#like. my dude. we are on a ROCK in SPACE. life is absurd and very short

[redshoes-blues]

“Your gender isn’t real” we live on a rock that is catapulting through space in an ever-expanding, possibly infinite universe

#aka: it’s insane and wondrous that we’re here at all and mother fuckers are out here whining about people’s genders. lol #like. my dude. we are on a ROCK in SPACE. life is absurd and very short #and you’re really gonna spend yours pissed about me being genderfluid? lmao #also my gender is planet being flung through the ever-expanding universe. if you even care #gender #genderfluid #trans stuff

[adultswim2021]

Ephemera Week (2002)

It’s still ephemera week, and we’re still talking about John K. I said most of my piece on him in the last post, so don’t expect there to go full bore on this one, except I forgot to say he’s animation’s Jerry Lewis. His current stuff is basically Hardly Working. I will not elaborate, because I’m being mean to you0.

MARCH SPECIALS!

In March, Adult Swim advertised a run of one-off specials. A couple of them were already covered because they fell under the parameters of “Adult Swim original production”. They were Welcome to Eltingville (March 3rd) and Saddle Rash (March 24th).

Day in the Life of Ranger Smith | March 10th 2002 - 11:00 PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

This was one of two specials commissioned by Cartoon Network re-imagining Yogi Bear. The artist what took this assignment was John K, who I REEEAALLY skewered in last night’s post, didn’t I?

This is about Ranger Smith harassing animals and writing them up for violating park rules, basically. It’s short! I remember liking it at the time! Okay, maybe I’m going crazy here, but I distinctly remembered a part at the end where Ranger Smith is in bed and he solemnly confides in the viewer that the noises of wilderness give him nightmares and then it just ends. Did I imagine this? It does end with him in bed, but this doesn’t happen in the version on YouTube (which is from the Adult Swim airing). Huh.

Boo Boo Runs Wild | March 10th 2002 - 11:15PM (Originally aired on Cartoon Network in 1999)

Boo Boo Runs Wild was another one of these stand-alone Yogi Bear John K specials. This one was 30 minutes long. The Ranger Smith short was a brief 7 minutes; I’m guessing they aired a couple Capt. Lingers or something to fill time.

This one is about Boo Boo reverting to his feral nature and causing BIIIIG problems! This special would later go on to be kind of a weird trolling thing Adult Swim would do where they aired it every Sunday for a few months, even promoting regularly. This was like 2006, I think? They’d also air it as part of April Fools. Is that Adult Swim admitting this special sorta sucks? Does it sorta suck? Again, I liked these at the time and REFUSED to actively rewatch these for this write-up. Sorry.

The Jetsons: Father and Son Day/The Best Son | March 10th, 2002 11:45PM (Originally aired on CartoonNetwork.com in 2001) Our John K rock block ends with a pair of Jetsons shorts, Father and Son Day and The Best Son respectively. This is kinda the same deal as his Yogi Bear shorts, but these were exclusive for Cartoon Network’s website. I remember watching them on there. They are as bad as you’d expect late-period John K internet shorts to be, though the second short is a superior version of Spielberg’s A.I. (in that it’s shorter).

Night of the Living Doo | March 17th, 2002 - 11:00PM (originally aired on Cartoon Network, 2001)

Night of the Living Doo originally aired as wraparound segments during a Halloween Scooby Doo marathon on Cartoon Network. It’s kinda like an episode of the Scooby Doo Movies, which shoehorned in a guest star each episode. Suddenly my man Dick Van Dyke be running a carnival and shit. That��s the Scooby Doo Movies. At the end of the night they played all the wraparound segments in one uninterrupted sitting, so the viewer could appreciate it as an actual full-on Scooby Doo episode. Night of the Living Doo functioned both as an extension of that series as well as a parody. The guests were Gary Coleman, David Cross, and the very cool band Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was all very self-deprecating and had jokes about the absurdity of Scooby Doo tropes. Well trod territory by this point, sure. But this is better than most irreverent Scooby Doo things. It didn’t hurt that I was a HUGE David Cross fan when this aired. Is this where I tell the stupid-ass story about getting mad at a message board guy for not liking David Cross? Sure. Okay, yeah. When this aired on Adult Swim a guy on Kon’s (hi Kon) message board posted something about not finding David Cross funny, shrugging that he didn’t get the hype. He cited this and his appearances in the Men in Black movies, and nothing else as proof for his lackluster comedy skills. It’s kinda like deeming Eddie Murphy as a bad comedian after watching Dr. Doolittle.

The point of this special is that David Cross is a little wooden and stilted, like in the old Scooby Doo Movies episodes. This poster revealed that he never heard David Cross’s stand-up or seen Mr. Show, explaining “I don’t watch puppet shows” A response that still baffles me to this day. Why Mr. Show isn’t a-- WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT? I’m not even sure if there was EVER a puppet on Mr. Show*. David wasn’t even a guest on Crank Yankers at this point! SO WHAT THE FUCK? To this day whenever mutual pals from that board get together and watch a movie or show and a puppet appears we make a joke about this guy. Good story? No? Fuck you.

Other stuff about this show: When it originally aired on Cartoon Network it was a little bit longer than the Adult Swim version. There’s a missing scene. I think it’s David trying to play an improv game with a mummy or something. At one point I had it on tape, but I’m not sure I kept it. Sorry.

*sorry to be coy here, but I do know of at least one puppet on Mr. Show, episode 204 there is brief footage of Grass Valley Greg putting on a puppet show for his staff. This CAN’T be the source of the confusion, can it? It’s literally like, 5 seconds.

MAIL BAG

This’ll teach me to skip a day cuz this really piled up. Thanks, guys. I love all the attention. It is my favorite thing.

I never really saw oblongs as something for the hot topic set. They had Invader Zim and Squee for that kind of shit. Oblongs feel like it was always directly targeting me: the shut-in comedy nerd who would appreciate will ferrell and the sklars being in a thing. Since they ended up doing the exact same show with Janeane Garofalo and David Cross a few years later it seems like that was the goal.

Yeah, I guess that also makes sense. There were a few elements that were kinda gothy but this show was mostly just Angus Oblong ahem, clowning around (puckering mouth to stifle laughter like Chris Elliott in Cabin Boy)

What are your thoughts on the other adult animation blocks of the past couple decades? Spike's notriously failed attempt. Animation Domination. Apparently Syfy has had their own going?

Spike was irredeemably bad. People think this shit is easy. Animation Domination is sorta legit, but it’s anchored by mostly crap. That ADHD thing was kinda good and underrated. Is that still going on? I wish I were more diligent about watching/recording that. Some of them bumpers were good. Also, we mustn’t forget MTV’s oddities. They were kinda the first cable network to court Adult Animation as their thing. They deserve some kind of credit for that. I’m sure they’re doing fine.

I'm having a nice big thing of spaghetti for dinner with some chicken parm? Jealous?

I’ve never had those are they good

What does Ephemera mean? Why is this happenening? Why aren't you talking about 10 Home Movies episodes in a row like a good boy.

In dude time, my friend. In dude time

What would be your Adult Swim dream come true?

Having a complete archive of Adult Swim blocks on a harddrive like Don Giller has with his Letterman archive. Even the commercials and shit. I know of a guy who was a regular taper of the entire block from night 1 but I’m not sure he kept up with it when they went nightly. I should ask him if he still has his tapes, huh?

That or they bring back the BUILD YOUR OWN DVD thing but with blu-rays and you can make your own bumps, which was a different thing they had. THEY SHOULD COMBINE THEM. And you can master it in SD if you wanna put 10 hours of stuff on a disk.

All this is archival bullshit dork shit. Real answer: Clay Croker comes back from the dead and every block is hosted by Space Ghost. That’d be it, right?

If anyone has genuine/better answers please write in with them I wanna keep this conversation going. ‘kay?

McDonalds reintroduces limited edition Adult Swim Toys. You can get them all (plus an extra to keep wrapped for collectors purposes) but you have to spend 20 dollars at McDonalds to grab them all. This is the last day of the promotion. You have to personally eat everything you buy but you can take it home. You can only buy one of each food item. What are you getting? I know the longer the mailbag message is the quicker you are inclined to give some glib remark but indulge this one for once.

Oh wow. I’m literally going to take this seriously. I’d roll in as breakfast was ending. Get myself a McChicken Biscuit and a Bacon Egg & Cheese McGriddle, hashbrowns and a Coffee. Gobble that knob on down. Wipe my mouth with a napkin. It’s lunchtime, bitch. Big Mac, Large Fries, BIG ass soda. You feel me, dude? Lemme tally up. Okay, probably need more. 20 piece nugget. Take that home cuz I’m probably gonna have to save some for dinner. That’s probably 20 bucks right there, especially if you go to the McDonalds on Burnside where all the menu items are more expensive because of the amount of security they have to hire (did you know that different McDonalds have different prices even in the same city? I didn’t until very recently). If this somehow doesn’t satisfy my price point I get a Vanilla shake and eat it anally DURING my BIG D squirt sesh, so it’ll spend as little time in my body as possible. Wait, do I get something for this? I might do this tomorrow just cuz. It sounds like a funky thing to do

Do you think you'll open an Adult Swim mueseum at some point? You seem to be the only steward of its history.

Unless I’m hired to by a large corporation, probably not. Also I don’t think I actually have much in the way of merch other than DVDs. I stopped being a DVD completist at some point around Freaknick The Musical. Oh, I never EVER bought a Robot Chicken DVD, EVER. I literally had a nightmare once that one appeared in my collection.

Hey! Please keep us abreast any time you put more of your garbage on eBay. Maybe you can put your wedding dress on there, you big girl.

Fucking sexist/trasphobic behavior.

Check out my eBay auctions I got season 18 of NCIS up there and some other things :)

The Ripping Friends blow chunks. I don't care if a rapist or the opposite of a rapist (a virgin who volunteers, lol) made it. It sucks a high hard one like when Ozzy banged the Cheiftan's Wife in that Black Sabbath TV Funhouse cartoon. Tell me more.

Tell you more?

Name one rap song you tolerate lol. You can't say anything by weird al or marky mark.

I guess I like the song the pest sings from the motion picture The Pest

Are there any good podcasts on adult swim?

The official one hosted by Matt Harrigan is good, but I’ve only bounced around on it. I don’t know if there’s any formal recap ones. I simply don’t know!

HE'S GIVING HIGH HARD ONE TO CHEIFTAN'S WIFE? UH OH!

Buddy, you are BANNED for LIFE from my MAIL BAG! You drive me CRAZY!

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #night of the living doo #boo boo runs wild #yogi bear #jetsons #ephemera

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 4)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the Masterlist!

Warnings: a good amount of feels and angst. . but there is fluff!

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do? (Based on the song Hymn by Joel Porter) 

A/n: *Throws chapter at you and runs away* Have fun! (gif created by the lovely ellen-reincarnated1967)

“What do you think your doing?” Your voice slightly raising as you stepped back into the motel room, shutting the door softly behind you with a loud click.

“Definitely . . . Not jumping on the bed?” Dean tried, both him and Sam staring down at you from their perch on the nearest bed.

“Wow. I’m convinced.”

“It was Deans idea!” Sam quickly pointed, his little hand lightly smacking against Deans face as he did.

“I leave for three minutes and you guys go crazy? Now I know I can never leave you guys again, which is disappointing-“ you sighed. “Seeing as I was gonna give you guys this extra bag of funyuns.” You slowly pulled the bag out of your hoodie pocket, instantly making Dean freeze.

“Okay, wait we’re sorry.”

“Oh are you? I said no funny business while I was gone.”

“Yes! I’m sorry! Can we have them?” Dean was practically vibrating at this point, teetering on the edge of the mattress.

Narrowing your eyes, you let a silence fall between you before giving in and toss the bag onto the other bed. “Fine, go to town. No crumbs on the bed.” It didn't even take a second before the middle child was vaulting over the space between the beds and ripping the bag open.

Sam grimaced, not making a move from his spot at all. “Funyuns are gross.”

“Yeah, well that’s why I got you this-“ being a subtle as you could, you passed Sam the candy bar you had grabbed from the vending machine with a quick wink, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Dean.”

“I won’t.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He linked his small finger with yours. “I pinkie promise.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“Sam? . . . Sam!”

Suddenly snapping back into reality, Sam whipped his head around took at his brother. “What?”

“I’ve been talkin to you for the past five minutes, have you even heard a word that I’ve said?”

“. . .yes?”

“Wow, you are a terrible liar. What the hell were you even thinking about?”

Pressing his lips together the younger Winchester contemplated whether or not to say anything. You were always a risky topic . . . Especially to Dean, and seeing as his brother had been in a decent mood most of the drive he really didn’t want to take that away.

“Dude, seriously. Tell me what’s going on in that weird head of yours.” Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, Deans eyes bounced back between the road and Sam.

“Y/N. . . What else do you think I would be thinking about right now?”

Dean sucked in a breath before he nodded his head in understanding. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. She’s gone. What’s it matter?”

He expected Dean to snap, lash out- like he did when they were younger and the wound still fresh, but instead he was silent. . . Only because he was trying to remember everything he could about his sister, both good and bad. He needed something to keep him grounded. For instance, You had been good at making people laugh, you’d take things in directions people wouldn’t expect- lewder, darker, more absurd— then ambush them into responding. Some of Deans humor stemmed from your own, he liked to think it was his way of keeping you close. Along with a love for old western movies and a passion for classic rock.

Happy thoughts. Just keep thinking happy thoughts, Dean. Just because Sam brought up Y/N does not mean you need to get bitter.

Turning his attention towards the radio, the hunter played with the volume until it was a soft hum that could easily be spoken over.

“You remember when Y/N used to play music in the mornings while Dad was gone on hunts?”

Sam let out a soft chuckle as confirmation. “You mean with that dinky old radio she got at a yard sale for like three bucks?”

“Yes! That’s the one!” Dean snapped his fingers, a grin tugging on his lips. “And it wasn’t even the good music we usually listened to in the car. . . It’s was like shitty upbeat soul and R&B.”

“You know she would probably smack you on top of the head if she heard you say that, right?”

