#Lee Kern
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SHOT 12 TIMES
Story of the girl who survived being shot 12 times by Hamas
LEE KERN
NOV 21
Eden is 20 years old.
She works in Human Resources in the IDF.
On October 7th she woke up in her base to the sound of a rocket siren.
She went to the bomb shelter wearing her pyjamas and flip flops on her feet.
She sheltered there with six others.
But then they heard gunshots.
They knew something wasn’t right and that they weren’t safe in the shelter.
They decided to run for their command centre - which also serves as a safe room.
They fled the bomb shelter and were met with gunfire from behind.
As Eden ran in her pyjamas, her flip flops came off.
The first bullet went in her left leg.
She continued to run - the adrenalin carrying her on.
She couldn’t see what happened to anyone else in the chaos.
She now knows two people were killed in that volley of fire.
She also knows that three escapees went to their bedroom to hide.
One was shot in the stomach.
Eden continued to run barefoot as bullets rang out.
She arrived outside the command centre.
There are two security doors.
She opened the first door with the code.
The second door wouldn’t open for her.
Other escapees had already arrived and were inside the room.
Eden believed the terrorists were behind her and told those hiding in the room.
They shouted through the door. They told her to run around the building to the back door.
Eden believed if she attempted to get to the back door she would die. She also believed if she stayed she would die.
She ran to the back door.
The soldiers let her in.
They tried to bandage her wound.
There were six people in the room.
There were only two guns.
Eden was 2nd in command.
And then the terrorists tried to break in.
For forty minutes.
For forty minutes they threw grenades against the door, trying to break in so they could kill the people inside.
Though shot in the leg, Eden she thought she’d be ok in the safe room.
There were two doors between them and the terrorists.
The terrorists used an RPG and broke through the first door.
The terrorists started throwing grenades at the second door.
Eden phoned her boyfriend and family and said her goodbyes. She thanked them for everything they’d done for her and asked them to pray.
Eden then received a message on her phone from a friend.
She opened it.
Eden glanced at the photo that downloaded before realising what it was and holding the phone away from herself.
It was a photo of a dead friend outside.
The terrorists had stolen the phone of a soldier they had killed - taken a photo of his corpse - and then sent the photo to Eden inside the room they were breaking into. Eden later discovered the terrorists had also sent the photo to the boy’s mother and uploaded it to his instagram page for his followers to see. In the photo they had broken in his face and teeth.
Eden realised the gravity of the situation. The terrorists had come to kill.
The terrorists continued to throw grenades at the last door.
Eden and her friends pointed their two guns at the door and waited.
Eden sent one last voice message to her father. In it you can hear the gunshots and the grenade that blew open the final door.
There was no more contact after that.
The first terrorists stormed in.
Eden waited to die. She accepted death and waited.
Those soldiers holding the guns managed to shoot two terrorists.
And then came in the grenade.
After the grenade came the gun fire.
For five minutes.
Eden was hit by several bullets.
Each bullet going into her felt like a boom in her body.
She laid down quietly and pretended to be dead.
With the bullets inside her she prayed not to be kidnapped.
After silence came she heard them talking in arabic.
They began rifling through people’s pockets and stealing phones.
Then they fired more bullets into Eden and the others on the floor in darkness.
She received the bullets in silence.
Then they left.
She waited several minutes.
This is how the dead feel, she thought.
She felt someone’s breath on her arm.
There was another survivor.
They had received one bullet.
Eden was happy she wasn’t alone.
They held hands and laid in the darkness.
All the while in the distance they could hear gunshots.
They held hands for four hours.
One of Eden’s other friends was dead and bleeding on her.
Eden pushed their body off.
There was blood everywhere in the room.
She didn’t know whose blood belonged to who.
Eden touched her body to find her wounds.
She and the other survivor took a shirt to try to make a dressing.
Eden wanted to escape but couldn’t move.
She tried to phone for help but the terrorists had destroyed the antenna.
So she just laid there in the dark feeling the bodies of her dead friends against her.
She thought of her family.
She thought she has to stay alive.
She wanted to sleep.
Her friend woke her up every time she drifted into unconsciousness.
After four hours of lying in dark like this they heard Hebrew voices.
They were scared it could be a trick.
Some people entered the room.
Eden felt confident it was the IDF.
She raised her hand out of the pile of bodies.
She was seen.
Eden was taken to a hospital.
She has now been in hospital for a month.
She had four hours of surgery the first day.
She has had five surgeries altogether.
She had 12 bullets enter her in total.
No one can tell Eden how long she’ll be in hospital.
She can’t stand.
She feels ok, relative to what she has experienced.
It takes her time to sleep.
Her story on October 7th began with a siren.
She gets anxiety when she hears sirens.
There are a lot of sirens in Israel because their neighbours frequently try to kill them.
END
Eden wanted this picture shown.
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If I have one reflection on whatever nonsense it is I'm writing it's this: I think there's a violence in human beings. There is violence in the human soul. There is violence and there is cruelty. But more than that there is fear. Despite our songs and poems, I'm not sure love is the most powerful force on earth. There’s a strong argument to suggest fear is the primary driving force behind the actions of the animal we call a human being. It's fear of freezing to death that causes us to build shelters. It's fear of going hungry that causes us to stock food. It's fear of being ostracised that causes us to ostracise others. It's fear of ridicule that breeds conformity. It's fear that causes people to keep their heads down. And when the moment of danger comes? When the tyrants enter? When the bullies arrive? It's fear that causes people to not speak up. To turn a blind eye. To let someone else take the bullet. People can bombastically jump on the bandwagon and say "never again" but it’s tough to find your voice when face to face with a bully. People can say never again but it’s tough to square up if someone has raised their fist and shown they will use it. It’s tough to be brave when the moment comes and there's so many thoughts going through your mind and your brain and adrenalin decides it's best to shut down and stay quiet for the sake of self-preservation. It’s tough to do good things in this world because the bad things are loud and scary and intimidating. It’s tough for people to rise above fear. There’s a reason why heroes are called lone heroes. They’re uncommon.
