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eurosong · 4 years

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Undo my ESC

Good evening, folks! If you saw my first instalment of “Undo my ESC”, the annual feature where I make a year’s Eurovision better for me by making alterations in each country, you might have thought that ESC getting cancelled had dulled my edge, since, comparing to usual standards, I hardly changed much at all there. Well, that’s because, once again, we have seriously uneven semis, and Semi #1 would have been killer, whilst Semi #2 would have been dead. Here is what Í would have done to even those semis up! 🇦🇱 Albania: The Albanian delegation had seemingly done all it could to wash its hands of, well, two years of comparatively excellent results with authentic, melancholically poëtic and qualitative tracks, namely Malland Ktheju tokës. They brought in Byuckman, in whose interest it is for the contest to become as generically “radio-friendly” as possible, and the genius who brought us lyrics like “this is love/rain falls from above”. As judges. Of a serious musical festival. The foreign jurors did as expected, and voted for the appointed “bop”, but were foiled, however, by one of the minority Albanian jurors on the panel who put it low in her ranks. An actual renowned music professor who got called all the names under the sun for doing so. And so, to an ensuing shitstorm, the classical and powerful Shaj prevailed instead. Unfortunately, the battle was won but the war was lost, because the representative herself took the lessons of 2018-9, threw them down the aeroplane toilet on the way to LA, and ripped the spirit out of the song, reverting back to the previous Albanian trend of terrible “revamps” and laboured translations into English. The result, Fall from the sky, is but a husk of the original. In my ESC, I’d probably simply keeping the original version of Shaj, which was my uncontested #1 of all songs, but part of me would opt for Ajër, which I love almost as well but which doesn’t carry the baggage of hanging over my head like the sword of Democles this entire season. 🇦🇲 Armenia: I’ve more often than not loved the entries of Hayastan, from the joyous Jan Jan to the soaring Fly with me and defiant Walking out. To say they took a step back this year is kind – it was more like a powerful jump backwards that landed them in the nearest ocean, where they sank like a stone. It was one of the most singularly unpalatable NFs that I have ever watched in this era. Rather than retraumatise myself by going into detail about it, I’ll just say, I would have sent Srbuk or Artsvik again to get the top 10 that I feel both warranted!

🇦🇹 Austria: What a journey for Österreich. From Conchita to this guy, a perky homophobe who explicitly said he wished his kids would not turn out to be gay. He comes up with a third-rate impersonator of a third-rate Benjamin Ingrosso impersonator’s third-rate impersonation of a Timberlake b-side. I would throw that in the bin and invite Pænda back from last year for a shot at redemption after her gorgeous Limits got slept on in 2019.