“Yeah, probably-“ Dean chuckled, flicking on the turn signal as he turned onto a narrow two lane street. “Anyways you know how’d she dance around to it too? For like the soul purpose of embarrassing is even though there was no one else around?”

“Yeah, and she couldn’t dance worth a shit.” Sam added, smiling as he slowly began to remember.You were always doing stuff to get them to smile or laugh because you knew that in a lifestyle as dark as your families, you needed to keep something lit.

The rest of the drive felt lighter. . . Easier after that small conversation. Even after decades of absence you somehow still managed to put smiles on their faces.Still working hard even in death.

And then Dean pulled into the cemetery and that light and happy feeling he had had moments ago flickered and faded like a dying candle and he could feel his insides slowly beginning to twist as his face dropped. He turned off the engine and barely got two steps from the car before the feeling was too much and it felt like he was being crushed.

“Dean?”

“You know what? On second though this was a terrible idea. Why did we do this? We shouldn’t have done this. Why the fuck did I suggest this?” He quickly rambled, backing towards the car and reaching for the keys again. “Let’s- lets just go home and forget I ever suggested visiting this place-“

The older Winchester didn’t get very far before his brother was letting out a sigh and pushing him forward again. “We drove all this way. You’re not backing out now.”

“Sam-“

“Dude, we both agreed we would do this. Let’s start with just a minute and go from there.”

There was silence for a moment before Dean huffed and stopped resisting his brothers pushing. He felt like a kid again coming back here. Hell the last time he had been here he still was one. Even though they never found a body, their dad was decent enough to pay for a headstone, a place to come back to.

And then they never did.

The cemetery was cool, dew still on the grass as the morning sun began to peak through the trees and light haze. The place was empty except for them. . . Because who visits a cemetery at 6:30 in the morning? Dean sucked in another breath of fresh air, jamming his hands into his pockets despite it growing warmer out as the sun began to rise.

“You know, we probably should have brought mom with us. It’s kinda a dick move on our part to do this and not tell her.” Dean grumbled, eyes already glued on the headstone ahead.

“She’s still on that hunt with Jody. I didn’t really want to bother her.”

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right.” Dean snarked. “Would hate to remind good ol’ mom that her first born has a headstone right next to hers.”

“Why are you being such a dick? You suggested we visit.”

“It’s nothing, Sam. Just drop it.”

Gripping his brothers shoulder suddenly, Sam halted Dean in his tracks. “Nice try. Tell me what’s going on. You were fine ten minutes ago.”

Dean gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before letting another sigh sleep through his lips. “Do you remember that case we worked a few weeks ago with the psycho spirit that caught us?”

“You mean reverend Johnson? Yeah, why?”

“I keep thinking about what he said-“

“Dean, he was a vengeful spirit. He was crazy.” Sam shook his head, dropping his hand from his shoulder. But Dean squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to forget. The words from the reverend still banging around inside his skull. Bad guys really needed to stop it with their monologues.

“What I’ve seen is that the lord provides for those who need it. If you don’t have something, that generally means you don’t need it, or you don’t deserve it.”

At first it had made perfect sense and Dean had just gone with it. He didn’t have his sister because he didn’t deserve to have one.

But then again, by that logic, they didn’t deserve a home when they were younger, and they didn’t deserve to love their sister and be safe. Y/N didn’t deserve her life.

“You’re right.” Dean nodded, in hopes of getting Sam to back off. “You’re right. Dude was crazy. Just hard to get those fuckin words out of my head.” He mumbled, the two of them somehow turning in unison to look at your headstone a few yards away.

It was like the granite slab was staring them both down. The two brothers both afraid to get closer. . . Because to Dean it was like having to face the truth all over again. You were gone. Here reality was set in stone (Pun intended). But then his legs were moving before his brain was and he was kneeling down the wipe the dirt and dust away from your name, calloused fingers smoothing over the engraved letters.

“Why’d you have to go be a hero, huh?” He whispered under his breath, feeling the sudden and familiar sting of on oncoming tears.

He could remember it all so clearly still, how you had thrust your rifle into his hands and quickly tugged on your oversized canvas jacket. How the wind had whipped at your partially pulled up hair when you swung the door to the motel room open. How you told them you’d be back and then never were. Dean wondered if you would still be the same now. Back then he was still too small for his flannels and still wasn’t sure how to aim a gun properly. If you were still alive what would you have looked like now? Would you be taller? Would your hair be longer? . . . And would you have recognized what he and Sam had become?

Would you recognize them at all?

“We shoulda brought flowers or something.” He mumbled, picking the few stray weeds that had grown around the base of the stone. He was fidgeting. He did that when he was uncomfortable.

“We can always go get some. We ain’t too far outside of town.”

Dean mumbled a soft I guess as he rested his chin on his knee, arms looping tightly around his leg as if trying to mimic a hug.

“I think I’m gonna call mom. She would want to be with us for the next stop we make. . . We can always come back here too if she really wants.” Sam spoke up, extending a hand to help pull his brother up.

“Do what you think is right or whatever. I’ll be in the car.” rising to his feet, Dean wiped the dirt from his hands onto the front of his jeans. If he stayed here another minute he was bound to start crying. As He began the trek back through the maze of headstones, his fingers absentmindedly tugged on the piece of fabric on his wrist. The bit of flannel gave him a sense of comfort, because sometimes a bit of cloth could feel like love, and that was all he really wanted right now. It was one of those moments in which he realized how many things he had lost that mattered. Dad. Bobby. Y/N. Sure he had lost mom, but she was back. The rest were still gone.

All he wanted was the chance to see Y/N again, to hear her say I missed you, and I've come home.

SPN Taglist:

@familybusinesswritingbro​​​​​​​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​​​​​​​ @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​​​​​​​ @callmekda​​​​​​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​​​​​​ @orphiceseum​​​​​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​​​​​​ @marvelfangirllll​​​​​​​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​​​​​​​ @gladiosamicitias​​​​​​​ @castielsangelsx​​​​​​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​​​​​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​​​​​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​​​​​​​​  @totallyluciferr​​​​​​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​​​​​​ @dolanfivsosxox​​​​​​​@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​​​​​​ @akshi8278​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​​​​​​ @idksupernatural​​​​​​​​ @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​​​​​​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @beanie-beebo​​​​​​​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​​​​​​​ @greenarrowhead​​​​​​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​​​​​​ @brebolin​​​​​​​ @biahblue​​​​​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​​

HYMN Taglist:

@biahblue​​​ @brebolin​​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​​ @psych0crybaby​ @beetears​​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​​ @skyelikestowrite @leej2468​ @vicmc624​ @let-me-luve-you​​ @lilwinchester67​

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #SPN #bi-danvers writing

[braywashed]

Since I’ve been putting it off due to lingering sicky feels, etc.

Here’s the far too long and far too unedited and written at 4am vacation rundown NO ONE ASKED FOR! (huzzah!)

So, yeah. I arrived at the new Amtrak station in the city which is a major upgrade from the trailer park reject of station the old one was. Way roomier. Could use a coffee stand or something but yeah. Improvement. Had to go underground under the tracks and back up to get to the very cold surface, it must suck in the winter.

About an hour, hour and a half into the trip I quickly realized that a.) all I wanted to do was sleep, and b.) that my throat was burning. I assumed this was due to the absurdly cold, non-stop dry ass air conditioning, but no. This bitch got sick for her entire trip. On the plus side I had the seats to myself for the majority of the trip, but still. I barely watched any CR or anything because I was miserable the entire time. Ya don’t wanna be miserable for 10+ hours on a train.

Got to Boston, to @conniecorleone‘s frightening apartment stairs. My bag was way too heavy and she troopered through taking it up them for me without dying. So if you ever need a tank in battle, call Rachel.

Hung out a little. Ordered some Five Guys. Watched a couple episodes of the first season of American Horror Story. I get the appeal but also never needed to see Dermot Mulroney’s ass.

Rach was busy with work stuff a lot early in the week, not helped by some dumbass school shooting threat the week before and kept apologizing while still going above and beyond as a hostess while I just felt guilty for getting snot on her sheets.

Day two I colored a bit. I can do a wicked water gradient with erasable colored pencils, for the record. Hung out. Relaxed. Used a lot of Zicam and Advil. Then we were on way to The Middle East for her conehead space boyfriend.

We waited like, an hour? In the chilly mist outside? The show started like AN HOUR LATE after that. The venue was nice but man, the mood was getting close to dead at points, especially since, again, FUCKIN SICK. But Planet Booty came on and while, a little on the bordering too raunchy side, put on a fucking amazing live show. Dylan has an absurd amount of energy that should be bottled and sold, but if it were it might result in the orgypocalypse. I saw a youtube comment that said he’s ‘very touchy lol’ and truer words never spoken. That man will grind on you and sing directly in your earlobe with his tongue if you are front row and happily, I was not. Yet somehow I still ended up with his sweat on my sweater sleeve thanks to someone being a dumbass and high fiving him after their set and not being able to handle the consequences. Ahem.

THEN TWRP TOOK LIKE ANOTHER GODDAMN HALF HOUR???

But I FORGIVE THEM because they were GREAT and played Daft Punk’s Celebrate in honor of motherfuckin Canadian Thanksgiving so... fine... I guess. My only complaint is they didn’t do The Perfect Product even though I get that’s probably a weird thing to do live. Also minimal keytar and Sung almost decapitated himself but you know... it happens. They DID do Tactile Sensation though which is a fucking jam. And Atomic Karate, ofc. And Meouch broke his fucking bass string which is like? Fucking hardcore? He came down like a foot away from us at one point. It was dope. They’re amazing live and have no right to be for dudes in ridiculous robot costumes playing synth in the year 2018 and rolling around stage on a hoverboard. Sadly I brought minimal memory cardage this year and didn’t get a lot of good video of them.

Afterwards, despite *someone* almost passing out, we hung out in the merch lines and did NOT accidentally cut ahead this time. I got a free signed poster because it was my birthday vacation ayyyyy and bought a couple EPs and the Together Through Time album. Then hopped over the PB’s line and got two hugs from Dylan who hung out and talked to/hugged/got selfies with every single person who got into line there and just? Good dude. Pure dude. Awful stache but... thumbs up human being. I got their Naked album and we headed out back to the apartment and some delivered Dominos (which was the only good Dominos I’ve ever had in my life.)

Day three I accidentally slept until like 4pm. Literally what else did we do that day? I cannot remember for the life of me. We might have went to Dunkin at like 9pm and she showed me a weird omnipotent plastic ear hanging on an electric wire? Was that this day? I have no fucking idea. Her Netflix and supply of Puffs tissues were my best friends this trip okay.

Day four she went to class and I relaxed and intended to walk to the mall. Unfortunately, my sick bleh hit and I didn’t feel up to going until about ten minutes before she got back. So we ended up heading over there together. I made her try Baja Blast, as is customary in my nation, and got her to try some green matte lipstick. Success. I was highkey hoping they would have a Build-A-Bear in the joint but they didn’t. They did have a Newbury though, that had the six-inch Roadhog pop which I’ve had a hard time finding locally, so I said fuck it and bought it.

That night was MST3k live! The theater was old as dirt. The kind of old as dirt where the flooring is bowing in. They had real strict rules on cameras and shit, which I get for the sake of spoilers but c’mon.... c’mon. Their merch sucked unfortunately though, so I didn’t waste any money on anything (for some reason they had 2017 tour stuff? It’s... not 2017?). The show itself was good, though I was wondering before it started how sick they must get of doing the same movie in different towns almost every other night. Pretty quickly realized oh, yeah, a lot of this show was likely pre-riffed. They did pull a kid from the stage at one point so he could guest riff off a script from Joel, which I’m thinking was a clever little insert fraction of the riff they did live between segments. I could be wrong, but on that front, it felt a little cheap. But it was still fun to see the boys and the bots live and have jokes cracked about not being able to afford the villains for the tour. And The Brain itself was........ I don’t know what I was expecting but..... it sure was.... something. The novelty was worth it and I will still gladly marry Crow T. Robot.

We went across the street to a little pub stop that was I think called Rock Bottom after that and got some much needed late night food. For some reason my brain was like “man, I could go for chicken fried steak right now” and don’t you know IT WAS ON THE FUCKIN MENU? WITH GARLIC CHEDDER MASHED POTATOES? Boston, much like with wings, does not know what country gravy is, but it was still everything I fucking wanted and did not expect to find, so A+. Also I was wearing a dress with shorts underneath it and stuck to the goddamn stool. Such is life.

Day five was rainy and miserable. I tagged along to university with Rach and it sucked, honestly. Being on a campus makes me feel awkward and the whole still being sick thing didn’t help. I ended up taking a walk way around the block to a Starbucks and getting the worst fucking frap I’ve ever paid too much money for. Went back around. Sat in the library. Felt even shittier. Started googling food places. Yard House wasn’t far but I didn’t want to deal with crossing a lot of traffic, especially if the rain started back up (it did, with a vengeance). So I ended up back around the block at some Olive Garden-esque fake Italian place with not an Italian in sight called Bertucci’s for some bland chicken-less fettuchini alfredo (because, as I’d reasoned with myself, I had chicken three times the day before). It was dimly lit, I had a booth to myself, and the water had the sweet skullet and braided beard combo I had liveblogged. People kept complimenting my tattoo. It was nice and no one seemed overly bothered that I was clearly killing time until I spent probably way too long in the restroom after trying to look alive. I tipped the dude ten bucks and left in the pouring rain with my umbrella.

From her school we took the world’s longest Uber to Parts Fucking Unknown in awful traffic and rain to find a Double Tree where @freakishlytallaustralian‘s parents were staying for a hot minute during their brief little US tour on their way to Europe. I’ve never met Mandi in person, but I’ve now met her parents who say she’s gotten to know a good bloke. She looks exactly like her mom. They were sweet. Anxious but sweet. And I am a freak who doesn’t talk and was sick trying to seem presentable at the bare minimum capacity.

Back ~home~ we ordered some JP Licks ice cream (BROWNIE BROWNIE BATTER!!! BROWNIE. BROWNIE. BATTER.), I watched CR and some stupid videos on the internet with her. Got some sleep. Sort of. Barely.