That's why it's good to be writing this from Israel where Jews are once again in their ancestral home, the place they forged an indigenous civilisation many thousands of years ago before the Babylonians and Romans forced them into exile. A place where they can ensure that "Never Again" is not left in the hands of a species that pulls the wings off flies. Google the Evian Conference - visit Auschwitz yourself - survival is not a game to be left in the hands of others or based on the strength of promises. Because there's always a chance that when the chips are against you and you call out to friends or others for help, you could be left hanging around wondering when they'll arrive?
And the answer might be:
Never. Again.
Lee Kern Substack is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
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Lee Kern
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Hamas have REJECTED two months of ceasefire
Two months OF CEASEFIRE
Rejected by Hamas
All you wankers won’t say shit cause you’re dishonest
You don’t care about Palestinians or peace
You just want to say whatever u can in any given moment that puts Israel in a negative light.
Can everyone now just shut up and let Israel get on with destroying the genocidal terror group.
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#brennan lee mulligan#david kerns#thank you to the people in the replies who let me know who that was because i did not recognise him from that angle with a mask on!#my guess was paul robalino oops
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youtube
Black Snakes - The Hanging Of John Daniel Lee
#Black Snakes -#The Hanging Of John Daniel Lee#jack nantz#richard kern#darin lin wood#patrick blank#no wave#noise rock#punk blues#crawl#1988#Youtube
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Jimmy Shergill, Vedieka Dutt, Ankur Bhatia, Hritiqa Chheber, Bryan Lawrence, Vedant Sarkar, Anjali Sharma, Antara Banerjee, Lee Nicholas Harris, Sammy Jonas Heaney, David Sayers, Savannah Gracey, Cain Aiden, Anna Sofia,
#Jimmy Shergill#Vedieka Dutt#Ankur Bhatia#Hritiqa Chheber#Bryan Lawrence#Vedant Sarkar#Anjali Sharma#Antara Banerjee#Lee Nicholas Harris#Sammy Jonas Heaney#David Sayers#Savannah Gracey#Cain Aiden#Anna Sofia#Marty Mummery#Jenna Kerns#Sneha Singh#Clive Coen#Stephanie Tripp#Adnan Kapadia#Pedro Bosnich#Bogumila Bubiak#Kinhikar Ashwini Deole#Kalgi Hitesh Banda#Zayyan Sacraine#Luca Barbarossa#Amelie Edwards#Renée Eskildsen#Zara Banks#Sarah Lockett
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Wrap-up for the #TransRightsReadathon time!
I finished three books for it, and really enjoyed them. I also started two that I am hoping to finish before the end of the month.
Feed them Silence by Lee Mandelo - I found this interesting and it def. took some turns I wasn't expecting. Also, I really like these kind of academia-focused stories that questions the darker edges of academia/science, etc, but still, let the characters be interesting. And I like Mandelo's character's ability to be messy. Also some of the themes of making connections and want really worked, and I found the aftward exploring what the book came from really interesting and insightful. So def an engaging read and I'm curious about what Mandelo writes next.
Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars by Kai Cheng Thom - I adored this! As someone obsessed with folklore and fairy tales I loved how this was written. The set-up was so well done, and the use of all of the intertwining stories and the playing with 'reality', it was just so smart. Especially the... '4th wall breaks'/reworking of the narrative in real-time. It was also just beautiful writing, Kai's narrative voice is really solid to me, I want to get a physical copy just so I can go through and highlight it. This is the second book by Kai that I've read and I really, really like her writing. Also, the audiobook was good!
Depart Depart by Sim Kern - was brilliant. I cried multiple times and laughed a few as well. Again the framework of this story is so well used and the setting is so interesting, aaaaand the writing was so good! Plus the exploration of tradition and culture and history, ugh just so interesting. Also all of the characters, but especially Noah are so fleshed out, esp. for how short this book is. Really really impressed. I'm def excited to read more of Sim's work.
I also found these three books really interesting to read at the same time in terms of some of the themes and character journeys.
I donated $25 dollars to the tGI Network of RI and $30 to Thundermist.
As March 31st is Trans Day of Visibility I'll be continuing a few books, we shall see if I can get more finished this month. I might also have a final rec list, because we, including myself, are hopefully all reading books by trans authors and with trans characters all year round.
If you participate what were some of the books you loved?
ID: The first slide is a black book with a wolf on it and a cup of tea on a metal table. The second slide is two books on a teal background.
#transrightsreadathon#trans rights readathon#booklr#queer books#trans books#book reviews#gosh it has been a billion years since I've done book reviews#but base line#read these books#trans authors#Feed them Silence#lee mandelo#depart depart#sim kern#Fierce femmes and notorious liars#kai cheng thom
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This week on Dropout: on Monday, the season finale of Make Some Noise, featuring the original Noise Boys: Josh Ruben, Zac Oyama, and Brennan Lee Mulligan (there will be a cut for time season 2 special in January, don't worry); on Tuesday, a special holiday episode of Dirty Laundry featuring the Dropout production team (Ebony Elaine Hardin, David Kerns, Kyle Rohrbach, and Chloe Badner); on Wednesday, a preview of what's in store for Dropout in 2024 AND a special documentary about the legendary Rick Perry; and on Friday, a deeper dive into the make-up process for Very Important People's Princess Emily episode.
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Rockstar smash or pass rating
I got an ask asking for the top and bottom of the polls so This is the top 10/bottom 10 out of all the finished polls so far, plus some other stats and stuff.
