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How unions de-risk work

Yesterday, I published an essay about how monopolies beget monopolies: when deregulation kicked off a wave of pharma mergers, the new pharma oligopoly gained the power to raise prices on hospitals.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/16/wage-theft/#excessive-buyer-power

The hospitals weren't able to form a cartel to insist on better prices: the US antitrust law created by Ronald Reagan's court sorcerer Robert Bork is incredibly tolerant of monopolist price-rigging, but violently opposed to cartels that price-rig.

Rather than forming a cartel, the hospitals gobbled each other up to create monopolies. If the CEOs of six hospitals insist on better drug prices, it's illegal. If the presidents of six hospitals (all owned by the same monopolist) do the same thing, it's fine.

Big Hospital wasn't merely better positioned to demand better drug prices from Big Pharma, they were also able to charge more to the fragmented, decentralized health insurance industry.

Predictably, this kicked off a wave of mergers that produced Big Insurance, a monopolized world that gives most Americans between zero and two insurers who'll take their business.

Freed from the risk of losing customers and bulked up to meet hospital monopolies on even footings, insurance companies could both insist on lower payouts to hospitals and *higher* premiums from patients. And at last we had some sort of equilibrium.

Pharma companies could charge more for drugs, but not too much more. Hospitals could lower the standard of care, raise prices, and squeeze workers' wages and working conditions. Insurance companies could cut payments to hospitals, raise prices and hike co-pays.

Everyone got what they wanted, except for two groups that can't form monopolies that push back against this monopoly-dominated industry:

* Patients, and

* Workers

Historically, the "monopolist" safeguarding patients' interests was the state: democratically elected lawmakers who relied on voters for re-election. The massive increase in corporate campaign finance was attended by steady erosion of political loyalty to the public interest.

And so the public lost its champion, and prices went up and quality went down and redress was whittled away to performative apologies after crises of too great a magnitude to be ignored, accompanied by fines that were mere fractions of the profits from corruption.

Meanwhile, workers' champions were their unions: solidarity organizations that corrected the negotiating imbalance between employers and employees by presenting a united front.

That unity extended beyond the gates of a single employer. Picket-line crossing was a grave sin, so if your hotel's maids went out on strike, the Teamsters wouldn't deliver your groceries and the taxi cabs wouldn't pick up at your entrance.

And related trades were able to bargain together: in Hollywood, the writers and actors and tradespeople would start each contract season by visiting the weakest studio as a body and demand the best deal, then require parity from other studios in turn.

Since the Reagan years, union power has been drained off. For example, the way Hollywood unions negotiate has been flipped on its head. Now, the *studios* visit the weakest union as a body and demand the most labor concessions, then take those to the other unions in turn.

It's been generations since union power was a given, and we haven't just lost our power, we've lost our imaginations - the sense of what is possible, what we are owed, how the system could work. We've learned to take precarity and low wages as a given.

That's why Reina Sultan's "8 People Describe How Unions Changed Their Lives" for Vice is so important: not because it is heartwarming (though it is) but because it is ripe with possibility, the recovered wisdom of a fallen civilization.

https://www.vice.com/en/article/bvxqvm/why-unions-are-good-first-hand-accounts-of-how-unions-change-lives

These eight workers describe how joining a union turned precarity into certainty. How the hotels they worked for had to promise to hire them back after the pandemic lifted. How they were promised ten hours of uninterrupted sleep between shifts.

How their employers had to accommodate their disabilities. How they were guaranteed health insurance that covered their whole families. How they were protected from being arbitrarily fired, and guaranteed severance pay when they were laid off.

These guarantees have a common theme: they de-risk being a worker and make it riskier to be an employer. Much of our day-to-day life is a series of negotiations over who should bear the risk that things will turn out bad.

Think of all the corporate bailouts, how these are "socialism for shareholders, capitalism for workers." When the fed bails out banks and employers but not mortgage holders and workers, they move risk off the finance-sector's balance sheet and stick it on our balance sheet.

When you run a business, you assume risks. Maybe you have a slow Saturday and end up paying workers to hang around with nothing to do. If you can book a worker's Sat, but unilaterally send them home two hours into their shift because it's slow, you shift your risk onto them.

The worker has to be available for you, but you don't have to use that availability. Likewise disability accommodations: when you hire and train a worker, you face the risk that they will become disabled, permanently or temporarily, on or off the job.

When that happens, you might have to pay to change the physical environment so they can do their job, or give them disability pay. If you can just fire them, you shift the risk onto the worker, and off your own books.

Every benefit described by workers in Way's article is risk being shifted from workers back onto employers. The right not to be summarily fired means workers aren't at risk from vindictive, bad bosses. It also means employers may struggle to shed "low-performing" workers.

It's a good reminder of the "struggle" in "class struggle." These risks are, by their nature, zero-sum. To decrease the risk of being stuck with a bad employee, you have to *increase* the risk of an employee being targeted by a bad manager. There's no win-win here.

Sure, employers will say that they share the workers' interest in rooting out bad managers, but there is an inescapable contradiction between reserving the right to fire anyone, for any reason, and making sure workers aren't unjustly fired.

The same goes for every benefit articulated by union members. If you're an electrician who wants to be able to get home, sleep and go back to work without being interrupted for ten straight hours, you push risk onto your employer.

Meanwhile, if you *don't* have that right, your employer gets to shove risk onto you. For example, they could underinvest in upgrades and preventative maintenance, knowing that when things break down, they can summon you to get them working again, without paying any overtime.

The project of worker solidarity comes down to this foundational question: who should bear which risks? Would you rather have bad bosses firing people over personal vendettas, or co-workers who are hard to fire even though they're not great at their jobs?

We don't need to pretend that moving risk onto employers' side of the ledger always produces better outcomes. It doesn't. Workers can be jerks, too. But an individual bad boss has the power to do enormous harm to their entire workforce over a long term.

Think of all the people maimed, killed and sickened in Amazon's warehouses because of one individual's willingness and ability to shift risk off his balance sheet and onto theirs.

It's true that an especially toxic unionized worker could make life miserable for many, many other workers - but that's still a better outcome than an especially toxic CEO, not least because unions give workers the power to address bad workers even when management won't.

Is it possible for things to be overbalanced, for too much risk to be shifted off of worker's balance sheets and onto employers' side of the ledger? Sure, theoretically. But that is a situation so far removed from workplace reality today that it's practically a fairy-tale.

And if we're really worried about too much risk landing on employers, then we can go back to the peoples' source of power: democratic governance. Unions represent a power-bloc that can (but don't always) hold politicians to account.

It's hard to imagine any political path to checking corporate power that doesn't include organized groups of workers *and* organized groups of citizens, working for political change.

If health insurance, disability accommodations, retirement pay, parental leave and other sources of workplace risk are moved onto the public's balance sheet, they cease to be things that workers or employers need to argue about. They're just a given.

Think of it this way: bosses and workers don't fight over who will pay to pave the roads to the business. They don't fight over who will fight fires, or allocate RF frequency for the office wireless network. These risks are moved to the public ledger, where they belong.

This kind of political change is also hard to imagine, after 40 years of Reaganomics. But unionization makes it more achievable, because another word for "risk" is "profit." Shifting risk from workers onto bosses shifts money from bosses to workers.

Monopolized employers extract monopoly rents from their customers and gouge monopoly concessions from their workers. This isn't just extra money to send to shareholders - it's also extra money to spend in the political realm, blocking reforms that benefit everyone.

That's how we get wage stagnation and ghouls like Manchin and Sinema tanking the $15 minimum wage. The money extracted from workers was sent to these politicians so they would vote to make it possible to keep extracting money from workers.

Unionization - workplace justice - doesn't win the war for political justice. But it *does* cut the enemy's supply lines, deprive them of the ammo they're using to fight us.

Image: still from "Union Maids" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74gvcvXlgnM

The Sins of Your Mistakes Weigh Heavily On My Soul

A03 Link Here

My half of a tradefic with @wildcard-rumi. This is based on my Theatre of Mirrors AU and her Takuto is Ren's Dad AU, specifically on her 'Buried Memories' series.

Go have a read of her AU, it's amazing and I love it. As for people waiting for Theatre of Mirrors don't worry, I've been busy/exhausted with other personal projects and life that I haven't really got the time/motivation to write it. But I will hopefully put something out before March!

Sumire: Hello, Dr. Maruki-San Sumire: Can you come to Leblanc today? There’s something we need your help with. Sumire: It’s about Ren.

---

Takuto stared at Sumire’s message on his phone, his fingers awkwardly tapping against the hardwood that made the Leblanc counter. It had been a while since he’d met the rest of the thieves; more than a year had passed since he’d tried to force a false reality to the whole of humanity, one where there was no concept of pain, only placid happiness in which the wildest dreams had come true. It came with a price: the stagnation of humanity, one where no one had to struggle, had to fight for what they wanted. He did it out of kindness, of course; to save everyone from the pain he experienced, from the pain his son had to endure... Looking back upon his mistake, he found it ironic that his sole reason to plunge humanity in a reality of ignorant bliss was the one who unravelled his plans at the seams.

It wasn’t as if Ren didn’t have his share of anguish, yet Takuto was too aware he had condemned his son to nothing but suffering. A clumsy night in the early hours during his time in college, Ren having to grow up without a traditional, nuclear family... Him having to witness Rumi’s death, traumatized, only then to have his memories wiped... Takuto still found the memory of Ren in the hospital room hard to swallow, the time where he’d used his Persona’s powers to alter reality, to make him happy. Reflecting upon it with his changed heart, he now realised that his good intentions would have led humanity into a Hellish existence; though he didn’t regret it one bit as he wouldn’t have reunited with his son in the first place.

He nestled the cup of coffee he had close to him, taking a sip from it, savouring the complex flavours intertwined with the tangy bitterness of the roast. Sakura-san had kindly brewed a cup for him to enjoy before closing the shop temporarily for his meeting with Ren’s friends, Takuto graciously accepting the cup and paying for it, waiting anxiously for the group to arrive. A ring of the bell caught his attention, Takuto whipping his head to see Sumire’s eyes peering from the frames of her glasses. She smiled upon seeing him, rushing into the quiet cafe followed by the other thieves before giving him a quick bow, “Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” she greeted, and Takuto laughed at her extreme politeness.

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yoshizawa-san,” Maruki laughed, “I’m not your teacher anymore, and I did come here because you asked, after all,”

He looked over to the rest of the group, the thieves minus Sumire sitting in the booths, their faces solemn as they looked away from his gaze. Takuto frowned; he had spotted Morgana quietly curled on Haru’s lap, the girl running her fingers in his fur absent-mindedly, looking worried at the cat with worry. Another sweep of the room with his eyes, distress welling inside him. Before Sumire could even speak, having noticed his panicked expression he asked out loud to the room: “Where’s Ren? Has something happened to him?”

“That’s... what we want to talk to you about,” Makoto said, yet she found it hard to look Takuto in the eyes. The feeling of unease between the thieves grew between them, the worried glances they exchanged only made him more anxious.

“What happened? Is he okay?” he stuttered, jumping from his seat, “Did he get into some sort of trouble? Is he in danger?” Each time he asked them the group winced, Sumire’s cheerful expression evaporated as she watched Takuto beg for any sort of information, each question curling the corners of her frown deeper on her face, “I need to know, please tell me: what is going on?”

“It’s... hard to say,” Ann replied to his plea, “It... he...”

“Ren’s gotta Palace,” Ryuji huffed, stoic at Takuto’s shocked reaction, “We’ve been infiltration’ it for some time now,”

“He has a Palace?!” Takuto’s eyes widened, shocked at this revelation, “W-when did he get one? Does that mean that world... the Metaverse came back? How-”

“We don’t know,” Makoto tried her best in answering him, her voice understanding at his floundering confusion, “We don’t know when the Palace had been formed, but when it did fully form it brought back the Metaverse with it,”

“And Mementos too,” Futaba added, “The whole thing, and his Shadow has been manipulating it too for his own goals,”

“Just like...” Takuto swallowed, still bewildered at this newfound knowledge, “But why? Do any of you know?”

“He has mentioned a performance of some kind,” Yusuke said, “One ‘of a lifetime’, it isn’t wrong to suspect his plans with Mementos had something to do with it,”

“Have you noticed something with the public, Maruki-san?” Haru asked him, her expression curious, “We’ve been noticing ourselves the renewed interest in the Phantom Thieves out in public, even selling Phantom Thief merchandise again,”

“I... I have,” Takuto swallowed, loosening the buttons of his coat, his hands shaking in the warm air of the cafe, “I’ve heard things on the radio about the Phantom Thieves; passengers would always mention about them to me, but I always thought it was because of the anniversary of your first heist that brought interest back. Kamoshida, right?”

Ryuji and Ann cringed at the mention of Kamoshida, Takuto immediately regretting his words, “S-so anyway, where is Ren? He has a Palace, but I assume-”

“He’s trapped inside of it,” Takuto whipped his head to look at the cat, Morgana, rising from his listless nap upon Haru’s lap to talk to him, “For some reason his shadow’s keeping him in there. No idea why, but what we do know is that he’s kept at the top floor,”

“Trapped inside...” Takuto repeated under his breath, rolling the words on his tongue as he tried desperately to even comprehend the situation. Heavy silence soon fell amongst the group. Takuto bit his lip, was he the one who caused this?

Makoto cleared her throat, snapping the room back into attention “There’s a vital area of the Palace he refuses to open up for any of us, Takuto. Anyone but you, that is, according to his shadow,”

Takuto looked at her in thought, contemplating her words, they churned in his mind. He looked at the polished floor of the cafe, his lips pursed. He curled his fingers into a fist, his chest tightened, Takuto blinking the tears from his eyes as they arose.

He looked back up at the thieves, their eyes filled with hope, pleading for him to assist them in saving his son.

“Alright, I’ll go with you to his Palace; Ren’s Palace,” he said.

---

“Is this?”

Takuto gazed at the foyer before him, watching the humanoid cognitions before him, all of them chatting to and fro, paying no mind to the thieves, all of them wearing masks. Light from the scarlet day of the outside shone wonderfully through the stained-glass windows. He gazed uneasily at the statue that nestled itself between the two ascending stairs, gulping down the stress and anxiety he felt, staring at an uncharacteristically pompous statue of his son.

“The Palace is becoming more unstable with each trial we complete,” Goro informed him, Takuto still bewildered by the mere fact that he was alive, and more importantly, helping the thieves with their infiltration, “I’d advise you to keep your wits and do whatever the shadow wants you to do, we can’t risk it prematurely collapsing,”

Takuto nodded, intimidated by the former detective, barely hiding the disdain he felt towards the former councillor. He had almost condemned the entirety of reality to one of false bliss, forcing his wants onto the entirety of reality. He also understood Goro still felt bitter towards him with erasing Ren’s memories, making him suffer, the infallible leader a mess in the confrontation of his recollections, having no way to cope with any of them. Sure, he had come out on top of them, able to power through his relieved anguish of losing Rumi, of losing his father, of having to witness her...

“It certainly has seen better days,” the bespectacled man sighed. He could still see signs of grandiose and luxury in the untended chaos of the tatters and scratches that accented each curtain and carpet, as if abandoned and allowed to rot with time. A part of him still wanted to deny the sight before him, still rationalised that nothing about this was real, that his son was back in reality, that he was safe, that this was some sick prank conjured up by his friends.

All those wishful thoughts Takuto had mustered quickly dashed when he saw the figure stood before them. Waiting.

“-And remember, refer to him as Joker, not Ren,” Goro hissed in his ear, “All we can do is appease him unless... well, I don’t suppose you’d like to end up as a corpse, would you?”

“I- Thank you, Akechi-san,” Takuto gulped, nodding in acknowledgement of Goro’s warning before turning towards his son. Though they were meters apart it felt like they were looking across the maw of a canyon. With a step, and then another, Takuto walked towards his son.

“Hello, dad,”

“Hello, Joker,” Takuto responded to the shadow’s greeting, already unnerved by his eyes, no longer grey but golden. Was this a shadow his friends constantly mentioned about, the dark, repressed side of the individual? Takuto had never gotten a chance to meet such a being, the ruler of his own distortions, he was the one who sat atop of his warped heart, ruling them with a gentle hand. He had his familiar outfit on, his will of rebellion, Takuto recalling seeing it when the thieves confronted him to change his heart. Though it was the differences that unsettled him: his dapper vest shining in scarlet red, his mask, black and golden, greatly increased the eerie glow of his eyes, “You wanted to see me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to see my own father,” Joker said, words dripping with sarcasm, “It’s been a while since we last sat down and talked, I’m really starting to miss it a lot,”

“Likewise?” Takuto said cautiously, fearful of what the shadow’ll do to him if he misspoke, “I would like to spend some time catching up with you, if that is your reason for summoning me of course,”

“It was! You know me so well, father,” Joker smiled, and hand raised and the click of his fingers, a door swung open among the foyer, “Come, come with me, we have a lot to talk about I’m sure,”

---

The theatre room led him into nothing but a featureless void Takuto discovered, empty as if he was transported to another world. The Phantom Thieves, Ren’s friends, did warn him about the possible dangers that he had to face, Takuto still willing to plunge into whatever trial Ren - Joker - wanted him to face. The shadow unnerved him yes; he reasoned that anyone would be uncomfortable with the confrontation with the shadow of a loved one, their dark, inner thoughts giving shape in a distorted environment. A ‘Palace’ the thieves called it. Walking in the directionless void he hoped deeply his knowledge of the Metaverse could aid him in whatever Joker wanted him to endure. He had to save his son from himself, and this time he wasn’t going to run away from him, Takuto told himself.

“Daddy?”