🇧🇬 Bulgaria: Some people had the neck to say to me “who needs Hungary when Bulgaria is coming back?” Well, I do. Hungary were constantly in the top of my rankings, and just quietly and consistently brought quality. Bulgaria has brought me one good thing – Poli Genova’s œuvre – and a tonne of hype. Their song this year was one of the favourites, and I still can’t wrap my head around how other than the force of PR. It’s a bizarre, unsettling combination of passive-aggressive “look how much you’re making me hurt myself” lyrics with Disneyish saccharine accompaniment, topped off with a key change?! For want yet again of a national final, I would bring Poli back – third time even luckier? 🇨🇿 Czechia: The Bohemians (and Moravians) keep it contemporary but superficial for a third year running, although, thankfully, for the first time since they began doing national finals, we finally have a song without a dubious attitude towards women in the lyrics. Not that there is much to analyse in those lyrics. It’s a merely ok song for me, no better, no worse: a superior alternative would have been Barbara Mochowa’s lush and contemplative second effort, White and black holes, or the glorious 90s British indie-influenced All the blood. 🇩🇰 Denmark: Did Denmark confound international monitors into calling it the world’s happiest country by exposing them to the relentlessly cheery songs that they pick for Eurovision lately? And yet – I really do say yes to Yes, To a certain extent, to a limited amount of exposure, and despite the fact that it leans a little too hard into the territory of sounding like a second Little talks. It was one of the few good songs from DMGP – I also liked the 80s shoegaze-ish Den eneste goth– and I feel so mad at DR that they won’t give Ben and Tan a guaranteed second shot to represent their country after they won in front of an empty crowd. 🇪🇪 Estonia: The days of Eesti being Beesti seem like from a distant memory to me, but there was some quality and quirkiness in Eesti Laul, buried under mountains of beigedom, like the rich-voiced Egert Miller’s soulful Georgia, the jazzy Write about me, or the feisty earworm that was Ping pong. Instead, we got a dreary dirge with sub-Hallmark lines about wot luv is, which would have sounded dated in a contest 30 years ago, sung by a repugnant guy who tried to get people to vote for him last year by leaning on the idea that he was the “only true Estonian.” I’d have Egert get his rightful place as Jüri Pootsmann’s spiritual successor. 🇫🇮 Finland: I was one of the few to be jubilant when a bizarre ode to an Italian porn star with a backing track sounding like a violated version of Eläköön elämä came second in the polls to its spiritual opposite: a shy and rather awkward guy singing a quietly moving song about the passing of time. I love Looking back and wouldn’t change a thing. 🇬🇪 Georgia: You never know what to expect from Georgia, except the unexpected, and yet even I was surprised by what they came up with: a close-shaven guy with veins popping in his head screaming “why don’t you love meeeee?” to a rocky, electronic backdrop. Me being me, I actually do like it a lot. “Take me as I am” sounds like a veiled potshot at the big 5 and a vindication of Georgia’s “keep it weird, send what we want” philosophy. I could suggest that the lyrics, that sound like those of a spurned angsty teen, change a bit, but that would be defeating the purpose of Georgia: one takes them as they are. 🇬🇪 Greece: So, somehow, despite S!STERS coming dead last with 0 pts in the televote last year, using exclamation marks to substitute the letter I is now a thing in Eurovision with the advent of Superg!rl. I spent an hour watching folk waffle on in Greek in its reveal show only for them to reveal the song literally at the very end, so after that, it was a little underwhelming, and nowhere near as good as Better love in 2019. I don’t hate it – and the music video’s concept of her being an amazing superhero who can change the world, but instead she’s stopping people slipping over bananas and rescuing cats from trees is weirdly endearing, so it can stay, but I’d improve the lyrics, particularly in the chorus. “I’m a supergirl, supergirl, in a crazy world, crazy world” is not much higher than “this is love, rain falls from above” in historically bad Greek lyrics at ESC. 🇮🇸 Iceland: Daði Freyr came back from near-victory with the delightful Is this love, added a lovely inspiration in his newborn daughter to a similarly funky and playful track, and came out with Think about things. Unlike what usually happens with songs that are a little bit odd, I was positively surprised to see it walk the NF, and become a phenomenon even outside the ESC fandom. This was perfect and joyous from beginning to end. I hope Iceland will not be like the other Nordics, and will invite Daði directly back .🇱🇻 Latvia: I have come to enjoy the bizarre chaötic energy of Still breathing, It’s a hot mess, but I take weird over dull any day. It wasn’t my favourite in Supernova – that would be the effortlessly cool Polyester, an earworm with a social conscience, written about the cost of fast fashion but dismissed by many people as “she luvs t-shirts song lol”. Given that Samanta Tina tried over half a dozen times to go to ESC, finally won and then had the chance ripped out of her hands by the cancellation, I don’t have the heart to remove her from my ideal ESC 2020 though. She stays, but maybe the staging changes? It’s odd to have what you believe is a feminist anthem but then relegate your backing singers to in the distance, their faces shielded away. 🇲🇩 Moldova: Life is too short to follow Moldovan national finals, especially when you know, lately, that whoever is backed by the hilariously inaptly named Dream team will win there. They are like a parasite, sucking out the colour and fun out of a country that once had plenty of both – cross-reference Hora din Moldova or Lăutar to name just two examples. I guess out of an uninspiring lineüp, I’d go for Moldoviţa for having at least a hint of the brassy folk that used to be their calling card. 🇵🇱 Poland: Speaking of calling cards, after a one year hiatus with an arresting combo of white voice and rocky instrumentation, Poland has returned to what it has most often done in recent years – presented us with an absolute dirge, Empires, which seems like it was written by an unenthusiastic English student whose homework assignment (for which they received a generous C-) was to write a poëm with a bunch of metaphors “we’re moths to a flame, birds to a pane of glass, gasoline and a match”. Despite having a big music industry from which to choose many gems, Poland offers me little alternative choice given that there were only three songs in their grand final – one by the Czech representative last year who, as you might guess from what I said literally a sentence up, isn’t even Polish!Horny Elf, who’s contractually obliged to write only creepy lyrics for songs, tried to represent Polska with a song inspired by a true-life situation where he went around Tel Aviv with a cardboard cutout of one of the hostesses of the show. It’s a love song inspired by gallivanting around with a piece of cardboard. Addressed to that actual hostess. And it’s an almighty earworm that hasn’t escaped my mind since. Amazingly, his Lucy would be my Polish representative. 🇵🇹 Portugal: Portugal is another country beloved by me by for dancing to the beat of its own drummer, or perhaps, rather shedding tears to the strumming of its own fado guitar. They struggled being different, they won being different, and for the last few years they’ve struggled again, despite having a lot of support for both O jardim and Telemóveis amongst fans. This year, the televote went for one interesting song, the charmingly Gallic, accordion-drenched Passe-partout, a song about a cultured girl shaking off her boorish ex who could “never even get into Piaf”, whilst the jury got behind another interesting song, Gerbera, an entrancing, arresting and poëtic song laden with metaphor about the idea of music competing itself. This let Medo de sentir,second in both polls, turn silver into gold. It’s a lovely, heart-felt track, but rather unexceptional - I would have had one of the other more singular songs win. 🇸🇲 San Marino: The weird boil on the face of ESC that somehow never pops, SM is back after its bewildering qualification with a tone-deaf dentist wailing to a microwaved disco song… with something actually palatable, sort of. The aptly named Freaky is dated, odd, overly busy, but Senhit has a lot of charisma, and the idea of “break[ing] all the rules, mak[ing] up some new [ones] and destroy[ing] all of them too” and “life goes by too quickly not to be freaking it up”, well, maybe we do get on board. 🇷🇸 Serbia: Serbia is usually a byword for quality at the contest – they won with one of the best 21st century winners hands down in Molitva, and also sent some of the most beautiful compositions in the contest’s history at the hands of Željko. This year, they decided to join in the leitmotif of reliable countries sucking by sending a group that sound like a third-rate mid-2000s girl band from Transnistria when beautiful songs like Cvet sa Prokletija were right there. 🇨🇭 Switzerland: Fair play to the Swiss for not doing a Cyprus and leaning in on their success with their male Fuego, She gat me, and instead going in a completely different direction with this moody effort. I’m not entirely convinced by the teenage emo-ish lyrics or the unnecessary falsetto, but Répondez-moi is a refreshing effort, and has the bonus of being in French too! And the automatic qualifiers: 🇫🇷 France: You’ve heard of France, right? You know, that wee country south of Belgium, north of Andorra, not much of a music industry… or so you’d think, given that the troolee jeenyuss new delegation, who abandoned their brilliant national final which showcased how diverse and qualitative their music scene is despite it being a huge success in the fandom, and instead reached out to the writer of last year’s last place song for the UK and a few other rentaswedes and they produced something that sounds like a b-side that not even Westlife would have recorded, replete with a stock key change. About as French as IKEA köttbullar. A real shame for one of Europe’s most highly esteemed cultural hotbeds. If they wanted to pick Tom Leeb, who seems like a nice guy and has written some lovely music, he could have made his own song and it would have indubitably been scores better than this. 🇪🇸 Spain: I’m going to apply this to all the automatic qualifiers voting on this semi-final: they scrapped a national final for this? OT was not an ideal format as last year demonstrated with its shit show of contestants sabotaging themselves so as not to get picked for ESC – but still. There’s not much I can say about this other than I don’t like it much and I’d rather Spain return to a proper NF. You don’t spend time trapped on a bus where this song with its torturous falsetto was on replay and emerge with fond feelings. 🇬🇧 United Kingdom: Usually, in this space, I can point to a song that the UK should have sent and that I fell in love with – like I wish I loved you more or You. Once again, though, another big 6 nation scrapped their NF after tanking it with a bizarre format last year. The BBC said nothing for months, then were unwilling to spend tv time on ESC this year so just blurted out an announcement of an announcement in about 40 seconds after some dance show. And then they dropped this song. It’s… passable at best, with an annoying chorus (especially that beat in “my last… breath”) and a staggering amount of repetition in a song that clocks in at only around 80% of the standard Eurovision song length. James Newman surely could have come up with something better. It’s a baby step in the right direction, but one taken at the shore where you need to start running to avoid getting pulled away in a rip.

