#actually it’s empires as well today wow scandalous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

momo-de-avis · 1 year

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Oh, that Jeronimos gossip sounds interesting. What do you mean, it was a scandal?

In the 19th century, everyone in Europe was traversing an identity crisis and sought to define their own nationalism. So nations in europe looked back at their past and tried to think, which moment of the past signified our biggest glory? The answer to this question is whatever revival you see in the country's capital city. Paris with Gothic. England with Tudor. Greece is easy to answer. Italy, take a guess.

Well we realised, it has to be Manuel I, because that's when we were an EmPiRe. Glorious constructions! Colonialism! Imperialism!

More so, at this moment, and this when the subject of Art History is being developed into a field of studies and not just an "I have opinions" type of thing, people figured it was at this moment that Portugal, because it had so much money, developed its own style. A style uniquely portuguese, an architectural language that willingly (willingly!) rejected the renaissance, which could only mean we were SO POWERFUL. A style that is comprised of all these new ExOtIc things we were discovering across the globe, and which apparently celebrates the discoveries because wow look at all these ropes on these windows!

On a side note: now that we're in 2023, that is 90% false. Most art historians disagree that Manuelino is an architectural style at all. The "ropes" are not ropes and never were. There is some "exoticism" in the buildings, yes, but they're not there because "haha white man never seen an elephant before". They're actually symbols of power and they're documents of events that happened in history. Fun stuff, but as usual, the romantics were wrong.

So with this settled among the portuguese people, everyone decided we must find the most glorious example of this architecture! And hey! We have it! It's the Jeronimos Monastery! The greatest gem of Manuelino!

Just one problem.

In the 19th century, the monastery was in ruins.

In 1833, religious orders were annhiliated off the face of this country, for several reasons that to this day bother the shit out of historians, but the fact of the matter is that we have a fuckton of them, way to fucking many, and they're been hoarding shit like fucking dragons. To give you an idea, there was so much shit (and I mean art, jewellery, paintings, sculpture, etc) that entire wings of the National Museum of Ancient Art were FILLED with just the crap found inside these convents.

The Jeronimos Monastery was one of the many shut down, the monks then had to go elsewhere (which is when they sold the recipe for the custard tarts of Belém to the store that is still today, and why it is still a secret). Soon after, the Monastery became home to Casa Pia, which is kind of like an orphanage for the non-portuguese people.

When this debate was happening, the monastery was in near-ruins. I mean, completely run down. So it was a huge shame at the time.

Now, mind you, this is the kind of debate that the average Zé doesn't give a shit about, and at the time, the government wasn't really concerned about this.

Enter Alexandre Herculano, and Almeida Garrett got his hand in this too. The historian decided to raise a campaign to call everyone's attention to the sorry state the monastery was in, and how shameful it was for us, the portuguese, to leave such a building to be in such a state.

It was also around this time that the word "manuelino" was coined. Vernhagen comes up with the term, but it's Almeida Garrett (WHO WAS ENGLISH, I HAVE TO KEEP REMINDING EVERYONE HE WAS ENGLISH) defined the style.

Herculano's campaign worked, and the government decided to find a project to recover the monastery.

This is when the scandals starts.

I don't know from memory, but we're looking at something like 6 different architects who were rejected. Now, this is the 19th century, a time when the concepts of "restoration" and "conservation" are being discussed. For a quiuck rundown on the two: in western europe, there's Conservation, led by John Ruskin, who defends that buildings should have no intervention, but instead, we should do our best to preserve them and then let nature run its course, until collapses. And then there's Viollet-le-Duc, in France, who defends Restoration: that we absolutely must intervene in buildings, and we are free to rebuild parts of it and make additions, even if they are 500 years away, but to do so, we must use modern materials such as iron or steel, so that the untrained eye can immediately see that this is different, and thus this must be recent. In Portugal, we mostly follow Viollet-le-Duc's perspective.

So, with Viollet-led-Duc being the favoured theorist here, when we talk about "restoring" the monastery, we're talking about heavy intervention. But this was still fresh, so the enlightened individuals at the time took this to mean "let's just make shit up".

The entire souther wing of the monastery, what is today the archeological and naval museums, was made up. Admittedly, it was rebuilt based on what it used to look like, but... much more. Compare it with this painting from, I believe the 17th century:

There's something really funny here, which is: the monastery was in a shit state because of neglect. The 1755 earthquake actually, and miraculously, barely affected Belém.

You see that tower there? That is the original belltower. It's simple, because that's the dominating style at the time, and what the original architects went for. Today there's this thing

this was designed by an architect who, and I am sighing as I type this, came up with this shit, "an indian-style dome", to honour Vasco da Gama's achievements and our presence in India. It's no wonder this shit was Salazar's wet dream.

Eventually, they just keep adding shit. The entire southern body, as I stated, is one of them, which used to be the dormitories. When you look at what the monastery looks like today and compare it with the 17th century painting, you'll notice that the 19th century version is "a lot more". There's just a lot more shit going on. They basically waged on verticality, and added and added shit to make the monumento not only more vertical, but more symmetrical, which is NOT what was going on with the monastery before this.

If you look at that painting, you'll notice that there's something there that is not in the monastery anymore. Where today is the main entrance, kind of like a closed atrium that leads you not only to the monastery proper but the façade of the church (the western portal), in the painting, it has a massive body built on top of it. That body is gone, instead there's an open space, that ugly ass dome, and two spires opposite from it--both a 19th century invention. That "body" was meant to be one of two things: a sort of customs for every commercial ship coming from india, or a connection to a Palace Manuel I might have wanted to build here (this second one seems most likely to me). They tore the whole fucking down.

Then comes the graver thing.

So, by 1880, 12 projects had been submitted, each one of them is fighting for dear life to reconstruct this shit. At one point, this became a political matter. There's a lot of background to why this became such a heated debate: the britsh ultimatum, for example, really depressed the people enough that it was the perfect event to speak of Portugal's clonial past with nostalgic tears, and then there was this massive mound of stone that was falling apart that was supposed to signify this lost glory. Restoring the monastery meant restoring PORTUGAL'S PAST!

In this wild fever of "making shit up" and, as one intellectual of the time called it, I sincerely don't remember who but I can still hear my professor quoting this in class, "make Manuelino more than Manuelino truly is", then comes, I think he was an italian architect, and he has a GREAT idea.

Let's build a fucking tower.

Now, this tower was supposed to go in the middle of the southern body, standing where today is the main entrance to the Archeological Museum.

Let's look at this again

As you can see, no tower.

(Slight edit: there is a tower, but it's barely tower, it's so tiny I didn't even consider it a tower lmfao this thingw as really not bothered about VERTICALITY)

Like, I cannot highlight enough how 90% of what you see here today is just entirely made up, a completely made-up version of Manuelino that is NOT what we know Manuelino to be today, and a reflection of 19th century nationalism (which, to be fair, is different from Salzar's nationalism, though in a way that a rightist grandpa is different from his rightist grandson). But the tower was the epitome of this, and when shit got so wild they FINALLY stepped back and said "maybe we took it too far".

This italian guy goes ahead and just starts building the tower. I dont' remember the exact height, but this tower was HIGH. So high, immediately people who knew their shit told this guy it couldn't hold, because the building was from THE FUCKING 16TH CENTURY and didn't have the tructure to hold so much vertical weight. My man gave no shits. This is about when the myth of gothic being "high constructions cause people were trying to reach god" comes along, so they kinda thought this was the proper way to honour Manuelino and make it, as the mysterious dude said, more manuelino than manuelino truly is.