Takuto’s heart jumped in his throat, him turning instinctively towards the sound of a child whimpering in the darkness. The voice was familiar, too familiar, a beacon that guided Takuto in the dark, or a lure to ensnare him into the jaws of his doom, Takuto rushing towards it with haste all the same.

“Daddy? Where are you?”

“Ren!” Takuto shouted, clambering toward the terrified child, tripping on his own feet with every other stride he took in a desperate, maddened haste to reach his crying son. He didn’t consider the possibility of the apparition of his crying son to be a trap, only instinct carried him forward until he approached the small cognition.

Grey, watery eyes full of innocence stared back at him, the small form of Ren clutching tightly onto a distinct plush of a cat. Takuto’s heart melted as he knelt to his level to address the boy, to show him that he meant no harm, the boy shying away into the fur of his toy.

“I’m here for you, Ren,” Takuto cooed, reaching out his arms towards the frightened boy. The young Ren stopped his crying. He looked at Takuto’s inviting, outstretched arms; and then at him, Takuto gave him a smile that radiated safety and love.

“Who-who are you?” from the stuttering, fearful cognition was the reaction that Takuto did not expect, his face falling in confusion, his bemusement matched with the smaller Ren that stared blankly back at him. Takuto tenderly brushed the mess of hair away from Ren’s eyes.

“I-I’m your dad,” Takuto said reassuringly, yet the cracks of his tone betrayed the melancholic feelings that welled inside of him. To see those grey eyes gaze upon him, wide and curious and with wholly innocence broke his heart, “There’s no need to be scared, Ren. I’m here now, I’ll protect you,”

Young Ren looked at him, slightly backing away from the unfamiliar, familiar man in front of him, “I... I don’t... I don’t remember, if you’re my dad I don’t remember you! I don’t-”

“Hey, calm down,” Takuto said, yet he respected the distance Ren had put between them, “It’s alright to forget sometimes, which is why we need others to help us remember,”

“I-”

“Do you trust me, Ren?” Takuto asked the frightened child. Young Ren looked at him hesitantly, clutching the stuffed toy in his arms closer against his chest. He looked down onto the floor, pausing in contemplation.

“I... Guess so,” Young Ren mumbled shyly, eyes flickering between the floor and Takuto that reminded the bespectacled man so much about Ren in his younger years. He gestured for the child to sit down in front of him, Young Ren doing so obediently, the both of them folding their legs as they sat cross-legged on the murky floor.

“Now, do you remember anything about your father?” Takuto asked, adopting a more professional persona with inquiring the boy, “Anything at all?”

“Well, I think he wears glasses,” Young Ren started, curling his small thumb and finger before holding them up to his face, peering into the holes he had made with his hands, “They’re really big on his face. He wears them a lot, and I barely see him take them off,”

“That’s good, what else do you remember?” Takuto asks, amazed at Ren’s recollection, the boy knitting his eyebrows in concentration.

“And... He had brown hair,” Ren recalled, his hands moving to his head, “Brown hair that was really long and wavy, but not too long like a girl’s. He also had brown eyes... and...”

“And?”

“He would watch Featherman with me,” Ren said, “Every Saturday, he would wake up just to watch Featherman with me. I would always ask which Featherman he liked the best a-and he would ask me who was mine, and it was-”

“Featherman Red,” Takuto finished, Young Ren’s eyes widening, “I remember. I’ve always remembered,”

“A-and,” Ren continued, his cheeks slightly flushed against his skin, “I remember whenever he came home he would always bring apples! He’s not good at cooking them, but I didn’t mind eating them anyway, because he would always bring home the really tasty ones,”

And the child continued his recollection, Takuto’s small smile that sat on his lips grew a little wider with each detail Ren managed to recall, the excitement in his eyes growing more and more, and Takuto wondered if the child was even aware of how much he recalled. Yet whenever Takuto asked for the child of his father’s name he merely blinked at Takuto.

“I don’t remember my daddy’s name,” Young Ren shook his head, his disappointment reflecting Takuto’s, “I’m trying really hard, I am!”

“I know you are,” Takuto sighed, resting a hand upon his shoulder, giving the small child a reassuring smile. Yet, as defiant as his grown-up self, Young Ren shook his hand away.

“But, there’s one name I do remember.” Young Ren mumbled under his breath. Takuto’s eyes widened, a sudden drop of water dropped upon his head. Carefully reaching over the moist patch of his hair he looked at his fingers. Nothing. He looked up. Only the black that characterized their surroundings present. He turned to look back at the boy.

“What name is it?” Takuto asked, Young Ren squeezed his eyes shut.

“I... it’s someone close to dad,” he mumbled. More droplets of phantom liquid dripped upon him, “Someone... I.... don’t remember,” The child began to panic, “I... I can’t remember it anymore. I can’t, I’m-”

“There, there,” Takuto cooed, brushing away Ren’s tears, ignoring the storming of the invisible rain on his person that only increased in ferocity, “It’s okay. Just do like what we did with your dad, okay?”

“O-okay,” Young Ren said, trying hard to salvage a mask of bravery, looking at Takuto with red, blotched eyes “I mean... I don’t have a lot of memories of her...”

“Her..?” Takuto feared he knew who the young boy was referring to, the invisible storm now pouring magnitudes onto him, unrelenting, the liquid thumping hard against his frame, his hearing starting to be muffled by the roar of rushing water, “Ren, maybe we should-”

“She had big eyes-” Young Ren began to recite, Takuto grabbing tightly onto his shoulders, his pleas for the boy to stop falling on death ears.

“-and she was smart, and nice-” Young Ren continued, oblivious to the panicking Takuto that desperately pleaded with him to stop.

It smelled. Everything smelled rancid, like something rotten, something foul, something metallic. But it was as if Ren was painfully unaware of the speckles of red splattered on his face.

“-and, and she had red hair!”

Takuto recognised the expression the young boy suddenly snapped into, grey eyes once filled with ignorance now watered with fear and distress. The memories of the break-in, the blood, the red. The child stumbled back away from Takuto, both of them shocked that the ground seemed to ripple under them.

“Ren!” was all Takuto could utter until a shrill shriek spilled from Ren’s lips. More blood dripped down from the sky, the child turned and tripped against his feet and fell onto the ground. Takuto reached for Ren but stopped.

Rumi. Rumi was in the reflection, so many copies of her, eye wide and afraid, blood gushing from her red locks, Takuto speechless, the only sound coming from his lips were the terrified whimpers that bubbled up from his tight throat. He too soon stumbled onto his knees, his own distressed reflection mirrored back at him, Takuto’s traumatic expression staring back at him among the mosaic of Rumi’s last moments. He dared not to look at the scene above him.

“Subject one is asleep and well, Dr Maruki,”

“Was the actualisation successful?” his voice rang in his ears. Takuto blinked his watering eyes, adjusting his vision to the spotless white tiles that made up the room. The familiar, sterile smell of disinfectant stung his nostrils, Takuto barely making out the sweetness of forgotten flowers in bouquets that splashed colour among the featureless wall. He allowed himself time to collect himself; he looked at his hands, bloodless yet he swore he could still feel the liquid staining his hands.

“Yes, Dr Maruki,” the unfamiliar voice rang out. Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat, allowing himself to collect his composure and strength before he stumbled onto his feet with great effort.

Suddenly he found himself in a chair, gazing at the two figures looking over a sleeping child. One was a faceless nurse, writing on a clipboard as she talked. The other was himself, “There seemed to be no complications with the procedure,” the nurse continued, the reflection of Takuto reaching down absent-mindedly to stroke the sleeping Ren’s hair, “He should be waking up at any moment,”

“Thank you,” the other Takuto smiled, “You may go now,”

The nurse nodded before dissipating into a thin cloud of smoke, the other Takuto sighing before turning to the sitting Takuto, looking at him soberly.

“It was...” Takuto croaked, the guilt of his past mistake tightening in his stomach, “I just wanted...”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the other Takuto said quietly, turning back to the sleeping form of Ren, white-gloved hands coiling around strands of black hair. Flashes of memories flickered from within Takuto’s vision. How his son’s face contorted in anguish at the recollection of memories, how desperate he was to forget, willing to battle his friends to preserve his own ignorance, the lingering gazes, hauntings of his own psychological pain that echoed from within his own eyes, “He’s such a strong child, even when staring at the face of danger he still puts on a brave face,”

“Yeah, he really-” he feels something wrapping tightly around Takuto’s wrists. He looked down; blackish-blue tendrils slid across his skin. Panic rises from his chest and tightens his throat; he struggles against the grip of the monster binding him.

“There’s one more thing I need to get rid of,” the other Takuto murmured, Takuto futilely thrashing against Azathoth’s hold. The cognitive double approached him; eyes unblinking under the thick frames of his glasses as he watched Takuto struggle against the cognitive Persona. A click of his fingers, and the tendrils encompassed all of Takuto’s body other than his face, “This is for my patient, for my son,”

“You’re making a mistake!” Takuto’s voice cracked, his appeals to his cognitive double fruitless as he saw him snap his fingers. He felt himself pulled down by the otherwise unseen demon, his feet slowly sinking into the floor, the cognitive Takuto watching him disappear with a blank face.

“This is for his own good,” the cognitive Takuto said absolutely, his expression unmoving while he watched Takuto sink into the ground, “He needs to forget, he needs to be unburdened by the memories of her death, and that includes removing you from his life,”

“But-”

“It’s the only way,” the cognition repeated to him, the scenery around him going monochrome, the doubles skin growing paler before everything started to fade into white “We both know it’s the right way,”

“We...” Takuto croaked through the tears that started to well in the corners of his eyes, trying desperately to blink them away, tearing his eyes from his cognitive double in shame, “I was... I was foolish to think that. All it did was cause Ren and I suffering...”

The cognition said nothing.

“I should have been there for him...” he choked, the tentacles that wrapped around him grew ever tighter, “But I was a coward. I-”

He turned his head to see nothing. Featureless white. His throat tightened. There was nothing; he was stuck, yet the tendrils continued to drag him down, deeper and deeper, his breaths quickened, he was panicking, fidgeting against his bonds. It was too much, he was growing increasingly fatigued, he needed to escape, he-

“Daddy?”

Ren’s confused voice rang out, and Takuto quickly lost consciousness, his vision turning black.

---

“-he the next patient?” a voice rang out from the fringes of his consciousness, so familiar to his ears. His eyelids were heavy. Takuto wanted to sleep.

“Yes, Dr Am-” another voice accompanied the stranger. His mouth was dry. He felt sick.

“-ki, Takuto,” the first voice chuckled, Takuto dragging himself from his uncomfortable slumber, wincing in pain at the bright light that assaulted his vision.

“Who... who are-?”

Takuto jolted awake in alarm. The voice... was Ren, the grey eyes of his son looking at him, tired and heavy. His hair was slicked back neatly, his outfit a white, spotless suit, his shirt collar propped neatly around his neck. “Where am I?”

“You’re in good hands, Mr Maruki,” Ren smiled at him. It unnerved Takuto; Ren’s eyes shimmering yet empty, the curl of his lips rehearsed and forced, his voice too calm for the situation they both found themselves in, “Don’t worry. Soon your troubles will all disappear,”

Ren’s words did nothing to soothe Takuto. He looked down to where he currently sat, a white throne under him. Takuto paled.

“Patient seems to be distressed due to the loss of his son,” Ren spoke, snapping his fingers to the same featureless nurse from before, who then handed him a clipboard, “unforeseen circumstances; it seemed that the little one had died during a failed robbery-”

Ren fiddled his hair in thought, tucking a stray strand  behind his ear before continuing, “Patient seems to be in great psychological pain. Advisory procedure includes amnesia brought upon by actual-”

“Ren, please don’t,” Takuto cried, shaking his head furiously, “Please stop this madness, you’re making a-”

“Nurse, please make sure our patient here is secure!” Ren ordered the cognition, it nodded its head before lunging towards Takuto, its limbs sprouting from its form before pinning Takuto on the throne.

“Please, Mr Maruki,” Ren begged the thrashing Takuto, “Just calm down. I don’t want to cause you any more distress, the redhead was already enough trouble to treat,”

“Ren wait plea-”

A snap of his fingers. The entire amphitheatre rumbled violently, a great figure rose from behind Ren’s determined form, its golden skin and green eyes glowing in the light. Takuto sat there petrified, his mouth hung agape, his body quaked in fear, eyes wide as his forehead perspired with sweat, his mouth dry, his heart thumped with sickening speed, only able to hear it thrash in his chest as he gazed up upon the Persona who stared back at him with its unmoving face.

“Adam Kadmon,” Ren uttered his name, “You know what to do,”

A click of his gloved fingers, and Takuto’s vision was once more engulfed into black. ---

His brown eyes flickered open once more. Takuto rested his head on the featureless floor. He was back to where he started, the weird ethereal voice that Joker- no- his son had sent him to face the trial he so desperately wanted Takuto to endure. He wanted to go home, he wanted this madness to stop; he rose from the blackness, seeing that he was now palming wood, the walls surrounded him painted black while fluorescent light hung above his head.

“Was this...” he mumbled, yet the clicking of familiar heels made him snap to attention, hastily scrambling up to his feet, the shadow of his son walking towards him with hands in his pockets, golden eyes transfixed intently, emerging from the shadows of the empty room, him using his will upon the Palace they were currently in to convey his dramatic aura with persistent intimidation.

“Did you have fun, father?” Joker seethed, tongue rolling with each syllable as if the words were bitter to the taste. He looked pleased with himself, claiming his victory over his father, looking down at him with scorn, yet Takuto could see the agony that brewed in him by the quiver of his bottom lip, “I sure did, watching you flounder like that,”

“Was all of that how you truly felt?” Takuto meekly asked, watching how Joker swaggered towards him, avoiding the rhetorical inquiry from the shadow, “Everything I put you through... did you suffer that much?”

Takuto didn’t like how the corners of Joker’s mouth tugged higher, how his smile grew wider, thinner, his golden irises quivering in delight, how the white in his engulfed everything. Joker said nothing, his strides widening, Takuto’s feet firmly planted onto the floor.

“I-”

“The things I had to endure,” Joker roared, his expression unmoving yet his voice quaked with rage ill-fitting of the mask he wore, “The fights between my adopted parents, the stares and whispers I’d get from my classmates, the anguish I had to endure once I remembered. I kept-”

Joker’s facade slightly cracked, lines on his face, as if it were porcelain.

“I had nightmares” he cried, voice breaking, yet he betrayed no tears, “Nightmares from that day, seeing things that I couldn’t explain, seeing her dead, the blood... I always woke up in a cold sweat, never remembering why I was crying, I-”

Joker inched his face closer to Takuto’s with each word, stretching himself further upward, standing on the soles of his boots. What he didn’t expect from his rant was the arms that wrapped around him, the shadow pulled from his taunt into a comforting embrace, Takuto’s hand snaked to comb the strands of his unruly hair. Joker’s expression transitioned one from hate into befuddlement, feeling something hot drip down onto his grand, black coat.

“I’m sorry,” Takuto choked, bringing him in closer, undeterred by the mask poking painfully in his neck, “I’m sorry,” he repeated, grasping his son’s hair, palming it with long, tender strokes, “I couldn’t bear to look at you, you didn’t move, didn’t speak, I wanted you to get better, I thought-”

Takuto swallowed the bile that rose from his throat. He felt Joker’s body in his arms slump slightly, his head resting on his shoulder, “I’m sorry,”

The shadow said nothing, merely allowing himself to be held, his body limp, small heaves escaped from his throat every so often.

“Please, let us help you, Ren-”

The shadow snapped to attention, a hand around the scruff of Takuto’s jacket collar, tearing him away from the embrace they were locked in. In his shock, Takuto tried to escape from the grasp of the invisible assailant, only able to by slipping from the article of clothing, stumbling forward and running back to the hunched shadow, Joker’s gloved hands hiding his face. Yet as he got closer something stopped his advance; he collided into something, hard, yelping in agony as he clutched his nose, blinking to see that there was nothing in between them.

“You don’t get it, do you?” the shadow laughed while Takuto pressed his hands at the unseen barrier between them, the sound hollow, no joy in his words, “None of you do,”

The sound of trickling water filled the room, red swirled below Joker’s boots, Takuto confused and scared at the sight before him. It was like... It was like... “I’m going to make everything better,” Joker continued, peaking through the gap of his splayed hand on his face, “Heaven is nothing but a lie; I’m going to make a place where desires can truly be realised,”

“Ren, you don’t have to do this! Please,” Takuto begged, the red liquid rising rapidly up towards Joker’s hunched body, the shadow glaring at Takuto’s fearful form, “You’re making a mistake, Ren, don’t make the same mistake I did,”

“Of course I won’t,” Joker smiled as he stood up straight, the waters still rising, his facade perfect yet again, the calm on his face appearing so sudden that it terrified Takuto how easily Joker was able to slip back into calm, “I know a way to make them obey, all of them,”

“Is it true? Are you using-” the water was now up to his waist, Joker unfazed by the liquid slowly drowning him.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks,” Joker laughed, licking his lips while he watched Takuto squirm, “Not like I’ll tell you... any of you. You’ll just make everything more complicated, you’ll ruin all my plans, and the worst thing is the realisation that none of you care,”

“You’re destroying yourself in the process,” Takuto begged, his hands pressing against the glass, “Your friends have told me everything, each day your mental state is decaying further, this place is collapsing in upon itself. You’re losing yourself, Ren-”

“DON’T CALL ME BY THAT NAME,” Joker screeched, banging two of his fists onto the invisible barrier between them, Takuto clumsily stumbling back with shock, “I am not Ren, I’m not him, I am better, HIS better!” the red was now at his neck, the room shaking with invisible fury, “I will never go back to being him, Maruki, and you should realise that by now,”

“Ren-”

But it was too late, the shadow fully submerged in the red liquid, seemingly gone. Panic engulfed Takuto, him now thumping against the glass with his hands rolled into fists, desperate to save his son from the other side, “Ren!” he called out to no avail, continuing to pound against the barrier before him.

