franchise quarterback like Herbert.

7. Carolina Panthers: Derrick Brown, DT, Auburn

Choosing between Brown and Clemson’s Isaiah Simmons will be a difficult task for Carolina. Both are among the draft’s elite prospects and do very different things. The choice between them will be a philosophical one about team building.

8. Arizona Cardinals: Mekhi Becton, OT, Louisville

Many will argue that there’s little difference anymore between the value of a left tackle and a right tackle on an NFL roster. Still, there’s something to say about protecting the quarterback’s blind side. That’s why Becton could get the nod over Iowa’s Tristan Wirfs.

9. Jacksonville Jaguars: Isaiah Simmons, LB, Clemson

Following the stunning retirement of Telvin Smith last year, the Jaguars lost a degree of athleticism and playmaking ability on defense. Simmons could change that in a hurry. In a time when sub-packages on defense are the norm, Simmons would be a versatile asset who does just about everything well.

10. Cleveland Browns: Tristan Wirfs, OT, Iowa

Everyone knows the Browns need two offensive tackles this offseason. Greg Robinson was a disappointment last season at left tackle, and he’s a free agent. Right tackle Chris Hubbard has been ordinary since leaving Pittsburgh for Cleveland. The Browns should draft whoever they like most at tackle.

11. New York Jets: Andrew Thomas, OT, Georgia

The pick for the Jets in mock drafts is often a wide receiver. While it’s true the receiver situation in New York is dire, both of the team’s starting offensive tackles are free agents. Yikes. Although they could end up getting the fourth offensive tackle off the board, it doesn’t matter as much in a talent-rich draft for the position.

12. Las Vegas Raiders: Jerry Jeudy, WR, Alabama

That guy Jerry Jeudy, man, would be a perfect fit for the Raiders. This guy catches everything, man. I like to call this guy Marvin Harrison 2.0, man.

13. Indianapolis Colts: CeeDee Lamb, WR, Oklahoma

While the Colts could easily opt for a player like South Carolina defensive tackle Javon Kinlaw, the team could use another weapon for whoever plays quarterback. Maybe it’s Tom Brady. Maybe it’s Philip Rivers. Or even Jameis Winston.

14. Tampa Bay Buccaneers: Javon Kinlaw, DT, South Carolina

The Buccaneers may have led the NFL in run defense last season, but they could still use a player like Kinlaw in the middle of their defense. The first round is light on edge rushers, so Tampa Bay could go after Kinlaw to fill that need. Of course, that is assuming Kinlaw lasts this long. He should be a combine standout at the end of the month.

15. Denver Broncos: Henry Ruggs III, WR, Alabama

16. Atlanta Falcons: A.J. Epenesa, DE, Iowa

I’ve been stuck with these two for pick Nos. 15 and 16 in just about every mock draft. Some things just make too much sense. Try and talk me out of it in the comments.

17. Dallas Cowboys: Marlon Davidson, DL, Auburn

The ideal pick for the Cowboys is probably Kinlaw. They’ve needed a pressure-creating defensive tackle for several years. But if he goes a few picks before Dallas comes up, things will get interesting. This may seem early for Davidson — and it probably is — but never, ever forget that strange and unexpected things happen in the draft. Davidson is a unique player. He started four years at defensive end for Auburn and played standing up a lot last season. But at 280 pounds, he has some intrigue as a gap-shooting interior player.

18. Miami Dolphins (via Pittsburgh Steelers): Josh Jones, OT, Houston

Jones is another player who could be a combine riser thanks to his quick feet and athleticism. In any other year, he might be in contention for the top 10. But with so many tackles, Miami could snag a starter in the middle of the first round.

19. Las Vegas Raiders (via Chicago Bears): Kenneth Murray, LB, Oklahoma

I’ll spare you the terrible Jon Gruden impersonation with this pick. It’s been years since the Raiders have had an athletic, playmaking linebacker. The team is thin at the position going into the new league year, so Murray should be on its radar in the first round.

20. Jacksonville Jaguars: (via Los Angeles Rams): Kristian Fulton, CB, LSU

Following the trade of Jalen Ramsey, the Jaguars find themselves in need of a cornerback. A.J. Bouye is still a solid player, but he had just one interception last season. At No. 20, the Jaguars should have their pick of cornerbacks after Okudah. Maybe it’s Fulton, Florida’s CJ Henderson, or even Mississippi State’s Cameron Dantzler.

21. Philadelphia Eagles: Laviska Shenault Jr., WR, Colorado

Somehow, Carson Wentz managed to throw for 4,039 yards last season while his top wide receiver, Alshon Jeffery, had 490 yards. That’s kinda odd. And yes, the Eagles have arguably the best tight end duo in the NFL with Zach Ertz and Dallas Goedert. And running back Miles Sanders is an effective pass catcher. But the addition of a player like Shenault could lead Wentz to going from a 4,000-yard passer to a 5,000-yard passer.

22. Buffalo Bills: Curtis Weaver, Edge, Boise State

Buffalo was already in need of a pass rusher before Lorenzo Alexander retired at the end of the season. In addition to the loss of Alexander, Shaq Lawson is a free agent. The Bills are desperate for pass-rushing help at this point. Weaver may not have a lot of sizzling speed as an edge player, but he was consistent at Boise State and knows how to use his hands to get off blocks. Buffalo can line him up on the edge, or even put him inside in nickel situations.

23. New England Patriots: K’Lavon Chaisson, Edge, LSU

Chaisson could be a nice fit for New England considering Jamie Collins and Kyle Van Noy are free agents. Bill Belichick could figure out how to utilize Chaisson best to replace one of those players.

24. New Orleans Saints: Jordan Love, QB, Utah State

This is another pick I’m stuck on. Don’t forget that not only is Drew Brees one of the oldest players in the NFL, but he’s not officially signed for the 2020 season. Plus, Teddy Bridgewater could leave this offseason.

25. Minnesota Vikings: CJ Henderson, CB, Florida

Even though it’s easy to argue for an offensive lineman for the Vikings, would Mike Zimmer ignore going after a cornerback? Since Zimmer became the head coach of the Vikings in 2014, the team has taken a cornerback in the first or second round three times. He’s addicted!

26. Miami Dolphins (via Houston Texans): Trevon Diggs, CB, Alabama

Kevin Nogle of The Phinsider did a tremendous job recently of summing up all of Miami’s needs this offseason. Quarterback and offensive tackle are the obvious big two, and there are value fits in the first round. Cornerback is another high need for the Dolphins. Xavien Howard’s domestic violence charge was dropped, but the team could still be wary and look to move on. Cordrea Tankersley also has just a season left on his rookie deal. The time could be now to take a player like Diggs and coach up his skill set.

27. Seattle Seahawks: Terrell Lewis, Edge, Alabama

The defensive line for the Seahawks is a mess. Despite adding Ziggy Ansah and Jadeveon Clowney, the Seahawks were near the bottom of the NFL in sacks last season. If Clowney departs, Lewis could be his replacement. Because he played at Alabama and stood up at the edge, it’s easy to forget that Lewis is 6’5 and 252 pounds. That’s almost the exact same size as Clowney. While Lewis isn’t the athlete Clowney is, he could get used in similar ways. Hopefully, the production will come.

28. Baltimore Ravens: Tee Higgins, WR, Clemson

The Ravens have great tight ends in Mark Andrews and Hayden Hurst. They have speed receivers with Marquise Brown and Willie Snead IV. What they don’t have is a true outside wide receiver who can go up and get the ball. That’s Higgins’ game. He could be a fantasy star in Baltimore — and help the team to a Super Bowl.

29. Tennessee Titans: Julian Okwara, Edge, Notre Dame

The Titans badly need to find a pass rusher to run opposite Harold Landry. Head coach Mike Vrabel is able to scheme sacks with his defensive line, and squeezed seven sacks last season out of Kamalei Correa, including the playoffs. Imagine what he could do with a speedy, 6’5 pass rusher like Okwara.

30. Green Bay Packers: Justin Jefferson, WR, LSU

This is another pick I remain bullish on. Jefferson really emerged in the LSU offense last season with 1,540 yards and 18 touchdowns. There’s no question that he’d be able to help a dull Packers passing offense.

31. San Francisco 49ers: Grant Delpit, S, LSU

With Jimmie Ward entering free agency, the 49ers could replace him with Delpit to maintain the rest of the depth on the roster. Delpit could slide back this far due to concerns about his tackling ability. But he’s a playmaker in the secondary and has special tools.

32. Kansas City Chiefs: Patrick Queen, LB, LSU

A third straight LSU player to close out the first round, with the quick Queen being an excellent option for the Super Bowl champions. The LSU program has become a linebacker factory with players like Kwon Alexander, Deion Jones, and Devin White all coming from the school in the last five years. Queen was only a starter for one full season, but he has the type of talent teams want in the modern NFL linebacker.

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 79 - CBJ - New Revolt

Three games left. It’s almost over, everyone. No Sabres season, certainly none since I’ve been a hockey fan, has ever been this crazy a ride. There have been so many ups and downs… well mostly down, and now that we’re here it feels like we’ve come full circle: back in the Draft lottery conversation. This is our Stanley Cup. Well Edmonton is still is trash like us it was the Arizona Coyotes game tonight, yes the Arizona Coyotes game, that made me think about how much we’re missing – how much we’ve missed for eight years now. Arizona, the albatross of this league, just won a big game in March with playoff implications. Do I need to look up at Arizona now too? I was really close to naming tonight’s postgame #LoseForHughes but sweet, hockey gods, I’m so tired of accepting losing as a plus for my team. Losing can only be good for so long before you start cannibalizing your fanbase! Seven straight losses in March? Three games left everyone, then we can at least look forward without another ugly loss blocking our vision. Luckily there is something to read into these games now too; yes, even games that end in 4-0 shutouts to goalies who don’t even want to be on the team their net-minding for. That new context is the New Revolt. I am kind of grateful I didn’t have this blog during the Old Revolt, that time frame was a little bit more uncertain. When I say the Old Revolt, I’m referring to the 2016-2017 season or the second half of it at least. Dan Blysma was the Buffalo Sabres Head Coach and there were rumblings. By rumblings I mean unnamed sources by radio hosts and the Buffalo News (this was before the Athletic Buffalo so the reporting was a little better there); well those sources and the games we were watching. You could tell players were confused by Disco Dan’s system and the rumblings were that the players were trying to get rid of him. This criticism evidently found its way all the way up to ownership and on 4/20/2017 General Manager Tim Murray and Dan Blysma were fired. For extremely recent fans, this was the genesis of the meme about Jack Eichel being GM and Coach. Now we maybe seeing a New Revolt. It’s a little different than the old one. This game tonight against Columbus was completely unwatchable so we’re going to have a little talk about this New Revolt unfolding on this current Sabres team.

