Fic set during season 6 where dean DOES know that Cas is watching him and it Does Something To Him. At first it's just a feeling, like an idea at the back of his mind and he doesn't know why it bothers him so much, and then the more he becomes convinced of it the more he starts acting out. At first he thinks it's because he's pissed at Cas for leaving without saying goodbye and just going radio silent, and he's like rubbing his new life in his face a little like- see I'm happy, I'm fine I don't need to play a part in god's plan. And that includes like, getting out of bed for the first time in weeks and making himself go outside and clean up the yard and go to the grocery store and have dinner waiting for Lisa when she comes home. And the whole time he's kind of like. He probably isn't here. I'm probably just making this up. And then one day he kisses Lisa in the kitchen and the light above the stove blows just as the radio turns on, and then the next thing he knows he's like, desperately jerking off in the shower and Lisa isn't even there and he doesn't know what he's trying to prove anymore it that anything?

Politically Incorrect Thought #89 : Post-modern Halloween Horror

Over the past few decades, horror movies have been progressing to more graphic violence, not only showing brutal images, but showing them with seemingly medical precision. The craft of filmmaking has evolved. Yet for all the bloody scenes of torture and mutilation, blood and gore,* that are enthusiastically shown on the screen, and enthusiastically gobbled up by horror movie buffs, filmmakers have yet to make movies showing the brutality of abortion.** It seems to be a subject unexplored and thus ripe for horror films.

Here’s a sample scenario. A sociopath becomes a serial killer by becoming an abortionist doctor, filling her emotional need to murder by aborting babies. But eventually she gets bored — aborting babies legally lacks the predatory thrill of the hunt; the thrill of causing someone pain. So the Doctor begins to kidnap pregnant women who do not want an abortion, who are preparing to become mothers. She chains them up to a creaky, rusty chair inside her creaky, crusty old cabin deep in some dark woods and gruesomely aborts their babies, sometimes through C-sections. She collect the fetuses of varying age as trophies, pickling them in a jar, to be enjoyed as a side dish. But the women the Doctor doesn’t kill. She releases them afterwards, drugged and naked, holding a photograph of their aborted baby, free to endure a lifelong psychological trauma.*** And here is the shocking reveal — the Doctor is not a she, but a he. His envy and resentment of not having a womb leads him to commit his grotesque crimes.

But soon, even this becomes boring and the Doctor, like the infamous protagonist of Mary Shelley’s novel, begins medical experiments — he cuts out the wombs from kidnapped young women whose babies he’s aborted legally at his clinic (“You don’t deserve the womb you’ve been born with!” he tells them.) and stuffs them into the stomachs of the women’s kidnapped boyfriends (or husbands or one time lovers), trying to perfect this procedure in order to perform it on himself so as to finally, finally, feel complete and feel like a whole woman.

Maybe I’ll make this into a graphic novel, a graphic graphic novel. Deviant art that actually deserves to be called such. Of course, this could be developed into a crude, vulgar work of shock art, or into a sophisticated examination of gender identity, sexuality, reproduction, sanity, self-deception and life. It could be developed into a companion piece to Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”, becoming a post-modern Prometheus tale.

______

* The pornography of violence is a complement to the pornography of sex. I’m surprised that the two have not been combined. (Maybe they have, but I’m just not aware of it.****) Some people think of sex as violence — repeatedly thrusting one’s penis into a woman’s vagina, or a woman’s rectum (or a man’s rectum), has a look and feel of aggression and violence***** — and also as a struggle for power. So combining the two genres into a titillating gore fest makes sense. Porn horror?

** That’s partly because it lacks conflict. Abortion is seen as a victimless act because the fetus that is being aborted is not considered a victim, and it is not considered a victim largely because it is not seen as being a conscious being.

*** In thinking up this scenario, I realized something. I realized that there seems to be no psychological trauma. What I mean is that with fifty million babies aborted in the past fifty years (in U.S), there is no talk of any trauma having been experienced by the women who aborted these babies. It seems that women can kill the offspring growing in their bellies with an emotional detachment that is inhuman. I mean, the birth of a baby is the most significant event in a person’s (male or female) life. Nothing comes close — not being hired by Google or Microsoft or Apple; not being drafted by an NFL team; not buying your first car, or your first house. So, if the birth of a baby is such a life changing moment, arousing intense feelings of joy and fear and doubt, I would think that the killing of a baby would qualify as such also. Each should produce intense emotional effects, though obviously, dramatically different ones. Getting an abortion is not like getting a haircut. Yet that is the way it is presented. Killing a baby has been normalized to such an extent that all that it elicits is an annoyance at having to waste a couple of hours at a clinic when one could be tweeting or facebooking instead. Medical science really needs to invent a more convenient way of getting rid of an unwanted fetus.

**** I am not a fan of pornography. I’ve seen it. It produces momentary excitement, but I don’t understand its addictiveness. It’s not addictive, it’s boring. I don’t mean that sex is boring, I mean that watching other people having sex is boring. It’s a little like watching NASCAR — a bunch of cars going round and round and round and…etc.

***** The words “aggression” and “violence” have exclusively negative connotations in the current Western culture. But maybe our judgment of them is too simplistic and one-sided. Maybe aggression and violence are not always bad. After all, our survival depends on them. Most animals get their food by aggression and violence. We have forgotten this because we get our food from grocery stores. Sometimes, we protect ourselves and our young with aggression and violence. Maybe it’s time we acknowledge our modern biases and re-evaluate the concepts of “aggression” and “violence”.

But sodomy does seem like an especially aggressive and violent act. It is peculiar that contemporary feminists, who are as quick as a prick to look for any aggression and violence against women in words and phrases and thoughts, have not condemned, or even acknowledged, sodomy as being an act of aggression and violence by men against women.

Czech Republic's Marketa Vondrousova Makes Unlikely Wimbledon Triumph After Beating Tunisia's Ons Jabeur

Marketa Vondrousova, an unexpected contender at Wimbledon, defied all odds and emerged victorious, marking a turning point in her career. In a stunning performance on Saturday, Vondrousova defeated the favored Ons Jabeur from Tunisia in straight sets, 6-4, 6-4, surprising not only herself but also her family, friends, and the entire tennis community. At the age of 24, Vondrousova achieved a remarkable feat by becoming the first unseeded player to claim the Wimbledon title. She joins a prestigious line of Czech-born women who have triumphed at this historic tournament, following in the footsteps of the legendary Martina Navratilova, who dominated Wimbledon in the 1980s after defecting to the United States. While Vondrousova shares similarities with Navratilova as a left-handed player with a crafty slice serve, their playing styles diverge. Unlike Navratilova, known for her aggressive serve-and-volley approach, Vondrousova employs a more unorthodox game. Her victory at Wimbledon adds to her growing reputation as an under-the-radar player capable of shattering tennis fairy tales. https://twitter.com/Wimbledon/status/1680296171116580865?t=Z4gIcvJdqK_2fMzWsNoc9w&s=19 Vondrousova's journey to the title included notable wins against top players. She defeated Naomi Osaka at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, shortly after Osaka had ignited the Olympic flame with high expectations of winning a gold medal on home soil. In the semifinals, Vondrousova triumphed over Elina Svitolina, an inspiring new mother from Ukraine who had rallied her nation amidst Russia's invasion. Vondrousova's surprising success at Wimbledon came despite her lack of previous achievements on grass courts. Initially, her goal was simply to win a couple of matches. However, she surpassed all expectations, leading to her incredulous declaration, "Now this happened, it's crazy." Adding to the remarkable narrative, Vondrousova faced adversity during the tournament. She played with a cast on her wrist, having undergone surgery at Wimbledon the previous year. Her husband, Stepan Simek, opted to stay at home to take care of their hairless Sphynx cat until the semifinals, when he rushed to Wimbledon to witness his wife's remarkable journey. Their first anniversary celebration would follow the final. Vondrousova's best friend and doubles partner, Miriam Kolodziejova, also expressed her disbelief at her friend's singles triumph, describing it as a dream come true for both of them.

Ons Jabeur struggled uncharacteristically throughout the match. On the other side of the court, Jabeur faced a heartbreaking loss, falling short of becoming the first woman of Arab descent and from Africa to win a Grand Slam. Jabeur had long dreamed of winning Wimbledon, even using a picture of the women's trophy as her phone's lock screen. Although she started strongly, breaking Vondrousova's serve multiple times in the first set, Jabeur's game unraveled, resulting in her defeat. Vondrousova's victory showcased her ability to keep the ball in play and execute her unique shots, which posed a challenge for Jabeur accustomed to power tennis. Despite Jabeur's valiant efforts, she struggled to regain her rhythm and made numerous unforced errors, ultimately losing five of the last six games. The final point saw Vondrousova sealing her triumph with a running backhand volley into the open court. Overwhelmed with emotion, she collapsed onto the grass in celebration. After embracing Jabeur, Vondrousova reflected on her calmness throughout the final, acknowledging it as the key to her success.

Vondrousova and Jabeur embraced at the net. Jabeur, known as the "Minister of Happiness" for her positive demeanor, experienced a painful loss. Holding back tears, she assured the crowd that she would not give up and promised to return stronger. Vondrousova's victory adds to the Czech Republic's tennis success story. With eight Czech women ranked in the top 50, the country has become a dominant force in women's tennis. Most of these players, including Vondrousova, are in their mid-twenties or younger, exemplifying the nation's exceptional talent pool. Vondrousova's triumph at Wimbledon unfolded against the backdrop of her tennis clubmate Karolina Muchova's inspiring run at the French Open, where she narrowly missed claiming the title. Both players have faced setbacks due to injuries, yet they continue to draw motivation from each other's journeys. Vondrousova's wrist injury caused her to appreciate tennis on a deeper level. She realizes that it is not just a job but a sport to be enjoyed and loved. Her genuine passion for the game, even extending to watching matches, sets her apart. As Vondrousova and her husband, Stepan Simek, plan to commemorate her Grand Slam victory with a tattoo, the Czech Republic celebrates their tennis prodigy. While Jabeur endured a painful defeat, her determination to bounce back stronger inspires hope for her future performances. Wimbledon witnessed the rise of an unlikely champion in Vondrousova, whose victory adds another remarkable chapter to the annals of tennis history. Read the full article

𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐓, 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑, 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓, 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍

WHO: rachel and ivy st.james. ​ WHERE: spotlight diner, nyc. WHEN: saturday, 2/27. WHAT: rachel and jesse have been wanting eli and ivy to visit them in new york since they left in december. during this weekend visit, while jesse takes eli to tour nyu, rachel and ivy go get lunch at the spotlight diner and perform a slightly lesson appropriate song. 

IVY’S WORLD HAD FELT TOPSY TURVEY SINCE THE NEW DIRECTIONS REGIONALS. she thought with each day that passed, that her conflicted feelings would fade, but they had in fact done the opposite and intensified. winning with vocal adrenaline didn’t even feel that good, so what was she still doing there? it was candyland with mostly mckinley kids, a night shared with julien, a cathartic audition, realizations about davis, and a fun night spent bowling with her friends that left her knowing she had made a big mistake. if she was on this mission to get in touch with the innermost and tender parts of herself she had left in summer of 2040, ivy believed that the best way to do that was return to mckinley with this fresh perspective, and continue the ongoing work on herself. but where she ran into issues was the prospect of potentially disappointing her parents. she knew that mckinley’s chances of winning nationals maybe weren’t as great as vocal adrenaline’s, and it was fresh in her mind how excited her father had been when she announced she was going to attend carmel. not to mention, there was a laundry list of people she had burned in the process that she’d need to figure out how to say sorry to. so now sat across her mother, poking at her salad, ivy stared with uncertainty, hoping that if she looked just hard enough rachel would ask-- “what’s wrong, sweetie? do you not like the food? i know it’s not the greatest, but we came here for nostalgia more than anything. nobody really comes here for the food, it’s just like a musical theater breadstix, but in new york!” 

when her mother finished a familiar fast-paced ramble, ivy set her fork down and shook her head, “no, it’s not that, it’s just...” i have no idea what i’m doing, and i really need my mom right now. “is being double-casted for wendla bugging you? you know it’s not exactly the same but when lemon’s mom auditioned to be my understudy for funny girl i was completely psyched out. it’s totally normal, but i know you’ll still shine as bright as ever!” rachel said with a smile, but ivy still had a discomforted expression on her face. the double cast had been a shock, but that wasn’t even what was challenging ivy about the week of rehearsal under her belt. and more importantly, that wasn’t even a conversation ivy was looking to have right now. “no, wendla’s like, fine or whatever.” she answered, rubbing her lips together before dropping the bomb, “i was actually thinking like, maybe i need to transfer back to mckinley.” now launching into a quick rant of her own, ivy raced to explain herself, “i really like vocal adrenaline and stuff, like, i like the solos and i like being appreciated or whatever, but i just don’t think it’s for me. and i know winning is like important or whatever, but i really just miss...” a breath out. “my friends.” 