A subtle crack, and then another, then another. Takuto heard the trickling of water before he saw it, red liquid now bursting through the dam separating him and his son, the cascade of water spilling out like dominoes, and it wasn’t long for the barrier to completely break, the red torrent sweeping everything in his path up in its tide, taking Takuto with it.

---

A low rumble came from behind the theatre door, the thieves emerging from another one of Joker’s trials pitted against them, it swung from its hinges with Takuto being thrown outside of the room. He landed with an ‘oomph’ onto the carpeted floor, the group running towards him in shock and worry, though they could barely see a visible scratch on him.

“Maruki-san!” Sumire was the first to rush to his aid, kneeling next to the dazed brunette, blue flames dissipating her mask while her hands glowing with the familiar green of Diarahan, “Are you okay, are you hurt, what happened?”

“I’ll, I’ll be fine,” Takuto assured her gently dismissing her, trying hard to amass the strength to stand up on his own two feet, “I just... I just need a moment,”

“You don’t look fine,” Haru pointed out softly, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest? You look like you’ve been through a lot,”

“If it’s anything like the trials we have to endure, I’m surprised he came out unscathed,” Yusuke mumbled out loud, “Though then again, Ren is his son...”

“I didn’t do anything too taxing, haha,” Takuto weakly laughed, giving the thieves an unconvincing, weak smile, “It was... it was...”

His smile faded, his facade melted, looking down at the faded carpet below him, “I... I didn’t realise fully the pain I put him through,” he said, almost whispering, “He was suffering all that time. It’s my fault-”

“It isn’t your fault though,” Ann said earning perplexed looks from the thieves and an unamused glare from Goro, “I- I mean, it’s not just you who’s at fault here, Dr. Maruki,” she clarified, “I think we each all have something to do with making Ren’s Palace appear. We’re at fault too,”

“Yeah, it’s not like you were doin’ it for bad purposes too,” Ryuji interjected, “I mean, you did what you thought was right, right?”

“All of you are too forgiving,” Goro muttered.

Without warning the Palace started to quake, everyone thrown off from their feet as the walls started to shake, the chandeliers suspended above their heads rattling amongst the thundering rumble that consumed the premises.

“W-Why is the Palace acting up now?!” Morgana squeaked before falling onto his back, the others struggling to keep their balance, “I thought-”

“Ren’s not looking too good!” Futaba squeaked, fiddling and adjusting her headset as she looked over the information displayed by her Persona, “His vitals are falling fast!”

But Takuto didn’t pay attention to the panicked chatter of the thieves, looking down at his hands, mortified how the dull colour of the red carpet below his hands faded even further into a rotten brown. Lights flickered around him from above. It was a nightmare, the cognitive patrons screaming. He felt something small and dust-like trickle against his back.

The quake went as sudden as it came, the roar fading into deathly silent once more. Takuto peaked out from under his huddled hands that shielded him from above, eyes darting from side to side in a panic.

“W-what happened?” he asked the thieves who were trying to regain their footing, though he already suspected the answer.

“Ren’s getting worse,” Makoto answered his rhetorical question, and Takuto’s face flushed with dread. She looked at him, her eyes sympathetic behind her mask, “You should get out of here, it isn’t safe for you,”

“You’re... you’re right,” he sighed defeated, aware that if he had accompanied further than necessary, he would be nothing but dead weight. He didn’t have a Persona, no way to support the rest of the group within or outside of battles, sure to get in their way. He hung his head in defeat, carefully picking himself up from the floor, “Just... just make sure you do everything you can to save him... alright? He’s... he’s all I have left,”

The thieves nodded in response, yet their expressions conveyed the apprehensive outcome of their endeavour.

---

Ren said nothing, merely watched his shadow wandering throughout the grand space of the dressing room. His path was directionless, absent-mindedly walking in loops, circling the furniture, his stare unfocused and distant.

“Why?” was all Ren could ask, baffled by his own shadow, “Why do you keep lashing out?”

“He deserved it,” Joker reasoned, continuing his purposeless pace, the other cognitions that normally served him purposely out of sight, “They all do, Ren, why don’t you see that?”

“They don’t, they don’t, Joker,” Ren said, and Joker laughed bitterly, “You’re hurting them. You’re hurting the people I- we-”

“Did WE deserve what happened to us!?” Joker snapped at Ren, turning to him, venom in his expression, “Did WE deserve to forget Mom? To get carted off to someone else just like property, to have to endure our adopted parents and their wrath to only be thrown by the wayside, to have our father, LIE to us, to be USED by him for his actualization? DID we!? DID WE?!”

“Joke-”

“HE ABANDONED US!” Joker shrieked; the walls of the Palace quaked around him. His golden eyes welled with tears, pulsating with anguish and bitterness, “HE USED US AS A- A- A SICK GUINEA PIG! I am SICK of being used as a- as a- a- an OBJECT! Like I’m NOTHING!”

“Joker-”

“Stop denying that you feel this way,” the shadow squeaked, his red fingers intertwined in his black, dishevelled locks, “Stop it! It’s hopeless, Ren, you know that deep inside you don’t want to understand, you don’t want to forgive. That bastard-” another sob escaped from his throat, Joker choking on his tears and disgust, a familiar swell of power coursing through his being. Another shaky sigh. He could feel Ren finally coming to his senses, his lips curling upwards from the corners of his mouth, yet he barely felt any joy as he continued, “He’ll soon pay. They’ll all soon pay, and I’ll make sure that they’ll regret what they did to us.”

---

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can’t help with?”

Takuto looked at Sumire, she and Goro the only ones escorting Takuto onto the edges of the Palace’s domain. A weak, tired smile he wore as he shook his head, “I’ll be nothing but dead weight, Yoshizawa, and it looks like you all have everything under control,”

“At least we agree on something,” Goro hissed, arms crossed as he leaned his weight on one of his legs, “No Metaverse Powers or any standout physical strength. All you’ll be to us is a liability. Deadweight. A sitting duck-”

“I wonder why, Senpai,” Sumire pondered, “I mean, he should have his Persona at least, right?”

“I-”

“Regardless, I hope that I was able to help in some way,” Takuto interjected, tearing Sumire and Goro from their pondering, “But please... please save Ren,”

“We’re doing everything we can, Maruki-san,” Sumire nodded, “And if there’s any way you can help we’ll tell you, right, Akechi-senpai?”

“Actually, there is a way in which Maruki can help,” Goro mused, as he looked at the bespectacled man, “There something I was wondering about Joker’s plans,”

“You have my attention,”

Goro turned to look at the theatre before them. A moment passed, before he gazed back into his brown eyes, “I want you to see if there’s anything suspicious going on in the outside world, any changes at all in the public cognition. If you do, contact Yoshizawa, and she’ll contact me, am I clear?”

“Why? Are you suggesting-”

“Just do it,” Goro snapped, and without another word he turned on his heel, making his way back to the Palace. With an apology and a quick bow, Sumire too left Takuto alone at the cusp of the ethereal realm.

He watched them leave, disappearing into the Palace in front of him. His eyes trailed upwards. Towards the top floor of the accursed building, to where Ren was held against his own will by his own distorted thoughts.

“Hold on a little longer, Ren,” he croaked under his breath, unwilling to leave as he blinked the tears away from his welling eyes, “Just hold on a little longer, please.”

VAL and BILLIE EILISH: THE WORLD'S A LITTLE BLURRY

I shouldn’t be allowed to watch documentaries. All that any documentary seems to be about (at this point, to me) is the relationship between itself and the truth. I don’t know if it’s 2000's reality TV or that one time I watched Capturing the Friedman’s and Waco: The Rules of Engagement back to back that broke me, but what interests me isn’t the subject matter but standpoint epistemology of the thing. These two docs are very different, diametrically opposed in almost every way, but both are defined by the ways in which the text struggles against reality. Val is about an old man who used cameras (himself) to capture his entire life as he pretended to be someone else on film. He is infirm, occluding his laryngotomy tube to talk, and his handlers try to manage his naps around meet and greets where he sells the shell of the person he once was for the fans who still care. It’s forbears are archeological dead celebrity docs that try to find the elusive star at the center (Robin Williams, Heath Ledger, Amy Winehouse) and those about reclaiming memory (Alzheimer Project, Waltz with Bashir) but it’s just… he’s the cameraman and he’s still shuffling around. Closest comparison (minus the age part) is probably Kid 90, which was being cut at the same time. This doesn’t get at how weird this is, though. He used to make movies with his brother, who drowned during a seizure and haunts the movie (he would put up his brother’s drawings in shots on film sets, the talks about or around the event constantly). He often hands off the camera to people so he can be seen in his world with complex instructions (when I walk off, focus in on that speaker so when I go onstage you will hear my first line) and when the camera hits a mirror he lingers (as in the video of his newborn baby). He seems to always be performing, an aspect of life we are all familiar with by now but less common when this footage was taken. His wife is uncomfortable on camera, usually mugging or hiding, and you get the feeling the distancing from his life is intentional as he focuses on internal transformation away from ego resolution, but he still needs to be seen, his sense of self tied up in an object permanence issue. The movie is structured as someone trying to sort through memories of their life and come to terms with them, although the memories in this case is a small warehouse full of video tapes and film canisters. In his current life he can only communicate with difficulty and tries to convey reaction with meaningful-but-of-what glances and gestures. Effacement by time and looming death drench the whole enterprise - when his brother dies he says his father “lost his charisma” (just contemplate that). His current simulacra of celebrity makes him feel like a ghost, signing “you can be my wingman anytime” multiple times for people who this means something to. So he brings up the footage and tries to reconstruct his life (his credit as cinematographer is both funny, touching, and chilling). This thing is full of interesting moments. He is doing a line reading of Hamlet at Juilliard and Peter Kass stops him to ask where the performance is coming from. He responds that he has never considered killing himself which causes Kass to explode, insisting that no-one in the history of the world has not had that thought. This seems to rob us and him of a potentially revelatory moment as Kilmer seems different, spiritual in an unusual way… maybe the reason why he never thought of that was more interesting than that point. His entreaty to Marlon Brando to tell him what his earliest childhood memory is is responded to by Brando asking for him to rock his hammock with repetition of the question only yielding feedback on the rocking until neonatal-fat Brando’s satisfaction at being rocked seems like an answer. The argument with John Frankenheimer who does not want to be filmed is something else. The major things going on are here are being haunted vs feeling like a ghost and an arrested Lacanian mirror phase that complicates his intersubjective context, with the karmic

self-assessment of who he is trying to chill in the middle. The filmmaking knows this and orients itself as a process of evaluating memory where what is true seems elusive, heavily edited, and hall-of-mirrors-like. The question of what is performance is a subconscious struggle. Conspicuous in their absence are his own feelings on his decline beyond the fact that he “doesn’t believe in death,” real insight into his marriage (and breakup, other than an allusion to his method acting Jim Morrison being a problem) and relationship with his kids (who are around all the time, but seem like Sixth Sense characters), and the fact that he’s a legendary asshole on set. This last is, like, the one thing everyone knows about him. But you can sort of sense this stuff secondarily, right off the edge of the screen and in him relentlessly projecting onto his parents. The real crux is the study of a man who never feels seen, but tries to become so by disappearing into someone else, who needs recording devices so that he can capture himself properly, all controlled performance; someone unaware of his own loneliness brought about by not being very good at making himself available because his “self” is externally resolved and constant inner transformation masks the unformed nature of his ego at rest. The film accomplishes this by allowing him to reveal what is absent by his preoccupations and bearing witness to his deflection mechanisms, so that he is no closer to knowing himself but, by being manipulated in a way we can see the frame of, we kind of get a glimpse. Good experience, wish there was more Christian Scientist material (that seems like an angle of understanding the film wasn’t interested in). Billie Eilish: The World’s a Little Blurry is about a young girl who is followed by cameras capturing her entire life as she pretends to be herself on stage. She has a Simone Biles flavored psycho-physical compromise that everyone tries to “handle” while she sells herself as the person she isn’t to fans who care, at least right now. This is in the tradition of Truth or Dare mimics that seem de rigueur for female pop stars. Closest comparison is Miss Americana. This movie feels made by spreadsheet to contain scenes to develop the official narrative of an in-her-brother’s-room, in her suburban parent’s house, sui generis composite genius who is on the edge of mental unfitness trying to be as normal as she can in this crazy merry go round called fame. The obviousness of the put on is diffused by the relative lameness of the pieces. In some respects this is the typical documentary “look for the cracks for insight” play, but it is consciously using that as a tool too and doing it badly - the manufactured insight escape moments largely ring false. This comes off as a Zoom background era counterfeit, a series of YouTube clips where Markeplier or whoever lets the mask slip a little in the most forced bit of unbiddenness possible. There is a boyfriend who feels like a story mandated version of “from Canada.” But the interesting thing is the way it recapitulates the way modern pop is put together, not by writing, not by spontaneous “feel your way,” but by putting bits of ideas together and trying to emulate form. There are a lot of moments in the film that feel like they could have been real, but the non-actors were asked to do another take and can’t quite nail it. It actually has such a boner for produced casual that it is pretty much allergic to authenticity, which is quite a thing for a documentary. The major things going on are here are grappling with whether she brings anything musically to the table (the brother seems like the musical force, she’s afraid her voice is bad, they make a point to show her idea notebooks as work product), her wish to only perform if she can give the fans her best show (possibly her version of just wanting to call in sick, understandable) is at odds with her being the center of a machine that has to move, her as a product of a not entirely with it older parents who gave their kids an open creative runway

and now are instrumental in managing her as a resource that is tricky to work with, the work being her and her brother dicking around and making magic happen, and an attempt to paint her as a Beleiber who now is on the the other side of the fan dichotomy. Development of her style, arguably her #1 thing, is sort of left as her telling a video director “I drew this bleeding eye woman, can we do something like this?” and sort of suggesting through letting her point around that she is a de facto co director. At times, it feels like a try at icon forging that someone wanted to fail, but it is probably just the high school conception-to-production level tat ultimately comes off as a larger indictment of making a movie like you make modern pop music - overdetermined manipulation of flimsy elements without a satisfying ethos, that looks too be an insubstantial assemblage of spliced pieces that live of die by their stickiness. But it begins to feel, more and more, that it’s about how non-exciting pop stars can be as people and that a narrative that people respond to can kind of die if you show that’s it’s just work and somewhat normal people trying to be a piece of an illusion. It’s this partitioning away of the hyperreality and an attempt to show the official story acted by the sausage makers trying to pretend the banality is just crazy man. Where Val is a simulation of an habitual performer considering who they actually are selectively sorting their life and failing to confront the loneliness of age and death (more elusive to them than us), this is obvious hoax unintentionally (?) revealing the fabricated nature of the image-music industry by way of demonstrating the strangely normie creatives, green-yellow ombre or no, can’t be arsed to summon a proper freakout (the whining seems authentic, though). Music videos may lie to you, but the official story is strangely correct - kids living in mom’s house cobble together catchy stuff and pull off pop stardom due to social media age production savvy and a little zeitgeisty imagery, it’s just everyone is well adjusted if stressed and someone’s only donning the costume of the online archetype of a specific kind of girl. Val uses the constructed nature of these narratives as a tool wielded in the open to suggest the inner working of a mind failing to be honest with itself while the other is interesting in its transparency and failure to convince us of the loosely conceived fiction, leaving reality apparent as bong resin. Baudrillard would have liked this one more, probably.

A Double Life

A self-indulgent Daniel Ricciardo fic.

Summary: Returning to old passions results in the start of chaos and living a double life. We say we hate chaos, but the thrill is unlike anything else. 

Word count: 2698

Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple celebration, a week's retreat for all of you who were starting your four-year journey in the centre for doctoral training programme. It was merely a chance to get to know one another, have some fun, go hiking, go-karting, discuss your PhD projects and talk about the conferences you dreamed of attending.  

 It was all that and more, you made a lot of friends, ate a lot of food and had many an intriguing discussion regarding projects. It was fun, it was a celebration. However, it also turned into the start of the strangest season of your life.  

Obviously, with there being a large group of 20-somethings, a majority of the week was spent on the karting track. With the number of people in your cohort, you could only go onto the racing track a group at a time, meaning there was a healthy amount of watching and betting who would be fastest around the track. Now you had always loved go-karting; you’d raced pretty seriously until you were around ten years old but having to move for your dad’s job meant stopping. After a few years, all you could manage was going with your friends and family on the odd occasion. However, after that move, your parents had always pushed you into other sports like martial arts and swimming.  

 Being back on the track for the week was invigorating and you were loving every second of it. It was like muscle memory to you, you could feel the addictive feeling of speeding round the track trying to beat your previous times rushing back. That, and you were consistently seconds, tens of seconds, faster than everyone else. An ego boost was always welcome, you hadn’t lost the knack for driving then. 

 It didn’t take long for the track staff to take notice of this high-speed consistency you had been producing. As was customary in such an occasion, the ‘emergency scout signal’ was sent out to racing team. Any time new talent arrived, the so-called bat signal went up for the scouts to come and investigate.  

 Scout they did. They came to lurk around the track and see if there was a fuss to be made. Day after day, a larger crowd of people in suits and various uniforms, carrying clipboards, huddled at key corners of the track and by what you could call the ‘stadium section’. Every time you were stood trackside you had a clear view of their furious note taking, a curious sight you thought.  

 Apparently, they were impressed enough by what you could do in a standard hire go-kart that you were approached for a drive assessment. At least that was what they said. You, being naïve, gave them your number anyway – reasoning the worst thing to come of it is some dodgy cold calls.  