#eurovision #eurovision song contest #opinion #esc 2020 #eurovision 2020

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maitlands-protection-squad · 4 years

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please post more fluffy and blushy and giggly maitland headcanons-you’re doing the lord’s work

Hi there anon friend!!! I’m here to PROVIDE!

Lord’s work???!? I really just love the Maitlands. I’m not anyone special like that please don’t give me that level of pressure I’ll cry ; w;

I know Halloween passed already but I still wanted to include a few spooky headcanons for what I think happens post-movie (as always with some Musical inspiration mixed in)

the Maitlands are only visible to people inside the house

though they tend to hide in the attic whenever guests are over, they make themselves known to everyone nonetheless because Lydia loves seeing her parents and the guests’ expressions and they like feeling a lil spoopy now and then

rumors go around that Lydia aka the weird goth chick brought back the spirits of the Maitlands in an attempt to replace her dad and step-mom with them. the kids around town hear Lydia talking about them sometimes with her actual parents and they always freak when she does

literally the whole town is concerned as to how Lydia the weird goth girl knows about the recently deceased couple that once owned their current home but are too afraid to ask

when Halloween rolls around, Lydia asks the Maitlands to put on their ghost sheets to give out candy to the kids. ofc since none of the kids enter the house, all they see are two sheets mysteriously floating around the house and everyone freaks out. some concerned parents ask for Charles and Delia but bc Lydia doesn’t want her dad learning about what’s going on she tries so hard to convince everyone it’s just props. DONT WORRY EVERYONE ITS JUST REALLY ELABORATE MOVIE MAGIC AT WORK HAHA

Adam is a soft, lovable baby that used to live with two dogs of polar opposite sizes and loved them both equally. one was a massive dog practically the same size as him on its hind legs and the other was a smol nervous chihuahua

he also made friends with a lot of the neighborhood squirrels & birds

Adam is basically the Disney princess of Winter Rivers

Barbara is enthralled when she sees him magically produce peanuts from thin air to give to a squirrel that hopped on his shoulder

the Maitland house is a no-kill zone for animals

the Deetzes learn this very quickly after Delia finds a few rodents in the basement and the resident ghosts refuse to allow them to be killed

Adam teaches Lydia some of his tricks on how to speak to the animals and despite being told it’s to help be rid of the rats, Charles does not approve

the Deetz family knows how deeply protective the Maitlands become once they get attached to a living creature so Lydia and Charles rush to get any and all critters out while Delia distracts them before chaos ensues

Lydia gets all the leftover love and affection and loves it but she doesn’t always say she does because then Barbara will provide EXCESS LOVE and Adam and Delia will join and too much love makes things EMOTIONAL but sometimes it’s GOOD TO CRY LYDIA JUST ACCEPT IT ITS HEALTHY

Adam. Maitland. Loves. His. Wife. and if you are not nice to his W I F E you will not be spoken to ever again what do you think he’s gonna do??? do you even know Adam Maitland???? that’s a man who can’t even frighten a fly. do you think he’d hurt you? are you okay? do the Maitlands need to come hug you too???

BY THE WAY, in my spare time which I definitely have a lot of I MAY HAVE come up with a Maitlands child because I am VERY WEAK for these two and I JUST CAN OKAY

the child is named Charlie

can be any pronouns. I personally choose she/they but I like leaving it open to interpretation

Charlie lovessssssss exploring and going on adventures

it’s very hard to contain Charlie once they learn how to crawl/walk because they are so full of energyyy

their favorite thing to do is ask their dad to pick them up because he never says no and they like feeling tall (yes this is a That 70′s show reference)

when teaching Charlie their ABCs, Barbara came up with the idea of “A is for Adam, B is for Barbara, and C is for Charlie Maitland!”

from then on the Maitlands are referred to as the ABC family, the ABCs, ABC Maitlands, the Alphabets, etc.

