#( black butler biz )

[getonite]

I LOVED THIS WEEKS EPISODE OMGGG 😝

sebaciel pls do not interact, i keep forgetting to out that as a warning. i do nawt fw yall 😭

sebastian "they can't focus with a boner" michaelis.

THEY ARE EATING IT UP LEAVE THEM BE!! SHOW MORE THAN LEGS HELL!! WE WANT WOMEN TO BE MORE FREE, SPECIFICALLY ME, SHOW SOME PUSSY GIRL

his dramatic, stealthy ahh. he looks fucking stupid 😭 (lovingly)

LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. PLEASE SIR PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE (also, my other man is coming 🤭)

GET IT SEXY GET IT SEXY GET IT SEXY!!!! 😝 PLEASE I WANT HIM SO FUCKING BAD

his evil dramatic ass. he's certainly the queen's guard dog lmfao (i love him so much)

PROFESSOR MICHEALIS FUCK MEEEEEE

rail me against the mattress maybe? forearms OUT, that smile???? fuck me pls. i love them both sm <3

getting a little deja vu here 🤔 (also, seeing ciel look so fucking happy hurt me, genuinely)

#( black butler biz ) #can't wait for my grim reaperrrrr #sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji #black butler #black butler season 4 #black butler public school arc #ciel phantomhive #lawrence bluewer #herman greenhill #ran mao #lau black butler #sebaciel dni

[thatbanditqueen]

Against the Wall Chapter 1

An Austin Butler 1980s Hollywood Christmas Story

This is Chapter One of a 3-part story I plan to post between now and NYE. It’s my first AB fic, my third fic ever... so be kind. I’m convinced, as always, that its... well.... not great... but whatever. I’m committed to seeing how many bars and alley ways my characters can f*&k in.... Please share/reblog if you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve 1987, and Austin finds himself at a Silverlake dive bar, where he meets the voluptuous and insecure Hannah. Both struggling to make it in the movie biz, they embark on a tumultuous relationship....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, drugs, alcohol, references to toxic relationships, infidelity.

Words: 13.8 K.... the next one won’t be as long, exposition....

Playlist to keep you company as you read....

Chapter One: Bruised Bananas

 1:16 a.m. Thursday, December 24, Technically Friday morning, December 25, 1987

The Black Cat Lounge, Silver Lake

“You sure its ok for me to go, Han Han?”

Hannah leaned in, struggling to talk over the sound of Depeche Mode reverberating through the small, dark club.

“Course! I know you don’t get any in Iowa, so go have fun with Rod.”

“I think his name is Todd! OK….   maybe you’ll meet someone before closing? You’ve been working your brains out, you deserve a good Christmas fuck,” Sara looked into her friend’s eyes, and kissed her  cheek. “Call me tomorrow? I live near Abe’s, maybe I’ll stop by and say hi…”

“Yes, please, Sloan’s back from New York and she’s bringing her latest victim, I’ll need you…”

Sara nodded as she followed Rod or Todd or whatever to the door.  Hannah sipped her vodka tonic, relaxing, she felt warm and happy. The air was full of cigarette smoke, chatter and excitement. New Order’s “Bizarre Love Triangle” started and she hummed along, enjoying how the loud synth boomed through her body as she basked in the glow of the Christmas lights around the bar, the only bright spot in an otherwise almost pitch black room.  Christmas Eve girl’s night was their tradition, usually there were five or six high school friends but tonight it was the two of them. Sara was home from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop for a week, so when Rod or Tod or whatever his name had started buying them drinks, Hannah was happy for her. Sara paused and look back, eye brow arched silently confirming one last time that it was really ok to leave Hannah on her own. Hannah hoisted her thumbs up in the air and smiled broadly. Lopsidedly. Drunkenly. She rubbed her eyes, forgetting she had make up on. A fuzziness grew at the top of her head. You should go too… go pee… then leave.

There was a long line at the bathroom. This is going to take forever…..  Hannah pushed up the sleeves of her black, sequined blazer, wondering if she could make it home first. Even the thought of peeing made her want to burst.  Don’t risk pissing yourself in the cab, just be patient, get in line.  Her stomach dropped a bit when making eye contact with some of the girls leaning against the wall, looking her up and down. She suddenly felt self conscious, fat, ugly….. New year’s goal, get down to a size twelve you stupid cow. Smoothing down her tight leather mini-skirt as she shifted in place, she argued with herself, that’s just your mom talking, shut up and love your self, stupid. Then a genius idea struck, and she walked towards the men’s restroom and swung through the door, making eye contact with the solitary man washing his hands.

“Of course there’s no line, s’totally unfair, isn’t it?” She said, winking, he smiled as he left.

The relief was immediate. Hannah sat there in the stall, she had never been so happy to sit and pee quietly in a bathroom. She pulled up her fishnets, arranging herself to leave when she heard the door followed by trousers zipping open. Oh well. Boobs first, Hannah made her way to the sink, grateful for masculine bathroom etiquette, the blonde white guy at the urinal kept his eyes forward while she washed up. She dried her hands, slowly, enjoying the voyeurism of watching him shake, zip up and turn around in the mirror, unaware of her. He stopped and grinned when he noticed her, blue eyes alight with surprise.

“Whooo, hey, what’s a bathroom like you doing in a girl like this?” His voice was gravelly and his eyes laughed, drawing Hannah in, she turned toward him as he twisted the faucet. Hair combed back in a high, messy, casual quiff, his square cheekbones were an invitation. He continued talking, washing his hands, laughter in his voice.

“Either you’re the most convincing drag queen I’ve ever met, or you’re lost….”

Hannah shifted, drawn in by his warm voice, the challenge of his droll banter… she ran her hand through her curly auburn hair.

“I’m just starting the bathroom revolution, baby, if you don’t have to wait in line, neither should we.”

“Ok, Gloria Steinem,” he said slowly, extending the last “nummmm” with a flick of his tongue, mouth open, looking her up and down. A bemused smile curving in his lips. It sent a shiver up her belly and through her chest as she felt the impish tenor of his voice roll over her.  

“Ya know, you actually strike me as the sort of girl who probably spends a lot of time hanging out in men’s restrooms…. checking out the goods…. picking up dates…” 

“Ha!” Hannah’s head flew back, she weaved and steadied herself, leaning further into the counter. “You got me! That’s my plan here.” Emboldened by his smile, she leaned closer and whispered, “Tell me, is it working?” 

He brushed one of her errant curls behind her ear, looking into her eyes, and then at her breasts as they heaved up and down in her low cut silk top. Biting his lip, he dropped to her ear.

“Well, you definitely got my attention.”

The air hitched in Hannah’s throat, his breath was on her neck and she shuddered as butterflies danced through the walls of her vagina. What the fuck is happening? Is he really flirting with you? Ughhh, why are you turned on? He isn’t even your type, he looks like a stock broker…  hot, country club, beautiful yuppie scum… oh fuck it. Maybe it was the warm comfort of being drunk in a low lit room, maybe it was the thrill of being in the men’s bathroom, or maybe it was the way she could still feel the heat of his finger behind her ear. Whatever it was, Hannah broke her rule to never make the first move and drew his head down to her lips. He tasted like beer and smelled like a mix of Jasmine and amber earthiness. 

“Hey there… you’re pretty friendly for a bathroom occupying revolutionary…” he muttered, softly returning her kiss. 

Hannah’s wound her arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Don’t tell anyone but we’re all pretty easy, sex is a….” she smushed her lips against his, tugging him further down as his hands grabbed her ass, lifting her onto the sink.  “… an important part of our militant agenda… ahhh,” she moaned as he sucked at the nape of her neck, hands on top of her fishnets. 

His attention became more intense, returning to her mouth with savage, sloppy kisses, nudging his tongue in and pushing hers down before flicking the tip 

“God… you taste like strawberries…” he whispered, earnest, eager.

“That’s my …ughh… lip smackers…”

Hannah widening her legs as he pushed between them, her skirt riding up as his thumbs traced her inner thigh. She wrapped her legs around him and felt his cock stiffen. He stepped back to catch his breath and her mouth felt swollen, raw, and needy, she longed to feel his strong lips pressing back against her, owning her, compelling her to open up and bring him in. His eyes followed as his left index finger traced down the front of her shirt, slowly, grazing her breast, looking back into her eyes expectantly.

“Hey, let’s slow down….” 

Hannah’s response was dulled by the arousal vibrating between her legs, she bit her lip. 

“Hmmm….wait, what?”

“We should go back out there - dance? ”

“Ummm….”

She took a deep breathe, noting the bulge of his erection as he ran his fingers through his  dirty blonde hair, relishing how his sure hands grabbed her and tenderly lifted her off the counter .

“Unless you want to turn me around and just have your away with me here?”

“Public sex isn’t really my thing.” 

“Ah, you are more of a gentleman than I am, sir, I would have had my way with you right here and now…” Hannah winked, enjoying the blush that spread with his smile as he took her hand. She didn’t recognize herself, talking this way, the words just stumbled out of her mouth

“C’mon.” Something in Hannah’s belly curled as he grabbed her hand, his strong grip pulled her to him and she became an extension of his body, fitting neatly into the curve of his armpit, giddy as he looked down at her with a goofy grin on the way to the dance floor.

The music enveloped them as he unfurled her and moved his shoulders, swaying his hips to the sounds of Siousxie and the The Banshees. She turned and backed into him, moving in rhythm, lifting her arm to pull his mouth to her neck, rubbing her ass into his hips, turning back to wrap her hands around his neck. They moved together, awkwardly at first, then relaxing to meld in synchronicity to the beat. The slow, sad opening chords of Duran Duran’s “The Chauffeur” blared out and Hannah leaned into him.

“This is the last call song, it’s bar time.”

“Oh, cool… I need air anyway….”

Hannah moved towards the front door, then felt his hand on her shoulder,  he was nodding toward to the back exit.  Hannah pulled him into her arms as they stumbled into the alley, now he was walking her back to the brick wall across from the club, behind a set of dumpsters. She leaned into the cold surface, feeling its uneven rough ridges through the back of her thighs. The sharp sensation arousing her even more.

“What’s your name, anyway?” She asked.

“Austin…”

She whimpered as he kissed her, shallow at first and then deeply, slowly, his hands pressed on either side of her.

“I’m…. Hannah….”

“Hannah…..that’s my favorite name….”

“Liar….. “

“It wasn’t before tonight… but right now it’s… “ he kissed her neck, “the only name…” he kissed her clavicle, ”I wanna know….”

He paused, stepping back and taking a joint out. Hannah looked him over, like her, he was dressed head to toe almost entirely in black, punctuated by a metallic dark blue dress shirt that blended in with the rest in the darkness. The contrast made his blonde hair and lightly tannned skin all the more radiant. His bright blue eyes shone with lust as he lit up the joint and inhaled. Hannah reached over, taking it without asking, looking into his eyes intently as she leaning up to shot gun the smoke into his open lips.  Austin’s fingers traced the side of her cheek, down her jaw. 

“You are pretty cute, you know… for a sharp tongued broad who likes to harass men in the john.”

Hannah’s eyes sparkled as she gasped a “ha,” but he could see that his fingers  flustered her. Austin liked the idea that he was making her blush, making her speechless, smirking as her lips hung apart. The look of pure, unadulterated desire on her face made his cock hard, it had been at half mast since they left the bathroom. Her brown eyes looked up at him with awe, not demanding attention, not  expecting anything, she looked genuinely thrilled just to be there, standing in his shadow and fooling around. It had been a long time since he was with a woman who didn’t seem to demand constant flattery and praise. Austin looked back into her eyes, they seemed unsure, playful, innocent, an effect heightened by how hard she was trying to seem confident and experienced, grabbing the joint out of his hand in mock defiance. He lost himself watching her, wondering what it would be like to taste her as he took it back and sucked in another hit, savoring the strawberry lip balm that lingered on the tip of the joint. His left hand moved into the wall as he hovered over her, smiling down at Hannah. He was torn between a primal desire to protect and care for her, and pillage every orifice. The tenor of her voice and the way she seemed almost overwhelmed by their closeness on the dance floor gave him the impression she didn’t do this sort of thing with strangers often.

“So….Hannah…. nice to, uh,  meet you …” 

She smiled, a blush returning to her cheeks as her eyes fell to the ground, her hips falling further against the wall. Austin inhaled and held her chin up so he could now shotgun the smoke into her mouth. Her eyes answering his unspoken question by pressing her hands on his shoulders as she held in the hit for a few seconds, her forehead now grazing his, their noses touching. The sensation was intensely intimate, and Hannah’s expression shifted to a challenging smile as she took the joint back from him once again. Austin felt a bolt of electricity go up his spine and settle at the base of his skull, his whole body buzzed. He was transfixed, unable to break eye contact as his fingers moved up and down the voluptuous, soft curves of her hips. He loved the way her body welcomed his hands, warm, pleasant, comforting, he wanted to submerge himself into her plush bosom. His thought of his last girlfriend, all tight skin and bones, a sharp edged bird. 

Hannah’s dark curls bobbed up and down like her tits, Austin couldn’t help touching them. He pulled on a curl, watching intently as it sprang up and down, then doing the same experiment with her right breast, caressing beneath it and then lifting it up to watch it bounce. He could spend hours just watching the buoyancy of these tits heave above him. He leaned in, now his lips were again on her neck, his hands moving down her thighs, a moan escaping her mouth through the rich, exhale of smoke. She threw the joint on the ground, hands moving under his jacket, as Austin traced up her thighs. His fingers moved up her skirt, almost absentmindedly, seeking out the warmth inside her panties and between her legs. Hannah arched into him as his fingers lightly grazed the public hair at her entrance, looking up she saw uncertainty in his eyes.

“Is this ok?” His voice was low, cracked, his mouth parted. 

She nodded and he kissed along her jaw, moving  into the base of her neck, then her ear, his fingers delving between her and slowly, carefully, yet purposefully, stroking up and down over her clit, finding the moisture and using the slick to rub her in rhythm with her hip as it thrust forward. He joined her, rutting against her leg, gently sliding his index finger lower, into her cunt, gasping as he worked the tight clench, using his thumb to follow her moans, noting how she trembled most when he thumbed a half circle along the left side of her nub. She became slippery and soft, opening for him, her hands around his back, she moaned into the alley, her back rubbing against the rough bricks behind her with abandon. Shiny, black sequins from her blazer spiraled to the ground.  Austin stopped nibbling her ear, shifting above her, looking into her eyes.

“You are….. so beautiful,”  His cheeks flush, his thumb flicking back and forth, Hannah moaned out as he pushed his middle finger into her now.

“Don’t do that.” She said, looking up at him.

“Does that hurt?” He asked, pulling his second finger out, maintaining his slow, rhythmic flex.

“No, I mean what you said. Don’t talk …like that. Don’t lie to me, don’t say cheesy things because you think I need them… I don’t… I… ughh…. I don’t want you to be nice to meEEeee…”

Austin’s smiled as he felt her shudder, unable to stop her voice from trembling under his touch. Then he considered what she had said, his brows furrowing as he stopped fingering her. 

“Hey.” He moved her hand to his cock, hard and protruding through his trousers. His voice was low but firm. “I don’t like it when people tell me how I feel, or what to say…. Feel that? I’m not here saying things to be nice… you turn me on. I think you are beautiful… and I don’t care if you agree, honestly…”

She looked up at him, her large brown eyes serious. “I just can’t take it when men are…  nice to me.” She kissed his chin, her hand slowly rolling over his member. “I want you to be mean, be rough…hurt me…” 

Austin shook his head, his thumbs flicking over her nipples as he glided his hands over her breast.

“What… so you would prefer me to call you like… an ugly slut while I pound you into oblivion?”

Hannah nodded.

“Mmhmmmm.”

Austin’s bit his lip as she moved her hand, continuing to rub the outline of his cock and then pulling on his belt.

His left hand went to the base of her throat, tightening a little, then releasing as she paused.

“Sorry baby, mean and rough ain’t my thing…” he turned her around, slowly, and pressed her against the wall, she felt the cold brick against her cheek as he lips warmed her shoulder, sucking and nibbling as he slowly rolled her skirt up. Hannah gasped, moaning into the bricks, as Austin spoke, his words punctuated by each kiss to her neck. 

 “If you want me to fuck you... you’re going to have to take me….  Nice and slow…”

He arched his eyebrow as Hannah looked over her shoulder at him and nodded in assent.

“Yeah, ok pretty boy…  fuck me then….  Do you, uh, have a condom?”she asked, trembling. Hannah had never had a man treat her this way, it was the most baffling sensation, he asserted his dominance while seeming reverential. She hadn’t been with anyone since Eddie, her last serious boyfriend, and he was punishing in bed, taking pleasure in degrading her as he punched through her like a jack hammer. She felt all the blood go to her core as Austin promised to fuck her slowly, and she throbbed for him even more.

The need in her eyes made Austin momentarily unable to talk, just nod, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a condom, relief washing over him that there was one because he hadn’t planned on having sex tonight. He looked around, briefly brought out of lust’s heady daze of to put his wallet away, condom wrapper in mouth. He glanced down the alley, ensuring they were alone, even somewhat hidden from the back of the club behind the dumpsters. However, he knew anyone walking by would catch them, and the prospect both terrified and excited him. Looking back towards Hannah, he realized she was watching him ardently as he undid his trousers, letting them slide to the ground, shoving his briefs down and rolling the rubber on.

Testes pulled up in the cool night air, Austin leaned into Hannah for warmth, kissing the cushy softness of her ass, lowering her panties, swearing out with a whispered apology as he accidentally ripped her fishnets, he was so eager,  hurriedly sparked on by the arousal building in his stomach at the sight of her plump, heart shaped bottom. His hand cupped the softness and then slapped it gently, the pliant give of her cheeks tightening his erection as he halted at her entrance and slowly nudged forward, finding it still somewhat tight, yet also slick and welcoming. As he hesitated, Hannah pushed back on to him.

“I said fuck me pretty boy…” 

Austin let out a half laugh that turned into a moan as he reveled in her snug, inviting pussy, moving cautiously as he felt her soften and stretch.

“Does this feel ok?”he asked in her ear, and she nodded.

“Harder.” She called out, looking over her shoulder, seeing his mouth open in silent concentration as he surged gently into her again.

“Like I said, don’t…  tell me….” He kissed her shoulder, and grabbed her more firmly at the hips “….what do to….”

He plunged back into her, taking care to remain slow, steady, controlled, savoring how her soft hips moved back to meet him with each forward movement, never fully leaving her warm cunt as he burrowed deeper and deeper, opening her further up to him with every thrust. His right hand moved from her waist to her shoulder, as he pushed her harder against the rough surface of the wall without realizing it, fixated on kissing her neck, then just on breathing as he began to pump into her with slightly more force and speed.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growled into her ear, she moaned back loudly, then his head fell forward into her back.

“Mmhmmm….. oh god….”

“Hey, let me know when you are close, ok?” He panted.

Hannah gasped, heaving. Just tell him, tell him, you don’t cum during sex… But she couldn’t, she didn’t want to discourage him, ruin the mood, stop him from continuing his steady thrusts that felt so good she planned to think of them later, alone, touching herself. So she nodded, gasping out “Okkkk…”

Austin pushed her further into the wall, increasing his rhythm.

“Ughhh, let me know if I’m hurting you, ok…?”

“No… this is good, I’m umMM… good” she said meaning it, but followed with a lie. “I’m getting close.”

His head fell into her back and he kissed her blazer. Her rough, scratchy, sequined blazer. He kissed it over and over again, as he grabbed at her side, her waist, her neck, his other hand pushing the wall over her shoulder for balance. Hannah felt the pebbly indentation of the bricks gouging into her own hands, too distracted by the pummel of him inside her to notice the pain. Desperate moans escaped her lips, she focused on the crush of Austin’s frame into her, shuddering as she pushed backwards into his insistent lunge. Reveling in the sensation of his hands brushing away the hair at her neck to kiss her, the rhythm of his cock plunging into her, the sounds of his breath, the firm yet considerate lilt of his voice. She moaned out loudly, trying to summon the sound of convincing orgasm, leaning back into him, and crying out. 

He followed a few minutes later with his own exclamation, breathing out a succession of “oh gods” in a low, frantic howl, heaving in and out several more times, then grabbing her hips to stop, extracting himself gently, holding her at her waist, kissing her neck one last time. Hannah leaned forward against the wall, catching her breath as she heard him tie off the condom and throw it over the top of the dumpster, then zip up his pants. His sweet, steady manner was jarring in comparison to her previous lovers. The ache of the rough, sharp bricks against her face and hands suddenly begin to set in, but her legs wobbled slightly and she leaned back to the wall to steady herself, a few after shock twitches as she tried to move. He took off his jacket and used it to wipe between her legs, carefully bringing her underwear and most of her stockings back over her bum as lightly as he could, smoothing her skirt down. Hannah rolled against the wall to turn around, still panting, and took in the satisfied, foolish grin on Austin’s face.

“Hey…” he murmured, his lips pursed together as they curled, his fingers brushing her hair out of her face, taking her hand, kissing the back of her wrist. “This is… crazy…I’ve… I’ve never done anything like this.”

Hannah inhaled deeply, tucking her shirt in.

“What, sex in public?”

“Yeah, s’not really my thing. And with a stranger. A crazy one who tried to make me hate fuck her….”

Hannah’s cheeks reddened.

“Yeah… I usually can’t get it up for nice guys… right? Ugh, gag me with a spoon….  I just don’t go in for the ‘oh baby you’re so beautiful’ routine….”

“Too bad, because baby…. you are so beautiful…”

“Just stop … ”

“What’s your deal?”