Despite Matt Mercer nearly succeeding at lulling me to sleep and eating my dreams, it didn’t happen, and I could not get comfortable for the life of me. The “coughing every five seconds in bed” started this night and was not having mercy. So I opted out of another day of hanging around campus to try and get some more rest. It didn’t really work, but I did eventually get a solid three hours or so, so it was something.

As the day progressed it was onward to the Science Museum to meet Ron the T-Rex. There was a wedding happening. How appropriate, for Bravier funko pops to have come along on the day of a blessed union. Coincidence? I think not. A turtle kept falling off a branch when he was trying to nap. There was some space stuff. It wasn’t great. But I got a little stuffed dinosaur and that’s Important.

From there we hit up the same movie theater we went to the year before and saw Bad Times At The El Royale. Do recommend. Chris Hemsworth as a Charles Manson was not something I ever thought I’d see, and I still don’t understand it, but it rather predictably works for me, so we’ll leave it at that. Good movie, good performances, good pacing and editing that could have easily not been. See it, it’s fun. Not perfect, but fun.

It was COLD AS BALLS after the movie and neither of us brought jackets or sweaters, so the walk to the train station and back ~home~ was a chilly one. We stopped in, got some warmth, and headed down the road past her old place to a bar. If we didn’t appreciate TWRP and PB enough already, the band she had to pay cover for us to get in for just to pick up food were about 8 upper middle aged men playing every instrument in the book. Afropunk, they said. No, we said. Offkey, we said. This place was dark as shit and loud as shit but you know what? They KNEW WHAT REAL, HOT CHICKEN WINGS WERE and for that, I am appreciative dammit.

Went back, got some more Dominos, and was finally introduced to John Mulaney’s (or two of) comedy specials. He’s genius and I *understand* it now, tumblr. I get it. We ate way too much and did my laundry.

The week had come and gone way too soon and I felt robbed of my good time by how shitty I felt. Hopping on the train the next day (after a godawful uber ride) was just as depressing as the time before. And even though I didn’t feel as miserable as the trip there, and once again had a window seat to myself, I found myself curled up against my hoodie crying trying to fall asleep again knowing I was already headed back home.

Once the initial depression passed, the trip wasn’t bad. The iced latte was good. The Albany stop not as confusing the second time around. The WiFi kept me company. Eventually my aunt texted me asking if I wanted to hit up Stevie T’s on the way home because they were 24hr and neither of us had eaten all night. It was a plan. Get off, get food, come home, faceplant on my own big comfy bed, vow to deal with my dad’s drama in the morning and call it a night.

Then *that* happened. Yeah. Last year? Every stop, regardless of time of night, they made announcements. They came by, checked the marker above your seat, and if you were due off at the next stop told you it was coming up, would help with luggage if needed, and directed you to the correct door to exit the train. This year? Nothing. They decided to stop making announcements right before the Rochester stop, and no one came by in our car to tell us where to get off. Stopped, myself and the other person due off at that stop, a late-teens girl, went to the door at the front of our car where every other stop had gotten off before us. We assumed since no one said differently, and no attendants were around, that must be it. We were idiots. Because by the time we realized hey, they’re not going to open this door and we should go to the far other end of the train, it was already moving again en route to Buffalo.

We found ourselves in the dining booths by the cafe car while the staff made vague remarks and the conductor acted like it wasn’t his problem. My aunt on the phone talked to the Rochester station, we tried to claim I didn’t even have a reservation until about two other people looked up my ticket. They said it was up to the conductor to get us a cab home, he laughed at us, claimed to know nothing about any of that, and asked if were were going to buy the bus tickets the other girl was looking up. The bus for 3am, in downtown Buffalo, nowhere near the station. When we got off the staff at the Depew station was a lot more sympathetic, and said since nothing else was being offered he would put us on the next train back home, but since it was a Sunday morning there was no train to Rochester until roughly 7:45am. It was about 1:30 at this point. I felt awful for encouraging the other girl not to pay for two ubers and a bus ticket with the only alternative being offered to sit alone in an empty, unstaffed station in the middle of the night for hours. And between the situation, being tired and still sick, and dealing with my aunt calling hotels only to get put on hold and lose the room she was trying to reserve - I put my bags in a corner, found the restroom, and had a panic attack. I don’t know why, but those tend to be stupid like that. It’s not even like I was scared, or confused, or that worried myself. I started out very ‘whatever, I’ll just get a room or stay in the station, I’m pissed but whatever’. But something about the constant calls and texts and my battery nearing 0 had me stressed and I was crying like a bitch. I just wanted to fucking sleep, and I knew that wouldn’t happen in a train station with nothing but some benches, a restroom, and a vending machine.

Rach suggested an alternative I felt guilty about taking but ended up going for: Get to her parents house just outside Buffalo, get their spare key, and sleep on their couch while they’re out of town with their blessing. So I called an Uber, and the first one passed me by, with the gps fucking up and saying I should be picked up ON THE TRAIN TRACKS. The second guy was smart enough to come to the cab pickup out front and was really cool. He said he was just thankful I wasn’t a fucked up drunk college party kid and the first all night. He didn’t comment on how I probably definitely looked like I’d just been broken up with in the world’s worst romcom. It was over 20 bucks and I tipped him the max. Found my way inside, set up the couch, and continued my momentarily on hold panic until I eventually passed out. My Aunt came to pick me up in the morning, I got carsick, we had mediocre diner breakfast and what’s after that isn’t news worth talking about. Isn’t it bad enough the tail end of the trip took up like a third of this post?

All in all... it felt like a disaster. I’m not gonna lie. In weird ways the stars aligned that TWRP would end up on Conan the night of their show and have to reschedule to the day I came to town, but I paid for it with otherwise bad timing and my body deciding against me having a good time. Fun was had, don’t get me wrong. The good was good and any chance to get away from... this, is appreciated, but it just seemed like everything went awry. 

Mucho thanks to @conniecorleone again, for letting me crash on the futon and be my usual bland self, even blander while ill, and also buying me expensive cold syrup and a-many ubers.

We’ll see if Massachusetts and I ever cross paths again.

#sam does boston round two

[italicwatches]

The Good Place, season 2 - Episode 03

Okay, let’s get this bad boy rolling. It’s The Good Place, season 2, episode 03! Here we GO!

-PREVIOUSLY ON The Good Place, Michael hooked on with the humans!

-And PRESENTLY ON The Good Place, “Oh, let’s not get caught up on ‘who lied to whom’ or ‘which one of us created an entire fake reality in order to cause eternal misery for the others.’ That’s ancient history.” I’m just going to let that sentence sit there and stew.

-Also Jay wants them to be The Bobcats. But Eleanor knows that there’s more going on here. Michael’s desperate. So explain. What’s changed? …It’s just like she said. The four of them keep winning. This place was supposed to psychologically torture the lot of you for thousands of years, to create a semi-self-sustaining loop of making you all make it even worse for eachother. But you keep figuring it out and teaming up!

-And now, there’s been a new development. He’s being blackmailed by Vicky. And she’s going to start over in 30 minutes. …So here’s the plan. He’s not going to reboot things. You’ve got to play the players.

-Chapter 17!

-So the humans quickly convene in the bedroom, and okay, plan? Jay thinks they should team up with Michael. Hot take, but sell it. He’s got a bow tie. You can always trust a dude in a bow tie! It’s how he got $600 for getting some weird turtles to Daytona beach! …Oh my god I swear he’s losing IQ on every reboot.

-Right ignore him. Michael’s a liar. Eleanor knows liars. She was a liar. So, look, they can’t trust him. They need information, which they will take with many grains of salt, and they need to work fast. Go? Go.

-So first out there, how the hell can they trust Michael? He’s got no reason. But, all cards on the table, here’s how things go if you don’t. Vicky comes and watches the reboot. You all go back to the zero point. Vicky’s version of things probably won’t be enough to keep you four from figuring it out. When she fails, she hides her iteration and takes the rest to his boss, who shuts the whole thing down, and you four end up in the regular Bad Place in a volcano full of scorpions. So…Less than ideal.

-Second question! Jay wants to know if the Jacksonville Jaguars won the Super Bowl. …No. Okay but about the Jaguars—

-Eleanor calls for Janet, and give this idiot something shiny to play with. So Jay’s soon got a sparkler, which leaves Tahani wanting to know just how long they’ve been doing this song and dance. Eight hundred and two, longest one was just shy of a year, this one was about a month. Shortest one was…Eight seconds. Michael just straight up sat down on the reboot button when he got in his chair, you four didn’t even wake up between that one and the next.

-Janet would like to know if she was also rebooted. Because each Janet reboot is specifically designed to increase their processing power and social aptitude, so as to limit the likelihood of needing another one. She could be the greatest Janet in all existence! LOOK! She can pat her head AND rub her tummy! holy shit

-Wait, Janet’s not one of yours? Nope, she’s a stolen Good Place Janet. Noted. Okay, so why do you look like a human if you’re a demon? Part of working for the Bureau of Human Affairs. And Mindy’s is fake, right? No, no, the Medium Place is legit. And outside of his authority or capacity to affect, much to his frustration.

-So Michael’s getting a bit panicky and look, they’re running out of time and he’s the only option you have. Their only option? “A lot of guys your age said that to me just as the bar was about to close. But I never settled for them! Because my ex-boyfriend lived nearby, he was obsessed with me, and he never slept because he was addicted to Adderall. There is ALWAYS another option!”

-…jesus fuck, Eleanor

-So after…That, Eleanor’s tapping out, she’s not in on the game. So Michael has to play one last card. You help him make this work…And he can get you all to the real Good Place.

-…EXPLAIN.

-It’s gonna take time, it’s gonna be complicated, and he will have to work out the details and work them out in secret. But look. There are ways to go from down here to up there. So the five of them can get out of this—

-Five?

-Yes, five. He’s doomed down here! He’ll sell saving you four from eternal damnation as proof that even a demon can be rehabilitated. …Look, they’re all up shit creek without a paddle right now, this might not even work, but this way you lot at least get to go in both eyes open.

-…NEW MEETING.

-Eleanor grabs Chidi and Tahani and pointedly leaves Jay out of it, and her read? This is a fresh style of torture. He’s putting them in blesser-evil, devil-you-know mess just to fuck with them, to make them squirm for a while. Teaming up with an actual factual literal demon is insane.

-Chidi fully agrees.

-But he sees no other choice on the board. …He spent his whole life trying to come to a solid grasp of ethics, to have a truly firm place of understanding of right and wrong, to try and know whether or not he was doing the right thing. And that landed him here. So right now, he’s open to damn near anything if it lets him have the time and space to try and actually improve as a person.

-Okay so that’s one vote in. Tahani? Tahani continues to believe she doesn’t even belong here. Michael! She deserves to be in the real Good Place. Take her there or let her speak to your manager. …Right, Michael doesn’t have time for this. You’ve done the dramatic realization plenty of times and he’s bored of it so here’s the short version.

-You’re here because you never cared about anyone you helped. It was for fame, for status, or to spite your own family.

-Bullshit!

-…You know, Tahani, you never actually saw how you died, in all the loops. But you know what, let’s play it. It’s very…Telling.

-FLASHBACK

-So Tahani was at an interview for International Sophisticate Magazine. And they immediately wanted to talk about her sister Kamilah, who turned down a chance to be on the cover herself…And, well, suffice to say, they wanted to use Tahani to essentially interview Kamilah by proxy, about her induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame defying all of their usual structures.

-Which led to Tahani going to that induction in a staffer’s uniform to get in. Finding her sister. And confronting her, which went from argument, to her bringing down the massive statue Kamilah had commissioned…A massive golden statue, that crushed her underfoot.

-Back in the Now. You get it, Tahani? …And it takes her a few more runs through the concept to get it, and then she just breaks down. Okay, I feel a little bad now that she actually can see herself for who she is. A little bit.

-So she’s game to team up if it means she can actually become a better person. So Eleanor finds herself the one woman out…And Eleanor, of course, is one-week-in Eleanor.

-So, uh, she’s really not taking this whole “everyone wants to become better people” thing well.

-Also, “I have no idea what’s going on, but everyone is talking and I should too!” Keep on keepin’ on, Jay. Keep on.

-And Michael just breaks down into laughter because he’s realizing how absurd it is that he’s reliant on these…glorified insects to save him. Like an exterminator needing to be saved by cockroaches. Oh, now Eleanor is PISSED.

-Chidi’s got to step in and force Eleanor to look at him, to focus, and to breathe. …Okay. Okay. Give her five minutes to think.

-She steps into her absurd clown room, and immediately calls Janet. Janet, get her a train full of cocaine, right now. She’s going back to Mindy’s place.

-And Eleanor begins the desperate escape aaaand Chidi is there at the door. So gonna talk to him about the plan now that you’re bailing, Eleanor? …She’s not bailing.

“You have a bag full of clothes, you stuffed pillows and a mop in your bed to make it look like you’re asleep, and you’re literally sneaking out the back gate.”

-Okay. Okay, she’s going to Mindy. Because an eternity with her still sounds better than a literal deal with the devil. She insists she doesn’t owe any of them anything…And Chidi, at this point, realizes the best thing he can do is just walk away.

-Because the one person Eleanor can’t come up with a defense against…Is herself. And so that’s how Eleanor ends up sitting down with Michael, and, real talk. Out of all the reboots…How many times did Chidi refuse to help her out?

-None. Every single time that you managed to find him, you’d confess your situation, and Chidi would always get in there. And every time you lot last long enough, he always succeeds. She’s…She’s not that bad of a person, on the scale of Bad Place people at least…right?

-Janet arrives with the cocaine and escape train.

-…Eleanor would like to rescind the previous question.

-So she goes to the others, and real talk, she still doesn’t trust Michael at all. But…He’s asking for their help. And if there’s one thing that Chidi has apparently taught her in every last one of these loops, it’s that when someone asks for your help, you give it. It’s what Chidi would do for any of them.

-It’s…What he IS doing, Eleanor. He’s right here. In the room.

-But okay, Eleanor is in. On one condition. Michael, you’re taking the ethics classes too. You want to get into the real Good Place when this is over? Time to learn how to be worth them letting your ass in. And, just so they’re clear? You try and play them, and it all goes to Vicky. And you join in on being fried with the rest of them.