Charlie is the hide and seek champion of the house to the point where her parents are concerned as to how she’s hiding so well. they still don’t know her secret to this day

when Charlie meets the Deetz family, Lydia immediately becomes Cool Goth Big Sister

Delia is second mom/silly god mom with all the cool rocks and sparkly clothes

Charlie is convinced Delia is a fairy and Delia loves it because that makes her Charlie’s Fairy God Mother

“D is for Deetz! ABC and the Deetz!” -Charlie at some point after she just met them all

Charlie attempts periodic bonding sessions with Charles whenever they’re in the same room

because they have similar names, Charlie refers to him as Grumpy Me or Grumpy Charlie

Charles secretly adores them and at this point just pretends to be grumpy because it makes Charlie laugh. he knows when to crack funny jokes versus when to actually be serious with them

when Lydia babysits Charlie, they always go out for walks through Winter Rivers together

Lydia always takes pics of things Charlie finds and they keep a scrapbook/photo album of all the Polaroids and neat things they decide to keep

Charlie is very imaginative and comes up with dozens of wild ideas as to where all the stuff comes from

one day they find a birds nest with a momma and her babies in it and Charlie asks Lydia where babies come from

Lydia panics and says that’s a question for their parents to answer

Adam and Barbara freak out when Charlie comes to them with that question and Adam’s scooping them up into his arms and saying “no no not until your older okay??? that’s not something you need to learn about yet!!” meanwhile Barbara’s holding back screams as Lydia explains why the topic came up

whenever Charlie gets in trouble or knows she’s gonna get into trouble, she hides in an easy to find location like under her bed and her parents always console her and tell her it’s okay to make mistakes because you’re only human and making mistakes helps you grow, especially when you admit to them

they’re always proud to hear the teachers’ compliments on how honest Charlie is, even if sometimes it’s a bit blunt

Charlie’s favorite movies are Road to El Dorado, Inside Out, and the Toy Story series

though like their parents, Charlie loves animals, they are scared of spiders because they swear one bit them

in reality some kids were throwing pebbles at a spider web and one of them scratched her leg but she cannot be unconvinced of THE TRUTH

I think that’s all I have for now??? I MOSTLY COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT A MAITLANDS KID OKAY I WANT TO GIVE THE GHOST PARENTS A HAPPY ENDING WITH THEIR CHILD PLEASE I CRY THEY DESERVE SO MUCH

ahem thank you anon friend for allowing me to pour all these ideas out to you :) hope you like them!!!

#beetlejuice #adam maitland #barbara maitland #beetlejuice movie #beetlejuice musical #the maitlands #adam and barbara #i will protect these two with my life even tho theyre already dead #charlie maitland #beetlejuice oc #LOOK IT WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN OKAY #THE MAITLANDS DESERVE BETTER EVEN THOUGH THERE WOULDN'T BE A STORY WITHOUT THEM #I WILL CRY IF YOU COMPLIMENT CHARLIE I'M ALREADY IN TEARS WRITING THIS #I HAD SOME OTHER IDEAS BUT I DIDN'T WRITE THEM DOWN AND I FORGOT #PRETTY SURE THEY WERE ALL BARBARA AND CHARLIE RELATED TOO AND I'M SAD #I'M SORRY MOM I WROTE THESE ALL UP AT AROUND MIDNIGHT WHEN I HAD SO MANY OTHERS #IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ON CHARLIE PLEASE DO ASK BUT KNOW IT'LL TAKE A WHILE BECAUSE I'LL BE SOBBING WITH JOY #k headcanons

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dangkynhanhieusanphamcom · 5 years

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Fear and Loathing in the Lone Star State – Law & Liberty

When asked by Law & Liberty if I would be interested in reviewing Lawrence Wright’s new book, God Save Texas, I had mixed feelings. I greatly enjoyed two of Wright’s previous books, The Looming Tower (2006) and Going Clear (2013), both deeply-researched and impressively-reported works of nonfiction. Wright’s journalism also inspired the acclaimed documentary Three Identical Strangers (2018), which fascinated me. Wright is a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and longtime staff writer for The New Yorker, who happens to live in Austin, Texas (as I do), the state capital and the home of the flagship campus of the University of Texas. Wright is unquestionably a talented writer knowledgeable about his (and my) adopted state.

At the same time, I was aware that Wright is a liberal Democrat deeply disenchanted with the state’s political orientation in recent decades. Wright’s latest book, subtitled A Journey into the Soul of the Lone Star State, consists of an extended (and self-referential) meditation on the history, culture, and politics of Texas. It is also a literary memoir of sorts, as well as a recycling—somewhat disjointedly and repetitively—of some past Texas-themed articles.

I have grown familiar with the smug contempt with which many Austin progressives regard the state’s conservative elected officials (and, by implication, the “unenlightened” provincial voters who support them). The scorn is reciprocated; former Texas Gov. Rick Perry used to describe Austin as “a blueberry floating in a bowl of tomato soup,” and conservatives in Texas often deride the state capital as “The People’s Republic of Austin.” Texas Monthly, the Austin-based, left-leaning magazine where Wright used to work, has adopted a tone of snide condescension as its official editorial position toward ordinary Texans. Of course, many liberals in Texas reside outside of Austin as well, but dating back to the early 1960s—Billy Lee Brammer’s roman a clef of political intrigue, The Gay Place, was published in 1961—Austin has served as the intellectual nucleus for the state’s progressives. Austin has long aspired to be the Berkeley of Texas, and as Wright himself concedes, Austin “sees itself as standing apart from the vulgar political culture of the rest of Texas, like Rome surrounded by the Goths.”