“Look, I know I’m ok, maybe cute, but I can’t stand it when guys exaggerate… I’m no super model... I actually have one in my family…. so I know what beautiful is…”

“Well… I’ve dated girls like that… Trust me, they ain’t all they’re cracked up to be. Petty, dramatic, high maintenance, no sex drive because they are STARVing? No…  I actually think I prefer having something soft to hold onto… ” He leaned down to kiss the top of her cleavage.

Despite her best efforts to stay cool and aloof, a genuine smile beamed through Hannah’s face as she swatted him away from her boobs and guffawed.

“Stop.”

Austin paused, leaning above her, blazer slung over his shoulder. Hannah eyed it, thinking how he used it to wipe away her sweat and slick, how much it would cost to dry-clean. Although, something about Austin gave her the impression he didn’t worry about dry-cleaning bills. He probably grew up in a big, expensive house, going to private schools, belonging to a country club. Suddenly self conscious, she wiped under her eyes.

“I must look like a mess…”

“A beautiful mess…”

“Ok, seriously, stop… you’re the beautiful one, pretty boy, really…”

Hannah soaked in the warmth of his breath, and trembled looking up into his eyes. He searched her face, an inquisitive look spreading he glanced down the alley.

“Hey, let’s go back to your place.”

“What? Why? I don’t even know you….”

A “ha!” escaped Austin’s mouth, floating up into the dark Christmas Eve sky. “Are you kidding me ? I was just inside you…”

“Well…”

“Look, I’m staying with a friend who lives down the street… we can’t go back there, I actually came here because he was fighting with his girlfriend… So we’re going back to your place… I’m not finished with you yet.”

“What?”

“You didn’t cum…Tell me I’m wrong?”

She stuttered. “It doesn’t matter, we both had fun…”

“ ‘It doesn’t matter…’ is definitely a no… “

“You don’t owe me anything…. It’s late, and I’m actually" Hannah stopped as a yawn escaped her lips “ quite tired…”

His lips turned into a mischievous smile. “I do owe you, and I always settle my debts… I might be more of a feminist then you are… female orgasms are my favorite…” He raised his fist and pumped it to the sky, laughing at her eye roll.

“OK,” he continued, “This is ridiculous, shut your pretty face and let’s go already.” 

Austin winked as he whisked her next him, putting his arm around her as he walked them down to the end of the alley and into a cab. 

———

A simple framed poster for Some Like it Hot in Italian greeted Austin as he followed Hannah into her small, second story studio apartment awash in film posters, art, dirty coffee cups and empty beer cans.

“It’s a mess, sorry, when I’m not working I’m sleeping…. Can I make you some tea?” She asked, an anxious energy in her voice as she turned around, slipping off her shoes and blazer. Grabbing a hair clip from the kitchen bar that clearly doubled as a filing cabinet, rolodex and table, Hannah pinned up her sweaty, curly hair. 

He shook his head. “So, what do you do? You know… when you aren’t seducing men in alleys?”

“Ha! You are fucking hilarious… that was also my first time doing anything like that…” 

She grabbed his hand as he tried to pull her back into an embrace, turning to the sink, filling a glass with water.

 “I’m an editor….  film editor…. I’m working a few so-so jobs right now but.. I’m working on my networking skills…”

“Oh, so you're in the biz?”

“Yeah… yeah… you?”

“Yeah, actually, I’m an actor..”

“No... no! You seem too nice for an actor… too smart…”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone knows actors are just empty vessels… vain stupid empty vessels…  they are the worst…. I’ve never met one who wasn’t a complete asshole. Think they’re the most important part of a movie… don’t understand the real artistry is the invisible stuff….”

“Like editing?” He grinned.

“Yes! Editing, writing, sound, camera work… everything else! Editing makes the movie… s’what puts the story together, otherwise it would 100s of hours of different takes out of order…. All actors have to do is show up and let other people dress them and do their hair and feed them their lines…. Ugh, I hate actors.”

Austin grabbed Hannah and pulled her onto his lap as he sat on her orange, leather arm chair, the only place he could see to relax, and kissed her with a smile.

“Ok, ok, I give in, you win, actors are slime and editors are unappreciated artistes…”

She put her arms around his neck.

“Hmm, see, you are smart…. For an actor… So, Austin, you been in anything I would have heard of?”

“Not unless you’ve been watching a lot of NYU student films….”

“Oh no, you’re not still in college, are you?”

“No, I graduated last year, just been living in New York, going out on auditions, I’ve had a few bit parts off broadway…”

“Anything promising.” She watched his face light up.

“Yeah, actually…” he looked down coyly, “I just scored a part in Sydney Pollack’s next movie, I’m moving back out here for it. My agent said its already opening up more  auditions… s’really exciting, actually…”

Hannah paused, her hand ran through his hair.

“Wow, Austin…  Pollack, good for you…. Wait, you said you are moving ‘back’?”

“Yeah, I actually grew up in Anaheim….”

“Oh no, you’re an actor AND you’re from Orange County?” She leaned into his neck all mock agony.

“What? What’s wrong with Orange County?”

“Everything… I know all I need to know…  next you’re gonna tell me you voted for Reagan… wait, don’t….”

“What’s wrong with Ronald Reagan” he laughed, taking her head in his hands and kissing her nose. “You are such a fucking fuss budget, you crack me up….” Drawing her head next to his, mussing her hair, looking up at the art on her wall, absentmindedly kissing her forehead.

Hannah embraced the pleasant comfort of Austin’s arms, looking at his profile, noticing the way his hair seemed to fall into a disheveled coiff yet still seemed effortlessly sexy. I’m lucky I met you before you were in a movie… who knows the next time you’ll have a one night stand with an average girl…. She flicked the bottom of his earlobe, and he turned toward her. 

“Wanna fool around?” He asked her and she gently slapped the side of his cheek with her hand.

“Don’t you get tired? It’s almost 4 … we should set up the bed…. I probably smell amazing,” sarcasm dripped from her tongue. “But honestly I can’t be arsed to shower.”

Austin moved his hands underneath her knees and around her shoulder, lifting her up, smelling her crotch, armpits, hair as she giggled and shrieked.

“Smell fucking amazing… you smell like fun….”

Hannah jumped up, extending her hand to lead him to bed. Which was standing upright on the wall of the living room.

“Wow, a Murphy bed? I’ve never actually seen one of these in-person…”

“Yeah, they don’t have these in Orange County, do they? I’m guessing my apartment could fit into one of your mansion’s bathrooms…” He shoved her shoulder with a ha ha ha as she kept talking. “This apartment was built in the ‘30s. It’s small, but it’s all I can afford and it’s only 15 minute over the hill into Burbank.”

“Oh, are you working at Warner?”

“No, I’m free lancing it, I’m at a little post house, we do a lot of Disney’s stuff…”

“Wow, look at you….” An expression of respect formed on his face as he watched her pull the bed down. He knew a few editors from his program at NYU, they were all dudes. Every editor he’d ever heard of was a dude. His own brief experience learning basic editing in a required class had shown him how much he detested that kind of work, he was not cut out for the grinding, thankless schedule of postproduction and the patient attention to detail it demanded.

“The sheets are dirty —“

“S’all good with me —“

“I guess I should change…”

Austin moved toward her, she froze in silence as his hands slowly untucked her shirt and lifted it over her head as she shifted, a nervous laugh startling out of her throat. She looked up at him, dazzled by his attention, soaking in his reverence as the back of his fingers trailed over her naked belly, turning her around as he kissed her back and unclasped her bra. Throwing it to the side, he turned his attentions to unzipper her skirt, bring her back to face him as he pulled her skirt down with her fishnets and panties to the floor, kissing the smooth skin over her plump belly,settling on his knees to lift her feet one-by-one as he gently took her clothes off. He drew her down to the edge of the bed, looking into her eyes.

“There, I think you’re ready for bed…..”

“Ha….” She said, almost breathless, pushing up on his shoulders. “I need to brush my teeth…” she patted him on the head, ambling to her little bathroom, looking back over her shoulder to see him watching after her naked bottom with a happy, dazed look on his face.

——-

12:05 p.m.  Friday morning, (Technically it had been afternoon for six minutes)  December 25, 1987

It was when Austin tossed into her and began snoring on the top of her head that Hannah woke up, finding his left hand cupping her breast from under her shirt. She lay there for ten minutes, enjoying the cozy warmth of his body as it spooned into her. The hard dagger of his morning wood jabbing in her ass made her sizzle, she hadn’t even really gotten a good look at it in the dark, but she knew it was a girthy bugger from slight soreness that lingered between her legs. His embrace was wonderful, but she couldn’t bear Austin’s snoring, it got increasingly louder and made her cracking hangover unbearable. How the fuck can someone so hot make these unholy sounds? Despite her best efforts to disentangle herself without waking him, she saw his eyes blink open as she held his arm, hesitating to find the best place to put it. His hand grasped hers and kissed the back of her palm, groggy, half asleep, he rubbed his eyes.

“Hey…. beautiful…” a sunny smile greeting her as he gathered her from behind back into his arms, smushing his lips into the curve of her neck.

“Hmm…. beautiful, huh…  forget my name?” She asked, turning inward to look at him with a teasing grin. He planted a strong peck on her lips. 

“Oh Hannah, I wasn’t that drunk… you know athletic activity helps keep the mind alert when drinking…” Austin wiggled his eye brows.

“Oh it does, huh? That is some bullshit…”

He smiled as he kissed her again, now hovering over her, her hips sideways against him. The unmistakable bulge of his cock against her ass. 

“It does…. I remember everything….. so, why are you so feisty this morning?” He said, gazing at her breasts. “Oh, right, now I remember… I still owe you a —"

“Austin ha! No… you don’t owe me anything—“

He put his finger to her mouth.

“Shhhhh….  Trust me, I’ve slept with more women than you, most girls don’t cum during sex… at least at first with me … ” he winked, his lips returning to their home on her neck.

“Oh? And how many women are we talking about here? What’s your sample size?”

Austin sighed, and stopped moving his hand up her thigh, settling back and leaning into her shoulder, his hands snaking around to grasp her tightly.

“Do you really want to know?”

“What do you mean?”

“How many?”

“I was just questioning your research methods,” Hannah turned to kiss his cheek, looking up into his eyes, a nervous laugh escaping “I’m just joking around….  I don’t know anything about you, I don’t know your last name, I don’t know how old you are…  last night was fun but…I’m a big girl, I know how this ends….  I don’t expect you to share your ...” she kissed his chin and flicked hair out of his eyes “... life history with me.” Hannah kissed him on his lips, and rolled over to get up. He pulled her back to him.

“Hey! Where do you think you are going… “

“To make coffee?”

“Oh no you don’t… ” he leaned in to kiss her again, barely detaching his mouth to mutter in-between soft, sloppy pecks to her lips. “My last name is Butler,” smush, “I’m 23,” smish, “I don’t do a lot of one night stands…." smash “I’m kind of a serial monogamist…” smosh “I’ve had … let’s see … three serious girlfriends …” smush, “and a handful of on-again-off-again casual relationships…a few one-time things, ” smash, “but I actually like good sex…” smosh, “and I find sex is just better when you get to….” smush, “know someone’s body…” he finished with a wink, brushing his fingers along her face. Each kiss sent a bolt of electricity down Hannah’s spine, and she sighed when he stopped, running her index finger lazily along his bare shoulder.

“Do you know how many people you have slept with? Like ever?“

“Probably around 25… counting everything… Do you? Do you keep a list or just use a bathroom turnstile or what?” Hannah let out a laugh, and shoved him as he grinned, kissing her neck, and working his way lower, trying to lift off her shirt. Flames ran up through her torso but she swatted him away. Folding his arms on top of her belly, he rested his head and looked up at her.

“Your turn….” He slapped her thigh. “Full name?”

“Hannah… Rosenfeld…. 24… Leo….  two serious boyfriends … I’ve probably slept with about 10 people, total.”

“And how many of them made you cum?”

Hannah looked up at him, blushing, and turned to talk into the pillow.

“I can’t talk about this with someone I only just met…”

She rolled off and went to the kitchen area. Austin pushed up in bed and watched her. 

“Why not? It’s perfectly normal and natural.”

Hannah looked at him over the kitchen counter as she filled her kettle with water. 

“It’s…  it’s complicated …”

Austin got up and walked over, taking the kettle out of her hands, gliding his fingers up and down her sides. Hannah quivered, leaning back into the counter, hands pushed against the hard laminate surface, she breathing louder and louder as his fingers moved to her panties, his muscular abs grazing over her breasts, his mouth hovering over her ear as he spoke softly, deeply.

“S’not complicated…”

He kissed under her ear, his hands worked inside her underwear, brushing over her, before moving down on his haunches to take them off, kissing the soft woolly patch at the apex of her legs. Hannah gasped as he rose and grabbed her by the waist, hoisting her up on the counter as she snorted.

“Austin..” She hit his arm. “What are you doing?”

He shushed her, putting his fingers into her mouth, and then bringing them between her folds. Hannah felt a tension building in her stomach, her chest began to ache and she inhaled deeply as he parted her thighs wide, a serious look on his face as he returned to her eyes.

“Just …relax….”

“But I ——“

His lips were soft as he kissed her, stroking the flame that was growing in her core, feeling the wetness that was developing.

“Please…I fucking love doing this….” 

Hannah gasped and nodded, watching him lower himself onto the floor, the thought that his quads were incredibly strong for someone so skinny passed through her mind. It was quickly gone as she heard him moan approvingly, fingers parting her outer lips.

“Good, you are so damn beautiful…” 

She laughed, vibrating at the way he enunciated each syllable in bee -ut - a - fulll. Playfully slapping the side of his head, they exchanged a lusty glance as he looked up at her with a devious smile, then resumed his attention to her pussy. Hannah’s eyes squeezed shut and she fell back on her elbows as Austin leaned forward kissing her inner thighs, enjoying the whimpers emerging from her mouth as he rubbed her center with his thumb. Making his way in, one soft kiss at time, he put her legs over his shoulders and opened her further with his hands.  

He smiled as her back arched and bit his lip, then leaning in to flick her lightly with his tongue, back and forth. The sensation was almost too intense on her clit, and Hannah called out in-between moans, embracing the tingling feeling growing in her depths as he moved the tip of his tongue in circles around her. Burrowing further, he nudged her clit up and down with his nose as he kissed and laved her entrance, then turned back to her pulsating round nub. Hannah called out indecipherable words as his tongue darted up and down the left side of her clit, long and slow, then shifting to lick across in quick, short staccato movements. She twitched as she felt the warm breath of his mouth on her nub, then thrusting forward as his right index finger slide into her and crooked up, gently swirling until Hannah jolted up with a cry. Austin paused and looked up at her, finger inside her but stilled.

“Uh, yeah… I just ….”

“Hmmm…. I feel like Columbus, did I just discover Hannah’s G spot…?”

“Columbus was a genocidal ….” She breathed out, chest heaving. “maniac….  But…. I do think you are …on to something…”

Austin laughed, and Hannah smiled at his blissed out eyes and goofy smile, his chin covered in her slick.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No…” she whispered.

“What was that?”

“No please god….. don’t stop…. Don’t ever stopppp” Hannah called out, trembling as she felt the hum of his self satisfied laugh against her clit, the feel of his index finger pushing in and out of the spongy, soft bundle of nerves inside her walls caused her to spasm uncontrollably. The more slippery she became, the more acutely she felt each stroke of Austin’s pointed tongue beckoning her into oblivion. The contrast between the light flicks of his tongue and the firm, forceful movements of his fingers drove her over the edge. A heat began to violently develop inside her core and Hannah screamed out as euphoric wave after wave spread through her pussy outward to her thighs and up through her belly button. Austin continued to press her clit gently with his thumb as he fell back on his shins, enraptured by the way her face contorted into a look of painful ecstasy.

“Uhhh. Stop…. Enough… I can’t ….” 

He laughed, gripping her thighs as he stood, wiping her dampness along his wrist, kissing her, stroking the sides of her legs. Hannah faltered trying to push up on her elbows against the counter, her arm hit the faucet, splashing water on them and into the sink. Austin stood between her as she pushed it off, stroking her thighs.

“Oh god…” she wiped her brow, tasting herself on his lips with a soft kiss.

“You ok?”

“Mmmhmmm….”

A soft, sweaty glow radiated across Hannah’s face, she grinned at the stiffness of Austin’s cock against her thigh. She worked his briefs down, glancing up to see the fierce need within his eyes, his lip parted as she brought him to her entrance at the edge of the kitchen counter, inhaling as he sunk into her slowly, feeling the pinch, the soreness from last night all but gone. He stopped, not moving as she thrust up into him. Austin gasped sharply, his length fully within her. His hands at her hips, he moved his right hand up to cup her face.

“Hey… I don’t have any more condoms.” He said, thrusting back slowly, and then forward a little, moaning. “Ahhh god, you feel so amazing…. But … we should stop.” 

Hannah leaned back, arms over his shoulders, uttering a frustrated grunt.

“I definitely don’t have any condoms either… fuck… you could just pull out… “ she offered, bringing him back into her, arching her hips into him, relishing the sound of his “fuckkkkk” as he stretched her open.

“Are you on the pill?”

She shook her head, “No, I just got off in August… dry spell… figured I’d just use condoms and go back on if I started dating someone… fuck…” She didn’t share the real reason, how she thought it would be easier to loose weight off the pill. She didn’t want to break whatever spell made this handsome, too handsome, man think she was fuckable.

“OK, yeah… let’s stop… I gotta go to a Christmas thing…. and fuckkk… ok…. we should .. definitely stop… ” 

“Hmm… I don’t… want … to either… but … I have ... same …”

Austin paused, just standing there, still buried to the hilt in Hannah. He kissed her, deepening with each one, tightening his embrace as Hannah whimpered. He looked down into her eyes.

“I want to see you again.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I have a thing…”

“After?”

“Maybe….”

“Take you out… like on a date….”

“Ok.” Her voice was soft and breathy.

He pulled out of her, slowly, evincing a deep moan.

“I’m going to go buy the biggest box of condoms….” He promised, smiling into her with another kiss.

Hannah laughed, putting her hand around his dick, feeling her slick lubricating him as she tugged.

“I could still get you off?” She offered, puckering her mouth with a loud POP.

He looked over at the clock, it was 1:30.

“Fuck, god… but… ughhhh…. its ok… I’m a big boy… and I gotta jet,  I have two different parties I have to go to, and I’m already gonna be late…”

Hannah traced the ridges of the corded muscles along his abs, nodding, knowing she also needed to shower and get ready for her day. He helped her off the counter, kissing her, and  moving to find his clothes.

“So, what are you up to? Rosenfeld…. does your family celebrate Christmas?” Austin was on the ground looking for his pants.

“My uncle does, for his wife, they’re having a big party.” She leaned into the sink, watching as he searched for his clothes, now sitting on the bed, buttoning his shirt, pulling on trousers.

“Oh, do you have a big family?”

“No… he just knows a lot of people…. It’s just me and my dad here in LA…. ”

“Ohh… “ he smiled, as he bent to pull on his black slip on shoes. “Your pop meeting you there?”

Hannah shifted, running her hand through her hair.

“Um, no, he and my uncle don’t really talk….  s’a long story…. the short version is,  my dad’s an editor too… like a sound editor, he and my uncle started out together, my uncle’s a ... uh... a producer… they both came out here, found some success… and, well, about twelve years ago my uncle agreed to invest in my dad’s business idea, a full service sound design company … then.. well, my aunt convinced him not to at the last minute.. the whole thing kind of tore our family up….”

Hannah inhaled, and stopped talking. She didn’t tell him how her father had dealt with the devastation of defaulting on his loan by drinking. Heavily. How her mom ran off to San Francisco and then back to London, to her family, to get away, leaving 12 year old Hannah there. Which was ok, if she’d had to choose, she had always been closer to her father anyway. But things got messy, her father had made the horrible decision to restart his life buying a trailer in Malibu, in a small, unofficial retirement park full of nosy old people. Hannah had to transfer from her crunchy, alternative artsy private school to Santa Monica High, the nearest public school to where they now lived. Suddenly her commute to school went from 10 minutes to an hour, and that was probably the easiest part of high school. Pot, ice cream, music and her small coterie of friends had made survival possible until she escaped to college. Things were better now, her dad was three years sober in AA, working intermittently, though mainly non-union, TV and straight to video stuff. Hannah longed to buy him a big house, set him up, let him rest, he had been grinding for thirty years. She wanted to free him, help her father move on from his disappointed, disoriented life adrift these last ten years. Hannah stopped, feeling she had overshared.

She took in Austin’s look of warm sympathy, his low “Oh… wow…”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to get heavy… but.. no, I won’t see him today… we have a tradition, we swim in ocean at dawn on New Year’s day, so I’ll drive out to his place in Malibu and see him then…. But, uh, yeah, I like started trying to mend things with my uncle about two years ago.. ha…. You know, after I graduated from UCLA and started looking for work…. My uncle is a producer… I guess I am shamelessly trying to use him….”

Austin walked over, putting his hands around Hannah.

“That’s how this business is, I’d do the exact same thing - you have to use every advantage you have, because it’s not about how good you are…. It’s about who you know…”

————

5 p.m. 

The sounds of the party downstairs floated up to the guest room where Hannah had snuck off to call her friend Sara, excitedly running through the events of the last 24 hours.

“It’s like, a Christmas miracle babe… I might actually start liking this fucking holiday… When can you get away? Come meet me here, and we can go get a drink at Barney’s… I wanna hear all about Rod Todd.”

“Yes…. It’s definitely Todd, and I don’t think my night was as exciting as your’s… Give me another hour or so and I’m there…” Sara promised. 