Overall most smashable rockstar polled: 80s Duff McKagan (89.9% smash)
Overall most passable rockstar polled: DJ Ashba (7.7% smash)
Most votes overall: Pete Wentz (741 votes)
Least votes overall (not counting polls set for 1 day): Jeff Keith (54 votes)
TOP 10 SMASHABLE ROCKSTARS:
Duff McKagan (80s) - 89.9%
hayley williams - 88%
Taylor Momsen - 82.1%
Roger Taylor (Young) - 81.9%
Dave Mustaine (1988) - 81.4%
Amy Lee - 78.8%
Izzy Stradlin (80s) - 78.8%
Paul Stanley (w/ makeup) - 78.8%
James Hetfield (90s) - 78.7%
Slash (80s) - 78.6%
BOTTOM 10 SMASHABLE ROCKSTARS:
DJ Ashba - 7.7%
Todd Kerns (2020) - 12.5%
Johnny Martin - 13.8%
David Draiman - 14.2%
Maynard James Keenan (90s) - 14.7%
Slim Tender - 15%
Chris Jericho - 15%
Rex Brown (90s) - 15.2%
Brian 'Head' Welch - 16.4%
Tony Iommi - 17.1%
ROCKSTARS THAT ARE NEITHER SMASHABLE NOR PASSABLE (i.e. their polls ended in 50/50)
Vince Neil (80s)
Rik Fox
Joey Ramone
#smash or pass#my polls#classic rock#80s rock#glam rock#glam metal#hard rock#70s rock#heavy metal#alternative rock#rock#hair metal
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💜 Queer Book Releases Coming Out September 2023
🦇 Trying to read queer all year? Make sure to check out these queer September releases!
❤️ Forget I Told You This by Hilary Zaid
🧡 The Otherwoods by Justine Pucella Winans
💛 The Lonely Book by Meg Grehan
💚 Every Star That Falls by Michael Thomas Ford
💙 Fly With Me by Andie Burke
💜 Wound by Oksana Vasyakina
🖤 Into the Bright Open by Cherie Dimaline
❤️ A Shot in the Dark by Victoria Lee
🧡 Straight Expectations by Callum McSwiggan
💛 Herc by Phoenicia Rogerson
💚 Deephaven by Ethan M. Aldridge
💙 The Mossheart’s Promise by Rebecca Mix
💜 Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson
🖤 The Borrow a Boyfriend Club by Page Powars
❤️ Ryan and Avery by David Levithan
🧡 What Stalks Among Us by Sarah Hollowell
💛 Your Lonely Nights Are Over by Adam Sass
💚 The Meadows by Stephanie Oakes
💙 A Hundred Vicious Turns by Lee Paige O’Brien
💜 Monstrous by Jessica Lewis
🖤 OKPsyche by Anya Johanna DeNiro
❤️ Cursebreakers by Madeleine Nakamura
🧡 The Death I Gave Him by Em X. Liu
💛 Thank You for Sharing by Rachel Runya Katz
💚 You, Again by Kate Goldbeck
💙 Godkiller by Hannah Kaner
💜 The Society for Soulless Girls by Laura Steven
🖤 Mammoths at the Gates by Nghi Vo
❤️ A Market of Dreams and Destiny by Trip Galey
🧡 A Crown So Cursed by L.L. McKinney
💛 In the Ring by Sierra Isley
💚 How to Find a Missing Girl by Victoria Wlosok
💙 This Spells Disaster by Tori Anne Martin
💜 The Free People’s Village by Sim Kern
🖤 Idlewild by James Frankie Thomas
❤️ Glitter and Concrete: A Cultural History of Drag in NYC by Elyssa Maxx Goodman
🧡 Cleat Cute by Meryl Wilsner
💛 Mall Goth by Kate Leth
💚 The Siren, the Song, and the Spy by Maggie Tokuda Hall
💙 This Dark Descent by Kalyn Josephson
💜 A Nobleman’s Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles
🖤 The Problem with Gravity by Michelle Mohrweis
❤️ Alex Wise vs. the End of the World by Terry J. Benton-Walker
#books#reading#book releases#book blog#booklr#batty about books#battyaboutbooks#queer book recs#queer fiction#queer books#queer#queer community#read queer all year
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AFFECT OF HAMAS FOOTAGE ON ME
LEE KERN
NOV 8
Only woke up from nightmares twice last night. I’m getting better…
Last week I attended a private press screening of footage from the Hamas atrocities. It was 47 minutes of footage recorded by Hamas themselves and captured on CCTV. You can read an account of it here. Attendees weren’t allowed to take phones or recording equipment into the screening. I had a notepad and pen. I sat down in my seat. The entire wall in front of me was a screen.
The film started. The footage was objectively distressing - but I was surprised and impressed with myself that I was immediately okay watching it. I was focused so hard on writing down what I saw that I wasn’t emotionally connecting with the footage. I didn’t have time. I had a job to do. I didn’t gaze too deeply at the HD quality images onscreen as I had to look down at my notepad to scribble notes. I felt like crying a couple of times - when they did something to a baby - or when they did something to a child - but I pushed that down to continue the job - and I was impressively okay.
I left the screening not really remembering much of what I’d seen. I thought, “Oh wow - I got away with that okay. I can’t even picture anything I saw.”
Later I had a pizza and a walk along the sea front. I made a guy in a shop laugh.
That night I burst into tears.
The next day I had to go get a sim card for my phone and I pulled my hat low over my eyes as I burst into uncontrollable sobs while walking the streets. There was sunshine and people sat outside cafes and I was just unable to stop myself sobbing. Deep sobs coming from my chest and my eyes streaming. I sniffled like a child while walking down the street. I couldn’t make it go away. I thought one good cry would get it out my system, but more whimpers and tears just came out of my chest. I was whimpering. And there were images in my mind now. I remembered everything. I saw things Hamas did. Things I don’t have the language or life experience to compute. I was baffled. I don’t understand what I saw. But every part of my body on a cellular level was rejecting it as the most wrong thing that could happen under the sun. It was an accumulaton of every piece of evil since Cane killed Abel. Hamas had mastered the art of sin. And they had conquered morality. They stood in a place where humans were not meant to stand. Where they are no longer human. They were free of all human shackles. They had achieved a power that transcended human frailty but became monstrous in the process.