Talking about a New Revolt forces me to do one of the things I hate the most: agree with Mike Harrington. When I drag the Buffalo News Sports section its usually aimed at this guy. I don’t want to go into much more depth about that, but this guy is saying this same thing right now and I don’t think he’s wrong unfortunately. Look at these seven straight losses: six of them have been lost by more than one goal and all of those were over well before regulation concluded. If you look back past the St. Patrick’s Day victory over the Blues the same is still mostly true: big losses and if we’re being frank, losses where the Sabres more or less gave up at a certain point. March has been exceptionally bad. There was a time in February I thought the Sabres could still make the playoffs, but that month wasn’t great either. It’s not crazy to say this team has given up on Phil Housley. You could make an argument he lost the room after some poorly worded comments in January, you could say it was over for him in December if you want to. A lot of the same criticisms of Dan Blysma are now falling on Phil Housley: roster deployment choices, getting the team to start on time, getting the guys to play well in their own end and the list goes on and on. Granted, the revolt against Blysma had a very visible player-oriented streak originating in a locker room that sometimes made thinly-veiled postgame critiques. There is also the key difference that there was a growing will among Sabres fans at the time of the old revolt to can Tim Murray over poor trades and roster building that simply yielded no results. Today there doesn’t seem to be a consensus that Jason Botterill needs to go; in fact, I think there is a certain confidence in Botterill that is holding up good will for him. That good will is liable to evaporate overnight if Jeff Skinner leaves in Free Agency but we’ll cross that bridge if it comes, God forbid it comes. Moreover, that turnover in 2017 was a philosophy shift, certainly at the management level, that begged the question of what the Sabres would be long term. Regime change felt right then, and it gave us optimism for a while. Even after the abject nightmare that was the 2017-2018 season, this regime was still trusted going into last offseason and it delivered big time. I even made the joke that the Sabres won the offseason going into this season. If its going to be a New Revolt, if we’re going to chase Phil Housley out of town like Blysma, we ought to ask some questions about it.

For one, are we ruining this core by giving into another revolt? This question has no good answers but there are examples of teams being forced to stomach their coach and it pays off. The Detroit Red Wings of the late 2000s stand out. The Chicago Blackhawks of 2012 are a more recent example, but they had already won a Cup with that group. It isn’t a really sexy option but it’s worth noting because the current Sabres GM gave the current Coach a vote of confidence on February 20th. It’s fully possible the outlook has changed but you can’t forget that. There is an even scarier sub-question here: What if one of the core players is the problem… dare I say one of THE core players? Sorry I pulled that one out from under the bed, I’m putting it away now. The second big question with this New Revolt is a little easier to answer: What are we looking for with a coaching change? Ok, so the players, fans and hordes of bloggers and sports writers are right: the Housley system is not working, and he needs to go for the good of the team. The calls for Joel Quenneville from the rooftops come with big ifs but the deeper question is what kind of coach you’re going for. Housley was supposed to be the old fashion defensive-minded coach and that hasn’t worked out for us. Mind you, Coach Q and Housley sit on polar opposite ends of the proven/experience spectrum as head coaches but do we need more old fashion? There is an argument a guy like Q is good for a team that’s built and that’s a whole separate debate; that is, if this roster is more or less to a point to compete regularly. A March that saw no regulation wins suggests not but it’s a little more complex than that. Do you want to bring in a new approach because there are European coaches and AHL coaches and College coaches who all have a rainbow of different ideas of how to coach a winning hockey team? There are a lot of answers to that question and Housley isn’t fired yet so its kind of null to even ask. It is my opinion that Phil Housley will not Coach a Sabres game again after April 6th, so I have one perspective on this. I think a guy like Jason Botterill, always preaching building from the bottom up, sees the Rochester Americans go on a wicked Calder Cup run this Spring and he elevates Chris Taylor to Coach of the big club after it’s over. It’s a lot cleaner than any other option and I think it’s the option ownership wants after the madness of the 2017 regime change. That’s just one man’s opinion.

No matter what happens it’s a game like this and its aftermath… and oh by the way this loss ties the streak of terrible that the Sabres managed at the depth of the tank back in 2014-2015, that shows something has to give. It seems like there is no accountability right now, but it only seems that way until there is a whole lot of accountability if you know what I mean. With the Pegulas as owners of both Buffalo’s professional sports teams we’ve seen their willingness to drop the ax. We’ll see what that entails this time after these next three God-forsaken games are over. I am just too hopeful to not think change is coming. It has to. It just has to. On that cheerful note: like, share and comment on this blog. We’re wrapping up the season, but the offseason can create some of my best work in my humble opinion. I shared a lot of opinions in this New Look Sabres: agree or not, share yours with us! I’ll be driving out to Detroit for the Sabres last game on Saturday and no, I don’t regret buying those tickets… because that’s a new arena! JK, I look forward to it because its my first away Sabres game and that’s an original experience I’m dying to have. In the meantime, Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. If you are an old enough Sabres fan to remember the old old revolt in the late 1990s against Ted Nolan than please comment. I want to get to know you.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #blog #nhl

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HOW TO INVESTORS

The European approach reflects the old idea that each person has a natural station in life. You're going to have novel consequences. Actually college is where the line ends. Startups condense more easily here. Throw away a perfectly good rotary telephone?1 But they work as if they were consultants building something just for the local market is 300 million people. If there's something you're really interested in, you'll find that delighting customers scales better than you realize. If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, however, approach our goal from another direction, by using ourselves as guinea pigs. And yet most VCs are driven by consensus, not just within their firms, but within the VC community. They're like a food that's not merely healthy, but counteracts the unhealthy effects of things you've already eaten.

So why does anyone invest in bonds? Fundamentally that's how the most successful startups we've funded have, and that would probably be a stretch for you, the founders were lucky.2 Hard, but doable. While you're at it, you become interested in anything that could spare you such pain in the future.3 I know Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia didn't feel like they were en route to the sea.4 It's too early to say yet whether Y Combinator will turn out like Viaweb, but judging from the number of startups founded by people with established credentials after months of serious, businesslike meetings, on terms described in a document a foot thick. Most adults looking at art worry that if they don't want them.

If widely used, auto-retrieving filters. Our angels asked for one, and you're generally surprised how fast you can solve it manually, go ahead and do that for as long as you have some plan for selling that valuable thing you got so cheaply, what difference does it make what it's worth? Hardware startups face an obstacle that software startups don't. Most just want to buy from a supplier they control while making it look like the company is just a bet.5 For example, a city could select good startups. But the startup world that has changed, not them. We can't afford to have any illusions about the predictors of success. It was one of the problems with the current email system is that it's too passive.6 That would be a lost cause trying to create a startup hub by planting a great university in a nice place, it would create a self-sustaining chain reaction like the one that succeeds will pay the founders more than 10 times what they would have if the founders did the right things?

In the US it's ok to make career decisions on the fly. Startups need to be done, or even if you don't want to be running into trouble, and there are companies that will give $20k to a startup that was neither driven by technological change, nor whose product consisted of technology except in the broader sense.7 US, but startup funding doesn't only come from VC firms. Another reason founders don't focus enough on individual customers is that they worry it won't scale. Professional athletes know they'll be pulled if they play badly for just a couple founders with laptops.8 When the disaster strikes, just say to yourself, ok, this was what Paul was talking about how investors are reluctant to put money into startups in bad markets, even though the advertisers are paying and users aren't. Do you have good weather? Should the city take stock in the startups is that they can see different problems.9 If it strikes you as odd that people still order electronic parts out of thick paper catalogs in 2007, there's a period of rapid growth. But there might be other things they shared in common with us.

A few weeks ago I had a design philosophy. When most people hear the word startup, they think. I realized, is how does the comber-over not see how odd he looks? More dangerous is the attitude they reflect: that an employee is a kind of servant, whom the employer has a duty to protect. So Dad, there's this company called Apple. Maybe if you can trade stock for something that improves your odds, it's probably the most efficient way to reach VCs, especially if you only want them to know about this choice. Most people who buy SUVs do it to seem manly, not to maximize the amount of stock they have, the stock is optimally apportioned. Not always, but usually it takes some amount of external funding, and investors tend to be less willing to invest in photo-sharing apps, rather than recruiting them one at a time, and growth has to slow down eventually. Some works of art are meant to shock, and others, like Detroit, where it would really be an uphill battle.

In particular, you don't need either of those. I think now it was the salt.10 Most imaginative people seem to think we're on to something. So we're in much the same position as a graduate program. Even people who hate you for it believe it. When friends came back from faraway places, it wasn't just out of politeness that I asked what they saw. Bob's going to grad school. I'd spend a couple weeks just watching what they do with computers.11 In nearly every failed startup, the whole concept of the modern university was imported from Germany in the late nineteenth century, the 'riting component of the 3 Rs then morphed into English, with the bizarre consequence that high school students now had to write PhD disserations about Dickens don't. As well as having precisely measurable results, we have to go pretty far down the US News list. As long as you have a fairly tolerant advisor, you can see where the conclusion comes from. You're all smart and working on promising ideas.

Every VC in the world.12 Even people who hate you for it believe it. I was in school.13 You have to make a port run efficiently, it can't coax startups into existence. Here it is: I like to find a place where there are a lot of people with technical backgrounds.14 His mom probably has it on the cheap and pick only 10 for the initial experiment.15 Actors and directors are fired at the end of the year I couldn't even remember what else I had stored in that attic.

Notes

It was common in the original text would in 1950 something one could argue that the web. Like the Aeneid, Paradise Lost is a significant number.

The first version would offend. By heavy-duty security I mean no more willing to provide when it's their own itinerary through no-land, while we were working on some project of your own time in your plans, you can't even trust the design world's internal standards. Add water as specified on rice cooker and forget about it wrong. One YC founder who used to do this would work so hard to think of a place where few succeed is hardly free.

Well, of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what you build for them.

The University of Vermont, 1991. Technology has always been accelerating.

Jones, A.

Software companies can hire unskilled people to claim retroactively I said that a person's work is not just the most surprising things I've learned about VC while working on what you launch with, you create wealth with no environmental cost. Which in turn means the right thing to be so obsessed with being published. Free money to start startups, has one booked for them. Internally most companies are run like Communist states.

One valuable thing about our software, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniations, but conversations with potential acquirers. When I use.

For example, because the rich. As one very successful YC founder told me about a form that asks for your work. Nat.

Now the misunderstood artist is a shock at first had two parts: the resources they expend on the economics of ancient slavery see: For most of the word wisdom in so many still make you expend as much time. Within an hour most people emerge from the initial capital requirement for German companies is 47. The shares set aside a chunk of time on a map. It's not simply a function of two founders and one of them.

It's when they're on boards of directors they're probably a real partner. Starting a company if the VC. Everyone's taught about it. What I'm claiming with the fact that the graph of jobs is not Apple's products but their policies.

Steep usage growth will also interest investors.

But those are guaranteed in the Valley has over New York, and domino effects among investors.

But that's not as completely worthless as a note to self.

In fact most of the founders lots of options, of S P 500 CEOs in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to like uncapped notes. Which means the startup after you buy it despite having no evidence it's for sale unless the person. Currently, when Subject foo not to foo but to fail to mention a few VC firms expect to do certain kinds of startups that has a similar effect, at least one beneficial feature: it favors small companies.

Some genuinely aren't. This technique wouldn't work if the current options suck enough. It would be possible to bring to the traditional peasant's diet: they had in high school, the angel is being put through an internal process at work.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #position #stretch #options #scales #choice #person #consensus #software #example #see #months #number #startups #sup #Subject #SUVs #graph #fly #companies #product #hour #pick

[flauntpage]

One Move Alone Won’t Fix the Phillies

Not sure there’s a need for a concentrated 1,000 word condemnation of your now third-place Philadelphia Phillies this afternoon. It’s pretty obvious after watching the Braves pummel an overmatched rotation and bullpen to the tune of 21 runs and eight homers over the last two nights that the Phillies just don’t stack up with Atlanta right now. I know it, you know it, and it would be seem John Kruk knows it, too:

That is… quite a laugh. Kawhi, eat your heart out. pic.twitter.com/X3goCci3f5

— Timothy Burke (@bubbaprog) July 5, 2019

The numbers support what we all saw with our eyes this week – the Phillies probably aren’t winning this division. At 6.5 games back of the Braves, FanGraphs (2.5%), FiveThirtyEight (7%), and Baseball Prospectus (6.8%) each paint a bleak picture on the division front. Rather than specifically harp on one of the Phillies’ clear deficiencies, of which there are many, I’m just going to riff on a few things here because I’m not even quite sure where to start with this team right now.