Hannah smiled, she had been grinning all day, hearing Austin’s voice every where she went. If she squeezed her legs she could almost imagine feeling him between them as he asked to see her again, his hard length still inside her. She straightened her white blouse walking downstairs, she even smiled at the sound of the Vienna boys choir as she ordered a glass of red wine at the bar, nodding and making small talk with some of the other people there. The guests were mostly from Paramount where her uncle was Vice President of Development, but there was an assortment of people from other studios, talent agencies, competitors and random acquaintances. Right now, Hannah was learning how her uncle’s accountant had walk-on roles in several films last year. Hannah guessed over a hundred people were wandering around the party throughout the downstairs and back yard of her aunt and uncle’s vast Bel Air mansion. 

A caterer walked by with bacon wrapped scallops, and Hannah had only popped one her mouth when her younger cousin Nathan ran up and grabbed her hand.

“Mfph… caor-ful nat-tin,” she swallowed, steadying. “Wheww, I almost spilled my wine.”

“Mom said to come find you, Sloan just arrived with her boyfriend, she wants a family photo.”

“Ok, ugh, how do I look?” Hannah asked, brushing off Nathan’s hand as she followed him to the front of the house. “Oh, how much of an arrogant douche is this one?”

“I can’t tell, he looks like he could go other way..”

Hannah laughed and then stopped in her tracks as they rounded the hallway, the air left her throat and she jumped back, startled, her hand jerking back and spilling red wine all over her white blouse, her purse dropping to the ground.

“FUck fuck fuck…” she whispered, as she bent down to grab it. You are insane, every where you go, every voice you hear, you think it’s fucking Austin. But as she stood up, she saw Austin’s horrified face looking back at her, her thin, gorgeous cousin Sloan hanging on his arm. Her model cousin Sloan. Her 20 year-old model cousin Sloan. Sloan’s mouth agape in a shocked laugh as her aunt ran over, the British accent made her voice all the more shrill.

“Hannah, oh god, did you get any wine on the carpet? Dear dear, now we’ll have to wait to do the photo… Abe, ABE!  Get Gigi out of the kitchen for me…”

Hannah trembled, putting her glass on the nearest side table, thankful all the wine had spilled on her shirt, and none had landed on the pure, white carpet. She closed her eyes, wishing to be anywhere else as her aunt turned her around and started walking them away from the group, looking back to yell.

“Please excuse me, Austin, it was so nice to see you again. I have to go get my clumsy niece sorted out…  Sloan, show him around, won’t you? We’ll do the photo later….” She moved Hannah forward. “What am I going to do with you, Hannah? I just hope we can find something that fits… maybe one of Abe’s dress shirts… oh, I think I have an oversized holiday sweater that will work.”

Hannah looked at herself in the mirror of her aunt and uncle’s master suite. A large, oversized ugly bright red Christmas sweater dwarfed her body, almost completely covering her blue mini-skirt. She fell back onto the large, soft bed, arms spread, doom enveloping her. She felt the hairspray on her dirty hair crunch. Of course. You knew he was too good to be real. Maybe you imagined last night … maybe he was just a figment of your delusional mind…. ? Wallowing in self pity, the sound of the door disturbed her from her reverie.

“It’s ok, Elaine, I’m coming - I just need a moment…”

“Hannah?” 

She jolted up at Austin’s voice, watching from across the room, arms crossed, eyes glaring as he closed the door.

“Fuck off….”

“Hannah, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh?”

“No, look… Sloan and I broke up last week… she just… I just… she asked if I would come do this one last thing as a couple… it meant a lot not to tell her mom right now… I was gonna be out here anyway…"

Hannah looked down as he strode over, backing away as he tried to embrace her, wiping the tears at her eyes.

“Don’t…”

“Please, don’t be like this… fuck… this is the most unreal fluke … ya guys don’t even have the same last name…”

“We do have the same last name,  Rosenfeld is too ugly for a model, too Jewy, Sloan shortened it to Rose when she moved to New York after high school … ”

“Hannah.” He stepped closer. “C’mon, it was an honest mistake.”

“Ok, so if it’s not such a big deal, why didn’t you mention this morning that you had to pull out of me to go take your ex-girlfriend to her family’s Christmas party? …. It’s all about who you know, isn’t Austin? Tell me. ” Hannah jeered, wiping more tears away. “Is Abe producing the film you’re in?”

Austin growled, fighting off her swats and grabbing her by the shoulders, holding her still. He wanted to choke her and fuck her into submission and comfort her all at once. The fear and anger in her eyes caused him to back off.

“Just stop, ok, you’re not being fair… " he relaxed his grip, Hannah went slack and fell into his arms. “Oh Hannah…  I’m sorry… you’re right… Sloan… we really are broken up… but … it did feel weird meeting up with her... today…. after last night… this is… gnarly…. but I like you…  I still wanna see you again, is that so crazy?” 

He took her by the chin, gently, looking into her face, searching for recognition. Her expression tensed, a stony smile formed as she pushed him away.

“Here’s the thing, Austin. Babe. There’s a girl code. Friends, cousins, their exes are off limits.”

As her feet padded down the stairs, Hannah almost ran out the door as Wham’s “Last Christmas” came over the sound system. Landing with a thud, instead, she stalked over to the bar and ordered two double vodka tonics, downing one after the other, then grabbing a glass of egg nog from the punch bowl and liberally spiked it with rum. Pacing across the room, she saw Austin come down, her mind now racing to form an escape plan, only to disintegrate inside as she watched Sloan approach her, arm around an enthusiastically smiling Sara.

“Hannah, thank god you are all cleaned up, look who I found on the front doorstep?” 

Hannah inwardly groaned, as Sloan waved Austin over, continuing.

“Hey, why don’t we all go downstairs to the den? We might find some snow after all out here in sunny California…” Sloan snaked her other arm through Hannah’s as she tried to protest.

“Hey Sloan, Sara and I have to be some—"

“I don’t mind.” Sara chimed in. 

“Don’t be silly Han Han…. Austin, bring that hot bod over here…” Sloan commanded, leading them around the house to the downstairs den, a dark room with the largest TV in the world. 

No one was around, and Sloan plopped down on the couch, opening her purse to pull out a mirror and a small coin purse, from which emerged a little baggie of white powder. Expertly lining rails of coke, Sloan paused to look up. Austin slowly went over to join her, and Sara sat on her other side.

“Are you partaking Hannie?”

“Is everyone else?”

“Why not…” Sara sighed.

Austin eyes caught Hannah’s, as she nodded. “Then yes, please…”

“What’s with you Hannah, anyway?” Sloan mumbled, rolling up a $100 bill. 

“Hannah met someone last night…” Sara giggled.

“Really?” Sloan arched her eye brow, and snorted two lines, handing it to Austin, who shook his head slightly, muttering why not as he leaned in.

“I don’t really —“

“She really likes him…. What did you say? He was the sexiest guy you ever met? Ever?” 

Hannah shot Sara a dirty look, trying to communicate that she would kill her if she uttered one more word.

“What?”

Walking over, Hannah sat across them below the coffee table, taking two rails up the nose, sniffing hard as the taste hit the back of her throat. 

“I’m so happy for you Han Han…” Sloan turned to Austin, who coughed as she explained, “My cousin has dated some real losers….” 

“That’s not true…” Sara feebly added.

“What happened to Billy from last year?” Sloan asked.

Hannah responded through gritted teeth. “Billy is my very gay, very single, good friend.”

“Oh, well, we were all just glad that psychopath was out of the picture…”

“Psychopath?” Austin murmured. Hannah shot him the look of death, running her hand through her hair, tapping the mirror for Sloan to put more blow out. 

“Eddie.” Sara added, as Hannah formed the powder into more lines, and snorted. “He was the worst, I’m sorry Hannah, but he was.”

Sloan nodded, “Yeah, oh boy… what ever happened to him?”

“His band went on tour with Minor Threat and he cheated on me… what can I say, I seem to attract losers, gays and cheaters.” She raised her eyebrow, looking Austin straight in the eyes, and then stood up.

“So Han Han, still editing The Mickey Mouse Club …?” Sloan swiped more coke out with her finger, smearing it on the inside of her gums.

“I think she’s actually editing all the Disney original TV shows right now, right?” Sara tried to break the awkward silence following Sloan’s condescending tone.

“I think I’m gonna head out, Sara?” Hannah’s voice was curt, Sara nodded, and joined her, a bewildered look as she followed Hannah out to her car. Aunt Elaine never got a family photo that day, and Hannah filled in her friend as they drove to the bar and proceeded to get very, very, very drunk, swearing off men forever.

Forever lasted about five hours.

Hannah left her car in Westwood Village. The second thing she saw after she fell out of her cab, feeling her sheer black stockings rip, badly, as she stared at the pavement laughing at the cruel joke we call life, was a pair of white, leather dress oxfords at the base of white pants. Very similar to the ones Austin had been wearing earlier that day. She heard the cab door close, and an Austin-like voice ask what he owed, before strong hands came under her arm pits and tried to pull her up.

“Fuck off … I’ve got it all unner controllll” she rolled away, laying flat on her back, feet slumped over the curb. Austin walked between her knees, his cool eyes looked down at her.

“I told Sloan about last night.”

Hannah blinked, rolling up on her elbows.

“What? Why would Sloan tell you ’bout last night?”

“You are such an idiot.” Austin sighed, looking up at the stars, laughing to himself and shaking his head as he looked back down at Hannah, drunk, a confused expression hovering above the large Christmas sweater, black tights torn across both thighs, blue mini skirt askew. He mused to himself that it looked like two rats had fought in her hair. The ridiculous spectacle made his cock stir even more, he couldn’t explain why. “Give me your keys, we can talk upstairs.”

Hannah pushed herself up, swatting his hands away, then promptly dropping the keys as they came out of her pocket.

“You gave me bruises, ya know, gonna call you Bruiser…”

“What?” 

“Yeah… s’ its your hips…. Yer too fuckin’ skinny…. I’ve some light bruising on my ass, Ssssara confirmed this for me in the powder room at the skey lub.”

“Ski Club?”

“Klee Clunk”

“Oh, right, the Key Club… oh boy, how many places did you guys hit?”

“Ev’ry place…. And I can’t believe you gave me bruises with your stupid sharp skinny sips…”

“Ok, babe, duly noted.” Austin laughed, shaking his head further, grabbing her keys and sweeping Hannah over him as she started to stumble forward, carrying her up the stairs over his shoulder, getting her cleaning and falling asleep next to her for the second night in a row.

————

January 1988 - July 1989 

It started out casually enough, neither one wanting to ask the other what they were doing, avoiding talking about what this relationship was. In fact, they barely spoke for the first few months, their lips otherwise occupied as they were drawn to each other by the magnetic attraction that only grew in intensity each time they laid eyes on one another. On the first three dates, they couldn’t even get out the door before the graze of an arm over a chest or the kiss of lips saying hello on a cheek would become the catalyst for heaving, sweating, swearing, groaning, primal, squelching, slapping, bruising, choking, senseless, neighbors-banging-on-the ceiling, wall, floor, fucking. Usually followed by a session of panting on the bed, leather chair or kitchen floor, exhausted and conceding that they should just order delivery. And then commanding a repeat performance once their energy returned.

“So…” Austin moaned, in flagrante, after date number two had been derailed by Hannah’s fingers brushing lint off Austin’s sweater.  “Am I really the sexiest man you ever met?”

“Ughhh… shut the fuck up… I was hung over… clearly brain damaged from the alcohol… just be quiet and fuck me, you ugly sod …”

“If I’m so ugly, why’d ughhh… keep me around?”

“Imma a slut for uggos… you’re all so insecure you compensate with that tongue …. *moan*… its the low self esteem….  plus you got me hooked fucking me from behind… didn’t have to see that fucked up mug… ”

Every time Hannah sighed or looked at him with her big doe eyes, his lips would part in awe and his cock would propel him forward, his mouth seeking out her pleasure like a beacon being guided home. Finally they agreed they had to meet in public if they ever wanted to successfully leave her apartment, so he would pick her up at work and take her out, undeterred by her protests that it was too expensive as he arrived at the valet stand in front of Orcini’s, Chinois, The Ivy, her voice raising higher and higher as she argued In-N-Out was just as good.  Austin spent a lot of nights finding new ways to make Hannah’s Murphy bed creak before he found his own place on the Westside, and got settled in a small, modern rental up in the hills.

It was a day in late May, Hannah had just started working on her first feature as an assistant editor, when Austin proposed they stop using condoms. She was sitting on the marble counter of his house, eating chow mien out of the container in a Talking Heads tee-shirt. He was in his briefs. Both exhausted, he’d been shooting his second movie, playing Emilio Estevez’s  younger brother.

“I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else… are you?”

“Well,” Hannah fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, “I’m so busy wrapping this McTiernan picture I really haven’t had time to meet anyone else.”

“Is it any good? I can’t believe they cast Willis, he’s a TV star.”

“I love Moonlighting…”

“Still, is he believable as an action hero?”

“You’re just jealous…. “

Austin took the noodles out of her hand and pulled her into a kiss.

“OK, no more talking about other guys… what do you say? You’re on the pill now, right?”

Hannah nodded.

“OK, I’ll get tested…. You’ll get tested… And voila… ”

She kissed him as he lifted her up, legs wrapping around him while he carried her to the bed room.

Despite her misgivings, Hannah brought Austin out to Malibu for tea at her dad’s trailer. It was a Sunday afternoon, and her heart burst as she watched Austin engage with Avram, not hesitating to talk movies and nodding as her father explained his theories about film school, “waste of time, scholars never make good directors, they’ve got their heads in books,” how Mel Brooks was not funny, “but no one has the balls to tell him the truth.” Austin praised sound editing, particularly dialogue editing, as the most important and unappreciated part of making a movie. And he was particularly gracious every time he tried to tell her father he liked movie he’d worked on.

“Hannah told me you worked on Chinatown, it’s one of my favorite movies…”

“Ughhh, what an awful film,” Avi groaned, frowning, his British accent drew out every vowel. “It had real potential, but Polanksi can’t help himself.”

Hannah stifled her laughter, waggling her eyebrows at Austin as she went to get more biscuits. He jumped up, offering to bring the tea cups in.

“I’ve never met someone with so many strong opinions… about film… and I went to NYU… ”

“My father hates every movie, especially the ones he worked on. I can’t tell you how many times he dragged me out of a movie theatre to walk out of something 30 minutes in.”

“He does know that you and I majored in film, right? When he tells you it is stupid to study film?”

“Yes, he knows that one of us went to the best film school in the country —“

“And the other went to UCLA…” 

“Ha! …. But Austin, my dad started working in this industry when he was 16, a poor Jewish kid from London, he followed his brother and his career to another country, always having to learn on the job. Always having to prove him self, no one to support him. And then everything with my uncle… He is bitter about how the industry is changing, no one ever had to go to film school to break in until the ‘70s…. And in some ways, he’s right, imagine how much more experience we’d have if we hadn’t wasted four years in expensive classrooms…”

Austin introduced Hannah as his girlfriend for the first time at the after party for the Estevez movie premiere. His publicist, Min, was sweet to her face, though she had made Austin promise no public appearances together. He walked the red carpet alone, meeting Hannah inside, where he found Min smiling as Hannah relayed her own editing credits from the year, making a mental note to discuss publicity and relationships with Austin later. 

In their next meeting, Min explained. “You have the potential to be a leading man, Austin, trust me, you do not to be tied down… to an editor? No. Please, trust me, actors are always better dating other actors. Or super models. Or pop stars.”

He brushed it off, explaining it was his private life, and he knew what he was doing. A part of him wondered if being in a committed relationship was wise, fair, good for his career, but those doubts disappeared as he watched Hannah cum on his face the next morning, her dopey smiled sent sparks to stomach, and he pushed up to cover her plush, red lips with his, the taste of her pussy all over his face. Riding her to the hilt and exploding inside of her, Austin shouted “fuckkkk” in rhythm to the sounds of their flesh smacking, filling the empty hillside below his open bedroom window with vulgar noises. That was the day he told her he loved her, pussy drunk, blissed out, nuzzling together in the cosmic afterglow of energetic coitus, endorphins flooding their systems. Austin twisted her hair. 

“Hannah Hannah Bo Bana Banana nana … I think I love you.”

Turning, she kissed the side of his chest, her fingers trailing down his chest.

“I feel it too, Bruiser."

“You should move in.”

“Babe…”

“What? This is the first day we’ve spent together all week. You’re busy. I’m busy. So just move in already. Then at least we can do this everyday.”

But of course, they did not fuck everyday. They didn’t even see each other everyday. Some nights, Hannah would fall asleep on the cutting room floor working for a deadline. Austin had to go to Idaho to shoot a western, and he became close with his co-stars, Robert Downey Jr. and Kiefer Sutherland, returning to LA with a stronger proclivity for nose candy, taking the weeks in-between projects to join his newfound playmates on the club scene. He would call Hannah from the pay phone at whatever bar they went to, asking when she would be there. Telling her he found the perfect alley for their anniversary. Some nights she ventured out, Hannah had always enjoyed feeling music pound through her soul, but she found she didn’t just enjoy getting high every night and she needed the blow to stay up until 4 with them and get to work the next morning. And so, on many nights, Hannah would just collapse at home and wake as Austin came in.

She met his family, briefly, at Christmas 1988. Dinner was small, quiet, just Austin, his father and older sister Ashley in the large dining room of a large, stucco house in Anaheim. Hannah had foregone her usual thick eyeliner and studded black leather jacket, buying an outfit at JC Penneys and wearing her grandmother’s pearl necklace. She hated herself, as she looked in the mirror and asked her self, “Would Nancy Reagan approve?”

She burned the dress in July, as she packed her things and moved out of the Hollywood Hills house. The female voice on the other end of the phone line still reverberated through her head. Austin was shooting on location in Arizona, it was his second leading role.  At first Hannah had questioned whether the hotel operator had connected her to the right room when a women’s voice answered the phone. She paused, thinking carefully.

“Oh, hey, um… is Brian there?”

She could hear the shower running in the background, and then Austin’s distinct voice shout out.

“Don’t answer the phone!”

The mystery women giggled, then spoke into the receiver.

“Sorry, no Brian here, you must have the wrong number.”

“Oh, this isn’t room 335?”

“No, 334… Austin, don’t, you’re all wet!”

“I thought I said not to pick up the phone?”

There it was closer, deeper, in the midst of some sort of exertion, was he tickling her? Kissing her?

Hannah’s mind raced and her imagination ran wild as she listened to a commotion of fabric and limbs while the phone receiver dropped to the floor.

Muffled voices continued.

“It was for the room next door… why don’t you want me to pick up the phone?”

“Shut up, just promise me  -" more feminine giggling as he spoke … “you won’t, ok?”

Hannah hung up after that, adrenaline coursed through her veins, and a sharp, nervous ache ran up her tummy and settled at the top of her chest. Pacing through the living room, through the kitchen, and back again, she started shouting at herself.

“Fucking idiot, fucking actors, fucking Orange County, fucking Reagan, ugh, you fucking stupid cow… you can let this go.” She breathed. “You love him. You knew. This was bound to happen. If you were honest with yourself, you knew. You knew. You knew the minute he told you why he had moved out here. Any real relationship would be impossible. But no, you didn’t care, did you? It was fuuuuun. He was hooot. It felt goooood. Losers, gays and cheaters, Hannah. This is as good as it could ever be. You can push it down, smother it, kill your jealousy and take what he gives you.”

She slumped on the ground, banging her fists into the hard wood floor, seeking out it’s cold to temper the crazy, frenetic heat overtaking her body. Now, she was taking a shower, drinking a beer as the water pummeled down. Three beers later, cold, shivering in the empty bathtub, she had convinced herself to just pretend she didn’t know, act like nothing happened, you love him - that is all that matters. 

But then he called her later that night, whispering “Hey Hannah Banana,” into the phone as he always did, his gravelly confident voice exuding fidelity.  She wondered if this was even the first time, she couldn’t tell the difference. He had the same deep timbre, extolling honeyed devotion from Arizona as he told her about his day and laughed at her sarcastic jokes.

Hanging up, hate overtook her. She played with the idea of throwing his stupid record collection down the hill. Sitting in indecision for five days, she knew she had to make up her mind about what she would do. He was due to come home in a week. At night, she forced herself to picture him fucking someone else, an anonymous mystery woman didn’t seem real enough, so she pictured Sloan, sucking his dick, riding him on top, crying out his name as he devoured her pussy. Hannah was so anxious she could barely eat, subsisting on coffee and digestives for the next few days. Her whole body trembled through a meeting with the director Joel Schumacher,  and Mike, the supervising editor shifting to stare at her periodically and then cornering her to ask if she was ok.

So Hannah made up her mind and started to form a plan. She grieved, chain smoking on the bed, a bottle of vodka in her hand, listening to the mix she had made of The Cure, Depeche Mode, Joy Division, smiling as she stabbed out her cigarettes into the ground, ruining the hard wood floor, thinking of Austin loosing his security deposit. She continued playing stupid on the phone when Austin called, although more and more she let the message machine pick up, feigning a busy work schedule when they talked. She signed the lease on a a little studio in West LA, near Wilshire Boulevard, packed her shit and moved out. She cried as she burned all love notes, valentines, cards, mix tapes and photos of them together in the fireplace before she left. And the dress from Christmas, she would never try to be something she wasn’t for any man. Ever again.

It took Austin two days to notice she had moved out. He arrived home late on a Monday night, assuming Hannah was still at work, he passed out and slept until noon. The past month on location had been a blur. He had wanted Hannah to come with him, and was resentful at her and her career, because they only occasionally had breaks that overlapped. They’d been able to sneak away for a weekend in Cabo, a few days in Vancouver. But it would have been cool to have her keep him company on this shoot. He was busy filming, beginning almost every day at 6 a.m., but the cocaine helped, and he felt like a champion working through the day and going out at night with some of the other actors.  He convinced Bob Downey to come visit him when he had a weekend off,  they drove to the Grand Canyon together, and dropped acid, then missed their paid and scheduled guided tour and ended up laying on the hood of his Beamer gazing at the stars and pondering the meaning of life. 