My instinct, therefore, was that Wright’s latest book would be marred by this one-sided—and narrowly-parochial—ideological perspective. My trepidation was reinforced by Kevin Williamson’s brutal review of God Save Texas in the Claremont Review of Books, entitled “Austin City Limits.” (Williamson is a native of the Texas Panhandle and a UT alumnus.) Well, it turns out that my instincts were correct. God Save Texas, although undeniably well-written, is full of sanctimonious disdain for the Lone Star State—save music, food, bike riding, wildflowers, bird-watching, Big Bend National Park, and Austin itself. Wright acknowledges early on that he “could [not] have lasted in Texas if it were the same place [he] grew up in,” and has considered leaving since re-settling here in 1980, as if the state should be grateful that he deigned to stay. But the changes are not all good, either.

Wright bemoans “ugly” suburban sprawl, endless “cruddy” strip malls, and truck stops (especially the Buc-ee’s chain), as though these things are unique to Texas, and maintains a book-length sneer at the Lone Star State: “Texas has nurtured an immature political culture that has done terrible damage to the state and to the nation”; the 1960 movie The Alamo, starring John Wayne, was “our creation myth”; the Texas Revolution, which led to independence from Mexico in 1836, was marred by the “original sin” of slavery; fracking, which has made the U.S. the world’s leading oil producer, is a “dark bounty”; the state legislature “is slavishly devoted to the oil-and-gas industry”; the state’s boom-and-bust economy is “a civilization built on greed and impermanence”; and the legacy of the Confederacy is “shameful.” Austin liberals forever pine after one-term Governor Ann Richards and the spiteful partisan “humorist” Molly Ivins (both departed); Wright predictably follows suit.

The trite, mean-spirited clichés continue: Wright presumes that racism accounts for the differing fortunes of major league pitchers Nolan Ryan and J.R. Richard, briefly teammates on the Houston Astros; the state’s political leadership “is far more right wing than the general population”; opposition to the climate change agenda is due to “abject submission to the oil and gas industry”; rugged individualism is a “myth”; Wright compares Texas’s lieutenant governor, Dan Patrick, whom he openly loathes, to Infowars conspiracy maven Alex Jones, and claims, on purely partisan grounds, that “the Texas Patrick seeks to create is one of exclusion.” Wright falsely maintains that Dallas at the time of JFK’s assassination in 1963 was a city “where there were scarcely any Democrats,” even though the mayor at the time was a Democrat (as were virtually all elected officials in Texas, including the then-governor, John Connally).

Wright continues in this partisan vein, mocking Republican elected officials while blowing kisses to his liberal heroes (nearly all Democratic pols qualify as such). Conservatives are referred to as “ultraconservative” or “right-wing.” Voter ID laws, pro-life legislation, and opposition to same-sex marriage and illegal immigration “fortify the political strength of white evangelicals who feel threatened by rising minorities and changing social mores.” Conservative policies are described as “heartless,” “callous,” and “stiff-necked political philosophy.” Wright compares opponents of sanctuary cities to “a mob of flesh-eating zombies.” The election of Donald Trump “unleashed prejudices.” Declining state funding for public schools may be due to “racism,” he speculates.

Wright reserves his most caustic vitriol, however, for Lt. Gov. Patrick’s advocacy of a bill that would have restricted access to government-operated bathrooms, locker rooms, and shower facilities to those of the designated biological sex, in order to protect the privacy and security of their users (including public school students). The bill, S.B. 6, “embodied the meanness and intolerance that people tend to associate with Texas.”

In contrast, throughout the book Wright treats liberal subjects with kid gloves: a leftist law professor is described as “erudite”; the vulgar LBJ was “the most progressive president since Franklin Roosevelt”; a failed gubernatorial candidate, Wendy Davis, was “a glamorous blonde”; and Wright adoringly recalls Richards, the last Democrat to serve as governor of Texas (whom George W. Bush defeated in 1994) as “the most memorable” governor in his lifetime, who was “incredibly vivid,” with a “blinding pompadour,” a “switchblade sense of humor,” “a wonderful smile,” “icy blue eyes,” and “the most amazing drawl.” Wright smears Republican officials who were charged or convicted of crimes even when they were ultimately vindicated as the victims of partisan, baseless prosecutions, and then mocks them for appearing on Dancing with the Stars. Wright unfairly demeans Gov. Greg Abbott, a high school track star who was grievously injured—and paralyzed—by a falling tree after he graduated from law school, suggesting that it was hypocritical for Abbott to recover damages from the property owner and, years later, to support civil justice reform.

The only Republican politician Wright depicts in a flattering light is former House Speaker Joe Straus, a political moderate who rose to power with the support of Democratic House members and thereafter used his leadership role consistently to foil conservative policy initiatives. Several chapters read like a self-serving Straus press release, evening the score with his conservative nemeses.