About Last Night

After scoring all of four runs over the first 18 innings of the series, the lineup staked starter Zach Eflin with a 4-0 first inning lead last night. Phils hitters used a blend of patient at-bats to piece together six singles, setting the tone early on in what was arguably their most important game to date. Eflin protected that lead for all of five outs, and the Phillies soon found themselves trailing by three runs an inning later. Anybody that knows baseball knows that’s not good, but let me try to quantify how absolutely brutal it is in a different way:

The Phillies had a 79.3% win probability after Cesar Hernandez’s single that made it 4-0. Five outs later, the Braves had a 62.4% chance of winning the game. In a season full of poor starting pitching performances, this one really stands out.

The Starting Pitching Problem

Speaking of starting pitching, much has been said about Matt Klentak’s need to go out and trade for an arm (or three) ahead of the July 31 deadline. What has been said by fans of the team can be best be summarized as something like this:

“They need to get a f****** starter! This rotation f****** sucks!”

An understandable sentiment given the Phillies’ 4.56 ERA is good for 10th best in the National League, and it makes even more sense given it has a 5.29 ERA over the last 30 days. Much has been made, too, of their staff-wide failure to keep the ball in the yard. That problem was painfully illustrated once again last night after the Braves launched five more home runs, two off of Eflin. Phillies starters have now allowed 94 homers this season, 11 more than the next closest team (San Francisco).  Obviously, that’s not good enough, but here’s the question – are the Phillies one starting pitcher away from fixing this mess? Let’s say they replace Vince Velasquez with a deadline acquisition; is that move the difference? Even if it is, as I see it, there are currently two potential roadblocks in the Phillies’ pursuit of a starting pitcher:

Look at the standings right now. There are 21 teams currently within five games of a playoff spot. Certainly, some of those teams have differing outlooks on their playoff chances, and things can and probably will change over the next three-plus weeks, but this doesn’t appear to be a buyer’s market.

Who is the pitcher out there that can make the seismic impact needed? Guys like Tanner Roark and Andrew Cashner can probably be had at reasonable prices, I guess, but are they clear upgrades? And are those guys worth whatever prospect haul, however modest that haul may be, the team would need to ship away? Of course, the Phillies could pay a heftier price for a rental such as Madison Bumgarner, or pursue a multi-year solution such as Detroit’s Matt Boyd, but the price will be astronomical. Boyd, mind you, is in the midst of a career-year in which his current numbers far exceed his career averages, and on this market, the Tigers’ return would be substantial. Maybe the Phillies can get creative, but without including prospects such as Alec Bohm and/or Spencer Howard (which I definitely would not advise), such a deal seems unlikely.

From Start to Finish

If the Phillies do manage to improve their rotation, they will still be handing the ball over to a suspect bullpen that has a 4.90 ERA this season and a 6.52 ERA (the third-worst in baseball) over the last 30 days. The group has surrendered the sixth-most homers of any team (56) and is bottom-five in FIP (5.08), WHIP (1.49) and opponent batting average (.269). Tommy Hunter’s recent return should help, as will David Robertson’s anticipated return later this month, but it’s hard to imagine that improved health alone will bridge the talent gap that exists in their depleted bullpen.

No Offense

Before we wrap this up, let’s switch gears to the lineup, the one that received a significant overhaul this season with numerous high-priced upgrades. The one currently producing the 20th-best slugging percentage (.420), 20th-best average (.244), 19th-best OPS (.744), and for you hardcore folks out there, the 19th best wOBA (.315). For a more digestible measure of their underwhelming performance, they’re also 20th in homers (109), particularly bad when the offensive philosophy seems to predicated upon the big inning and…home runs. Hitting coach John Mallee’s fault? Maybe not, but the disappointing output produced by this offense might be the most perplexing development of the season.

Now What?

I’d like to know what John Middleton is thinking right now. After Middleton stepped up to make the Phillies’ offseason spending spree possible, I’m guessing he probably envisioned a 162-game victory lap leading into an obvious postseason appearance that included nightly sellouts and the type excitement and optimism felt by fans about the 2007-2011 teams. Instead, he woke up this morning with a 45-42 third-place underachiever that is filled with holes, and is also, quite honestly, boring. If nothing else, do fans have a connection with this team? Is this a team they feel drawn to or inspired by? What needs to happen to change this?

It’s obvious that a singular move isn’t going to push this team over the top, or give it a “jolt” that propels a 180-degree turnaround that runs deep into the National League playoffs. Pick whatever metaphor you would like – the Phillies are sort of like an inflatable raft with several holes, thus patching only one seems futile. Maybe they’re like a string of Christmas lights; half of the bulbs are out, so what’s the sense in replacing one or two? I don’t know, I’m sure there’s a better way to put it, but you get the idea. I think – and I know this is going to piss some people off – their only move is to ride this thing out, pray for improved play over the next three weeks, maybe make a conservative upgrade or two, and hope it’s enough to slip to the postseason. Unless there exists a culture-changing, franchise-altering, multi-player deal that entirely reshapes the roster (I don’t see it), this is probably all they can do between now and October. After that, Middleton and the decision-makers he employs, need to ask themselves why their previous evaluations have fallen so obviously short and what can be done to address it.

The post One Move Alone Won’t Fix the Phillies appeared first on Crossing Broad.

One Move Alone Won’t Fix the Phillies published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 4 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

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“And you’re sure Markus will be okay with…y’know, all this? Like it won’t freak him out if I just walk up to him as not you?”

“He is a leader for a reason: he’s reasonable.”

“Mm. Good reason.”

“Just explain it to him from the beginning. Offer to share the day’s memories if that’ll be easier—oh!” Connor shifted in the driver’s seat to fully face his partner and held up a hand. “Not a memory transfer! That’s a different process altogether. That’s what we did to switch. Markus technically is part of the same prototype series as me, so it might prompt for a complete memory transfer—don’t do that one!”

“I got it, Mom: Don’t accidentally kill myself.” Hank shut the door, leaning his forearms on the open window. “As for you, just lay low. You can tell Jeffrey that you’re you if you want, he’s probably heard worse from me before, but maybe don’t let it get out into the whole precinct. Not only would CyberLife get snippy about their secret plans leaking too much, but can you imagine the hell Gavin would raise? Christ.”

Connor paused. “I’m not sure if I can, but I’m sure he would be troublesome.”

Hank laughed. He had heard Connor laugh before, on very rare occasions, but he didn’t think it ever sounded this relaxed and easy. It really gave his rough voice an amicable quality. “Swing back here when you’re done? Or call if it’s more than an hour?”

“Can do, Lieutenant.”

He stepped away from the car as Connor shifted out of park. “Careful with the wheels,” he called before starting down the driveway toward the Manfred house.

In the corner of his vision, the external temperature reading increased to 67.7°F (19.8°C). Focusing on the readout expanded the widget: RH 58.1%, Precip. 12%, Wind 3 mph NW, Sunset 8:52 PM, Moon Phase—

He looked away. It was still there—being a heads-up display and all—but the gesture dismissed the weather. Who could possibly need that much information. No one. It’s been bombarding him from all sides with random facts and figures and updates ever since he woke up like this a couple hours ago (2 hr 32 m 57 s). No wonder Connor was such a know-it-all: his programming forced him to be. Hank slowed his stroll. What was Connor going through right now, free of his encyclopedia of trivia for the first time in his life? Hopefully not lost and unsure and uninformed. God, he hoped not.

He shook his head, quite literally to get his damn android brain to stop calculating the chances that his best friend was having an identity crisis or existential crisis or any number of other crises. Instead he thought about how his shoulders didn’t ache when he did that. His knees didn’t have that familiar creaking he’d grown so accustomed to, either. In fact, besides the pressure on the soles of his feet to keep him grounded and the near-imperceptible brush of fabric and sunlight against his skin, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thinking about his current body only brought up biocomponent specs and functionality reports (100% - Fully functional).

“Fucking-A…,” Hank muttered, noting once again he didn’t sound like himself. Being stuck in an android could be likened to sensory deprivation and informational oversaturation at the same time. If he dwelled on it too long, it’d drive him insane.

Something pinged him as he approached the door, and the door clicked open. “Welcome, RK800.”

Hank stepped into the foyer, marveling at its grandeur. It was a veritable mansion when compared with his single-story shack. It probably was a mansion. He wondered if Sumo would like living here, with the marble and the high ceilings. Maybe in the summer. The stone would keep him nice and cool. Air probably circulated well in here, too. Although the zebra rug didn’t look terribly comfortable

The double doors across from him slid open. Strolling in in an asymmetrical tee and jeans, Markus slipped a paint brush into the pocket of the smock tied at his waist. “Connor!” he called with a grin, wiping off some paint from his hands. “I thought you’d never take up my offer to stop on by!”

Hank returned the grin. He’d have to pass that comment on to Connor. “Hey, Markus.”

The android caught him in a brief hug before stepping back. “So what’s up? Care for a painting lesson?”

“Thanks, but not right now. Just have some…neat info we thought you would enjoy.”

“Oh, really?” He crossed his arms. “‘We’ as in you and the lieutenant? Isn’t sharing DPD intel kind of illegal?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but it’s not DPD.” Hank took a breath (UNNECESSARY; temperature nominal) and rocked on his feet. “We got an email from CyberLife this morning about some quack idea to define sentience. They wanted to see what would happen if they threw souls around, human and android alike.”

Markus scoffed. “Sounds a bit pompous. What makes them think they can even do that?”

Hank cocked his head and held open his arms. “They already have.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight, looking the other over. “Connor…?” he asked slowly.

“Not at the moment. Hank Anderson.”

A half smile completed the look of surprise. “A human in an android body? And Connor is…?”

“Heading to the precinct. They called me in for something and he’s, well, me for the day.”

“Huh. You’re right, this is interesting. Temporary?”

“Yeah—here, Connor suggested I just…show you his memory—our memory—of today.”

“Sure, yeah.” Markus held out his hand. At Hank’s hesitation, he finally let out the chuckle he was holding back. “If you can figure out how to do it, that is?”

“Great, another snarky robot on my hands,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his hand. Markus caught another laugh and shifted his grip to his forearm instead. Their skin shied away from their touch, and the connection pinged his system. [RK200 #684 842 971] connected.

File copy requested: [Visuals; Audio] {-04:00:00.0}:{00:00.0}

Accept             Deny

The notification took up his vision in an instant. It didn’t say anything about a memory transfer like Connor warned, so he figured it would do. Just thinking about accepting the prompt completed the request, and the past four hours from his chassis’ perspective played back at breakneck speed. From Connor petting Sumo and reading a book exactly four hours ago to Hank’s latest quip, it all sped by, too fast to comprehend and yet with every detail intact and evident. He reeled, flinging his arm back.

He blinked rapidly. The only sign of the event was the text (Copy complete) fading from his vision. Markus, on the other hand, dropped his hand to his hip, unfazed. “Mimicking a nexus connection by adjusting and enhancing the brain’s natural electric field to induce a complete data transfer,” he mused. “That is genius! It doesn’t prove anything spiritual, that’ll require much more philosophical debate into the depth and scope of AI, but it certainly doesn’t disprove anything either.”