On his first morning back in LA, Austin got dressed and drove out for meetings with his agent to discuss his the next project, calling home and Hannah’s work no avail trying to reach her. He ate dinner alone at the at Chateau Marmont bar on a whim, drinking a whiskey and talking with the bar tender for a while. He wasn’t famous, yet, not really, and he enjoyed the anonymity, although he nearly jumped out of his skin with joy when Demi Moore recognized him as she entered the restaurant with Bruce Willis. They’d met when she was dating Emilio Estevez, and Austin took the opportunity to gush to Willis about how much he loved Die Hard and how he always thought Willis had action star potential watching Moonlighting. Leaving the Chateau, Austin ended the night with a drive through Hollywood, listening to Genesis and U2 on his tape deck, before growing lonely at home and wondering where Hannah was. He called her work again with no luck, drank a half bottle of whiskey and passed out. It was the next morning, unpacking his suitcases from Arizona, that he noticed Hannah’s side of the closet was empty. Austin frantically walked through the house, opening dresser drawers, looking through the bathroom, checking to see if she had left a note on the fridge or any travel receipts at her desk. His first hope was that she’d gone on a spontaneous trip with friends. Or maybe out to visit her father for a few days. Austin’s heart sank when he saw the empty frames above the mantle, the specks of burnt cards and photos in the fireplace. He wasn’t sure how much she knew, or how she found out, but he punched the wall until his fists bleed, raging at himself for being so stupid, for getting carried away, for screwing around with one of the supporting actresses.

It hadn’t been the first time another actor had flirted with Austin. Indeed, flirting, pranks, late night philosophical discussions, it was all common practice between the crew and the talent, especially on location when the everyone lived at the same hotel. For a month. However, this had been the first time he had given into temptation. Kim was 20 years old, beautiful and carefree, with none of Hannah’s angst or deep insecurities, although he later realized there wasn’t much depth to her personality at all and he got bored. Quickly. In the beginning, it had been freeing and wonderful, even exciting, to explore and get to know a new female body, to end the loneliness he’d been enclosed in over the first week and a half in Arizona. Why did anyone live in the desert anyway? He asked himself as the dry heat hit his face every goddamn day. The way Kim had pursued him was also incredibly flattering. She waited for Austin by his trailer, caught his eye on set while she bite her lip, cornered him at the hotel bar, causing him to smile a mischievous knowing smile every time their eyes locked, to know she wanted him, to feel the power he held over her. It stroked his ego and poured gas onto the fire that would blow up his relationship with Hannah. The sex daze wore off after a week and he realized what a huge mistake he had made. They had nothing in common and it was increasingly annoying how she didn’t get any of his jokes, or slipped into a form of baby talk in bed that grated his nerves, especially when he was hung over. It was worse when Kim began holding his hand on set, probing him about the future, and looking at him impatiently as she talked about going to the premiere together. Like a man, Austin said nothing, and suffered through another ten days of mediocre sex and companionship with Kim before breaking things off the moment shooting concluded.

All of this flashed through Austin’s head as he drove to Hannah’s work, yelling at the receptionist who explained Hannah was not working on anything there, she’d finishing before deadline, and had no idea if Hannah was working somewhere else or coming back in the near future. Swearing under his breath, Austin walked back and forth in the parking lot, squeezing the bridge of his nose, palming his hand through his hair. He considered driving out to Malibu and shaking down Avi, but he couldn’t bare to look Hannah’s father in the eyes, afraid she had shared what had happened, or worse, hadn’t and he would have to explain why he had no idea where his girlfriend was. Racking his brain, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had met several of Hannah’s friends, but didn’t know their phone numbers. It was pure dumb luck that he happened be driving down Wilshire Boulevard in a daze and saw her small, blue Honda hatchback parked down one of the side streets. He immediately recognized the Dukakis 88 bumper sticker in exactly the same place he’d watched Hannah paste it as he teased her relentlessly with promises to cancel out her vote by pulling for Bush. Parking across the street, he sat waiting, unsure of his game plan, but unable to leave. He put the radio on and leaned back. Thrumming the steering wheel, he didn’t see her walk past his car from the apartment building behind him and frown as she recognized his profile. Movement on his periphery startled Austin, and he looked over his shoulder to see Hannah’s beautiful, heart shaped ass running slowly back up the block in low black heels. Springing into action, Austin ran after her, his Nikes and jeans giving him the advantage.

“Hannah! Hannah….” He caught up and blocked the sidewalk, panting deeply. “C’mon Hannah, I made a mistake… one mistake… haven’t you ever made a mistake while you were drunk?”

Crossing her arms, sighing, she resisted the urge slap him.

“Yes. Christmas Eve. 1987.”

Read Chapter Two Here

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added)

@woundmetender​

@powerofelvis​

@aconflagrationofmyown​

#austin butler x OC #austin butler 1980s fic #austin butler smut #austin butler fan fic #christmas smut #banditqueenwrites

[plungermusic]

Do you suffer periodical pain? A doctor speaks …

Navigating the confusing plethora of independent music magazines on the British scene can easily give you an ache in the analogy, so let Dr Plunger MD steer you through the maze as painlessly as possible...

Blurts in Brisbane: Originating from the early 90s obsession with Stratocasters, large hats and Texas as Floorplan it continued (despite the public’s waning interest) into the noughties as Bulls in Burton. After more than a decade, its doughty editor / reviewer / interviewer / tealady / janitor / publisher passed the baton on to subsequent eminence grises who maintained the tenor of ardent amateurism. Notable for its highly democratic structure (basically those who read the magazine also largely wrote it), quibbles over amateurism persisted. Consequently, new management brought in music biz reps, PRs, agents and wannabe artists, to add a sheen of professionalism. So now Vanity Schmanity is written largely by those who appear in it.

Steam Butlers: Arriving on the coattails of the above, Meat Bustlers staked its claim by employing its own unique flourishes: publishing bi-monthly: adopting an A5 format that made it ideal for hanging from a piece of string on the back of the dunny door; and appending the wrong caption to pictures, the wrong pictures to articles or reprinting the same article at various points across the magazine. Recent management changes may have seen Late Bumsters come more into line with the mainstream, but it hasn’t neglected its roots completely: garbled prose, mangled spelling and the laughable misidentification of songs in album reviews remain, to remind the reader of its proud heritage.

“Arrrrrr… what be we called this week?”: With a much wider scope than the above two, the issue of what to call yourself was always going to be a problem, one that was solved by using an ever-changing, apparently random selection of words, letters and even numerals. As well as a fiendishly eclectic range of genres (and an even fiendishlyer eclectic allocation of artist to those genres) “Arrrrrr… 2D2?” also holds the record for the most acts listed on a front page of any publication. In the world.

Classy Crock presents Bandwagon!: A sadly short-lived foray into more niche music genres by a much loved titan of the music mag scene, this bold and ballsy decision to latch onto a captive market of well-off pensioners was scuppered by the financial backroom shenanigans of its  new parent company. Despite its stablemates’ eventual resurrection following an eleventh-hour rescue, Bandwagon was the only fallen runner in the field to be shot on the course and turned into glue and dog food.

Placket Ron Wandbagon: Following the initial demise of Classy Crock, Placket Ron Radio saw the chance to bandwagon Bandwagon by bringing out their own print magazine to fill the gap (or rather make a new gap) in OAP’s wallets. Unfortunately he who hesitates is lost, and delays resulted in Placket Ron announcing Wandbagon’s launch on the very day Classy Crock was reborn, torpedoing the whole shebang below the waterline just as it left the slipway,

Fireguard / Powershower / et al: More recent entrants onto the scene, with the interesting variant on many of the preceding publications in that the common trope of applying a blues filter to anything (even heavy metal) is reversed. Often eye-poppingly printed in yellow type on black backgrounds, Firelighter / Powercut allow their relatively youthful readership to relive the migraine inducing graphics of early gaming and music websites in the days before broadband. An outlier in this field of newbies is The ERBerts, who proudly trumpet the age of their target demographic with quizzes and puzzles you last saw in a copy of Titbits or Woman’s Realm at the dentist.

#musicpress #bluesmusicpress #a doctor speaks #what a waste of trees

[timelesstimesgoneby]

EPISODE SEASON ONE DISC 1 S01E01 SPUR LINE TO SHADY REST S01E02 QUICK, HIDE THE RAILROAD S01E03 THE PRESIDENT WHO CAME TO DINNER S01E04 IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE ROUNDHOUSE? S01E05 THE COURTSHIP OF FLOYD SMOOT S01E06 PLEASE BUY MY VIOLETS S01E07 THE RINGER S01E08 KATE'S RECIPE FOR HOT RHUBARB DISC 2 S01E09 THE LITTLE TRAIN ROBBERY S01E10 BEDLOE STRIKES AGAIN S01E11 UNCLE JOE'S REPLACEMENT S01E12 HONEYMOON HOTEL S01E13 A NIGHT AT THE HOOTERVILLE HILTON S01E14 CANNONBALL CHRISTMAS S01E15 HERBY GETS DRAFTED S01E16 BOBBIE JO AND THE BEATNIK DISC 3 S01E17 MY DAUGHTER, THE DOCTOR S01E18 HOOTERVILLE VS. HOLLY WOOD S01E19 VISIT FROM A BIG STAR S01E20 LAST CHANCE FARM S01E21 THE VERY OLD ANTIQUE S01E22 THE ART GAME S01E23 BETTY JO'S FIRST LOVE S01E24 BEHIND ALL SILVER, THERE'S A CLOUD LINING DISC 4 S01E25 THE TALENT CONTEST S01E26 KATE AND THE MANPOWER PROBLEM S01E27 THE LADY BUGS S01E28 THE HOOTERVILLE FLIVVERBALL S01E29 KATE, THE STOCKHOLDER S01E30 KATE AND THE DOWAGER S01E31 CHARLEY ABANDONS THE CANNONBALL S01E32 DISC 5 S01E33 DOG DAYS AT SHADY REST S01E34 A MILLIONAIRE FOR KATE S01E35 BEDLOE AND SON S01E36 LOCAL GIRL MAKES GOOD S01E37 CAVE WOMAN S01E38 KATE, FLAT ON HER BACK S01E39 THE GENGHIS KEANE STORY SEASON TWO DISC 1 S02E01 BETTY JO'S DOG S02E02 RACE AGAINST THE STORK S02E03 HAVE LIBRARY, WILL TRAVEL S02E04 THE UMQUAW STRIP S02E05 AS HOOTERVILLE GOES S02E06 MY DOG, THE ACTOR S02E07 THE GREAT BUFFALO HUNT DISC 2 S02E08 BETTY JO'S PEN PAL S02E09 BEDLOE'S NIGHTMARE S02E10 KATE'S BACHELOR BUTTER S02E11 MOTHER OF THE BRIDE S02E12 THE LOST PATROL S02E13 SMOKE EATERS S02E14 THE CURSE OF CHESTER W. FARNSWORTH DISC 3 S02E15 THERE'S NO FLAME LIKE AN OLD FLAME S02E16 BILLIE JO'S FIRST JOB S02E17 A MATTER OF COMMUNICATION S02E18 KATE BRADLEY, GIRL VOLUNTEER S02E19 THE HOOTERVILLE CRIME WAVE S02E20 FOR THE BIRDS S02E21 MODERN MERCHANDISING DISC 4 S02E22 A VISIT FROM THE GOVERNOR S02E23 A BORDERLINE STORY S02E24 DERLINE STORY S02E25 THE SHADY REST HOTEL CORPORATION S02E26 A TALE OF TWO DOGS S02E27 THE BLACK BOX S02E28 BEDLOE S MOST FIEND ISH SCHEME S02E29 BEDLOE GETS HIS COMEUPPANCE S02E30 THE MAYOR OF HOOTERVILLE DISC 5 S02E31 WHOS AFRAID OF THE BIG BAD JINX S02E32 THE CHICKEN KILLER S02E33 WHY GIRLS LEAVE HOME S02E34 THERE S NO STOVE LIKE AN OLD STOVE S02E35 THE BRONTOSAURUS CAPER S02E36 THE HAIRBRAINED SCHEME S02E37 THERE S NO BIZ WITH SHOW BIZ SEASON THREE DISC 1 S03E01 DEAR MINERVA S03E02 THE BAFFLING RAFFLE S03E03 THE DOG TURNS PLAYBOY S03E04 THE GOOD LUCK RING S03E05 JOE CARSON, GENERAL CONTRACTOR S03E06 BOBBIE JO'S SORORITY S03E07 A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE DISC 2 S03E08 HOOTERVILLE A GO-GO S03E09 HOOTERVILLE HURRICANE S03E10 BETTY JO GOES TO NEW YORK S03E11 BEDLOE'S SUCCESSOR S03E12 THE CROWDED WEDDING RING S03E13 UNCLE JOE PLAYS POST OFFICE S03E14 WHAT'S A TRAJECTORY? DISC 3 S03E15 THE BUTLER DID IT S03E16 BETTER NEVER THAN LATE S03E17 BETTY JO CATCHES THE BOUQUET S03E18 BILLIE JO'S INDEPENDENCE DAY S03E19 YOGURT, ANYONE? S03E20 ONLY BOY IN THE CLASS S03E21 COUNTY FAIR DISC 4 S03E22 JURY AT THE SHADY REST S03E23 THE INVISIBLE MR. DOBBLE S03E24 IT'S NOT THE PRICINPLE, IT'S THE MONEY S03E25 WAR OF THE HOTELS S03E26 THE WINDFALL S03E27 SECOND HONEYMOON S03E28 KATE SELLS THE HOTEL DISC 5 S03E29 KATE BRADLEY, PEACEMAKER S03E30 WHATEVER HAPPENED TO BETTY JO? S03E31 EVERY BACHELOR SHOULD HAVE A FAMILY S03E32 THE YOUNG MATCHMAKERS S03E33 HOOTERVILLE VALLEY PROJECT S03E34 BETTY JO'S BIKE

#episode guide #episode #tv series #tv series episode #complete series #classic #dvd #petticoat junction

[sideburndanny]

And now, a list of celebrity deaths from this year:

* DMX (rapper)

* Biz Markie (rapper)

* Jackie Mason (comedian)

* Dusty Hill (rock bassist, ZZ Top)

* Thea White (voice actress, Courage the Cowardly Dog)

* Charlie Watts (rock drummer, The Rolling Stones)

* Ed Asner (actor, The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Up)

* Robert Downey Sr. (filmmaker)

* Richard Donner (director, Superman and Lethal Weapon)

* Larry Flynt (publisher, Hustler Magazine)

* Christopher Plummer (actor, The Sound of Music and Knives Out)

* Cloris Leachman (actress, Young Frankenstein and The Mary Tyler Moore Show)

* Larry King (talk show host)

* Siegfried Fischbacher (magician)

* Michael K. Williams (actor, The Wire and Boardwalk Empire)

* Norm MacDonald (actor/comedian, Saturday Night Live)

* Chris Ayres (voice actor, Dragon Ball and Black Butler)

* Derek J. Wyatt (cartoonist, Ben 10)

* Betty White (actress, The Golden Girls)

[confusednarcissistwrites]

Hotsy Totsy PT. 2 (T.C.)

Soooo obviously the posting schedule isn’t all I had planned 😅 I’m just going to start posting as I have them ready for you so I don’t put undue pressure on myself and procrastinate my life away lol

Enjoy!!

Stepping out of the wild club and into the cool of the summer night gave Timothée a dizzying sense of deja vu, sending an ache through his chest. Your name reverberated through his mind like a shout in a cave. His trembling hands reached up and ran through his hair as he fought to gain his bearings.

“Tim? What’s going on?” Nick’s brow was drawn together in concern as he followed his friend out into the alleyway. Timothée had always been a hard person to keep up with as he was very connected to his emotions. It often was stressful, but being so close to someone so eccentric was refreshing to Nick; he’d dealt with far too many fake people in his life.

Timothée’s hands fell, meeting his friend’s eyes. “That’s her, man. That’s the girl. That’s-

“Y/N,” they said in sync.

Suddenly, it clicked. Nick felt stupid for not putting the pieces together sooner. He’d known that you had attended college to study musical theater on your parents wealth and your gifted vocal talents, but he didn’t realize that it was the same college Timothée had attended there in New York; he hadn’t even known of the young actor at the time. There had only ever been murmurings of this girl Timothée had met before he’d been drafted, all of which were prompted by heavy alcohol consumption. He’d known her name was Y/N, but he didn’t ever think that it could be his Y/N. He’d only really known you when you were both small children through family events. A little surprised smile crept onto Nick’s face. “Well, this is perfect then! I can get you in to see her-”

“Are you insane? I can’t see her” Timmy interrupted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He shook his head and anxiety filled his stomach, his arms locked tightly around his torso; there was just no way, not yet at least. He wasn’t prepared for that at all.

“Well, why not? Weren’t you two close?”

Timothée scoffed, turning away from Nick. “I just- I can’t even begin to explain this to you now. I’m going home.”

Nick felt that tug at him a bit. Timothée told him everything, sometimes to a degree that was uncomfortable. However, he continued to refuse to speak about you and what had caused all this tension between you. He stood and watched his best friend’s lanky form disappear around the corner, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

***

The next day, you woke up in your husband’s arms from dreams that made you wish you could sleep all day. Flashes of bouncing brunette curls and honey-pot eyes made you ache to your very soul. However, that was pushed to the back of your mind as James’ blue eyes blinked open, feeling you shift in his arms. “Hello, dollface,” he smiled, his voice rough with sleep and his stick-straight, black hair sticking his way and that, making you laugh softly.

“Good morning, Jamesy,” you smiled. Giggles escaped you as he began pressing tickling kisses along your neck before slipping out of bed and heading into the en suite bathroom in all his naked glory. He was handsome, charming, and a businessman, but now, it suddenly felt like something was missing. Perhaps there always had been. You stood, cursing yourself silently and pushing the corrosive thoughts away once again. You followed after him, slipping into your silky kimono before allowing your hands to snake around his middle while watching him carefully shave his face in the mirror.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he chuckled, feeling you press kisses along his shoulder.

“I just… miss you, sugar” you murmured, pressing your nearly naked body against his. This made it obvious to you when he tensed up, rejecting your touches.

“Sorry, toots, don’t have time to play. I’ve got to meet up with a new girl today.”

You cringed at his words, retracting from him to rest your back against the wall, your robe drawn tight and your arms crossed over your chest.

Seeing your face in the mirror, he quickly rephrased. “A new act, darling, a new act.” You just sighed and left the bathroom, a scowl on your face. He didn’t make it any easier for you to pretend you weren’t still thinking about the night before.

***

Nick hung up the phone and stood, slipping on his jacket.

“Where are you headed? Don’t tell me you’re still out chasing that bearcat, are you?” Timothée questioned, a tired but teasing look on his face. He sat cross legged on the floor with his shirt sleeves cuffed up to his elbows and his hair disheveled as he read over a new script. A hundred fine, luxury options for seating in his home, and yet he chose the rug next to the fireplace every time. Nick had never seen him look quite so aged.

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Mildred? I’m afraid she’s engaged to marry next weekend,” he said in a bittersweet tone.

“Ah,” Tim replied awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it, Nick. You’ll find her soon.”

However, his girl problems were far from the first thing on Nick’s mind. He had just received a call informing him that he was invited to join his cousin for lunch. Before Timothée could ask more questions, he gave him a curt nod and left the room, travelling down the long flight of stairs to the front door. Thoughts swirled in his mind as he hailed their driver. He figured you had seen him with Timothée the night before, and that was what had prompted your call. Perhaps he’d have better luck getting information out of you than he had with Timothée. He hopped into the backseat, relaying the address you’d given him to the driver, trying to put the pieces together.

Meanwhile, you were preparing for his arrival. You wore a simple shift dress with a long string of pearls and wave in your hair as you laid out on the loveseat.

“Why are you having him all the sudden? Hasn’t he lived in the city for awhile now?” Jordan asked, sitting down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Well... because I’m setting you two up, of course!” you replied with a teasing grin, feigning innocence. You weren’t sure if even you knew your true intentions behind having your cousin come to visit, if you were honest with yourself.

On cue, the doorbell sounded.

Nick was greeted by the butler who kindly welcomed him and escorted him into the parlor where you were chatting idly with Jordan. You sat up, peeking at him over the back of the sofa. “Cousin Nicky! Oh, you are so much taller than I remembered you! My goodness, just look at you! You are a real charmer now,” you beamed, making him blush and look at his shoes a bit.

“Oh, stop it, Y/N,” he grinned. You hopped up, hurrying over to him and enveloping him in a tight hug. Something about seeing him eased anxiety pinching in your chest. Nick grinned and hugged you back, relishing how familiar you were to him even after so long.

“Look at me? Look at you! You’re a star, darling,” he flattered, giving you a little spin and making you giggle. Nick felt the warm glow radiating off of you that always lured everyone in, making you so irresistible. However, unlike the others, he could also still see that little girl who had performed loud and proud to all their captive family members at every Sunday brunch. You’d always been a crowd pleaser, often to a fault.

Jordan cleared her throat a bit, reminding you of her presence. “Oh, yes! Nicky, this is my best gal, Jordan,” you said, gesturing to her. She approached Nick, allowing him to take her hand and press a gentle kiss against the back of it. Jordan was tall with an athletic build and an overwhelming aura of confidence. He had short, black hair that framed her sharp facial features, but warm eyes full of mischief. Nick was instantly intrigued and also incredibly intimidated.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled, trying to play nice though it was hardly in her nature.