now setting her fork down, rachel st.james offered her daughter a thoughtful, “oh.” it hadn’t come as a surprise to the woman that ivy had reached this point. it was a lesson that both herself and her husband had to learn the hard way, many times over: sometimes success and a career isn’t nearly as important as the relationships and memories collected along the way. of course, rachel and jesse expected a certain degree of musical theater and show choir domination from their children ivy, but in seeing her daughter look so conflicted across from her brought out a more nurturing side in rachel. “i think i know what you’re going through.” she began, a slew of memories popping into her head of times she had chosen herself first. she was sure jesse would be able to provide similar insight if he really tried, but she also knew he wouldn’t be able to do it gently. 

so, rachel decided to communicate that sentiment in the one way she had always known how. rising from her seat, ivy watched as her mother crossed over to the current working manager and spoke to him in words she couldn’t make out. moments later that’s life (by frank sinatra or from smash, depending on who’s answering) sounded throughout the speakers of the restaurant. as rachel st.james made her way to the empty stage, heads in the restaurant turned to follow broadway star in disbelief they would be getting a free performance with their lunch. ivy still sat in place, staring as her mother soulfully began to sing to and for her 

“that's life, that's what people say, you're riding high in april, shot down in may, but I know I'm gonna change their tune, when I'm back, back on top in june.”

through the lyrics rachel expressed pretty much everything ivy needed to hear with a simple sentiment: that’s life. plans change, you’re selfish and you mess up, but there’s no shame in wanting to amend things. the woman beckoned her daughter on stage with a gesture of the finger and a warm smile and as ivy crossed to meet her, she began to sing,

“mmmm, that's life, funny as it may seem, some people get their kicks, steppin' on a dream--” 

as she sang and slowly made her way up to the stage, there was a certain aggression and air of annoyance in her tone. in recent weeks, it had became more and more obvious to her just exactly what pretenses davis had with bringing her on to vocal adrenaline. while she was still on the team, she was hardly brave enough to give him her piece of mind about it, but she didn’t like being toyed with. and she didn’t like the fact that he’d gotten so much satisfaction out of manipulating her away from her life, and it showed as she sang. 

by now, ivy had reached the stage, and rachel cut into her verse and chided “ivy.” looking down at her child knowingly, and tapping her jaw. ivy knew that meant to relax and to sing out more, she managed to laugh briefly about it, then continued singing less jadedly and more optimistic. 

“but I just can't let them get me down, no, no, ‘cause this big old world keeps spinnin' around”

continuing to converse with song, rachel made it all the more apparent that she understood ivy’s sentiments exactly by communicating that, “i've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate a poet, a pawn and a queen.” ivy nodded a little, and lyrically added in feelings that matched her own current situation, “i’ve been up and down and over and out and, oh, the drama i’ve seen” there was an exhausted tone to her voice for performance value, but a confidence on her face that said, after being up and down and over and out she was ready to return to mckinley high.

turning to face ivy, rachel sang “each time I find myself flat on my face...” ivy, in turn, faced her mother and finished the lyric “i pick myself up and get back in the race!” before uniting for a “that’s life” that solicited a few whoops and whistles from those eating at the restaurant, and were hanging on to every note. 

the pair continued their duet in a heartfelt manner as lyrics consistently pertained to their own lives. looking at each other and singing from the soul, ivy had another musical epiphany. long gone were the days of being played by davis and hurting the people she cared about in the name of a trophy. ivy was mckinley bound, and come monday, she was ready to talk her way back into a cheerios uniform and on the new directions. as this decisiveness played out in real time, rachel and ivy joined hands as they sang out, 

“i've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,a poet, a pawn and a queen. i've been up and down and over and out and, oh, the drama we've seen! each time we find ourselves.....flat on our face we pick ourselves up and get back in the race!” 

with music swelling to it’s greatest heights, they each belted out their own ‘that’s life’ while beaming from ear to ear as they made each word count and pushed out powerful harmonies. the song finished out with a back and forth name calling of sister, mother, and broadway star took place before more individual belting. the song ended with them joined together as a flawless vocal unit. as the diner stood up and applauded them, for once ivy didn’t care about the adoring cheers of strangers. instead, she was riding the high of clarity the number had given her. waving to the audience, ivy watched her mother in awe as she commanded the stage with a bow, then linked ivy’s arm to her own to walk her back to their table. rachel sang praises of their song and ivy’s vocal performance, and while ivy would usually be lapping up what her mom was telling her, this time she cut in and asked, “so will you and dad like, sign my transfer papers when we all get back to the loft?” only to be met by a firm and proud nod from her mother.

THE END.

Can I have a short fic for the pairing Henry x Joey, please? One where Joey takes Henry on a date to a haunted house?

I had fun writing this one. Thank you for the request!

———

The two meet in a coffee shop on there college campus. Henry went there to work on some history assignments that were do this week. He’d found this place was one of the best places to go for peace and quiet, besides the liberal. And it was later the usually for Henry to do his work. The liberal was closed by now so there he went. Joey goes to the coffee shop to get warm up after an investigation if it was cold out. Which it was that night. He would read a book he was on which at that time was a book oh true other worldly stories.

He was on a story about a girl that could talk to the dead, when he looked up and saw this guy his age paying for his coffee He was good looking in a nerdy way. But he was also a nerd to. Joey closed the book and got up, walking over to the guy who was waiting for his coffee.

He leans on the wall next to the guy. “Hey, you waiting for coffee?”

Henry looked at him. “Me?”

Joey nodded. “Yes. Sorry. You waiting?” Joey scratched the back of his own head, nervously.

Henry smiled. “No worries man. Yea I’m waiting for my coffee. Are you?”

“Uh. I uh already drank mine.” Joey pointed to his table, failing miserably to ack cool.

Henry looked at the guys table and sees a book and a mostly empty coffee cup. “Your into that kind of things? Ghost and monsters?” There was no judgment in Henry’s voice. It was all wander.

Joey smiled and nodded. Glad he didn’t bale out by now when Joey was being awkward and glad he wasn’t judging him. “Are you?

Henry shook his head no. “Nah. I never gotten into the paranormal. “He replied. The employee called his name and he grabbed his coffee and they both sat at the table Joey was a few minutes before. “Do you believe in it?”

Joey nodded without a doubt. “Oh yes. I don’t just believe in it. I seen it with my own eyes!” He said passionately. “Do you believe in it?”

Henry took a long moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not really sure. I mean there got to be other..things out there but I never really thought of these stuff, I guess.” Henry sipped his coffee.

“Would you..like to see...?” Joey asked. “There are haunted places around here. I could take you if you like?” Joey offered

”I don’t know..your not gonna murder be and make me become a ghost haunting a house right?” Henry Joked.

Joey chuckled at his joke. “Hmm not sure. I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.”

The two both chuckled for a good minute then Joey turns to him. “ i’m serious. I’ll show you the other side if you want.”

“You know what, Sure. I’ll take you on that offer.” Henry nodded. And that’s how Henry Stain gotten a date at an abandoned haunted house next Saturday.

——

On the next following Saturday Henry meet Joey in game room of there dorms rooms. “Are you ready?” Joey ask him once he got there. “You know you can back down at anytime you need to, right?”

Henry nodded. “I got it. I’m ready.”

The two had to sneak around to get off campus. They hide behind walls, ran to the next spot and kept out of the lights so the security guards don’t see them. When they made it off campus they could relax now as they walked to there location.

Henry followed Joey down the side of the road then down a dirt path, leading deeper into the woods. it took a while but they came upon a run down house.

Joey slipped off his bag off his shoulder and unzipped it. “Couple things you should know first Henry. 1: because were you step. Lucky there’s no basement but you have to be careful going up the stairs and walking around. Could be holes or the floor could be ready to cave in.”

Henry nodded. “be careful walking, got it.”

Joey nodded. “2. Because of homeless people. Sometimes they can be aggressive. Be careful with animals to. and last be aware of spirts. If you feel bad of any kind. You tell me and we’re getting out of here.”

The last rule made Henry a lot more nervous but he nodded. “Right..”

Joey pulled out two mask and two flashlights. “Put this on. There’s mold in there.” He handed Henry a flashlight and a mask.

They both put on there mask and flicked on there lights. Joey grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder again then they headed inside.

Henry followed Joey inside the door. The first thing he noticed was the rat droppings on the floor. He gave the room a sweep with his light and notice the level of dust that covered everything.

They moved outta the kitchen to the living room. Everything was still there. Toys, books, furniture. “ it’s so..creepy...Everything’s here still.” Henry questioned.

“It is isn’t it?” Joey ask, looking over the old yellow books. ”A lot of places that were abandoned is like this. Just left how they’d been living here...almost like they just.. disappeared into thin air.”

Henry nodded in agreement. “What happen here that made them get up and leave without there stuff?” He turned to Joey.

Joey turned to him as well. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes!” Henry nodded.

“The last family that bought this house was the millers family. A nice lovely family. Mother, father, on oldest son and two younger daughters two years about from each other.” Joey informed Henry. “Right away there youngest started having nightmares each night. Terrible nightmares. She’d wake up the whole house with her screams. Once her mother awoke her she explained what she dreamed. The red man she called it.”

Henry stood there listening to joeys story of this place, feeling chills run down his back.

Joey continued. “At first her parents thought it was just nightmares. But as time went on so did the hell. She still had daily nightmares. But within a month the two oldest started acting strange. The middle child started sleep walking and her parents found her in the strangest of places. There son however started drawing this man in red in his drawings. There parents decide to call a Priest to come perform an exorcism on the house. He did but they quickly found out it didn’t work. After another two weeks the mother saw someone standing out of there window in the middle of the night and freaked out. Only odd thing was that there room was on the Second story. They got the kids right after the husband calmed his wife down and left the house. Never stepping in it again.

“Wow..” Henry replied. “Do you believe that really happen here?”

It wasn’t Joey that Answered Henry’s question it was the creek above them that made them both look at the Ceiling. Henry looked back down at Joey. “ Maybe that an animal...?”

Joey shook his head. “No way. That was to heavy for an animal. It was human sized sounded.”

“Well...maybe there be a homeless person walking around?..” Henry ask.

“Maybe. Wanna go check it out?” Joey ask.

Henry nodded and followed Joey to the stairs. “Remember rule one Henry. Be careful of where you step.” Joey reminded him.

Joey took the first step and as he got farther up the stairs he was making sure the floor was going to hold them before putting his full Weight on the step. Henry copied him, making sure the floor would hold him.

They got to the top of the stairs without an incident. The two shinning there flashes in a directions there choose and there eyes followed. It was a sitting area here before a short hallway off four rooms. Two on each side.

Joey slowly moved forward to the first sit of rooms, Henry following beside him now. Joey reached for the handle of the right door, and opened it. It was definitely the sons room. The bed unmanned, his science homework was still on his desk waiting to be finish, a hockey stick besides his bed. Shelves full of sport trophies

Covered in dust and forgotten. “ All those memories had to be left behind...” Henry mention sadly.

“Yea. It’s pretty sad..” Joey closed the door and moved on to the left door, opening that one. This room was obviously the middle child and she loved reading. There were books on her sleeves from Fantasy to poems. On her desk was what most been English homework. It was still open and on one of the pages it was highlighted lastly half way down the page. There was taps on pages before the one that was left. there was also posters of movie that were based on books. Like hunger games and Harry Potter.

Joey closes that door next and went to the other two doors a few feet away. Joey open the door to his right. It was only a dirty old bathroom. This time Henry opened the last door to the little girls room. Dolls. Old creepy dolls that stared at you, watching you. They both didn’t like them and felt them watching.

Before they could do anything they herd another creaking footstep but this it was right behind them! The two looked behind them and screamed. A man red burning skin was grinning down at them. Some would be certain it was a demon. But there minds weren’t thinking clearly. All they thought was run. And they did.

Both of them ran tours the stairs but nether of them never made it. The ground opened up below them and they fail and fail though the first floor into the secret basement. when they landed hard on ground both of joeys legs got smash with a heavy broad. With Henry gotten a pipe stuck into his chest.

“Ahh!! Fuck!” Joey cusses from the pain and shock. He looked over at his friend and immediately knew he didn’t have much time. “F-fuck. Henry! I’m s-so sorry!” Tears ran down his face.

Henry couldn’t even talk. Only blood sprayed out of his mouth and rushed out of his wound. On his last moment he saw the demon watching them from the hole above. Then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his head collapsed onto the ground. His hands slowly slid to the floor.