Here is an engraving of HALF of what it was supposed to look like, made during construction:

In 1878 construction starts. In December, the entire thing collapses, killing 10 workers.

This is exactly where this very famous photo comes from

This is what the Monastery looked like after it was botched and botched repeatedly. It started off as the gem of manuelino, and ended as the duchess of Alba of monuments, essentially.

This was so scandalous, EVERYONE wrote about it. Not only had further damage been caused to the monastery, it had caused the deaths of 10 workers. Those who had been trying to warn everyone to maybe don't overdo it, finally had their time to shine.

My absolutely favourite criticism comes from Ramalho Oritgão, who said about this new tower: "It couldn't fall from old age, so it fell from shame."

They had to abandon every project from this moment on. Reconstruction of this part of the moment would resume quickly, but they abandoned the idea of a tower altogether. But the entire campaign would only come to a complete end in 1940, by when this entire area of Belém became a fascist's wet dream to welcome the Portuguese World Exhibition. By then, however, MOST construction was concluded, and it was just soom rooms that were wrapped up.

The most interesting thing about this is that one of the people who witnessed this collapse was an englishman who would go on back home and, inspired by this event, build his own church, his own massive tower, and then do it disproportionately so it would collapse, all because he was so fascinated by this event. I keep forgetting who this was and what church we're talking about. I keep getting Fonthill Abbey but I'm not sure if that's it. And the reason he did that does have to fo with Ruskin's conservationism theories, where, if you're going to preserve things until the end, then you're going to love ruins (which is why so many british gardens have these small made-up ruins to discover), so this guy really wanted to build a church that would look like a ruin, couldn't come up with it, came to Portugal, witnessed this shit, and... voilà.

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years

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Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9

Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings

Author: Purple_ducky00

Rating: Teen

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Rhodey/Tony

Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?

++++++++++

“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.

Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt. Tony is working out of his.

Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”

“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”

“I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”

“Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.

They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”

Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.

Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.

Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.

Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.

Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.

Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.

What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.

Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”

“You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.

Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”

“So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.

“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”

Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.

Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.

As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”

“Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.

Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”

“You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”

“Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.

Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.

By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.

Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.

Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”

“Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”

“Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”

“Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.

They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.

She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”

“Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”

“You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”

When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”

“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”

Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc. When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”

“How did you…?”

“You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”

Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”

“Well, I’d like to meet him.”

+++++++ Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”

“Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”

A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.

She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”

“That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”

The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.

“I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.

Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”

“Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”

“They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.

Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.

“Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”

The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“You’re serious?” Tony gasps.

“Completely.”

“Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.

++++++ The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.

Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.

#ironhusbands #royalty au #tony stark doesn't give a care #ironhusbands bingo 2020 #ironhusbands bingo #au_gust_2020 #i write!

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androgyne-acolyte · 5 years

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The Radical Queer Gospel

(My first try at a sermon, for Pride Sunday 2019. You can also listen on Soundcloud.)

Why do we need a Pride Sunday? Especially in June? [Note: our local Pride festival is held in July.]

Because there is still a great lie that queer people — LGBTQ+ people — and Christians can’t get along.

I’ve had people on the internet tell me that my decision to go into ministry as a genderqueer person is worthless, because “the belief system of some two-thousand-year-old desert tribe didn’t care about being nice to gay people”. We routinely get messages telling us our church sign is wrong.

Anyone can spout talking points about this; but wisdom is vindicated by her deeds. [cf. Matthew 11:19]

I’m going to tell you about Jesus today; how he lived, and what he taught. For me, there is something powerfully relatable about the shape of Jesus’ life; not just as a person of faith, but as a queer person. I want to talk about how Jesus’ story resembles, in many ways, nothing so much as a queer life — with all the upheaval, scandal, and confounding of expectations that implies.

I’m certainly not saying that Jesus was gay, or trans, or intersex. Queer is a more expansive term than that, and is a much more immediately transgressive term; it’s a term, quite honestly, that is still very much connected to its origins as a term of abuse. While it can refer to anyone who experiences homophobia or transphobia, it carries with it a connotation of a way of being that goes against the grain; a state of being not quite one thing and not quite another.

But, fair warning: its use is sometimes quite contentious, even discouraged, within the wider LGBTQ+ community, especially when used by people who would not consider themselves “queer”. I’m using it today, however, because I’m speaking from my own point of view.

Jesus is born as an ordinary peasant, the son of a teenage mother and a carpenter — you know the story. He lives under military occupation by the Roman Empire, which has annexed all the best land; demands punitive taxes to build palaces in fortified seaport towns; has taken over the Jerusalem Temple, hiring and firing high priests at will, and doesn’t hesitate to violently crush any sign of dissent.

But as Jesus grows up, he starts to realize that he is called to be something different, something that will disturb the very fabric of the society that he lives in. He finds community through John the Baptist, a strange, wild figure who has quite a following, mostly among the more downtrodden parts of society — and through John he gets initiated into a new kind of life, a new way of being.

Then, Jesus begins to get noticed. Imagine the young Jesus, certainly no older than I am now, speaking in the synagogues all across the countryside of Galilee. And when he gets to his hometown of Nazareth, he stands in front of all his family and friends and begins to read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives … to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.” … The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:18-21)

This reads, to me, like a coming-out narrative. Because Jesus immediately follows up this seemingly empowering message with a bunch of uncomfortable truths that they don’t want to hear — namely, by citing the story of the prophet Elijah to make the point that God works from the margins of society, and plants the seeds of prophecy and change from the bottom up. “No prophet is accepted in their own country,” declares Jesus — and the congregation who had just minutes before said “Wow! This kid is going places! Joseph, isn’t this your son?” turn around and try to run him out of town.

There is something else here that the gospels aren’t quite obvious about. Jesus is giving up his place in the family structure that bound Judean culture together; striking out on his own, all the way to the raggedy edge — to share his message of healing and justice and resilience in the face of Roman occupation with those whom his people would have considered foreigners and outcasts.

It’s almost certain that Joseph assumed that Jesus would come of age and take on his father’s trade, inheriting his tools and going to work as a day labourer in Roman construction projects. All of a sudden, that’s not going to happen — because Jesus has fallen in with a very strange crowd; he’s been influenced by these people, and has come back home full of uncanny zeal and radical ideas.

I can imagine all too well the sight of Mary grieving for the image of the son she loved, who she assumed would grow up, settle down, and have children of his own — but all of a sudden he’s someone different; someone or something that can’t quite be contained. I can imagine this all too well because my own mother, my own father, have both gone through this.

But as it turns out, Jesus had discovered — he had understood, had even begun to embody — a kind of love that had never been thought possible; a kind of love that was so radical and so powerful that a lot of folks outright rejected it. The people in power certainly weren’t into it.

This is a kind of story that should absolutely resonate with queer folks like me, because we have a very similar experience — with and through each other. The dawning realization that we are meant for a different kind of life; something which not everyone can understand, but which we suddenly realize is beautiful. That moment when you see someone else, in person or in the media, who embodies an indescribable feeling that you have kept tucked away inside of you for your entire life.

Isn’t it possible that those ordinary semi-literate fishermen, Peter and Andrew and James and John, had a similar experience — seeing something in Jesus that was so powerful, so compelling, that they couldn’t help but respond when he said “follow me”?