Things went like this for the next few days. I’d break into an instantaneous sob. I often didn’t even have an image in my mind when I burst into tears. The screening would be mentioned and something in me happened that bypassed any kind of thought. My head would just bow in tears. I went to stay with some family. They picked me up and within ten seconds of being in the car I burst into tears when asked what I’d been up to. Being in a family home and around normal things was a useful antidote. But I’d still break into debilitating sobs when I recalled what Hamas did or if someone tried to speak to me about it.
It was also confusing and annoying. I wasn’t depressed! But yet I’d break into tears. I didn’t understand it. I wasn’t depressed but I’d cry like a broken man.
I’d had no sleep since I got to Israel. That obviously didn’t help. I’d visited a kibbutz that had experienced a massacre. That didn’t help. But still I thought I’d be okay.
The video fucked me up against me will.
The human brain has built no immunity against the things Hamas filmed.
It put some kind of splinter in my head. But simply being aware of that and wanting it to be out didn’t mean it would come out.
I thought I’d improve as days went by but my outbursts seemed to be just as intense. I worried if things continued like this I’d have some kind of mental breakdown.
I didn’t want to keep seeing what they did to that man.
I was also frustrated because I’d come to Israel to help and I didn’t want to be taken out of the fight with a mental injury. The particular skillset I have means I have to stay immersed in all the ugly shit. I wish I could just pack food for soldiers. If I can communicate well it’s because I’m sensitive and stuff flows into me. I become what I see. People have been demanding my time and I’m trying to help as much as possible but it was getting difficult to be useful to them or myself. In this spirit I didn’t have any macho pride. I’d openly tell people I wasn’t feeling great and didn’t feel shy if I cried in front of them. I didn’t really have a choice. I just wanted to try and find a way to temporarily shovel shit out of my head so I can keep being of service.
The other night I had to move accommodation. I hired an airbnb but then a friend of a friend offered for me to stay at their place whilst they were away. I cancelled the airbnb and I arrived at the accommodation. It was night and I met a neighbour who had the key. We went up the dark stairwell and everything felt off. It was a world of flickering lights and mosquitos. We stood outside the apartment as she searched for the key. There was this terrible noise above us. “What’s that?” “That’s the arabs upstairs drilling.” We went inside and the occupants had left the house a total mess. It all felt grim to me. And the sound of drilling continued upstairs. And the world felt like cockroaches. And I knew once the door shut behind me this would be the most awful night alone. So I plucked up the courage and overcame my politeness and said I can’t stay there. I called a friend and asked them to find me a hotel.
Whilst that was being arranged I waited in the apartment of the woman with the keys and her baby. Toys were everywhere. I was trying to politely respond to her conversation as a cartoon about trains was playing, but I was quietly managing a panic attack as I saw in my mind dead people on her floor amongst her baby’s toys and lying by the fluttering curtains.
Arranging the hotel was taking time and it was getting late.
In that time a family friend phoned and I started crying to them. Their daughter then messaged and said I could stay with them so I stayed at hers for the night, cried a few times in conversation, and had my first rocket experience - going into a safe room twice. I got about one hours sleep after trying to kill some mosquitos at four am.
The next afternoon I got a bit better because I tried not to talk about war things with people. I tried to give more territory in my mind to healthy things. I got an hours sleep in the day. I felt better when I transitioned from fear to healthy anger in a video - which was a relief because I was pushing my feelings outwards rather than crumbling inwards. I spoke to a lawyer friend who has worked on cases involving war crimes and has seen things. I got a good night’s sleep and felt good in the morning. I had a few moments of anxiety overcome me during the day. But it feels like they’re becoming less frequent and less powerful. I did cry again after speaking to a pair of siblings whose sister has been kidnapped and who asked me if I’d seen the video. When we hugged goodbye in tears it felt like the first real hug I’ve had since I’ve been here.
A trauma therapist kindly arranged to see me for free. And time passing seems to be helping. I’m glad I reacted badly because it means I’m a normal healthy human being. A healthy person should be horrified. Only an insane or wicked person could be comfortable with the crimes Hamas committed.
I don’t know what the language is yet to describe what I saw. I’m not sure what the vocabulary is. They did things that I don’t understand. I don’t understand how they did the things they did. I saw them do things and I don’t understand how they did it. To be able to do what they did is almost a superpower. It’s a superpower I don’t want. To be able to do they things they did and feel nothing but happiness. To be able to inflict that level of cruelty and be utterly indifferent to the people crying.
This is an account of how I’ve been affected. I wasn’t even there. I’m not even a family member of someone taken hostage. I wasn’t on a kibbutz hiding. I haven’t had to bury someone.
God only knows how the victims will get through this. I can only hope He does know and He doesn’t keep it to Himself.
We need to help the victims. There has to be an international coalition of love to help them through this.
As for the terrorists?
I don’t believe in the death penalty, but I believe those Hamas involved in the atrocities have to die. I hope the IDF kill them all. I hope they die in the sun or underground in darkness. I hope they die awake or asleep. I hope they die by bullets or bombs. They cannot be allowed to infect the world with their actions or words. I still don’t understand what I saw in the footage Hamas shot. I can only repeat myself: there is no vocabulary for it. It is almost a superpower to be able to behave the way they did. A superpower I don’t want. To commit such acts of evil - such inventive cruelty - and to have no pangs of empathy or conscience. They look like us and they have hands and legs - but they’re not us. They have eyes but the windows into their souls go into a charnel house where they wash themselves with skulls. We can’t share this world with whatever they are or whatever is inside them. They didn’t open a gate to hell. They are hell. And hell smiled to see its work. They want to devour anything that is not them. Which is any human incapable of doing what they did to women, children and babies for thirty six hours.