-So, you in as part of Team Cockroach, exterminator man? Just like you said…You’re running out of time? And they’re your only option.

-On the fresh loop, Eleanor’s in the fro-yo initial style. Except of course, this time, Vicky is introduced as the official Best Person, and so sort of the mayor of the town.

-And Vicky steps up…And immediately starts to sing!

-Hard cut to Eleanor’s place. They’ve got a few hours to work while Vicky plans for the welcome party. So her plan’s basically what Michael did with this one. Eleanor’s gonna get drunk, hog all the shrimp, insult some people, and they’ll use that to build the chaos sequence for tomorrow. You’ll all need to play along.

-So Michael’s, as far as Vicky’s concerned, going to be handling surveillance on you four. Which is how they’re gonna all get away with this. Jay asks if Janet is going to keep their secrets, and on the one hand, she can’t lie…But on the other, her job is to keep humans happy. You four are the only humans here. So she’s on board! And so it’s time for a cowardly traitor, four idiots, and a robot (Janet protests) to outsmart some of the Bad Place’s best and brightest. Go team!

-Credits!

Janet gets better every time. And this is gonna be interesting. Looks like Vicky’s using a lot of the season one version of the neighborhood, but of course going in with everyone knowing the score is going to make things a lot different…We’ll just have to see how that goes next time, in episode FOUR of The Good Place, season two! Wait for it!

#where I watch #recap #live action #the good place #season 2 #spoilers

[miraivan]

Star Wars: The Last Jedi

I saw the new Star Wars movie, and I have a lot of Thoughts that it seems most people who have seen it haven’t had. So here there are in a VERY SPOILERY format under the cut. Please do not click if you haven’t seen the movie. Mostly I am just sad.

This is gonna be ramble. Just got back from the new Star Wars movie, and I'm still digesting it in my head, but I wanted to put my thoughts down because overall I think I came out of this movie really unhappy with it, and I want preserve my thoughts before I start reading other reviews or whatever. I didn't hate everything, but overall I left feeling unhappy. So, in no particular order:

Too many characters doing too many stupid/unimportant things. Lots of plots kind of everywhere, a lot of which just weren't interesting/felt tedious. Number 1 was the casino detour which was so stupid it hurts, and it amounted to nothing but a big waste of time. It gave Finn something to do, I guess, but it was really dumb. Maybe the betraying dude will come back at some point, but mostly that whole sequence left me twitching in my seat.

The whole movie felt like one of those movies where shit keeps happening just to fuck the situation up a little more so they have to keep running? It's a common theme in some movies and I absolutely hate it. The exit is clear and then suddenly EVENT happens and the exit is moved back five paces, then it happens again and again and again. It's a cheap and unrealistic way of building suspense, and gets absurd when you push it to the scale this movie did with people running from a planet to space ships, to smaller space ships, to another planet, to a door, to a tunnel, etc. It's just exhausting and tedious. It's not exciting, it's frustrating. And the longer everyone important to the plot lives through events like these, the less and less meaningful they are. Not that I want important people to die, but if they don't then there are literally no stakes. I don't care (much) about the secondary/background characters. Obviously I don't want the Rebels to all die, but when 20 ships are being picked off one-by-one and 19 of the ships have faceless background characters on them and one has all the main cast... there's just no fear. It's just tedium to get to the next sequence because I know everyone in the main cast is not about to be blown up.

Kylo Ren is such a fucking baby whiny manchild brat asshole dick. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS CHARACTER. I do not understand his motivations or why anyone likes him. His actor's choices for the role are also often mindboggling.  There were a few moments where he had some personality and interesting traits, but overall I just don't understand him. I cannot comprehend what went so terribly bad in his pampered little baby boy life that he got so seduced to the dark side by Snoke that he's totally down with killing his family, and also all these millions of Rebels. I just don't get it.  I don't get why he hates Luke with such a fiery passion, either.  Hating Luke I get, but the whole scene where he says FIRE EVERYTHING ON THAT MAN.... why? Why do you hate Luke so much? There's one scene where Luke maybe tried to kill him, and I get that was traumatizing for him. But, where did the fiery rage come from? I can make excuses for it, like Snoke convinced him Luke was some crazy asshole, or whatever. But it just doesn't make sense. That's just me making excuses for the movie's bad writing. There's no good explanation for why Kylo was so seduced so thoroughly. When you compare his upbringing to Anakin's, it's like a joke.  Anakin makes sense why he went to the Dark Side. We got a real understanding of his descent into the Dark Side and how he was seduced, and how he thought it was his only out/the only way he could protect people he loved/etc. There's none of that with Kylo.  Basically the only explanation is that he's a psychopath, and like... that could be okay? Some people are psychopaths. Hux is probably one.  But I don't think that's the interpretation we're meant to have for him. We're meant to think he's got light remaining and that he's redeemable, I just don't see how.

As he is he's just an utterly unlikable, nonredeemable character. Because he has no logical motivation for his petulant behavior, he's unsympathetic and since he's unsympathetic I can't root for his redemption. Even if he was turned to the light side, he'd still need to die for all the shit he's done. There's just no coming back from that. He's not a villain with shades of grey to him, he's just all black and that makes him really uninteresting to me.

Did they really need to kill off Luke like that? What an anticlimactic and unnecessary death. The stuff before it was interesting/cool, and the whole projection thing was very neat. I get why it would've exhausted him so much... but so much to the point of death... ehhhh. That seemed unnecessary. I suspect he'll be around as a Force ghost, but. Meh. It was very underwhelming after what was otherwise a cool fight sequence.

I'll never understand why they don't land their ships and things closer to their destination. Like the huge cannon thing, why not land it within immediate firing range? Why land 5 miles away?

Didn't need Rose randomly kissing Finn. Not sure where that was coming from? Was it just to try to drive a wedge into the Finn/Rey romance/relationship that seems way more natural and obvious? If it amounts to nothing then I guess whatever. She's a fangirl and was dying so whatever. But if it turns into a romance I'm gonna be seriously side-eyeing everything.

Overall there was too much happening and not enough down time. When I think about this compared to Empire Strikes Back, there's just no heart to it the way Empire had. This just has too many characters and kept trying to follow them all. They needed to focus on just Rey and Finn, with everyone else pivoting around them as secondary characters. Their reunion should've felt like Leia rescuing Han in RotJ. But instead we're following Poe (who is relevantly unimportant, I'm sorry, he just is) for huge parts of it, and what he's doing is largely uninteresting/tedious/boring because he's fighting in battles we are almost positive he won't die in, and causing trouble that we almost certainly know won't affect the major plot of the show. In fact, I'm almost positive if you removed most of Poe's solo scenes the movie would progress just fine on its own.

And instead of giving Finn something useful to do, they just sent him off on some illogical chase to some other planet to fuck around for a few hours? What? Why not just send everyone with him? Why not at least send as many people as could possibly fit onto that ship to get them to safety? Why not try to do more trips like that to other nearby planets?  If they could get to that casino world so easily in that ship why was it taking so long to get the other ships to that old rebel base planet?  Also, why didn't they fly the freighter into the Star Destroyer way earlier? Why was that not even a consideration? Why just let the Admiral die pointlessly when they could've planned from the start that after abandoning ship she'd fly it straight into the Star Destroyer? Why couldn't THAT have been the plan she was saving all along to tell Poe? And not wanting to tell him because he'd be angry about it, but it would've proven that she really was a capable, desperate war general and would've made a lot more sense that just having her sitting in her chair piloting (WHY IS SHE EVEN PILOTING??) the ship. How does that thing not have auto pilot? Aughhhh, that was all so stupid.

I don't know why everyone is frothy about the porgs. They were kind of cute when the first showed up, but got real old real fast. Overused. The salt dogs were much more interesting and way less gimmicky feeling.

We should've seen more of Leia's Force abilities prior to her flying through space.  Don't get me wrong, that was awesome, but I wanted to see more build up prior to that, or at least a few words somewhere that she'd had some Jedi training.

I did like how Snoke was the one orchestrating the link between Rey and Kylo, but I think it's absolutely moronic that Rey didn't tell Luke that she was having these visions/connections. How did she not think that was a *little* important?  I would've also liked to have seen more actual Jedi training for her. Lifting the X-Wing out of the water, running with Luke tied to her back, actually sparring with the lightsaber instead of just swinging it at a rock. I was so excited for her to meet Luke and train from him, but I feel like almost all of their time together was wasted. She wouldn't open up to him, and he wouldn't open up to her, and the training she got was sort of half-assed/stories. Some interesting moments, but just nothing really deep. (I also still think it's really dumb that the rebellion was depending SO MUCH on finding Luke that they based the whole first movie around finding the map to him, but once they finally found a way to him... they sent one random girl they'd just met. And Chewie. Why didn't they at least send a couple of people? Or at least someone Luke knew?)

Speaking of the previous movie, we got several scenes there that gave the impression that Rey was originally trained as a Jedi and witnessed Kylo's attack on the others. Didn't we? I distinctly remember a scene of her as a small child watching as a shadowy figure with a lightsaber attacked and her being abandoned on Jakku by her family. And I remember her reaction and visions when she touched Luke's lightsaber the first time. I'm TOTALLY FINE with her parents being nobodies (if that's even the truth), but it doesn't explain those visions. I'm totally fine with her naturally being awesome with the Force and I like the idea that as Kylo grew stronger in the Dark Side someone would grow equally strong in the Light Side, but I still feel like Rey needs more explanation for why she can do the things she can do. Maybe that'll be in the third movie, but I suspect we're just supposed to believe she naturally knows how to influence minds, sword fight and lift rocks, and I don't quite buy that.

I'm trying to think of more things I liked. Seeing Leia was wonderful. She's a hardcore badass, but of course it was tinged with a lot of sadness. I wanted a much better reunion between Luke and Leia and it's sad to know that even if she were alive we wouldn't get it because they decided to kill off Luke. I'm not opposed to Luke dying, but it didn't serve a really big purpose. Just bought them a bit of time to escape from a retarded situation they put themselves into... Wait, sorry I'm complaining again.

Ugh, I dunno. Everything I'm thinking about is annoying me. Yoda's scene was weird. Can he just show up whenever? Why then? Why not during a more important moment? The way he talked made it seem like he hadn't seen Luke in a long time, but showing up then just seemed random since he didn't stop Luke from destroying the Jedi books.

A whole host of native nuns living on that tiny island was kind of weird/unnecessary.

Ugh, I dunno. Overall I just wanted a more streamlined story, following the main character, where shit *actually happens*.  Other than Kylo killing Snoke, almost nothing happened in this movie. The rebels moved from one location to another taking ridiculously huge casualities and killing some Imperials too, and that's about it. I think the whole movie took less than a week. (Gotta love their magical time travel.)

The visuals were stunning, and it was great to see some characters interacting again, but a much better story would have involved the rebels escaping to a small base, having some quiet down time with just our main cast all together (Rey, Finn and Leia, maybe Poe), and following them as they went as a group together to confront Kylo (or vice versa). Spreading everyone out in varying storylines did no service to the story, and weakened it a lot in Finn and Poe's case because their stories weren't interesting.  Rey's was the only interesting storyline and should've been the main/central one, but it felt quite sidelined at times.

The Force Awakens wasn't perfect, but it definitely felt better written, with much better pacing and characterizations than whatever this was.  I felt like this was just really jagged and poorly put together, with lots of superfluous/time filling scenes, many of which went on for way too long.  I constantly felt bored, thinking, "Get back to the main plot!" while I'm watching yet another pointless space battle.

I'm really sad/diappointed. I love Star Wars. I was so pumped and ready for this movie, and I just don't think I liked it. I can't see myself settling into excitedly rewatch this the way I could other Star Wars movies. There's just no heart in this one for me. It's almost all empty action.

Ugh. Convince me I'm wrong.

#star wars #star wars review #the last jedi #star wars: the last jedi #review #the last jedi review

[mutualhighmaintenancemachin-blog]

I need a fix cus I'm going down

Made the mistake of appraising myself sufficiently healthy to attend a bonfire with normal decent tax-payer type folks. Stood up too fast in my chair and blacked out completely, hit my head on concrete. When I came to i had no earthly fucking memory of having driven to the bonfire, nor could i really recall the names of the three concerned hipsters perched over my limp doughy abscessed jaundiced shit heap of a body. Told them it was a problem with blood sugar, i had forgotten to imbibe my afternoon orange juice! Translation-haven’t slept in four days, taking in roughly two hundred calories a day all in ginger ale. Meth heads opt to sustain themselves on a diet of paranoid resentment in lieu of proteins and grains. The cook gets super spun and lectures us like we’re babes about the dark leftist forces presently waging war on the masculinity of the white man-for one thing, he's convinced that jews run the porn industry and that fucking pornhub is riddled with overtures both overt and subliminal intended to brainwash white guys into identifying as weak and feminine and to associate men of color with heroism and strength. He also believes that soy causes gender dysphoria. All of these batshit crazy delusions act like stars in the broad constellation of the cooks worst dystopian fears-a workforce with no room left for traditionally male-centered leadership characteristics dominated from top-down by a host of future ladies who make their trade in creative collaboration, rather than fear and theft of other peoples ideas. Without a need for a provider, our nazi-bespectacled methamphetamine cook envisions a new sexual economy in which women will jettison their attachments to the family structure in favor of like, industrialism, i guess, and men will have no other resort but a desperate turn to cross-dressing and dick-taking and i guess maybe stitching scarves. It was at this point that i was really tempted to tell the cook something he needs to hear-if you really believe that large shadow societies are orchestrating history just cus they want to make you some dudes boyfriend, its probably cus part of you wants to be. I get that, sucking dick is a blast. if you’re terrified that you can’t compete in a post-modern job market, it might just be because you aren’t. There’s no place left for cowboys or outlaws or methcooks cus those professions only make sense in the context of an insanely violent frontier. You feel obsolete and useless because you are, but make no mistake, that hurt has nothing to do with the world everything to do with your soul being severely malnourished. I know cus mine is too! Real moral christian courage is showing up to your crucifixion with a smile on your face ready to graciously thank the romans for every nail they put through your wrist. You feel empty because your a paranoid fascist meth cook, i feel bad cus I'm a junkie. We are bad. The nazi pilots who blitzed france in two sleepless, speed-fueled nights probably felt fucking fantastic, as if they were aloft on the trade winds of history itself and their momentum across europe must have seemed like proof enough of the moral righteousness of the german cause. But then the morning comes and the meth wears off and your skin smells like piss and your back aches and you can’t stop grinding your jaw and the first wave of survivors begin to trickle out from the camps and presumably in that moment a few nazis had the epiphany-that the very same starved beaten traumatized jewish women and men and children they had aspired to extinguish from human memory were now going to tell the story of what had happened. Power loses, grace is its own kingdom, etc etc. Furthermore those german officers who managed to transition back to civilian life and start families must have experienced a very strange new parental dynamic-can you imagine a family at a dinner table and the proud head of household instructs his small son to finish his vegetables and after pausing to mull it over for a few moments his son turns to him and says Father having thought about it a great deal i don’t think ill be following your instructions-after all you were only following instructions yourself when you helped to engineer the greatest cruelty in human history! To which ostensibly the father mumbles to clear his throat and asks his wife to pass the potato salad. Not even to invoke the possibility that the Fuhrer himself Mr. Adolph Hitler probably died surrounded by a swarm of shadow people, fucking hilarious just the thought, him yelling in that distinctive manic patois of his that he’s the leader and the abeyance of his will is sacrosanct blah blah blah while the little invisible mites under his pale skin shift and swell and scratch and the shadow people dancing around his peripheral vision taunting and cajoling and ridiculing him and the absurdity of his final solution and because he didn’t know speed the way we now know speed he probably didn’t know anything about the shadow people at all from his perspective they might just as well have been the ghosts of his victims come to taunt and ridicule him in his lowest hour pointing and laughing and daring him to pull the trigger!   