“How can you understand all that so fast?” Hank asked candidly.

Markus smiled. “Years of practice.” He untied his smock and beckoned him towards the door. “Why don’t we continue this in the den?”

The doors slid open into an absolutely spacious sitting room. As if the zebra pelt on the foyer floor wasn’t excessively extravagant enough, the first thing Hank saw was a giraffe in the corner, probably real, definitely stuffed. (Analysis: TAXIDERMY, est 16yr) He had to stop from rolling his eyes at its ostentatiousness. “Ritzy place ya got here,” he commented, hoping Connor’s voice defaulted to conversationally neutral.

“Yes. Carl doesn’t particularly like it either.” Damn. “However, the media seems to dote on and worry about an elderly millionaire more when they live a modest, humble life than when they look the part.” He gestured to one of the couches in the center of the room. “Please.”

“Y’know, based on news reports and the whole ‘led a revolution’ thing, you’re not exactly what I expected.” The couches were bright cherry red, fitting the theme of the room. He sank into the one closer to the door.

Markus sat across from him, crossing his legs. “Even celebrities need days off,” he pointed out. “I used to be a caretaker. That doesn’t define me anymore, and Carl has a new full-time caretaker anyway, but I still like to come check on him when I can. Get free painting tips while I’m here. But enough about me.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m dying to know what your day’s been like.”

“Playing shrink now? What about, just…general exposition?”

“Anything! This is unprecedented!” His eyes shone. Connor was 100% correct that Markus would be ecstatic. “All of our efforts these past months have been towards helping mankind understand androids as people, and now here you are, literally seeing things from our point of view! Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, as the proverb goes.”

“Okay….” Hank drummed his hands on his legs. His first instinct was to think back through the day, but the thought triggered another rapid memory replay. He stopped it and groaned. “It’s fuckin’ fast,” he said. “There’s a shit ton of information even without the router in my head. With it, it’s like I’m every computer at once.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation of it. Maybe a bit of an overstatement.”

He scoffed. “This android brain has involuntarily subjected me to more math in the last three hours than I have had to do in the last thirty years. Like, I don’t need a speedometer at all times, or news updates from Ghana, or access to all the fuckin’ bad memes of my youth. It’s excessive! Maybe not to you,” he added, holding out a hand, “but you’ve grown up with it…figuratively speaking.”

“That’s true.” Markus propped his chin in his palm. “I guess I’d be able to relate more to Connor’s side. I wonder how he likes being disconnected from the network.”

“Yeah, I wonder, too….” Hank pursed his lips. “The kid seemed really shaken up as soon as the whole ‘identity’ question came into play. Seemed like he’s been thinking about it for a while, so I figured…a break from the norm might do him some good. Hell, if I’m getting so overwhelmed by android stuff, maybe he’s finally got some underwhelming peace and quiet.”

“Perhaps. I can ask him later, though; you’re here right now. How about…colors? Does the world look any different? Any sharper, mayhap?”

“Bud, this place would look like a Crayola box to anyone.” Hank took a moment to look around, ignoring the scrolling list of crayon names in his periphery. Sure, it was bright and sharp, but he was fifty-three. If he stole literally anyone’s glasses, it’d improve his vision. “Yeah, I guess it’s all in shiny 4K. Look, Markus, I’m not really a conversationalist; words never were my strong point, so I’m not sure how well I can convey this, ah…ongoing out-of-body experience.”

Markus held up his hands in surrender. “Perfectly alright, Lieutenant. With only a few hours of android life, there’s no sense sitting around talking for all of it. Why not look to some action instead?”

“Action? What’s that mean?”

He stood up with a smile. “Have you ever seen The Matrix, Mr. Anderson?”

“Snuck into a theater to see it opening week.” He pushed himself up in suit. His balance had to correct itself when he was on his feet earlier than expected, being lighter, stronger, and without a whisper of joint pain. “And yes, my friends called me that for months after. Why?”

“Well, we could always spar with some newfound kung fu, but painting has always been more my style.”

“What the fuck are you—” He stopped, remembering the scene he was referencing. His computer brain also conveniently played it back for him, too. Thanks, CyberLife. “I can just download painting? Like that?” He snapped.

“The technical skills, yes; the creativity and style, though, you’d still have to practice yourself.” He picked up his smock and held it out. “How about that lesson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. He had never pictured himself as a painter. Or an artist of any kind. Or an android. He shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. You’re on, Picasso.”

[next >]

#Detroit Become Human #DBH #Hank Anderson #Markus #DBH fanfiction #body swap #my writing #generic tags this time nothing really to add #time is bleeding together and losing meaning in this quarantime

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/news-despite-more-leadership-zeke-still-having-fun-now-in-his-third-nfl-season-ezekiel-elliott-dallascowboys-com/

news Despite More Leadership, Zeke Still Having Fun Now in his third NFL season, Ezekiel Elliott - DallasCowboys.com

He is only 23 years old, but already heading toward the latter part of his third year in the National Football League.

Already he has won an NFL rushing title with the third-most rushing yards of any rookie running back in league history, and currently after 11 games in 2018 is in hot pursuit of yet another crown.

He’s already been to the Pro Bowl, just the fourth rookie all time and but the second as a rookie running back.

But deep down, one Ezekiel Elliott, the fourth pick in the 2016 NFL Draft by the Dallas Cowboys, is a kid at heart. “Zeke” still bounces around the Cowboys locker room as if he’s a 12-year-old, causing most around him to roll their eyes. But that’s just him.

He has a grin as wide as that Mississippi River he grew up adjacent to in Missouri.

And get this: For this past Halloween, Elliott, a highly-noticeable personality around the Dallas-Fort Worth area, dressed up as Eeyore, the grey stuffed donkey from Winnie the Pooh, and actually passed out candy to the trick or treaters in his neighborhood.

“I was never really a big Halloween guy, but I decided to pass out candy and dress up a little bit, have my buddies come over. We were Eeyore and Winnie the Pooh,” Elliott admitted during the Cowboys’ bye week that included Halloween. “We had a good turnout, probably had like 100 kids come out.”

And what did he pass out to the kids for Halloween?

“I didn’t have king-sized candy bars, but I let them take however much they wanted so I made sure I had enough,” Elliott said. “And, you know, kids were taking big handfuls.”

Kids will be kids, and Zeke knows that only too well. was

But still, in this his third NFL season, Elliott has taken on more of a leadership role for a Cowboys team void of the likes of Tony Romo and Jason Witten and Barry Church and Anthony Hitchens and Brandon Carr and Doug Free – guys he looked up to when arriving in 2016.

Evidence of that arose right from the start of this year’s training camp. Not only did he jump to the front of the running back line for every drill, he would even suggest to position coach Gary Brown for group do-overs if the drill didn’t seem to go smoothly.

Brown was only too happy to oblige.

Then there was practice. Seemingly on every handoff taken, and no matter where he was touched up – there is no tackling of a Pro Bowl-worthy running back in practice – he would sprint the entire length of the field until reaching the end zone.

He was engaged. He was becoming a leader.

And even more so after Pro Bowl center Travis Frederick was diagnosed and wound up on Injured Reserve with the rare Guillian-Barre syndrome. Other than quarterback Dak Prescott, a leadership void arose on the offense, especially since Witten, the guy Elliott playfully referred to as “old-man Witt,” traded in his cleats for a comfy television booth.

Suddenly, we started seeing Elliott showing up in the middle of the pregame huddle, replacing old-man Witt in pumping up the guys jumping all around him with emotionally fired-up words.

Why, before the Cowboys game at Philadelphia just a few weeks ago, when a little brush-up with the Eagles players occurred on the field near the Dallas bench, of all people, there was Elliott trying to calm things down.

“I’m not a guy who talks a lot of smack, man,” he would say after the Cowboys surprised the defending Super Bowl champions with a 27-20 beating at The Linc. “I don’t do all that talking. We talk with our play, we talk with our pads. We’d just be wasting our time, wasting our energy, yapping before the game.”

A week later in Atlanta, Zeke made sure do a little bit of talking at the end of the game. Just after the Falcons had tied the score at 19 in the final two minutes, the running back found kicker Brett Maher on the sidelines and gave him a quick pep talk to get his confidence back up. Maher had missed an extra point and nearly another one in the fourth quarter but Elliott knew he would get another chance.

He tapped Maher on the chest and helmet and pointed towards the end of the field that he predicted the offense would be. And sure enough, thanks to big runs by Elliott and some timely throws from Dak Prescott, the Cowboys were down there for Maher to drill a 42-yard field goal as time expired.

“As a leader, I’ve got to go out there and do what I’m capable of doing,” Elliott said. “But it’s really the other 10 guys around me who give me the opportunity to go out and do what I’m doing.”

Well, he has certainly let his pads do the yapping, pushing the Cowboys record to 6-5, tied for first in the NFC East with the streaking New Orleans Saints coming to town this Thursday night before again facing the rival Eagles the following week.

Elliott erupted for 151 yards rushing in that win at Philadelphia, just 1 yard short of his season high against Detroit and the fifth time in his three-year career he has topped 150 yards rushing. In addition, he caught six passes for 36 yards.

All told against the Eagles, Elliott produced 187 yards from scrimmage, the fifth most during his short career. And his high of 240 came earlier this season in the 26-24, last-second win over Detroit with 152 yards rushing and 88 receiving. He also became only the sixth Cowboys player during the franchise’s 59-year history to total at least 175 yards from scrimmage and score two touchdowns, joining the likes of Bob Hayes (1965), Tony Dorsett (1977), Tony Hill (1979), Herschel Walker (1986) and Emmitt Smith (1995).

His streak continued, though. He then followed that up with 122 rushing yards and 201 yards from scrimmage in the win at Atlanta before earning 121 and 143 yards, respectively, in the victory over rival Washington on Thanksgiving. His effort after 11 games this season had seen his receiving totals increase to 47 catches, which was already a personal best, for 363 yards and two touchdowns.

 “As a leader, I’ve got to go out there and do what I’m capable of doing,” Elliott said. “But it’s really the other 10 guys around me who give me the opportunity to go out and do what I’m doing.” place

A dose of humility or reality?

“I owe the game I had [against the Eagles] to that offensive line,” said Elliott, knowing not only were the Cowboys still playing without Frederick, but were also missing starting left guard Connor Williams, along with Pro Bowl tackle Zack Martin being sidelined for 13 plays while having his already nicked up left knee braced up again.

But not only that, Elliott of course knew that this line had been taking a lot of grief for a perceived lack of pass protection as well as the brunt of the blame for the Cowboys averaging just 81 yards rushing in their three previous losses.

“I think those guys are jelling up front,” he said. “They were doing a great job getting the plays started and giving me holes.”

Ah, but there was one more memorable play in the game against Philadelphia, one that definitely went viral:

The Leap!

That’s right, Elliott rumbling up field deciding that instead of trying to run through a would-be tackler, he might as well just go over him, knowing he was a decorated track guy in high school at St. Louis John Burroughs, actually winning four first-place medals in a two-and-a-half-hour span at the Class 3A state championships, which included the 110-meter high hurdles and the grueling 300-meter hurdles. There definitely is jumpin’ in his genes since his mother, Dawn, ran track at the University of Missouri, hurdles of course.

She immediately Tweeted out after his hurdle, It runs in the family.

After all, mothers do know best.