“The pleasure is mine,” Nick replied coolly, giving her his charming smile.

The afternoon was spent over tea and sandwiches and scones, the three sharing many laughs and stories, becoming acquainted with one another. The girls spoke of show biz while Nick expressed his newfound interest in writing.

However, you were all interrupted by the arrival of the man of the house. You stiffened a bit at first but quickly slipped back into yourself. “Darling, you’re home!” you cooed, hopping up and wrapping yourself around his arm.

James grinned, giving you a little spin, completely opposite of his attitude that morning. “Hello, doll,” he hummed, pulling you to meet his lips.

Nick tried to hide his shock and sipped his tea. He felt silly for thinking she lived in this big house alone, but he really hadn’t even considered a husband being in the picture. He took the man in as he stood to shake his hand; he was average height with a stocky gait and, though he was dressed as a businessman, he was clearly disheveled and smelled of alcohol. Jordan let out a little sigh at his presence before getting up and fixing a cocktail.

Nick struggled not to grimace as James took his hand, giving it a hardy shake. “You must be Nicky, my girl’s cousin. Nice to meet you. James Elliot is the name” he greeted.

“It’s just Nick, actually, but it’s nice to meet you too. I’m afraid I really should be going-“

“Oh don’t be ridiculous! You must stay for dinner,” you interjected, hoping he could sense your underlying tone.

Nick forced a little smile. “Alright, Y/N. I would hate to be a burden.”

The group gathered around the table making idle chat over a chicken dinner. You giggled over James’ every word and spoke as if everything was a shade of rose, nauseating Nick and Jordan who kept matching sideways glances at each other. It was as if you were playing a scripted role. About three quarters of the way through dinner, however, the phone rang from the parlor, silencing you in the middle of your story. Nick sensed tension settle over the table and watched curiously as James hopped up to answer it. He quirked a brow at Jordan, but she simply shrugged and sipped on her wine. You were quiet for the first time that evening, looking down at your food with sickness settling in your stomach. Nick could see that James was smiling into the phone before he hung up and returned to his place at the head of the table.

“Who was calling, James? It seems a bit late,” Jordan questioned.

“Oh, just business,” he replied nonchalantly.

The phone began to ring again.

You audibly sighed, giving James a look. Every night, it was the same game; only this was even more humiliating with your cousin there. You never asked because you didn’t want to know. Maybe because you already did. He placed a warning hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he brushed by to go answer the phone for the second time, making your hands shake.

As James left again, you stood, deciding you’d had enough. You stepped out onto the patio attached to the dining room and fought to breathe. The anxiety attacks had come for about as long as you could remember, but they’d recently evolved into near episodes. Your knuckles were white around the railing as you stared across the bay through tear-fogged eyes, trying to get a grip. You barely registered the sound of Nick stepping out onto the balcony with you.

“Y/N, are you alright? What’s wrong, darling?” He couldn’t help but feel protective over you despite all the time you’d spent away from each other.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, trying to focus enough to speak. “I think everything is pretty terrible, Nicky.”

He took your hand in his, his back against the railing as he faced you with pleading eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“I have everything. I found everything I wanted in life, but it’s never enough.” You continued to stare blankly out at the water. “I fight every day to stay ignorant, to be a beautiful fool. That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world.”

Nick watched you sadly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Never could he have imagined the girl he’d seen on the stage the night before coming home to be the wilted flower before him. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you into a hug. You relented, feeling some of the tension release from your chest as you exhaled against his shoulder. Nick was just as safe as you’d remembered.

***

After a few awkward, tension-filled goodbyes, Nick and Jordan were escorted out to their drivers.

“It was nice to meet you,” Nick said, trying to be polite despite the obvious discomfort the evening had brought.

“He’s sneaking around with girls from the club,” she said bluntly, stopping Nick in his tracks.

He stared at her dumbly, trying to understand.

“I thought everyone knew,” she sighed, kicking at the gravel. “You know he owns the speakeasy, don't you? He’s sneaking around on Y/N, but she won't confront him because she’s afraid he won’t let her keep performing. He’s given her everything she has here.”

Suddenly, everything you had said on the balcony made sense. Nick ran his hand over his face, still speechless. “I-I just.. wow, um-“

“Yeah.” Jordan was your only confidant through everything that had been going on, and though she carried the weight like a champ, she did ache for you. The only reason she didn’t take things into her own hands was for your sake. “Well, Nick. I’ll see you around,” she said finally, giving him a sad smile before climbing into her cab. Nick did the same, feeling about a thousand pounds heavier than when he had arrived. It wasn’t until then that he remembered his mourning roommate back home. How was he going to relay all of this to him? Letting out a sigh, he laid his head back against the headrest, watching all the people and twinkling buildings pass by outside his window. Perhaps it could all just wait until tomorrow.

When he finally made it back to the mansion, Nick dragged himself up the stoop and inside. As he made his way up the staircase on his way to his room, he spotted Timothée in the same place he’d left him. He was gazing into the fire now with his script abandoned beside him.

“Aye, Tim. What are you still doing up?” Nick asked, leaning around the doorframe. Tim jolted and groaned, rubbing his eyes, clearly startled by his roommate’s return. Nick made his way upstairs toward his room, ready to be out of his suit and not yet ready to tell Timothée where he really had been and what he had learned while he was there.

Timmy held his head in his hands, his elbows propped against his knees. He’d spent the whole night concocting ideas of how he could see you without actually having to see you. All this along with feeling sorry for himself, of course. He’d imagined seeing you again for the past five years and yet, now that it was actually right before him, he had no idea what to do. He stood up with a heavy sigh, anger building internally with himself. Sipping down what was left of his whiskey, he resolved what he had to do.

Long legs carried him swiftly to Nick’s bedroom door where he knocked softly before opening it.

Nick raised a brow, in the process of getting changed. “What is it?” he questioned, seeing the slightly wild look in Timothée’s tired eyes.

“I need you to do me a really big favor.”

TAGLIST: @londonmademedoit @cathyoliveros10

#timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet fluff #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet series #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet series #1920s #hotsy totsy #confusednarcissistwrites

[emmagoldman42]

Indigenous people organizing for their human rights followed by ICE raids on them 🤔

Repost:

“I've been doing a bit of research on the companies that were raided this past week in MS. All six chicken processing companies have wealthy white owners, none of who have (yet) been charged criminally for knowingly hiring undocumented workers (and they did know, because all participate in the E-Verify program).

Here's some information about the largest company and the worst offender: Koch Foods, Inc. (no relation to the Koch brothers).

The CEO and president is Joseph C. Grendys, a 58 year old white man worth $3.3B.

Koch processes more than 50 million pounds of ready-to-cook chicken per week, slaughtering 12 million chickens per week. Koch Foods, Inc. processes Wal-Mart's "Great Value" buffalo wings, chicken strips, chicken tenders and popcorn chicken, Burger King's chicken nuggets and other private-label brands at grocery stores, such as Kroger and Aldi (Archer Farms). https://www.chicagotribune.com/business/ct-confidential-chicken-billionaire-1026-biz-20141024-column.html

Koch Foods, Inc. was raided under the Bush administration in 2007 for knowingly hiring undocumented workers, and they had to pay a fine of $536K in 2010: https://www.reuters.com/article/us-immigration-koch-idUSN2825845020070828

Apparently that fine wasn't enough of a deterrent for them, because they continued to hire undocumented workers. Why? Grendys' comment in the above-linked Chicago Tribune article explains the practice: maintaining a good labor force is very difficult and employee turnover is high.

They have also been targets of numerous allegations of egregious workplace conditions where Hispanic workers, particularly those without documentation were subjected to hostile and unsafe work conditions. Some of the proven allegations include denying workers bathroom breaks, sexually harassing and assaulting the female Hispanic workers, and harassing employees who attempted to unionize, including firing them and/or threatening them with ICE referrals.

One worker complained: "What I didn't like is they would yell at us and tell us we're good for nothing and we didn't know how to work, and sometimes they wouldn't even let us leave to go home when we were sick,"

https://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/06/us/union-organizers-at-poultry-plants-in-south-find-newly-sympathetic-ears.html

The work is grueling enough, but Koch Foods supervisors required workers to "chop" the chickens at a rate of 42-chickens-a-minute. "That pace means that many workers make 18,000 cuts during their eight-hour shifts as they prepare breasts, wings, tenders and cutlets for restaurants and consumers. If they couldn't keep up, or got injured, they were fired."

Also, the EEOC found on several occasions that the workplace conditions were dangerous and violated numerous safety laws. This resulted in injuries such as amputations and even death.

https://news.bloombergenvironment.com/safety/koch-foods-cited-for-amputation-hazards-at-georgia-plant http://src.bna.com/vWr

https://www.osha.gov/news/newsreleases/region4/01252018

Koch Foods, Inc. even had to pay one employee $1.9M for unsafe working conditions that led to the amputation of several fingers: https://www.wattagnet.com/articles/32273-jury-rules-against-koch-foods-in-injured-worker-case

Here's one of the most egregious things Koch Foods, Inc. did. They not only knowingly hired undocumented workers (recruiting many from Texas border towns), they used their undocumented status to control and exploit them. A federal criminal investigation found that supervisors would often falsely tell undocumented workers that they'd received a "no-match" letter indicating a problem with their social security number, and for $700 the company could get them a new SSN.

And yet, it's not the company that gets charged criminally, it's the poor and vulnerable (and recruited!) undocumented workers: https://www.journal-news.com/news/sheriff-jones-encouraged-them-the-raids-butler-county/aGsNHxQCJQVJmnK522l0iL/#

These workers made about $7.80 an hour, but if they worked in a darkened room where thousands of live chickens poured down a chute where workers grabbed them and killed them, and then hung them on a hook (about 40 per minute), they got $1 more per hour. If they worked in the "chopping" room, they got 50 cents more per hour.

Now, here's the suspicious part. In 2015 workers started organizing a union and Koch Foods, Inc. did everything they could (including outright harassment and firing organizing employees) to stop the action: http://ufcw75.org/2015/02/12/illegally-fired-workers-win-settlement-from-koch-foods/

And in 2016, the EEOC filed a lawsuit against Koch for paying all Hispanic females significantly less than males, while giving them more work, and then firing them for complaining: https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc/newsroom/release/9-30-19c.cfm

But in 2018, Koch lost a huge EEOC case for the overt sexual harassment of Hispanic female workers (mostly undocumented). This amounted to sexual harassment and assault as male supervisors felt free to grope and verbally harass the most vulnerable workers in the plant: https://www.eeoc.gov/eeoc/newsroom/release/8-1-18b.cfm

Are you suspicious that the targeted raid was planned apparently right after they lost this large EEOC complaint? Me too.

Also, in case you're wondering, Koch Foods, Inc. doesn't just discriminate against Hispanic workers, the company discriminates against black farmers as well: https://www.propublica.org/article/how-a-top-chicken-company-cut-off-black-farmers-one-by-one#

They abuse the chickens too: https://www.chicagotribune.com/business/ct-mercy-for-animals-chickens-1120-biz-20141119-story.html

https://chicago.cbslocal.com/2014/11/19/animal-rights-group-claims-abuse-by-koch-foods-chick-fil-a/

And these seven companies aren't the only ones engaged in the practice of recruiting undocumented workers (because they are an easily manipulated and stable workforce). In 2001 Tyson Chicken executives were charged for recruiting undocumented workers from Mexico, and then providing them with fake identification (the workers thought their IDs were real, and were later charged criminally for having false identification papers.)

Despite clear-cut evidence, the case was dismissed in 2003, and no company has been criminally charged since (apparently it's bad for U.S. business).

https://www.nytimes.com/2001/12/20/us/tyson-foods-indicted-in-plan-to-smuggle-illegal-workers.html

It was later discovered Tyson executives paid bribes to government officials, prior to the charges being dropped. In response to the bribery the DOJ fined the company $5.2 million, but did not bring criminal charges.

https://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/11/business/11tyson.html

Apparently Tyson execs didn't learn their lesson either, because they were back at it in 2010!:

https://www.justice.gov/sites/default/files/criminal-fraud/legacy/2013/05/06/02-10-11tyson_foods_dpa.pdf

This is nothing more than slavery. The more vulnerable and desperate the worker, the better. Recruit undocumented workers, give them fake identification, work them to the point of grave injury or death, and then cry "America First!" and fire them if they complain. Then INS/ICE can come in screaming "we're a land of laws!" and charge the undocumented workers with violating U.S. immigration laws, while letting the companies slide (better for the economy, right?). The companies can then start all over with a new crop of scared and vulnerable workers, and the problem of unionization and demands for better workplace conditions is gone..

But hey, I hope everyone (especially the anti-immigration folks out there) enjoys their cheap chicken wings..."

https://truthout.org/video/mississippi-ice-raids-targeted-workers-who-fought-for-better-conditions/

#abolish ice #abolish borders #animal abuse #factory farming #vegan #vegetarian #chicken love #chicken life

[newyorktheater]

   Beetlejuicethe Broadway musical differs in crucial ways from Tim Burton’s 1988 comic horror movie, as the character Beetlejuice himself (portrayed by Alex Brightman) makes clear from his first appearance on stage.

The musical begins with the funeral for Lydia’s mother, with the teenage Lydia (Sophia Anne Caruso) singing movingly of her loss.

Suddenly, there’s Beetlejuice perched on the coffin

“Holy crap! A ballad already?” he exclaims, shattering the melancholy mood. “And such a bold departure from the original source material.”

If you remember the movie (and I didn’t; I watched it again this week on Amazon), Beetlejuice doesn’t appear until about the half-way mark, and his high octane obnoxiousness and show biz wisecracking are delivered in memorable but limited doses. The musical’s Beetlejuice, hyper and foul-mouthed, takes center stage nearly from the get-go, and without letup. Most to the point, the demon sets the turbo-charged pace and loud tone for the entire proceedings. I’d say this was a fatal mistake, but in a musical comedy about death and the netherworld, that might sound like a good thing.

Still, if you can tolerate the bombardment, and don’t mind sappy scenes mixed in with the comically macabre plot, Beetlejuice the musical does have its pleasures – principally a few standout performances and especially the vivid visuals.

The  story in outline is more or less the same as in the movie. Young couple Adam Maitland (Rob McClure) and his wife Barbara (Kerry Butler)  die by falling through a hole in their living room. Lydia’s father Charles  (Adam Dannheisser) moves in with his family.  Adam and Barbara don’t want them in their house, and Beetlejuice tries to scare them away, but it backfires. Lydia, wearing black and in mourning for her mother, makes a connection with the deceased couple. Beetlejuice would like to make a connection with Lydia…by marrying her.

Alex Brightman, who scored big as the original star of School of Rock, makes the most of the meta theatrical wisecracking in “Beetlejuice”; does what he can with Beetlejuice’s crude jokes; wears out his welcome (through no fault of his own) with the character’s extended hyper-adrenalized antics.  But the musical’s “departure from the original source material” helps create showcases for a couple of the other cast members.  Leslie Kritzer portrays Delia, whom Charles hired to be Lydia’s life coach, and is secretly having an affair with Charles. Kritzer makes comic hay from quoting her conman guru Otho (Kevin Moon Loh), e.g.: “Sadness is like kale salad. No one likes it. Throw it out.”

Sophia Anne Caruso, 17, who has wowed New York theatergoers for years with her startling talent and uncomfortable precocity in such shows as The Netherand Lazarus,  has a show-stopping number early in Beetlejuice, “Dead Mom.”  Despite the cheeky tone of that song, the musical allows her to mourn, which makes her character less of a cartoon. But then Lydia tries to enter the Netherworld to retrieve her loved one – a plot served to much better effect by another new Broadway musical, Hadestown, especially musically.

Indeed, few of the songs by Eddie Perfect are anything more than serviceable in Beetlejuice, though the lyrics can be clever and funny. They can also be puerile and profane.

The book, too, by (former New York Magazine drama critic) Scott Brown and Anthony King, feels at odds with itself. At the end of “Beetlejuice,” there is a sentimental family reconciliation and also a crass, loud game show parody – reflecting the two contrasting, and conflicting, tones of the show. I suppose mentioning these could be considered spoiler, if they weren’t both so overdone and predictable.

Yet, one aspect of “Beetlejuice” does stand out — its design. This makes sense. The movie won its sole Academy Award for best makeup. Five of the seven Drama Desk Award nominationsthat Beetlejuice the musical received this afternoon were for its design, as were three of the four Outer Critics Circle Award nominations.(Both also nominated Leslie Kritzer.)

Set designer David Korins (Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen) gives a Tim Burton vibe to the show, not just from Beetlejuice but from other movies Burton directed, including The Nightmare Before Christmas and Edward Scissorhands, as he offers three different versions of the Victorian house — first one being restored by the Maitlands, preservationists at heart; then the tasteless redo by Charles and Lydia, and finally the ghoulish abode inhabited by, well, ghouls, once Beetlejuice takes over.   Puppet designer Mark Curry (Frozen, Young Frankenstein) brings some of the monsters from the movie to life, most effectively the giant sandworm, and creates some of his own. Jeremy Chernick and Michael Weber create the special effects, like burning hands and levitation. Costume designer William Ivey Long and projection designer Peter Nigrini do their usual spot-on spectacular jobs. As a result, when Beetlejuice suddenly replicates into a chorus line of clones, you don’t cringe, you revel in all those stripes.

  Beetlejuice. Winter Garden Theater Directed by Alex Timbers, Score by Eddie Perfect, book by Scott Brown & Anthony King, music supervision, orchestrations and incidental music by Kris Kukul, choreography by Connor Gallagher. Scenic design by David Korins, costume design by William Ivey Long, lighting design by Kenneth Posner, sound design by Peter Hylenski, projection design by Peter Nigrini, puppet design by Michael Curry, special effects design by Jeremy Chernick, illusions by Michael Weber, hair & wig design by Charles G. LaPointe, make-up design by Joe Dulude. Cast: Alex Brightman, Sophia Anne Caruso, Kerry Butler, Rob McClure, Adam Dannheisser, and Leslie Kritzer, with Jill Abramovitz, Kelvin Moon Loh, Danny Rutigliano, and Dana Steingold, Tessa Alves, Gilbert L. Bailey II, Will Blum, Johnny Brantley III, Ryan Breslin, Natalie Charle Ellis, Brooke Engen, Abe Goldfarb, Eric Anthony Johnson, Elliott Mattox, Mateo Melendez, Sean Montgomery, Ramone Owens, Presley Ryan and Kim Sava. Running time: Two hours and 30 minutes, including one intermission Tickets: $69 – $300

Beetlejuice Review: A Broadway Musical From Tim Burton’s Comic Macabre Movie  Beetlejuicethe Broadway musical differs in crucial ways from Tim Burton’s 1988 comic horror movie, as the character Beetlejuice himself (portrayed by Alex Brightman) makes clear from his first appearance on stage.

[hornyliverpudlianputz]

Long-haired weirdos on American TV

Buckle up kiddos; here we fucking go. Alright. In The Monkee fandom this is something we hear a lot about. “The Monkees” was so groundbreaking! It brought rock-n-roll music into America’s living room! It made the counter-culture acceptable! They were the first show to not have an authority figure! They were the first show to present long-haired young musicians as the good guys! And so on and so forth, ad nauseum. We hear this so much, I think it starts to lose its impact, not to mention the fact that for those of us who are not first gen fans (increasingly the majority of us) we lack the cultural context to understand just how significant this show actually was. So without further ado, here are some points to consider.

First, the hair. Looking back now, it seems laughable that in season 1 these guys: x

were considered to have “long hair”. But you have to understand. In the 40s, the US went to war. WWII was a “popular” war, which meant that if you were male you either were a soldier or you idolized soldiers. No homo. But as a result of this trend, military haircuts became popular. That meant short, practical hairstyles with clean-shaven faces. x

In the 50s, the US went back to war in Korea, and again in Vietnam which bled into the 60s. By that time, even though the US was not technically “at war” with anyone, the “young generation” was getting more and more fed up with being sent to fight and die for a cause they didn’t fully understand and were less and less sure they believed in. But in the early and mid 60s, soldiers and veterans were still heroes to the general public. So the growing opposition in the youth became a counter-culture movement, beginning as the beat generation and growing into the hippies.

These people rebelled against everything “mainstream”; they had sex before marriage, they had interracial sex, they had gay sex, they experimented with drugs, they bent gender lines, they wrote about all of the above and published it, they grew beards, and, wonder of wonders, they didn’t crop their hair. 

So in the mid-60s, as a man, if you didn’t keep your hair short, it was public declaration that you rejected the values that America considered to be basic decency. If you let your hair grow, you were labeling yourself a deviant. That line that’s used a few times in the show? About men with long hair not being allowed into Disneyland? That wasn’t a joke, that actually happened.

And more than that, wearing your hair “long” as a man blurred the strict gender divide at the time. We see this a number of times in the show both scripted and not. In one of the post show interviews Davy tells a story about how he was mistaken for a woman on a trip to see his family, both by a fellow passenger and his sister. In another interview Davy is asked about being harassed for his hair. In “Monkees on Tour” Peter compare’s the length of his horse’s mane to his own hair and sarcastically asks if the horse is a “boy or girl”. In “Monkees Mind Their Manor” the man who comes to bring Davy to England mistakes Micky for a girl, and is nearly stabbed with a drumstick for his trouble. The butler in “The Christmas Show” tells the band they were expecting “four gentlemen” when they arrive. (Mike asks if they will accept four ladies who shave. They do.) And the only difference Mr. Babbitt seems to see between Mrs. Arcadian and Micky in “The Chaperone” is hair color.

Now we come to the music, if the hair wasn’t bad enough. Rock-n-roll became a hit the 50s with artists like Elvis and Buddy Holly. (I should point out, among white audiences. Classic rock, like many other popular music genres such as ragtime, jazz, and hip hop, began among black communities first before spreading elsewhere.) 