We queer people know a kind of love that wrenches us out of the closet and into the sunlight; a kind of love that makes us feel beautiful and strong and valued in a way that no other love has before; a love that opens our hearts to weep at the injustices done to our queer siblings, our trans siblings, our Two-Spirit siblings throughout history;

A love that can make us fearless, so that no catcalling, no misgendering, no homophobic preaching, no gay-bashing, no parental rejection can dissuade us from living out the kind of love to which we are called; the ways of being that upset cultural assumptions and power structures that most of us take as fact.

The love that took root in Jesus’ movement was one that breached walls and broke down borders; that reached across ancient religious schisms — such as the one between the Judeans and the Samaritans, who wouldn’t even speak to each other; that uplifted and empowered women; that extended all the way to the Ethiopian eunuch in the book of Acts — who would have been considered not only foreign, but ritually unacceptable as a person! — to heal and unify and plant the seeds of distributive justice through small, beautiful, subversive actions. And it didn’t stop there.

Near the end of the Gospel of Matthew, some of the Roman-backed chief priests and elders come up to Jesus and start questioning him. But he takes the wind out of their sails by telling them a parable:

“What do you think? A man had two sons [keep in mind that in a lot of Bible stories, the second son is the underdog who comes out on top]; he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ He answered, ‘I will not’; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, ‘I go, sir’; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the [sex workers] are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.” (Matthew 21:28-31)

(Look at it this way; at least no one can accuse me of not being Bible-based.)

That passage is a proverbial smoking gun; of all the sayings in the Gospels, it’s the one that is still immediately subversive to us today. But it’s true, Jesus explains, because there’s one thing that the most stigmatized, most down-and-out people in society have that the respectable folks who actually obey the traffic laws and run the Temple don’t — and that is, a thirst for hope and meaning and healing, and a reason to imagine that another world is possible.

So, I’ll say it right now: I am not going into ministry to uphold the stability of the mainline church in its current form. I am going into ministry in the hope that I can help make the church into a refuge, where everyone has the opportunity and the tools to heal and thrive and care for one another; where this transformative divine love is as present and as accessible as the air we breathe.

I believe that I am called, among other things, to be a minister to and for my queer and trans siblings, for my radical siblings; to be an instrument of disorientation and reorientation and renewal and healing for the wounds that the church at large has inflicted by confusing white heteronormative Western social conventions with the actual, radical teachings of christianity.

Because how many queer and transgender children have been turned away, just like Jesus was run out of his hometown, by parents and communities and churches who don’t understand them?

I think what Jesus says to his own people later on in the Gospel of Matthew is something he might say to my radical queer siblings, and to the church that has historically rejected them, today:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children [— your queer and trans and non-binary children —] together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you, desolate.” (Matthew 23:37-38)

Because the great tragedy here is that that vital, transcendent love should have been the church’s stock in trade all along. We, the church, have the capacity and the knowledge to reach back to our radical, counter-cultural roots and throw people a lifeline of meaning and hope and healing in a tempest-tossed world — but in the eyes of far too many, we are still at best a bastion of the status quo.

I’ve connected with some wonderful radical theological people through the internet; one particular person, by the name of Jane Nichols — a remarkable lesbian trans woman who just completed her master’s degree in theology — says it better than I ever could:

[O]ur stance towards exclusionary theology should not be ‘well, actually, if we look in the Bible, we can see that it never actually forbids being gay,’ but instead, ‘how dare [we] presume to limit God’s love? What blasphemous arrogance could have possibly led [us] to where [we ended up]? When did [we] start worshipping [our] own image in place of the Divine?’ (Jane Nichols, Tumblr post, May 2019)

Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.

Where I have found the Holy Spirit alive and well and pushing the envelope is on the margins of almost every sphere. Most immediately, I encounter it in the deep insight and vulnerability of the women clergy members in my life — and most recently, I have seen it spring to life in the passion and brilliance and vision of the lesbian and queer women clergy with whom I was privileged to commune on the sidelines of the former Maritime Conference.

By the way — Jesus’ story is hardly the only one that’s relatable to queer and trans people like us. The Bible is replete with stories of transformation, of coming into new identity and purpose, even gender-ambiguity, if you know where — and how — to look.

Yes, queer people — LGBTQ+ people — and Christians, followers of Jesus, can and should get along. Yes, queer people can be Christian, and Christians can be queer; and yes, we can and should learn from one another!

Because we have a remarkable common ground — a remarkable birthright:

We are called to go against the grain; to challenge the basic patterns in which our societies operate, and to embrace a new and powerful kind of love;

a love that reshapes the way we think about ourselves, a love that beckons us to healing and renewal, a love that calls us to take action and cry out for justice, a love that is itself a radical way of being; a love that is potentially more beautiful and more life-giving than the power structures of this world are ready to understand.

Amen.

June 2, 2019 — St. Andrew’s United Church, Halifax

#tamsin writes #tamsin sermonizes #queer christianity #transgender christians #anti-oppressive christianity #reclaiming christianity #rethinking theology #uccan #uccan pride #long post

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sinsiriuslyemo · 6 years

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Here’s some more of these two for you today. Both of them wary, each for a different reason, but they both decide to open up to each other with the hope that they’ll find a soulmate in the other. Will they have smooth sailing? Or will their respective insecurities eventually catch up with them?

Tagging: @bullet-prooflove, @delia26, @ghostofachancewithyou, @whiterose2664, @blown-transistor, @esparza-army, @mikeydodds, @southern-magnolia

6. Trust Is A Big Word

Every morning for the last two weeks, they’d met up for breakfast at the cafe next to Gristedes, and every night after work, Rafael would forgo his usual stop at Forlini’s and would go to the Skat Cat instead. He opted to begin sitting at a table closer to the piano instead of at the bar to finish his work while he listened to Sebastian play. Afterward the musician would walk him to his building and kiss him goodnight.

The ADA found himself realizing that he loved the fact that Sebastian was his first and last encounter every day. Every time the pianist smiled at him, he felt as warm as if he were wrapped in large, fluffy blankets and everything in the world was wonderful. It occurred to him how incredibly clichè it was, that whenever he looked into the musician’s eyes it felt as though they’d known each other before somehow. Being raised Catholic, he remembered once reading about an early church writer who believed that souls existed in heaven before being born and Sebastian made him believe that may have been true after all. That somehow their souls had known one another and just now found each other once more.

As he walked down the sidewalk towards the subway, Rafael could feel the familiar tickle in his belly and a grin slowly spread on his face when he caught sight of Sebastian waiting for him in front of the entrance to the subway with a blanket and a large blue body pillow tucked under his arm. Rafael’s stomach did somersaults and he could feel the point in his neck throbbing as though there was someone pounding on a bass drum beneath his skin.

“You brought the blanket,” he said as he finally reached the musician. “And a pillow.”

“Of course. Well, we wanna be comfortable, right? And, you know, I gotta be sure you don’t get any grass stains on those khakis,” Sebastian replied with a grin as he gestured to the ADA’s pants. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you outta your work clothes. I like casual Rafael.”

Smiling back, he stepped up to Sebastian for a kiss, humming when their lips met. “Well, then you can look forward to seeing him more often.”

“I like the sound of that,” the pianist replied, kissing the prosecutor again.

“I wasn’t sure what you like for snacks so I brought sweet and salty,” Rafael replied, holding up a grocery bag. “There’s some juice in here too.”