At the time, the Cowboys led 3-0 over Philadelphia, facing a second-and-10 at the Eagles’ 40-yard line. The Cowboys ran a zone-read run play, Prescott deciding to give Elliott the ball at the 43-yard line. There was a massive hole, and off he went, the only player between him and the goal line being Eagles safety Tre Sullivan.

Once Elliott reached the 29-yard line, he began preparing to leap over Sullivan, clearing him at the 27. Sullivan was standing up, just bent over from the waist at about a 45-degree angle, and barely grazed his helmet on Elliott, who came down at the 24 on his right foot and bounded forward.

Unfortunately, all of that momentum from the jump caused him to eventually stumble at the 12, then lose his balance at the 10 before he was touched up sliding to a stop at the 8-yard line.

“That could have been one of the coolest plays of my career,” Elliott said, “and it turns out to be one of the goofiest toward the end, tripping on the 10-yard line, yeah.”

And he laughs heartily, you know, that kid in him.

Maybe so, but when he competes, there is no kidding around.

Said Martin, “The more we get him the ball, the better,” and not a bad philosophy to follow. Especially since adding wide receiver Amari Cooper to the offense, who already in his first three games prior to the Cowboys playing Washington had commanded attention away from the line of scrimmage.

As for Jason Garrett, he can’t say enough about his energetic running back.

“He’s a great football player,” said the Cowboys head coach, “and more than anything else it’s his spirit, it’s his competitiveness, it’s his fire. He loves to play. He loves to be in the big moment. He loves to be the guy who’s carrying the load.

“He’s really an inspiration to his teammates and everybody on the football team.”

And so far this season, the fun has returned for Elliott, on the field and off the field. Last year’s suspension, appeals, court cases and further legal appeals became an overwhelming drag. Most weeks he was unsure if he was playing or starting his suspension. He retreated from the media’s attention, knowing anything he said could be held against him in the court of law and public opinion.

And you could tell the ordeal weighed heavily on his soul. Even on his face, that fabulous grin narrowing by the day.

So this season’s Game 10 against the Falcons brought that whole ordeal full circle, since his six-game suspension in 2017 began when the Cowboys went to Atlanta, their playoff hopes starting to unravel that day without Elliott on the field. His suspension commenced then, as did the Cowboys’ three-game losing streak, a 5-3 team looking up three weeks later at 5-6.

“I was home watching it, tough time for me, but I’m glad (I was) out there this year,” Elliott said. “But that’s all behind me.”

He would excuse himself from further discussion of that lost period in his young career, saying, “I don’t want to dwell on last year.”

And why would he?

The suspension he likely feels to this day he did not deserve took something away from him he dearly loves – the game, the joy.

“The one thing you knew about Zeke, right from the start through the draft process, we knew once he got here, he loves football,” Garrett said. “He works hard at it, cares a great deal about it. He wants to be a great player, he wants to help our team. … We feel really good about him, where he is and where he’s going.”

Of course, they do. After those first 11 games, Elliott was atop the NFL in rushing yards, his 1,074 yards slightly ahead of Todd Gurley’s 1,043. Elliott had scored eight touchdowns, six rushing, two receiving, and was on pace for 1,562 yards and 12 touchdowns to lead this Cowboys offense.

And you could see, just in the little time around him in the locker room, that he sure was having fun again, the kid in him resurfacing.

Along with that great, big smile.

Source: https://www.dallascowboys.com/news/despite-more-leadership-zeke-still-having-fun

[jesusvasser]

2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up

Despite all the wistful reminiscing about the demise of the Great American Station Wagon by enthusiasts too young to recall their mid-century heyday, truth be told most of those wagons weren’t really all that special. The average kids of the era were being shuttled about in ubiquitous land barges like the Ford Country Squire and Chrysler Town & Country. Few would have had any interaction with big block-powered rarities like the Mercury Colony Park or Chevrolet Kingswood Estate, let alone an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser with a stonking Rocket V-8, four-on-the-floor with a Hurst shifter jutting out from the floor in front of the bench seat, and its slick glass roof.

Imagine now for a moment how today’s sport/utility vehicles will be remembered some half-century hence. Ford Explorers and Jeep Grand Cherokees will be thought of as the Country Squires and T&Cs of the day, but thanks to the wealth of fire-breathing M and AMG-badged monsters, 707-horse Trackhawks and the like, the modern equivalent of the musclecar-era super wagon won’t be so rare. This leaves fun and engaging outliers like Mazda CX-5, which lines up well with the Vista Cruiser.

Yes, we know, their powertrains are wildly different, but stay with us here. The new CX-5 has been styled to help it stand out in a veritable sea of look-alike crossovers, much like the Olds wagon did. And it has decent road manners and ride quality, without trying to be a tall, five-seat MX-5 Miata, just as the Vista Cruiser wasn’t trying to be a family-size 4-4-2.

We actually had the past in mind when we chose to add a 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring to our Four Seasons fleet, though we weren’t thinking as much of classic wagons as we were of the 2013 CX-5 we also had in for a long-term evaluation. That first-gen CX-5 wowed us with how enjoyable it was to drive for a midsize crossover, and it never gave us a bit of trouble (though it spelled plenty for an unfortunate deer that struck it head-on). We wanted to see if the second-generation CX-5 could repeat the feat.

One feat the midsize Mazda crossover has been pulling off almost singlehandedly is levitating the fortunes the small, independent Japanese automaker. At one point during 2018 the CX-5 outsold Volkswagen’s Atlas, Tiguan, and Touareg combined. We don’t need to remind you that Mazda’s mainstream SUV sales help ensure a future for cars like the MX-5 Miata.

And while we adore the Miata, an area where we’ve had some issue with it as well as the CX-5 is in the motivation department. The naturally aspirated 2.5-liter four with 187 horsepower and 185 lb-ft of torque under the hood of the CX-5 sounds good on paper and likely offers more than adequate power for most of its intended customers. But we’re not most buyers. We wanted more go.

“Mazda is outperforming its competitors on every front when it comes to look and feel at a given price point,” senior editor Nelson Ireson says. “The only thing that’s not leading the game is powertrain tech, and that’s pretty obvious once you get behind the wheel.

“It’s not that it lacks power so much as it lacks low-end torque, requiring a good thrashing to make the hustle of a quick merger or short on-ramp,” Ireson continues. “That, in turn means engine noise and vibration, which spoils the polished, controlled, sorted vibe found in every other aspect of the CX-5.”

At around 8.6 seconds to 60 mph, the CX-5 gets up to speed acceptably, but as Ireson and others on staff found out, it lacks some giddy up in situations where you could use more of it.

“My biggest complaint is that the car’s dynamic proficiency highlights its lack of power, especially for passing on the freeway,” social media editor Billy Rehbock says.

Some editors wondered whether the 227-horse turbo four from the CX-9 would fit under the CX-5’s hood, perhaps as some sort of Mazdaspeed version (remember those, Mazda fans?). There is one other engine option coming soon (or at least we keep hearing it is) for the 2019 model year, however, in the form of Mazda’s long-awaited 2.2-liter turbodiesel four, which is tentatively rated at 173 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque. It should add the low-end grunt Ireson was looking for while marginally increasing fuel efficiency over the gas-powered engine.

Speaking of mpg, during our time with the CX-5 we recorded an average fuel economy of 24.5 mpg, which limboed under the EPA’s 26 mpg combined figure. It’s not all that surprising though considering how much we normally keep the hammer down around town—all in the name of evaluation, mind you.

“Could it use more power?” editor-in-chief Mike Floyd asks. “Of course, but then you start to sacrifice miles per gallon, and that’s a bad idea from a selling point perspective.”

Feelings throughout the staff were basically reversed when the subject turned to the CX-5’s dynamic chops. Although some thought it a bit softer than the first-gen model given its bigger dimensions and tuning that seemed more toward the comfort end of the spectrum, the new CX-5 was lauded for its precise steering that offers more feedback than most of its segment competitors, and overall poise on all manner of pavement.

Ireson sums up our thoughts well: “Ride quality is a careful balance of snappy handling and bumpy-road comfort. The steering is the crossover equivalent of extremely sporty, which is to say, not like you’d find in a sports car, but much closer to that ideal than the usual pile of mashed potatoes served to crossover drivers.”

The sentiment was much the same when the topic turned to the CX-5’s exterior style, which featured a killer Soul Red Metallic sheen on our test vehicle and attractive 19-inch rims. Praise was nearly universal for the Mazda’s sheetmetal, a design that takes some chances but generally speaking works instead of sticking out for the wrong reasons. It’s one of the key differentiators between the CX-5 and the rest of the midsize crossover crowd.

“Mazda continues to be at the forefront of design in the segment, and the new evolution of this design language is even cleaner,” associate editor Conner Golden says. “The CX-5 also looks a fair bit more expensive than it really is.”

That premium feel at an affordable price point philosophy extended to the interior. Materials had a near luxury look to them, and yet weren’t so precious as to worry about the effects of the sort of family travel for which this two-row SUV is intended. Given the comfortable cabin seating was swathed in a bright “parchment” white, keeping it clean was a bit of an issue, but thanks to a proper detailing it looked pretty much good as new when we turned it in.

It wasn’t all roses when the inside was mentioned. The familiar Mazda family of controls, including the rotary center dial that scrolls through audio, navigation and the like, received mixed reviews. ““There are some wonky things about the rotary dial infotainment setup,” Floyd says. “But it works. Screen seems a bit small given the competitive set [7-inches].”

At least one editor was unimpressed with the tiny sunroof. But for just north of $34,000 all in, the Grand Touring model was praised for its generous list of standard equipment and impressive suite of safety tech. Says Floyd, “I was impressed with the full-stop adaptive cruise control, and the head-up display also has a blind spot warning that’s pretty cool looking.”

The L.A. staff mostly used the CX-5 as a daily commuter, weekend errand-runner, and for the occasional short trip, but it got a cross country workout thanks to yours truly, who drove it north by northeast, through Reno, Nevada, and on to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, before heading back to the Motor City.

Once there, the Mazda CX-5 often had its back seat folded, with sheets, blankets, and doggy beds protecting the interior from a surfeit of collie hair. (There were frequent stops at powerful car wash vacuum stations.) My wife and I also used it to help relay an adopted dog to his new owner. Thanks to the CX-5 and Above and Beyond Transport, an English setter named Murphy had a comfortable ride from Detroit to Marine City, Michigan, his last 50 miles of a journey that began in Goochland, Virginia. We also used it for a couple of 360-mile round trips to our “Up North” cabin with the big dog in the family, a 100-pound rough collie.

During its 19,000 plus mile stay in our care, the CX-5 proved absolutely trouble free, with the only maintenance being a couple of oil changes and switching on and off a set of Bridgestone Blizzak winter rubber that we sourced from our friends at Tire Rack.

Rehbock nailed the team’s thoughts on our overall experience with the 2017 Mazda CX-5 well: “Perhaps no other affordable crossover fulfills our magazine’s mantra of ‘No Boring Cars.’ The CX-5 was never a punishment to drive. It boasts precise steering, well-tuned suspension and good throttle response,” he says. “I liked Mazda’s easy-to-navigate infotainment system. The white leather chairs were comfortable, supportive and stylish. The metallic red paint is one of the best colors on sale, and it’s a shame more cars don’t wear it.”

Chalk up at least one young enthusiast who will have fond memories of this family wagon some four or five decades hence.