The same entitlement motivates the mass shooter who imagines a world full of seven billion perfect strangers as an attack on his rightful pursuit of happiness. No one will sleep with him and he can’t make sense of his place in a world built on fucking so he begins to indulge in fantasies of coercion, revenging himself on the very public space he so craved Now if our hypothetical douchebag had any pretense of self-awareness he might have looked into the possibility of adopting several dogs, and in turn coming to see his life as a story about caring unconditionally for animals. That’s a helluva life-Saint Francis got into the catholic hall of fame for doing not a whole lot more. Or perhaps he could adjust his expectations of intimacy in consideration of the countless plain-to middling-to ugly folks who are forced to come to terms with the truth early on that all of our bodies are grotesque and hideously deformed billboard advertisements for our big beautiful impossibly dense souls-come see a kernel of divine inspiration made self-aware, shimmering in the glory of creation,  just two exits past the tits and chin and ankles and all the rest of our faulty parts. 

Now a discerning reader(however unlikely you’d be to find one in an audience consisting of absolutely fucking nobody lol) might have already begun to detect a certain heady strain of hypocrisy in this authors conclusion. Because while I'm not much of anything the one thing i certainly am is a self-destructive drug addict. So maybe its one thing for me to make fun of the cook for his wrath-filled flu-stricken infants tantrum of a way of viewing the world, assigning to his solipsism a generation-hopping solidarity with his nazi forefathers who came before and identifying in his politics the germinal seed of fascisms future, a politics so personal and self-contained that every divorce will be debated as if it were a stand in for larger cultural decay, every morning hangover a portent of spiritual decline, the vitals of the stock market remeasured and reassessed each time someone finds on the sidewalk a loose dollar bill. Political assemblies with real largesse exclusively devoted to trolling the instagram of a nebraskan man named doug’s now ex-wife  for pictures of her maui vacation with husband number two drinking mojitos on a beach with sand bleached white as bone and both of them grinning with surgical precision an opulent almost confrontational kind of public grinning Doug couldn't recall that bitch ever having felt for him and the kids off playing in the surf and well how could any concerned and conscientious citizen fail to see the basic threat to democracy that whole scene represents? Donald Trump is probably the loneliest man in the world. He’s never met another person. He spends his time wandering the halls of his head checking for reoccurrences of his own reflection, a lifetime spent pathologically re-telling the same story about how he came to be the most powerful person in the world, so that by the time he really became who he had always pretended to be, the most influential figure in the free world, he had long-since bought into his own fraud to such a great extent that even the real thing couldn’t compare. Only a selfishness and self-centeredness as grandiloquent as his could explain the mindset of the modern mass shooter and the micro-politics informing him. He confuses his head for the world and then becomes enraged when it won’t do as he wishes, cursing the rain for its cold lash against his shoulder where he’d rather there have rested warm summer glow, furious at the thought of all the people he would never meet in far-off places he would never see who never paid him any attention whatsoever. Playing peek-a-boo a little bit of cheating peer through chubby fingers arrayed like a geisha’s fan and for the first time see that objects don’t disappear without our gaze to ontologically anchor them to earth. What a hurt. Now it might be technically correct that my addiction does to my loving family what the selfishness of the mass shooter does to public space. It intrudes like an alien thing and turns the air chilly in our childhood home and it transforms the medicine cabinet into a contested territory in need of defensive fortification and now that Cassies marriage has crashed on the rocks of addiction nobody could blame her if she never allowed another addict to darken her doorstep again and there was the sight of Jan opening my trucks passenger side door and a few rigs fell out onto the floor and all the spoons in the house have one side burnt-and-bruised like a black-eye you say you got from falling down a flight of stairs despite body language that says something entirely else why is it we don’t have a single spoon in the house what ghost spends all night punching the walls full of holes 

recently went to an Alanon meeting to sneak a glimpse of how the other half lives...this lady said my addiction is to loving my addict. Bawled rivers out from red raw-rubbed rubber eyes and said my addiction is to my addict Not her person or qualifier or partner but her addict. Syntax almost seeming to suggest that something about the existential plight of the addict gets her intoxicated dizzy on pain. It’s quaint though cus that sort of sentiment is for fucking rookies-guarantee you no ones crying over me like a romantic. Not anymore. My thing these days is of a distinctly more shakespearian strand of tragedy, with wittgenstein and derrida’s influences also undeniable. I’m sick now in a way where people stop crying and praying you’ll find God and change and decide instead it’d be easier to just cross the street. Schizophrenics lost in a chorus meant only just for them, apocalyptic street preachers who stand on soap boxes while reeking of shit and give voice to visions of an America not our own, an alternate dimension where european arrival at the shores of the new world stalled out somewhere halfway across the pacific ocean on a wave so tall it scraped the heavens and America grew up a nation of nomads who set their watches to the rumbling migration of herds of buffalo and not even the highest priest could dream of a more beautiful idea than that of motion, movement without cease, the only acceptable fixed still frozen property being the burial mounds where the dead went after all their motion had gone-if they could view us on the other side of the looking glass stolen away in our own personal homes they would almost certainly come to the conclusion that this place where we live is just the land of the dead, a negative photograph of everything vital and good. Who would i be to disagree though, right? 

The point is anyway that some alchemical reaction of A. Mental illness and B. Amphetamine abuse has more or less stranded me in words. Verbs and nouns and adjectives and adverbs in place of sky and grass. What Fredric Jameson called the prison house of language. Where derrida’s difference goes to play for eternity, never quite meaning what it had meant to say. What shook wittgenstein speechless. The president’s rhetoric so hollow that you can almost see him suffering a kind of dementia or spiritual torpor that results from the badness of his faith. Chewing and chomping consonants and sounds till they all are made to mush and shearing syllable after syllable off the network of signification until all that’s left is one satellite pinging a distress call hello is anyone there off of its own side. It’s own side like Adam plucked Eve from his rib and said put on this dress-after they ate the fruit and God cast him/her out to walk the world alone reportedly God said have fun all alone you worthless slut. Imagine trumps final state of the union-i am very sick, i have been alone for as long as I can remember, i wish i hadn’t lied so often, i wish i had occasionally told the truth, i would trade all of it to have known just one person. 

Anyways, barring that miracle of political theater, the body gets sick and dissolves while the spirit is lost in words. I’d like to die in a bathroom stall in haughville with a rig stuck in my arm and the words I'm sorry stuck at the tip of my tongue and God decides to show some compassion and makes me a deal says you were never much good to people didn’t believe in a thing but you sure could do some impressive vomiting up of nonsense words and so what ill do is your soul will dissolve and turn into ink and for the rest of eternity you’ll be a naughty joke or a half-scribbled doggerel scrawled on the wall of a piss-soaked bathroom stall in the ghetto or you could say call this number here for a good time and don’t forget to ask for large marge and nobody’d ever suspect you were trapped in there or maybe a joke like this favorite of mine about my son it goes something like Jesus Christ was a God-awful carpenter, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Christ was a God-awful, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Couldn't pull a nail. Christ was God-awful. Couldn’t nail his own couldn’t save a carpenter terrible couldn’t pull god-awful a terrible carpenter he couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. I can’t pull this nail to save my own life. It’s right there sticking out of my wrist, but for whatever reason I just can’t find the right words to pull it out he was a carpenter who couldn’t pull a nail even if his life depended on it couldn't save his own life he couldn't-

For a good time call this number 1-555-555-5555 and don’t forget to ask for-

[blueboathome]

The inherent worth and dignity

Or, why listening to Trump voters isn’t the spiritual imperative that cishet white dude ministers keep telling you it is*.

Note: I wrote this over many days, in varying states of rage. I don’t know if it’s coherent at all, and I will probably go back and edit for readability, but today, when the House voted to strip my beautiful little boy of guaranteed healthcare, I needed to post…. Something.

Onward.

Look, a lot of very brilliant folks have laid out why this whole, sad undeducated duped “average American” with economic anxiety thing is a load of shit. It was racism all along, and greed. I won’t rehash it. If you need receipts, the internet is full of them. This is about why, specifically, it’s not a spiritual duty for UUs to make peace with Trump voters, but in fact the opposite.

I heard a guest minister this week preach about Universalism, and why we shouldn’t make the spiritual, political. The first part was great! The second was a message I’ve heard before, and I don’t buy it. At all. We cannot help but politicize spirituality, if a core tenet of our faith is recognizing the interest work and dignity of every human being. Today, when whether or not trans folks can participate in public life, is a matter of politics. When whether or not the people of Flint, or Navajo, can have clean water to drink and bathe in, is a matter of politics. When whether or not young Black men can walk down the street without being summarily executed by police who face no consequences, is a matter of politics– the UU faith must by needs be political, in social justice ministry and from the pulpit.

It is not just our 6th principle that must move us. It is the principle of “Justice, equity, and compassion in human relations.” It is “respect for the interdependent web of all existence"– when science is political, when climate change denial is political, so by nature is our faith.

It’s an absurd act of privilege to say that we must separate the personal from the political. Only those whose existence is not always politicized– the oppressors, not the oppressed. As a queer woman, my personal is already political. As the mother of a child with a pre-existing condition, my personal is political. My son’s very life is political– and he’s white.

It’s an absurd act of privilege to say that this election is not the end of the country, or the world. Historians and Holocaust survivors point out the terrifying similarities between the administration and authoritarian regimes. Climate scientists warn us that we may be past the point of no return. Historians are gauging how soon it will be before the President stages a coup, while he tweets about nuclear annihilation. It may well be the end of the country, or the world, and even if it isn’t, people will die. People experiencing homelessness, trans folks, PoC, Indigenous people.

The only way that reality is not panic-inducing is if those people are all “they” and Trump voters are all “like me.”

And this is the core of what I want to get at, the immediate need for a fundamental shift in who UUs we see as “us” and who we see as “them.”

White UUs have often, in recent non-turbulent times, secluded ourselves from the religious right, taking refuge with those who have shared ideas, and patting ourselves on the back that we’re not “that kind” of white person, all while white knighting in poor Brown neighborhoods. Deeds not Creeds, we say. We serve God by serving our fellow man, we say. In concept, this is why I came back to the church as an adult. I feel called by God to use my privilege to dismantle systems of oppression.

But when the rubber met the road this November, we didn’t even try to stay neutral. We didn’t stand firm with the people at imminent risk of death or deportation**. The knee jerk reaction was to stand with, make excuses for, coddle, and protect the oppressors. That’s what I, a white queer woman, hear when I hear a cishet white male preacher tell me to listen. Tell me to reach out. Tell me not to throw out my relationships over a difference of opinion. I’m stealing a line from a number of brilliant Black feminists when I say, a difference of opinion is whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza, not whether or not I am human. I can’t even imagine what Indigenous people and people of color hear in those sermons. When the rubber met the road, we said to them, we care more about our racist white auntie than our so called deeply held spiritual convictions.

White people need other white people to bring them down the garden path to not being child murdering “deep state” fearing bigoted assholes. As white people who are trying not to be a part of the kyriarchy, this is our responsibility to take on. 10000%. I’m not sure I agree that we need to GENTLY lead them– I think social ostracism has proven to work very well against bigotry, and we should do more of it.

We have to start thinking of ourselves, not as leaders of the revolution, not as outside aid, not as sympathetic supporters, but as comrades. We must form a protective circle around our brothers and sisters and say, we will use our privilege, for you are our family, and we renounce anyone who would hurt you

I know, it’s not very Uniting and Universalist of me, you are thinking. I want to cut out part of the world family, not give them a chance to change, to reconcile. Here is what is true. They already have cut us off. They want nothing to do with us. But by continuing to try to reconcile with them, we spit in the face of everyone they seek to harm, everyone we smugly purport to honor and seek justice for.

I truly do not believe that the core of Unitarian Universalism AS A FAITH, is made up of rotten, status-quo-upholding, don’t-punch-Nazis, servile obsequiousness to politeness and false unity over true justice and equality. I just. don’t. believe. that that’s what our actual set of beliefs is telling us. I think it’s a bunch of white dudes telling you to stay calm and don’t rock the boat, and using their spiritual authority to do so. We’re UUs. We don’t, historically, stay calm. We do, historically, rock the effing boat. (Cue links to stories of UUs in history standing against their traditionalist neighbors about things like, oh, abolition)

We are like, the Apex of people who like to sit around and talk about how we stood up at key moments in history and said what was right instead of what was popular. This is that moment. We are right in the damned middle of it. We need to be standing up, or shutting up forever about our commitment to social justice. We do not need to be building bridges with people who want trans kids to die, think Mexicans are rapists, and want to burn Muslims. We need to be building bridges with trans kids, and Mexicans, and Muslims. We CANNOT DO THAT, fundamentally cannot, by giving space and respect to people who want them dead.