They mastered the art of sin and it is something no human should have ever learned to do, because now there are monsters among us. We cannot share the planet with them.
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Sim Dump #2
♡
(Velocity) Conner Kisser - Conner takes after his father, he's a certified playboy. He's the frontman of the band he started, "Velocity," and hopes to truly make it big someday. If you somehow end up falling for him he'll walk all over you and move onto the next in a matter of minutes.
(Velocity) Vanessa Blair - Vanessa had always been a hardcore party girl. Not long after enrolling into college, her extreme traditionalist parents disowned her. Whilst in college she met Conner, Ivy, and Lee, who convinced her to join their band without much hesitation from her.
(Velocity) Ivy Peters- Things were alwaysv rocky netween Ivy and her mother. Ivy's mother held incredibly high standards for Ivy that were often unreachable. When Ivy was in college, Conner proposed the idea of starting a band to Ivy. Ivy had been a pianist prodigy since a young age, and she had always wanted to be in a band. So despite her mothers strict expectations of her, she switched majors and became the bands first member.
(Velocity) Lee Fritz - Lee Fritz was the last man you'd expect to see in an indie-punk band. Lee grew up on the countryside with his two dads, Cohen and Nicholaus Fritz. He was a model student and a good kid who liked horses and fishing. However, when he met Ivy and Conner in highschool, something somehow swayed him and he ended up being the bassist.
Cortez Callaway - After being temporarily cut off from the family will, Cortez was forced to live among the "poor" and finally get a real job. This snobby bastard is trying his hardest to learn how to be a bit nicer but needless to say, it's not really working.
Clara Kerns - Clara recently broke up and moved out of her toxic ex-boyfriend's house after 2 long years.
Not San Myshuno this time, sorry lol. Just bought for rent and figured i'd share all the sims living in the little block on townhouses I got off the gallery!
Fun Fact: All of the members in Velocity are actually sims from my sims 3 generations gameplay i'm currently doing! I may post screenshots later on since I love the 4 of them so much (so much so I had to transfer them to my sims 4 save lol.) They are from my University Life + Late Night generation and they currently live in the beautiful world of Barcelona.
I wish sims 4 let you make custom worlds cause man is that world amazing
#sims4#sims4maxismix#sims4cas#sims4cc#sims4mm#ts4cc#FoggySave#FoggySaveFile#Foggy Save#sims 4 ocs#ts4 ocs#the sims 4#ts4#sims 4 save file#sims dump#sim dump
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Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones in Duel in the Sun (King Vidor, 1946)
Cast: Jennifer Jones, Gregory Peck, Joseph Cotten, Lionel Barrymore, Herbert Marshall, Lillian Gish, Walter Huston, Charles Bickford, Harry Carey, Tilly Losch, Butterfly McQueen. Screenplay: David O. Selznick, Oliver H.P. Garrett, based on a novel by Niven Busch. Cinematography: Lee Garmes, Ray Rennahan, Harold Rosson. Production design: J. McMillan Johnson. Film editing: Hal C. Kern. Music: Dimitri Tiomkin.
This is a bad movie, but it's one distinguished in the annals of bad movies because it was made by David O. Selznick, who as the poster shouted at moviegoers, was "The Producer Who Gave You 'GONE WITH THE WIND.'" Selznick made it to showcase Jennifer Jones, the actress who won an Oscar as the saintly Bernadette of Lourdes in The Song of Bernadette (Henry King, 1943). Selznick, who left his wife for Jones, wanted to demonstrate that she was capable of much more than the sweetly gentle piety of Bernadette, so he cast her as the sultry Pearl Chavez in this adaptation (credited to Selznick himself along with Oliver H.P. Garrett, with some uncredited help by Ben Hecht) of the novel by Niven Busch. Opposite Jones, Selznick cast Gregory Peck as the amoral cowboy Lewt McCanles, who shares a self-destructive passion with Pearl. Both actors are radically miscast. Jones does a lot of eye- and teeth-flashing as Pearl, while Peck's usual good-guy persona undermines his attempts to play rapaciously sexy. The plot is one of those familiar Western tropes: good brother Jesse (Joseph Cotten) against bad 'un Lewt, reflecting the ill-matched personalities of their parents, the tough old cattle baron Jackson McCanles (Lionel Barrymore) and his gentle (and genteel) wife, Laura Belle (Lillian Gish). Pearl is an orphan, the improbable daughter of an improbable couple, the educated Scott Chavez (Herbert Marshall) and a sexy Indian woman (Tilly Losch), who angers him by fooling around with another man (Sidney Blackmer). Chavez kills both his wife and her lover and is hanged for it, so Pearl is sent to live with the McCanleses -- Laura Belle is Chavez's second cousin and old sweetheart -- on their Texas ranch. It's all pretentiously packaged by Selznick: not many other movies begin with both a "Prelude" and an "Overture," composed by Dimitri Tiomkin in the best overblown Hollywood style. It has Technicolor as lurid as its story, shot by three major cinematographers, Lee Garmes, Ray Rennahan, and Harold Rosson. But any attempt to generate real heat between Jones and Peck was quickly stifled by the Production Code, which even forced Selznick to introduce a voiceover at the beginning to explain that the character of the frontier preacher known as "The Sinkiller" (entertainingly played by Walter Huston) was not intended to be a representative clergyman. There are a few good moments, including an impressive tracking shot at the barbecue on the ranch in which various guests offer their opinions of Pearl, the McCanles brothers, and other things. Whether this scene can be credited to director King Vidor, who was certainly capable of it, is an open question, because Vidor found working with the obsessive Selznick so difficult that he quit the film. Selznick directed some scenes, as did Otto Brower, William Dieterle, Sidney Franklin, William Cameron Menzies, and Josef von Sternberg, all uncredited. The resulting melange is not unwatchable, thanks to a few good performances in secondary roles (Huston, Charles Bickford, Harry Carey), and perhaps also to some really terrible ones (Lionel Barrymore at his most florid and Butterfly McQueen repeating her fluttery air-headedness from GWTW).