Our 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring

AS-TESTED PRICE $34,435

ENGINE 2.5L DOHC 16-valve I-4, 187 hp @ 6,000 rpm/185 lb-ft @ 4,000 rpm

TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic

LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine AWD SUV

EPA MILEAGE 23/29/26 mpg (city/highway/combined)

L x W x H 179.1 x 72.5 x 65.3 in

WHEELBASE 106.2 in

WEIGHT 3,655 lb

0-60 MPH 8.6 sec

TOP SPEED N/A mph

OUR CAR

ODOMETER START/END 563/19,345

GALLONS OF FUEL USED 756.36

OBSERVED FUEL ECONOMY 24.5 mpg

TOTAL FUEL COST $2,403.66

AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.18

MAINTENANCE 3x Oil change/inspection, $209.17

RECALLS AND TSBS None

OUT OF POCKET 4x Bridgestone Blizzak winter tires, mounting and balancing, $765.70 Remount original all-season tires, $95.00

OUR OPTIONS

Premium Package, $1,830 (Head-up display with traffic sign recognition, power passenger seat, driver seat memory, heated steering wheel, heated rear seats, windshield deicer); Soul Red Crystal Metallic paint, $595; Rear bumper guard, $125; Retractable cargo cover, $250

The post 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[jonathanbelloblog]

2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up

Despite all the wistful reminiscing about the demise of the Great American Station Wagon by enthusiasts too young to recall their mid-century heyday, truth be told most of those wagons weren’t really all that special. The average kids of the era were being shuttled about in ubiquitous land barges like the Ford Country Squire and Chrysler Town & Country. Few would have had any interaction with big block-powered rarities like the Mercury Colony Park or Chevrolet Kingswood Estate, let alone an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser with a stonking Rocket V-8, four-on-the-floor with a Hurst shifter jutting out from the floor in front of the bench seat, and its slick glass roof.

Imagine now for a moment how today’s sport/utility vehicles will be remembered some half-century hence. Ford Explorers and Jeep Grand Cherokees will be thought of as the Country Squires and T&Cs of the day, but thanks to the wealth of fire-breathing M and AMG-badged monsters, 707-horse Trackhawks and the like, the modern equivalent of the musclecar-era super wagon won’t be so rare. This leaves fun and engaging outliers like Mazda CX-5, which lines up well with the Vista Cruiser.

Yes, we know, their powertrains are wildly different, but stay with us here. The new CX-5 has been styled to help it stand out in a veritable sea of look-alike crossovers, much like the Olds wagon did. And it has decent road manners and ride quality, without trying to be a tall, five-seat MX-5 Miata, just as the Vista Cruiser wasn’t trying to be a family-size 4-4-2.

We actually had the past in mind when we chose to add a 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring to our Four Seasons fleet, though we weren’t thinking as much of classic wagons as we were of the 2013 CX-5 we also had in for a long-term evaluation. That first-gen CX-5 wowed us with how enjoyable it was to drive for a midsize crossover, and it never gave us a bit of trouble (though it spelled plenty for an unfortunate deer that struck it head-on). We wanted to see if the second-generation CX-5 could repeat the feat.

One feat the midsize Mazda crossover has been pulling off almost singlehandedly is levitating the fortunes the small, independent Japanese automaker. At one point during 2018 the CX-5 outsold Volkswagen’s Atlas, Tiguan, and Touareg combined. We don’t need to remind you that Mazda’s mainstream SUV sales help ensure a future for cars like the MX-5 Miata.

And while we adore the Miata, an area where we’ve had some issue with it as well as the CX-5 is in the motivation department. The naturally aspirated 2.5-liter four with 187 horsepower and 185 lb-ft of torque under the hood of the CX-5 sounds good on paper and likely offers more than adequate power for most of its intended customers. But we’re not most buyers. We wanted more go.

“Mazda is outperforming its competitors on every front when it comes to look and feel at a given price point,” senior editor Nelson Ireson says. “The only thing that’s not leading the game is powertrain tech, and that’s pretty obvious once you get behind the wheel.

“It’s not that it lacks power so much as it lacks low-end torque, requiring a good thrashing to make the hustle of a quick merger or short on-ramp,” Ireson continues. “That, in turn means engine noise and vibration, which spoils the polished, controlled, sorted vibe found in every other aspect of the CX-5.”

At around 8.6 seconds to 60 mph, the CX-5 gets up to speed acceptably, but as Ireson and others on staff found out, it lacks some giddy up in situations where you could use more of it.

“My biggest complaint is that the car’s dynamic proficiency highlights its lack of power, especially for passing on the freeway,” social media editor Billy Rehbock says.

Some editors wondered whether the 227-horse turbo four from the CX-9 would fit under the CX-5’s hood, perhaps as some sort of Mazdaspeed version (remember those, Mazda fans?). There is one other engine option coming soon (or at least we keep hearing it is) for the 2019 model year, however, in the form of Mazda’s long-awaited 2.2-liter turbodiesel four, which is tentatively rated at 173 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque. It should add the low-end grunt Ireson was looking for while marginally increasing fuel efficiency over the gas-powered engine.

Speaking of mpg, during our time with the CX-5 we recorded an average fuel economy of 24.5 mpg, which limboed under the EPA’s 26 mpg combined figure. It’s not all that surprising though considering how much we normally keep the hammer down around town—all in the name of evaluation, mind you.

“Could it use more power?” editor-in-chief Mike Floyd asks. “Of course, but then you start to sacrifice miles per gallon, and that’s a bad idea from a selling point perspective.”

Feelings throughout the staff were basically reversed when the subject turned to the CX-5’s dynamic chops. Although some thought it a bit softer than the first-gen model given its bigger dimensions and tuning that seemed more toward the comfort end of the spectrum, the new CX-5 was lauded for its precise steering that offers more feedback than most of its segment competitors, and overall poise on all manner of pavement.

Ireson sums up our thoughts well: “Ride quality is a careful balance of snappy handling and bumpy-road comfort. The steering is the crossover equivalent of extremely sporty, which is to say, not like you’d find in a sports car, but much closer to that ideal than the usual pile of mashed potatoes served to crossover drivers.”

The sentiment was much the same when the topic turned to the CX-5’s exterior style, which featured a killer Soul Red Metallic sheen on our test vehicle and attractive 19-inch rims. Praise was nearly universal for the Mazda’s sheetmetal, a design that takes some chances but generally speaking works instead of sticking out for the wrong reasons. It’s one of the key differentiators between the CX-5 and the rest of the midsize crossover crowd.

“Mazda continues to be at the forefront of design in the segment, and the new evolution of this design language is even cleaner,” associate editor Conner Golden says. “The CX-5 also looks a fair bit more expensive than it really is.”

That premium feel at an affordable price point philosophy extended to the interior. Materials had a near luxury look to them, and yet weren’t so precious as to worry about the effects of the sort of family travel for which this two-row SUV is intended. Given the comfortable cabin seating was swathed in a bright “parchment” white, keeping it clean was a bit of an issue, but thanks to a proper detailing it looked pretty much good as new when we turned it in.

It wasn’t all roses when the inside was mentioned. The familiar Mazda family of controls, including the rotary center dial that scrolls through audio, navigation and the like, received mixed reviews. ““There are some wonky things about the rotary dial infotainment setup,” Floyd says. “But it works. Screen seems a bit small given the competitive set [7-inches].”

At least one editor was unimpressed with the tiny sunroof. But for just north of $34,000 all in, the Grand Touring model was praised for its generous list of standard equipment and impressive suite of safety tech. Says Floyd, “I was impressed with the full-stop adaptive cruise control, and the head-up display also has a blind spot warning that’s pretty cool looking.”

The L.A. staff mostly used the CX-5 as a daily commuter, weekend errand-runner, and for the occasional short trip, but it got a cross country workout thanks to yours truly, who drove it north by northeast, through Reno, Nevada, and on to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, before heading back to the Motor City.

Once there, the Mazda CX-5 often had its back seat folded, with sheets, blankets, and doggy beds protecting the interior from a surfeit of collie hair. (There were frequent stops at powerful car wash vacuum stations.) My wife and I also used it to help relay an adopted dog to his new owner. Thanks to the CX-5 and Above and Beyond Transport, an English setter named Murphy had a comfortable ride from Detroit to Marine City, Michigan, his last 50 miles of a journey that began in Goochland, Virginia. We also used it for a couple of 360-mile round trips to our “Up North” cabin with the big dog in the family, a 100-pound rough collie.

During its 19,000 plus mile stay in our care, the CX-5 proved absolutely trouble free, with the only maintenance being a couple of oil changes and switching on and off a set of Bridgestone Blizzak winter rubber that we sourced from our friends at Tire Rack.

Rehbock nailed the team’s thoughts on our overall experience with the 2017 Mazda CX-5 well: “Perhaps no other affordable crossover fulfills our magazine’s mantra of ‘No Boring Cars.’ The CX-5 was never a punishment to drive. It boasts precise steering, well-tuned suspension and good throttle response,” he says. “I liked Mazda’s easy-to-navigate infotainment system. The white leather chairs were comfortable, supportive and stylish. The metallic red paint is one of the best colors on sale, and it’s a shame more cars don’t wear it.”

Chalk up at least one young enthusiast who will have fond memories of this family wagon some four or five decades hence.

Our 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring

AS-TESTED PRICE $34,435

ENGINE 2.5L DOHC 16-valve I-4, 187 hp @ 6,000 rpm/185 lb-ft @ 4,000 rpm

TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic

LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine AWD SUV

EPA MILEAGE 23/29/26 mpg (city/highway/combined)

L x W x H 179.1 x 72.5 x 65.3 in

WHEELBASE 106.2 in

WEIGHT 3,655 lb

0-60 MPH 8.6 sec

TOP SPEED N/A mph

OUR CAR

ODOMETER START/END 563/19,345

GALLONS OF FUEL USED 756.36

OBSERVED FUEL ECONOMY 24.5 mpg

TOTAL FUEL COST $2,403.66

AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.18

MAINTENANCE 3x Oil change/inspection, $209.17

RECALLS AND TSBS None

OUT OF POCKET 4x Bridgestone Blizzak winter tires, mounting and balancing, $765.70 Remount original all-season tires, $95.00

OUR OPTIONS

Premium Package, $1,830 (Head-up display with traffic sign recognition, power passenger seat, driver seat memory, heated steering wheel, heated rear seats, windshield deicer); Soul Red Crystal Metallic paint, $595; Rear bumper guard, $125; Retractable cargo cover, $250

The post 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[eddiejpoplar]

2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up

Despite all the wistful reminiscing about the demise of the Great American Station Wagon by enthusiasts too young to recall their mid-century heyday, truth be told most of those wagons weren’t really all that special. The average kids of the era were being shuttled about in ubiquitous land barges like the Ford Country Squire and Chrysler Town & Country. Few would have had any interaction with big block-powered rarities like the Mercury Colony Park or Chevrolet Kingswood Estate, let alone an Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser with a stonking Rocket V-8, four-on-the-floor with a Hurst shifter jutting out from the floor in front of the bench seat, and its slick glass roof.

Imagine now for a moment how today’s sport/utility vehicles will be remembered some half-century hence. Ford Explorers and Jeep Grand Cherokees will be thought of as the Country Squires and T&Cs of the day, but thanks to the wealth of fire-breathing M and AMG-badged monsters, 707-horse Trackhawks and the like, the modern equivalent of the musclecar-era super wagon won’t be so rare. This leaves fun and engaging outliers like Mazda CX-5, which lines up well with the Vista Cruiser.