Wright, who speaks fondly of California, laments that “as a Texan I sometimes bridle at the elite disdain and raw contempt that Californians express toward my state,” but this rings hollow, or at least lacks self-awareness. God Save Texas reeks of “elite disdain” and “raw contempt.” Wright could be describing his own ambivalent sentiments toward the Lone Star State, which he calls a “gringo colossus.” For reasons that seem inexplicable, Wright looks forward to being buried in the Texas state cemetery in Austin, alongside many notable Texans he reviles, as well as 2,000 Confederate soldiers. “Nothing says commitment like a burial plot,” he quips. His initial application to be interred in the state cemetery was rejected by then-Gov. Rick Perry; Wright had to re-apply.

The book ends with an encomium to the Texas Tribune, a progressive political advocacy platform that masquerades as a news organization: “no other state needs it more,” he remarks, never missing a beat. Wright, alas, is still “that pitiable figure” he says he used to be—“a self-hating Texan.” Wright recalls that one of his editors at The New Yorker asked him to “explain Texas,” because he couldn’t understand why Wright lived there. Wright claims that he wrote God Save Texas to answer that question. As a friendly reviewer in Texas Monthly noted, Wright’s book reads like diary entries from “inside a troubled marriage,” leading “a reasonable person to wonder just why it is that Wright has stayed wedded to Texas all these years.” Readers will scratch their heads in puzzlement, as I did. By trash-talking his home state, Wright only diminishes himself.

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carterthornton · 7 years

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The Third Wave | Chapter Twenty Two: Roommates

As Aiko's alarm sounded, shrieking and chanting, she clumsily rolled off her bed, her forehead impacting the floorboards with a hard thud. "Fuck!"

"Aiko?" Yuko popped her head up, wondering just what caused her sister to exclaim in such a way. "Aiko...?" The giant metal woman got out of her sleeping bag and gently hopped over Maeve's empty air mattress, making sure she didn't shake the room. She then looped around Aiko's bed, poking her head out to get a better look at Aiko, who was lying in a heap on the floor and groaning quietly to herself. "Aiko!" She picked her sister up, shutting off the alarm as she did so. "Are you okay?"

"Yup, I'm-... I'm fine..." Aiko held the palm of her hand against her forehead, taking a moment to realign her vision before moving around. "Argghh... I'm gonna get a goose-egg, aren't I?" Aiko looked over to Maeve's bed, noticing her absence. "Where's her majesty?"

"I dunno," Yuko shrugged her shoulders as she laid face down on Aiko's bed. "She left without saying anything."

"Maeve probably went down to get some grub. She's not big on small talk, or rather, talking with other people in general," Aiko sighed as she walked out into the hallway. "I'm gonna go the bathroom and have a shower, Yuko." Aiko turned to her left and drunkenly stumbled down the hall until she stopped at the bathroom door, then she twisted the knob, entering the washroom.

"Ah!" A voice in the darkness yelped.

"Ah!" Aiko screamed in response, falling onto her back and clutching her chest as she saw Maeve's pale face emerge from the shadows. "Maeve, what-? Why are the lights off?!"

"That's how I do my makeup!" Maeve shouted back at her.

"Why?!" Aiko stood up in a huff, no longer feeling drowsy like before.

"I don't know, that's- that's just how I've done my makeup, okay?!" Maeve held a hand on her heart, calming herself down.

"Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack..." Aiko bent over and placed her hands on her knees, bracing herself as she caught her breath. "A warning would've been nice, you know?"

"Well, you should've knocked!" Maeve pouted, sticking out her jaw as she scoffed at Aiko.

"Why would I knock on a bathroom door when the lights are-?!" Aiko stopped arguing and gave up on Maeve, who seemed to make every situation impossible. "Okay... never mind," Aiko grumbled as she strolled over to the shower, removing her pyjamas as she opened the sliding glass door.

"W-wait!" Maeve stuttered as she pulled Aiko's top back down, shielding her eyes at the sight of Aiko's bare stomach. "What are you doing?"

"Having a shower, why? You can do your makeup while I'm in there, can't you?" Aiko proposed as she pulled away from Maeve's grasp on her pyjama top, sliding out of her pants and tossing them to the side. "I always have a shower at six-thirty."

"And I always do my makeup at six-thirty, by myself," Maeve rushed over to Aiko's pyjama pants and handed them to her, still looking away from Aiko's bare legs. "I don't want to see that!"

"Maeve, we're both girls, and it's not like you're jumping in here with me..." Aiko's eye began to involuntarily twitch as she groaned at the realization of why Maeve was so jumpy with her. "Is this because-?"

"Because you are a homosexual, yes..." Maeve nodded as she kept closing her eyes. "Carlo informed me of this."

"That sonofa-..." Aiko balled her hand into a fist as she cursed Carlo's big mouth. "Maeve, I'm not trying to hit on you if that's what you're getting at, "Aiko shook her head as she stepped into the shower with her PJ's still on, removing them only after she closed the sliding door. "How's this? You won't see me behind this glass since it's all cloudy, and the steam will hide me even better."

"I suppose that will work," Maeve replied, trying to empty her head as she began to fervently brush her hair. "So... what did your grandparents think of me at dinner last night?"

"Um..." Aiko closed her eyes as she began to scrub shampoo into her raven hair. "They thought you were, err-... they thought you were nice."

"I see..." Maeve's voice became soft and mouse-like as she thought back to how anxious she was at the dinner table. She could almost hear her father's words in her ear, 'Treat your hosts with the same respect you treat me with, young lady!'.

"Oh, n-no! They really did like you! They were just taken aback a little by your politeness and your, err-... what's the word? Eloquence?" Aiko noticed Maeve's disappointment and forced a laugh, hoping to reassure her. "My grandparents aren't great with first impressions!"