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it cannot be underestimated, nor understated, what a tremendous loss tony bennett is, even at the age of 96, because he truly stood as the last of the great crooners, the sensational singers of the great american songbook. those standards, written by such illustrious composers as the gershwins, cole porter, irving berlin, rodgers and hart, jerome kern, johnny mercer, et al, and the voices who sang them - frank sinatra, dean martin, nat king cole, ella fitzgerald, judy garland, peggy lee, andy williams, johnny mathis (who is still with us), the list goes on - were an indelible part of the culture, and shaped popular music, and indeed music history, in a way that we simply will never see again. their like no longer exists, and as irreplaceable as the jazz standards are, the songs that everyone once knew, sophisticated and yet always accessible, complex and yet a joy to sing, are being lost to time, less preserved as scintillating and alive and more relegated as museum pieces, which breaks my heart. lady gaga working with tony so beautifully brought some of that music back to the zeitgeist, but there's a real sense of lack of preservation as to what that music means culturally. it is an essential musical heritage, part of the fabric that all pop was built upon. "legend" is tossed around a lot, but that is what they all were, legendary. tony was one of its best interpreters, and we were so blessed to have him for as long as we did, for his embrace of younger artists that did keep that music vibrant and fresh, for the legacy he leaves. i really do pray that as time goes by (you must remember this...), that music is passed down somehow, that those golden refrains are still heard.
#tony bennett#knew this was coming but i am so so sad#thinking about gaga too because of how much he meant to her 😔❤#the songbook is truly so cherished and close to my heart and the most “home” in music to me no matter what#and i just want it to be loved and remembered#bubble wrap around my heart#music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent#may his memory be a blessing
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Ein schwarzes, langärmliges Kleid mit weißen Manschetten, einem hohen, weißen Kragen und aufwendig bestickten Details, zusammen mit transparenten, schwarzen Strümpfen und schwarzen Samtstiefeletten mit mittelhohem Absatz. Vielleicht nicht unbedingt gerade der fröhlichste Aufzug, um vor eine Schar nervtötender, kleiner Monster zu treten - aber immer noch besser als dieser furchtbare Abklatsch von Zusammenstellung eines perfekten 'Outfits', wie Mr. Lee es ursprünglich für sie vorgesehen hatte. Kleide dich nicht wie Morticia Addams, hatte er sie mit weinerlicher Stimme angefleht. Du musst auf dein Image achten. Wenn sie derweilige Floskeln nur wirklich ansatzweise interessiert hätten, wäre dieser duckmäuserische Idiot von Mann wahrscheinlich still und selig und somit niemandem unnötig auf den Geist gegangen. Er war es aber nicht, also galt es jetzt primär darum, die Ohren auf stumm zu schalten und ihm einfach keine Beachtung zu schenken, damit seine Hysterie sich nicht verschlimmerte. Der wolkenverhangene Himmel tauchte die Umgebung in ein trostloses Grau, während die Autorin ausdruckslos aus den getönten Fenstern der Limousine starrte und sich nicht die geringste Spur von Emotionen in ihren Augen widerspiegelte. Mun-Yeong unterstrich ihre nicht zu übersehende Unzufriedenheit über den Besuch der heruntergekommenen Chundong-Grundschule mit einem abfälligen Augenrollen. Diese Gören waren wahrscheinlich nicht nur zu dämlich, um den eigentlichen Kern der Geschichte zu entschlüsseln, sie fielen auch zweifellos in die Kategorie der klassischen, schreienden Bestien, die bei jedem ihrer Worte ohne Umschweife in Tränen ausbrachen. Die junge Koreanerin hatte sich mittlerweile daran gewöhnt, dass ihre ungeschminkte Beschreibung der Realität von anderen als übertrieben und bitter empfunden wurde. Doch es waren letztendlich ja immer wieder die selben Individuen da draußen, die dafür bekannt waren, ihre eigens erschaffenen, lächerlichen Möchtegern-Märchenwelten der schonungslosen Wahrheit vorzuziehen. Ironischerweise war ein Märchen jedoch alles andere als eine hoffnungsvolle Erzählung. Sie überlegte, wann die Menschheit endlich erwachen und dies als gegebene Tatsache akzeptieren würde, bevor sie komplett in Selbstmitleid, Enttäuschung und Wut über ihre eigene Verdrängungstaktik versank. „Was für ein erbärmliches Etablissement“, bemerkte sie gleichgültig und warf Mr. Lee, ihrem Manager, einen kalten Blick zu. „Nur damit Sie Bescheid wissen: Ich werde mich irgendwie durch diese Unterrichtsstunde quälen und dann bin ich sofort weg, um mir meine wohlverdiente Zigarre zu gönnen. Haben Sie das verstanden? Reservieren Sie mir hinterher einen Platz im Restaurant vom letzten Mal. Die Qualität der Steakmesser dort war wirklich beachtlich." Er seufzte beunruhigt, legte aus alter Gewohnheit eine Hand auf seine Stirn und schüttelte nur müde den Kopf. Es war zwecklos, mit dieser Frau (Oder eher Furie) zu streiten. Ihre dunklen, fast schwarzen Augen waren nicht nur kälter als jeder Eisblock, es war auch äußerst gefährlich Mun-Yeong unnötig in Rage zu versetzen. In einem solchen Zustand konnte sie womöglich ein ganzes Gebäude niederbrennen, wenn sie wollte. Natürlich hatte Geld solche Probleme bis jetzt immer gelöst und im Gegenzug dafür das nötige Schweigen erbracht – aber manchmal war es schlicht und ergreifend besser, das Glück nicht unnötig herauszufordern. „Versuch zumindest, nicht so hart mit ihnen umzuspringen“, antwortete Lee Sang-In besorgt und eilte der unnahbaren Schönheit hinterher, als sie zusammen aus dem Fahrzeug ausstiegen. "Nur dieses eine Mal."