 At the end of the week you went back to university. You went to classes, you started reading up on your project, you did your lab training. Life, initially, carried on as normal.

 Until it didn’t. 

 They did phone you, and they were really looking for you to do a driver’s assessment. They booked a time for you to come down to Silverstone, organising for a range of cars being brought down for you to test on the track of your home grand prix. They sent you a pack of documents to read, health forms and things of the like. You had six weeks to prepare.  

 In those six weeks you also had four assessed presentations and a draft project introduction to write for your confirmation paper. By the time your trip to Silverstone was near, you had been in overdrive trying to cram the information packs they’d sent, hoping and praying you’d remember enough.  

 You couldn’t believe the number of people who had come to watch you drive in circles in a simulator and then on a track.  Apparently ‘a scout’ meant all the teams that wanted to watch, and if they liked you, try to out-bid the other teams. You thought all this for one person seemed excessive. You met so many people, you couldn’t possible keep track of names and who was who. There were actual talent scouts, team principals, radio engineers, mechanics and random people whose job was a mystery. Everyone who was anyone seemed to be there. Was this normal? 

 Once you got the hang of the simulator and remembered which button did what, you grew to really enjoy the race simulator. Getting to wear all the kit was extremely exciting, as it had been so long for you and after an hour or so on that, you were grinning from ear to ear. You couldn’t help but think that no matter what happened at the end of the day, you were having the time or your life right now. You felt like that ten-year-old winning her karting league, all over again.  

 You were experiencing a sort of déjà vu as turned to look at those sat around you. Just like at the karting track, people were furiously scribbling notes onto clipboards, motioning to team members and communicating in hushed voices. You sat patiently waiting for your next instructions. Finally, someone had a new task. 

 “Get her in a Formula 3 car. Let’s see her on the track.” You recognised this man from the track but you were still somewhat confused as to who he worked for. 

 Still in your borrowed gear, they helped you into the car, double and triple checking you knew what was where, even though you had been cramming this information for weeks. With a final nod they wheeled you out the garage and onto the track. The lights went out and you were off. 

 "Incredible.” The most common comment uttered, repeated over and over again. You had collected several impressive lap times.   

 “Get a few drivers out there, see how she copes.”  

 With his command, three test drivers that were here for a nosey suited up as quickly as possible, getting out on the track to provide a comparison to your driving and see how you reacted to sharing the track. It’s all well and good being a good driver but if you can’t compete, you won’t get a seat. 

 “I was not expecting this.” 

 You obviously weren’t leading the pack, no one expected you to given your experience. However, you were holding your own in the group, something that wasn’t a guarantee. 

 “Do we have an F1 test car?”  

“You’re kidding.”  

“No, do we have a car?”  

“She’s not even got a super licence!” 

“Look at those corners – she’s not driven competitively in a decade and she’s making those, imagine what she could do with coaching.” 

A voice was raised from the back of the crowd.

“Why bother, there’s not been a female driver at that level for 40 years, there won’t be one now. She might make F2 with a lot of help, but she’ll go no further.” 

“Talent has no gender. If she can drive, and there’s a seat, she will.”  

 You were no less shocked than the others at being given a shot in an F1 test car, and knew this was going to be a once in a lifetime drive. You knew you had to pull out a good few laps, take some risks, and that you did.  

 After that drive, many teams were interested in you, unfortunately not many had seats for the next Formula 3 season. With a seat becoming available unexpectedly, you began discussions with Prema racing, as well as being welcomed onto the Mercedes development drivers’ squad. There had been the need initially to have a conversation with both the team and your university speaking about the commitments each required and seeing very few instances for overlaps, agreed to support you.

 That was the start of the chaos. 

 What you soon discovered was that doing a PhD and training to become a Formula 3 driver at the same time was no joke. And by no joke you meant two more-than-full-time jobs at the same time was exhausting. You joked that you barely had time to sleep but that wasn’t too far from the truth. Routine was your new best friend. Every minute of every hour of every day was planned and had to be kept to as much as possible. If you didn’t stick to your routine at all, you genuinely didn’t feel like you had time to sleep. 

 With the size of cars used in track racing, a normal driver’s licence wasn’t going to cut it, as you discovered during one of the initial meetings with your new team. 

 “You need a super licence before we can get you legally on the track to race.” 

“Do I need to parallel park?” Was your immediate response. 

“No?” Several of the team management seemed confused. 

“Awesome when can I do it then?” 

 You’d proved you could drive the cars, you just needed to do it with the right person watching now. 

 --- 

 With your contracts signed rumours began to circle. With your new-found team being one of the best, regularly the best, in formula 3, there was a large interest in how you would fair. Would you crash and burn under the pressure? How could you just jump back into racing? It was uncommon, if not unheard of, to have a racer re-join after a decade of being uncompetitive, let alone a racer who had a second job. Your own team wondered if would you be able to balance the two lives?

 In an attempt to raise more publicity for the formula 3, potentially the formula 2 circuits, as well as capitalise on the interest shown in your career as a driver, a show was going to be produced. You had always hated reality TV shows, and yet you were now set to be the star of one. Oh, the irony. 

 Formula three has eight rounds between May and September, so the first, and potentially only depending on how this year goes, season of ‘your’ show, would focus on the changes needed to turn you from PhD student to racing driver. It would join you at the start of your training, finding a performance coach come personal trainer, finding your feet in racing politics, learning the ins and outs of your car better than you knew yourself, and then when May came around, follow you through your races. 

 With the amount of time you were due to spend being filmed, which was effectively your entire life, it was impossible to not become close friends with the crew. At times you weren’t sure what you would’ve done without them. You would occasionally have moments of feeling swamped and overwhelmed. With the amount of lab work you had on, as well as physical training and everything else that came with preparing for the upcoming season, you were constantly running from city to city and track to track for testing. 

 You’d always been a big believer that friendships that didn’t need constant contact were the true lifelong ones, but it became your reality. You simply couldn’t text people at all hours of the day and you could feel a few people dropping out of your circle of friends and there was little you could do about it. Your crew was like a little family and they were your constants, your rock.  

 One of the weirdest things for you was having no one at the university, with the exception of your supervisors, have any clue what your other job was, and no one in F3 outside of your team knew that you had a second job. Both knew you were being filmed for a show but neither fully understood the extent or reason why. With that meant that both were complaining about you ‘not taking things seriously enough’. If only they could see your schedule you thought every time you overheard one of those comments. You had originally thought it easier to keep things separate, wanting to succeed on merit over anything else.

  Whilst you were so very close to your crew, there were times you needed a different perspective on things, especially with how people were talking. Frequently you would complain about those comments to your mentor, a luxury you had as a result of being a part of the Mercedes development drivers’ squad. It was one of the less well-known perks, with the aims to support drivers in all areas of the racing world with someone who’s been through it all. That was yet another whirlwind for you. Your mentor, one who’s definitely been round the ringer, was THE Lewis Hamilton. Like world champion Lewis Hamilton. Lewis Hamilton had the time of day (or night as it often was) to let you complain to him about people being bitchy. Initially, you were terrified; who were you to bother him and ask silly questions? Lewis seemingly knew this and kept organising times to meet with you on your off weekends.  

 Some weeks he would just have you over to his place in London for dinner, others it would be karting trips or fashion shows. All sorts of activities to connect with you. Lewis made it clear that he wasn’t here to be a middle man for management, keeping an eye on you, he was here to be a friend and to help you to be the best person you could be. Honestly, he had a lot of older brother vibes and you were very on board with it. You could ring him late at night, stressed about lab work and he would sit and listen to you – nothing to do with racing, but it was a part of your life and he was there to support you. Your friendship with Lewis was natural, almost like kindred spirits. The two of you were very in tune with each other and it wasn’t long until you were welcomed in as a part of the family.  

 After eight months of intense studying, training and testing, you boarded a flight to Spain, ready to take your maiden drive in a supercar. As fate would have it, being scouted in September just prior to the end of the last season, seemed to provide you a good, if slightly tight, amount of time to prepare and allow them to get you into the car for the next season. You were obviously nervous but feeling ready to get out there and prove that you deserved that seat, deserved to be driving for Prema. You’d been spending a lot of evenings in the simulator so you were feeling okay with knowing your racing lines so the main source of your nerves now was what the other drivers were like. You were happy with your teammates having met them at testing over the summer, you knew the three of you would have fun throughout the season. Lewis was there to remind you that friends were a by-product of racing and bonus, you just had to do your job first.  

Lewis’ impact on your racing experience was invaluable. He was so supportive of you throughout those last few months of pre-season training and really helped to give you the best start to your season. Lewis was also sweet enough to come and see how you were getting on throughout the weekend, with the F1 Spanish Grand-Prix being the same weekend, although it was well into his season. You really appreciated his support, especially with all the extra pep talks he was giving you.  

 What a start to the season it was as well, race 1 saw you enter the points and race 2 had even larger improvements with a top-five finish. You were thrilled, Lewis was chuffed for you and your bosses were certainly happy with the start of your season.  

 Things looked good. Your season was off to a great start and thankfully it didn’t overlap with any studies; plenty of time to memorise data and racing lines and plenty of times to prepare for your confirmation paper. Your double life was finely balanced but you seemed to have the will to keep things in check. 

Part 2

Movie Night at a Giant Wizard’s Tower

A (mini) Tale of the Mystic Woods

A short story featuring the Half-Giant Wizard Yonah, his student the Princess Sophia, and a bunch of his wizard friends! Based on the one word prompt “MIRROR”

Content Warnings: NONE!

This story is purely GT! Short and sweet and comedic! ---

“T MINUS 10 MINUTES PEOPLE!” Sophia called. “Loud much? My ear is right there!” The moment Yonah stepped through the doorframe had projected her voice across the massive kitchen as she stood on Yonah’s shoulder. And she didn’t need magic to do it. Thank you princess training. She got an affirmative response from the stove where Avshi Mersberg and Elisheva Tor were making batches of popcorn. “You’re just sensitive!” she chided, patting his forehead as he walked over. “It’s almost as if being a half-giant means I have better hearing than a human” he mused, “Amazing how that works” “And worse eyesight?”  “No comment” he adjusted his thick rectangular glasses. 

The popcorn was just about done. Several large bowls full. They had the classic cheese, garlic and butter, sea salt and sugar, and a few more interesting flavors. A smorgasbord of puffed kernels in a rainbow of labeled bowls!

While it was an impressive amount, but at over 23 feet tall it was barely a mouthful for Yonah. They hadn’t bothered to make it in that kind of quantity. The towering jar of kernels rested on the counter and Yonah stopped to take a small handful. Cupped his hands together His eyes flared up with fire. Power surged through his hands. It was… less of a pop and more of a firework crackle as smoke escaped through his fingertips. When he opened his palms he had a large handful of popped corn. Several bits fell to the floor, in his hands it looked like odd pebbles. “Show off!” Eli said, pouring the final batch into a wooden bowl stained a deep purple. But if she was half-firewitch she would have done the same.  Yonah just smiled as he brought the still burning hot corn to his face. It didn’t smell particularly appetizing, it was unseasoned. There was a reason they were making it by stovetop. Yonah didn’t exactly want to cover his own hands in oil and salt, and his friends didn’t want to eat popcorn that had so much contact with his bare hands. Still he munched on it quite happily. In that moment he was both the tween girl offering sugar cubes to a barely broken stallion and the stallion itself eating out of the girl’s hands. “Want some?” he paused to hold up what was left to Sophia. “Ugh no way! These are covered in your slobber!” She pushed the hand away He shrugged and she was unbalanced for a moment. “I’ll take some!” said a voice from the space above Yonah’s head. A mass of dirty blond curls fell across his face. A human reached down from his head to snatch at the slightly slobbery pile as he brought it back to his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed they were there!  “GAH!”  Yonah nearly dropped the popcorn, which have been a bitch to clean up. Would have, if he didn’t have magic.  But he didn’t drop any as Noam Berkowitz was pulled back onto his head by her brother Noah. “How many times have I told you two not to do that?” he reached up and playfully fought the pair with his fingers. “Do what? Sneak up on you? We figured you could smell us!” with his keen hearing he knew that was Noam. “You know it doesn’t count when I already know you’re here!” Normally he COULD smell their presence. Giants have an unnaturally acute sense of smell. Even as a half giant, Yonah’s olfactory awareness made their hard learned thief skills useless around him. But that was when they hadn’t been hanging around for the past hour, their scent blending into the rest of the smells of the tower, the rest of the humans, and now the overpowering garlic. Sophia rolled her eyes. Despite being a half a decade to a decade older than her (and she being 21), these wizards were rather childish. The bowls of flavored popcorn were loaded onto a plate. Avshi and Eli scrambled up Yonah’s arm to sit on his other shoulder and he picked up the plate, carrying it and his friends to the living room where everything else was set up. Sitting on the couch were the rest of the humans. The rest of the usual Crew: Mica Cohen, Shoshana Jaffe, and Zohar Levine , and also Sam Kahnt. They set up an array of cushions and bean bag chairs. As the ones who were there first, they chose the best spots. Well, nearly. The best spot couldn’t be set up ahead of time. “So, bring us up to speed!” Sam asked of Sophia before she had even disembarked from the giant wizard. “There’s a recap! And you missed a lot of episodes!” she retorted. Yonah released his riders and pulled up the ottoman to press against the couch. Propped up on a giant pillow was a very plain mirror. Plain for a magic mirror that is. It was still finely made and framed with a twisting pattern of silver. Yonah gently touched the frame, not wanting to get fingerprints on the polished surface. “Mirror Mirror with silver border reveal to us the Silken Breath Order” The mirror went foggy, the loading buffer processing the request and verifying their subscription. It wasn’t inexpensive, but having the subscription cast on such a large mirror had increased the price. The first notes to the theme song for Ice Princess started to play. The title card held in front of a mirror a thousand miles away and then removed to show a this days performers dancing to the familiar choreography that Sophia had long ago memorized, and instinctively got up to dance in time to. As the theme ended and the stage fell to shadow another card fell across the view. “Ice Princess, A Silken Breath Production, Is Brought To You By The Slayers Cake! Makers Of Fine Pastries And Swords For Hire. Whether You Need Scores of Crullers For That Last Minute Wedding For Your Recently Rescued Darling Or An Experienced Fighter To Rid Your Town Of A Rabid Eldritch Monster, The Slayers Cake Can Do It All!” The card changed. “Previously On Ice Princess” A series of beautiful paintings accompanied by narration were shown, recapping the last episode before. It was a lot. Sam looked a bit lost. “And Now Without Further Ado, The Order of the Silken Breath give you Episode 103 of Ice Princess” During the advertisements Yonah placed a large pillow behind everyone to lean on, took a pinch of the powder at his belt and shrunk down to join his friends. It was mostly to watch the show on a giant mirror. But also...  Once situated on his favorite cushion Sophia took the bowl of garlic popcorn and her place in his lap. She leaned back into his soft chest and he leaned forward, squishing her a bit more. 

Best seat in the house. — Everyone was silent as a inoffensively dark red colored card was lowered into view. They blinked for the first time in several minutes. Intermission. Sophia had to shake her head to bring herself back to reality. “What the FUCK!” She turned to her left to see a stunned Shoshana, who had frozen with a handful of popcorn, most of it fallen into her lap. Her frizzy light brown hair had seemed to puff up even more over the course of the last two hours. “Did, did Freddy fucking DIE?” was the first thing out of her mouth. “And they LEFT THE BODY!” Sophia pointed out as Yonah lifted her out of his lap. He stood up and stretched and hopped off the couch, returning to his normal size. Then offered his hand for anyone who needed to use the toilet to climb up and headed off to the restroom. They had thirty minutes before the second half of the episode. Before heading back they stopped by the kitchen to refresh the snacks. This time in quantities that Yonah could eat at his normal size without consuming it all in one bite. Just last night he and Sophia had made a batch of GAZ. A sort of lightly sweet nougat full of nuts! Now it was set and ready to be enjoyed. When he returned, friends on head and shoulders, snacks in hand, it was clear the three left behind had barely noticed they were gone. “Bit shitty of the writers!! They just got to the lab! I thought we’d get at LEAST a few episodes exploring it! There were so many things there worth investigating and now! FUck! It’s all gone!” “How are they gonna get back to it? They didn’t find the Princess! She’s there right? Right?” “Get Back? That explosion caused it to cave in, There isn’t anything to fucking go back to!” “No way it’s actually destroyed, but that jungle guardian isn’t going to be easily to get past. Shit that thing was scary!” “The puppetry was amazing. Holy crap if I didn’t know better I’d have thought it was an illusion!” It didn’t really matter who was talking, they stopped when Yonah put down the food and friends. “Last call to use the restroom!” He announced as took away the cushions. No one had to go, but they all scrambled away as he lay down on his side.

Now he took up the entire couch. But that didn’t mean there was nowhere to sit! Once comfortable everyone climbed onto him. Zohar nestled into the crook of his arm. Avshi perched on his shoulder. Noah and Noam sat between his arm and the right side of his face. Not having been fast enough, Mica, Shoshana, and Sam sat up against his arm. Sophia lay on his head, making a nest in his thick black hair. In Yonah’s opinion (and objective truth): Watching a Fantasy Soap Opera while eating sweets and adorned in friends was the best way to spend an evening.

[Thanks for reading if you liked this PLEASE REBLOG and/or tell me what you think in an ask/message!]

Liked this Mystic Woods story? I have more! [but be warned, many stories contain/mention safe/soft non-sexual v/o/r/e lucky for you! i have filed them them separately! and (when needed) Every story comes with detailed content warnings!]