The pianist grinned and nodded as he reached for Rafael’s hand, fingers lacing naturally between his before the pair descended the stairs to reach the subway platform.

“Did you have a good day?” Rafael asked as they waited for the train.

“Yeah,” Sebastian answered. “Went to visit a friend this morning and then worked on another song.”

“How’s that going?”

“Not bad,” the musician answered. “Seems the inspiration is coming pretty easy for me these days.”

Rafael smirked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, grinning back. “Wonder how that happened, huh?” His hand came up to comb through Rafael’s hair.

“I’m glad you’ve been able to make progress, whether or not I’ve had anything to do with it,” the ADA replied.

“I think you have,” the pianist mumbled.

A sudden gust of wind blew over them as the train pulled into the station and the pair stepped into the cart, taking a couple of open seats by a window. The ride into Brooklyn took half the time Rafael had anticipated for a Saturday night, not that he was complaining except that he would’ve wanted to sit so close to Sebastian much longer than the thirty minutes to Owl’s Head Park.

Despite his knowledge of New York City’s vast population, Rafael couldn’t help but be in awe at the crowd of people gathered in the park for a viewing of the 1977 Neil Simon classic. The screen was erected on the far side of the park, behind it he could see the empire state building in the midst of the Manhattan skyline. It was incredibly romantic despite the crowd and casual setting.

“Wow,” he mused as he let Sebastian lead him to an open space where they spread their blanket and set the pillow down. “This is so beautiful.”

Sebastian grinned as they both laid down on the blanket, their shoulders touching. “Yeah, it’s something, isn’t it? How often can you watch a movie with this kinda view of the city?”

Looking over at the musician, Rafael smiled. “I’ve actually never been to an outdoor screening.”

“Well, I am glad to give you your first experience,” Sebastian replied with a grin. “Outdoor movies are the best, you can bring in whatever you want for snacks, we’re in a nice, open space, plenty of room to kick back, no sticky floors.”

“It is nice,” Rafael agreed. “And definitely welcomed after the week I’ve had.”

Sebastian frowned. “Is it that case with Jolene what’s-her-face?”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s all over the news,” Sebastian answered.

“Yeah,” Rafael answered in a sigh. “I just can’t get the image of Michad Carter outta my head. Sixteen years old, he was just walking home for God’s sake. He was a good kid, honor student. And her story about what happened that night just...doesn’t add up and now a boy is dead, a family is completely shattered.”

“You gonna charge her?”

“Absolutely. How could I not? She shot an unarmed sixteen-year-old boy and killed him. What kind of message does it send if I just let it go?” Rafael replied. “She didn’t fear for her life, she shot him because he was black and in her mind that meant he was up to no good. That’s not self-defense.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Sebastian said.

“She has a good lawyer,” the ADA mused in a sigh. “It’s a case that relies on credibility, only my victim can’t be cross-examined. The media circus is in full force.”

“If anybody can win the case, you can,” Sebastian replied.

Rafael smirked and arched a brow at him. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. Anybody that can get me to finish a song after seven years can do anything in my book,” Sebastian answered, smiling when he saw a pink hue grow on Rafael’s cheeks. “When’s the trial?”

Rafael blew a huff of air through his mouth, cheeks puffing out with the effort. “Opening arguments begin Monday at nine am.”

“I’ll be there,” Sebastian replied. “I’ll even bring the coffee.”

“You just hoping for a front row seat to the scandal?” Rafael asked with a snort. He hadn’t been able to help the response, most of the people who had taken an interest in the case were either protesters or hungry for the story. “I’m sorry, I--”

“--No, it’s okay,” Sebastian said. “No agenda, I just wanna be there for you, that’s all.”

Smirking thankfully at the musician, Rafael nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Sebastian said, smiling back and gesturing with his chin to the snacks. “So, what do you think? Movies probably gonna start soon. We gonna bust those snacks open or do we wanna wait until Richard Dreyfuss starts pulling down Marsha Mason’s underwear from the shower rod?”

Rafael laughed again. “Sure. Why don’t start with salty snacks?” He began to rifle through the grocery bag he’d brought and pulled out a bag of pretzels.

“Oh that’s good, yeah the salty for when they’re pissed at each other and then we can dig into the sweets when they start to fall in love, that’s perfect,” Sebastian replied, earning another chuckle from the prosecutor.

“Sounds good to me. I didn’t know what kind of juice you liked, so I got pineapple and apple.”

“Pineapple, please,” the musician answered, smiling thankfully when Rafael handed him the drink. “You doing anything for Halloween?”

“Well, assuming there isn’t a case to keep me at the office, dodging the trick-or-treaters in my building,” Rafael answered with a smirk.

“Dodging trick or treaters, huh?” Sebastian asked in a chuckle. “You got a kid phobia or something?”

“No, I like kids just fine, it’s just that Halloween night is notorious for pranks and general mischief among the, uh, youths of today’s generation,” Rafael answered.

Laughing again, Sebastian took a sip from his juice. “Alright, fair enough. So why don’t you come over to my place?” He looked up to find the ADA arching a brow at him and the musician blushed as he shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “No, listen, the front door is next to a bar, not too many kids think to check for an apartment. I never get trick or treaters, so you won’t have to listen to constant knocks on your door and screaming kids, high on a sugar rush all night.”

Turning the corners of his lips downward, Rafael nodded his head. “Okay.”

“Yeah? Be fun, we’ll order in, watch a scary movie, I’ll be there for you when you get scared--”

“--I don’t scare that easy,” Rafael said with a grin.

“Okay, so maybe you’ll be there for me when I get scared,” the musician replied.

The ADA laughed again, adjusting his shoulders until he was situated closer to the other man.

“I’ve actually never gone trick or treating,” Rafael mumbled.

“Really?” Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “Not even when you were a kid?”

Rafael sighed softly and shook his head. “No, we um…”

He always hesitated before revealing anything to personal about himself. A lifetime of having his trust broken had made him incredibly weary of everyone. It had taken months and much more confiding on her part for him to even begin opening up to Liv, if talking about Lauren Sullivan, a girl he’d been in love with in high school, could be considered opening up. Considering the fact that Liv had confided in him many times over, he doubted as much. Still, it had been the most he’d talked about himself with anyone in years.

If he opened up to Sebastian, a man that he’d met only a few weeks ago, it would be just because. While that would normally make him uneasy--to expose himself to a man he’d only been on a few dates with--whenever he looked into Sebastian’s eyes, he could see faint traces of the same jaded heart. Despite his initial instinct to finish his sentence with something vague, he took a deep breath and decided to take a chance.

“We didn’t have a lot when I was growing up. After the last time my father left, my mom and I moved in with my grandmother. They both worked to put food on the table. My mom as a secretary for the school principal in the South Bronx while she went to night school and my abuela cleaned apartments on the Upper East Side,” he said, swallowing as his shoulders began to tighten. “There wasn’t ever any left over for a Halloween costume, plus they were always so tired when they got home. So I just went without...I never really thought I was missing very much anyway.”

“Your mom went to night school?” Sebastian asked softly as he propped himself up on his elbow, facing Rafael.

Rafael nodded, keeping his eyes on the screen, which currently only displayed a still of Marsha Mason and Richard Dreyfuss. “Yeah, she started when I was ten. It took her until I got to law school, but now she runs a school in the Bronx.”