"Abgelehnt", entgegnete sie prompt.
Das Geräusch ihrer energischen Schritte hallte gespenstisch in den Fluren wider, ehe sie plötzlich abrupt stehen blieb und sich langsam und bedächtig umdrehte, während ihr Begleiter immer noch vor sich hinredete, wie ein übereifriger Wasserfall. Sang-In schluckte, denn er wusste genau, was es bedeutete, wenn sie ihren raubtierhaften Blick auf ihn richtete. „Mr. Lee“, murmelte sie mit dunkler Stimme, fast schon zärtlich und verführerisch. „Wollen Sie sterben?“ Der Mann mit dem Dreitagebart schluckte leise und sagte kein Wort. Das war Antwort genug für Mun-Yeong. „Dachte ich mir irgendwie. Warten Sie hier und hören Sie auf, sich zu beschweren.“ Mit einem resignierten Seufzer betrat sie das kleine Klassenzimmer und rümpfte instinktiv die Nase. Das hier war der Beweis dafür, warum sie Schulen hasste. Es roch nach feuchtem Tafelschwamm, kindlichem Schweiß und einer Menge verschwendeter Lebenszeit. Keines der anwesenden Kinder schien es zudem für nötig zu halten, ihr auch nur den kleinsten Hauch von Aufmerksamkeit zu schenken; zum Glück wusste sie allerdings sehr gut, auf welchem Weg sich das ändern ließ. Unbeirrt griff die Schwarzhaarige nach einem Stückchen Kreide und ließ es langsam schräg über die Tafel gleiten. Ein schrilles Geräusch ertönte und veranlasste jeden Schüler, einschließlich die sich mit im Raum befindende Lehrerin, sich sofort die Ohren zuzuhalten und sämtliche Visagen zu grotesken Fratzen zu verzerren. Und doch erhob niemand ob des krächzenden Tons auch nur die geringsten Einwände. Die voluminösen Lippen der Autorin verzogen sich zu einem verschmitzten, zufriedenen Lächeln. So hatte Dominanz auszusehen und nicht anders.
"Einige von euch kennen mich vielleicht schon und haben sogar ein paar meiner Bücher im Regal stehen. Andere hingegen werden sich nicht im Geringsten um mich kümmern, aber das ist auch vollkommen egal, denn das beruht auf Gegenseitigkeit. Dennoch möchte ich mich kurz vorstellen: Ich bin Schriftstellerin Ko Mun-Yeong und heute zu euch gekommen, um euch über die Bedeutung von Märchen aufzuklären und mehr über deren wahre Hintergründe zu sprechen. Zu diesem Zweck habe ich heute ein Buch mitgebracht, das ihr alle sicherlich kennt“, erklärte sie ausdruckslos und hob dabei ihre stark geschwungenen Brauen. Hinter ihrem Rücken zog sie ein dünnes, hellblaues Buch hervor, dessen Einband ein großer, bunter Fisch mit glitzernden Schuppen zierte. „Es geht um den Regenbogenfisch, ein Buch eines bekannten Schweizer Autors. Kennt jemand von euch diese Geschichte?“ Sofort schossen aufgeregt mindestens zehn dünne Ärmchen hoch in die Luft. Mun-Yeong wählte zufällig ein Kind aus und hielt sich nicht zu lange mit den anderen auf. Sie hatte weder Zeit, noch Lust, sich mit all diesen kleinen Biestern gleichzeitig abzugeben. „Ja, du da, mit dem pickeligen Gesicht und den kurzen Haaren“, ließ sie das Mädchen ungeniert wissen, das allerdings aufgeregt lächelte und offensichtlich nicht richtig hingehört hatte. „Don-Woong“, stellte sie sich vor, stand schnell auf und verbeugte sich höflich. „Ja, ich kenne diese Geschichte! Da geht es um einen Fisch, der schöne, bunte Glitzerschuppen hat“, plapperte sie begeistert, „Und die will er nicht mit den anderen Fischen teilen, die ihn dafür bewundern, weil er sehr eingebildet und egoistisch ist.“ Als die anderen Schüler aufmerksam nickten und dies synchron mit einem lauten "Ja" bestätigten, wurde Mun-Yeongs Gesichtsausdruck plötzlich kalt und unnachgiebig. In ihren Augen begann ein seltsames Flackern aufzulodern, wie es oft der Fall war, wenn sich etwas – wie unbestimmt und klein es auch sein mochte – in ihr regte. Etwas, das sie kannte, aber kaum verstand. Schwache, kleine Kreaturen, dachte sie stumm. Naive Idioten, die blind glauben, was die Gesellschaft ihnen eintrichtern will. Normalerweise gehört der Autor dafür verprügelt, dass er solche Gedanken und Ansichten fördert. Doch äußerlich blieb Mun-Yeong stoisch, gefasst und scheinbar regungslos. „Falsch“, antwortete sie frostig, was die kleine Zweitklässlerin ziemlich verblüfft und zuweilen auch erschrocken zurückließ. „Aber…“ Mun-Yeong stand auf und verschränkte die Arme hinter dem Rücken. Diese albernen Einwände brachten nichts und sie war es leid, sich ständig irgendwelche Rechtfertigungen anhören zu müssen. „Das ist nur das, was der Leser aus der Geschichte heraus ableitet, doch vor allem es ist nur eine persönliche Sichtweise. Wer sagt, dass der Regenbogenfisch so eingebildet war, wie du glaubst?“ erwiderte sie scharf und neigte neugierig den Kopf zur Seite. Ihrem Ausdruck lag beinahe etwas Provokantes inne. „Aber er wollte doch nicht teilen und seine Schönheit für sich behalten... und der Tintenfisch hat gesagt…“
„Oh, dieser verdammte, toxische Tintenfisch“, warf Mun-Yeong flüchtig lachend ein, sich völlig darüber im Klaren, dass sie gerade vor kleinen Kindern fluchte. Sollten sich all die politisch korrekten Jammerlappen doch darüber aufregen. Es hätte sie nicht weniger stören können. „Er ist genauso schlimm wie die sogenannten Freunde, als die die anderen Fische sich tarnen wollten. Hört alle gut gut zu, denn ich werde euch erklären, worum es in dieser Geschichte wirklich geht. Der Regenbogenfisch wird als „der schönste Fisch im ganzen Ozean“ beschrieben. Er hat wunderschöne, schillernde Schuppen, die ihn einzigartig machen. Aber wenn jemand etwas Besonderes ist, erzeugt das eine Menge Neid um ihn herum. Und dieser Neid führte dazu, dass die anderen Fische auch etwas Besonderes sein wollten. Sie betteln den Regenbogenfisch an, seine Schuppen mit ihm zu teilen, aber er weigerte sich, weil er selbst denken konnte und sich seiner Individualität bewusst war“, fuhr sie fort.