*I know a lot of y'all go to MUCH more progressive churches than we have here. I’ve been to them, in Tucson, in ABQ. I know there are (mostly women) ministers preaching about things like the humane necessity of abortion and human rights violations by the border patrol. I’ve sat in those sermons. That is the kind of UU I want to see all over the country, and I know I’m not tilting at windmills because I’ve seen it in action.

**Many churches did trainings on what to do to help those in danger of deportation, became sanctuaries, etc. Woot! I heard this same message in some of them, and I think the message from the pulpit needs to match the social justice action.

Basically all of these footnotes are “not all UUs! Maybe only the churches I’m going to have this happening! Maybe it’s a freak coincidence!”

#unitarian universalist #progressive faith #god #or whatever #always punch nazis

[teaandspacekittens-blog]

How to Rock an Apron (Part 2) - A Klance High School AU

I was hoping to finish this up in 2 parts, but alas, the words started getting away from me yet again.  i decided to break it up and post this part in celebration of S2 (there are no spoilers though, so you’re safe).  You can find part 1 HERE.  There will be one more part after this, and it’s almost finished, so yay!  Thanks again to the friends who cheered this on while it was happening.

The hell of it was, the bastard was right.  It was unfair - really, really unfair Keith's poor beleaguered sanity interjected - how attractive Lance managed to make the same apron every other student was wearing look.  The same criminally pink shade that made the rest of them look ill somehow complimented Lance's hair and skin and made them look luminous.  The cut that didn't work on anyone else made his shoulders broader, his waist thinner, and his legs longer - something about the lines it created suggested bendy to Keith's brain, but Keith suspected his brain was a filthy pervert.

He should look just as ridiculous as the rest of them - and in a way he did - but the way he owned it the way other kids tried to do and failed utterly took the absurdity and flipped it on its head and left Lance looking stupidly hot.  The combination of his brazenness and the frills and his dirty grin and his ridiculous fucking face somehow added up to an overall look that was somewhere between adorable and filthy hot to the point of obscenity.

The things Keith had imagined doing to Lance in that apron, on top of that apron, using that apron as a prop, would haunt him for the rest of his life.  Or until his dick fell off from over-handling.

Of course there was no way he was actually telling Lance any of that.  He was horny and pathetic not suicidal, thank you.  Although there was something in the air between them, something pregnant and pulsing, a tension that felt delicious in its pressure but so close to popping Keith didn't know if there was anything they could do to maintain it.  He really didn't want to anyway.  He raised a gently mocking eyebrow.  "Strangely, you have found a way to make it work for you."

Grinning, Lance fluttered his eyelashes outrageously.  "Of course I do."  He smoothed his hands over the stretch of the apron over his hips.  "I'm the prettiest princess in all the land."

He said that without an ounce of shame, or humor, or anything else that indicated it was supposed to be a joke or something.  Keith seriously fucking loved that about him.  Lance legitimately did not care about how "masculine" he was or if others perceived him as feminine. Their second week of school, some dumb jock had thought he'd come up with a real zinger when he told Lance, "only girls take Home Ec dude, you a girl now or something, Sanchez?" and Lance had just looked at him and said, "and if I am?  You say that like it's something to be embarrassed about.  I dare you to tell my mom or one of my sisters they should be ashamed of being female."  Keith thought that might have been the moment he got in so deep.

So yeah, it was stupid hot that Lance was comfortable wearing girl things and calling himself a pretty princess and it not really meaning anything other than that he liked those things - but it was also stupid fucking brave of him too, and that might be what really did it for Keith.  Either way, it gave him the courage not to laugh or play it off either.  He hummed thoughtfully.  "Huh, you might just be," he muttered like he hadn't been thinking that Lance was the prettiest boy he'd ever seen on a pretty much daily basis for months.

The bubble of whatever between them popped - it was clear as day on Lance's face.  Heat chased shock through his expression and he ducked his head a little like he was suddenly shy.  "Yeah, you think so?"  His voice was rough, like the words had been dumped into a blender with a pound of gravel yet somehow still fragile and hopeful.

In a flash the inevitability of this moment exploded in Keith's brain in a shower of electric sparks.  The saying went that you saw your life flash before your eyes before you died, and this wasn't a near death experience, and it wasn't his whole life, but Keith was definitely seeing still images like bursts of memory superimposed on this moment, a replay of everything that had led him here.

Like he'd been asked to make a timeline, Keith relived their first argument in the hallway, Lance's opening volley in their prank war, the escalation of their stupid rivalry, and the moment when Vice Principal Iverson had caught them both red-handed trying to pull off separate pranks at the same time in the teacher's lounge and arguing over who got there first.

They'd of course been immediately hauled to the office and subjected to a diatribe on their lack of discipline, but Keith couldn't remember any of the words Iverson had snarled.  It was the ghost of the self-satisfied smile Lance had flashed at Keith every time Iverson looked away the crept through Keith's brain now.  Followed by the stunned look of horror that had replaced it when the VP had dropped the bombshell that they would both have to attend a detention hour for their last period for the entire year.

No amount of pleading had been able to convince Iverson to change his mind about that and Keith remembered the apologetic look the guidance councilor had worn when informing the two of them that rearranging their schedules to accommodate the punishment meant the only elective available to them was Home Ec if they wanted to fit in all the requirements for graduation.

The images kept coming, so many overwhelming him: the first time he'd put on this ridiculous apron; the first time he'd seen lance in his; the day he realized sewing was a piece of cake, cooking he could do passably well, but baking was simply out of the question; the look on Shiro's face when he'd suggested Keith ask Lance for help with this cupcake assignment so he didn't fail (since Lance was inexplicably good at baking for some reason); the way Lance hadn't reacted like it was weird at all when Keith had caved and took Shiro's advice; the look of faint amusement on their teacher's face when they'd asked to borrow the classroom kitchen after school.

All of it was a clear path from that first moment to this one and Keith could see now that they had always been heading here.  The two of them were a runaway train headed for the bridge that was out - and there was no way they weren't gonna go over that cliff.  Once they'd set that first wheel in motion there was no getting off this track.  Keith could blame Iverson, or Shiro, or himself, or his hormones, or anyone else he wanted - but the truth of the matter was that fate was really the one to blame. They were destined to tumble over this edge together, go out in a blaze of glory - egging each other on the whole time.

Knowing that made it easy - so fucking easy - to take a step, get in Lance's space, crowd him against the counter and cage him in, bracing his hands on the table, one on either side of Lance's hips.  "Mhmm."  he leaned forward and whispered the rest straight into Lance's ear.  "I think you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

A fine tremor rolled up Lance's spine.  They were still close enough that it had their bodies just barely brushing against each other in interesting ways.  He sucked in a stilted breath that sounded like he only vaguely remembered how to do that breathing thing.  "I wanted you the first second I saw you," he blurted.

Keith pulled back enough to look at Lance, dying inside at how edible the faint blush staining the bridge of his nose made him look.  He raised an eyebrow.  "Oh yeah?"

Lance bit his lip and nodded, flushing darker.  "And then hated myself immediately.  Fingerless gloves.  Popped collar.  Mullet.  All things one should not have to list when describing their crush."

Keith just stared at him.  "You hung an eight foot poster in the gym before the first student assembly.  Of yourself.  Dabbing."  He gave Lance a pointed look.  "You think I'm not questioning my life choices constantly?"

That cocky little smirk of Lance's that seemed to exist just to test Keith's grip on his self control made a reappearance at that.  Lance leaned back against the counter and tipped his chin up.  "Yeah?  You come up with any answers yet?"

Keith leaned in closer, enough that all it would take to press their lips together would be one of them tilting their head a little.  He offered his own smug smirk.  "Is this a multiple choice question?"

Lance laughed, breath puffing against Keith's lips.  "A) I'm a powerful warlock that has cast a spell on you, causing you to become enchanted with me.  B) You're just really into delightfully tacky shit - as evidenced by your wardrobe.  C) This was Iverson's plan all along because he figured if we were too busy hitting on each other then we couldn't have time to keep our prank war going.  or D) This was always going to happen and even though it's insane and probably very ill-advised we should just go with it and crash and burn together."

Keith smiled and dared to move his hands from the table to Lance's hips, heart beating wild and fast against his ribs.  "You forgot a few."

Lance raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands, curling them into the fabric of Keith's t-shirt just above his waist.  "Enlighten me."

Was flirting supposed to be this much fun?  Was it supposed to feel this much like what they used to do when they were "rivals?"  Keith's blood sang with the thrill of competition, the hind-brain desire to prove his strength and cunning to a potential mate.  It was heady, and arousing, and addictive - but most of all it was just really, really fun.  He rubbed his thumbs absently over the ridge of Lance's hipbones, noting the way every part of Lance he'd touched so far seemed to fit perfectly in his hands.  "E) This was Iverson's plan all along, but it's going to backfire because the two of us teaming up will cause him far more hell than we ever could have separately.  And F) all of the above."

Lance curled his fingers tighter around the fabric of Keith's shirt, bunching it up so that his knuckles just barely grazed Keith's skin.  He smiled when Keith shivered at the light contact.  "You have a final answer, or do you need to phone a friend?"

A hundred witty responses pushed themselves to the forefront of Keith's brain, but he realized that the two of them could probably keep this game going forever if they wanted to.  And... Lance was touching him, skin on skin and they were damn near pressed together, they were close enough that Keith could kiss him if he wanted to (spoiler alert: he very much wanted to).  So why in the fuck would he worry about keeping this lively back and forth going when what he should really be trying to do was end it as quickly as possible in favor of trying to get his mouth on Lance's?  He snorted and answered, "All of the above."

Rolling his eyes, Lance whispered, "it's always 'all of the above,'" before surging forward and kissing Keith

#klance #my fic #Fluff #and humor #high school au #baking lessons #lance still rocks his apron #keith still questions his choice in boys #but not really #because lance *really* rocks his apron

[smashpanda]

Ani-Me #13: Groovin’ To That COWBOY BEBOP (Ep. 1-13)

Welcome to Ani-Me! The Series Where You Make Me Watch Anime! To be clear, you aren’t making me do anything because I have enjoyed every bit of this so far.

And surprise, nerds! Look what I’m doing! Haha, I actually had this whole fun plan to do the anime poll and then Ozymandias-style be like “I already WATCHED THE WHOLE SHOW!!!” But it would take too long to finish watching all of it (it’s been a busy as hell month). Besides, I got half way through the show and decided that was definitely enough space to really dig into how I was feeling about the start. So without further ado, it’s time for…

Today’s Entry: COWBOY BEBOP (1998-1999)

So, I’m doing this because I felt like I needed to have reckoning with this show.

That’s because I actually tried watching it once before. This was about 10 years ago. An old friend thought it was positively insane that I had never seen it before. He wasn’t the first to sing its praises either. Even at the time I was open to the idea and gave it the old college try for a bunch of episodes, but… it didn’t take. I think I was mostly crashing up against the proverbial rocks of all those tangible details I was not prepared for. Which were really just the kinds of things that had kept me out of anime for so long. Like the facial contortions being so different from western animation. Or the way this particular story seemed to fixate on cool posturing in a way that likely would have more appealed to me during my teenage years. Heck, I was even wondering why there was a romantic, emotional pop song at the end (again, I had REALLY not seen a lot of anime). Then there was that very complicated issue of “fan service,” because I was watching with someone who was like WHY ARE HER BOOBS ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE!?!?! Simply put: they were really not having it. Plus the fact that we were watching the dubbed version, which felt like it played into a number of sexist tropes. So much of this was the problem with my initial experience.

But I imagine anime fans are so fucking tired of these kinds of complaints from outsiders, no? Hell, even just a year into this column series, I’m tired of them, too. But here’s the thing: these complaints are the common obstacles for outsiders and some are not without merit. And as much the casual dismissal from outsiders about anime can rankle, it’s also important to remember how it is for the outsiders - to realize how much of that anime-fan tiredness manifests online in the forms of equally-casual dismissals (mostly from toxic white dudes) for “not getting fan service,” etc. Point is, misunderstanding and excuse-making can go in a lot of directions. And honestly it was all part of the system of why I think I stayed away from anime for so long?

Thankfully, everything’s about timing.

So much of this column series has been about throwing myself in the deep end, getting used to the cinematic language, knowing the filmmakers, and growing comfortable with the cadence of a particular form. But honestly, I think so much of it has to do with just being much older, too. Basically, I calmed the fuck down. The previous things that bothered me are still there, but it just feels like so much less of a big deal. Even “the rules” of what I tend to believe about storytelling are so much more expansive. As they say, finally “I’m not young enough to think I know everything.” Along with that, there’s the popular online joke that something “hits different,” but coming back to Cowboy Bebop after a decade… it hits different. Like I said, timing is everything. Which brings us to another reason I really wanted to do this now…

So John Cho goes to my grocery store a lot.

A little while ago I saw him in full Spike hair and it was rad as hell.

So I’ve also been thinking a lot (read: too much) about how to cover Anime TV. Ideally, I like the idea of doing one giant essay about a series, but sometimes 1) overall thoughts don’t take on essay-like form the way they did with, say, Evangelion. And 2) that sometimes takes out the fun of talking about little things in each episode. But at the same time, I don’t want to feel the need to do the FULL RECAP thing with every episode, which sometimes bogs down the more important thoughts / gets repetitive (I felt like I ended up doing that with a lot of Korra recaps). So really, it’s going to be a case by case basis. And for Cowboy Bebop, I decided on a sort of “fly casual” approach with no plot recapping - just the evolution of my thoughts along with some other random passing ones. And it will all likely crest into big overall thoughts that will come with the end of the series.

Cool? Cool.

1. ASTEROID BLUES

“Oh, this is good, isn’t it?”