Rock in the late 50s scandalized older generations. The rhythms were more staccato and less “refined” than the crooners they were used to. Classical instruments like brass or strings were set aside in favor of drums, guitars/basses, and small percussion instruments instead. Performers danced in jerky, abrupt movements on stage while singing, and Elvis in particular made headlines by thrusting his hips which brought sex to the forefront. The name itself, rock-n-roll, derived from a slang term for “the deed” which, disappointingly, makes “sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll” redundant. Adults railed against this new type of music, calling it deviant and unclean. Young people, on the other hand, loved it. 

And this was a bit of a gray area. As I’ll get into later, the idea of “young adults” or teenagers was only just beginning to become a concept. There were two kinds of people in the world, children and adults. And adults wielded absolute authority over children. So no one really knew what to do with the people old enough to chafe against authority but young enough to not be respected as one. 

But the adults couldn’t deny that fact that rock music was extremely popular with young people. Chubby Checker, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Elvis, The Beatles, and the list was only growing. As a result, this “rock fad” became an in-joke, something for those in power to mock. Look at any popular sitcom in the 60s and I guarantee it has a “rock band” episode that depicts a Beatles-esque band with their bangs in their eyes playing a sham parody of “music” while wildly and completely un-rhythmically “dancing”. 

In “F-Troop” it’s “That’s Show Biz”. In “Gilligan’s Island” it’s “Don’t Bug the Mosquitoes”. In “The Dick Van Dyke Show” it’s “The Redcoats are Coming”. Such groups were always met with confusion and derision, and usually shrugged off in the end as “well whatever, but it’s not ‘Real Music’”. These bands were put in as commentary on current, real-life counterparts (mostly The Beatles) and they were meant to be laughed at. x

In the show the boys are often met with derision or outright animosity in regards to their music. The pilot, “Here Come The Monkees”, has a father reluctant to let them play at a country club, and even breaks down crying that he’s “sold out” (to rock culture) when the boys go on at the end. In “Monkees at the Circus” the circus performers are angry in general at what they see as no talent entertainers taking away their lively hoods. And we see how well-received the boys are by the “style gurus” in “Monkees a la Mode”.

Now let’s see, so far we have hairstyles that label you as “deviant” and a music genre that does the same thing. What else could we possibly throw in? Ah yes. Let’s take away all adult authority figures! As I mentioned before, young people in the 60s were just starting to have a voice of their own. The world was divided into adults and children, and adults ruled with an iron fist. Children needed to be guided, taught, and above all else controlled lest they stray into poor decisions. And adults were the only ones who could possibly tell “right” from “wrong”.

But on “The Monkees” there was no authority. The boys were their own moral compass, though Mike came pretty close to acting as the “dad” most of the time. In fact most of the adults on the show are either villains or someone who need the boys’ help. And make no mistake, despite all of them being in their early 20s Peter, Mike, Micky, and Davy were playing boys. They are almost universally referred to as such by every adult figure in the show, and make several comments themselves about being “too young to get married” or the like. Their characters were most likely not meant to be older than 17 or 18. (I think one of them has a line somewhere about being 16 but I can’t pin it down.) x

And all of this is not even mentioning the fact that, besides being “musicians”, the guys are unemployed! Between gigs and odd jobs, they’re “bums” who can’t “get a real job” which was, and still is, Not A Good Thing. But ultimately their career choice is treated as a serious one in the show. Their music is never a joke, and a number of times they use it to help people.

So. Long story short. “The Monkees” took a staunchly counter-culture style, a “deviant” music genre, thumbed their noses at authority, combined it all together and mixed well with a type of sharp, witty comedy that would have gotten nasty looks at the country club. Then they took aim at teens and tweens across the country and struck gold.  Turns out the young generation did have something of substance to say after all.

#the monkees #rant #analysis #long-ass post #my gif

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #191: Back to the Stone Age!

January, 1980

OH HEY WE’VE HIT ‘80s!

It took one-hundred and ninety issues plus annuals and crossovers but we’ve arrived. And now ten more years of comics (including West Coast Avengers, oy) and I’ll hit the terrifying 90s.

And what better way to ring in the 80s than have the Avengers fight a dude made of stone. No, not the Thing. No, not the Statue Black Knight. No, not Korg. No, not Geodude. No, not Tanuki suit Mario.

Grey Gargoyle.

C’mon. He’s right on the cover. There’s text that says his name right above him.

Last time: The Avengers had a senatorial hearing to decide whether the government would withdraw their special priority status again. Because Gyrich was pissed that Scarlet Witch wanted to take more vacation instead of coming back to the team.

But they had to reschedule because a giant stone monster was rampaging and Beast offered to let Gyrich handle it but he didn’t want to for some reason.

Through some truly impressive teamwork and combos, the Avengers beat the rock monster into gravel, guest star Deadpool warning only too late that there was something lurking under said gravel.

So Iron Man and Daredevil got turned to stone and the Grey Gargoyle promised he would destroy the Avengers.

And then he just pops Falcon right in the face.

Yer a dick, Grey Gargolyle.

Vision jumps to Falcon’s defense and THRAMs Grey Gargoyle stating that since Thor has soloed Grey Gargoyle before, it shouldn’t be a thing for the assembled Avengers to beat him.

This is a valid theory and if the Avengers showed the teamwork they showed last time it would probably be correct.

Hell. Vision could solo this guy. He’s beaten a rock man before by letting him punch himself to death on Vision’s diamond hard abs.

He doesn’t get the chance for some weird reason (and Grey Gargoyle has some methods at his disposal that Statue Knight didn’t so...).

Grey Gargoyle punches him across the synthezoid face sending him flying into a building. Literally into a building. He apparently went intangible just before impact and just before passing out so he’s just sticking out of a wall, untouchable and unconscious.

Apparently when Ultron was having Vision built, he had him built with a glass jaw.

Scarlet Witch runs to check on Vision because these two crazy kids are constantly worrying about each other in battle and Grey Gargoyle takes the opportunity to punch her in the back of the head, knocking her out.

There’s a distinct lack of teamwork going on here...

Beast and Cap were too far off to watch Wanda’s back. But after she’s already been clobbered, Beast jumps on Grey Gargoyle’s and starts punching him in the head. And also criticizing how he treats women.

Beast: “First the Absorbing Man trashes Ms. Marvel, and now you deck the Scarlet Witch! Don’t you bad guys have any sense of chivalry at all?”

Grey Gargoyle: “Not really.”

Beast: “So I see!”

Kind of a weird thing to take issue with. I don’t like that Gargoyle punched Wanda in the back of the head but the other thing Beast cites, Ms. Marvel getting beaten up in the fight against Absorbing Man... Ms. Marvel can take a punch a hell of a lot better than you can, Beast. And she’s in the biz of punching people to get them to stop doing the crimes. Getting punched back is going to happen.

During this exchange Grey Gargoyle flings Beast at Cap. And while the heroes lay in yon heap, Grey Gargoyle reveals his ability to turn anything to stone for an hour by touching it with his right palm.

He uses this on an awning. So it collapses under its own weight and buries Cap, Beast, and Wasp in shards of rock.

Speaking of Ms. Marvel, she’s the last standing Avenger. I don’t know what she was going this whole time (teamwork real bad for some reason) but she comes up behind Grey Gargoyle, grabs him and throws him against a building.

This seemingly knocks him out but when she goes to investigate, he kicks her in the head, knocking her out.

I coulda sworn she’s taken a lot more damage before so her durability here isn’t really ringing true.

That’s one of the annoying things about team comics like the Avengers. When the plot requires someone to solo them, they go down super easily even when it doesn’t make any damn sense.

Anyway, even though the Avengers are all at his mercy and he said he would kill them, Grey Gargoyle suddenly changes his mind now that it would be super easy to kill them.

Grey Gargoyle: “I could kill you now, all of you, but why bother? There will be plenty of time for that later... when I’ve less pressing matters to attend to... or perhaps, when I become bored.”

I guess villains tenderly gripping the villain ball must go hand in hand with the heroes getting easily soloed. There wouldn’t be an Avengers if the villains actually killed them after they were easily defeated.

MEANWHILE AT THE MANSION OF AVENGE

Jarvis is cooking a hearty goulash for the Avengers when they get back from their hearing because dammit he’s a good butler and all that legal drama might make them hungry!

But then he hears a tapping and a pak-ing on the window door. Only Redwing and nothing more.

Falcon’s pet falcon is desperate to get out so Jarvis opens the window. AND NYOOM that to-be-a-vampire-in-the-future bird can book.

Meanwhile, back at the scene of the Avengers’ latest embarrassing stomp.

Ms. Marvel is the first to shake off the one blow that seemed to be enough to completely knock her out for some reason.

Wanda is up not long after.

And... wow, geez. Wasp blasts her way from under the pile of rubble and drags Beast out from under it. While tiny sized.

Um, good hustle, the Wasp?

Cap is also okay, having gotten his shield between him and the rocks fall nobody died. Weirdly it seems there was a layer of rock between him and Beast when they were sprawled on top of each other before Grey Gargoyle brought the awning down.

Wanda is concerned about Vision though. He’s still unconscious and if he is badly hurt, they can’t even help him because he’s intangible!

And then Vision sits up, perfectly fine.

Vision: “My systems shut-down was merely temporary -- and undeserving of your rather dramatic reaction. You have acted strangely ever since your return from Attilan, my wife. Something troubles you. We must talk.”

I hope we’re not back to the point where Vision would deride Wanda for being concerned about him BECAUSE EMOTIONLESS ROBOT.

But they really should have that important relationship talk.

Which maybe they do off-screen while Beast and Cap go to check on Iron Man and Daredevil.

Yup. They’re stone.

But its like they can still hear Iron Man’s voice on the wind.

Oh wait, they can.

In a kind of cool moment that probably makes total sense if you don’t think about it too much, the man inside the armor is perfectly fine (give or take an aggravating itch on his nose). The Grey Gargoyle’s touch turned the armor to stone but left the gooey center alone.

And as the Avengers leader, Stone Man is ordering them to not worry about him and Daredevil. Track down the Grey Gargoyle before he does anymore harm. And prey that no pigeons find Daredevil and Iron Man before the stoning effect wears off.

Which solves the dilemma of what to do with their stoned buddies really. Good call, Stone Man.

Also the reason why you shouldn’t think too hard about Grey Gargoyle’s stone effect is because then you might start wondering. If the Iron Man armor was turned to stone but Tony left squishy, does that mean that Daredevil’s insides are as blood and organs as before and only his skin has been made stone?

DON’T THINK ABOUT IT.

Also, at this point, Beast notices that Falcon is missing.

Beast notices this. Cap was apparently oblivious.

Way to be conscious of your best friend and partner, STEVE. He’s only here as a favor to you!

But where is the Falcon? I guess as the first one rock punched, he was also the fastest to recover and has been secretly trailing the Grey Gargoyle as he has rooftop hopped across Manhattan.

Grey Gargoyle finally reaches his destination. The apartment he rented under his human identity when he started operating in New York months ago and--

So remember how this whole thing started when Grey Gargoyle in his rock monster spacesuit fell from space?

It turns out that when you disappear (into space), your landlord tends to rent your apartment to other people.

And in this specific case, Grey Gargoyle’s secret lair is now the home of Margot Neil.

“She considers it her sanctuary against the concrete and combat of inner city living.” Emphasis mine.

So obviously a giant stone man is going to OH YEAH through her window.

What did she expect, setting up dramatic irony like that?

Margot runs for the door, yelling that when muggers dress up as pet rocks and crash through twelfth story windows, moving to Montana starts looking good.

But Grey Gargoyle jumps over her (geez, he can book for a guy literally made of stone) and turns her door into stone, rending it unusable as an aperture.

And now that he has a captive audience, Grey Gargoyle does whatever any self-respecting villain does upon gaining a captive audience.

Exposits about his backstory.

SEE HE USED TO BE A BRILLIANT SCIENTIST

But not so brilliant that he didn’t accidentally spill chemicals on himself like a stupid asshole.

And since he was a comic book brilliant scientist, obviously he has superpowers now. Anything he touches with his chemically contaminated right hand would turn to stone for an hour.

And since his body absorbed these chemicals, he could also touch himself to suddenly become as hard as rock.

Easy joke. Sorry.

But that’s why he’s a rock man. He turned himself into rock but because of his exposure to chemicals, he could still move even as a rock man.

And then like most scientists who practiced insufficient lab safety and got powers as a result, decided to become a supervillain.

So he decided to fight Thor to steal his hammer under the assumption that Mjolnir would make him immortal. This is an assumption that everyone keeps making for some reason.

But then Grey Gargoyle realized that the magic was inside him all along. For all practical purposes he IS immortal! He can survive prolonged periods underwater and even in space.

That’s where he was assumed dead, by the way.

A rocket carrying him to Earth in Thor #259 exploded. Luckily for him, he managed to cover himself in cosmic particles and wreckage that he turned to stone and which for some reason didn’t turn back after an hour.

And thats where the rock monster spacesuit came from. The Avengers were kind enough to punch him loose from that.

ANYWAY

Its been fun chatting but now he’s going to use the chemicals he hid in a secret compartment behind a mirror to become even stronger.

Why have his chemicals been replaced with bourbon and dom perignon??

Well. The secret compartment wasn’t so secret. Margot found it when she moved in and figured she’d throw out the smelly chemicals so she could have the classiest liquor cabinet.

I like you, Margot.

Grey Gargoyle is distinctly less fond though.

Grey Gargoyle: “Why, you dimwitted witch! I’ll crush your silly head into jelly!”

Thankfully this is when Falcon chooses to show up and tell Grey Gargoyle to take it ease.

Grey Gargoyle wastes no time being surprised and throws a suddenly stone bowl of candy at Falcon and then tries to him with with an entire stone couch.

Falcon grabs the couch mourning Margot and leaps out of the way of the SKABLAM but then with a SKAWK Redwing flies into the apartment.

I love you, comic book sound effects.

Do you know whats wrong with comics these days? Constant rebooting series to #1s in a ill-conceived attempt to create jumping on points? Derailing characters for shock value? Too many big events? The fact that Phyla-Vell is still dead and she and Moondragon aren’t having a sapphic road trip through space? All of these things maybe. But definitely the lack of sound effects.

Falcon tells Redwing to go get the other Avengers (because Timmy fell down a well?) but Grey Gargoyle grabs the bird and turns him into stone. Rendering this entire mercifully short subplot moot.

I should be glad that the book remembered Redwing at all.

Falcon stashes Margot under a table for safety (which she mocks) while he goes to fight the dude that soloed the Avengers.

But using his agility and not standing around like an idiot, he manages to get about a page of keep away, thus giving him the best record against this guy so far.

Eventually the Gargoyle does manage a glancing punch to Falcon’s chin which floors the guy and leaves him unable to acrobatics. But thankfully someone (Cap) throws a mighty shield and Grey Gargoyle’s midsection must yield.

The Avengers have arrived! They heard reports of a “war” going on in an East Side brownstone and figured it was either the Grey Gargoyle or at least something else requiring punching.

Geez, news gets out fast.

Anyway, this time the Avengers remembered to have their teamwork turned on. Because we’ve hit that point in the page count where the Avengers win instead of getting taken down like fool chumps.

Wasp blasts Grey Gargoyle with a full force bio-power sting, which actually hurts his forehead region. Then Ms Marvel grabs Grey Gargoyle and swings him all around while also pointing out that he only won last time because they fought him one on one like idiots. And then she throws Gargoyle at Vision who punches him BRAMM. And as the punch slams him into a wall, Scarlet Witch uses her probability altering powers to turn Grey Gargoyle back to flesh.

And. I guess he just wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants this whole time. His costume is a cape, a domino mask, gloves, boots, and underwear.

I guess when your skin turns to stone you don’t need real clothes but if not for an art trope, he would have been flashing stone nipples to everyone this whole time.

Oh. And now that Gargoyle’s face is not stone, Beast lays him out flat with a punch.

Then we zoom out to see the shambles the fight has turned the apartment into. And Margot crawls out from under the surprisingly intact table (wow, Falcon was right that it would protect her!) and meekly asks

Margot: “I, uh, don’t suppose some of you would care to stay and explain all of this to my landlord, would you? Please?”

I like to think that some of them did. Or at least that a sighing Tony Stark wrote a check for damages. And by like to think, I mean that the caption box on the following page does confirm that the Avengers were cool people and did have a word with her landlord.

You’re not bad some of the times, the Avengers.

The last page of the book finally gets us back to the subplot about the senate hearing.

And even though the hearing heard the rest of the testimonial Gyrich had prepared, it seems like the senators have already made up their minds.

A senator: “Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Gyrich. Your concern that the Avengers might pose a threat to our nation’s security is greatly appreciated.”

“However, the recent incident with the Grey Gargoyle seems to reaffirm that this group’s prime concern is the safety of not only American citizens, but of law-abiding people everywhere, and that they require a certain amount of freedom to carry out that purpose seems indisputable.”

“Therefore, it is the decision of this committee that the Avengers priority privileges and security clearance remain intact -- and that the restrictions on their autonomy be lessened considerably, as detailed in the committee’s report.”

Cue Beast dancing in triumph in the background and saying “Awriiight!”

Henry Peter Gyrich, lessened liaison to the Avengers, takes this with all the grace he can muster.

Henry Peter Gyrich: “Well, Iron Man, you’ve won. I suppose this means you’ll go back to having more members than the Mormon tabernacle choir?”

Iron Man: “No, Mr. Gyrich. We probably would have cut our membership to about what it is anyway, if left to ourselves.”

Henry Peter Gyrich: “I see. Very well then, I’ll drop by next week to supervise implementation of the committee’s new guidelines. Good-day, gentleman.”

So with a lot of mustered grace. Really, the only way you can tell how disgruntled he is is that he takes off his sunglasses for the first time to wipe them and squint at Iron Man.

I wonder if they’re prescription.

Also, it sure is lucky that a supervillain attack happened just when the Avengers were not really but kind of on trial regarding how necessary they were. In a more cynical title, it would have been staged. Or just somewhat down the line from now in Marvel. Like how Reed Richards once staged a supervillain attack when he was testifying in Congress. Or something coming up moderately soon in Avengers.

Cap congratulates Iron man and says that things can get back to normal now. But Iron Man looks at Vision and Scarlet Witch having a relationship talk by the windows and says he has a feeling that for some of them, getting back to normal isn’t going to be that easy.

And thus ends the era of the Gyrich Restricted Avengers.

It was mostly wasted potential. It shook up the team roster a little bit but Falcon was the only real new thing aside from Wasp being on the team without Yellowjacket. And the new roster didn’t really get shown much due to subbing people in and out.

The stuff before the new roster, where the Avengers tried to operate without the usual privileges they enjoyed like launching jets and access to government databases made more of an impact.

More could have been done with Gyrich’s roster as he intended. And more could have been done with the idea of a more restricted Avengers team. They really only pay lip service to the idea with Cap having to go over Gyrich’s head to get presidential approval to save Scarlet Witch and the Avengers fretting briefly if Gyrich would approve them stopping to help the Russians with some elements of doom.

I guess it was an inherited plotline so David Michelinie and assorted other filler writers didn’t really have a clear idea where to go with it. Per Shooter, he intended Gyrich to be an asshole that has a point so I wonder what he would have done with the post-Korvac stuff.

At least we’re not losing Falcon immediately. No, we have him until 194.

=|

Its a shame because this issue was really the first time he shined on the team. And it wasn’t great but it was okay. By recovering first and following Grey Gargoyle, he led the Avengers to where he was which saved the life of Margot Neil. And he put up the first good fight against Grey Gargoyle the entire issue.

I think it could have been better with a minor change. Instead of Redwing flying to the battle and getting turned to stone, have Redwing fly to where the Avengers were and lead them to Falcon.

Could have gotten some brief comedy out of that with Redwing flying off and then flying back and trying to communicate with people he doesn’t have a psychic bond with and then Beast finally says ‘I think we’ve all seen enough Lassie to know he wants us to follow him.’

It would have made Falcon look more proactive and also demonstrate why having a psychic link to a bird can be handy.

Alternatively, buy him a walkie talkie so when he flies off alone he can just call you up. Did walkie talkies exist yet? The idea at least of portable communications must have existed. Like Dick Tracy’s radio watch.

Anyway.

Falcon did a good job. Good job, Falcon. I wish you got myriad moments to shine at the beginning of your time on the roster like Beast did. That’s how you build up a new Avenger.

... I just realized that Daredevil never shows up again. Matt Murdock shows up in the background of the last page but Daredevil’s contribution to a comic that had him on the cover was to catch Cap out of a fling and to ineffectually warn Iron Man of something.

Not a great crossover! Its neat in the interconnected universe way but that could have been accomplished just by having Murdock show up. Sorry, Daredevil fans!

Next time: STEEL CITY NIGHTMARE -OR- PERIL IN PITTSBURGH!

See. Not everything happens in New York.

If you want to see a new Pet Avengers with Redwing, Lockjaw, Tippy-Toe, and of course Pizza Dog, follow @essential-avengers. I have no power to actually make it happen though. Don’t get your hopes up. Also follow if you just like me doing these posts. They take so much of my time...