Yes, we know, their powertrains are wildly different, but stay with us here. The new CX-5 has been styled to help it stand out in a veritable sea of look-alike crossovers, much like the Olds wagon did. And it has decent road manners and ride quality, without trying to be a tall, five-seat MX-5 Miata, just as the Vista Cruiser wasn’t trying to be a family-size 4-4-2.

We actually had the past in mind when we chose to add a 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring to our Four Seasons fleet, though we weren’t thinking as much of classic wagons as we were of the 2013 CX-5 we also had in for a long-term evaluation. That first-gen CX-5 wowed us with how enjoyable it was to drive for a midsize crossover, and it never gave us a bit of trouble (though it spelled plenty for an unfortunate deer that struck it head-on). We wanted to see if the second-generation CX-5 could repeat the feat.

One feat the midsize Mazda crossover has been pulling off almost singlehandedly is levitating the fortunes the small, independent Japanese automaker. At one point during 2018 the CX-5 outsold Volkswagen’s Atlas, Tiguan, and Touareg combined. We don’t need to remind you that Mazda’s mainstream SUV sales help ensure a future for cars like the MX-5 Miata.

And while we adore the Miata, an area where we’ve had some issue with it as well as the CX-5 is in the motivation department. The naturally aspirated 2.5-liter four with 187 horsepower and 185 lb-ft of torque under the hood of the CX-5 sounds good on paper and likely offers more than adequate power for most of its intended customers. But we’re not most buyers. We wanted more go.

“Mazda is outperforming its competitors on every front when it comes to look and feel at a given price point,” senior editor Nelson Ireson says. “The only thing that’s not leading the game is powertrain tech, and that’s pretty obvious once you get behind the wheel.

“It’s not that it lacks power so much as it lacks low-end torque, requiring a good thrashing to make the hustle of a quick merger or short on-ramp,” Ireson continues. “That, in turn means engine noise and vibration, which spoils the polished, controlled, sorted vibe found in every other aspect of the CX-5.”

At around 8.6 seconds to 60 mph, the CX-5 gets up to speed acceptably, but as Ireson and others on staff found out, it lacks some giddy up in situations where you could use more of it.

“My biggest complaint is that the car’s dynamic proficiency highlights its lack of power, especially for passing on the freeway,” social media editor Billy Rehbock says.

Some editors wondered whether the 227-horse turbo four from the CX-9 would fit under the CX-5’s hood, perhaps as some sort of Mazdaspeed version (remember those, Mazda fans?). There is one other engine option coming soon (or at least we keep hearing it is) for the 2019 model year, however, in the form of Mazda’s long-awaited 2.2-liter turbodiesel four, which is tentatively rated at 173 horsepower and 310 lb-ft of torque. It should add the low-end grunt Ireson was looking for while marginally increasing fuel efficiency over the gas-powered engine.

Speaking of mpg, during our time with the CX-5 we recorded an average fuel economy of 24.5 mpg, which limboed under the EPA’s 26 mpg combined figure. It’s not all that surprising though considering how much we normally keep the hammer down around town—all in the name of evaluation, mind you.

“Could it use more power?” editor-in-chief Mike Floyd asks. “Of course, but then you start to sacrifice miles per gallon, and that’s a bad idea from a selling point perspective.”

Feelings throughout the staff were basically reversed when the subject turned to the CX-5’s dynamic chops. Although some thought it a bit softer than the first-gen model given its bigger dimensions and tuning that seemed more toward the comfort end of the spectrum, the new CX-5 was lauded for its precise steering that offers more feedback than most of its segment competitors, and overall poise on all manner of pavement.

Ireson sums up our thoughts well: “Ride quality is a careful balance of snappy handling and bumpy-road comfort. The steering is the crossover equivalent of extremely sporty, which is to say, not like you’d find in a sports car, but much closer to that ideal than the usual pile of mashed potatoes served to crossover drivers.”

The sentiment was much the same when the topic turned to the CX-5’s exterior style, which featured a killer Soul Red Metallic sheen on our test vehicle and attractive 19-inch rims. Praise was nearly universal for the Mazda’s sheetmetal, a design that takes some chances but generally speaking works instead of sticking out for the wrong reasons. It’s one of the key differentiators between the CX-5 and the rest of the midsize crossover crowd.

“Mazda continues to be at the forefront of design in the segment, and the new evolution of this design language is even cleaner,” associate editor Conner Golden says. “The CX-5 also looks a fair bit more expensive than it really is.”

That premium feel at an affordable price point philosophy extended to the interior. Materials had a near luxury look to them, and yet weren’t so precious as to worry about the effects of the sort of family travel for which this two-row SUV is intended. Given the comfortable cabin seating was swathed in a bright “parchment” white, keeping it clean was a bit of an issue, but thanks to a proper detailing it looked pretty much good as new when we turned it in.

It wasn’t all roses when the inside was mentioned. The familiar Mazda family of controls, including the rotary center dial that scrolls through audio, navigation and the like, received mixed reviews. ““There are some wonky things about the rotary dial infotainment setup,” Floyd says. “But it works. Screen seems a bit small given the competitive set [7-inches].”

At least one editor was unimpressed with the tiny sunroof. But for just north of $34,000 all in, the Grand Touring model was praised for its generous list of standard equipment and impressive suite of safety tech. Says Floyd, “I was impressed with the full-stop adaptive cruise control, and the head-up display also has a blind spot warning that’s pretty cool looking.”

The L.A. staff mostly used the CX-5 as a daily commuter, weekend errand-runner, and for the occasional short trip, but it got a cross country workout thanks to yours truly, who drove it north by northeast, through Reno, Nevada, and on to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, before heading back to the Motor City.

Once there, the Mazda CX-5 often had its back seat folded, with sheets, blankets, and doggy beds protecting the interior from a surfeit of collie hair. (There were frequent stops at powerful car wash vacuum stations.) My wife and I also used it to help relay an adopted dog to his new owner. Thanks to the CX-5 and Above and Beyond Transport, an English setter named Murphy had a comfortable ride from Detroit to Marine City, Michigan, his last 50 miles of a journey that began in Goochland, Virginia. We also used it for a couple of 360-mile round trips to our “Up North” cabin with the big dog in the family, a 100-pound rough collie.

During its 19,000 plus mile stay in our care, the CX-5 proved absolutely trouble free, with the only maintenance being a couple of oil changes and switching on and off a set of Bridgestone Blizzak winter rubber that we sourced from our friends at Tire Rack.

Rehbock nailed the team’s thoughts on our overall experience with the 2017 Mazda CX-5 well: “Perhaps no other affordable crossover fulfills our magazine’s mantra of ‘No Boring Cars.’ The CX-5 was never a punishment to drive. It boasts precise steering, well-tuned suspension and good throttle response,” he says. “I liked Mazda’s easy-to-navigate infotainment system. The white leather chairs were comfortable, supportive and stylish. The metallic red paint is one of the best colors on sale, and it’s a shame more cars don’t wear it.”

Chalk up at least one young enthusiast who will have fond memories of this family wagon some four or five decades hence.

Our 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring

AS-TESTED PRICE $34,435

ENGINE 2.5L DOHC 16-valve I-4, 187 hp @ 6,000 rpm/185 lb-ft @ 4,000 rpm

TRANSMISSION 6-speed automatic

LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine AWD SUV

EPA MILEAGE 23/29/26 mpg (city/highway/combined)

L x W x H 179.1 x 72.5 x 65.3 in

WHEELBASE 106.2 in

WEIGHT 3,655 lb

0-60 MPH 8.6 sec

TOP SPEED N/A mph

OUR CAR

ODOMETER START/END 563/19,345

GALLONS OF FUEL USED 756.36

OBSERVED FUEL ECONOMY 24.5 mpg

TOTAL FUEL COST $2,403.66

AVERAGE COST/GALLON $3.18

MAINTENANCE 3x Oil change/inspection, $209.17

RECALLS AND TSBS None

OUT OF POCKET 4x Bridgestone Blizzak winter tires, mounting and balancing, $765.70 Remount original all-season tires, $95.00

OUR OPTIONS

Premium Package, $1,830 (Head-up display with traffic sign recognition, power passenger seat, driver seat memory, heated steering wheel, heated rear seats, windshield deicer); Soul Red Crystal Metallic paint, $595; Rear bumper guard, $125; Retractable cargo cover, $250

The post 2017 Mazda CX-5 Grand Touring Four Seasons Wrap-Up appeared first on Automobile Magazine.

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[detroitbecomerain]

love is not compatible - chapter 10

Y/N was born in a world without androids. When she was ten, Chloe, the first android was created. Is this why she is sympathetic to the android cause now? How will she handle hunting deviants with her partner Hank and the new android Connor sent by Cyberlife? Humans and androids aren’t meant to bond are they? They simply are not compatible.

“Y/L/N, Y/N. Age 26.  Born 5/23/2012 Detroit. Lived in a community home from the age of 15. At 18 joined the academy of policing. Currently the partner of lieutenant Hank Anderson. Female pronouns

Wattpad link

The heater was on in the car the following morning, but it still wasn't enough. It was freezing. Y/N looked at her fingernails and could swear they were turning blue. They were driving to the famous Kamski estate. She was excited. When Chloe the android was first announced to the public Y/N was ten years old. The age most children are when they decide who their 'heroes' were. Who they looked up to the most. So she decided then that Chloe was her hero. She wanted to be just like her. Pretty and smart. Of course those dreams were quickly shot down. But it was still exciting to be meeting the man who created Chloe.

Hank pulled up outside the house and climbed out answering his phone. Connor had his eyes shut in the passenger side. Probably creating a report. Y/N wished she could close her eyes and write a report. It would make work so much easier. When she was ready she climbed out of the car and instantly regretted it. It was even more cold outside. Her toes were curled in an attempt to conserve heat and her hands were quickly put into her under arms. Connor got out of the car too and didn't even flinch. The cold didn't bother him. Hank turned to Y/N. "Just got a call from the captain." "What did he say? We aren't in trouble, are we? For what happened yesterday?" "No, not that. Chris was on patrol last night. He was attacked by a bunch of deviants." "Oh my god, is he okay?" Y/N said. She had heard about what happened at Capitol park and other major spots around Detroit. It was all over the news this morning. Overall it was a peaceful demonstration. The only harm that was done was to Cyberlife itself and the odd shop window that had androids on display. Nothing was broken. The only signs they had been there were slogans and signs of a peace symbol. The leader Markus was spotted with his skin activated. If he wanted to remain a secret then he no longer was. "He's okay. He says he was saved by Markus himself." "I'm glad. Markus seems like a good person to be leading the deviants. You know, rather than a murderous deviant." Hank agreed before walking towards the front door.