“That’s pretty amazing,” the pianist replied, offering the other man a soft smile. “She sounds like a hell of a woman.”

Hearing those words brought a smirk to Rafael’s face. “She is.” Clearing his throat, he finally looked over at the other man, rolling onto his side and settling into the same position, facing Sebastian. “What about your mom? You mentioned she worked at a diner when you were young.”

The musician nodded as he lowered his eyes and bit his bottom lip. “Uh, she died when I was 13.”

Rafael frowned and reached a hand to lay over Sebastian’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

The pianist offered a thankful half-smile. “Thank you. It was a long time ago, you know?”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Sebastian looked hesitant and the prosecutor gently moved his thumb back and forth along the musician’s knuckles. “She was walking home one night after her shift. She used to get off real late most nights--one, two in the morning. Anyway, the police said that some guy pulled her into an alleyway and shot her. That’s all I really know, to be honest.”

“Did they ever catch the guy?” Rafael asked in a gentle voice.

Sebastian shook his head. “No.”

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” Rafael whispered. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you to lose her at that age.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sebastian answered. “I got lucky though, you know? Our neighbor, Mrs Fitzgerald took me in so I didn’t have to go into foster care. She took care of me, like I was hers.”

“What about your father?”

The musician bobbed his shoulders. “I don’t know, he left when I was, like, two. I don’t remember him too much.” He cleared his throat gently as he looked up at Rafael and smiled half-heartedly. “I’ve never told anyone that story about my mom before.”

The ADA smirked back. “Why’d you tell me?”

Again Sebastian shrugged as he looked down, turning his hand to lace his fingers between Rafael’s and whispering, “I guess because I feel safe with you.”

The pianist swallowed and chewed on his bottom lip. Rafael could feel a faint tremble in the other man’s hand and leaned forward, stroking the musician’s hair until their eyes met again. Smirking softly at Sebastian, Rafael closed the space between them to press a kiss to the other man’s lips.

“You are,” Rafael whispered back, letting his forehead rest against Sebastian’s.

“So are you,” the musician replied as though he could sense the same hesitancy in Rafael. “You know trust is a…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s a big word. I get that.”

“Yes it is,” Rafael replied with a smirk as he nodded his head. Pursing his lips, he looked down at their joined hands and gently squeezed Sebastian’s fingers with his. “But I think I’m really ready to give it a try.”

“So am I,” the pianist answered.

Smiling and rolling onto his back, Rafael settled against the pillow they were sharing and moved his gaze to the large screen in front of them. He sighed contently when the pianist did the same, laying so that their shoulders were touching and carefully lacing their fingers again.

As they watched The Goodbye Girl play on the huge screen in the park, Rafael felt the weight of loneliness and hopelessness begin to lift from his shoulders. He didn’t just feel content to be in Sebastian’s company, he felt the most safe than he had in a long time.

#rafael barba x male #the prosecutor and the piano bar #rabastian

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kentonramsey · 3 years

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On Bridgerton, Underwear Is Crotchless & The Corsets Are Divine

Shonda Rhimes’ Netflix adaptation of Julia Quinn’s historical romance novels, titled Bridgerton, is en route to becoming one of this year’s most memorable TV fashion moments. The series, which premieres on December 25, is essentially a 19th-century version of Rhimes’ long-running show Grey’s Anatomy. Only, instead of scrubs, McSteamy — in this case, Simon Basset, played by Regé-Jean Page — wears a period waistcoat, and Meredith — here, Daphne Bridgerton, played by Phoebe Dynevor — a beaded, empire waist dress with an equally intricate corset underneath. In other words, everyone’s wildly attractive — and incredibly well-dressed.

For the series, Bridgerton costume designer Ellen Mirojnick — who designed looks for Fatal Attraction, Showgirls, The Greatest Showman, and Maleficent: Mistress of Evil — sought out experts in fabric cutting, jewellery, and corset design. “I had to really build a costume house and create everything because there wasn’t anything in the world that would satisfy what we set out to do,” Mirojnick tells Refinery29. And while you’re sure to be wowed by the pastel-coloured gowns and layers and layers of extravagant jewellery featured throughout the season’s eight-episode arc, it’s what’s underneath the dresses that really matters most.

Like Rhimes’ other shows, including Private Practice, How To Get Away With Murder, and Scandal, sex plays a big role in Bridgerton. It is, after all, based on a pulpy romance novel. Because of that, an equal amount of focus was placed on the characters’ undergarments as the glitzy pieces worn on top of them. One member of Mirojnick’s team was renowned corset maker Mr. Pearl, who was the designer behind Kim Kardashian’s Mugler look from the 2019 Met Gala. “He is magnificent,” says Mirojnick. To remain accurate, Mr. Pearl designed corsets in line with those worn in the early 1800s. (The show is set in the year 1813.)

“Women at that time were corseted women, even though their corsets were far less [intense] than they were in Victorian times,” says Mirojnick. In the early 1800s, women wore half-corsets, similar in length to a longline bra. During the Victorian era, in the mid- to late-1800s, women wore full-length corsets that created an hourglass figure, not unlike the one worn by Kardashian. “Their bosoms were to appear as though they were blossoming. It’s almost like the blossoms of your cheeks — rouged and desirable,” she says of the early 1800s. “The dresses are adorned so that women look beautiful [and catch the eye of a potential husband], but the focus is always on the bosom,” she says.

To remain true to the time period and give actors a costume that they could move and bend in, Mr. Pearl designed half-corsets for the series. “Of course, a corset will never be truly comfortable,” says Mirojnick. This is something that Nicola Coughlan, who plays Penelope Featherington on the show, confirms: “Taking off a corset at the end of the day just feels incredible. It’s a bra times 10,000. Your ribs are just like, Ah.”

In keeping with the times, Mirojnick also designed bloomers for the women to wear underneath their gowns — which were crotchless back in the day. Yes, crotchless. She goes on to say that, with the exception of corsets, the underwear worn in the time (which also included slips and petticoats) was quite simple compared to the lingerie worn today. “Sexiness came in real-life,” she says.

Though women were supposed to keep hold of their virtue until their wedding night, the fashion at the time was actually designed in a way that made it much easier for women to disrobe quickly — in the throws of passion, for instance — than men. “Men’s pants closed at the sides and had braces to keep them up. Women, however, just had to lift their skirts if they wanted to,” Mirojnick says.

According to Mirojnick, one of her primary goals for the costumes was to transport viewers to another world, one full of lavish parties, extravagant gowns, and, yes, luxury undergarments. “For all of us who love that romance novel type of sexy, Bridgerton allows our imagination to flourish — it transports you into a place that’s really very fun to watch, especially given the bleak times we’re living in,” she says. The designer, who’s worked with Rhimes on a number of different shows, was adamant about keeping with the “sauciness and sexiness” that the famed TV producer is known for. And after watching all eight episodes, one right after another, I can tell you with certainty that there’s no shortage of sauce in Bridgerton. With a wardrobe full of designer corsets and crotchless bloomers, how could there be?

Watch Bridgerton in full on Netflix, starting December 25.

Like what you see? How about some more R29 goodness, right here?

You Have 3 New Netflix Treats To Binge

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On Bridgerton, Underwear Is Crotchless & The Corsets Are Divine published first on https://mariakistler.tumblr.com/

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bangtan-spells · 7 years

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Namjoon Scenario: My Miss Right.