"And what of your cousin Ivy? What did she think of me?" Maeve wondered.

"Ivy? She's um-... well, she thinks of everyone equally as sheep, b-but that's just her thing as a goth I guess. Ivy's not a first impression type of gal either!" Aiko fumbled her words a few times as she rearranged them in an order that didn't seem to harsh or too vague, but sadly it ended up just coming off as awkward and messy. "Uh... what's your favorite colour?"

"What?" Maeve froze in place just as she was about to use her straightening iron. "Why ask me that-?"

"Oh, just curious is all!" Aiko chuckled as she rinsed out her hair, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squirting some of its white goo into her hand.

"Purple," Maeve answered as she held the iron close to her hair, pausing for a moment before working up the nerve to ask Aiko. "What's yours?"

"Hmm... dark red? Yeah, dark red, like the kind of red you'd see on chokecherries," Aiko described, trying to give Maeve a good picture of the colour she was referring to.

"I've never had chokecherries before," Maeve remarked as she began to run the iron along her red locks.

"What?! You've never had chokecherries before?" Aiko stood in the shower, stunned by Maeve's statement. "Your grandmother never made you chokecherry pie? That's like a Vancouver Island delicacy!"

"Ah, well, my grandparents live in Scotland," A small grin spread across Maeve's face; she felt a lot more secure knowing she was capable of civil conversation with Aiko. Maeve had not had such a casual discussion with another girl her age in a very long time. "But when I visited, my grandmother would always make me caramel shortbread. I was twelve last I saw her, but she occasionally sends some of her baking to me in the mail."

"Can you bake?" Aiko inquired, washing the conditioner out and ringing her hair.

"No," Maeve sighed as she applied perfume, packing it away into a bag along with the rest of her toiletries. "I've never had the time to learn."

"Seems like you don't have a whole lot of time on your hands," Aiko said as she reached around the shower door to grab a towel.

"No..." Maeve set her hands on the bathroom counter for a moment, remaining motionless as she stared into the sink. "It feels like I could've done something more with-..." She stopped herself, grabbing her bag and walking out into the hall without batting an eye at Aiko, who stepped out of the shower in a towel. "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast."

"Alright..." Aiko nodded uneasily as she plugged in her hair dryer.

****

"So, let me get this straight..." Ivy spoke in her usual monotone voice, raising a brow at Maeve, who sat next to her on the living room couch. "You're like... a dragon?"

"I am no real dragon. I am a Mythical Beast Mark-user— the rarest Subclass of the Beast Class," Maeve announced with pride, keeping her chin up high in a posh manner. "My powers emulate what we humans believe fire-breathing dragons can do."

"Cool," Ivy grinned as she thought of all the interesting things she could do with such a power. "So, where's your Mark? I wanna see it."

"Um..." Maeve's face flushed red at the question, and she quickly turned to Aiko, who was placing textbooks into her backpack. "When are we leaving?"

"Oh, no... is it somewhere lewd?!" Ivy snickered as she lifted Maeve's arm to check for her Mark, catching the fire-headed girl off guard in her embarrassment. "Lemme see!"

"C'mon, Ives, leave her be!" Aiko scolded her cousin as she pried her off of Maeve, who was not used to dealing with a fourteen-year-old girl as invasive and in your face as Ivy. "Just because Opa and Náanaa are gone shopping for a few hours doesn't mean you can do whatever you want! How can I trust that you'll behave yourself all alone while they're gone?"

"It's not like you've got a choice to stay behind and not go to school just to babysit me," Ivy sneered as she stuck her tongue out at Aiko. "I'm not a kid anymore, Aiko, I can take care of myself!"

"Coming from the kid who just stuck her tongue out at me," Aiko rolled her eyes as she picked up the backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. "Now go get ready for school, Ivy. And could you pack a lunch this time, please?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Ivy grunted as she perused the pantry.

"Ready to go?" Maeve asked.

"Yeah, I'm all packed— just gotta wait for Yuko to get dressed," Aiko replied, waiting at the stairs leading to her room. "Yuko, you good?"

"Yep, yep, yep!" Yuko sang as she pranced downstairs, her frilly pink dress bouncing with her every step. "Do you like my dress? Náanaa sewed it together for me out of her old clothes!"

"You look very pretty, Yuko," Aiko complimented her bubbly companion as she and Maeve followed her to the garage door. "See ya, Ives! Make sure to get to school on time today, okay?"

"Yeah, whatever..." Ivy whined as she watched Aiko leave, making sure the coast was clear. "Asshole." A mischievous grin spread across Ivy's face as she practically skipped over to the kitchen stovetop, rolling up the left sleeve of her blouse. "Alright, let's see what else I can do with you."

On Ivy's shoulder was a Mark of unique design. It appeared to be some kind of soaring bird with outstretched wings, but it also appeared to be engulfed in flames and hovering over some kind of mound or pile of some substance. With Marks, one could only assume the meaning of the design until the powers it held were utilized, and Ivy had been experimenting with it for a few days off and on, hence her numerous late-slips she received in first-period Mathematics. She acquired her Mark only a few days ago whilst writing poetry in the park, sitting alone on the swing set. There had been several odd occurrences that day: unusually dark clouds and an exceedingly thick fog sticking close to the ground. Not only that, but she had an unshakable feeling of dread. Then, all of a sudden, as she turned to the next page of her notebook, she was met with the Mark that would glue itself to her body. Since that day, Ivy had been making several conjectures about her Mark based on its appearance, and through trial and error, she identified her Mark's primary focus, fire. Her body seemed to be totally immune to fire and heat, and she tested the extent of this ability at length on her grandparent's stove.