#Avengers #Grey Gargoyle #Falcon #Scarlet Witch #the Vision #they need to have relationship talks #Ms Marvel #Carol Danvers #Beast #Captain America #he threw his mighty shield and it wasn't immediately invalidated #Redwing #the most important Avenger of them all #Essential Avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #Henry Peter Gyrich #did not want to fight a monster and now the avengers can do what they want #Margot Neil #she never shows up again

[radbot-69]

I got tagged by @katgrn4 who is very sweet

the rules: answer 30 questions and tag people that you would like to get to know better.

gender: Female

star sign: Taurus

height: Like 5'6"

favorite type of music: Hip Hop and electronic

favorite song: Uhh right now Get Some - Ghosted and Handheld GPS - Rexx Life Raj

song that’s stuck in my head: Digital Love - Daft Punk lol

favorite book: Hard fuckin question. Either Guards! Guards! - Terry Pratchett, or The Parable of the Sower - Octavia E. Butler

last movie i watched: Winchester (mediocre horror movie, don't bother)

last TV show i watched: Bob's Burgers reruns

when did i create this blog: Christ like 6 years ago

what do i post: Memes, moods, dogs, and the odd art or aesthetic

last thing I googled: Search and Rescue Woods (wild good creepypasta series)

do i have other blogs: Nah, but I've thought about it for fandom crap or art biz

do i get asks: No, but I'm too shy to ask for em

following: 227

followers: 43, but only 18 are real not-porn blogs

favorite colors: Green and orange

average hours of sleep: About 9, sometimes more

do i like anyone: All my friends! But romantically, no.

instruments: I never learned how to play any, but I love brass and piano

what am i currently wearing: Pineapple print PJ shirt, black legging shorts

how many blankets do i sleep with: Just one, my favorite green comforter

dream job: Vodka Aunt

dream trip: Full US road trip with good company in a Winnie. It's a big country and I wanna see it ALL before traveling internationally

favorite food: MEAT, especially pork and seafood, and egg yolk

nationality: American, with mutty Scots-Irish Appalachian ancestry

i’ll tag: @bamwv @themagicalari and @timekeeper42

#personal #i always get kinda flustered by stuff like this #me

[getonite]

KURO SATURDAYYYYY ( EP 6 )

fine ahh man ( he is a certified asshole though, id punch him then and there )

CUTIE!! HE PROBABLY CHEATED!!!

...i think we know where ciel got his scheming from lmao

WHERE DID YALL COME FROM??? HELLO??? ITS NICE TO SEE ( i js got major deja vu ) YOU BUT WHERE DID YALL COME FROM???

"CERTIFIED LOVERBOY, CERTIFIED PEDOPHILE WOP, WOP, WOP, WOP, WOP, DOT, FUCK ’EM UP WOP, WOP, WOP, WOP, WOP, I’MA DO MY STUFF, WHY YOU TOLLIN’ LIKE A BITCH? AIN'T YOU TIRED? TRINA STRIKE A CHORD AND IT’S PROBABLY A MINORRRRRRR"

just sighed the biggest sigh ever known to man

no words can describe how much i love these two so fucking much.

GET IT SEXY, GET IT SEXY, GET IT SEXY 🗣🗣🗣

CAME. I WANT IT ALLLLL OVER ME. FUCK ME PLS

bro saw the head master and said 'it's time to work.' red eyes out and everything omg. look at me like that maybe???

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch— ( he keeps throwing off his clothing like that, nigga somebody gon find u out u keep doin that shit 😭 )

bonus: he looks so damn mad lol 😭

#( black butler biz ) #sebastian michaelis #kuro saturday #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji season 4 #black butler #sebastian black butler #black butler season 4 #black butler public school arc #vincent phantomhive #ciel phantomhive #herman greenhill #elizabeth midford #viscount druitt #joanne harcourt #black butler tanaka #lau black butler #baldroy #mey rin #finny #Finnigan #Lau #yana toboso

[homosexualisopod]

Donald Trump is a secret virgin. His giant hand never plunders the sodden honeysweet hormone folds of woman or man. No sex germs ever leap from the perfect angel penis of Donald Trump, bumblebee, into the electric rosebud of a beautiful lady who is singing while astride a crescent-moon, lowered from above. He never deposits a check for fixed semen assets into the asshole of a broad-shouldered middle-class knowledge worker nor does he dump a gallon of warm-but-not-expired sex milk down the pants of a woman that he "merely" meets on the street and takes a shine to on account of her Gumption and Stride.

Because he is a virgin.

Me and Donald Trump were chowing down on a hambone together, kicking back in our overalls and passing back and forth a thermos full of black coffee after a hard shift of Work Bizness, sitting on a steel beam inside a skyscraper, legs dangling.

“Hey there, my favorite man,” I tell him in a ribald fashion. “How do you like your sex? What is your preferred sex situation during an intimate time?”

But he does not answer. Instead I can see the bashful computer in his perfect mind clicking away. He is red with exertion, perhaps embarrassment. Am I mocking him? Do I know his shame?

“Sex is quite the act,” he tells me, growing arch but morose. “I enjoy it and it feels like singing straight from your heart directly into the heart of another...it is like punching, but punching with love.”

“You are exactly right,” I tell him, putting him at ease. There is brown skyscraper grease on both of our faces from another day of hard labor. “You have hit the nail on the head about sex, thus proving that you are not a virgin.”

I prefer to lie to Donald Trump. He is a painted eggshell tumbling along a conveyor belt into the smashing machine, and his pain is my pain.

He relaxes, but it is not the tranquil unknotting of concubitus supreme. It is barely relaxation at all, sans spurts, sans triumph, sans attainment of loosened repose. His face retains its angelic rictus.

For he is a virgin. He is a secret virgin. No one knows about his unravished flanks and glands. He must hide his non-crime from sinister America. But there is no shame in such a man! He is a soaring vestal, a sexless raptor, circling imperiously over unplowed fields, spying defenseless quivering prey from afar, which he must ignore, instead soaring majestically in the opposite direction to avoid being soiled by the false fluids of Another.

One time his butler tried to console him: "All heroes are virgins," he said, offering him a plate of summer sausage and yellow cheese. "To be strong, one must never come of age. It is not shame! It is a badge of merit to be so pure and to be made of so much white light that other people want to bathe in your very name the way that native women might bathe beneath a waterfall."

But Donald Trump could not be so easily consoled.

He cried forlornly, weeping secret tears of secret shame, because his mighty heart was hurting. His heart is the loneliest of his organs but not the least used. That distinction belongs to his pristine penis, which might as well still be in its original packaging: unblemished, untasted, unhandled.

He eats his husk of summer sausage while staring at yet another beautiful woman he has purchased but who must be made to stand in another room behind a sheet of one-way glass and disrobe for him in what amounts to a self-created mockery, a temptation, a woman he can never touch and who must never see or know him. She does not know why she is being paid to "remove her top" and to "smile like she is in love." He must remain continent as the pressure mounts inside him, must not reach out, smash the glass, try to grasp her long hair as his gift bubbles forth. His abstinence is not necessarily a choice, but it is his by unshakable disposition. When he is finished, his gift is scraped from the smooth one-way window by his butler and deposited with the others, and the woman is taken to the "old elevator" and given kindhearted advice about investments by his strategic manager.

He is a virgin in an identity way. It is as much a part of him as his perfect face. And yet it is a secret. No one can know.

His stubby, snuffling penis, like the wet nose of a blind hound, has never burrowed into a vagina to get out of the cold world, digging and digging a shallow hole and then collapsing into it, only just penetrating the surface membrane of alien flesh, paws over eyes, too timid and too stumpy to nuzzle any further.

He has never even done this. He has never even nuzzled his knuckle of a peesnout into a woman or man for even one instant of neritic relief.

The closest Donald Trump has ever come to completing a sex act inside a person is the time he accidentally ejaculated in his sports car while rounding a deadly curve (he was not driving, but his eyes were closed and he Forgot) and a woman tried to Own his semen from where it dried against his wide leg (it was a pleasant day and he wore a man's cargo shorts), wiping it with her camisole and then attempting to take it into herself by dabs and thrusts. Never again does he ride in cars with women who might try such a thing. Now he only rides alone.

Normally, his gifts are kept in jade jars that he purchases directly from trusted antiquities traders in modern Qatar, filling one a month and storing these emoluments away in his family vault, the way that other members of his proud family have stored treasures taken from the sea and trophies of war. The gifts harden into a smooth paste in the jars, and then a glassy calculus. Does Donald Trump make jewelry for his friends and admirers from this smooth, frosted shale?

What careful hands craft this rare jewelry? What powers of ensorcelment and magnetism might these pieces contain?

His children were made in America. They are not imports, as has been whispered. They were made by powerful and strong American artistry and science, ripening in office buildings standing proud and alone on suburban greenswards. His children are native to this land. No one must question this. They gestated inside the bellies of American breeding cows, cows that had all four legs amputated so they might be comfortable laying on giant purple silk mats, being fed grapes and fine finger sandwiches and delicious brie. These wombcows gave his big, lumbering fetal Trumps room to grow and play. No women were harmed, and Donald Trump remained chaste and unruint.

Would his Trumps be like him? Would they look like him? Would they have his grace and intelligence?

His Trumps were manifested from special gifts he created for the specific purpose of passing on his best traits, squeezed forth while staring into his own eyes by way of a video machine. He chose the women who would combine with these gifts lovingly and purposefully, manfully, using real executive vigor and decisiveness.

The process you don't even want to know about! There were races and wrestling matches and world challenges. A competition at the klavier might become a disputation in Ancient Greek that might last all night long.

The frenzy! The fevers of competition!

He never ceased inspecting these prospective Mothers. He was unsparing with the calipers, seeking perfection, knowing that to combine his gift with a woman's gift...her Blood Clot full of Frail Humors and Sensitive Touches... would be a dangerous thing, and yet he knew he must not hoard his essence, his excellence, his light.

Alone, away from the vicious throng, he is free to be as simple and honest and innocent and full of virtue as any other virgin. Alone, in his tower, he removes his suit and puts on a simple sailor's frock, an honest shirt with modest shorts. He pulls up his knee socks and puts on a humble cap with a special ribbon and he dances and sings and practices learning new facts about the world. He tells the world how he feels...brain to brain...finger to phone...watching the television and speaking to the television.

He has a virgin's simple trust. He loves the world and the world loves him.

He watches himself on the television and he sees something more than even you or I might see. His butler gives him rubs and tests his blood and skin to make sure he is still perfect. He is still perfect.

Does he wonder, wistfully, what he might become if he gives in to his darkest longings? If he risks infection and injury to slake his unholy passions inside a woman or man the same way you or I might do?

Me and Donald Trump are eating fried oysters from a red pail while laying on our backs on a raft made of logs and floating lazily down the mighty Mississippi river, our nation's hardest-pumping muddy artery.

He tells me his hopes and fears, telling me of his noble purpose in fulfilling the destiny of our great land, of protecting us from infection and disease, from being penetrated by outside penises, from accidentally lowering ourselves by commingling the skin dirt of the high people with the skin dirt of low people.

I am listening, but I cannot stop staring into his perfect ice blue eyes. I am lost in them. How has he avoided the probing of a glistening mons pubis by his muscular and swarthy cock nubbin, a nugget as hard and strong as an American silver dollar (I have felt it against me when he has become too excited, discussing his plans for our country, and has fallen over with delirium and I have steadied him)? How has he avoided concupiscence for so long? I feel myself drawn toward him, hypnotized, opening to him, and I can sense his discipline, how hard he must work to stay celibate, to keep away from the needs of admirers like me.

He pays the women prime wages to tell the television that he is not a virgin. He pays them better than celebrities are paid to pretend to be real.

"Oh yes, Donald Trump has definitely done the business," they say, averting their eyes.

"He has definitely mounted me and I have definitely felt the sweat from his jowls fleck my backbones as he grunts his way to victory in my belly, in my hand, in my anus, in my mouth. I have definitely had his penis and I am definitely not the only one."

He has watched others mate, of course, many times, even encouraging this, urging his wives to express themselves; to explore. But he can never join in such a way; never, never, never. He would lose everything...himself, his maidenhead, his answers, his virtue, his light. Build the wall. Build it high.

When he is with a woman in public, he must pretend to dominate her, to be above her, to prove that he "could have her" to the People. His wife must be of such attractiveness that it is "obvious" that he has had sex with her and will do so again. No one must question this. There must never be a Time of Testing. He will never pit his fantasies against the reality of her body, and so the sport is good and the People cheer. But it is exhausting to wonder, to know if his domination is correct, if the sham of his brutality is done with the proper rhythm and anger.

The way that he loves his land...America...is the only intimacy that he truly knows. The way that he speaks to his people...America...is his only erotic poetry. But he will never melt inside his true love...America...as he drifts to sleep beside his only mistress...America...because he has never done such a thing with anybody and he never will. He wants to have America because she is the most beautiful, but then what?

America will never be aseptic enough for Donald Trump to actually sub-agitate and smash out. Donald Trump will never hitchhike South and gag America's meat hole, IRL. His fat, glowing cherry--as jolly and eternal as Santa--will continue to fuel his legendary endurance, but he will never seal the Deal: he does not want to; he does not know how.

He is a secret virgin. He doesn't have to be a virgin and it doesn't have to be a secret. But he wills it so with his enormous soul.

It is his shame, but he should not be ashamed about the one thing that makes him Great, that makes him different, that makes him strong, that keeps him compelling in a world full of flaws and weakness and boring withered skeptics who have been drained by their own vices.

There is one holy truth that his fans and acolytes and servants whisper to each other in the furtive penumbra of his glowing heat as they orbit around him, basking in his healing radiation.

They whisper to each other, proudly and in awe.

They whisper:

Donald Trump is a secret virgin.

#donald trump #Donald Trump is a secret virgin #Donald Trump is actually black according to my friend Revii #memes #copypasta

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY AND LIBERACE

S2;E16 ~ January 5, 1970

Directed by Jack Baker ~ Written by Fred S. Fox and Seaman Jacobs

Synopsis

For a high school initiation, Craig goes on a scavenger hunt to retrieve one of Liberace's candelabras. Liberace loans it to him but Lucy thinks he stole it so she recruits Harry to sneak into the star's mansion and return it.  

Regular Cast

Lucille Ball (Lucy Carter), Gale Gordon (Harrison Otis Carter), Lucie Arnaz (Kim Carter), Desi Arnaz Jr. (Craig Carter)

Guest Cast

Liberace (Himself) was born Władziu Valentino Liberace in 1919.  A piano prodigy, he was the son of working-class immigrants, and enjoyed a career spanning four decades of concerts, recordings, television, motion pictures, and endorsements. At the height of his fame, from the 1950s to the 1970s, Liberace was the highest-paid entertainer in the world, with established residencies in Las Vegas, and an international touring schedule. 

Liberace (known informally as ‘Lee’) embraced a lifestyle of flamboyant excess both on and off stage, acquiring the sobriquet "Mr. Showmanship." Prior to this episode, his only appearance with Lucille Ball was the musical film Best Foot Forward (1943). He died at age 67 after a battle with HIV/AIDS.

Ben Wrigley (Williams, Liberace's Butler) was a British actor who appeared in My Fair Lady (1964) and Bednobs and Broomsticks (1971). He previously appeared as a ticket agent in “Lucy Flies to London” (TLS S5;E6).  This is the first of his three episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”

Paul Winchell (Carlo, Liberace's Tailor) previously played himself in“Lucy and Paul Winchell” (TLS S5;E4). He was born Paul Wilchinsky in 1922. Coming into the public eye in 1948, he became one of the most famous ventriloquists since Edgar Bergen. He hosted the enormously popular children’s television show “Winchell-Mahoney Time” (1964-68) in which he shared the spotlight with Jerry Mahoney, one of his most popular characters. He played Doc Putnam in “Main Street U.S.A.” (TLS S5;17) and “Lucy Puts Main Street on the Map” (TLS S5;E18). This is the second of his two episodes of “Here’s Lucy.”  He died in 2005.

Winchell uses an Italian accent for this character.  

This is the first episode of the new year and the new decade.  

The 1970s will see the end of “Here's Lucy” in 1974, as well as Lucille Ball's return to the silver screen in Mame that same year.  In 1971, Lucie Arnaz will wed Phil Vandervort and Desi Arnaz Jr. made his big screen debut in Red Sky at Morning.  At the end of the decade, Lucie Arnaz made her Broadway debut in They're Playing Our Song (1979).

The date this episode was first aired (January 5, 1970) ABC premiered a new daytime drama called All My Children. Philip Amelio, who played Lucy’s grandson on “Life With Lucy”, appeared on the sudser in 1988. It ceased production in 2013. 

Liberace brought $50,000 worth of his spectacular wardrobe to the set, and Lucille Ball hired a round-the-clock security guard to ensure its safety. The tuxedo jacket that lights up in the dark made its debut on this show; Liberace will use it in his act for the rest of his life.

In the 2013 HBO biopic Behind the Candelabra, an aging Liberace (Michael Douglas) compares his domestic life with partner Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) to an old sitcom. Scott protests: “Why am I the Lucy?”  Douglas' father Kirk made a wordless cameo appearance on a 1966 episode of “The Lucy Show.”

Professor Harkens gave Craig the African mask.

Lucy recalls her initiation into ‘The Swingers’ in high school.  The double entendre of 'swinging' is quickly cleared up by Lucy saying she was in a trapeze club!  For her initiation, she had to get an autographed photo of Rudy Vallee. Rudy Vallee was a singer popular in the 1920s and '30s who made a guest appearance on the first episode of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in 1957.  He will guest star as himself during season 3 of “Here's Lucy.”  

Kim guesses that Craig may have to retrieve an item from Engelbert Humperdinck. Lucy replies “What's an Engelbert Dumperhinck?”  Engelbert Humperdinck is an English pop singer acclaimed as one of the finest middle-of-the-road balladeers around. In 1969 he released two albums and had three hit singles. That same year he was the first guest on “The Liberace Show”. 

In Liberace's mansion, he enters and sits at a glass-lid Baldwin grand piano and plays Chopin's “Military Polonaise” (Opus 40, #1) composed in 1838.  

When Liberace tries on the light-up jacket, he says “This'll really turn them on in Pasadena!”  He could be referring to his senior citizen female fans. There was a popular song at the time titled “Little Old Lady From Pasadena.” Later in the episode we learn that the candelabra loaned to Craig was a gift from a Senior Citizen group. 

In a retrospectively ironic line, Liberace says about his many candelabras: “I've got closets full of them.” Although Liberace was flamboyant, his sexual orientation was never discussed publicly (he was ‘in the closet’) until later in his life.  When 17 year-old Craig and Liberace are alone (and Craig's shirt is unbuttoned to the navel) it is difficult not to think of Liberace's romance with 18 year-old Scott Thorson (inset), who later sued the entertainer in America's first same-sex palimony case.

At home, Craig gets a phone call from Bill. This is probably a nod to Desi Arnaz Jr.'s friend and band mate Billy Hinsche.  

Answering the front door, Kim says “It's probably Craig with his arms loaded down with that something he had to get from a big star.” Lucy replies: “Maybe he's got his arms full of Jackie Gleason.”  This is a quick joke about comedy star Jackie Gleason's weight.  Gleason did a cameo as Ralph Kramden in the second episode of “Here's Lucy” (above). 

Harry is reminded that in college he underwent initiation into the fraternity Delta Delta Tau. The joke comes when he gives says their initials – DDT. Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane (DDT) is a chemical used as an insecticide. In the late 1960s and early ‘70s DDT was frequently in the news regarding its harmful effects on humans, wildlife, and the environment.  DDT was eventually banned.  

The candelabra is inscribed “To Liberace. From his Senior Citizen Fan Club in Pismo Beach.” Along with Cucagmonga, Pismo Beach was often used as a punch-line for jokes about California. It was mentioned in “Lucy Goes on Strike” (S1;E16). Pismo Beach is one of the locations Lucy and Ethel want to visit before returning to New York in “Lucy Gets Into Pictures” (ILL S4;E18).

On their way to return the candelabra to Liberace, Harry holds it forth and says “Lead, kindly light.”  “Lead, Kindly Light” is a hymn with words written in 1833 by John Henry Newman as a poem titled "The Pillar of Cloud."

Sneaking into Liberace's mansion through the back door, Harry's shoes squeak! Lucy says “You'd sure be a goofball on 'Mission: Impossible.’”  The Desilu TV spy show “Mission: Impossible” has been a source of humor for “Here's Lucy,” which even did a whole episode parodying the show: “Lucy's Impossible Mission” (S1;E6, above).  

Harry and Lucy sing while Liberace plays "By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” a song written in 1909 by Gus Edwards and Edward Madden. Lucy says she and Harry first performed the number at the Kiwanis Capers.

When Lucy suggests that Liberace use the whole family on his TV special, Liberace remarks “You're about 83 short of the King Family.” The King Family was a family musical group that had great success on records and television in the 1960s. They had a TV show on ABC that ran until 1969.  

As the big finale, everyone sings and dances to "I'll Be Seeing You," a song written by Sammy Fain and Irving Kahal in 1938. It was inserted into the Broadway musical Right This Way, which closed after just  fifteen performances.

Lucy and Lee shared the covers of many periodicals of the 1950s. Both had top-rated television programs and were instantly identifiable figures and names. Nearly 20 years later, both are still considered show business royalty. 

Offscreen, Lucy and Desi socialize with Liberace during the height of their fame. 

At the start of the episode, Craig enters wearing an African mask.  The moment is similar to when Ricky Ricardo researched African masks for his Voodoo act during “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” (ILL S2;E16). The scene also begins the 1953 episode. Ricky Ricardo also briefly wore an African mask in “Cuban Pals” (ILL S1;E28) before singing “Similau.”  

Liberace tells Craig not to worry about returning the candelabra as he has a lot of them. Craig replies: “If Los Angeles ever had a black out – you could light the whole city.” This echoes when Liberace was first mentioned by Lucy Ricardo in “The Diner” (ILL S3;E25) in 1954.  