Joey knew he was gone and cried harder. “No!!” He yelled. “NO NO NOOOO!!!” He would be responsible for this if he got out and most likely go to prison. Why had this happened! He was only supposed to take him out on a date of fun exploring. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

But he realized something horrible. No one knew where they had gone. No one knew they’d come here and now he’s trapped down here in the basement. No one would no to come look here!

All night long and all day he called and called for help hoping someone would be walking by. He knew the demon was watching him but he hasn’t tried anything else. It took days before Joey died of dehydration. No one ever came by or looked around for them.

But once he finally died he could see Henry’s spirt. And not only his but the spirts of the miler family. He was wrong. They never escaped. They all died here and was trapped here forever. Just like him now.

Hilarie Burton Morgan On Home Beyond Hollywood And Working Beside Her Husband On ‘The Walking Dead’

FilmMagic

From her standout performances on beloved television series to a recent bestselling memoir, Hilarie Burton Morgan continues to take us along on her journey called life. Beginning her career as a MTV VJ in 2000 to regularly lighting up the small screen ever since, the 38-year-old actress and author wears multiple hats these days, with an even more important title of mother & wife leading her charge. Now with several exciting projects on the horizon, including her long-anticipated introduction into the expanding world of The Walking Dead beside her husband Jeffrey Dean Morgan , Hilarie is no doubt maintaining a lasting impression.

To truly appreciate her on-screen chemistry with Jeffrey, it would be helpful to know how they first connected off-screen. “I knew right away,” Hilarie tells Forbes about how soon she knew Jeffrey was the person for her, while sharing the story of how they met. “My very dear friend Danneel Ackles is married to Jensen Ackles and I would stay at their house every time I would go out to LA. When I was 26, I went to stay at their house and I think they got sick of me dating drifters. So Jensen was like ‘I’m going to introduce you to someone that I want to hang out with’ and he introduced me to Jeffrey, who had played his dad on Supernatural . It was pretty from the jump. He started sending me packages right away of books and love letters and he laid it on nice and thick and it worked! Here we are 12 years later.”

AFP via Getty Images

Easter Sunday on AMC, The Walking Dead will reveal to viewers the backstory of Jeffrey’s character Negan and his ailing wife Lucille, played by Hilarie. Even though this important “Here’s Negan” season finale episode will be the first time you will actually see Lucille in action, Hilarie points out that her character has played an integral part on the hit series for some time now. “The mythology of Lucille has been around as long as Negan has been around,” Hilarie explains. “When it was introduced that he had a baseball bat that he used to kill people named Lucille, obviously there were questions surrounding who that was named after and he has been pretty forthcoming throughout the series that his dead wife was the inspiration for the name and he has talked a number of times about her cancer diagnosis, about her death, about what that loss meant to him. While Negan and my husband have been vilified over the last five or so years, to me what Lucille is, is a real glimpse into who Negan was pre-apocalypse and the man that she wanted him to be.”

Hilarie says being a real-life married couple portraying a married couple on television was an experience they really enjoyed together. “It was really wonderful. We have a really similar energy on-set. Neither one of us takes ourselves very seriously. We like joking around.” Hilarie also hopes that fans will better understand the violent ways of Negan after they get to see the love and heartbreak that he came from. “If there was ever a time for people to understand Negan’s aggression or his way of doing things, I feel like the entire world has been prepped for that over the last year. So Lucille comes in as the person who loves him the most and loves him even with his flaws. Perhaps the audience if they don’t already love him, which they should, perhaps they can follow Lucille’s example and love him through the tough stuff.”

Josh Stringer/AMC

In reality, Hilarie’s life with Jeffrey and their two kids is far less dramatic. When their son was in preschool, the couple decided to set roots as a growing family in Upstate New York and ultimately build their home on a farm. “We rescue animals and we got tons of chickens and ducks and cows and llamas and an emu and a donkey that are in love. We have got a really large vegetable garden that we definitely expanded on during quarantine and our son just turned eleven and our daughter is three and they are fully onboard with getting involved in there.”

Following the unexpected death of their local family friend Ira Gutner, Hilarie and Jeffrey decided to become co-owners of Samuel’s Sweet Shop to keep Ira’s storefront from closing, with the help of a handful of nearby friends, including another familiar face, actor Paul Rudd. “It has been such a wonderful experience for our kids because they all know what their first job is going to be,” Hilarie adds. “It has been fun for our community because we have been able to use it as the trophy case for all our food artists in town. During quarantine, when you can’t celebrate with the people you love, we hired all new people and created a new space to do gift baskets. It was so wonderful that our community and people from all over the country were supporting a small business, because we know what lockdown did to those this year.”

AMC

Last May, in the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, Hilarie published her memoir The Rural Diaries: Love, Livestock and Big Life Lessons Down on Mischief Farm . In the book, which she says is meant to be a love letter to her husband, her community and her children, Hilarie very openly discusses the miscarriages she endured and says she did not expect so many people to connect with her story over the past year. “This has been a book that people have gifted their friends or their loved ones during a really difficult time. For me, the responsibility of being a voice for people who have felt like they needed to keep miscarriages or infertility a secret, I’m very serious about it. I never want to cheapen that for anyone because I know how terrible it is to fall asleep at night devastated.” Hilarie is currently writing a second book, which she hopes to have done by next year.

Even as new projects continue to pop up for Hilarie, her nostalgic fan-favorite projects from yesteryear also seem to have the possibility of returning in some capacity. When discussing her role as Sara Ellis on the stylish con artist series White Collar and her commitment to finding a way to work with that cast family again through a revival series or simply together on a new project, Hilarie says, “We’re going to get the band back together, hell or high water. We love each other.”

Hilarie’s six seasons starring as Peyton Sawyer on the hit drama series One Tree Hill has led to her having a substantially large and vocal fanbase for nearly two decades now . “Peyton was the Negan of One Tree Hill because there are people who really hated her and then there were people who really loved how messy she was. Those are the characters that I have always been drawn to, which is probably why I am so defensive of my husband’s character. I love Peyton Sawyer. I put so much of my real self into that character and really fought for her a lot behind the scenes.” When reflecting on the longevity of this series that ran from 2003-2012, Hilarie has noticed the loyal One Tree Hill fan community growing larger and larger as time goes on, as younger generations are now experiencing the series for the very first time through the in-demand world of video streaming. “It’s going to be weird when my son or my daughter comes of age and has to reckon with all the dumb stuff their mother did in her early twenties because it’s there forever,” Hilarie jokes.

FilmMagic

When referencing her One Tree Hill co-stars, which include Sophia Bush, Bethany Joy Lenz, James Lafferty and Chad Michael Murray, Hilarie says, “Those are going to be the people that I’m close with forever. Those are the people who were with me when I was most unsure about myself and we’ve all seen each other fall in love and break up and been through it. All of those life experiences matter, now that we are almost twenty years later and we’ll love each other forever. We’re always scheming on how to continue to work together.” When hoping Hilarie will elaborate further with any hints for fans, she responds, “I will say that the girls in particular are very, very close. We went through a lot together on that show and we evolved together on that show and so we may have some things in the works that we will be excited to promote later this summer.”

As Hilarie strives to make time for her new and revisited projects, she is consistently striving to make her family’s schedules work as one. “We definitely take turns. Jeffrey’s Walking Dead schedule is obviously the thing that takes precedent. So if I can maintain my side hustles around that (laughs) . The kids’ school year is a big deal for us and what has been really lovely is that in the time we have lived in the Hudson Valley, the film community there has really blossomed. Everything is about making it work for the family and I think once you have that as your center point, it makes every other decision that rolls around it very easy.”

Hilarie wrapped up our conversation thinking about other women in the world right now that have to juggle many responsibilities at once during this life-altering era of the pandemic. “For me, the struggle is always between being a good mom and working and quarantine pulled so many women out of the workforce. When I see those numbers of the amount of women that had to leave work to be able to take care of their children because schools were closed and because we didn’t know what this virus was going to do, that’s heartbreaking. Being able to be a working mother from home and take my kids to school and take them to dance class and write my book and produce movies is something I don’t take for granted at all. I want a shine a light on all the women who are doing it. Homeschool and working and cooking dinner and cleaning the house and just all of it. You’re never good enough. So for the women who out there trying their absolute best, I just want you to know you’re good enough and you’ve kicked ass and your kids are going to be great and they saw how much you cared and how hard you worked and that’s important.”

Dnd Circus Campaign session two recap:

spotty the rainbow dalmation blink dog from the circus follows theren (the circus runaway) home b/c the animal caretaker is dead and spotty only feels safe with theren. spotty has theren follow him back to seesaw the fortune teller’s tent where seesaw tenderly cups his face before giving him the fortune “what you seek is also seeking you. to find your answers, first find the anarchist and the living trophy”. he goes home with spotty and successfully lies to his gnome parents that this is not the same dog from the circus even though it looks pretty identical.

the next day:

theren spends the morning with his family and spotty. his mom and dad tell him theyre going to go to work soon building the new coal factory. he plays with spotty in the backyard after they leave.

the mayor is meeting with Thorne the ringmaster again later today before the next circus performance to discuss the future of the circus in humdrum heights. he has a meeting with coal benefactors after the circus and he wants tallulah the trophy wife to be there with him.

tallulah the trophy wife wakes up early and goes to starbucks where sinclar the anarchist works. a funny passive aggressive interaction b/w the two ensues. sinclair has a history of intentionally getting tallulah’s order wrong. tallulah brings in her own metal starbucks cup b/c sinclair kept intentionally giving her a size smaller than she asked for. tallulah briefly sarcastically thanks sinclair for literally leaving her hanging last night (when tallulah got caught in the ringmaster’s snare and was hanging upside down and sinclair didn’t help).

tallulah goes to get another fortune from seesaw even though seesaw told her she only gets one. seesaw tells her “remember:” and taps her nose four times and her right cheek once.

theren the circus runaway tentatively walks the outskirts of the circus grounds to investigate further (by this point he is silently certain this is the circus he grew up in). he finds a copper dragon in a circus carriage cage that wasnt apart of raffles the beast tamer’s act. it’s friendly and looks like it hasnt been let out for awhile. theren goes to the local bar and buys two steaks and gives that to the copper dragon.

the circus performs again. there is a crowd of kids wearing clown noses to this performance who sit in the front. theyve been wearing the clown noses all day. the performance is relatively the same. except for two differences: the blink dog doesn’t appear in raffles the beast tamer’s act. and la capony the king of clowns asks the mayor to join him in his act. the mayor was sitting with his wife tallulah and has been wearing a clown nose since earlier in the day when he met with thorne. he isn’t apprehensive about volunteering like he was last night and he joins la capony. la capony does some stuff and then makes the mayor disappear. the mayor does not reappear and the performance ends.

tallulah is immediately suspicious and worried and messages him. he responds “i don’t know where i am! tallulah, honey, i don’t know where i am!” tallulah searches all around for him but the player kept rolling comically low investigation rolls so she wasn’t able to find anything.

tallulah realizes she and her husband are late for the coal meeting and she calls the inept bro-y receptionist to try to tell him to tell them theyre going to be late and to call her if they leave.

finally, sinclair reluctantly tries to help but tallulah asks her why she’s here and sinclair says she’s here to help. sinclair helps investigate and she rolls well enough to lead them to the old train tunnel. she waits outside the tunnel and warns tallulah not to go in b/c people have died in there, it’s a dangerous tunnel. tallulah says she’s going to go in b/c her husband’s in there.

sinclair takes one step in and the stones curving along the entrance of the tunnel start to glow a firey orange with old magical runes. she steps backwards and doesnt go in. tallulah sees this and asks why that didn’t happen when she stepped in and sinclar says i don’t know why.

tallulah runs into the old train tunnel and finds la capony standing over the mayor who has been tied to the train tracks. la capony is yelling at him asking him what he did with his son’s body and accusing him of killing his son. the mayor is denying it all. tallulah saves him and convinces la capony the mayor had nothing to do with his son’s death (she knows this b/c she investigated the body last night). she says she thinks the ringmaster knows something. la capony leaves to go confront the ringmaster.

tallulah takes a picture inside the cave with her magical film camera to see if any magic is picked up.

sinclair confronts the mayor when he and tallulah exit the tunnel asking why he doesn’t seem to be looking into the death of la capony’s son. while briskly walking away from sinclair (and her keeping up) he says going public about a murder would scare everyone and wouldn’t look good for him as a mayor (as there hasn’t been a murder in this town for decades). sinclair doesn’t take that well and asks what he’s going to do about the murder. he says he’ll look into it but he has an important coal meeting to get to that he’s already late for. she says the murder is more important and he says this meeting has been penciled in for awhile now and the boy’s already dead isn’t he it can come later.

the mayor and tallulah miss the meeting and the coal benefactors have left. they say they’ll be waiting in town until they come across the mayor. the receptionist said “i told them ‘take it easy’ but they did not take it easy” (his whole thing is that he just says “take it easy” he’s a very bad receptionist).

tallulah develops the photo she took earlier and sees there are magical arcane train tracks going off the main normal train tracks in all kinds of wild directions. they look like they go into the walls of the tunnel.

before bed, the mayor tells tallulah he has some exciting news for tomorrow.

the next day:

the mayor, still wearing the clown nose, has a ceremony b/c it’s the day the town is meant to vote on what to change the town’s name to: coalton heights, coalgood heights, or a write-in. he says there will be no vote and the town will be renamed to thorne heights (after the ringmaster).

at this point, the players frantically looked back at all the graphics i made of the circus performers and noticed that all the performers are wearing clown noses except the ringmaster. tallulah tries to yank the clown nose off of her husband’s face, but his arm reflexively (like it’s moved of its own accord) grabs her wrist and she’s unable to take it off. she tries to cast charm person on him to see if he’s being controlled and learns he’s incapable of being charmed. she rolls a good enough insight that tells her for certain this means he’s incapable of being charmed because he is already being charmed. she sees all the kids in the crowd wearing clown noses and messages sinclair--the only person she can think to trust in this moment--that the clown noses are controlling everyone. and we ended the session there!