For GT ONLY stories: gt-adventures.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story

For ALL mystic woods stories: vo/re-scientist/tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story (take out the “/” in vo/re) 

[a few of my GT-ONLY stories are on my not so secret vo/re blog but from now on I’m posting the GT-ONLY ones here! hurray!]

adfjghlkjfhgd she is my #1 fan...i’m just that cool...

hahahahah i diiiiiid know that... they broke up quite a while ago (2017? 2 lazy 2 check her ig and confirm) and he’s dated people since, but it’s definitely funny to see them on hypothetical with that in mind, for example! i’m glad it seems they’re still kind friends

thank you anon! i have definitely seen people say good things about it, so when i have time i might branch out. i tend to use my free time for this blog and my main, but next time i have a long cab ride i might check it out...

i did of course i did!!!! simon farnaby stan forever!!!! paddington is god! shoutout to @idiots-assembled for running such an amazing, quality blog!

hahaha anon! well dara is known for doing a lot of maths and science programmes, and brian cox is also a scientist and tv presenter, so that’s where they cross paths in people’s minds. you’ve probably seen jokes like this one, right? the jokes are either that they are in love oooor they’re rivals — but what’s better than a little love and hate?

i loooooooooove graham nortoooooooon ahhh his was actually the only british programme i was ever able to get my family into! my mom still texts me on the weekends to tell me how funny he is after a new episode, and she bought me one of his autobiographies for christmas, hah! he is good egg 10/10

haha his positive energy is what makes him miles! and one of our beloveds! i’m so glad you all are enjoying radio panel shows! there’s so many comedians who aren’t deemed tv-able who get to shine on those programmes and i love that — and ofc the news quiz specifically since it’s always working to be more inclusive :’)

i genuinely have no idea who it is... there was a time i thought i had a decent clue, but i was really just projecting my own opinions onto him lmao who do you think? with tea there must come shade >:)

sure!

(i feel a little weary voting myself since i haven’t listened to all the other potential contestants, but good luck to all!)

i do wonder because i would loooooove to see her on tm! i wouldn’t hold my breath because she is very busy with bakeoff, qi, and her other writing, but i do think she gets a real kick out of hanging out with other comedians she respects. i also wouldn’t hold my breath for a “best of” kind of special; alex has said a couple times it’s never good when you can predict everyone will do well or everyone will do badly. i think he thinks that mix of responses and techniques is what makes the show so suspenseful, you could say, and therefore engaging! i think i agree with him, but i would be lying if i said i didn’t want to see, like, roisin, joe wilkinson, paul, nish, and liza tarbuck try and nail a team challenge. the chaos! it could be the end of taskmaster as we know it!!!

aww anon thank you 😚 it’s so nice everyone wants to have fun watching panel shows with me, i’m so grateful!

hey anon, i have answered something similar to this a few times! it really just takes a lot of exposure, i guess, but i’m definitely well past that point now, thankfully! :)

that is so surprise to me at all. there are ways in which you can you can tell he is a sensitive person who wants the best for people, especially in “real life” (i think i gathered this from his politics tbh); i’d also want those people around me since they’re all so unique, positive, and supportive. i think it speaks to the kind of person frankie is, really!

desiree burch isn’t one of my personal favourites, but i can see how as an american there are certain britcom dynamics and environments she can’t properly integrate into...that is sort of the nature of being a foreigner! of course there are more specific criticisms to her i’m sure you could argue, but it’s always going to be hit and miss depending on the show, the panelist, the other panelists, the topics, etc. *cute shrug*

the short answer is no, i really don’t... game shows have an absolutely different (and often negative) reputation in the states, for one: celebrities who appear on any reality or game show are considered desperate for work (this is excluding shows like lip synch battle and SNL) and these types of programmes are considered daytime tv or kind of trashy. i thought the fix on netflix might bridge the gap a little but i’m not sure it did. it doesn’t seem to suit american comics to sit around and shoot the shit about serious topics; in a way, that is what podcasts are for. americans fall flat doing one-liners waaaay more often than british comedians unless that is part of their persona. katherine ryan is a great example of a non-british comedian who has nailed really short bits or quick jokes with great delivery that always lands — without feeling too performative. but a part of the issue is that american audiences like comedy that is performative, that is bombastic, that is a segment (i’m not trying to quantify all americans’ tastes, i am referring to the majority that determines whether something gets to achieve mainstream success). that is not good for panel shows; catsdown is very lucky is has a mascot segment at the beginning because it pretty much ends there (RIP room 101). this is likely the reason taskmaster us didn’t make it past one season. it’s just too subtle; it’s not understandable or able to be summarised in a one-minute clip. i just don’t think the market exists... but if you disagree, i’m interested to hear why!

any time anon! it’s tooooo sweet! i hope you got a chance to listen to the radio version too, it cracks me up :’)

aw, you’re welcome from over here in nyc! let me know if you ever need help finding something

f.a.q. // tags // watch links masterpost

push vs pull

the other day i became angry at a webpage that popped up a non-dismissable modal. ordinarily when this happens i shrug and pop open devtools and move on my way (i also did that), but my rage stemmed from the fact that the modal was preventing me from viewing my own profile data. as the morning wore on, i stopped to reflect about why it angered me and what it meant (if anything).

First, I want to address a point before it comes up: many appeals against dark patterns are emotional (as the patterns themselves evoke strong reactions from people tricked by them). I want to suggest that if you are a numbers oriented person, needlessly wasting your user's time is a failure of product even if doing so suggests increased engagement. The rest of this post is about repurposing the terms "pull" and "push" to describe who is prioritized in an interaction. If you want an emotional appeal against dark patterns, consider that you are robbing your users of their agency.

Secondly, i want to make clear that i get that everybody has their reasons. I'm writing this because the whole field of user-centered design stresses elevating the needs of your users but the legitimate realities of "doing business on the internet" are often at odds with users spending less time with your product.

later in the day i found myself rereading the optimization principles in The Toyota Way.

Principle 3

Use "pull" systems to avoid overproduction.

Here this means that a participant in a production system should request (pull) as much as it needs rather than reacting to a stream of supply pushed to it. One of the benefits of stressing "pull" over "push" is that it prioritizes the person doing the pulling over the system that is being pulled from (often commodities).

you can think of this like the distinction between "can you work on this right now" vs "when you finish up this project, just pick up one of the ones labeled ~~~~." if somebody is saying that to you, the second phrase lets you add new tasks to a pipeline whereas the first disrupts your existing task.

Principle 8

Use only reliable, thoroughly tested technology that serves your people and processes.

Technology is pulled by manufacturing, not pushed to manufacturing.

anyone that has ever used enterprise software can sympathize with this: you were doing your job and then somebody with an expense card–not you–decided to make everyone use ENTERPRISE PRODUCT for SOME TASK and so now you need to both use it and integrate into your existing workflow even though the prior workflow may have had no apparent drawbacks (i get that new products are often purchased to remedy disparate ad-hoc and chaotic workflows).

the flipside to this is a team that asks for money to use some service/product/software/whatever because it knows it to be a useful benefit. for instance, when a team asks to use figma or babel-js or slack, they are pulling that technology because they envision that it will help them—they don't need to be sold on it, they want it.

who moved my cheese?

when people design features that impose upon their users it's easy to see some design that was pushed. a parallel of this is designing software with a breaking api change, that pushes a new way of working onto the library's conumers. Perhaps it was possible to do something before, but for whatever reason that same outcome requires some new or different step, that Improved Feature™ will no longer feel like a feature, but instead like a regression or an annoyance.

you can think of word processors as additive in that their feature-set is largely pull-oriented. from the outset, you can begin with plain text, or progressively add formatting, or add footnotes, update margins, etc. Few of these additional changes break the original act of writing, they instead expand the choices possible. If you've never used a pivot table in excel it doesn't matter because you can still use excel to do your regular spreadsheet work but the pivot tables are there for you if you ever need them.

in his 2016 clojure conj keynote, rich hickey describes this variety of additive behavior as a sort of accretion of a library's featureset or a relaxation in its behavior (in opposition to the more standard behavior of requiring more or providing less which causes breakage). When you change or break of a library or product, even by just replacing the behavior of a prior functionality with a new one, you are imposing upon your consumers a new approach to working rather than allowing them to decide if a new approach would benefit them. You are pushing technology to your customers rather than allowing them pull it from you.

and for products, the reasons for embracing push-like behavior are many: if a user needs to accept a new license agreement, you may need a push-mechanism in order to gate further use of the product. if your business is crumbling, you may start relying on push behaviors to manufacture engagement, to collect data, or to rate-limit freeloaders (looking at you, tumblr and gsuite). if you are in something of a commoditized space, you may push proprietary data structures, hardware, or non-standardized technology in order to manufacture lock-in. Or perhaps it's just a financial choice for your team: it's more expensive to maintain two things than one. It's easier for you to make this change because it saves you time at the expense of your customers who are required to adapt to it.

as a service provider pull-oriented mechanics are not exactly compelling in a business case: they have the capacity to incur very uncertain costs for you and they always expand your scope of maintenace. Instead of maintaining some plateau of features, you are always caring for more things, responsible for an increasingly larger surface area, responsible for backwards compatibility.

worse, pull-oriented services that accrete features require you to make a compelling case for any new feature set that is merely a repackaging of existing behavior. It is more difficult to advocate for a hobbled feature when a more capable progenitor sticks around.

dark patterns

dark patterns in web design exist in this fascinating middle-ground because they don't often block user-actions, instead, they take advantage of traditional user-flow mechanisms to misrepresent the meaning of a button or checkbox. they use your desire to perform one action to engage you in a separate one. they are reviled because they collect data during vulnerable moments or hobble freeloading engagement, trading your ability to see another page of content for your more valuable email address or phone number.

dark patterns that slow or limit functionality simply need to create enough curiosity to engage with the initial gate or desire to fulfil the final outcome. or, they rely on an extrinsic force to motivate the user along the final steps of an 'engagement chute'—just accept the eula.

But even dark patterns can be push vs pull: offering a discount is different than limiting site functionality. Forcing a user to scroll through pages of license agreement is onerous, or they could email you the eula and mark the accept button as not disabled. dark patterns rely on the unintended consequences of a common action to motivate some non-obvious opt-in. users hate push-based dark patterns (which, see anyone trying to cancel their nyt subscription or trying to browse pinterest or twitter loged out) but feel remarkable delight at receiving a eula in their email to read later while they accept its terms right now.

what people dislike about enterprise software is not that the software is necessarily bad (say what you will about git but people choose to use it)—the disconnect between the choice of using the software and the employer-driven mandate of compliance, having software pushed onto you is the defining quality in enterprise malaise. Add to that an application that pushes capricious choices to its users and you have a recipe for disaster.

people talk a lot about "pushing some new changes out" to customers and it's almost always framed as a positive, but i think it's worth considering whether or not user-centered design should instead strive to create compelling new toolsets that their customers want to pull from. this is a harder product challenge for many teams because it requires creating an alternative that can stand on its own alongside a product that has an established track record. It's hard to convince somebody to give you more time/information/attention to keep doing what they were doing already, but not making that case and forcing a poor interaction is arguably worse.

additive changes aren't controversial either, they are often deployed without affecting the core experience of the product. a new option does not need to affect existing behavior if it provides a more robust tool for users pull from, but it is worth being honest about why we introduce disruptive changes when they have real impacts on the people who use applications.

in a world of a/b testing and metrics-aided design, it seems controversial to assert that users don't want to be experimented on but designers delight in aesthetic redesigns, color palette rethinks, and talk at length of tweaking their user-base's habits. experiments like these create new forms of interaction that are pushed to users who often desire the stability of a technology they previously pulled from.

alpha/beta programs appear to provide some relief, instead they give users a chance to trade workflow stability for a peek at tomorrow's feature-set or giving them a chance to educate themselves about the reality of their future workflow. but despite best intentions, the presumption remains that end-users are the onse that need to adapt. in the craze for ui and preference-pane kon-mari, we throw our users's precious time by the wayside to satisfy our aesthetic demands each time we remove something we dislike or introduce a breaking change we frame as an "improved workflow".

more importantly, every non-additive change that is pushed to a user will always be an imposition. the more disappointing trend is that so many design-driven industries claim 'empathy' alongside 'user-focused design' as their core values but remain resistant or hostile to developing options that their users can choose to pull from, often at the unstated expense of their customer's time, attention, or goodwill.

Coronavirus is Retribution for Overprocreation, Mass Pollution and the Rampant Abuse of Animals

Yeah, Charlie. Everyone is making a big deal about this coronavirus business. Everyones talkin’ about it. They’re makin’ a big deal about it. But I say, take it easy. There’s no need to panic. Why bother? The way I see it, you’ve already been amply warned, on numerous occasions, to change your disgustingly self indulgent reckless behaviors, and, over time, it’s become abundantly obvious, that you’ve decidedly chosen to ignore these warnings. Thus, predictably, the chickens have come home to roost; and so now, your goose is cooked. So, what’s the use of crying about it now? And I know. You did whatever you had to do, to take whatever it was you thought you needed at the time, at whatever the cost, and, that is what it is; and nobody can do anything to change what you did. That’s fine. You did what you did; but now, I’m doing it to you. And don’t act like your so fucking surprised. You did what you did, and now, I’m doing it to you.

“But why, Sage? Why?! I’m not totally clear what you’re talking about.”

Alright. We’ll pretend you’ve been living under a rock for the past 30 years, and you need a consolidated crash course on the causality of the current conditions. I’ll, once again, reiterate that which was trying to be impressed upon you. And I’ll do so with extreme guarded restraint and barely contained tolerance; as, at least in the view of the higher mind, you’ve already been extended way more then enough opportunities than you deserve. So even just the mere speaking of these very words, without subsequent infliction of immediate severe punitive retribution, is an exercise of pure bridled discipline.

So, point blank. There’s three major quandaries. Three things are at issue, and they are all based in the ongoing abuse of freedoms that, apparently, you are much too irresponsible, greedy and immature, to handle properly. Each issue is a topic unto itself, and each issue enables the other two; a trilateral symbiotic dysfunction of sorts, but we won’t be delving deeply into the details of each topic today; that type of an explication being reserved for, perhaps, a future video. Today, we’ll just be discussing the conditional generalities surrounding the subjects, and how these issues will be deeply effecting you in these last days of the old era. And these issues are: over-procreation, mass pollution, and the widespread abuse of animals; culminating into an overcrowded cesspool of filth and suffering. All of this, of which, is courtesy of the organisms who’ve been touted as the most intelligent creatures on the planet. This is the best they can do. So vastly intelligent, yet they can’t even figure out how to implement existential core basics, like updated standards of moderation, sanitation and common decency, and a working knowledge of how to maintain these aspects as important fabrics of a civilization.

So the report card is in, and unfortunately, you’ve failed on all fronts. Sorry.

1. You are having entirely too many children, and for no good reason, other then your own myopic selfishness, and some desperate irrational need to conform to the expectations of the herd.

2. You are producing way too much pollution and waste, both individually and collectively, and are not taking one bit of responsibility for managing, or reducing it, nor are you producing the more efficient alternatives, which ARE available, by the way.

3. You are an active participant in the horrific systematic abuse of animals, on a mass scale, which continues on unabated every single day, as you go about your life acting as if all that suffering, which is occurring just out of the field of your personal consciousness, doesn’t matter.

Those are the charges being leveled at you. And I don’t want to hear any excuses. This is all completely unacceptable, and it’s going to be corrected, under pain of death, or your circumstantial devastation. Mankind has been behaving like a petty selfish spoiled brat crybaby; and you have the gall to wonder about the coronavirus? A petty selfish spoiled brat crybaby who, apparently, needs a firm swift spanking. And spare me the politics, because that would only qualify you to get pushed up against the wall to receive a fast bullet behind the ear. In fact, it’s the politics that makes you such an utterly vile and repugnant creature, no matter what your affiliation. Bottom line: Humanity has dropped the ball, big time. I can’t think of an organism that is more deserving of unrelenting reprisal and rebuke. And this needs to be addressed, right now. And I know that some of you may protest, and implore for the implementation of more delay, but I can’t. I just can’t stomach it anymore. There’s no way I can continue to allow this to go on any longer with a clear conscious.

So, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, Charlie. I know that I’m supposed to be here in order to help set minds free from the trappings of mental slavery, but right now, I’m having a hard time finding any reason to continue performing this mission. I’m not quite positive that I have the proper gumption to carry this intention forward any longer. Not under these conditions. Right now, the conditions are not all that conducive towards this high minded goal. For the conditions to be right for this monumental task, there must first be a solid foundation of discipline, mindfulness and efficiency in place, otherwise the corrective efforts will be doomed for failure. And right now, there is just so very little discipline, mindfulness and efficiency. So, unfortunately, now, more then ever in any other time in history, the conditions for the maneuver are dismal and grim.

See, one of the problems is that, in order for one to even be in a position to free one’s mind, there must be a willingness; but right now, there isn’t any. In fact, it’s quite the opposite, I’m afraid. There is a complete lack of willingness. In reality, it’s more like, unyielding belligerent pigheaded ignorance, unreceptive to any kind of expansion into lucid awareness. And I know that this implication itself might turn some of you off; as some of you have previously complained. I know that some of you may think that this video is merely an exercise of me implying my enlightenment by highlighting your ignorance, and that’s completely understandable; as, this is a typical reaction of a fragile ego who suffers intensely from a deep inferiority complex. From this warped perspective, everything in life is always viewed through the lens of the “inferiority superiority”, paradigm, which is infantile, weak and counter productive. There’s nothing more useless then a supposed “student”, who is too preoccupied to focus on the material at hand, all because they are consumed in a constant state of anxiety that the teacher might be implying some sense of superiority due to the fact that they are expounding knowledge that the student is ignorant of; but what’s really presenting the impasse here, is the student’s own inability to move past their deep seated insecurity, to let down their guard, and show some humility.