„Die anderen Fische zeigten ihr wahres Gesicht, als er bewusst ablehnte, denn sie wussten danach, dass sie ihn nicht manipulieren konnten. Zur Strafe begannen die anderen also, ihn absichtlich zu meiden. Das ist es auch, was Menschen tun, wenn sie mit Dingen konfrontiert werden, die sie nicht hören wollen. Sie ziehen es vor, vor ihren Problemen davonzulaufen, und wenn jemand sie auf direkte Art und Weise damit konfrontiert, fühlen sie sich bloßgestellt. Für sie gibt es dann keinen direkten Fluchtweg mehr. Der Regenbogenfisch konnte die Einsamkeit nicht länger ertragen. Er sehnte sich nach Anerkennung und Freundschaft, musste aber auf schmerzliche Weise lernen, dass man ihn nur mochte, wenn er entweder sein eigenes Wesen und seinen Charakter aufgab, oder sich bereitwillig ausnutzen ließ. Der Tintenfisch erkannte diese Schwäche und sah eine Gelegenheit für sein eigenes, manipulatives Spiel. Er gab ihm den schlechtesten Rat, den man jemals jemandem geben kann: Gib das auf, was dich einzigartig macht, damit du nicht für den Rest deines Lebens allein sein musst. Zweifel nagten vielleicht an ihm. Er könnte sich gedacht haben: „Warum bin ich überhaupt anders? Bin ich gut genug? Darf ich denn sein, wer ich bin, wenn alle anderen mich dafür hassen? Sollte ich mich selbst hassen?“ Das, liebe Kinder, nennen wir Erwachsene intrusive Gedanken. Merkt euch das gut, denn wenn ihr älter seid, werdet ihr später reichlich davon haben. Und was ist am Ende genau passiert? Er opferte seine Schuppen und hatte nur noch eine Einzige übrig – genau wie die anderen Fische, die alle zu einer langweiligen Einheit geworden waren. Der Regenbogenfisch selbst war nichts Besonderes mehr, aber die anderen schienen ihn wieder zu mögen… und das ist doch alles, was zählt, nicht wahr? Natürlich ist das nichts weiter als eine grausame Lüge. Sie werden ihn nur mögen, solange er ihnen gibt, was sie wollen. Sobald das nicht mehr der Fall ist, werden sie ihn wieder verlassen und er wird erneut einsam sein. Die anderen Fische repräsentieren unsere Gesellschaft. Sie möchten von euren Stärken, Talenten und eurer Einzigartigkeit profitieren, um ihren eigenen Mangel an Kreativität auszugleichen. Sie werden euch immer als den Bösewicht darstellen und euch ständig die Schuld für ihr Versagen geben, weil sie es nicht ertragen können, euch alleine strahlen und glänzen zu sehen. Wie ein hungriger Schwarm Piranhas umzingelten die anderen Fische den Regenbogenfisch und verschlangen ihn mit Haut und Haaren. Oder eben… Schuppen. Seine Identität, seine Individualität und alles, was ihn einst so besonders machte. Was blieb, war nichts weiter als ein Spiegelbild dessen, was er einst war. Eine leere Hülle. Wahre Freunde werden sich immer für euch freuen, wenn ihr strahlt und glänzt. Sie werden euren ehrlichen Charakter schätzen, nicht neidisch sein oder versuchen, etwas an euch zu ändern. Sie werden euch immer unterstützen. Und das… bedeutet wahre Freundschaft." Sie setzte ein zuckersüßes, unschuldiges Lächeln auf. "Wenn ihr also immer alles teilen möchtet, gehorsam sein und stets das tun wollt, was andere euch sagen, dann macht weiter damit. Aber die Piranhas werden auch euch verschlingen. Und ihr werdet genauso leer, einsam und allein sein wie der Regenbogenfisch aus der Geschichte."
Im Klassenzimmer breitete sich eine bedrückende Stille aus, die nur durch das monotone, rhythmische Ticken der Wanduhr unterbrochen wurde. Mun-Yeong bemerkte, wie sich die Augen der Kinder weiteten und langsam tellergroß wurden – bevor ein leises Schluchzen zu hören war, das sich in eine Kakophonie aus lautem Weinen verwandelte. Trotz allem fühlte sie nichts. Absolut gar nichts. So sehr sie sich auch anstrengte und versuchte, jede Empfindung und sämtliche Reize für sich zu beanspruchen, blieb alles beim Alten. Da war nur das gleiche, dumpfe Gefühl in ihrer Brust. Ebenso vertraut und vorhersehbar wie die larmoyante Reaktion der Grundschüler.
#𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬. ᅳ You're a storyteller - dream up something wild and improbable; something beautiful and full of monsters.#writingsfakevz
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