Request: I saw on twitter recently that on a fan's post it rapmon answered miss right to be his wedding song. Can i request a scenario of him proposing and using miss right? :)

Genre: Romance.

It was your first time going to New York city and you were excited to say the least, you have been dreaming about visiting the city for a long time so when your boyfriend came to you with the tickets you felt like screaming, laughing and crying from happiness. Namjoon knew how much you wanted it, and you were grateful for having such a wonderful present, you’d have to make a few sacrifices for him to not pay absolutely everything, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t the first time that you traveled with Namjoon, although this being your first long trip, you had taken already a few other escapades, most of them around Korea, one to Thailand and other to Philippines which you had loved. Nevertheless coming to New York felt different, maybe because you had been wanting it for such a long time, but also because you were taking a step further with Namjoon. You had almost four years of relationship and honestly you couldn’t possibly imagine to know a person who you could love and understand more than him, so doing this trip with him felt right, fulfilling one of your most longed dreams felt amazing being with him.

You arrived at a pretty good hotel in Manhattan, just a couple of blocks from Time Square, it was spring so the day was great to walk and get to know the city, Namjoon had come to New York his fair share of times before, so he served as a good guide to not get lost. Right from the start you wanted to see everything, of course you wanted to go to the typical touristy points but you also wanted to just be around the city, walk and see the streets and the buildings, enjoy the bagels and the on the go coffee.

You went to get to know the Liberty Statue and the Empire State Building, you went to the Rockefeller Center and enjoyed half a day at the MoMA. New York was everything you had dreamed of and more. Your next step was Central Park, a place you absolutely couldn’t miss and that Namjoon was eager to visit as well.

-It’s beautiful jagiya, you’ll see, but you had to be very attentive of all the spots in there-

You smiled. -Of course I will silly, and we will be on a carriage I mean, how cool is that?-

Namjoon smiled as he came closer to the carriage tours and he saw the guy he was looking for, he had already planned everything so it was important that it was him doing the tour. It was important that everything went according to plan, the trip until now had been wonderful and you were happy, Namjoon wanted that to continue that way, he wanted to make you happy for the rest of your life.

He was nervous, you were looking beautiful in a mid length flower dress and ankle boots, Namjoon just couldn’t stop thinking about what he was going to do around twenty minutes from now and how that could change your lives, his heart was racing wondering if this was the right way to do it or if it was too much, so much he almost fell off the carriage as he was getting on it, you were already sitting but at seeing him losing his balance you giggled and rushed to help him. Namjoon regained his equilibrium and thanked the universe he didn’t fall, if he did the little box in his pocket would have fallen out and then he would have ruined his plans.

The ride started, the driver pointed out a few facts about the park as the horse pulled you to movement, but you didn’t pay much attention to it besides hearing the names of the places, you were entranced trying to snap a few pictures and enjoying Namjoon’s arm around you as he also whispered little things about the scenery.

You passed by the pond, in which you saw the bridge that featured in so many movies, you thought that it should be good coming together and actually go there for a picture, you saw what it was supposed to be the Woolmark Rink, but that since you were in spring it was transformed into the “Victorian Gardens” which was odd since it seemed more like a little fair than anything else, either way it was pretty and there were a lot of people coming and going from it, as you passed by the zoo and the driver pointed out which were the best days in which you could come you saw something that grabbed your attention.

A man was standing almost in the middle of the road with a huge “W” placard in his hands, you frowned when he saw you and gave you the thumbs up.

-Such a weird guy- you whispered to Namjoon who looked a little pale. -Are you alright babe?-

He nodded. -Yes, just… a bit hot in here suddenly-

You giggled. -That’s because I’m so close- you said while grabbing his thigh making him laugh.

-Y/N, naugthy Y/N, pay attention to the ride-

You laughed again. -Alright, but if you feel dizzy we can stop, seriously-

Namjoon shook his head, he was fine, only a bit scandalized that that guy had done that almost blowing off the plan. -It’s ok-

You were truly loving Central Park but as you passed through more iconic points you saw more and more people with placards with letters, after the other man, you saw an old woman holding an “I” and then two girls with two big “L”s on their hands.

-Is there an event here today?- you asked the driver who nodded.

-There are always special events here in Central Park, specially in spring months, today there’s one-

-Wow- you smiled to Namjoon. -You wanna go to one of those?-

-I think we will- he answered.

You were admiring another of the typical scenarios of Central Park called The Mall, lined by elm trees and statues of famous authors, when you started to hear a well known melody, you turned your head to Namjoon who was looking around like he too was surprised.

-Babe! Someone is playing Miss Right!-

He laughed and hid his face which made you look oddly at him but then when you saw around there was a child sitting on a bench with his mother, only that he was holding a big “Y” in his hand and later on another bench you saw a lady holding one with an “O” and a few meters away there was a really tall guy holding a “U” so everyone could see it.

It was too much coincidence for you to not think about it, the people, the letters, the song and Namjoon’s giddy attitude, you looked at him once again, your boyfriend was smiling like a dork and did everything possible to not look in your direction.

-Namjoon, babe-

-Here is the Band Shell, also seen in a lot of Hollywood movies- the driver said distracting you from your boyfriend.

There was a group of teenagers with band instruments that at the sight of the beautiful white hose turned around and held two letters up high, an “M” and an “A”, the song continued playing although you didn’t know where it came from, it was only the melody, you noticed, but it was making your heart pound and your imagination run wild.

After the Band Shell you realized the song was on repeat and someone must have been following you because it hadn’t stopped in a while.

-Namjoon, what…?-

-Enjoy the ride jagiya- he said calmly kissing your hand. You breathed in watching around you, you were approaching now a wide space with sights to the lake, a big fountain dominated the place and all around there was people taking pictures and enjoying themselves, a couple looked your way and they picked up two more letters, after reading them you felt your eyes getting watery, although you tried to contain yourself, you could know what came after the “M” and the “A”. You only passed in front of the fountain so you couldn’t really admire how beautiful it was and at the moment you didn’t think you could have.

After that you started to go up a hill, it was greener here, but as you went on you saw the pop of color that the cherry trees offered, in spring they were in full bloom and the pink made you smile and almost laugh in happiness, you felt giddy too, you felt like you were in a dream. On the hill you saw people laying around sunbathing, others having picnics, but you also saw three, a couple with a child that held three letters, “R”,”R” and “Y”, they smiled your way and the little kid waved as you passed them.

-Namjoon you…-

-Wait baby- he muttered and then you really started hearing the song, Miss Right with lyrics included, your boyfriend’s deep voice echoing throughout the space. The carriage stopped on the top of the hill, a circle scope with a fountain in the middle.

You realized then that your legs were trembling and your words were stuck in your throat, so quietly you let Namjoon help you off the carriage, taking your hand he walked closer to the fountain.

Hoseok’s part was starting and you bit your lips to not laugh and cry at the same time. Namjoon, who had his eyes on you, let out a little laugh and squeezed your hand.

-Your life, your heart, your face, your line, Y/N, I can’t put into words how much you mean to me, in the time we have been together we have gone through a lot, every obstacle I’ve had you had been there to hold my hand and help me through the way, every obstacle you’ve had you’ve let me give you my whole support, you shine in my life brightest than Seoul or New York City, you embrace me as I do with you for everything you are, what we truly are, you are my energy, my life wouldn’t be the same if you are not in it, Y/N, my miss right-

He took a step back letting go of your hand as you gasped for air and felt the tears scape your eyes. Namjoon went down on one knee and looked up at you with his big smile and cute dimples while he took a little black box from his pocket, you loved him, and you loved him so much and everything that had happened today, it felt like a dream, this man could make you feel like dreams could come true, like you could really feel what happiness was like. You loved him and you wanted to keep doing it for the rest of your life.