The Outliers - A Guildwars Love Story

This story is dedicated to my wife.

Chapter 1

So many of my comrades had perished at the paws of those savage beasts! He had mused to himself.   "Father, I'm here.  Are you okay?" The old man looked at his son with a somewhat surprised look then handed him the lantern.   "I'm fine.  It's nothin'.  Just help me get these fence posts back in their notches so we can tie 'em off."   Kaleb swung the lantern around searching for one of the fallen fence railings. Once he had located the post both he and his father worked in unison to get them reset. "Have you checked to see if Gerty decided to make a bolt for it?"  Kaleb asked.   His father laughed. "That ole' girl wouldn't move if she were being attacked by an army of ettins.  She's right where she's always been... face firmly planted in the feeding trough." In spite of the misery of the cold rain, both father and son managed to mend the damaged fence well before sunrise.  After their tasked had been completed, they promptly headed towards the back kitchen door. "Not one step further you two." Shirley Grimwald, or "Mamma" Shirley as her husband liked to call her, raised her hand in a gesture for both men to stop.  She pointed towards the floor as a signal to remind them to take off their wet boots and parkas before entering the house.   "Yes ma'am.  I guess the rain chased me in and I lost my head for a bit," the elder Grimwald chuckled.   "It's okay, dear. The next time, I'll chase you out sans overcoat and muddy boots." She smiled in return.

"Once the two of you are dried - I left some fresh towels at the edge of the table right next to the door - you can have some hot coffee and cakes." Mamma Grimwald was slight in build but strong in her faith.  As a devoted follower of the Six, she piously offered prayers whenever a situation demanded them.  With the serving of food came the traditional supplication to their god, Dwayna, for blessings upon their family.   Kaleb tried his best to dry out the locks of his dark shoulder-length hair.  But even with his judicious efforts, his head still looked like a frazzled soppy wet mess.  The chair he sat on felt small and rickety under the weight of his broad, six-foot, four-inch frame.  Being mindful of the damp towel, he discreetly folded it into a compact square then placed it upon his lap.  

"Thank you, boys, for fixing that fence.  It seems every time there's a puff of wind, that thing keeps getting blown down," Shirley said as she poured both men some coffee.   "Are the girls still asleep?  That thunder makes enough racket to wake the dead." Kaleb looked at his father and said with a laugh.  "C'mon, father.  Katie can sleep through a volcano eruption.  And Rachel is probably hiding under the pillow crying like a newborn with her butt stuck in the air." "Liar!" Came a shout from the other side of the door adjoining the kitchen and hallway.  Rachel leaned out from the door frame just enough so her green eyes and auburn hair was visible.

"And miss snoop gets foiled again.  Yer way too predictable, sis.  Now go to bed!" "Why should I?  I can't even sleep and Katie snores like a cave troll." "If the big bad thunderstorm is too much for you, then you can always sleep in my closet." "Oh, just shut up Kal!   I hope you catch pneumonia and die so then I can have the best room in the house." "Rachel Grimwald!  I will hear no further talk like that from you young lady. Since you can't seem sleep during foul weather or be nice to anyone... I guess you'll just have to sleep in our room... on the floor!" Rachel said nothing as Kaleb gave her a wide-eared grin. "Fine! I'm going back to bed... in my room!" Rachel said as she stomped off making every attempt to make her footsteps as loud as possible. Kaleb then turned to his parents and commented.  "Yanno.  I would sure feel sorry for the unlucky soul who has dubious honor of wanting to marry her."

"She's just going through that phase, son.  Girls eventually get over it and blossom into beautiful women," Daniel said while taking an extra sip of his coffee. "Speaking of marriage.  How are things going between you and Trish?  You haven't talked about her much for awhile."  Mrs. Grimwald asked her son.   Kaleb averted his gaze for a moment before responding.  "She's been really busy trying to earn some brownie points with the nobles and such.  We really don't get to see each other that much anymore." "She would make a fine wife for you, son.  I know her family is well connected.  Shoot, if you ever had to serve on a battlefront, I'm sure her folks would find a way of having you stationed in a place that far from any fighting," his mother said with a smile. "Shirley.  That's not how the Seraph operates.  Only the spoiled rich brats get to serve far from the front lines.  Us common folks, on the other hand, aren't as lucky."   The elder Grimwald then looked at his son and asked, "speaking of the Seraph, when are you supposed to report for duty?" "I'm to report in within three days.  According to my commanding officer, I am to be stationed not too far from Claypool." Father Grimwald poured himself another cup of coffee then began arranging the pieces of silverware in a triangle pattern.  

"So, after your stint in the army, what are your plans then?" Kaleb knew where the conversation was going.  "Honestly, I'm not really sure.  Maybe I'll go to Divinity's Reach and join the carnival.  I heard they are always having openings.  I think part of that comes from the fact that some of the performers wind up getting eaten by the ferocious animals they train." "You're like the pot that keeps callin' the kettle black, son.  You are much worse than your sister as far as that smart mouth of yers goes and if I were a woman I would have smacked ya upside the head, silly," Daniel said tersely.   "Then I guess I'm lucky in that there's no woman who's got a witty mouth quite like mine.  Not that I'm thinking too highly of myself or anything, mind you... just stating the obvious, that's all."

His father stood up from the kitchen table then spoke to Kaleb in a passive-aggressive tone.  "Well, sooner or later you will have to face the facts.  As the elder son of this family, the burden will fall to you when the time comes to take over the business.  If I had my way, I would rather you remain here than be sent off to fight in some godsforsaken far off piece of Tyria." "Hey. I'm not keen on dying either, father.  But since the treaty, Kryta is no longer under threat and even your outfit, the Ebonguard, has had to pull back from charr-held lands.  And who knows?  If I'm lucky, I may even get into the hobby of mounting centaur heads in my trophy room,"  Kaleb said with a half-smile. His mother also rose up from the table to give her son a hug.  "Well, I for one am proud that you are serving in the queen's army.  Your father had a distinguished career as a soldier and I have no doubt that you will as well.  Of course I'll be worried sick about you, but at least you are making yourself part of a noble cause." "Ha! Mamma, there's one skill you've taught me that I can utilize while being a soldier - and that is being an excellent cook.  After all, an army moves on its stomach and whenever I'm around I'll make sure my comrades enjoy feasts that are worthy of norn legends." Daniel shook his head.  "War is nothing to get excited over.  Anyway, do you honestly believe this treaty will even hold?  The ink is not even dry yet and our people are already fighting along side those brutes."   "It doesn't matter.  Besides, the chances of me encountering a charr are about as likely as someone being killed by a ghost," Kaleb quipped as he helped his parents clean off the table.  "Speaking of non-human peoples... I still gotta say my farewells to Ulfgar.  That old norn would never let me hear the end of it if I just up and left without saying goodbye." "Dodging the question again, son?  No matter.  Sooner or later you will have to come to a decision on whether or not you want to take over the family business.  I'm getting too old to be lifting things I shouldn't be lifting and managing things I should no longer be managing; at some point that responsibility will have to fall upon someone else.  Namely, my son." His father angled his reply just as he started heading towards the hallway.  

"Love ya, father.  Try not to let the coffee keep you and ma up too long."

Shirley gave her son another hug before heading out of the kitchen and to her bedroom.  As she passed her husband, his father turned back towards Kaleb and commented.  "No worries, son.  Coffee is more like a sedative to me anymore."

"Oh. And one other thing..." Kaleb looked up waiting for his father to finish his response. "I have seen people killed by ghosts back when I fought in Ascalon."

Who’s Afraid of  Virginia Woolf (1966); AFI #67

The next film on the AFI 100 is the award winning titan, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966). It is a movie version of the play of the same name. The play was written by Edward Albee and only two lines were changed from the film to the movie (when a couple first enters the house). The play won 5 Tony awards so it was already established as a popular story, so it was not surprising that the film was nominated for every single category at the 1967 Academy Awards. The film and cast took home 5 Oscars from 13 nominations with wins for Best Leading Actress, Best Supporting Actress, Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, and Best Costume Design. This was considered an Oscar-worthy performance on screen for all four actors in the film although neither of the male actors won in their category. The film would have garnered more awards from the Academy, however a fantastic British film, A Man For All Seasons, came out that year and took many of the trophies.  I want to go over the plot before discussing any more aspects of the film so...

SUPER SPOILER WARNING!!!! THERE ARE MANY DRAMATIC TWISTS SO I AM LEGITIMATELY SPOILING THE FILM!!! DON’T READ FURTHER IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN WATCHING THE FILM FOR THE FIRST TIME! 

This is the story of a middle-aged married couple that have apparently fallen out of love (if they ever were), yet there is something that keeps them together. The wife is Martha (Elizabeth Taylor) and is the daughter of a university president. George (Richard Burton) is the husband and he is an associate professor at that same university. They live on or near campus and have attended a party in which they both got quite drink and Martha has invited a new young biology professor and his wife to come over for drinks despite it being very late already. The guests are Nick (George Segal) , a good looking man in his late 20s, and his younger wife Honey (Sandy Dennis) who is a slim blonde and rather meek. . 

There is extremely awkward conversation in which George and Martha are constantly insulting each other and attempting to pull the young couple towards a side. After many drinks, Honey and Martha go off to the bathroom and, upon their return, Honey reveals that Martha has told her about her and George's son, adding that she understands that the following day (Sunday) will mark his sixteenth birthday. George is visibly angry that Martha has divulged this information but it is not revealed why. This seems to be a sore subject since, when Nick asked George if the couple had any children, George had said, “That is for me to know and you to find out.”

Martha taunts George aggressively and he retaliates with a passive aggression that appears to the normal. Martha tells an embarrassing story about how she humiliated him in front of her father. Martha's taunts continue, and George reacts violently by breaking a bottle. Nick and Honey become increasingly unsettled, and Honey, who has had too much brandy, runs to the bathroom to vomit. A note at this point is that all four people are massively drunk and practically falling over at every step and constantly forgetting what a person said or repeating themselves for no real reason. 

Martha goes to the kitchen to make coffee, and George and Nick go outside and sit on a swing. Nick confesses that he was attracted to Honey more for her family's money than passion. In what was supposed to be a secret, Nick reveals that Honey had an “hysterical pregnancy” and he had married her out of obligation. George describes his own marriage as one of never-ending accommodation and adjustment, then admits he considers Nick a threat. George also tells a story about a boy he grew up with who had accidentally killed his mother and years later, his father, and ended up living out his days in a mental hospital. Nick admits he aims to charm and sleep his way to the top, and jokes that Martha would be a good place to start. 

This statement sees George become more attacking and Nick decides that it is time to leave. George insists on driving them home, despite his inebriated state, and Martha comes with. Honey is completely drunk but decides she wants to dance when they approach a roadhouse. While Honey and George watch, Nick suggestively dances with Martha, who continues to mock and criticize George. George unplugs the jukebox and announces the game is over. In response, Martha alludes to the fact he may have murdered his parents like the protagonist in his unpublished, non-fiction novel, prompting George to attack Martha until Nick pulls him away from her. George tells the group about a second novel he allegedly has written about a young couple from the Midwest, a good-looking teacher and his timid wife, who marry because of her hysterical pregnancy and money, then settle in a small college town. An embarrassed Honey realizes Nick indiscreetly told George about their past and runs from the room. Nick promises revenge on George, and then runs after Honey.