I said this to myself while watching and I simply cannot explain the difference the subs make for me personally when it comes to this show. Like I know the dub has a lot of fans and history, but everything about hearing the show in Japanese just plays stronger to me. The rhythm, the cadence, and most of all the timing of jokes. There’s just this way each of their voices better line up with the droll affectation of the show. Combine that with me finally being used to a lot of anime’s particularly cinematic language? The show just plays so FUNNY now. Like I’m laughing out loud four times an episode. But that’s not the only thing that’s changed.

When I tried watching a decade ago, there was also this funny thing where I was having a very different relationship to the cinematic affectations of the late 90’s. Like how much of this episode reflects the El Mariachi / Desperado machismo that defined a certain kind of posturing coolness. Back then I worried a lot about that specific brand of indulgence. But now it all feels so silly and playful (as if, at the time, I wasn’t so much reacting to the worry of that coolness as how much the me of TWO decades would have eaten it up). Like I was the perfect age when this show came out the first time.

But I think that’s the real thing that hits me now with the episode: how playful it all feels. Like the absurd shot of the woman leaning on the counter to drink beer, the cat drinking all the crap on the ground, the sole motive of wanting beef, and Spike fitting a whole sandwich in his mouth. It takes none of these things seriously - except when it takes them seriously, of course. The episode’s structure is really built around the two bait and switches. The first is the fun fake pregnancy where it turns out that’s where she keeps the vials. And the second - tragic, with her death. Fast. Brutal. Forlorn. From minute one it’s sort of spelling out the tonal nature of this show: the fast loose hijinks > serious comeuppance > the Sisyphean process of bounty hunting without success… But hey, at least they got that beef.

It’s an apt metaphor.

2. STRAY DOG STRUT

In my original go round, I remember this being the episode liking this enough to stick with it longer. But now it plays even better. It’s kind of a classic fun and games episode, with the great set-up for the dog reveal - and the classic “lose but kinda win” ending a la Santa’s Little Helper (along with the dramatic irony that the dog is worth millions). I think I actually referenced this two columns ago, but there’s this kind of “kafka-esque’’ funny edge to the show. That “there is hope, but not for us” sentiment that populates a show of lovable losers trying and failing to navigate life’s absurdity.

But what I also like is that it’s not from a complete lack of competence. The gag where they both look up from the aquarium and Spike’s already got the gun drawn? That’s perfect stuff. Same goes with Spike absent-mindedly missing Abdul because he has shit on his foot. Both help establish this incredibly enduring character that thrives on both confidence and a genuine lack of awareness (which is often how he is able to pull a fast one on the audience, too).

The episode also helps clarify the show’s setting of an American Cultural Diaspora, filtered through the lens of Japanese culture. Could the Abdul stuff read as problematic? Oh absolutely, but the Game of Death / Way of the Dragon reference is also so singular to Kareem Abdul Jabbar’s influence that I’m not sure how much intention exists from the creators outside of it. And for an episode that delivers hijinks like Spike stealing the “just married” car and the incredible sound cue / animation of the corgi slapping onto the hood of his ship… I can’t help but smile.

3. HONKY TONK WOMAN

Ahhhhhh Faye Valentine. It’s funny, I wont say that I’m “used” to fan service at this point, nor really have any interest in excusing its extreme nature… I’m just sort of not letting it stop me from engaging everything around it? Does that make sense? But once again, I can’t explain just how much original language helps her character specifically. Megumi Hayashibara has this kind of wonderfully bored, disinterested tone that fits the characterization better.

The other thing that really hit with this episode was the James Bond-ness of the series (I mean in this gambling-centric episode drrr). But it’s the riff on the silhouettes in the opening titles, the pastiche of cool, and again, I keep coming back to that late 90’s disaffection that falls in line with Bond’s unruffled ethos. To wit, there’s a reason young men like disaffected characters, of course. In that it’s just as much of a power fantasy as so many other things are. They have all these budding, confused emotions and life feels so uncontrollable, so it becomes easy to grasp onto characters who play it cool, who show suaveness and are unbothered by the ups and downs going around them. Of course they want to be like that.

Which would normally be a possible “indulgence problem” if this show wasn’t also so keen on taking the piss out of Spike and company. That’s the thing: it’s just so damn playful at the same time. Unlike something Bond-esque, it’s always looking to make Spike the punchline. And the twisty, confusion-laden plots of chip-swapping and rubes and one one-ups-man-ship? I cackled constantly. And I have to say the fight in this one is so, so good. And the last line?

“Bye” … chef’s kiss… is… is that thing the kids still say?

insert grandpa face

4. GATEWAY SHUFFLE

It’s probably weird that THIS is the thing that most stands out to me, but it’s weird how much Twinkle reminds me of “Mom” from Futurama, right down to her large adult sons. I also like how much the episode plays with the dramatic irony of Spike and company being totally oblivious idiots (which will be a running gag), especially them on the verge of killing themselves with the virus. Also also, it establishes the sheer volume of problems that Spike fixes with sleight of hand. Also also also, there’s the fact that this episode is where Faye joins the team for good, thus setting up the fun larger team dynamics.

Is it weird that I don’t have much more to say about this one? It sort of reflects the way some Bebop episodes just feel slight in a way, which isn’t to say they aren’t fun or don’t have good gags. It’s just sort of the nature of this show, sometimes. Cause you’ll get an episode like this and then the next time you’ll get… Well, you’ll get an episode like…

5. BALLAD OF FALLEN ANGELS

“Who is this Sephriroth mother fucker?!?!?”

Such is the way I noted the entrance of Vicious. Given the overlapping timeline, I’m guessing there was something about long gray haired evil dudes with big swords in the water? Either way, the far more obvious influence on this one is John Woo. There’s the gunplay. The cathedral. The operatic posturing. It all brings me back to a place and time so vividly. That place and time being a teenager in the 90’s with a camcorder, boy, I can’t tell you how often we ran around with toy pistols diving off to the side and putting it in slow motion (we could never seem to find doves, but were always on the hunt for a group of pigeons to run through). This instinct also highlights the potential problems with these tropes. It would be SO easy for this to be nothing more than juvenile posturing / copying an en vogue aesthetic, but - as I’m learning is common for this show - Cowboy Bebop kind of hits this different note entirely…

Mostly thanks to the score. Because it all comes back to that ending with the haunting chorus of Green Bird, which gives me an array of complex feelings (along with it being a song I’ve had in my head for weeks now). On a pure aesthetic level, the scene is perfect. The pure combination of image, sound, and symbolism to hit an emotional response so squarely. A decade ago I felt this moment was more about hiding the story in a way - as if teasing backstory instead of even showing it - which isn’t entirely wrong, but now it feels more economical than anything, merely touching a lot I can have patience that will be dealt with . And more important than the specifics is understanding what it means to Spike emotionally - how much Vicious is part of his life and lost love and injury and pain, the cycles of opera and birth death rebirth death that all fit the same lyrics to the song…

“Spring has come

Worms are showing their faces

Little birds are eating them

Spring has come

Children are going to school

Farm dogs are giving birth to puppies

Spring has come

Women are looking in mirrors

Egg pies are baking”

In short, I understand why it’s a classic.

6. SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

It’s here I realize that writing about Cowboy Bebop is a bit counter to my general instincts. For I’m someone who likes digging into problems because it helps me understand things. With Korra or Falcon and The Winter Solider or something, I can stop, dig into the structural problems of a given episode, talk about approach, and feel like everyone was coming out the other side with a bigger understanding. I get that sense of purpose. But what’s odd about this show is everything is incredibly sound on the writing front. Every weekly “session” gives us a contained, thoughtful, playful little story with little differing nuances (it actually reminds me a lot of the Lone Wolf and Cub story structure, which yes, I’ve read all of by the way). And it’s no different with this episode (which also reminded me a bit of the ventriloquist dummy episode of Buffy?). There’s even so many really great things that stand out. Like this is the first episode where Faye really clicked for me (the gag where she casually eats the dog food is an all-timer). I also loved the kid getting Last Crusade-ed at the end.

But the “what makes us care” is a whole other ball of wax. Because this was the last episode I watched in my initial trial a decade ago. There wasn’t any big reason I stopped, just that simple lack of interest. And I think it speaks to the trouble of telling stories about disaffected characters. The whole idea is that they’re often hiding pain or interest or backstory or whatever else. Then the idea is you’re slowly supposed to peer in (and I’m far enough into the show to know how they do that). But if you’re not really all in on a character’s emotional journey from those critical starts? Sometimes it’s hard to work up that investment. If I was watching this as a teenager in the 90’s? I would likely have a whole different feeling because I’m watching in more of an aspirational sense. But watching an episode like this, from where I am now? I understand why it’s easy to feel a lack of connection, even when the boy is giving all the tears about the release of death… It feels like an emotion on display, a thing I’m looking at, but kept a distance from - and thus a harder thing to certainly feel.

7. HEAVY METAL QUEEN

For shits and giggles I watched this one with dub. It’s interesting because it instantly reminded me that part of the reason I like subs so much is it needs your undivided attention. With the dub? Suddenly my eyes could wander, sometimes to twitter sometimes and then I’d realize I missed something and rewind a second. In that capacity the subs are actually allowing for more distraction? Which is why 1) I worry that most shows seem designed to be watched with someone half paying attention and 2) I tend to watch things sans phone as much as possible. Look, it’s not that this multitasking activity is “bad” inherently. I love listening to podcasts as I cook or clean. It’s just with cinema it’s so easy to do and miss out on what I really want to be doing. Which is being enveloped in a story.

Anyway, I’m more or less good with this episode. I wish I had more to say than that. But once again I feel like I’m coming out of an episode with an “okay, that was solid” feeling. Perhaps because also plays into 90’s dated-ness in a way where all the things that should feel modern feel just so… heteronormative? I dunno. It’s like VT feels like a character I should be adoring, but with 20 years she feels like a half-measure. And even at the time, it’s really hard to get past the dude in the sombrero ogling the waitress who looks like lady liberty. Like, the gross metaphor is utterly clear, and not in a way where it’s countering it on any level. But there’s always those moments of elation, like Spike firing his space gun to better direct himself back - that make the show still feel special.

8. WALTZ FOR VENUS

So this is the first episode I unequivocally loved.

Perhaps it’s just because it does some of my absolute favorite writing things. Like, hurray! They finally got paid! But true to understanding their ethos, it happens almost immediately in the opening, thus setting up proper expectations for what is to follow. And then it does my absolutely favorite thing, which is make you absolutely care for a character you hate without realizing that’s what it’s doing. Roco at first comes off as annoying, jealous, brash, etc. But with time and perspective, the eagerness ends up being motivated. And the way it all crests into him using the “like water” teachings of Spike’s supernatural reflexes? Perfect moment!

And then he gets fucking shot.

I literally screamed NO in my living room. But that’s what good writing does, it takes you through journeys subtlety then knocks you on your ass with whiplashing emotion (I also realized this entire beat, right down to the thumbs up in the middle, happens in Mad Max: Fury Road). And what’s more is that even on death’s door stop, all his eagerness and wonder could be summed up in that youthful question: “Hey, if I knew you earlier, would we have been friends?” Gah, it’s just gutting. And so absolutely perfect in its dramatic articulation.

With this kind of competent writing on the “fun / plot” level, it’s also funny how much I remember the little details that the show is so good at. Like the use of the Hagia Sophia on Venus. Or the way the rich guy shouts to save himself and then gets his toupee knocked off.

… And then there’s those super gay panic 90’s details like shoving the gun in gay man’s throat that make my skin fucking crawl. As good as things can be, those ugly shadows loom large.

9. JAMMING WITH EDWARD

I love that they finally get around to explaining why earth sucks and everyone is in space in episode 9! This is also one of those episodes where the cyberpunky-ness of a rogue A.I. would play more fresh back in the late 90’s? By now it’s just hard to grab onto, given how many times we’ve seen this plot done again and again. But thankfully, the show has the complete dignity to continue its tradition of being playful instead of serious, in that MPU is a little freaking weirdo whom I am glad escapes.

I sort of don’t know what to make of Ed yet? I like certain affectations and weirdness, but I’m hoping it crests into something interesting. Otherwise, most of my notes cater around very specific reactions to moments. Like how Nazca lines were just in my trivia league! Or how the episode had huge Android: Netrunner vibes! Also a Summer Wars-like internet world! And great quotes like “there’s nothing made on earth that’s good” and paying it off with the cheap missile firing a dud.

But I also just want to mention lines like, “I hear that that hacker is gay hahaha” which I want to come back to because I don’t think is just a “Japanese culture” thing. That’s a “90’s gay panic” thing. And what’s important to talk about with these moments is that I don’t handwave them now as being dated and in the past. Because they weren’t “the past” for me. They were what I lived in. And revisiting it all from where I am now makes me FURIOUS. That’s because they were all part of a gay panic culture of the 90’s than gave me so many internal complexes and fears about being bisexual (I didn’t understand that’s what I was, really, I was mostly terrified I was gay and thought it would literally get me killed) and bunch of other stuff. It was just brutal. And I spent that entire decade around all this kind of media being like “hahahhahaha no big deal, right guys?” and I didn’t realize inside it was just tearing me apart - in the worst sense of making me deeply afraid in myself. It wasn’t the past, it was hell.

Anyway!

10. GANYMEDE ELEGY

I was wondering when we’d get to a Jet episode. So far he’s been the kind of character I don’t know much to make of. He mostly exists to be a no-nonsense foil to Spike’s irreverence. But even in this episode, a lot of his gruffness comes off as harmless, but then there’s the “be strong for her” ggRrrRRrrr pRoTeCt wOmAn philosophy just rubs me the wrong way. Though I think there’s a lot of valid reasons people gravitate toward characters like Jet? Even if I hesitate to get all pop-psych with it, I think characters like this remind a lot of people of their dads? I dunno, more curious what others think.

But Jet’s backstory completely fits it with what I’m now calling the C.B.M.O. (Cowboy Bebop Modus Operandi) in that it presents a forlorn, almost classical noir backstory - doesn’t go too deep with it, leans heavy on the pastiche, but at least has the dignity to be fun in the process. And by the time we get to the ending, the final confrontation with Alisa and Rhint still plays emotionally valid, which I think is all you need in this show (including strong thematic gestures of literally throwing the watch AKA your past into the ocean).