-Would you make me the happiest man in the world, marry me?-

You gasped softly again and nodded, you hadn’t even seen the ring properly, so you turned your eyes to it as he slid it on your finger, a bit squarish and shinny, it sparkled with the rays of the sun that shone above you. Namjoon stood up and his arms surrounded you. -Yes, yes, yes- you said over and over again as he kissed you. His lips moving tenderly on top of yours as he rocked you but you had to stop since both of you started to laugh.

-This is… Kim Namjoon, the most romantic thing in the world, I’m…- you shook your head and he laughed again.

-I’m happy you liked it-

-I loved it, every single second of today, I love it, I love you Namjoon-

-I love you too Y/N, my future Mrs Kim, my miss right-

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newsnigeria · 6 years

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Check out New Post published on Ọmọ Oòduà

New Post has been published on http://ooduarere.com/news-from-nigeria/world-news/crash-course-anti-semitism/

A Crash Course on the True Causes of “Anti-Semitism”, part II: the hunt for anti-Semites

[This article was written for the Unz Review]

First, anti-Semites everywhere!

It has been over a year since I wrote an article entitled “A Crash Course on the True Causes of “Anti-Semitism “. I tried to illustrate how the kind of ideology and worldview of what ought to be called Rabbinical Phariseeism but is, alas, usually referred to as “Orthodox Judaism,” results in an inevitable hostile backlash from those whom this ideology and worldview even deny the status of “human being.” Today, I want to do something a little different: look at a political tactic which appears to give Jews a very desirable position but which in reality places them all at risk: the use of the accusation of “anti-Semitism” on practically anybody who dares to be critical of anybody and anything Jewish. The following recent headline on RT was what inspired me to discuss this issue:

Trump accused of anti-Semitism over claim Soros funds ‘elevator screamers.’

I won’t take up space here by quoting the article at length so please check it out on the original RT page. Here is just a short excerpt:

Critics of US President Donald Trump were quick to accuse him of anti-Semitism over a tweet claiming that women accosting senators over Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh were paid by liberal billionaire George Soros. “The very rude elevator screamers are paid professionals only looking to make Senators look bad. Don’t fall for it!” Trump tweeted on Friday. “Also, look at all of the professionally made identical signs. Paid for by Soros and others. These are not signs made in the basement from love!” Outrage ensued, obviously. ThinkProgress, the media arm of John Podesta’s Center for American Progress think tank, immediately accused the president of anti-Semitism. A Slate editor chimed in, calling Trump’s words an “anti-Semitic dog whistle.” And a staff writer for The Atlantic called it a “conspiracy theory that a rich Jewish boogeyman is making women claim to have been raped and assaulted.”

I have no idea why the RT reporter wrote that outrage ensued “obviously,” but let’s first note that none of those who accuse Trump of anti-Semitism makes any effort to explain why exactly Trump’s words are anti-Semitic.

[Sidebar: I know, “anti-Semitism” is a misleading and basically meaningless notion. In this article “What is Antisemitism” Michael Neumann how this already ambiguous and misleading concept became fundamentally meaningless (he concluded his analysis by saying “the real scandal today is not antisemitism but the importance it is given”). I will be using this term only because it is so widely used by Jewish organizations to discredit pretty much all those who dare to express a critical thought.]

Think Progress simply tweeted this: “Trump tweets out anti-Semitic conspiracy theory about George Soros.” Here we have a classical double-whammy: anti-Semitism, of course, but also a “conspiracy theory.” We will come back to this conceptual pair.

But first, the basics.

Is there any doubt at all that Soros sponsors all kind of protests in many different countries including the USA?

Let’s check the hyper-politically correct and doubleplusgoodthinking Wikipedia and see what we find there. In the 6th paragraph of the introduction to Soros’ entry, we see the following sentence:

“Soros is a well-known supporter of American progressive and American liberal political causes, to which he dispenses donations through his foundation, the Open Society Foundations.”

Really?! Not only does Wikipedia unambiguously state that Soros is sponsoring various US progressive and liberal causes, but he has also even created a special foundation to do that. Does this entry mean that Wikipedia is also part of an anti-Semitic campaign and is spreading conspiracy theories? Did Trump not say precisely the same thing as Wikipedia when he tweeted about “screamers are paid professionals” and “professionally made identical signs? Paid for by Soros and others”? It sure looks to me that Trump and Wikipedia are saying the exact same thing, yet one gets accused of being anti-Semitic while the other is left in peace. Why? Besides, what Trump said is really something which is common knowledge and which is not even denied by Soros himself. Even better, the “elevator screamers” themselves don’t even deny it either.

And yet, in spite of that, the Daily Beast says that “Trump goes full conspiracy nut” while the Deputy Washington Editor of The New York Times, Jonathan Weisman tweeted that “I’m sorry but the “Soros is paying them” trope from the president of the United States is … wow” and then proceeded to plug his book (((Semitism))) Being Jewish in American in the Age of Trump. That book was enthusiastically endorsed by The Washington Post: (“a passionate call to arms”), the Jewish Book Council: (“Could not be more important or timely”) and the inevitable Bernard-Henri Lévy: (“It would be wonderful if anti-Semitism was a European specialty and stopped at the border with the United States. Alas, this is not the case”).

Wait!

How do you go from “professional elevator screamers” to anti-Semitism?!

Trump says something which is both undeniable and actually undenied, and that somehow makes him a conspiracy nut and an anti-Semite and that, in turn, is supposed to suggest to us that Jews are in great peril in the USA (“call to arms” + “could not be more important”).

Does that make any sense to you at all?!

Trump is accused of being an anti-Semite because he had the nerve to actually openly state an undisputed fact. More specifically, Trump is guilty not just of stating an undisputed fact, but of stating an undisputed fact in reference to a Jew (hence the specific accusation of anti-Semitism and not of some other form of crimethink). But since Wikipedia and Soros himself pretty much say the same thing as Trump, albeit in a more educated way, what is the problem?

Setting aside the fact that Trump has proven to be the best shabbos-goy the Likud ever had (just his move of the US embassy to occupied Jerusalem was an act of truly abject servility to Israel), let’s deconstruct what is really going on here.

I submit that for all the official propaganda, everybody knows that free speech in the AngloZionist Empire is strictly limited: in the European colonies by means of fines and incarceration and in the USA by means of political hysterics. The methods are different (no First Amendment in Europe!) but the goal is the same: to smear, discredit and eventually silence the crimethinkers.

Let us look at two examples:

Next, anti-anti-Semites everywhere

First, check out this article about “conspiracy theories” in which the author writes: (emphasis added)

The term “conspiracy theory” is used to describe any theory that attempts to characterize observed events as the result of some secret conspiracy. The term is often used dismissively, implying that the theory is implausible. Although conspiracy theories (particularly aimed at Jews and Bankers) date back hundreds of years, the earliest usage of “conspiracy theory” does not always have this connotation, although the theories are quite often dismissed in other ways. Usually, it’s simply a way of identifying the theory from other theories – as in “the theory that happens to have a conspiracy.”