In the parking lot, George tells his wife he cannot stand the way she constantly humiliates him. She tauntingly accuses him of having married her for just that reason. Their rage erupts into a declaration of "total war". Martha drives off, retrieving Nick and Honey, leaving George to make his way back home on foot. When he arrives home, he discovers the car crashed on the drive and Honey half conscious on the back seat and sees Martha and Nick together through the bedroom window. Through Honey's drunken babbling, George begins to suspect that her pregnancy was in fact real, and that she secretly had an abortion. George has been locked out through the chain lock and he has to kick in the door which hits the clock and strikes the bells. This makes him begin to speak of a call that informed George and Martha of the death of their son.

Martha accuses Nick of being sexually inadequate and he blames his lack of performance on all the liquor he has consumed. George then appears holding snapdragons, which he throws at Martha and Nick in another game.  He mentions his and Martha's son, prompting her to reminisce about his birth and childhood and how he was nearly destroyed by his father. George accuses Martha of engaging in destructive and abusive behavior with the boy, who frequently ran away to escape her attention. George then announces he has received a telegram with bad news—their son has been killed in a car accident.

As Martha begs George not to "kill" their son, Nick suddenly realizes the truth: Martha and George had never been able to have children and filled the void with an imaginary son. By declaring their son dead, accordingly, George has "killed" him. George explains that their one mutually rule was to never mention the "existence" of their son to anyone else, and that he "killed" him because Martha broke that rule by mentioning him to Honey.

The young couple departs quietly, and George and Martha are left alone as the day begins to break outside. George starts singing the song "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?", and Martha responds, "I am, George, I am."

The cinematography is amazing for a black and white film. The framing of the characters to enhance the interactions as well as the use of close ups to imply that a character is becoming intensely emotional is pretty incredible. The use of camera angles, blocking, and shadows is at the level of Citizen Kane. This is a good looking group of actors and a pretty good job was done to make them look very ugly through their actions. The tension and the desperation is palpable throughout the movie and it really feels like surviving the most horrific invitation for drinks ever.

And here is where I have to be honest and say I cannot stand this particular film. The acting, production, and story are so realistic that I feel that I survived the ordeal each time I watch it. I am very introverted and the idea of going through this kind of social ordeal with awkward fighting, drunken babbling, and loud angry declarations is a nightmare for me. Pausing this film and stepping away many times is essential to my sanity. I was contemplating a Xanax before watching because the movie raises my anxiety level so much. I guess it is a nod to the quality of the film that it elicits such an emotion out of me. I agree with Nick when he says “Do we really have to go through all this?” A New York Times reviewer at the time called it a “highly watchable” drama that sucks in the audience, but I cannot disagree more. It is downright painful. 

The realism comes from the real relationship between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. I watched an interview of the couple in 1970 and there was that same awkwardness of a couple that is pretending to like each other. The only difference is that movie allowed the two to truly yell at each other through the lines of dialogue. It feels like they were really yelling at each other because, on some level, it was an outlet for their own relationship. 

So should this film be on the AFI list? Absolutely. It is a high point of acting with incredible production. It is a high point of drama storytelling from one of the great contemporary American writers. Albee’s story won accolades when presented on the stage and on the screen (it was even voted to win a Pulitzer Prize for Drama but had the award rescinded because of the controversial language and topic). It is obvious that, at the time, Americans were interested in uncovering the secret lives of intellectuals and seeing the dirty fighting and caddy bickering underneath manicured exteriors. Would I recommend the movie? Absolutely not. I hate this film and can’t stand watching it. I think it is an ordeal to go through and may be good for somebody who is interested in seeing a film where people get drunk, do horrible things, and completely disrespect each other. I am not that person, though, so it is definitely not for me. 

Maybe, I Love You

INVOLVED: Savannah Ward and Journee Ashton TIME FRAME: Wednesday, June 12, 2019 LOCATION: Journee’s Condo; Atlanta, Georgia SUMMARY: After the incident with Journee being jealous and protective of Savannah when it came to Cairo, the two have a conversation and end up confession their true feelings for one another.

Savannah bit her lip softly as she stood outside of Journee’s door holding a bouquet of Iris flowers in her hand. Rubbing her freehand through her loose curls, she let out a breath as she gently knocked on the door.

Cleaning, that is what she had begin subjecting herself to. Cleaning the condo from top to bottom even though it stayed immaculate anyhow. She didn’t know what else to do, because her flight response always told her to drop drama and flee to the next warm bed. However she didn’t want to do that to Savannah, one thing she did know that she might do was perform this Friday and definitely take the club up on their offer of traveling for shows with them this summer. It would give her time to think, be away, and analyze this all for herself. Savannah brought out a side of her that no one ever saw, at first she was jealous of eyes and touches when it came to her husband, but some time in she didn’t give a damn. She stood there like the trophy she was meant to be and she turned a blind eye all while embracing the looks others gave her. Sighing to herself, she placed the broom and dustpan back having swept the entire place she felt. Journee plopped down on her couch tiredly, she looked to the puppies as they scurried for the door barking loudly, and she raised a brow. “Shh” she said as she got up moving behind them slowly, she looked through the peephole just to make sure when she actually saw Savannah, she sighed softly before she unlocked the door and opened it, resting against its fame. “Hey” she said.

Savannah heard the small dogs barking and she bit the inside of her cheek, knowing that Journee would be right behind them at the door, and she was. As the door slowly opened, Savannah smiled a soft smile at Journee, offering her the flowers. “Hi,” she said in almost a whisper as she took a small step forward, inching closer. Gazing at Journee, Savannah pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it gently. “I just…” she trailed off, shaking her head some, “well…” she sighed out, dropping her head some as she ran her fingers through her hair. Slowly she looked back up at Journee with a sheepish smile, her shoulders shrugging a little, “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” she admitted.

Journee looked to the flowers, they were beautiful and not to mention they were blue, which happened to be her favorite color. She accepted them with a faint smile on her lips before she dropped her eyes. At Savannah’s words the girl watched the dogs as they scurried around her feet playfully. “I’m not mad” she corrected her truthfully, because she actually wasn’t. She was indifferent actually, simply having zero energy to indulge in the situation any further. “I’m over it now” she shrugged before she said “thanks for the flowers” to Savannah.  

Savannah gnawed on her lip even more as Journee spoke and she nodded slowly, staring down at the dogs as well. “You’re welcome,” she said in a whisper as she inched forward once more, placing a gentle hand on Journee’s hip. “May I come in?” she asked.

“Sure,” Journee said as she stepped aside moving out of the way so that Savannah could come into her home. She pushed the dogs aside with her bare feet, as she closed the door behind them.

Savannah slowly stepped into the apartment, looking down at the dogs thoughtfully. “What are their names?” She asked gently as she moved through the place slowly, not wanting to just sit down anywhere.

“Bubbles and Peaches,” Journee replied as she moved towards the kitchen, resting the flowers on the counter. “Would you like anything?” she asked her politely.

Savannah nodded slowly. “Who is who?” She asked curiously as she followed Journee into the kitchen. At the question, Savannah shook her head. “No thank you,” she answered before she asked. “So, are we dating?” She asked curiously, thinking about Journee’s behavior.

“Bubbles is the brown one,” Journee cooed as she hoisted both up on her arms. They were to two babies, honestly just months apart, she got them. It was a coping mechanism for her loneliness and they actually helped. “And this is Peaches” she said allowing the dog to lick her chin playfully, as she shifted the tan slightly. “Huh?” Journee said brows stitching together quickly as she gazed at Savannah.

Savannah smiled softly as Journee picked up the dogs and explained which was which and she reached out gently to pet Bubbles. As Journee gazed at her confused, she continued to pet the dog, gently scratching behind its ears. “What are we exactly?” she asked just trying to understand. Journee claimed that things were moving too fast and they were just having fun, but her actions spoke differently.

Journee sat the puppies back down, allowing them to roam, check Savannah our, and play. She looked to the girl before she shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t have a clue, why do you ask?” she said to her as she reached up into her cabinets grabbing a wine glass before she cracked open a bottle that she pulled from her fridge, filling her glass.

Savannah bent at the knee as Journee at the dogs down and she continued to pet Bubbles, smiling softly at Peaches as the puppy roamed her curiously. Looking up at Journee from her kneeling position, she bit her lip. “Well…” she sighed out as she stood, “I’m honestly just trying to figure it out,” she admitted. “Journee I like you, a lot, but I try to hold back because I don’t want to scare you off. Especially after what Bailey did,” she said as she moved to lean against the counter. “You said we’re just ‘having fun’ but… you’re actions and your response to certain things don’t add up to that…” she said in a gentle tone. “I just… I want to know what we’re doing and where were headed…” she sighed.

Journee took a big gulp from the glass nodding her head, trying to be understanding. There goes those words again “having fun” she repeated as she rolled her eyes to herself as she opened the fridge. She didn’t have anything else strong enough to suffice, so she closed it. “I hear you” she said simply as she as she moved back to the glass filing her mouth with the liquid before she swallowed it down in another huge gulp. “I like you too Savannah, I told you that” she said “I am just processing all of this…” she said angrily, she was bitter. Because she rather be alone but she knew Savannah wouldn’t let that happen, and here they were. In a cycle of which Journee hated because she could live with sex, without strings tied. She could not live with love. Or, otherwise she wouldn't allow herself to.

Savannah rested against the counter, trying to get Journee to just open up and communicate with her. She always felt that communication was the key to any relationship and it was becoming clear to her that Journee wasn’t big on it or maybe simply, she wasn’t good at it. Hearing the irritation in Journee’s voice, Savannah looked away from her. Was she really that unbearable? Sighing out, Savannah stared down at the puppies on the floor. “Okay…” she said quietly as she shrugged her shoulders. What was there to process? She didn’t know. But she felt that if she asked, Journee would chew her head off. So instead she stayed silent, staring at the puppies with an unreadable expression.

Journee finished off the glass before she sat it aside “you know what it’s not okay Savannah, it isn’t” she told her filling her glass up again. “I wasn’t looking for love and here you come walking in” she said frustratedly. “I was fine on my own, me and my two damn dogs” she said lifting two fingers up at her. “I don’t like to be overly indulge, I like moderation” she told her. “I snore when I sleep!” she stressed “and I will sit on the toilet for an hour scrolling instagram at two in the morning for no reason” she ranted. “I love my space, but I don’t like being pushed away” she growled. “I have a jealous streak!” she finally said looking to her. “I don’t like to fucking share” she breathed. “I am insensitive even when I am not trying to be, I am nonchalant, aggressive when I want to be, fragile in other instances” she sighed as she drank down more wine. “I am terrified of love” she told her “I don’t want to hurt someone or be hurt” she swallowed hard. “I don’t want to burden people, I don’t want people to burden me. I love my freedom. I love dancing and walking around naked, I love being fucked on a regular. As a matter of fact I love sex, I want sex all the time. I maybe even addicted” she said, more so to herself than Savannah. “I like you Savannah, I just don’t know if I am good for you yet…..”

Savannah lifted her head slowly to look at Journee as she began to speak and she was taken back by her words. Love. Staring at Journee as she went through various motions of refilling and sipping from her glass she wondered, what the hell does you snoring have to do with anything? Biting her tongue, Savannah let Journee finish before she asked, “isn’t it about what I think though?” she whispered. “Aren’t I supposed to decide if you’re good enough for me? And if I thought you weren’t do you think I would be spending this much time with you?” she questioned. “Why would you ever think that you weren’t good enough?” she asked despite the fact that she thought it often of herself. “I’m not going to hurt you Journee… not purposefully,” she said gently. “Obviously there will be times when it’s unintentional, like with Cario, but I will always hear you our and take your feelings into consideration…” she said gently. “And… I don’t believe that you will hurt me… not intentionally… and if you do… it’s okay... “ she said with a soft chuckle, “... I will forgive you…” she said honestly, looking into Journee’s eyes now. “Besides… I know you snore,” she said laughing now, “I almost suffocated you one night because you got pretty loud…” she said snorting.

“You made love to me Savannah. I can’t recall the last time someone cared enough to do so….” was all Journee could muster, because it was a pivotal turning point for her. Her hand clutching the wine glass as she drank more of it down, a stray tear falling and she wiped it quickly cursing herself as she did, hoping Savannah didn’t see.

Savannah’s eyebrows furrowed at Journee’s statement and she was shocked. “What?” she said gently as she walked over to Journee, standing right beside her, hand resting on her back tenderly. “Y-yeah… I made love to you... “ she said gently. “We were… making love…” she said trying to understand what Journee meant as she watched Journee wipe the tear. Carefully Savannah took the glass from Journee’s hands and set it on the counter before she turned Journee to face her fully. “Look at me…” she said gently, her small hand caressing Journee’s cheek. “Just talk to me…”

Journee closed her eyes as Savannah caressed her cheek “I am falling for you and I am scared” she said plain and simple. “I don’t know why. I just am, no matter what you say or do” she told her. “All I really think about is you, you are the only person I want to spend time with, I care what you think and what you feel. Savannah! That’s not me!” she said opening her eyes finally.