But also once again, what’s more burned into my mind is little moments and decisions. It’s trying to light the lighter with the bad memory cooked up in your head. It’s underlining the dramatic irony of tragedy with cutting lines like “this must be because i have good karma.” Also that end song totally sounded a lot like Seal’s “Kiss From A Rose.” Also we got gem lines like…

“I live and wander with a group of weirdos now”

I do, too… I do, too.

11. TOYS IN THE ATTIC

Let’s get right to the plum gag: bahahahahahhahahah the alien being an advanced form of leaving lobster in the fridge is just SO AMAZING. I was cackling like mad.

And honestly, I think the lead up with the entire episode was pretty damn great. It just has a completely different energy, not just in regards to playing with the sci-fi / horror tropes (which it’s not laying it on thick or anything), it’s just this fun verve. You feel it in the energy of how everyone hangs out. Like Faye completely taking Jet for all he’s worth in the strip poker game and his “honorable” reaction (this side of Jet’s gruffness I like a lot more). Which all just serves as the perfect dramatic irony of the encroaching, otherworldly horror. It also sideswipes these great little lines about how humans “quickly forgot the lessons they just learned.” And once again we get an episode where all the highs are in the little details, like the little beat where the alien good wiggles again before it’s fully melted. Even the episode’s overlaid vignette structure about lessons (which could be trite when applied in gauche fashion) instead only exists as a distracting bit of artifice that is only really leading to a sublime gag: “You shouldn’t leave things in the fridge… that is the lesson.”

Five stars. Would rent again.

12.-13. JUPITER JAZZ - PART 1 AND PART 2

I feel like it makes sense to write about these two episodes as a single entity.

First off, I have to say how much I like the pacing of them. Most of the sessions of Cowboy Bebop are lean, mean, and economical, which is all part of the fun. But even though the show has its moments of rest / down time,” it’s often rushing through conflict and rarely milking the drama in a way that lets you sit with the tension. Which just means I rarely feel like we ever have a real chance to just dig into a longer story pace. Which is of course what we finally get in this mid-point two part epic that brings us back to Vicious. Which, of course, we all suspected would happen (I say this like we’re all watching the show live for the first time, haha). But now that we’re finally getting into the story itself…

I’m not sure how crazy I am about it? Like, it’s all coming back to that problem of “how much do I really care about all these characters?” I like them and stuff. Really, I do. And it’s really nice to get moments of genuine emotion, like when Spike gets legitimately angry at being called Vicious. But there’s just this thing where I can’t get the emotional investment in the show to really drive that constant want of engagement. There’s fallibility, but so little genuine vulnerability. So it’s not really the kind of show you “lean into.” Which is all part of the ongoing cool disaffection. But hey, isn’t that just how noir operates?

The thing most people don’t understand about noir is that all that disaffection and hidden emotion always bubbles up by the story’s end, often in the spectacular ways of coming undone. Like, the vulnerability explodes by the end. But with a TV show slowly dolling that out like four times across 26 hours? Yeah, that’s not what the noir structure was built for so it just makes it harder to engage. Particularly when characters like Vicious still feel like cyphers in a way. Same goes for the way Julia feels like that haunting ghost. Like we learned “more” about them, but I don’t feel “closer” if that makes sense.

And it also doesn’t help matters that these episodes do some of my least favorite story tropes. Like when a female character is like, “I’m a girl who can take care of myself!” which seems to position them as not being the damsel, but then the male character saves them anyway, which just makes them EXTRA good at rescuing the kind of super-capable women who think they’re above damsel-ing! The fact it does so on the sly that feels even ickier than that. Same goes for yet more homophobia in the episode. And speaking of LGBT+ treatment…

I have NO idea what the heck to think of Gren? Like did they really say that Gren just got a hormonal imbalance from insomnia from going to prison??? Wut??? I don’t want to google things until I’m done with the show but needless to say I’ll be reading from trans / non-binary writers on the subject because I’m having huge flashbacks to The Crying Game discourse that so radically shaped more 90’s-ness when it comes to this stuff. Speaking of which, of course the character dies. And it’s amazing how many people don’t even recognize the problems of this trope, or even that it IS a trope. The reason the “kill your gays” trope exists is because it’s always written by straight people trying to grab other straight people’s sympathy (look, see now you care about this character because they died and that’s sad!) Meanwhile it only teaches LBGT+ people that they are doomed and should be afraid and that their “sacrifice” only exists to teach the straights lessons or whatever. Again, we’re just back in 90’s tropes that I internalized and have come to resent in much more meaningful fashion.

And yet, despite all the things that stick in my craw, this show always has these little things that seep right into my brain and stay there. Like that moment where Lin dies and Vicious clarifies, “he protected the rules,” which is just a forehead-slapper of a perfect line. And then the last little variation on the end title that really hits you: “Do you have a comrade?” Oof. These little things are what makes me ultimately care about the show. It’s not the drama. It’s the little ingenious moments that stick in there and keep rattling around in my brain.

Speaking of brain rattles, this also finally brings us to why I also felt comfortable stopping halfway through the show to write all this down… The other night I felt inclined to start listening to the soundtrack and it was all just there in my brain already, set in stone.

Point being, I’m in.

<3HULK

[mmjjbbaannkkss]

2019 December 9-14 Half-week Notes, Vitamin-B

“Let reality be reality.” - Lao Tzu

Finally started B-complex after waking up too early, made me sleep again. I only took niacin during workouts and with fatty foods, but B-comp is for all food types. It’s a vitamin that vegans might be lacking, research implies in mornings B absorbs better, explaining why an empty stomach mid-workout started flushing niacin into circulation. Pre workout powders and drinks for years, like most ppl, but even then not in high levels, and B-comp has a safer level. 

Niacin opens capillaries, causing itching as some even burst, causing heat and metabolism also, but even before my new health-focused life, there were intense moments, hiking or fighting, work or play, leaving mature muscle with more vascular density, vessel amount, and fewer capillary requirements. So wouldn’t itch/flush as much, and larger still, and BMI higher means no capillaries in the fat, so only flushing around the thin skin. 

B vitamins assist energy for cellular or hormonal purposes. Consult a doctor, I’m no doctor. This is my personal diet, grains and greens, work and whey, meat and mattress, that’s my grind. I’m also assuming soy sauce phytoestrogens break down quicker than meat’s estrogen, allegedly block meat-estrogen in the process, and supplies in theory a ‘pre-digested’ protein/amino source. The lower sodium version is literally called “liquid aminos,” and with B my energy is good. 

Don’t eat fiber b4 a workout, it needs water just to digest, and then sits waterlogged until it does, protein bars are high fiber. B might, metabolize sugar faster than you can use it in a session, turning fuel into adipose fat. Implying, meat might make donuts MORE dangerous -- and yet gamer fuel has B plus SUGAR, 30 grams of sugar is heavy like a donut. 

Stomach digests junk food with natural enzymes, not vitamins/minerals, fats and meats burn slower overnight, waking less hungry, unhealthy fat in the blood has to be removed thru filter organs or used as energy, B-something helps with fat-to-energy and is naturally occurring in meats, match that-B to the meat with the highest level, and it calculates artificially leaner, and you might be energized by morning. Or, eat less and less-of unhealthy fats so your blood is purer. 

Superhero blood, not bacon-wrapped donut blood. B is NEVER an alternative to real food, but in a zombie apocalypse, the soy sauce aisle will be empty and you can watch the landscape. 

Do if you do. Don't if you don't.

Week 1 (mixed: heavy-slow, lite-slow) Gauge weight/ability, practice strong reps, try resting between each rep if too heavy. 

2019 Dec 09 Monday

Truck engine won’t fire-up, if only spark plugs, cabling, is a minor issue aside from costs, keeping me from the gym today. The little truck, aka the pickup, battery dead, prolly bad rear brakes, maybe bad transmission. Will likely be w/o gym whole week. 

Already carbed up for workout tho, so to balance, am going to eat eggs and one tortilla, with liquid aminos. Using the breakfast carbs as biotic thermo-catalyst-conducive energy to metabolize the protein (into aminos), and later take a B-supp to improve fat catabolic ‘uptake’ to clean the blood for tomorrow, whichever should happen. And tea/whey. 

Not feeling inspired to do a calisthenic chest day in the bedroom, tomorrow will do taiji, defs walk probz to the bank, talk to the neighborhood mechanic about estimates, and start saving up some poor people money. It’s like regular money, it just hasn’t sprouted yet. 

Likely, the home workout program will develop, replace the laziness, nbd; and should start posting my / ‘the poor people diet’ b/c a clean body and strong mind can do anything. If the inmates can have Instagram broadcasts on burner phones, I can add a menu. 

Moving XVIII-1 to next week, might take a stroll. #Feels If both trucks are fucked, so am I, and mom’s lavish diet will consist of anything I can buy at neighborhood general store and drive-share. // Might anotate something on the walk. Anchor? 

2019 Dec 10 Tuesday

Breakfast, salsa black beans and rice, lunch, ½ tea/whey, dinner, 6 eggs w liq aminos on wheat-ish tortilla, meal4 ½ tea/whey and niacin 500, meal 5?

Lazy day, rearranged room, have a desk at the window, conceptual free top space, put strange files into portfolio, shoes into tiny shoe armoir (bedstand?), and have all shelves emptied, then have a change-of-clothes bag, which should really be in the car. Truck blogs say sparkplug changes are circling $200, which is doable. Weird time to be between gigs holidays w/o backstory. Do the job, check with mgmt, do more, go home, do wtfe. Be early, leave when told. Have 2x20lb plastic sand jugs, maybe some shrugs/rows. 

Not overly heavy weight, quality reps, flex, arms perpendicular to ground (elbows back), pre-fatigue (warm-ups for each exercise), underhand (supine) triceps pulldown prevents leaning when working on triceps,  https://www.menshealth.com/fitness/a30170272/the-rock-biceps-triceps-workout/ 

5x5 program, do the exercises, add weight per week if you could do lift last week’s, every six weeks deload, https://www.boxrox.com/how-to-build-muscle-and-strength-the-5-x-5-program-gain/

8 core exercises for abs/obliques, L-sit, frong-crunch, bycycle crunch, running man situp (alt hand oppo leg), rev crunch pulse (lock legs, push heels up), russian twist (it was the borscht), plank, t-cross situp (lay out, v up, left hand right foot) https://www.boxrox.com/8-sit-up-abs-exercises-to-build-a-6-pack-and-strong-obliques-cf/

I want to do cable punches more. 

2 dudes vs the FBI fitness test, 20 pullups @ pace, 30 pushups or more @ pace, 38 situps (1min), 300m sprint (41sec=Ace), 1.5 mile run (9min=Ace) https://www.menshealth.com/fitness/a30183134/fbi-fitness-test-bodybuilders-buff-dudes/

2019 Dec 11 Wednesday

Give yourself permission to not be a perfectionist, if it doesn't go well that's okay. Don’t be busy, be productive. Tow truck towed truck, without me, witf. 

2019 Dec 12 Thursday

Truck will be ready today/tomorrow. Battery jumper arrived. Might gym, might not. Will have another carb-up next, and if no gym, whey for the night. Body replaces cells. Everybody goes thru it, and rebuilds. Muscles break down, and then we repair. If you’re not losing your mind, crazy, everyone once in a while, then nothing is changing. This could be comfort. We all have insecurities, we need to be honest about them so that we can better ourselves. It’s time to stretch-out, warm-up, work-on. 

Truck is fixed, let’s go to the gym. 

#4xviii Lite Push tot/lb x ct heavyweight/slow/r3*8(1s/r)

Treadmill 10 >> Shldr Press 507090 >> Cable lat-rear raise 5,5,1010 >> Chest press 8090110130150 >> Pec deck 8s*709090110110 >> Incl smith 100*3 >> Arnld press 3*r8/25 3035404550 >> Cable x-over 15202530 >> Supine tric pldwn 202030 >> Tric pldwn 304050 >> Pullover/down 304050 >> Triceps press 30507090/110130150170190/210/230(240lbs) >> /Abs/Treadmill /

Need more lateral delt practice; posture bad, need stretching; much hurt, very pain, a lot good.

#5xviii Slow/lite Pull  /lbs

Treadmill warmup 11 >> High Row 3x6r /25303550658095 >> Lat Pulldown 3x 6 /45607590 >> 15 of those >> Chin Up neutral 3x 6 /666- >> Smith shrug 3*6/100100100100 >> Low Row 3x 8 /25303550658095100 >> Pec Deck 3x 8 /100*3 forearms >> EZ Curl 3x 10 /supine 20*4 >> ½ Prchr 3x 10 /15*3,30*3 >> ½ hammer 3x 10 /152025 >> Rev-row 4x 10 /40506070- >> ½ lat? 40,55,70 >> Treadmill cooldown /null

Left elbow lat pulldown not far back enough in single sided, need to do all ½; outer lower pecs still sore from yesterday’s tricep press, sit in a chair, push the arms down, sorta like dips; /rest/ lats were tight, from laying around in a bad posture, and hadn’t used foam roller, but doing the ½ pulls brought the back triangle farther down, trained weak spot, made waking up better, laying on concrete should straighten posture, with some stretching, and might improve hunch while opening obliques. 

#6xviii Lite Legs  3x8r/lbs

Treadmill 10 >> Side Bends 3*8r/35*3 >> Body Squat 20,40,60(smith) >> ½ Horiz Press (½ rep) me+10*3 >> Horiz Leg Press 103050 >> L/R Leg Ext 10*3~ >> L/R Leg Curl 30*3~ >> Heel Raise 305070- >> Leg Curl LR 888 >> Push Crunch 405060 >> Lift Crunch /null >> Treadmill cooldown /stairs high knee 15 >> Treadmill cooldown 

Workout; regards of leg extension, could use volume/reps, but partly not lifting hard, not to hurt, but am not pissing myself off, eventually unrealized mad goals where volume sets no adversity, is distance training do; don't skip leg day for a month; indirect object is absurd; front lats little raw; 

I mine is patience. 

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