Therefore, since discussing Jews and Bankers is a typical “conspiracy theory” and since the term “conspiracy theory” is often used dismissively, implying that it is implausible, it is therefore implausible that Jews and bankers would have any special political or historical importance. But if this is so implausible, why are such theories particularly aimed at Jews and bankers and not at Buddhists and bakers? Where is the logic here?

The second example is from an article entitled “Holocaust denial and 9/11 “Truth”: Two crappy tastes that taste crappy together” which clearly states: (emphasis added)

Holocaust denial fits into the 9/11 “Truth” movement hand-in-glove. Think about it. Whenever you see claims by 9/11 Truthers that there was some sort of “conspiracy” to bring down the World Trade Center towers, who is inevitably part of the conspiracy in the paranoid vision of the “Truth” movement? Well, there’s usually the U.S. government, but almost invariably the Mossad is said to be involved. Yep, the Jews.

This is interesting. Let’s assume that 9/11 truthers mostly think that Israel was involved in the 9/11 false flag (I certainly believe that!), how does that in any way imply that “the Jews” did something wrong or, even more so, the denial of the so-called “Holocaust”?! Furthermore, how does reaching the basic and inevitable conclusions implied by high-school level Newtonian physics about WTC 7 in any way indicate that somebody is paranoid? Maybe the label of “paranoid” ought to be applied to everybody not trusting the government?

Would it not be much more fitting to apply the term “paranoid” to those who manage to jump from “paid elevator screamers” to anti-Semitism or from doubts about 9/11 to Holocaust denial? I think that the paranoid nutcases are the anti-anti-Semites who are constantly doing two very dangerous things:

1) strenuously denying obvious and well-known facts

2) accusing anybody capable of critical thought of being an anti-Semite

Make no mistake, those still capable of critical thought will challenge the official narratives about 9/11 or about the “Holocaust”. I would even argue that any good and interesting history book will always be revisionist, at least to some degree. Good historiography should always challenge widely accepted beliefs, should it not?

In a mentally sane and politically free society challenges to the official 9/11 conspiracy theory (because, make no mistake, the official fairy tale about 9/11 is quite literally a “conspiracy theory” and a most unlikely and most implausible one!) or to the official narrative about the “Holocaust” should be treated just like the “no moon landing” or “flat earth” or any other theory which should be discussed on its merits and not treated as a form of egregious and evil crimethink. Alas, as we all know, this is far from being the case today.

Personally, I don’t blame “the Jews” for this state of affairs, if only because I don’t even use a category like “the Jews” which I consider to be meaningless. However, I do lay the blame for this situation on organized Jewry; that is, the main Jewish/Zionist organizations who by their constant efforts to place such utterly ridiculous limits on free speech (and even free thought!) create a world in which two main camps struggle against each other:

First, the doubleplusgoodthinkers who are fully zombified by the mass media and who have fully internalized all the characteristics of the doublethink Orwell described in his book 1984: these brainwashed zombies can fully accept and believe two mutually contradictory things with no cognitive dissonance whatsoever.

Second, the crimethinkers who dare to doubt the official views about any topic and who, once they realize that they have been lied to about almost anything which matters, distrust and even challenge those ideas which are the most widely and systematically propagandized.

Of course, this state of affairs is bad for non-Jews, but it is even much worse for Jews because it creates an extremely dangerous mechanism: by rabidly enforcing such outrageous limits on free speech, Jewish organizations are profoundly alienating all those capable of independent thought. Even worse, once they start doubting one thing, e.g., the official narrative about 9/11, they inevitably wonder if they have been lied to in another matter, e.g., the “Holocaust.” In fact, what this pressure to conform to the official doxa of the day, the Zeitgeist if you wish, results in, is what I would call a “chain reaction of doubts,” including very unreasonable doubts. Let me give just one example:

After having read many books and articles about this topic, I find it extremely unlikely that the Nazis used gas chambers or crematoria in any large numbers. I would never presume to say that this “never” happened, but I personally don’t believe that this happened in any large numbers (this is why I consider the word “Holocaust,” which means “all/whole-burning,” a very misleading term). I also believe that the (quasi-obligatory) figure of 6 million is a vast exaggeration. Why? Because I read a lot about it, from both sides, and, frankly, the “revisionists” have much stronger arguments, both factual and logical.

However,

There is also no doubt in my mind at all that the Nazis were genocidal maniacs and self-worshiping racists who butchered millions of totally innocent people, including a very large number of Jews. I just believe that most of their victims were either murdered by the SS Einsatzgruppen or starved to death in various concentration camps (including many smaller, lesser known ones). Is that really less evil than using gas chambers or crematoria? I sure don’t think so. Neither do I think that four, three, two or even “just” one million murdered innocent is much better than six million. I know that there are many others out there who came to similar conclusions. But the problem is that there are also those who, once they began having doubts about gas chambers or crematoria, then decided the entire narrativeabout the “Holocaust” was one big lie and that no Jews at all were targeted or murdered by the Nazis.

My personal observation is that the vast majority of those who come to such a (completely unwarranted) conclusions are, indeed, Jew-hating folks who want to whitewash the Nazis and who would gladly parrot any inanity as long as it is somehow anti-Jewish or pro-Nazi. Not very smart, for sure, but it is nonetheless true that their hostility towards anything Jewish or their sympathies for the Nazis did not come out of nowhere but are a reaction to what they feel is the toxic and oppressive power of “the Jews” over their countries or society. Replace the “the Jews” with “Jewish and Zionist political organizations,” and they have a point, don’t they? One quick but honest look at US or French politics will immediately and easily confirm this.

Conclusion: anti-Semitism is something artificially kept alive

It seems to me that Jewish/Zionist organizations are apparently dead-set on creating as many enemies as possible or, at least, to alienate as many thinking people as possible. I can see how a rabid Zionist would find such a situation helpful for the Aliyah, but is it really good for the Jewish people? I very much doubt it.

The same goes for the mindset which makes any criticism of Soros or of Jewish bankers into a manifestation of anti-Semitism? Again, great for the Aliyah I suppose, but it is good for regular Jewish people? What about applying the label of “nutcase” to all those who dare to question an official theory? In the bad old days of the Soviet Union quite a few “dissidents” were declared suffering from “slowly-progressing schizophrenia” (вялотекущая шизофрения) by “official” psychiatrists and the “free and democratic world” was outraged (in spite of the fact that quite a few of these dissidents truly were suffering from mental issues). Is that profoundly different from placing the label of “nutcase” on somebody expressing doubts about an official theory?

What Jewish/Zionist organizations are trying to impose on the rest of the planet is a blanket immunity from any criticism for all Jews (except the “self-hating” ones, of course!) combined with a grim determination to crush anybody daring to oppose such plans.

The chances that most of the world will ever accept such mental shackles are virtually nil. What is much more likely is that the resistance to such efforts will grow, no doubt reported to the public as an “emergence of a new anti-Semitism” or something equally vapid. And at the end of the road, there will always be a powerful backlash against those who started it all. So what is the point?

I am left wondering whether all these Jewish/Zionist organizations are staffed merely by incompetent people, or whether creating more, not less, anti-Semitism might not be the *real* goal of these organizations.

Whatever may be the case, anti-Semitism is not something which “just exists.” It is something which must be rekindled over and over again. Left alone, it would just fizzle out.

The Saker

#Israel

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kentonramsey · 3 years

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