Savannah stroked Journee’s cheek once more as she listened to her before she simply leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss. “Shut up,” Savannah whispered against Journee’s warm lips before she pulled away. “That is you... “ she said in a whisper as she took both of Journee’s hands into her own. “You’re just scared to embrace it,” she said tenderly as she gazed into Journee’s eyes, “but you don’t have to be scared because I’m right here…” she said sweetly as she kissed her lips again, “and I’m not going anywhere…” she said honestly, “and I’ll catch you when you fall… so that we can fall together,” she said in the barest of whispers before she captured Journee’s lips again, kissing her sweetly.

At her words she looked down, her eyes averted as Savannah pecked her lips and she subtly nodded her head at her. It was deeper than that, it was complicated, and so were Journee. She knew she was a handful and that she could be a bit of an ass, she was selfish and cocky. There was so much wrong she really didn’t understand off Savannah saw any right. Part of the reason why she kept to herself as much as she did.

Savannah kissed Journee’s lips sweetly once more. “Look at me,” she said again. “I’ll catch you,” she repeated herself, molding her body against Journee’s as she took both of her hands, lacing their fingers. “We can navigate this shit together, but I can’t put in 100% of myself if you’re only giving 25%.”

Journee looked up, she nodded her head again at the woman as she laced their hands and she sniffled softly. “I promise… I will try to open up more” she said quietly to Savannah.

Savannah nodded slowly, frowning a little as Journee sniffled and she chuckled gently. “Crying over little ol’ me?” she asked as she wrapped Journee up in her arms, holding her close, her tiny hand stroking her hair.

“Hush” Journee replied back to Savannah sniffling again before she released a small chuckle  hugging her back as the girl hugged her gently.

Giggling, Savannah held Journee tightly before she pulled back, kissing her lips once more. “You’re a wine-o,” she said as she pulled away from Journee, pointing to the wine on the counter.

“I am not” Journee said as she closed the bottle off and placed back in the fridge, what was left of it anyway. She took the glass pouring the rest down the sink, she had a slight issue but it was her business and no one else’s. Looking to Savannah again, she grabbed a towel to dry her face a bit and her eyes before she tossed it in the trash.

Savannah watched as Journee placed the bottle back and poured the remainder down the drain. Biting her lip gently, she gazed at Journee as she pulled herself together. “Do you want to meet Cairo?” she asked gently.

“I don’t want it to be awkward” she sighed as she placed her hands on the counter, “but I should be capable of meeting your friends with no problems” Journee added.

“Why would it be awkward?” Savannah asked curiously.

“Because I felt some type of way about the girl…” Journee said looking to her with a, duh, like expression.

Sighing out, Savannah looked to Journee. “You have nothing to worry about babe,” she told Journee sweetly.

“I know i was just saying” Journee to her with a soft sigh. “But sure, why not. I need to meet the people you love” she breathed.

Savannah smirked. “So are you willing to meet Alexandria as well?” She asked softly. “And no, she’s nothing like Bailey.”

“Of course baby” Journee said to her simply and she moved towards her asking. “So are we making this thing official?” she asked resting her head on Savannah’s shoulder and she wrapped her up.

When Journee called her baby, Savannah’s face turned bright red and she smiled bashfully as Journee wrapped her up. Her arms coiled around Journee’s thick frame and she grinned. “Like girlfriend and girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“Mhm” she hummed out nodding her head at the girl, Journee smiled hugging her closer to her body.

“Yes,” Savannah answered sweetly as she held Journee close, her hands slowly running down her back until she was holding Journee’s full ass in her tiny hands, giving it a teasing squeeze.

“Stop” she said chuckling lightly as the girl groped her ass “I am being serious right now” she said with a snicker. Journee pulled back a bit, pecking her lips lovingly as she looked down at her. “I-” she breathed “I love you Savannah” she breathed out butterflies stirring in her stomach.

Savannah giggled gently, holding Journee’s ass firmly in her small hands. “Okay, okay,” she said as her hands slowly moved back up to Journee’s back, holding her tightly. At Journee’s words, Savannah’s heart swelled in her chest and she gasped softly as she gazed into Journee’s eyes, searching. “I love you too,” Savannah whispered as tears welled in her eyes.

“You love little ‘ole me?” Journee teased softly as she leaned down to peck the woman’s lips again, a second, and then third time before she crashed her lips into hers closing her eyes as she took her in happily.

A tear of joy rolled down Savannah’s cheek as she nodded to answer Journee’s question, a giggle escaping her. “I do,” she admitted against Journee’s lips. “Mm,” she moaned softly, hugging her close as she could.  

Best New Flyfishing Gear for 2019

Each July, the International Fly Tackle Dealer (IFTD) show is held in Orlando, Fla., in conjunction with ICAST, and it’s there that companies unveil the latest flyfishing gear—from rods and reels to poppers and packs. This year yielded a bumper crop in terms of excellent new releases, with major product introductions from companies large and small. Here are 19 of my favorites. Some of the products are available now, while you’ll have to wait until the fall and spring for others.

Orvis’s new flagship rod was designed with one key objective in mind—accuracy. The blank is constructed to make loading easy, so that the rod generates line speed super quickly, requiring fewer false casts. According to Orvis, the rod has a 77 improvement in impact strength compared with past models, and it tracks incredibly well with very little wobble at the end of a casting stroke. It’s an expertly crafted fly rod that comes in two flavors—F, for a moderate action, and D, for longer casts, bigger flies, and better performance in windy conditions.

Smith Transfer Sunglasses

Smith has developed a new type of frame technology called QuickFit, in which a wire-core mechanism is molded into the frame. A simple flick of the wrist and bend of the frame tightens or loosens the glasses, so you can adjust them for demanding and more relaxed conditions. Combine that with color-filtering lenses and optional prescription compatibility and you’ve got one badass pair of fishing glasses. Available from regular to XL sizes for all you bucket heads out there.

Korkers Wraptr Wading Boots

Korkers has eliminated stitching on their new Wraptr wading boot. Yeah, you read that right. The place where most boots fail—the stitching—has been virtually eliminated from the company’s latest boot. Because of this development, the Wraptr is not only mega-durable, but also lightweight, since less fabric is needed to hold the boot together.

Rep Your Water Side Channel Button Down

This husband-and-wife duo first took the fishing world by storm with their catchy designs and state-pride-themed hats. Now they’re at it again with a remarkably good-looking button-down for all-day action on the water. It boasts UPF 30 UV protection, a super-light polyester feel, a functional fly patch, and quick-dry technology.

Patagonia Tough Puff Hoody

The Tough Puff was made for bashing through the bush and standing around all day in a favorite steelhead run, swinging flies in chilly water. It’s an update on a previous best-seller; made of a more durable, breathable face fabric; and is treated with a DWR water repellent. It also has elastic cuffs for landing fish and two oversized pockets for fly boxes.

Flymen Fishing Company Surface Seducer Double Barrel Bass Bug

Flymen’s latest popper took home best in show for freshwater flies at IFTD with this bug. If you’re a largemouth fan, it’s easy to see why the pattern claimed top honors, given its massive front cup for aggressive popping. What’s more, it’s constructed of lightweight yet durable EVA closed-cell foam and finished with a thin coat of flexible epoxy.

Fishpond Thunderhead Submersible Pack

Fishpond’s newest pack is truly 100-percent submersible, and it’s built with an extremely robust 1680D, entirely recycled TPU-coated fabric. It’s one of the most robust backpacks I’ve seen in a long while, and it’s designed for the angler who likes to push boundaries a bit. Its open design lets you dictate how the inside is arranged, and the pack is perfect for protecting sensitive camera equipment and gear.

A newcomer to the fishing scene, Soft Science has released what they are calling the “ultimate wading boot for flyfishing.” Bold. But, I must say, I’m pretty intrigued by this company. The shoes are incredibly light (about 10 ounces), look really damn good, and are built with a proprietary sole called Trileon. The idea is that the sticky bottom conforms to rocks, but is still lightweight and provides impact-resistance with great support.

Buff makes the best gloves for fishing and rowing out there—period. This year they are upping the game with the lightweight Aqua Gloves. Features include pull tabs at the wrists and middle fingers for easy on-and-off; a silicone palm for great grip; a double layer of fabric between the index finger and thumb, for increased durability; a bonded hem at the wrist that eliminates chafing; and, of course, a 50-plus UPF rating.

Tacky Fly Fishing Predator Box

Tacky is back at it with the Predator Box, one the best streamer boxes I’ve ever seen. It measures 11x6x1½ inches. The silicon slit system uses polycarbonate ribs molded into the box—thus eliminating the need for adhesives (think about those hot car days)—that have perfectly spaced slits for storing large hooks. The box also boasts neodymium magnetic closures, and comes with five “wishbone” pieces, which hold articulated flies in place like a champ. The box is a touch heavy at 21 ounces, but if you’re a streamer junkie on a boat, or like to have the big bugs with you, it shouldn’t much matter.

Fair Flies Composite Brushes

This product may change fly tying forever. Each “brush” consists of up to five different materials on a stainless-steel wire; by simply turning the brush once around a hook creates a fly. Not only are these composite brushes good for flies, but they also work well for making homemade jigs, spinnerbaits, and other types of baits. Fair Flies aims to have over 100 different colored brushes available. Watch the video below to get a better idea of how this works. It’s incredibly simple and genius.

Redington’s new i.D. might be the most fun reel to hit the market in a decade. Its flat back surface is blank, and you can choose between images of donuts (my favorite), state flags, goofy sayings, and fishy artwork to customize it to your preference. Word on the street is that Redington plans to unveil a template down the line so you can trick out the reel with any image imaginable. The reel also has a smooth rulon disc drag, a large arbor, and a comfortable handle to boot.

Like everything Vedavoo makes, this thing is simple. By dropping the butt of a rod through a loop and buckling a strap around the grip, the holster secures your rod in place, making for easy fly changes and for easy transport. Imagine having something like this while wading the salty flats, or when bass fishing and you need a second rod ready for carp. Simple, smart, and completely made in the U.S.A.

Creek Company T. Rex Mini Drifter

The T. Rex Mini Drifter is an angler’s dream. It’s a legit tough-as-nails, four-chambered, drop-stitch-floored fishing vessel, complete with frame and handles. And somehow it weighs only 115 pounds, and can easily be stuffed in the back of a car.

Drinktank Insulated Growler

I can’t think of anything that goes better together than fishing and beer. The only thing that could perhaps improve the pairing is having a vacuum-insulated growler. Enter the Drinktank Insulated Growler, which keeps brews cold for 12 hours. Not only that, with the add-on keg cap, you can chill your beer with a blast of CO2, turning the growler into a mini-keg for your boat, backpack, or trunk.

Catch and Release Print Shop

Here’s a novel idea: Instead of getting a replica mount of the trophy fish you caught on vacation you can go a pseudo-Gyotaku route and contact the Catch and Release Print Shop. They will create a print of your fish to the exact length and close to the proportions on archival paper and inks with your name, and any other information about the catch. They have partnered with three different artists and have 1,500 different species of fish to choose from, so it’s a solid bet they can make you a print no matter what you catch.

Bonafide Kayaks, a newcomer to the kayak-fishing world, launched themselves at IFTD this year. The team is well-versed in the ways of ’yak fishing and has designed its new kayaks from the ground up. With a focus on stability and paddling performance, the kayaks also have a genre-blending hybrid cat-hull design. Keep an eye out for Bonafide, because there is a good chance they could blow open the fishing world.

With the new G Series, Scott Rods has turned a classic rod into a magic wand. Scott launched the original G series in 1976, and revamped it in 2006. The latest iteration is not a do-it-all model, but, for lovers of medium-action, smooth-casting rods, you’re going to enjoy the hell out of the new G Series. It’s 20 percent lighter than the original and bends super deep, all the while retaining a stable feel. Go cast one at your local shop.

Simms SolarFlex Armor Shirt

Simms took first place with the all new SolarFlex Armor Shirt in the general apparel category at IFTD. And rightly so. It’s probably one of the most technically advanced shirts ever made in regards to sun coverage. But to me, the best part about the shirt is the patent-pending integrated hood and sungaiter system, which at first looks bulky but I can assure you that it is far from it. The SolarFlex Armor Shirt is also anti-odor, moisture-wicking, and UPF 50 rated, and features a cooling material that reduce its temperature by up to 30 percent when wet.

Virtue and Moir hope a little change brings a familiar result in Pyeongchang 

Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir know — and don’t much like — that second-place feeling.

Rare as second-best has been in the two decades they’ve been cutting a chasse swath through the world of competitive ice dancing.

Gold becomes them much more fetchingly.