In other words, one is now in a position where it becomes completely impossible for them to learn anything, or unlearn anything, as the case may be. A situation where one cannot benefit from any kind of tutelage whatsoever, because they already think they know everything. Like an empty cup that’s been filled up to the brim. Nothing useful can get inside, because there’s no more room for anything; which ends up fostering a lack of deeper wisdom, which would normally enable an understanding that true mastery of knowledge does not involve filling one’s cup up with the proper ingredients, but rather, is a process of emptying out the cup, and sustaining this open space at all times, so that knowledge may pass through it freely, and not be grasped at, or held onto desperately, in a futile attempt to fulfill some immature need to contrive an identity. But humanity wants no part of it, and that’s why everyone’s cup is filled up to the brim, and overflowing. People can’t be bothered to clear the mind, because they’re far too busy being fake. Worrying about their precious fineries, and other purely vain enterprises. Human beings have never before been so mentally sick, or spiritually bankrupt. Hence, the commencement of such a liberation is all but impossible to facilitate. And thus, the solution to this problem isn’t very good news for humanity. Sadly, the solution to this problem will ultimately involve a whole lot of mass death and destruction. It’s unfortunate, but unavoidable.

I’ve been contemplating it for a long time, and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that, in order for humanity to move forward towards enlightenment, a lot of things are gonna need to be cut out of the project. And I’m not going to make any announcements as to what this is, nor as to what it may apply. Sorry, but these things are existential aspects that just don’t serve any constructive purpose any more. They are aspects that simply don’t have any beneficial function. They are, in fact, actually, quite literally, detrimental to the cause, and, at this point, really need to just be systematically eradicated, permanently. They are profoundly broken aspects, ones that are beyond all reclamation or repair, and, at this point, are only serving as impediments, and negative distractions, from the truth.

We are in this realm to seek the truth and free the mind. That’s the job we’ve been tasked to accomplish, but, unfortunately, the majority of you seem to think that this realm is some kind of cocoon of delusion, designed to facilitate constant masturbation to your myopic ego, and as such, you have set up your camp accordingly. Vast battalions of waste producing vacuums, staged across the landscape, poised and ready for an unrestrained feeding frenzy. Absolutely not. You can kiss it all goodbye. That rug is gonna get yanked out from under your feet so fast, your head is gonna spin off your neck and hit the ceiling.

I fiercely condemn your hubris, and your overblown sense of assumed entitlement, and think that, right about now, you could really benefit from a couple of hard smacks to either side of your ugly constipated face, to, you know, kinda wake you up a bit, and hopefully bring you back down to reality. And is this harsh? Not really. This is an important wake up call, for a lazy blind pea brained dodo bird. Gently caressing your cheek and kissing you on the forehead will only help you to continue to slumber, and you’ve already hit that snooze button for the last time. Time’s up. You’re late. And as a result, getting smacked awake is the least of your worries. So yeah. Good afternoon, sleepy head. So glad you could join us. Now eat a rice cracker, shut up, sit down, and do not speak. Let the adults have a conversation. Children only speak when spoken to.

“But wait, Sage. Please don’t be so harsh. If I’m wrong, educate me. Don’t belittle me.”

No. Shut up. You’re already way too educated. I may teach you a few things here and there, but ultimately, my main objective here is to empty out your fucked up mind, not to shove more useless information into it. Don’t belittle you? Unfortunately, this is unavoidable. Your ego balloon has gotten so over inflated, it’s filled up the entire fucking room. Do I have any other choice but to lash out and puncture you? You are an opinionated short-sighted uptight emotional train wreck. You are impetuous and selfish. And you totally lack discipline, mindfulness and efficiency. Hence, a large part of my job nowadays has become punishment, reprove and correction, which, sadly, is a major disappointment, but it can’t be helped. One can’t even be in a position to free their minds from mental slavery until one has established certain basic fundamentals. And one of the basic fundamentals right now, is to just shut up. Both your mind, and your mouth. Remember “Clear Mind, Closed Mouth?” Well, it’s time to put it into practice. If you clear the mind, the mouth will relax. Calm the mind and the mouth will follow; as opposed to always hyper overthinking everything, then engaging in the subsequent non-stop constant yapping about it. It really is irritating. Like the one who thinks that acquiring some lame insipid opinion on a subject is some kind of indication of a ground breaking accomplishment. Nice try, but you’ve accomplished jack shit. Sorry to disappoint you, but as much as you’d like to believe, your opinion is no more of a ground breaking accomplishment then a fat old cow blowing out a loud stinky fart. Yeah.

So getting back to you, and your complete lack of directed focus, which consequently leads to an overall deficit of discipline, mindfulness and efficiency, we’ve come to a point in time where, you need to decide whether or not you are going to either adapt, or die. Right now, mankind’s priorities are rooted in selfish egotism, and are not at all concerned with lucid awareness; this is why the current circumstances have quickly become a putrid situation, and the only real way to fix it, is to, straight up, cut out the festering malignancies. No bones made, no soft soap, or band aid. Just cut out the festering malignancies. Then insert the malignancies into a meat grinder, take the ground meat and liquefy it in a blender, then take that purée and burn it, then take the ashes and dump them into the ocean. Then we can all sing songs and eat danishes.

Isn’t that a normal response? Does a gardener not pull weeds from the garden? Does a healer not remove the disease from the body?

“Yeah, Sage. But who gets to decide? Who gets to make the ultimate decision about what should be saved, and what should be cut out?”

Well, that’s easy enough. I do. I get to decide. I will pass judgement, then implement a plan of action, systematically erasing any and all aspects that have been deemed counter productive to the project, hence no longer conducive towards truth and enlightenment. And I’m not going to make any announcements as to what this is, nor as to what it may apply. Get it straight. This isn’t a punishment. That time has passed. Punishment implies there’s hope for correction and rehabilitation. But we’ve been well passed that point for some time. This isn’t about punishment. This is about pure erasure. And, it’s not even a big deal. There isn’t any moral wrong in eliminating useless impediments. These aspects don’t have any value, nor any worthwhile purpose, hence lack any functional utility. I don’t have any use for any of them. They do not serve the truth. And anything that does not serve the truth, is truly the definition of extraneous and expendable. Hence, there’s not gonna be any more chances to recognize errors and make the proper corrections. There has been more then enough opportunity for that hitherto. And those offered opportunities have been spit on, pissed on, shit on, and then puked on.

So, that’s it. The deadline has passed. From this point forward, there’s not gonna be any more accommodations or considerations. There will be no more appeals. There will be no way to reason with the relentless onslaught. There’s gonna be absolutely no exceptions, nor any allowance for due pause, that will warrant a response to the inevitable cries for leniency or mercy. And mercy and leniency for what? So that you can go back to being an arrogant belligerent blind obstinate pig? No. You’ve made your bed, and now you are gonna get slammed down into that fucker with brute force, and that coffin will then be lowered into the ground, and then you will be buried alive. But don’t worry, you will be buried alive with your sacred attachment, so that you may have more then enough time to gain intimacy with the delusional teat you’ve bartered your enlightenment for. Enjoy it. You’ve earned it. And sacrificed your freedom for it. So go ahead and suck on it. And then swallow it, bitch.

And I’m not fucking around ova here. And I’m not fuckin’ around ova here. These three world quandaries will be corrected, post haste; or there will be serious serious consequences. The world has been practically brought down to it’s knees; all due to careless actions. Oops. See how easy that was? One small seemingly negligible negligence can translate into death for hundreds of thousands. So the recipes for disaster are not all that complicated. One simple act performed in just the right way, and the whole world can fall.

So, ignore this at your own risk. Compliance will render accord. Insubordination will yield only pestilence. If you choose to disregard this warning, then don’t be surprised if you wind up having to pay a very serious price. And that means everybody. And I don’t care if the majority of human beings never get to hear this message. That’s not my concern. It still applies to everyone, world wide, regardless if they’ve heard it or not. As long as this message reaches just one single solitary subconscious mind, the ordinance becomes enacted. If this message manages to reach just one lone ear, the injunction becomes written in stone; and will stay in effect indefinitely, until it is deemed otherwise.

Don’t make me have to repeat myself.

Stop having so many children. Stop polluting the planet. And stop the rampant abuse of animals. Now. Or else.

“You have the right to remain in quarantine. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you for a quarantine. You have the right to pay for a quarantine. If you cannot afford a quarantine, one will be provided for you.”

Convergence - Ch. 1

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma (scriddler), Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley, Selina Kyle, 

Rating: G Words: 2671

Misc Info: Scriddler - Dancer au. Based on a post where Jon is a ballet performer and Edward is a renown critic in Gotham City.

Synopsis: Nygma rarely compliments anyone in his articles, but the one time he does, it isn't as welcomed as he expected it to be.

You can find the rest of the fic here on AO3

Gotham city was fortunate enough to have accumulated several generous benefactors over the last decades. Sponsoring diverse projects and encouraging the development of culture in various forms.

Some rich and famous names might come to mind, for those who cared. The reality being that as long as people were entertained, they tended to ask very little about where the funds came from, and more about the very shiny signs announcing the shows on popular venues.

It wasn’t unusual for many shows to be performed through the several theaters and stages of the city. But tonight, and for the next months to come, Jonathan’s new company was performing in an admittedly more modest one. One of these, older establishments that couldn’t quite fit as many spectators as the Grand Theater of Gotham, but its fading glory still held an aura of authenticity and… dare he say mysticism, that modern stages couldn’t recreate.

It felt comforting.

Besides, funds, sponsors and whatnot, Contemporary ballet was an everlasting style in development, hence its name. It was an acquired taste as well, and required a lot of observation to catch all its nuances, but said subtleties needed to be conveyed properly to be felt. These two factors made rather difficult to make any significant progress as far as the techniques were concerned. People wanted easy entertainments. To be amazed, to be held in a moment and carried through time and space-….

There were a few knocks on the door. He said nothing until a second series of them were heard. He stopped staring at his reflection and finally complied. “Come in, Harley.”

A blonde hair practically popped from the door, a devilish smile and twinkles in her eyes. ”Just checking in to see if you’re all set. The show starts in 30 minutes and we’ll spray-paint the people who tries to get in after that!”

“You shouldn’t spray-paint the guests, Harley. That’s some other show’s gimmick already.”

“That’s what Red says, but where’s the fun in not threatening rude patrons with the fear of ruining their nice suits?”

Jon gave her a look, and turned back to the mirror. “Where indeed, although for greater effect I’d recommend telling them they might be hustled onto the stage for the group choreography if they try to leave.” His lips were tugging slightly upward, though he felt compelled to remain serious. “You’re trying to ease some of my tension, aren’t you?” it wasn’t an accusation as much as an ironic remark. She pushed expertly her flashy red glasses further up her nose.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Like a charm.”

She posed triumphantly in the door frame, fully opening the door for dramatic effect. Jon would roll his eyes, had it been anyone else. “Come back later when the number before mime starts. I’ll…. psych up, as we’ve discussed.”

She nodded and grabbed the door handle. “… Need me to turn off the light?”

Again, his lips tugged. A quick scan of the various items on his vanity proved that everything was set. “That would be appreciated, thank you.”

The switch was turned off, and the door closed. He heard the distant chatter of the nearby dancers and the squeaking of her lucky shoes.

A tall, gangly man was sitting in the dark, the bulbs of the vanity lighting ominously his shape. And with slow, meticulous care, he began his preparations.

If anything could describe Gothamites best, it would be their simultaneous appeal for modernism and their compulsive urge to return to the aesthetics of the noir movie genre….. Leaving it perpetually locked in a neo and retro phase that was now festering over 80% of the structures in the city and some of its unfortunate newer suburbs.

Edward Nygma, undoubtedly the advisable cultural critic in the city and beyond, found it incredibly redundant, and morose.

But he had to admit, there was just this inexplicable charm to Gotham that slowly swallowed you whole and made you run its maze willingly in the dark of the night. It grew on you, and left you with a taste that moving elsewhere brighter or warmer would just feel deeply wrong.

Oh but its people. Redundant and morose sadly applied to them as well. Truly a similar case as the new European bourgeoisie in the beginning of the XXe century, where they knew nothing of the arts but attended shows because it felt prestigious to do so, understanding be damned. Interest be damned.

How baffling was it that you had all this available access to arts and knowledge and somehow only notice how flashy and brights the lights were and nothing of the lines and precision. Trying to have any sort of intellectual conversation with most everyone felt unsatisfactory and they’ll tell you the most obvious details of a performance without noticing the deeply profound details or excruciating flaws. They fell for the easiest tricks, who were admittedly sometimes brilliant if you actually knew they WERE tricks but that was still incredibly debilitating.

Of course, Edward Nygma knew better.

And in his generous benevolence, he wrote fervently about it, which made him one of the best critics on this side of the country.

The fact that he received both gifts or threats via his carefully sorted fan mail only told him he was making a good deed.

He was fairly informed about all the shows of any relevance and tonight was no exceptions. Although contemporary ballet was not his favored form of art, his career as a ‘retired’ classical ballet dancer and incredible memory enabled him to know basically everything about it.

But tonight, he had been personally invited by one of the company’s manager, and old friend, Ms. Quinzel, to assist at the premiere of their new series of weekly productions. It was, somewhat of a loose interpretive project, mostly in preparation for their bigger event in a couple of months.

The company was composed of a few dancers from in and outside of Gotham. One in particular, they barely managed to recruit.

“and why is that?” he asked her on the phone, twirling a green pen in his hand.

“Oh we’re from the same program, remember the psychology-dance fusion from a few years back? He was one of the first in it before it was shut down. He’s... pretty obscure, but I’ve seen what he can do and he’s been moving from company to company for the past couple of years so it was kinda hard to convince him to come back to Gotham. He’s from Georgia I think, but that’s all I’m gonna say since I know you like to see the artists first before doing your researches.” The wink was almost audible.

Oh great, a Georgia man.

However she was right. He preferred to see the performance beforehand as to not cloud his judgement.

And here he was, in this old-fashioned theater, rambling the wait away. His friend Selina had graciously accepted to join him, as she was a passionate dancer of her own, and endlessly insightful in the matter.

Their pleasant chatting ended much too soon, as the lights dimmed in the soft warmth only older establishments could provide, and all of Edward’s focus locked onto the stage.

“Ok so, Leone’s on stage right now, that means we’re two numbers away, right?”

“Yeah and before us it’s hm…. What’s his name again?”

“Crane, the tall fella who was in Opal City last year. Worked with some guy named Swift I heard”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that! Weird show-.”

Someone with a headset popped from a closed door, eyes and smile unnervingly threatening. “If I can hear you guys, the whole backstage can too! You move somewhere else to talk or you get on standby ASAP!”

The chatty bunch moved quickly, as Harley huffed and inhaled broadly. She was on her way to go get Jon, and rose her hand to do her signature knocking on the door, when it opened on its own. The room dark and dramatic, with lights flooding inside and over an eerie silhouette holding the door.

“Shucks Jon you gotta show me how you did that,” she said in awe after a while, trying to calm her thrilled heartbeat, “Your turn is up, by the way. Five minutes Standby, come on let’s go!” she urged him along and he followed her, his mind already on the stage.

Stage fright was a fascinating phenomena.

Some have it regardless of situation, some have it only when they’re alone on a stage but not with several people with them, some have it the other way around…

But there was just something so emetic, so vulnerable and purgative about dancing.

For Jon at least, and so he had spent many years working to refine his mastery of it.

And how all of it could hold onto the palm of his hands. Their eyes, their hearts, the air they breathe…

Survive to control. Control to survive.

It was dancing over the edge of a great fall, with the lights blinding and an eternity of power and soul in your chest.

Someone had told him once, his performances were some weird style nobody could really pull off like he did.

And he agreed with the sentiment.

Nobody could, but the Master of Fear.

And what else could move him more, but fright itself.

There was a thunder of applause after each numbers afterward, but Edward didn’t seemed to hear none of them. And as the producers and managers of the show came last onto the stage to invite the patrons for next week’s performance, same place same time, he felt the touch of a hand over his arm.

“Edward darling, your face is going to stay like that if you keep frowning so hard,” She teased. He seemed visibly unsettled.

It took him 2 seconds too long to answer. “Marvelous...” His words were baffled, his face positively puzzled.

It took her a moment as well, but still attempted a wild guess. “The tall man with the crooked nose?”

“ The tall man with a crooked-! Oh truly my dear, you are disappointing me.”

She tilted her head warily. “What did you see, Edward?”

He frowned again until he understood the true nature of her inquiry, which he brushed off with impatience. “No, that man. I’ve- I don’t think I’ve seen anything as marvelous, as elegant and memorable as his number since the time I was still on stage!”

“Glad to hear,” she replied, slightly wounded but mostly used to it.

“Selina now is not the time, I’m going to meet him, right now.” He rose to his feet with a single goal in mind. She, however, jammed her crossed leg more firmly in the front seat to block his path.

“Edward.”

“Selina.”

“I understand you got that whole shtick of yours to be done, but after a show is hardly the place-”

“What on Earth are you talking about? His placements were perfect! His influences are not only clear, but innovative! He practically haunted the stage and I-” He finally caught up with the ridicule of his situation, stared down at the elegant leg barring his way and turned around to march toward the other end of the row. His steps were quick enough to get him to the backstage in no time, and he began to look around for-

“Can I help you sir?” One headset crew asked him, eyeing him evenly.

“Yes, I’m searching for this mister Crane-”

“Oh he left already. You just missed him.”

A door swung open with brightly dressed Harleen Quinzel, talking over her shoulder. “Jon wait for us I just gotta chat with Marv-” She stopped short, processing who was in front of her until she connected the dots. “ -You came!"

“I did! I know I’ll tell you all about it, just gimme a second-” he practically slid past her. Harley spun on herself in a cartoony way for comical effect.

A few steps further and here was the man of the hour. If he stared, he did not take notice of it. “You!”