LUCY RICARDO: (about Ricky’s bad mood): “Everything went wrong down at the club last night. Right in the middle of his big number, the lights went out all over the whole neighborhood. Everybody got up and, and left and went into the nightclub across the street.” ETHEL MERTZ: “How’d they manage without electricity?” LUCY RICARDO: “Liberace was playing there.  He does his show by candlelight.” 

“Lucy’s Club Dance” (S3;E25) included the February 26, 1954 issue of TV Guide with Liberace (and a candelabra) on the cover. It was one of many used as set dressing for a corner news stand.  

In “Lucy’s Show-Biz Swan Song” (ILL S2;E12) Lucy and Ethel sing “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” and wangles her way into performing with a barbershop quartet.

In “Lucy’s Barbershop Quartet” (TLS S1;E19) Lucy Carmichael and Vivian Bagley sing “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” and wangles her way into performing with a barbershop quartet.

Craig's collectibles are no doubt supplied by prop master Kenneth Westcott from the Desilu props supply.  It is likely that all of the items were used in some television program, but the one most recognizable is the female ship's figurehead. It was last seen in the background of the Sunset Strip beatnik hangout in “Viv Visits Lucy” (TLS S5;E15).  

In “Lucy and the Countess Have a Horse Guest” (TLS S4;E6), Lucy Carmichael tells the Countess (aka her old chum Rosie) that since moving to Hollywood she has met Lassie’s hairdresser, the man who used to dry off Lloyd Bridges, and Liberace’s dentist. Liberace was well known for his continual smile.  

In “Lucy Dates Dean Martin” (TLS S4;E21) Lucy Carmichael admires (and later wears) a sequined top once worn by Audrey Hepburn. Dean Martin says “The last time I saw anything that fancy was on Liberace.”  In “Lucy and Liberace” Harry admires and tries on Liberace’s red sequined jacket. 

Math Fail!  Liberace says that the Carters are 83 short of the King Family. There were 39 members of the King family, ranging in age from 7 months to 79 years, who appeared on their television show.  Liberace is exaggerating by 48 Kings!

Where the (Marble) Floor Ends! In the living room scene the camera pulls back to far and reveals the soundstage cement floor.  When this happens in Liberace's mansion, the tape spike marks are clearly visible for centering of the dance numbers and camera positions.

Sitcom Logic Alert! The ending of the episode ditches all pretense of reality and turns into a musical performance for the studio audience, including Liberace waving to the audience as he exits – stage right!  It is jarring and a sign that – once again - “Here's Lucy” is unsure of its identity.  

“Lucy and Liberace” rates 3 Paper Hearts out of 5

Let's face it – even playing himself Liberace is a pretty mediocre actor, so this episode could never be more than a showcase for his talent and opulent wardrobe on which is hung a paper thin plot. The worst thing about the episode is the complete demolishing of the fourth wall during the final number. Shameless, really.  

#Here's Lucy #Lucille Ball #Liberace #Lucie Arnaz #Gale Gordon #Desi Arnaz Jr. #Candelabra #Behind the Candelabra #Chopin Military Polonaise #I'll Be Seeing You #By the light of the Silvery Moon #The King Family #Paul Winchell #Ben Wrigley #Jack Baker #Seaman Jacobs #Fred S. Fox #Rudy Vallee #Engelbert Humperdinck #Billy Hinsche #Scott Thorson #Michael Douglas #DDT #Kenneth Westcott #Jackie Gleason #Lead Kindly Light #Mission Impossible #TV #1970 #CBS

[ringostarrsfinger]

Paul’s Twitter q and a

From the Daily Beatle, October 21, 2014. Photos can be found at the link

Yesterday, Paul McCartney took the time to answer questions on Twitter. Here are most of these:

elijah Kraling: What goes through your mind when you walk out on to the stage with a huge crowd?

Paul McCartney: Great excitement at their reaction

Jennifer: Do you have a favorite TV show?

Answer: I love 'Veep' and 'Family Feud' ("We asked a hundred people!")

Nick Tregoning: What's your favourite cheese?

Paul McCartney: I like a lot of them. How about cheddar, goats, feta and de Boursin.

andres: How did you come up with the song Blackbird?

Paul McCartney: I was in Scotland & was playing guitar thinking of a Bach piece that we used to play & also the civil rights situation.

Melissa: Did you come up with the idea for the new album cover?

Paul McCartney: No! It was my design team, Mike & Rebecca who suggested it and then my son-in-law Alastair suggested the neon.

Emily Vidovich: Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Paul McCartney: I hardly ever see sunrises so it's sunsets for me!

Yonosoy Rodrigo: Who is your favourite classical composer?

Paul McCartney: Probably Bach.

Leticia: What was the inspiration for the song of Wings "Call Me Back Again"?

Paul McCartney: I was imagining being a kid and phoning a girlfriend who never answered.

Brandon Butler: If you could describe the "Wings Years" in one or two words, what word(s) would you use and why?

Paul McCartney: Difficult, but Brilliant!

Mary: Cats or dogs?

Paul McCartney: Dogs! (Although I love cats too).

Marcos f: There's another song from the 'NEW' album that you would like to put on the setlist?

Paul McCartney: We've been playing with 'Appreciate' but it's kind of hard to do.

Collin Searls: Will you be playing Hope (the Destiny theme) live in concert?

Paul McCartney: HOPEfully!

Alunvaughan: Have you got a favourite cover of one of your tracks?

Paul McCartney: There are so many that I love it's difficult to say but Esther Phillips version of 'And I love HIM' comes to mind.

Orbital Nick: What's your favourite bassline to play? One you really enjoy!

Paul McCartney: At the moment it's '...For the Benefit of Mr Kite'. It's challenging!

david k.: What did you learn or rediscover during the remastering of Venus And Mars?

Paul McCartney: It was a surprise to hear how good some of the tracks still sounded, particularly 'Call Me Back Again'.

Clara: Do you have any tattoos?

Paul McCartney: No I don't. Not even on my ass!

Ryan Adams: Are you a cyborg?

Paul McCartney: I am in fact an alien!

Beatlesmaniacs: Which is your favorite kind of sports?

Paul McCartney: Football (Soccer), but to watch on TV: American Football, Track, and Basketball.

Vickie Valenzuela: What was your best Halloween costume?

Paul McCartney: Alice Cooper!

User8472: Favourite Meryl Streep movie?

Paul McCartney: I love Meryl Streep. Devil Wears Prada is great, although everything she does is brilliant.

Four Headed Monster: Paul, can you tell us what is going on in these pictures please?

Paul McCartney: 1st John & I are in Paris when he was 21 & generally goofing around.

Paul McCartney: 2nd Pulling faces in hat shop!

Paul McCartney: 3rd Nipple pointing!

Michelle Gregory: Do you have a favourite flower Paul? Mine are lilies.

Paul McCartney: Probably roses!

Daniele Paula: What do you most like about doing live concerts in Brazil?

Paul McCartney: The crazy enthusiasm and youth of the audiences. They're brilliant!

Andrew Davis: Are you excited for the rerelease of Venus and Mars & Wings At The Speed Of Sound?

Paul McCartney: Yeah! I think that my team has put together brilliant packages that even I find amazingly interesting.

Manu: What is your favorite colour?

Paul McCartney: Blue comes to mind.

Patricia Francis: Do you like Halloween? What was your favorite candy as a kid?

Paul McCartney: I do like it, it allows me to go unrecognized in my disguise and Mars Bars were my favourite!

Heal the world.: Something new you learned lately?

Paul McCartney: Patience! (Not sure if it's true but it's an answer!)

Florencia: Paul, you sing in the shower?

Paul McCartney: Yes I do - 'Singing in the Rain' or 'It's Raining Men' or 'Waterfalls'!

Duda: How old were you when you wrote your first song?

Paul McCartney: I was 14 years old in Liverpool. It was called 'I Lost My Little Girl'.

Joanna Scatasti: Have you ever forgotten the words to a song while you were playing it?

Paul McCartney: Quite regularly. I think that the people in my audience know the songs better than I do. Excuse is I've written rather a lot.

Red Owl: How has being a vegetarian changed you?

Paul McCartney: It's made me healthier but certainly given me a compassionate perspective on the animals we share the planet with.

THANKS PAUL ILYSM: Would you like to visit the moon?

Paul McCartney: No I don't even like rollercoasters!

Kornball: Can you give me a nickname?

Paul McCartney: Kornball! You shall forever be known as this!

Laura: what's the first record you ever bought?

Paul McCartney: Gene Vincent singing Be Bop A Lula on the Capitol label which was sheer magic.

Diegomiralbés.jpg: Hey Paul, can you reply to this tweet saying something very stupid?

Paul McCartney: My toes are in my mouth!

Naked dude: Do you ever twerk?

Paul McCartney: The last time I twerked I was with Katy Perry. She was rather good at it!

Andrew St. Clair : What makes the studio space at Abbey Road so special?

Paul McCartney: There have been so many great hits made in that room that physically and spiritually it has a greatness built into it.

Rick Rubin's question is lost, but looks like it was about faith.

Paul McCartney: Yes I do. I don't know quite what, but I believe in a benevolent spirit that is behind everything that we do.

Rachel Foster: Favorite song you have written for someone else?

Paul McCartney: 'Step Inside Love' which I wrote for the British singer Cilla Black, but Diana Krall has one of mine coming out soon that I love.

Naked dude: Is there anyone who makes you starstruck?

Paul McCartney: Even though I've known him for a long time the nearest is probably Bob Dylan.

Phil McNamara: Favourite gig you've BEEN to (not played in)?

Paul McCartney: There are many, but Mr Carter & Kanye West comes to mind.

Domi Silva: What the World needs now is.. ?

Paul McCartney: ...Paul McCartney - vote for me! (He said modestly!) Though I'm not sure what state I'm in!

Dreamer: What makes you feel better when you're in bad mood?

Paul McCartney: Drugs, Alcohol & Sex (he says with a wink).

Shawndelle Dixon: Are you the walrus?

Paul McCartney: In fact because I happen to wear a walrus head in Magical Mystery Tour - I am the nearest any of us came! GooGoogAJoob!

Vanessa: Do you have any hobbies like collecting or knitting?

Paul McCartney: Not really, but I do have some nice guitar picks from over the years and some nice books too!

Beth Léon: Can you yodel?

Paul McCartney: Yes. I studied in Switzerland!

Maccadonia: What do you think of your young fans? I have 12 years and I love your music!

Paul McCartney: I love my young fans! I'm always surprised how many there are. I love the perspective of young people.

Victoria: What's your favorite horror movie?

Paul McCartney: «Alien» would be my favourite for the bit of chest-popping!

Laura Boxall: Can you speak any other languages?

Paul McCartney: Si, Oui, Ja!

Flora Hausammann: Is it okay for me to own 8 beatles tshirts?

Paul McCartney: It's very good, but not enough!

Yorkshire Mouth: Who was the last person you said 'Hello' to? And who was the last you said 'goodbye' to?

Paul McCartney: Just left my wife Nancy in the street (Goodbye), and Hello is you.

Ѧʟѧṡҡѧ: Will you marry me?

Paul McCartney: I'm afraid I'm spoken for. So the answer is a firm 'No!'

maria: Why are you so hot?

Paul McCartney: It just comes naturally to me!

THE FEMTROOPER: Is there anywhere in the world you haven't been but would like to go?

Paul McCartney: Yeah, China! It seems like everyone else has, but I haven't!

christine g: Who is one of your favorite film directors?

Paul McCartney: Scorsese, Fellini and Dave Grohl!

Joe Mantegna: You have written songs for others that were hits. Ever think about releasing your own versions?

Paul McCartney: I wrote 'Come and Get It' for Badfinger and 'World Without Love' for Peter & Gordon.

Idealist: Which activist group do you hold most near and dear to your heart?

Paul McCartney: Pussy Riot & Peta.

Raising Biz: Early Take - Beware My Love - Does One Exist? How about a Best of The Rest Album?

Paul McCartney: Yes indeed! And here’s the world premiere of it featuring John Bonham on drums!

mack Halley: What was it like playing with great John Bonham?

Paul McCartney: It was fantastic! He was always on my top 5 drummer list and a great friend and ballsy drummer!

Selena: How did you feel about this costume?

Paul McCartney: A trifle cattish!

Winston: What's your favorite type of pie?

Paul McCartney: Pecan, baby!

Sarah Stacey: How does it feel when you hear people singing your songs?

Paul McCartney: Really beautiful, humbling and exciting at the same time.

Cham: If you were ruler of your own country what would you call it?

Paul McCartney: Maccadonia!

Rachael Brown: What should I carve my pumpkin as?

Paul McCartney: Dave Grohl!

Mary Gerdt: What have you always wanted to do and didn't have the time?

Paul McCartney: Spend three days in bed!

McCartney also revealed that his favourite current songs are the Foo Fighters new track 'Something From Nothing' and Sia's 'Chandelier'.

#paul mccartney #interview #rare

[rickhorrow]

10 To Watch : Mayors Edition 5719

10 TO WATCH : RICK HORROW’S TOP SPORTS/BIZ/TECH/PHILANTHROPY ISSUES FOR THE WEEK OF MAY 6 : MAYORS EDITION 

With Jacob Aere

We kick off our week at Drexel University. Drexel2020: The Evolving Sports Business Market will be held in Philadelphia the morning of May 6, and presents a rare opportunity to hear directly from movers and shakers in the sports world and gain access to their personal insights. Our signature new book, The Sport Business Handbook, recognizes the last 50 years as the formative period for the modern era of sports business. The Drexel University panel will explore its most influential moments. Most importantly, a vision for the future will emerge, with valuable perspective offered from the very individuals shaping that future. I look forward to moderating the panel, which features sports business leaders Jon Butler of Pop Warner, Tony Ponturo of Turnkey Sports and formerly Anheuser-Busch, and Nick Sakiewicz of the National Lacrosse League. The event is free and open to students, members of the sports business community, and others looking to learn more about the ins and outs of our high-profile industry.

Tiger Woods will receive his Presidential Medal of Freedom on Monday. According to the New York Times, the Presidential Medal of Freedom is the nation’s highest civilian honor. First awarded in 1963, it has honored achievements in fields including acting, architecture, art, economics, law, medicine, music, journalism, and politics. Among the two dozen sports figures who have been honored are Jesse Owens, Ted Williams, Muhammad Ali, and Michael Jordan. In golf, President George W. Bush honored Jack Nicklaus and Arnold Palmer, while President Obama recognized the pioneering player Charlie Sifford. In his time in office, President Trump has honored Babe Ruth posthumously, as well as quarterback Roger Staubach. Woods’ award comes at a time when many athletes have shown a reluctance to be honored by the Trump administration. The Golden State Warriors declined a White House visit after their championship, as did the NCAA Champion University of Virginia men’s basketball team. The champion Baylor women’s basketball team attended a White House ceremony last Monday.

The U.S. government has placed Saudi Arabia on its Priority Watch List amid ongoing pressure from several national sports bodies and international broadcasters to bring down the pirate broadcaster BeoutQ. The Office of the U.S. Trade Representative (USTR) has released two reports condemning the Saudi-based piracy operation and calling out the country for its failure to protect intellectual property. Saudi officials have confirmed the illegal nature of BeoutQ’s activities and claim to be addressing this issue by seizing BeoutQ set-top boxes. But such devices nevertheless continue to be widely available and are generally unregulated in Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia is included in the USTR’s "2019 Special 301 Report" that identifies governments that fail to protect and enforce intellectual property around the world. The U.S. government intervention arrives in conjunction with calls made by the U.K. government to investigate widespread piracy of live sports content in Saudi Arabia. The pirate broadcaster is also subject of a $1 billion international investment arbitration BeIN Sports brought against Saudi Arabia last October.

Fenway Park will host its own college football bowl game starting in 2020. Fenway Park will host a new bowl game starting in 2020 featuring teams from the ACC and AAC, according to sources. The ballpark will join venues in Los Angeles and Myrtle Beach as "sites for new bowl games" in 2020, which "marks the start of the NCAA's new bowl cycle." A record 43 bowls will be played that season. Fenway will become the third Major League Baseball venue to host a bowl game, "joining the Pinstripe Bowl at Yankee Stadium and the Cheez-It Bowl" at Chase Field. AT&T Park in San Francisco previously held bowl games under multiple naming rights partners, but the short-lived tradition was discontinued after low attendance year after year. Just as the NFL has stretched its brand marketing to become a 12-month sport, so too is college football looking to retain fan interest year round by extending its post season and timing intriguing announcements – like a bowl game underneath the Green Monster – to the post NFL Draft college football news cycle.

Women’s hockey players lay down their sticks in search of a better deal. Over 200 women’s hockey players, with names that include Team USA stars Hilary Knight and Kendall Coyne Schofield, announced that they refuse to play in a North American professional hockey league next season, noting in a statement that "We cannot make a sustainable living playing in the current state of the professional game. Having no health insurance and making as low as two thousand dollars a season means players can't adequately train and prepare to play at the highest level." Last Wednesday, the Canadian Women's Hockey League officially discontinued its operations, citing an economically unstable business model, leaving the National Women’s Hockey League the sole remaining professional league in North America. Some players noted that they hope the NHL will support a women's league via financial and infrastructural resources, according to ESPN. In contrast, on the men's side, the top ten players of the 2018-2019 season each brought home multi-million dollar paychecks from the NHL, with lucrative endorsement deals to boot.

CBD is building a perfectly legal presence in pro sports. Hemp supplement company cbdMD is sponsoring golfer Bubba Watson in a multiyear deal that kicks off with the PGA Championship at Bethpage Black later this month. Watson will feature the cbdMD logo on both sides of his headwear at all PGA Tour events. The deal includes a wide range of other integrated marketing opportunities to promote the brand. Meanwhile, another hemp company, diemCBD, has partnered with marketing company Swag'r to launch an augmented reality game for attendees of the NASCAR Coca-Cola 600 on May 26 at Charlotte Motor Speedway. Users can download the app, which is modeled on "Pokemon Go," to collect diemCBD tokens while exploring the Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series event, leading them to coupons, free products, and more. From sports wagering to CBD usage and brand-building among athletes, we are certainly currently living in an era of relaxed rules considering where sports was merely months ago. As always, money talks.

Youth baseball gets a boost from Stadium and Adidas. Stadium inked an exclusive partnership with the 2019 Cal Ripken Major/70 World Series, a tournament of champions for players aged 12 and under. Stadium will air thirty-four live games over eight days, including the International Championship, U.S. Championship, and World Championship on August 10. Similarly, Little League Baseball and Softball inked a multi-year partnership with Adidas that will see the brand become the official uniform, footwear, and coaches apparel supplier for the Little League World Series and a Little League Official Sponsor. Beginning this season, Adidas will design and create all official on-field uniforms for all seven total Little League World Series events throughout the United States. Additionally, Adidas will outfit all teams with cleats, training apparel, and accessories, and all coaches will be supplied with athletic footwear and apparel. To kick off the partnership’s first season, Adidas will design brand and marketing activations at both the Little League Baseball World Series in Williamsport, Pennsylvania and the Little League Softball World Series in Portland, Oregon. Right before school resumes in August, our attention will be riveted on school-age bats and gloves at their annual peak. 

NASCAR has a plan to boost attendance and ratings: betting on races. NASCAR has signed an exclusive data partnership with Genius Sports, a deal they believe will lead to an in-race betting product and help battle slumping attendance and TV ratings. According to Hashtag Sports, currently, bets on NASCAR races are few and far between at U.S. sports books, who often only have head-to-head options or odds on the race winner. Genius will use up-to-the-second data points like car speed and track position to build a betting product that the London-based company can sell to sports books. Exclusive access to the data will allow Genius to create a betting platform that provides traditional wagers—like who will win—and prop bets such as the number of lead changes or whether a Chevy will end up in victory lane. Sports leagues and teams typically see increased engagement when live betting is offered. Not only does it attract new fans, but live betting keeps them engaged for longer periods of time. NASCAR is hoping for the same response as support for the racing circuit both in-person and on TV declines.

LA 2028 has released its first budget for the 2028 Summer Olympic Games, a $6.88 billion spending plan that includes a $616 million contingency for overruns. The top line is 29% higher than a $5.33 billion budget released in 2017, which has been the most commonly cited price for the Games. However, that figure was calculated in 2016 dollars, and was designed for a 2024 Games. The new 2028 budget reflects the longer lead-time Los Angeles agreed to when it accepted the 2028 hosting duties and ceded the race for 2024 to Paris. More importantly, it is calculated in “real money” terms, adjusted for inflation based on when each dollar will actually be raised and spent. According to LA 2028 Chair Casey Wasserman, the much-discussed $2.5 billion domestic sponsorship revenue goal was already inflation-adjusted and does not change. The new number also includes $200 million in additional IOC funding promised as part of the deal L.A. accepted in exchange for being awarded the 2028 Games. Most of that $200 million will be spent on funding youth sports programs in L.A. and committee operations for an additional four years.

Disney has reached a handshake agreement to sell its share of its regional sports networks to the Sinclair Broadcast Group. After out bidding opponents, Sinclair Broadcast Group scooped up Disney’s remaining 21 networks, which are roughly worth $10 billion. If the sale goes through, this would solve Disney’s sports media monopolization puzzle after the U.S. Department of Justice informed the company it would have to divest RSNs that ESPN acquired last June. According to SportsPro, a majority stake in the YES Network – Fox’s premier sports network partially owned by the New York Yankees – has reportedly already been acquired by Amazon and Sinclair in a $3.5 billion deal. Among Sinclair’s closest rivals for the majority of the RSNs: Major League Baseball reportedly teamed up with Formula One owner Liberty Media earlier this month during the final round of bidding. With Disney having to divest some of its properties, Sinclair Broadcast Group has transformed into another sports broadcast behemoth that may have a tech advantage thanks to its partnership with Amazon.

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