So silver at the Sochi Olympics left a taste of ashes, when they were out-dazzled by American training partners Meryl Davis and Charlie White. Though of course the Canadians already have an Olympic gold in the trophy étagère from Vancouver. And triple world gold, as of 2017. And seven national titles.

They’re kinda great at this. But not quite gold-good enough at the Grand Prix finals last month, when they placed second behind France’s Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron despite a season-best free dance score. The Gallic duo also happens to train alongside the Canadians in Montreal. They all keep a beady eye on each other as friendly rivals.

Sochi silver is what they set out to avenge when last year returning to the competition circuit. The GP outcome, Virtue and Moir are confident, was a mere speed bump on that that PyeongChang-bound journey — if instructive.

“We were pretty open that we don’t plan on coming second at the Olympics like we did at Grand Prix finals,” Moir said last week. “So we kind of went back to the drawing board. A couple of big changes that we’re really excited about.”

Those changes, primarily to their Moulin Rouge free program, will be un-packed for public scrutiny at the Canadian championships in Vancouver this weekend.

Frankly, it’s a race for second among Canada’s other ice dance tandems, although there are a couple of couples worthy of the top five globally who will be splendid successors to Virtue and Moir as they approach — for real this time — the end of the road. Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje twice waltzed and mamboed and flamenco’d and hip-hopped to Canadian titles whilst Virtue and Moir were on self-imposed furlough, adding back-to-back GP championships to their medal trove as well.

Canadians are simply ice dancers extraordinaire, which is why so many international teams seek the tutelage of Canadian coaches who themselves have fared well in the sport. Which is what drew Virtue and Moir to the husband-wife team of Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon, five-time Canadian champions, just afore their own domination.

“The whole plan is peaking in February,” says Virtue, 28, explaining that Canadians are the last stepping stone before South Korea. “But we also need to make a statement. We need to come out strong, with guns blazing, ready to take on the world in February.”

They returned from the Grand Prix final in Japan with a clearer idea of what needed improvement, what needed amending, particularly after receiving feedback from judges — this is a weird part of the sport, that those who judge the performance also provide recommendations. “Mostly that’s our coaches’ job,” explains Moir, “to get the feedback for us and then we discuss what we want to do. The biggest part for Tessa and I, where we made the most ground-breaking effort, was when we wanted the tape for ourselves. We’ve had a lot of time in this sport. We know what we want our performances to look like.

“When we looked at our Grand Prix final, we were super happy with our skate. But we know there’s more on the table for us to do. So it’s been a busy month trying to live up to what we want our Olympic performance to look like.”

Reviewing the Grand Prix video, there was one thing in particular that struck the skaters.

“We always talk about how much we enjoy skating,” says Moir. “We felt like we were enjoying it. But we watched some of the tape and it didn’t really translate.”

Thus there were some significant adjustments to the Moulin Rouge choreography, with music edits to the second half of the program, while also lading the program with extra flourishes and difficulties to crank up their levels and points potential.

“Trying to emphasize more of the duet and the love story,’’ says Virtue, “culminating in a bigger, more theatrical ending. That’s been so refreshing for us. Especially at this point of the season, having trained and performed this program so many times, it’s ingrained in our bodies and we’re so committed to this storyline and we love it. But bringing in some fresh movement, it feels like the program has been reborn. And we’re thrilled with the direction it’s taken. I think it will be hopefully more appealing to the masses.”

It’s also a natural progression, as programs grow throughout the season.

This is a couple that has always pushed the ice dancing envelope, imbuing the sport with both elegance and athleticism. And, of course, their own personalities, their own recognizable style. With Moulin Rouge, they made a slight pivot. “We really wanted a sleek, modern, contemporary aesthetic overall,” says Virtue. “I mean, it’s so emotional and so layered and so nuanced that you feel the spectrum of emotions. There’s aggression, there’s passion, there’s anger, there’s jealousy, there’s love. There’s so much to tell and we’re trying to tell that a little more physically than anything. So, just having various points of departure throughout, incorporating tango movements while also doing the unexpected.

“Okay, what would be the normal approach to this specific beat or this melody? And then trying to go in a different direction. At this point, it seems we’ve sort of established a particular style of moving on the ice. And we wanted to stay away from that a bit. We wanted to make sure that when we took to the ice for our third Olympic Games, we weren’t the same team — it was a different Tessa and Scott. We’re moving differently, expressing differently, skating differently. And that’s what we continue to strive for.”

Yet they, their choreographers and their coaches also had to be mindful that the skaters still need to be “Tessa and Scott” and stay true to the pith of their being and emphasize quality.

“The tendency now is to try and do so much, especially after our second-place finish at Grand Prix finals,” says Moir, 30. “I think the changes we made are just opening the program up. There were some parts where we just felt suffocated in the movement and that showed on the tape. So, try to open it up and keep it close to our hearts.’’

The 2014 Olympic experience, Moir adds, emboldened them.

“We wanted to make changes (in Sochi) but didn’t have the guts to do so in the middle of the season. I don’t think that’s the case here. We’re really trying to challenge ourselves so that when we look back, we’re not regretting anything.”

They don’t need to prove anything anymore. But leaving the competitive sport with Olympic gold would put a lovely bow on their exceptional career, as the last waltz looms.

“It’s imminent and it’s coming so fast,” says Virtue, with more than a hint of wistfulness.

“It’s hard not to be sentimental at this point in the season and in our careers,” says Virtue. “This whole comeback process has just been so fulfilling and incredibly rewarding. We’ve been trying to embrace it, every bit of it.’’

- The Star 

The Game You’ll Never Win | By: Gwen Smith

When I coached high school volleyball, one of the games we played in practice was called Queen of the Court, the goal of which is simple: gain and keep the lead. Dominate. Serve more aggressively, pass more accurately, set more strategically, and hit harder than your opponents.

My life sometimes feels like a game of Queen of the Court.

I strive, set goals, create a game plan, and execute the strategy. I long to be my best (a good thing), but at times my goal changes from wanting to experience all of God’s best for me to wanting to be THE best (not so good). Look at me, everyone! Check out my people, my position, my possessions, my trophies-of-greatness…

I have to check my heart.

Am I striving to be my best in order to make the most of what God has given me—or because I want to impress others and be at the top of the heap? Those are two very different questions.

Too often I become fixated on aggressively spiking balls on the volleyball court of my ego, my family, my church, my community, my country. (My goodness!) To make it worse, I throw on an invisible jersey and play a game of Who-Is-The-Greatest? Aren’t we so good at that? We think:

I would be incredible at that position if the boss would just stop giving all the best assignments to other people.

If I use this decorating idea from Pinterest, my house will be the envy of every woman in the neighborhood.

We want to be seen as the best.

We want to be the best employee, work for the biggest Fortune 500 company, and attend the largest church with the most popular pastor. We want to parent the smartest kids, serve on the most important committees, and dangle on the arm of a hunky husband. Our shiny pursuits and performances become our social media statuses the moment they happen.

Can I get a witness?

We boast. We brag. We strive. We show. We want. We need. As I think of these things a hush falls over my heart. Conviction. Embarrassment.

Lord, forgive us.

We all want to be great. And that’s not a bad thing in and of itself. We need to be people of excellence. Jesus told a story, the Parable of the Talents, where He taught that each of us is responsible to wisely use what we are given (Matthew 25:14-30). God expects us to use our talents, personalities, gifts, and energy in productive ways. The problem comes in our motivation. If we’re striving for excellence so others will be oh-so-impressed, then we’re acting out of pride.

Instead of elevating our Lord, we’re elevating ourselves.

Lord, forgive us.

The fire of conviction warms me…bends my knees.

Queen of the Court is a useful volleyball drill, but it is not a game Christians should be playing. If I really want to have all the impact God intends for me to have, then I need to be far more concerned with the greatness of God than with the greatness of Gwen.

The. End.

Peter reminds us of this in his letter to the believers in the early church. “All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because ‘God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.’ Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time” (1 Peter 5:5b-6, NIV).

Our job: be humble before God and to others. Stop playing the greatness game.

God’s job: to lift us up as He sees fit, when He sees fit… all to elevate Himself.

Dear Lord, You are the great I Am. Help me to focus on Your greatness instead of my own. Purify my heart and be glorified in and through me today. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

My Philosophy on Dog Training part 3

Once your dog's entire makeup is clear to you, you'll find it easier to do the right thing automatically. And knowing the full range of feats that dogs can perform will give you greater confidence for the more elementary steps. The Love Fallacy One of the chief reasons we have difficulty understanding dogs is, paradoxically, because.they've been associated with us for such a long time-so much so that we take them for granted. The first evidence of dog's association with man is found at the Mesolithic site of Star Carr in England about 9500 B.c when the 

dog's superior sense of smell probably directed man to within bowshot of food animals. Recently in the ruins of Pompeii the lava casts of the bodies of a little boy and his huge dog were found. On the dog's bronze collar was the still legible inscription: "This dog has saved his little master three times once from fire, once from drowning, and once from thieves." The dog had obviously tried to rescue his master once more. * Very few domestic animals were found in the archaeological excavations of Pompeii. Animals instinctively know of impending catastrophe, and obviously most of the dogs fled before the eruption occurred. The night before the San Francisco earthquake in 1906, dogs barked strangely. Horses snorted and stampeded minutes before anyone realized what was going on. In the mountains of Sicily, people leave their houses should the dogs suddenly exit. * In England,medals and trophies are awarded for canine bravery. One is the National Canine Defense League Medal, the dog's version of the Victoria Cross. Swansea Jack, a black retriever, saved twenty-seven people from drowning at the Swansea Docks and was awarded the dog's V.C. Chum was decorated by the Duke of Gloucester for bravery in saving two people from a fire. The dog was sixteen years old. John Garfield once turned down a film role which required him to mistreat a dog. "Slapping women, robbing kids, yes, but the public would never forgive anyone who kicked a dog." One of my most unforgettable clients was a man in his forties who had built a towering reputation in New York's manufacturing community. Midway through his executive life, he acquired a Newfoundland puppy. He found that he had barely enough time to play with the dog when he came home in the evening. Most owners would compromise with such a p full schedule, but not this gentleman. He retired from his enormously successful business and moved away from his family. During the winters he and the Newfoundland went to live in Florida, where he served as a cabana attendant. In the summers he came north again, to tend bar and have the full day to spend with his dog. For seven years he relished his full-time companionship, never missing his previously wealthy life. Then tragedy struck; the Newfoundland became ill with a spine problem. Over $ 10,000 was spent on surgery and recuperation kennels, but the dog was still unable to walk. His owner hired physiotherapists to take the dog swimming each day in the surf-but to no avail, and eventually he had his pet put to sleep. Heartbroken, the man no longer had any "excuse to keep on with his nomadic existence”. He went back to his old line of work, and in a few short months, he had turned a few inventive ideas into a fortune. This brought him no particular joy, but his success was a thorn in the side of his competitors who retaliated-if you can call it that-by leaving another lovely puppy literally on the doorstep of his brownstone. And indeed, he became so involved with his new pet that again he left his business to spend his waking hours with a four-legged companion. An unhappy majority of the population work at jobs they don't like, taking orders from others, forced to hold back their emotions. When they return home in the evening, their only emotional outlet is through their family or their pets. Those who live alone have no immediate family, so they use the dog to balance the day's ledgers either by being nice or being nasty. When they realize that the animal will accept them with no backtalk, they usually look forward to coming home and enjoying their animal. I always remind owners that the ultimate one-to-one relationship is with another person. But if a man wants to take a walk after supper to relax and do some heavy thinking, who does he choose to take along-his wife, his kids, or the dog? People can tell a dog anything, be inconsistent and ill-tempered, and still be assured of faithful love. Some people tell me that if it weren't for their dogs, they couldn't have gotten through moments of stress. When I'm bothered about certain things, I find it relaxing just walking and playing and even talking to my dog. My wife finds pleasure holding her dog in her arms and dancing with him to some good music. I hate to admit it, but if I had to choose between saving my dog and a total human stranger, I would probably save the dog. Check the daily listings in the newspapers lost-and-found column to see how much the average dog can mean to its owners. And once a dog is adopted into the family, no expense seems too high to be justified. An interesting example of this occurred to a New York couple, each of whom was extremely wrapped up in a career. They acquired a collie and since neither was able to walk the animal on any regular schedule, a professional dog walking service was hired. When the husband complained about the bills, the wife told him simply, ,It's too late. “The dog is already part of the family." The status conscious will pick a breed that's very showy and obviously very expensive: a saluki, Afghan, or Russian wolfhound. The dogs that New York's -swinging singles pick are all very good measurements of what the owners want you to think of them. But the owners who worry me are those who choose certain breeds to compensate for their own deficiencies. Some people want very aggressive dogs because either they are, or want to be, aggressive people. Specifically, I find that many owners themselves are physically shy and feel put-upon. So they choose a dog who's anything but. The most common problem, of course, is that the shy master finds it difficult to control an animal he has already decided is 46 stronger' than he is. Many people consider their dog a human being, or at least a creature who appreciates the same luxuries we do. Who hasn't seen households with covered-up chairs for the dog's comfort, televisions turned to a certain channel "for the dogs"? On Park Avenue, there's a poodle who lives in the utmost of style. He has steps up to his bed so that he doesn't have to jump. A rubber mat lies under his sheets, which are changed daily by a maid hired especially for this purpose. The poodle is fed pits, caviar, and champagne, and has a tailor-made wardrobe. His mistress doesn't want to inhibit him in any way. A middle-aged woman called me to check on what supplies she would need for a weekend trip to the Poconos. When questioned what she had already added to the carload, she listed dog deodorizer, foam cushions, food, water bowls, chew bones, toys, a spatula, and a New York Times.

title: MONSTAR

author: kewltie

pairing: hyukjae/donghae

contains: slight media fic, non-linear narrative, celeb/manager, substance abuse, fandom

summary:  The life and time Lee Eunhyuk--rock god, king of the airport's runway, lord of the tabloid's front page and Donghae's eternal migraine.

a/n: i said i wasn't going to start anything new new until i finish my other projects but LOOK it been two years (??) since i wrote anything that doesn't belong in magnetic, posted to my tumblr, OR updated any of my old fics soooo hey! this isn't even new new since i been working on this on and off on my tumblr for years now so haha /o\. i like to think of this entire 'verse as my love letter to lee hyukjae so HERE WE GO GUYS. 2-3 parts i think?? lmao I THINK.