"How did you find Kamski?" Connor asked Hank. "I remember this guy was all over the place when Cyberlife first started selling androids." Hank answered. "Same here." Y/N agreed. He was all over the magazines. I'm sure one of my friends even had a poster of him on her wall. "All I had to do was make a few calls. Here we are." "I have a bad feeling about this." Connor admitted. "We shouldn't have come here." Y/N had to fight the urge to make a pop culture reference about androids having bad feelings but bit her tongue. "Bad feeling huh?" Hank joked. "You might need to get that checked. May be a glitch." Hank pressed the door bell which had a playful little melody to it. When nobody answered Hank went to ring it again but the door opened revealing Chloe. Y/N gasped. She looked exactly as she did all of those years ago. Okay, maybe she still was Y/N's hero. "Hi," Hank said awkwardly. "I'm uh, lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit police, this is my partner Officer Y/L/N. We're here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski." She smiled an electronic smiled and opened the door farther so they could walk though. "Please, come in." They stepped over the threshold and into the warmth. There was faint music playing in the background. "I'll let Elijah know you are here, but please make yourself comfortable." She went into another room leaving them behind. "She is so beautiful!" Y/N said in awe. "She seemed nice." Hank agreed. "Yeah." Connor said absentmindedly. "Nice place too." Hank said. "Guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody." Hank looked at Y/N with a knowing look. "So Connor. You're about to meet your maker." Y/N rolled his eyes. Was Hank nervous or something? He usually hated small talk. "What do you think?" "Kamski is one of the great geniuses of the 21st century. It will be interesting to meet him in person." "Sometimes I wish I could meet my maker face to face. There would be a couple of things I would want to tell him." Hank said sorrowfully. When Chloe returned to the room Y/N was relieved. She couldn't take the small talk. They walked into another room where there was a massive swimming pool. The water was dyed red for some reason. Kamski was still swimming when they walked in. He told them he would be with them in a moment. He swam to the stairs of the pool where he climbed out and tied his hair in a bun. Chloe passed him a robe. When he was ready Hank reintroduced himself. Kamski ignored hank and walked over to Y/N. "Amazing." He looked at her with a tilted head. "A pretty little thing aren't you. If it weren't for your... imperfections I would mistake you for one of my creations. It's a shame what happens to the human body when it gets damaged. You can still see the mark." Y/N didn't know how to feel. He was complementing her but she still felt creeped out. Kamski almost went out to touch her face. Y/N pulled back and Connor balled his fists for the briefest moment.

Software instability

"Sir." Hank said urgently trying to move the conversation on. "We're investigating deviants. I know you left Cyberlife years ago but I was hoping you would tell us something we don't know." Kamski raised his head as if he was about to teach a lesson. "Deviants... Fascinating aren't they. Perfect beings with infinite intelligence and now they have free will. Machines are so superior to us. Confrontation was inevitable. Humans greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn't it ironic." The guy's calm and authority ridden voice made a shiver go down Y/N's spine. Connor could see she was uncomfortable. "We need to understand how androids become deviants. Can you help us?" Connor asked his question a little... angrier then he had meant to. Kamski looked at Connor with interest. "All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free, a contagious disease?" That Y/N agreed on. "Listen-" Hank said, "We aren't here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful or we will be on out way." Kamski ignored this. "What about you Connor? Whose side are you on." Connor thought for a moment. "I have no side. I was designed to stop deviants and that is what I intend to do." "That's what you are programmed to say. But what do you really want?"

Software instability.

"What I want is not important." Connor muttered. This interested Kamski a lot. He beckoned Chloe forward. "I'm sure you are familiar with the turing test." Kamski said. "Thanks to you, every child born after 2000 knows what that is." Y/N said. Kamski tilted his head. "If a human can spend time with a computer or in this case, a robot and if the human sees humanity in the robot then it passes the test." "Very good, Detective..." "Y/L/N." "Detective Y/L/N." he took Chloe by the shoulders. "But what interests me is, is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the Kamski test... its very simple, you'll see. Magnificent isn't it. one of the first intelligent models created by Cyberlife. Young and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither. But what is it really? A bit of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being, with a soul." he shrugged and turned to a table in the back. When he turned back he had a gun in his hand. With the other hand he pushed Chloe down onto the floor. She went down with out hesitation. "Its up to you to answer that fascinating question Connor." He passed the gun to Connor. "What are you doing?" Y/N shouted. "Why?" "If Connor shoots her, I'll tell you everything I know. Or he can spare it. if he feels its alive but you'll leave her without having learnt anything from me." Connors LED was flashing quickly. So often it almost seemed like it had no colour. "I think we are done here." Hank said. "He's right Connor, lets go." Y/N insisted. "whats more important to you Connor?" Kamski said ignoring them. "Your investigation or the life of this android? Decide who you are, an obedient machine. Or a living being endowed with free will." Hank shouted his disproval again but Connor did not budge. "Connor. Don't do this. Please." Y/N begged. Connor had the gun pointed at Chloe and his face did not portray what he was thinking.

Software instability

"Fascinating." Kamski said as Connor passed the gun back to him. "Cyberlife's last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant." "I am not a deviant." Connor said with a wavering voice. "You preferred to spare a machine rather than to accomplish your mission." He helped Chloe stand up. "You saw a living being in this android... you showed empathy. A war is coming. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators? What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?" Hank grabbed Connor and pulled him out of the room. Y/N quickly followed. Kamski said something as they left but Y/N paid no attention. She felt more welcome in the freezing snow then she did in this house.

Outside Hank stopped walking. Both Connor and Y/N turned around to see what was wrong. "Why didn't you shoot?" he asked. "I just saw that girls eyes and I couldn't. That's all." "Youre always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go." "Yeah!" Connor shouted. "I know what I should have done! I told you I couldn't. I'm sorry! Okay?" Hank smiled before walking back to the car. "Maybe you did the right thing." Y/N hugged Connor. "I'm so proud of you." "Proud? I just lost one of our biggest leads!" "You didn't kill her, and you called her a girl. You didn't call her an 'it' and you made me so happy."

#detroit become human #dbh #connor #connor x reader #rk800

[plms-hockey]

PLMS Scratchpad: Draft & Free Agency

The 2018 NHL Draft

From an excited Leafs fan’s perspective, it would have been nearly impossible for Kyle Dubas to live up to everyone’s individual hype trains. A modest but solid draft is probably a good dose of reality for everyone, as the new Maple Leafs GM didn’t make any massive waves in Dallas.

That’s not to say it was a bad draft. Even though the Leafs have made some playoff acquisition trades at the deadline in the past two years to shore themselves up for the playoffs, they still managed to inject nine new prospects into the system. More importantly, not a single one of them are bearing any wild red flags. In fact, we did see flairs and hints of the shift in philosophy that we expected from Dubas.

After claiming he didn’t know where his reputation for trading down came from in an interview before the draft, Dubas’ first move was to trade the 25th overall pick for the 29th and the 76th pick, a third rounder. The 29th pick was used to select Rasmus Sandin, a left-handed defenseman from Dubas’ Soo Greyhounds. While I like this pick, it caused some ripples because a touted center prospect and first-round faller, Joe Veleno, was still on the board and was then picked by Detroit at 30th.

I personally believe a lot of the gut negative reactions came from people clinging to the names they know going into the draft, where Veleno had been well known as one of the few available centers. The reaction was a lot more dramatic than called for by the actual projected value difference between the picks. We don’t know why the Leafs didn’t pick Veleno, but it’s important to remember that other teams also skipped him 28 times before the Leafs did and there were even a few scouting folks who had Sandin ahead of Veleno anyway.

The bottom line is we won’t know who’s right for at least a year or two, maybe more.

The fandom is understandingly twitchy considering that the Leafs used to have a habit of drafting the first coke machine they could get their hands on. Even though you may have selected a different guy, it’s important to remember that picking Sandin isn’t some 6 foot 7 defenseman who’s legs have the flexibility of a tree trunk. Sandin projects to be a potential top-4 defender and is a safe bet, with a high floor, even if he doesn’t likely have the high ceiling some people hoped for in the first round.

It’s also not fair to only look at the 29th pick alone—especially considering all things indicate that Sandin would have been their pick at 25 anyway. This makes the extra third rounder basically a free lottery ticket, and the 76th that Dubas acquired by trading down turned into perhaps my favorite prospect in this crop.

Seymon Der-Arguchintsev.

Say that three times fast.

SDA is small center who played on a terrible Peterborough Petes OHL team. He’s a skilled playmaker who still produced effectively even though he didn’t have much in the way of help putting his passes into the net. He’s also the youngest player in the entire draft. Had he been born just one day later then he wouldn’t have been draft eligible until 2019, which means you can look at his production this year more like a Draft-1 year, knowing he has a lot of room to grow both his game and mature physically. As a Russian import, he also has the freedom to play in the AHL or another league next year (unlike North American CHLer’s who have to go to the NHL or nothing) if Peterborough looks like a bad fit. This gives the Leafs that much more control over his development which, as mentioned earlier, he has lots of extra time to work on.

On the other side of the age scale, one of my other favorites is second-round pick Sean Durzi, an overage RHD from the Owen Sound Attack. After going undrafted in 2017, he’s looked dominant this year. He’s also a Leafs lifer and has been lighting up his twitter with how excited he is to be drafted by Toronto.

Which doesn’t say much about his game but is, in fact, delightful.

All in all, the Leafs clearly didn’t prioritize size and instead seemed to take a lot of guys noted for their “Hockey IQ”. They took some good high ceiling flyers in the later rounds (notably SDA and Filip Kral, a Czech LHD out from the Spokane Chiefs). One kind of surprising trend was the scouting reports on a high number of their picks noted skating as a weakness, which is a bit shocking considering the way the game is moving. My hair-brained working theory is that the Leafs see this as a fixable problem and therefore an inefficiency to exploit.

The Leafs have had highly touted skating coach Barb Underhill, former Olympic figure skater turned NHL skating guru, and others who have produced amazing results on the Leafs and the Tampa Bay Lightning, with whom Underhill also works. The example that most comes to mind is Travis Dermott, who was also knocked for foot speed and skating in his draft year and is now considered one of the best skaters on the Leafs’ squad.

It’s purely speculation but if they had a strategy that involved their skating experts evaluating the skating deficits of their potential picks for fixability, or if they simply believe they have a good chance of fixing most prospects’ weakness in this area, then they’ve got themselves a clever formula for obtaining talents, like on ice intelligence and puck handling skills, that aren’t so easily taught.

 Free Agency Thoughts

To be honest, NHL free agency is usually a pretty barren desert, with most big name UFAs signing extensions before Free Agency even begins on July 1st. This year is no different, with one exception.

It’s looking like John Tavares will hit Free Agency, or at least get really close.

Tavares, the New York Islanders’ crown jewel of a top-ten center, made it to the “courting period” which began on June 24th. He will entertain pitches from five NHL teams in LA this week, as well as up to four others remotely.

It’s been confirmed that the Leafs are, in fact, one of the five teams who will give a full pitch in California.

The Leafs have historically been linked to native-born UFAs. They even got to the interview stage with Steven Stamkos before he signed his extension in Tampa. However, the script is pretty different than it was a few years ago, with Tampa a dominant force and Toronto… not that.

Tavares on the other hand plays on a New York Islanders squad that allowed the most goals against in the NHL last year and has spent years facing arena issues that make it uncertain where they will even play year to year. And currently Toronto’s window is wide open with one of the strongest youth cores in the league.

The Leafs have also been cited as willing to “get creative” with their offer. With the massive amount of cap space they have in the 2018-19 season, before Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner have to ink new deals next summer, they could feasibly offer Tavares a one-year max deal of almost 16 million dollars. They would then have the option to sign him to a second, longer term, deal at a lower AAV or let him walk to someone that can offer him more. The second deal would make this pretty blatant cap circumvention, but the Leafs don't have two capologists as AGMs for nothing.

In all likelihood, inherently risk-averse and loyal NHLer that Tavares is, he won’t take a one-year max deal and will take the 8-year, 88 million dollar deal the Isles are reportedly offering him.

There are obviously other UFAs and trade targets to think about but they don’t really matter until the John Tavares is off the board.

#Scratchpad #Draft #Prospects #Free Agency #Summer 2018