The man said nothing, but frowned severely.

“I’m so glad I caught you, my friend. You have no idea how fulfilling your act was, how marvelous! The lines, the drive- I’m not a man of contemporary ballet myself, but this was beyond words!”

“Much obliged,” he mumbled. Edward was too lost to pick on the cold and sharper demeanor the man had, the more he talked. How his eyes would cut him to pieces if it made him go away.

“And you’re welcomed! Truly I don’t think I’ve been so impressed by anyone before-”

“I’m sure a chat would be nice, sir, but you are not welcomed here.”

“Don’t be absurd, you’re not the ONLY one I came to see here tonight,” he huffed.

He was starting to lose his footings, but the coup de grace must had been when those pale thin lips stretched into one cruel line. Only then did he notice just how, unnervingly sharp his pale eyes were on him.

“And why should I care about the opinion of a generic, self-proclaimed fool of importance who wears a tacky green three-piece suit in the summer?”

This wasn’t any unusual things hadn't heard in the past. But he couldn’t help feeling taken aback, especially to hear it coming from this... Unnerving man.

The whole venture seemed rather foolish, in retrospective.

The silence stretched, and Crane tilted his head, as if to feast on the speechless wrecked he’d become. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important things to do” he said softly, but loud enough for the whole room to hear. Only then did Edward realized that they had been the center of the attention, as there had been other people in the room, staring in bewilderment.

They seemed to know who Edward was, but Jon gave no such thing as a clue of reminiscence. Instead, he eerily moved to pick a bottle from an ice bucket and walked out as if he had never been there in the first place.

Edward wasn’t sure how he got out of the theater, but he suspected Selina had indeed waited for him, or did some investigation of her own to pick up the pieces.

“Who does he think he is!”

“I told you not to go in there, didn’t I?”

“But I never go congratulate anyone like this and have it just, thrown back in my face like that? What kind of rude, careless person would practically brush me off like I wasn’t the best ally any artist could have in this city!”

“You didn’t write anything about him, did you?”

“Of course not, I would remember such a name.”

She observed him a while longer, her words curious. “He really got to you, didn’t he?”

He glared at her. She batted her beautiful eyes with a knowing smile.

And now back home, Edward stared at the screen, frowning deeply.

Time to get to work.

And work he did diligently, as per his usual dedication. The article was written and complete within the earliest hours, and properly fact-checked by dawn.

It felt strange, the more he tried to avoid writing about the tall man, the more he wrote about it.

But as he reviewed the completed article, it felt more accurate than anything he’d written so far. Well, maybe not anything. That article from last April might be the most accurate. But, nonetheless....

He prided himself to be nothing but exact in his critics.

And as he finally sent the review, research done, evening past, it unnerved him just how little information he had actually gathered about the man himself.

He opened a new tab, and started reading all over again.

What a strange, peculiar man.

From Baudrillard we’ve inherited a number of terms, the one relevant to this post being ‘hyper-real’ (sometimes ‘hyper-reality’). By ‘hyper-real’ what we mean to denote is a resemblance to The Real—unmediated reality—that is, for some very basic reasons, ‘better’ or ‘preferable’, but ultimately gives the impression of being ‘more real than The Real’. A hyper-real experience of some x is an experience of x that is preferable—given its increased vivacity, sharpness etc.—to an experience of that same x in actual ‘The Real’ reality.

An example will make the distinction clear. Our ‘post-modern’ father, who finds himself absurdly competing everyday for the affections of his son against the most impossible alternatives—video games, television, the internet, etc.—decides to disconnect the boy for a few hours and take him to a baseball game. The boy, who actually knows quite a bit about baseball and even claims to be a fan of the game, quickly grows bored and even slightly annoyed with his father for bringing him outside. His annoyance is the product of a very telling insight—that is: the boy realizes that, had he been left to his own devices (note the lack of idiom), he could have stimulated himself much more effectively and with greater enjoyment. This knowledge, almost over-whelming in its force, prompts the boy to finally proclaim to his father (not half-way through the third inning, we might imagine): ‘This has been fun and all, but you should play MLB2K13 if you really like baseball.’ The absurdity of this statement is all the more difficult to bear because we understand exactly what he means. If he was in a more ironic mood, then he might say: ‘This has been fun and all, but it doesn’t come close to the real thing.’ This wording brings out sharpest the consequences of hyper-reality. The actual game of baseball being played out on the field, under the sun, with bats, balls, and sponsors—this constitutes, for our purposes, The Real. The video-game, which began as a mere simulation of reality, has transcended its status of being a simple ‘resemblance’. The hyper-focused, beautiful, lush visuals; the ease and comfort with which the game is played; the total engagement and over-stimulation—these factors conspire in bringing the game to the position of ‘hyper-reality’. It is the trademark of hyper-reality that it seems ‘more real than real’—and this is a matter of perfection. Where an actual game of baseball may be sloppy, start-and-stop, and uncomfortable to watch (heat, lack of shade, inability to hit pause and go grab a snack, etc.), the hyper-real experience on the other hand has none of these deficiencies.

Hyper-reality is present in those movies ‘based on a true story’, especially if the events depicted happened in your lifetime and—at the time they were happening—you couldn’t be bothered to watch the news. The eagerness with which we line up outside the theater on opening night is an irony lost on just about everyone.

A very standard ‘post-modern’ critique of the hyper-real concerns the spectator’s propensity to reproduce inauthentic experience. If the hyper-real is so compelling, then our construction of experience (day-to-day) will inevitably converge upon trying to re-create the hyper-real. The two obvious problems to arise from this treatment of experience are: first, it is very seldom that the hyper-real can be recreated spontaneously; the almost inevitable failure to do so leads to disappointment and depression. Second, all experience will be mediated by a host of ‘ideal’ versions of that experience which, if allowed to mediate, will provide for the same outputs every time. What you eventually get is repetition and an inability to see yourself out of that repetition. So we become trapped in a cycle of creating inauthentic experiences that will never be enough to satisfy. You can guess what many will find to be the solution: rejection of experience in total—authentic or inauthentic (which is the only type they have any inkling of how to create)—and a return to the solitude of hyper-reality.

I think, by this point, the direction I’m taking is fairly obvious with regards to social media (and Tumblr in particular). Whereas with such media as movies, video games, books (to a diminished degree), etc. we are given a pretty well structured set of parameters to reproduce, the same cannot be said of social media. Let’s say that I’m a fan of sit-coms that revolve around some setting like, for example, a café. Now, when I visit cafes, I have these shows in mind—their general plots, dialogue and the types of characters typically involved—so that I begin to reproduce what I’ve seen. (It must be noted that this isn’t an explicitly conscious project, although it can be, however commonly operating as if by reflex). While it is impossible to perfectly mimic the hyper-real experience of watching the show, I may come close. This is because the dimensions of a ‘café-centered sit-com’ are finite and rather easily recognizable. So much so, in fact, that I could reasonably become annoyed if my friend—who I’ve arranged to meet at some café—‘drops the ball’, so to speak, and does something out of line with the re-creation. (A situation of this sort was humorously depicted in Sartre’s Nausea, when the protagonist’s lover complained that he was always ruining her cinematic moments, usually by saying something banal).

Social media (now: SM) either doesn’t have—or doesn’t have very clear—parameters of this sort. It would appear that SM is the hyper-real replica of reality’s social aspect itself. It is no wonder, then, that we cannot enumerate all of its dimensions, because doing so would be to list everything that is of and in society. I hope the horror of the situation is becoming clear. This is what we are faced with: if SM takes the place of ‘the hyper-real version of ‘social interaction’/’society’’, then all future social interactions (happening in good old capital-R Reality) will be mediated by the glowing ideal of the Internet. And I do believe SM is hyper-real. It provides for all of the benefits of social interaction—communication, solidarity, friendship, etc.—without any of the hairy details involved in actually going outside and maybe being stood-up or bored. If you’re not convinced SM is hyper-real, then consider the following examples that would be impossible in an unmediated interaction.

You’re talking to your best friend online. Knowing each other as well as you two do is great, the conversations are funny and everyone’s always on the same page, but naturally things become formulaic and after a bit of interaction you need a break. No problem. Open a new tab, watch a video, listen to music, read an article, play a game, etc. They’re still there in the chat-window for whenever you want to resume the conversation (in fact, they’re probably doing the same thing on their end). Further, Internet etiquette has evolved to the point where we don’t even have to say ‘bye’ or ‘I’ll be back in a second’ or anything. You can drop a conversation at any time, and pick it back up at any time, and no one cares.

Another example. If you really wanted (and if you had a bit of an inferiority complex) you could easily appear as a very smart, hip, well-informed person. You can see where I’m going with this. If there is ever, in the course of your conversation, a term you’re unfamiliar with you can look it up and appear an expert within seconds. Ditto re ‘have you seen/heard/read the new ____’

Imagine trying to import these examples into a real, unmediated, social experience. It can’t be done. So what happens? The two consequences of hyper-reality still take effect, but more destructively since our attempts are from the outset more futile. We are condemned to a reality where all of our attempts at unmediated social interaction fall utterly flat. What we put in place of authentic social interaction is the creation of semblances. I’m sure you’ve seen this, or perhaps you’ve done it, where you go to some social event (not online) and see people consumed with creating the semblance of a good time for their profiles. This horror reaches, for me, a nasty pitch at concerts where the crowd is more interested in producing a quality youtube video than enjoy the performance. The youtube video becomes more real than the real.  

What was the pessimistic solution again? Reject ‘The Real’ altogether and retreat into the solitude of hyper-reality. In other words, log back onto Tumblr. I pick on Tumblr because, I think, it has the most diverse functions—especially when compared to Facebook or Twitter—and so also has the greatest potential to do damage. One fairly easy to spot consequence of this retreat back to the Internet is the complex of memes, in-jokes, codes-of-conduct, and what might be called the new ‘net dialect’ that has sprung up through SM. What has happened is an utter rejection of The Real by deciding to live and flourish in the hyper-real (what we might think of, not without some hesitation, as the ‘cyber-real’). The anxiety and disappointment common to all experiences with The Real, especially after prolonged exposure to the hyper-real, can only grow disproportionally more hideous as social media expands its influence. I’m worried and feel that more solutions are in order. It is my intuition that the most elegant solution won’t be one that does away with social media, but one that can fit it most succinctly into our delegations of various types of ‘reals’.    

Tel Aviv 2019: Straight outta Czech Republic to Eurovision with an unexpected geographical sight name

Another year, another Czech attempt at a national final that wasn’t televised also BUT this time we got some excitement announcements out of them - even if they were blatantly boring, kind of.

Keep in mind though that I know that the revamp's out, BUT this whole review is just me reviewing the version we all witnessed back when ESCZ hit. The one and only.

So the NF’s here because we saw Mikolas succeed from it the last time (eventhough it’s just a secret internal selection for just the Mikolas’s song and there’s no no denying hihihi), right? And thanks to that we got pseudo-official-but-not-so-official hotel music videos of each contestant’s songs just in case they decide to... like... change it for something different. Like those lyric videos last year. Eventhough they looked so very lowbudget this year, I still liked them to some degree, and eventually I had to witness this one video (set in presumably mostly the living room) where the lead singer confettis all over himself win this year (well not really the video as much as I only got to first hear that song on ESCRadio hahaha). Well, just the lead singer of it. As the buddies were on the other official video (the one I’ll talk about in my revamps update I guess but has anything changed other than the singer singing one of his talking parts?). As a whole the Czech entrants this year are known as Lake Malawi (it exists) and “Friend of a Friend” is their A-game! Let’s listen!

I liked it ever since my first acknowledgence(??) of it through ESCRadio. It reminded me of those happy-clappy 80s synth sounds (eventhough the 80s songs were mostly about gloom and doom), somehow somewhat mixed in with a bit of that ‘modern’ synthpop sound from the British music scene (Years & Years maybe? Nah that’d be too far-fetched). The lyrics, while cheap enough, at least paint a bit of a picture? I don’t think the person in the song was “making love” to his ‘old’ neighbouress back when she was 13, anyway. She’s, afterall, the “friend of a friend”. Who is a friend of a friend. Who is a friend of a friend. Who is a friend of a friend’s COUSIN~

The thing is that some songs out here are enjoyable besides their lyrical content. Or even without the singer’s background (still looking at those who’re shading Sheppard’s family business - shut up and enjoy “Geronimo” in peace, geez!). I, for example, jammed to RiRi’s “S&M” for my lifetime - yes, even since when it got big, and the pop music was being made to sound trashy, and not like something that sounds too somber and ‘foggy’, and with lyrics from r/im14andthisisdeep, and then later slapped on those a e s t h e t i c moodboards with tulips and liquid (of colour blue/red) splashed onto them to make it loof more effective, and placed in front of a yellow background on a white table. I miss late 2000s-early 2010s pop a whole lot, because at least it had fathomable-to-the-ear hits of the time - cheap, fast food, techno melodies with overproduction and lyrics that actually mean something more intimate and grotesque (with sometimes even hinting to the love surface) - that was the shit. Now it’s just drowsy stuff with blurry melodies and lamentings of lost love and devotion in an equally slurry, pathetic, vocal whine. I’m so tired of it. It’s unsettling. Get it off me. And thankfully, none of that invades this small little bubble of Eurovision’s just as of now (unlike the other pathetic musical cliche of nowadays that’s Soundcloud rap - ‘thanks’ a lot USNK). And I guess I shouldn’t be blessed that Lake Malawi brings this “this bangs but the lyrics are... a choice, but it still bangs so idc” back onto Eurovision? Like, come on, we all have had such kinds of songs like those all of that time. From “I Can’t Go On” (a man being a slut for love???) to countless of national final shlocks made by these usual suspects from rent-a-songwriter corner, ESPECIALLY in the 00s, to some of those actual 00s entries that made it - so stupid to sing along to, yet so infectious you can’t drag your earworm out of your ear canals just now. What does “Friend of a Friend” have for itself? Keyboard melody in the 2nd half of the chorus that is easily stuck in MY head, with a female voice (I assume it’s the song’s protagonist’s subject of speech - the neighbourina herself) reassuring that “[she’s] only [his] friend” - not in a “haha I’m friendzoning you forever >:)” way, but “ehhhh there’s truly nothing between us as he says, we’re just friends, not lovers, don’t give me that look” way. Sure it’s believable, sure. It might as well turn out that these neighbours are indeed doing the same thing as in all those local anecdotes where a family’s mother or father has an affair with a next-door neighbour for shits and giggles to move the joke’s plot forward.

So it is, as a whole, a fun little throwback-ish piece of fine and smooth music, accompanied with the lead singer’s ‘British’ ‘accent’ (aha so this is why I get a lot of British radio vibes from this - not to mention, tropical beach ones too for some reason!), some sort of spoken dialogue, energy and the ability to raise you up from your seat the 45875th time you’re actually giving in to all of this. You know you want to, despite this song possibly not being your cup of tea. But I see you, and I look forward to seeing you bopping to this fully in May, no matter if this isn’t Mikolas you’re dealing with anymore, and no camel spaghetti. Ahw yeah!

Approval factor: Although it’s also slowly wearing off me like it already wore off everyone else back then, I’m still giving it one hell of an approval. Yay!

Follow-up factor: I definitely like it more than “Lie to Me” as well. Somewhat. Honestly. Don’t bash me in secret.

Qualification factor: the naysayers are saying this will flop but imo they’re mostly just upset that Barbora didn’t go (even if they were only still upset back in the say), STILL. Ugh can’t they just leave. I am positive about this song’s chances somewhat, just hoping it gets a really memorable and stand out staging and maybe it will escape this hellhole of its semi. Not very confident, just positive. (Also they rocked the Vidbir stage so hard even the uncomfortable question queen Dramala couldn’t not give in the dance, lolz.)

NATIONAL FINAL BONUS

Honestly, the best possible thing that came out of this NF was the oh-so-unexpectedly-expected winner choice, and it is like this because, yet again, people couldn’t get over Barbora losing at first, to which I’m like “to be quite honest, you were all into it because that’s the closest thing to Lana del Rey you’d ever get in Eurovision because Lana herself is American and America should NOT set their foot into ESC... besides, she wouldn’t probably do it anyways”. ESCZ wasn’t pretty bad of a NF honestly:

• people actually laughed at the fact every single video of this NF is so low-budget that it looked like it was all filmed in the same hotel room! (in reality I’m just jealous at the slick-ass hotels they’ve had on there, feels like someone’s house more than a hotel actually)

• Pam Rabbit, one of Mikolas’s last year’s backings, brought the second-best NF song this year imo (Barbora for me is likeable but not to THAT degree, lol calm yer tits), as it was a lowkey bop and I can’t not appreciate one!

(her officially official MV is here but in the spirit of this NF’s, you’re gonna have to subject yourself to this above in order to witness spectacular budget-MVs that happened for this NF especially, come on. Hardly a cool NF without its own little perks!)

• Fine, I’ll bring up Barbora Mochowa too. I gotta say she DOES sound like Queen Bee Lana, same to say on her earlier works which, among them, has one enchanting and haunting forest-like ballad. “True Colors”, her ESCZ entry, is just a pop ballad, which is not THAT bad, it’s just that... did y’all see any more in that song beyond the Lana vocals? Sure sure the melody is pleasant but... did ya?

(Lord alive, she also has a live video for this song on her channel, which is in fact the ESCZ’s unplugged version video!)

• The ex-ESC entrant jury is back for another year! This time though, the votes of all of the participants in it were all up and public (unlike secrety mcsecret ones from 2018 where I’m not even sure if the Eurojury panel was correct), and most of them were #TeamMalawi or #TeamBarbora... up until AWS (yes AWS are relevant enough for their own panel!), being the “wait do we still have to do Eurovision related things??? it’s sooooo 1 year ago already, let us go goddammit!!” type of participants that they are, totally and utterly half-arsing their own experience in there by 12ing Andrea Holá. The thing is that she’s first alphabetically from the artists so that’s probably the best possible theory why. “GIVE ME A HINT, ANDREA!!!”