>>>>>>>>>Part One<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Cynical Satire and Civic Optimism Across the American Heartland

NOVEMBER 19, 2018

THE ONLY TIME I’ve ridden on a Greyhound bus was in 2012, en route to New Hampshire to watch the primaries unfold. The trip itself was uneventful, and in electoral time it feels as if it happened eons ago. I may believe you if you tell me that the Republicans’ choice of Mitt Romney as their presidential nominee occurred in an age before air travel. I may even agree to take buses exclusively from now on if it means there will be a saner politics waiting at the end of the road.

Gary Shteyngart’s Lake Success is a novel centered on Americans’ nostalgia for the Greyhound bus. But it’s also a novel that skewers us for that nostalgia. Long-haul bus rides may seem the perfect vehicle for post-partisan populism. The Greyhound, we may imagine, combines beatnik fantasies with Middle America geography as it transports those too poor to buy a plane ticket and too down on their luck to be politically correct. But anyone who gets aboard the Greyhound to live out a sociological experiment rather than to simply secure an affordable ride from point A to point B is probably carrying some baggage of his own. This is certainly the case with Barry Cohen in Lake Success.

Barry is a hedge-fund manager who, like Martin Shkreli, has gotten fantastically rich off of corrupt Big Pharma deals. He’s running from the law, though he doesn’t admit that’s what he’s up to. His more immediate reason for buying a bus ticket and tossing his black Amex card is that his wife, Seema, and his nanny have just gouged his face after a fight with the neighbors in their Central Park West penthouse. Neither Barry nor Seema is ready to confront the fact that no amount of money can buy off their son’s autism diagnosis. Instead Barry cursed out the neighbors for having the sort of “neurotypical” three-year-old who can perform all the verses of “I’m a Little Bumblebee” at a dinner party. Now he’s fleeing through Baltimore; Richmond, Virginia; Atlanta; and El Paso, Texas, on an impromptu search for his college girlfriend.

Shteyngart’s allusions are aggressive. While traveling, Barry contemplates writing about his journey in the style of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road (1957), “but in thoughtful middle-aged prose.” Instead of President Donald Trump’s “small hands,” Barry has small wrists, and he obsessively collects designer watches to compensate. Barry’s fund is named This Side of Capital, and after that fails, he starts another called Last Tycoon Capital. Lest we miss the references, Shteyngart reveals that F. Scott Fitzgerald is Barry’s favorite author.

At the same time, it’s easy to imagine a man of Barry’s narcissism making it clear that he graduated from Princeton University by cornering someone at a high-status party to tell tales of acquaintances who once performed with the Triangle Club. Barry realizes he can’t brag to the Greyhound passengers in quite the same way, but he finds other outlets for his ego-driven ambitions. He dreams up schemes for an “Urban Watch Fund” to teach kids the mechanics of Rolexes and turn the youth of Baltimore into “stakeholders.” He mulls launching a hedge fund in Mississippi (“Absalom Investments”) and posing under a magnolia tree for a photo op as part of a Wall Street Journal story.

As satire, Lake Success is brilliant, yet Shteyngart seems to be reaching for something more. The book plays out in two parts broken around Trump’s election. The first half, which begins with a drunken Barry stumbling into the Port Authority Bus Terminal “at the start of the First Summer of Trump,” is a more entertaining read. Barry encounters various strangers, such as the Baltimore drug dealer he thinks may make a decent business partner; the beautiful Marriott employee in Jackson, Mississippi, who becomes the first black woman he’s ever slept with; and Barry’s personal favorite, the “one-eyed Mexican man [who] fell asleep on my shoulder!” But they are merely props on Barry’s personal stage rather than people who offer real insight about life outside Manhattan. The travails of the Greyhound ride get tedious and, predictably, Barry’s marriage comes to an end.

The latter half of the book is then tinged with guilt that we could ever find a man like Barry funny. Shteyngart emphasizes that Barry and his fellow plutocrats are responsible for our present political mess and that no road trip through the heartland can assuage that. Not only is Barry not as funny as we’d hoped, he lacks the modicum of self-reflection needed to pull off a narrative arc. Narcissists make for lousy presidents and off-putting protagonists — 350 pages is a long time to spend with such self-centered New Yorkers.

Barry’s wife is a deeply conflicted woman who is well aware that she traded in her Yale Law degree to become a trophy wife. Seema contemplates joining the Hillary campaign or working part time at Planned Parenthood, yet she enjoys the ease of Barry’s wealth, if only because it pays for her daytime trysts with a semi-famous Guatemalan novelist at the Gramercy Park Hotel. But Shteyngart’s message is less about the contradictions of feminist one-percenters than about the sort of men they marry. It’s high-powered men, Shteyngart maintains, who can’t have it all. Barry wants to live as a rich Manhattanite who can nevertheless take solace in having once completed a creative-writing minor at Princeton. He wants us to know that, at bottom, he’s a sensitive guy who’s read some Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway.

In one of Shteyngart’s best scenes (perhaps inspired by his own experience teaching creative writing at Columbia University), young Barry tries to wow his college girlfriend with a story about a misunderstood banker who stumbles out of his Mercedes-Benz into a Vermont pasture to confess his mistakes to a beautiful shepherdess (i.e., his girlfriend). Barry’s professor is having none of it. About Barry and his Goldman Sachs–bound classmates, he says, “Even the volatility of their emotions is a financialized asset which can be traded between them at will.” This feedback is lost on Barry. What sends him reeling on his road trip these many years later is Seema’s accusation that he has “no imagination.” As Barry tirelessly reminds us, he strives to be a man with both “a vocation and an avocation.” But with the Feds on his tail for fraud and his wife unimpressed by his reading habits, Barry seems to have neither.

While Lake Success seethes with cynicism, Our Towns, by James and Deborah Fallows, is doggedly upbeat. And whereas Barry’s cross-country adventure ends in an expensive divorce, Our Towns is a travelogue co-authored by a husband and wife who alternate chapters. The book, now slated to become an HBO documentary, expands upon a series of articles and blog posts James wrote as a correspondent for The Atlantic. The couple makes a deliberate effort to see “flyover country” by way of their single-engine Cirrus SR22, and the many flights they record between 2012 and 2017 put a new spin on the Kerouac conceit: steering their small propeller plane toward out-of-the-way landing strips allows them to see much more of the country than would be accessible by car (or, for that matter, by bus).

So the Fallowses crisscross from Burlington, Vermont, to St. Marys, Georgia, from Guymon, Oklahoma, to Dodge City, Kansas. Some of their tales from the field are genuinely interesting: we learn why most credit card payments are processed in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and how engineers at Texas A&M University are mass-breeding a species of weevil that will eat up the invasive plant threatening Caddo Lake. But the book as a whole starts to read like a lengthy chamber of commerce brochure. The founder of the Ocean Renewable Power Company in Eastport, Maine, boasts that it’s the “Kitty Hawk of hydrokinetic power.” Holland, Michigan, is home to the world’s largest pickle-processing plant. The kids at Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science know how to construct 3-D printers. All the civic boosterism begins to run together.

The Fallowses are big fans of “public-private partnerships,” street art, and minor-league baseball teams — in other words, very visible signs of regional activity. They explain that, when they arrive in a new place, one of their first questions is, “Who makes this town go?” This method inevitably points them in the direction of mayors and local developers, and, naturally, these are the types most likely to emphasize sports stadiums, river walks, and the new magnet schools.

Attractive downtowns are all well and good, but it’s strange that the Fallowses don’t feature clergy, social workers, or nurses, who may have offered a more nuanced glimpse of daily life when citizens aren’t dining out by the waterfront. Surely there are success stories to be told about rehab centers or local parishes defying the national odds. Maybe these conversations would have been too moralistic or ambivalent for a book that is so relentlessly sunny.

Whereas Lake Success is saturated with Trump allusions, the Fallowses work hard in Our Towns to eschew national politics even as the 2016 election haunts their travels. James admits that Fox News is often blaring in the background but insists that Washington, DC, just doesn’t come up that often. Somehow, however, residents know about James’s career as a speechwriter for President Jimmy Carter. How do they learn this unless the conversation occasionally veers toward Washington?

The Fallowses conclude that “[t]he more often national politics came into local discussions, the worse shape the town was likely to be in.” This is likely true, but the Fallowses hold so firm to this maxim that the reader gets the sense they’re afraid to broach both national politics and deep-seated local problems. James mentions that a nurse in Bend, Oregon, seems wary of giving him codeine for his flu because of the region’s opioid epidemic. But we’re left wondering what would have happened if James had followed up with her about how the city is faring with the crisis. Instead, the chapter pivots to a bullet-point list of all the opportunities available at Central Oregon Community College.

Likewise, when Deborah investigates rural healthcare in Ajo, Arizona, she gives a quick nod to drug- and depression-related issues and the challenges of operating a clinic so isolated that pregnant women can’t receive prenatal care. But then we receive a cheerful description of how gardens and farmers markets are answering nutrition needs in the desert. The story of Ajo ends with the Fallowses purchasing “jars of local citrus marmalade.”

In their preface, the Fallowses concede that two of the businesses they profile in Our Towns have since failed and that not all the places they visited are on the mend. We’re left to wonder which businesses these are and whether, in retrospect, the Fallowses see why they didn’t make it. Such reporting, however, would have required more skepticism toward their hosts’ sales pitches, an approach that clearly didn’t fit their book’s message of civic optimism.

So if the Fallowses come across too earnest and Shteyngart too stinging, what’s the contemporary writer to do? As puritanical as it sounds, some sincerity may help. In Lionel Trilling’s famous formulation, the rise of the novel coincided with the decline of sincerity as a serious moral virtue. At some point in the 18th century, Trilling suggests, the commitment to do and say what we mean — usually in conformity with religious principles — came to seem wooden and odd.

American sincerity probably lingered a little longer, given our rates of religiosity and the fact that we are so geographically dispersed. But there’s no question that plainspokenness gave way to an obsession with “authenticity.” The earlier strain of honesty had less to do with the individual: we spoke sincerely as a mark of faithfulness or, relatedly, to uphold the community’s virtue. Whatever primness was present at Plymouth Rock has long since yielded to romanticism, Freudianism, and the free-spirited urge to be true to oneself, not to some preening external authority. Authenticity remains a crucial part of the stories Americans tell themselves, but the self-conscious, self-centered strain of recent decades has flattered libertarians, hippies, Southerners, start-up executives, and, of course, wandering tourists.

Maybe, though, Americans are so angry because what they’ve been sold no longer seems authentic and they’ve lost the moral vocabulary to be sincere. In this absence of plainspokenness, Lake Success and Our Towns quest after what they want to be true. Barry tries to honor the love interests of his 19-year-old self, while the Fallowses look for the perfect microbrewery to fight urban blight. Yet they invite our suspicion: Barry doesn’t have an avocation, not all American towns are healthy, and our president isn’t a self-made man. We can only hope that, as citizens take to the streets, the authors who meet them there will truly tell it like it is.

¤

Danielle Charette is a PhD candidate with the University of Chicago’s Committee on Social Thought. Her work has appeared in The Point, The Chronicle Review, The Hedgehog Review, and Tocqueville 21.

Source: https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/cynical-satire-and-civic-optimism-across-the-american-heartland/