Ivy placed her right hand on the gas stove, and with her left, she turned it on. Flames shot out of the nozzle, engulfing her hand, yet she felt nothing; it was as if her body and clothing had become entirely flame-retardant. She shut off the stove, feeling the back of her hand, expecting it to be scalding hot. To her surprise, it felt the same as it did before she touched the stove. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Ivy decided to try something new; she clenched her fist, visualizing the stove's blue flames. Then, suddenly, her whole hand became engulfed in blue fire. Giving into her primal fears, Ivy immediately panicked at the rapid expansion of the fire as it spread to her forearm, and to make the transformation even more horrifying, embers were beginning to shoot out of her arm. Soon after, the overhanging fire alarm sounded, and Ivy quickly placed her hand in the sink, drenching it in cold water. As the water quelled her flames, Ivy's panting slowed to a halt and she regained her composure, then she swiftly grabbed one of the kitchen island's chairs, placing underneath the alarm and shutting it off.

"What the hell are you?" Ivy asked her Mark as she hopped down from the stool, hoping it would answer, but its lips remained sealed. "Yeah, I thought so..."

****

Yuko scooped up a large forkful of pancakes drenched in maple syrup and shoved it into her wide maw, chewing delightedly and gulping it down with a syrup-laced smile. "Yum!"

"Uh, hey, Yuko..." Jace nudged his neighbour's metallic elbow as he looked down at the decapitated fork in her hand. "Where's the top of that fork?"

"Oh dear," Maeve cringed as she heard metal fragments getting ground up in Yuko's teeth.

"Um..." Yuko held the dismembered tool up to let Aiko take a look at it. "Did I-?"

"You bit the top off of it again," Aiko sighed, shaking her head at Yuko. "You gotta stop biting down so hard."

"How many has she-...?" Carlo trailed off as he stared at his own fork.

"This is her fifth one so far," Aiko let out a tired chuckle as she finished her last piece of bacon and handed Yuko her fork. "Don't let this be the sixth, okay?"

"So... Aiko..." Jace's eyebrows moved up and down at a rapid pace as he made a rolling sound with his tongue.

"Carlo told you too, huh...?" Aiko slowly turned her head, shooting Carlo the stink-eye.

"What, I'm the bad guy?! Jace was gonna start hitting on you pretty soon!" Carlo exploded, tossing his hands in the air in frustration.

"This is actually pretty dope," Jace sneered as he munched on his tuna fish sandwich. "I've never had a gay friend before."

"Neither have I," Carlo added.

"Okay, okay, I know where you two are going with this!" Aiko objected as she gathered up her dirty dishes. "I'm not gonna do guy shit with either of you, or gossip about girls, or do any of the fuckin' bullshitty shit that you think I'm gonna do with you!" Aiko took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. "And you know what? To be honest, I kinda thought you were gay, Carlo."

"Me?! Really?! That's bullshit..." Carlo looked around the lunch table, trying to find support from the rest of his team, but they all seemed to avert their eyes. "Really, you guys?"

"Heh heh..." Maeve cracked an awkward smile as Carlo's eye glazed over her.

"Well, now that she mentions it... you kinda do dress a bit too fashionable for a guy sometimes," Jace shrugged his shoulders as he polished off the rest of the tuna that fell out of his sandwich. "I mean... I know you're not, but still. That green hair doesn't really help your case either."

"Oh, and what do you wear every day, Jace?! Cargo shorts? Fuck off," Carlo scoffed as he pushed away his breakfast tray. "I like wearing good clothes."

"Your vest is cool," Mura grumbled as she took one last bite of her toast with liverwurst.

"Thank you, Mura!" Carlo shouted as he got up from his seat, bowing to Mura. "Once again, Mura gets it!"

"But you're all too god damn loud." Mura let off an aura of malice and death that seemed to darken the space around them, silencing them all. "Thanks."

After a few moments of calm, Carlo leaned forward to talk with the stoic, blue-haired girl. "So, Mura... I know you just told me to put a lid on it, but-."

"What do you want?" Mura wasted no time with Carlo.

"I was just gonna ask you where you got that jean jacket..." Carlo smirked at Mura's straightforward approach to conversation.

"Oh," Mura nodded, checking the tag of her jacket. "Salvation Army."

"A thrift store, huh? Nice steal," Carlo said as he scratched the tuft of hair on his chin. "How much?" Mura seemed reluctant to reply, and Carlo quickly caught on to this. "Ah, it's cool. I can make an estimate."

"So, how's Aiko's house?" Jace asked Maeve, who seemed a lot quieter than usual.

"Oh, it's-..." Maeve glanced over at Aiko, who she worried would be offended if she spoke her mind. "It's different, but I'd take this punishment over suspension."

"So, when are clubs gonna start? Does anyone know?" Aiko wondered (she had lost her school calendar on the first day).

"Beginning of next week, I think," Carlo answered her inquiry as a cafeteria worker picked up all their dirty dishes. "They probably want us to get settled into our regular classes this week."

"Yeah, right," Aiko nodded, looking over to Maeve, who was avoiding eye contact with her. "Hey, you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine!" Maeve smiled with faint tinges of woe in her voice. "I'm just a little tired is all." She didn't seem so sure of her own words; they sounded like someone else's. "I thank you for asking."

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