• The best part? The NF itself taking place in the second floor of an abandoned warehouse somewhere in Czech Republic (Czechia go to hell), in the middle of the day, with no live performances, just that video above played in full motion and some random people speaking in between. Silly of them to leak my ideal NF design location if I ever were a Lithuanian HoD. And yes, it was streamed on Facebook, the platform that I can barely play livestreams on my 11-year-old laptop on, while suspiciously enough, it worked for FiK 56... which meant that I was barely able to grasp a screenshot but I managed!

Well of course I didn’t get to watch much but after someone said Lake Malawi (or, in their words, Lake Malala <333) won, I almost believed it until I found out that the show’s still going... and only saw the thing on the projection screen later out of nowhere. IDK who’s hugging who and if that audience on the right are all the participants then I may have an idea but for now IDK. Ahh, relevant video media being projected on projection screens (duh) <33 giving San Marino, Albania’s Powerpoint scoreboards and Belgian 2013 radio NF runs for their money.

I might find mistakes and off-the-wall blabbers in this write-up later but for now I’ll carelessly submit this beauty to Tumblr today and wish the best of luck to Lake Malawi in Tel Aviv! May you qualify for the 2nd year in a row for CZ ^^

Begin Again

Based on this request x

Summary: You, an undergrad engineering student move into the Avengers compound by your close friend, Tony Stark’s request. This is a story of a tech-savvy, sardonic mechanical engineer helping the man out of time, Bucky Barnes, get back on his feet and into his own head and maybe just having difficulty with problems that she can’t use wrenches or screwdrivers to fix. 

Pairings: Bucky x Reader; platonic!Tony x Reader

Word count: 2,626

A/N: this is my first series and I guess the first chapter’s always going to be a little slow because it’s all about exposition, right? I hope you guys like this, I’m pretty excited for this series. This story also mentions the events mapped in Civil War so be prepped for spoilers.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 End

Your heart pounded nervously as you entered the compound, a duffel bag on your shoulder and a pass key in hand. You walked past the reception desk and slotted the card in place to access the elevator, taking you from the silent lobby up past the masses of floors teeming with people. Men and women in lab coats or tactical gear swarmed the building carrying files or prototypes or armour. 

Stark was surrounded by people constantly. It was good for him.

You, though, were incredibly nervous seeing so many people. But it was easy being around Tony having known him for a few years, so your mind eased every time you focused on that. 

When you reached the right floor, you adjusted your bag and held onto the strap, looking around for your best friend without trying to look too lost or suspicious. You wondered how “Earth’s mightiest heroes” responded to a stranger looking like a lost deer wondering around their living quarters. 

‘[Y/N]!’ 

You spun around, relieved when you saw Tony approaching; Rhodes, whom you had met a few times in the past, was behind him.

‘Hey,’ you greeted, hugging him briefly before re-adjusting your bag. ‘You got a nice place here, Stark; pretty empty though, no wonder you asked me to come round.’

Tony smirked and then gestured to Rhodes. ‘You’ve met James, right?’

‘Yeah, hi,’ you smiled, offering your hand for him to shake. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Being Stark’s personal babysitter? Pretty good,’ Rhodes nodded. ‘Except when he calls me by my first name, stop that,’ he added, smacking Tony in the ribs.

‘Aren’t all babysitters personal?’ you smirked.

Rhodes chuckled. ‘How’s university?’

‘Good,’ you replied. ‘Better now that I can put an apprenticeship with Tony Stark on my CV.’

‘Apprenticeship? Is that what you’re calling it?’ Tony quirked an eyebrow and took your duffel bag from you and swinging it over his own shoulder before you could protest.

You followed him and Rhodes to what you assumed would be your bedroom while you were here. 

‘My professors wouldn’t believe me if I said that Tony Stark needed my help designing upgrades and creating armour,’ you admitted. ‘Plus, it doesn’t sound as succinct.’ 

‘Yeah, that’s what the world is looking for,’ Tony said sarcastically. ‘Succinct.’

‘I know you’re kidding but there’s actually a harsh reality in that,’ you said knowingly as Tony set your bag down on your bed. ‘Thank you,’ you added.

‘Alright, kid, come here,’ he grunted, engulfing you in a bear hug, trapping your arms by your side.

‘I get it, Stark, you life means nothing without me,’ you rolled your eyes playfully. 

A few months before you graduated from high school in Manhattan, you took a part-time job at a mechanic’s, mainly fixing cars and such. When someone came to sell off their old motorcycle you jumped at the opportunity before your boss could say that the guy was at the wrong place. Within three days you had taken a beat-up original Triumph Bonneville, designed and fitted a new engine, changed the breaks, re-worked the leather seat, and polished the whole thing down. It was a simple job but you cared for it like a first born. 

Unfortunately, your first born child almost got you into serious trouble when Tony Stark nearly rear-ended you on the road several months later. You had forgotten to check if the battery needed changing (which apparently it did), so the bike died right on the road. Tony was more worried than mad and when he realised how young you were, he couldn’t help but be impressed with your handiwork. He gave you a new job as a lab intern and checked your progress like a proud father until you went off to college, after which you still kept in touch. You weren’t there from the beginning, but you did see a lot of what Tony went through, especially after the attack on New York. 

‘When can I get started?’

‘Eat first,’ was Tony’s response. 

You groaned when your stomach rumbled. Eating was less riveting than the engineering you wanted to do. ‘Yes, Dad.’

You were flicking through a pile of blueprints as you ate, Tony explaining the functions of the compound to you. There were so many people and so many jobs that it made your head spin.

‘Do the others live here as well?’ you asked. ‘Rogers? Maximoff?’ Barnes? 

‘They do, but everyone’s out on an emergency mission,’ Tony said. ‘I thought I’d stay behind and make sure you got in okay.’

You swallowed nervously. ‘Is that okay? I mean, what if they need you out there?’

‘They’ll call,’ Tony said. ‘We do that now, we make calls and stuff.’

‘Stark, I make one comment about your age and you just have to ...’ You trailed off and shook your head fondly. ‘C’mon, what’s my first project?’

 ‘Okay ...’ you murmured, unsure. ‘That’s not what I was expecting.’

Tony shrugged. ‘I take it upon myself to be unpredictable to make things interesting. I’m nice like that.’

You bit your lip skeptically. ‘I’d say Vibranium or starters but I’m sure that you already thought of that and wouldn’t know where to get any.’

‘I’m sort of best friends with the King of Wakanda, that’s not a problem.’

You frowned. ‘I thought we were best friends,’ you said sardonically. You sighed. ‘How long exactly has Barnes been without an arm?’

Tony pretended to count on his fingers. ‘Well, he’s been out of cryo for about a month now -’

‘And he’s been missing an arm the entire time?’ you cried. 

‘Not exactly, I built him a temporary one but it’s boring. Also it was super weak and it stopped working.’

‘It’s boring,’ you repeated. ‘It’s an arm, Tony.’

‘I just meant that he could get a better one and I figured you’d want to help. Give you something different to do.’

‘How did it stop working?’

‘Banner did a scan and we couldn’t get Barnes’ brain to communicate and make the arm move.’

You thought about it. Prosthesis were performed everyday but not with Vibranium metal and maybe that’s why Stark had trouble in the first place. 

‘So Barnes only has one working arm.’

‘Yep.’

‘So where is he now? I’m assuming he wasn’t sent out into the field in his condition.’

‘Nah, he’s around here somewhere,’ Tony said off-handedly and it was the first time he seemed to let himself crack since you had started discussing Barnes. You had heard about how Tony’s parents had died by the Winter Soldier’s hands (literally) and were surprised how calmly Tony seemed to be handling living with the ex-assassin. Barnes and Stark interacting ... it was something you wanted to see. 

You had been in Geneva, Switzerland during the time of the debacle over the Accords, relying at first on biased news reports that labelled Bucky Barnes as a terrorist, and Tony’s long phone call after the fight had died down. He told you what Barnes had done whilst under the influence of HYDRA and the thought of it made your skin crawl. You couldn’t imagine what it was like to wake up from a nightmare and realise that it was actually all true and have to live with the consequences. When Tony had called you asking to work with him, you wondered whether Barnes would also be there, your fascination with him confusing you relentlessly because ... well, you had never met him.

Knowing that he was here and that you would soon meet him made you nervous. 

It didn’t take long for you to fit into the compound as if you had been there for years rather than days. Steve was both your second mother and older brother, Natasha was Cool Aunt Natasha with the knives hidden in secret places and the stories where she kicked ass every single time; Sam was easily the most easy-going guy you had ever met and never failed to make you smile. He had a part-time job as a councilor which you thought suited him well. Wanda was friendly but shy and Tony admitted she had been through a lot of emotional and self-deprecating trauma concerning her powers so she was a little shy. 

You, for one, were never one to complain about someone’s lack of confidence since you understood it. 

You had finished your sketches of Barnes’ new arm, had taken into account the amount of Vibranium you would need, the intricate wiring, and after contacting King T’Challa (which was awesome, you actually spoke to a foreign power), he informed you that he would personally send experts in the field of medical and bio-engineering to help. 

Getting measurements had been strange. When you had voiced your concern over the actual size of the arm, thinking that you yourself could measure Bucky’s right arm to get an idea, Steve had returned within the hour with the measurements. You were designing an arm for a man you hadn’t met.

After thirty two straight hours of actually building the arm, you and Tony were exhausted and starving but were relentless to get the job done. It was seven in the morning, Steve would be coming back in an hour from his run with Sam so you thought you could ask him to bring Bucky to the lab to get the arm fitted. 

‘So,’ you said, leaning back in your chair and stirring your cereal, ‘is this some sort of truce?’

Tony looked at you curiously. 

You nodded to the prosthetic sitting in its holder on the bench. ‘I got the idea that I would be working on this alone but you’ve been with me the entire time; you practically lead the thing.’

Tony stared at the arm running a finger over the rim of the mug in his hands. ‘I haven’t talked to Barnes much since he got here,’ he said. ‘We haven’t really had a conversation, I’m not really good with those, y’know?’

You waited patiently.

‘This arm,’ he continued, ‘it’s like a peace offering. It’s my olive branch. Because even though I feel like I’m being stabbed whenever I think about him too much, I ...’ Tony took a deep breath and then finally looked at you. ‘The guy just wants to start over. And it hurts when I think about how much I wanted to kill him when I found out. So the arm is a non-verbal conversation that lets him start over and helps me move on.’

You nodded understandingly. ‘I think it’s really cool that you’re letting him have that luxury.’

‘What luxury?’

‘Well, maybe you’re not friends yet,’ you said, ‘but having Tony Stark mad at you is pretty crappy. So I think it’s cool that you’re trying.’

Tony looked like he was going to respond but his eyes darted to something behind you.

‘Cap’s back,’ he said, standing up and draining his coffee. ‘Let’s get this done.’

 You helped Bruce set up the operating table in the lab next door and jumped when you heard the door open. 

To your surprise, Barnes was alone; you expected Steve to be with him acting as his twenty-four hour security guard. Then you noticed Steve and, to your pleasant surprise, Tony standing next to each other looking through the observation window.

Barnes was wearing a muscle t-shirt and sweats; his hair was loose around his face, eyes seemingly calm at first but suspicious when you focused on them. He nodded and smiled at Bruce nervously in acknowledgement, right hand rubbing the back of his neck. The remnants of his old left shoulder was partially covered with a black cap made out of what you recognised as Kevlar. You could see scars littering the seam where skin had once met metal.

And then Barnes looked at you and his demeanour seemed to strengthen like he was mentally building walls around himself. 

You held your hand out for him to shake. ‘I’m [Y/N], I’ll be attaching your arm and making sure it works this time,’ you said smoothly.

Your ice-breaker seemed to work. 

Barnes gave you the same smile he had given Bruce. ‘Bucky,’ he said. 

‘Tony told me about the second prosthetic,’ you said as Bucky climbed onto the operating table. ‘I promise that I’m one hundred per cent pretty sure that the one I built won’t suck.’

‘Well that’s all I can ever hope for.’

You chuckled at his wit. ‘I don’t mean to sound so forward, but your shirt needs to be not on you.’

Bucky nodded and pulled his shirt of easily with his hand (you figured that he had practice) and placed it on a nearby bench. There were one or two bruises on his chest (you may have been distracted by actually seeing his chest to be sure) and a shallow scar across his left pectoral (or was it his right? Again, Bucky Barnes had a very distracting chest).

He also removed the Kevlar cap that covered his left upper arm. 

‘It’s kind of a mess,’ he said nervously as he exposed the flesh of his shoulder.

‘It’s okay, so’s my life, I get it,’ you responded with a twisted self-deprecating smile. 

That seemed to ease him. 

‘Okay, so I’m not a medic and I know you’ve just met me but I’m a pretty decent engineer and I had some training from Wakandan experts so I promise that I know what I’m doing,’ you said with certainty. ‘I promise that your new arm won’t suck.’

Bucky chuckled and leaned back in his seat, allowing Bruce to place the mask that would supply the anesthesia over his nose and mouth. 

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off of you until they fluttered closed. 

You didn’t see Bucky for a while after the operation. But you heard from Steve that his new arm was working fine, after testing it out by hitting it with his shield repeatedly. 

‘So how’s he doing?’ you asked Steve one day, the two of you getting an early breakfast. 

‘He’s doing okay,’ Steve replied. ‘Better than I thought which is good, I didn’t want him alone. Sam keeps him on his feet too.’

You smirked. ‘Yeah, I’ve heard. I want those two to live together alone one day.’

Steve took another sip of coffee. ‘That wouldn’t end well at all.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘They’d both live, Rogers, calm your inner mother.’

‘No, I know they’d live, I’m just worried about ... anyone and everyone around them.’

You laughed heartily and turned the burner off, bringing yours and Steve’s omelettes to the table. ‘So Bucky seemed really calm when I was with him,’ you said. 

‘I noticed,’ Steve replied. ‘It’s refreshing seeing him like that.’

‘Is he okay here generally?’ you asked. ‘He was alone for a while, all of this must be unfamiliar territory.’

Steve nodded. ‘He sticks to smaller groups ... I think it helps when people don’t walk on eggshells around him, treat him like a charity case, y’know?’

You nodded. ‘Bucky’s been through a lot but I wouldn’t think treating him like a victim or a murderer is something he would want.’

Steve finished his coffee. ‘How’s your first week here? Tony not bothering you?’

‘Oh I have an extensive list on ways to kill Tony Stark kept safe,’ you winked, ‘but everything’s fine so I’ll let him live.’

‘How generous of you.’

‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have certain upgrades to make to his suit.’

Steve laughed at the evil smirk you were sporting.

‘You wind him up and we all suffer the consequences!’ he called out to you as you scampered out of the kitchen.

‘Good luck, Rogers, Stark’s gonna be launching spaghetti out of his thrusters during his test run this afternoon!’

Originally I had split this into two parts, but I figured that there wasn’t enough action in each for them to be stand-alone chapters. 

https://ift.tt/3hieAPB

You may be onto something here. Memes used to be simple. Relatable. Worth a chuckle. Then they evolved. New formats, new tag lines, new content that was then turned into a new meme. Then memes became increasingly meta and self reflective. They parodied themselves and the users who both made them and consumed them. They built off of one another. They grew. They morphed into something entirely novel. This progressed to the point where even that wasn't enough. They had to become something more than themselves. They became surreal. They became deep fried and nuked. Each flavor building off of the last and transforming into a nearly intangible, unknown entity. Art progressed in a similar fashion. Started off simple, I'm talking cave drawing simple. Then some pottery and some small abstract sculptures. Subjects everyone could relate to and understand. Then, as technology allowed for the creation of cultures and societies, art began to reflect that change and it evolved along with it. By the Ancient Greeks and Romans, art had become a more advanced version of the Stone and Bronze Age arts. Better drawings, paintings, and the addition of mosaics. Sculptures eventually shifted from stylistic expression to naturalistic representation. Still accessible to everyone, yet more nuanced and complex. After the fall of Rome art stagnated and didn't change very much for nearly a millennium. Early Christian art dominated for the most part, consisting of murals and frescos and simple statues. All of which were based on the Ancient styles. Romanesque and Gothic art also built upon these precedents. This all changed when the Renaissance attacked. A cultural explosion changed the art world forever; arguably starting with the Italian artist, Giotto. He began using techniques like foreshortening and linear perspective so that the material world could be represented as it appeared to us. A callback to the naturalistic stylings of the Greeks. Almost like a reference to the days of yore. A celebration of how art used to be, but with the explosion of new techniques and technologies, the art grew increasingly diverse. New and improved frescoes, meticulously crafted sculptures, architectural marvels and the inclusion of new materials in these works. Instead of tempera, oil was introduced along with new styles of depicting light and shadow through sfumato and chiaroscuro. These techniques and stylistic changes, while impressive, were simply an advancement of pre established art. The Renaissance paved the way for the explosion and diversification of dozens of art movements that followed. From prehistoric art to the end of the Renaissance, art was mostly about the same subjects and used similar techniques to accomplish the goal of producing a work of art. Yes, the technical proficiency exponentially improved but considering the centuries in between, few true advancements were made. Compare this to memes. They were so simple at first and really were nothing more. Then they got better. More technical. More circumstantial. More media to create them with. But memes could last years or many months before dying off. As time went on, the longevity of a meme shortened. This is paralleled in the art world. After the Renaissance the Baroque period started. Then the Neo-Classicism, Romantic, Realism, and Impressionism movements not long after. Still utilizing the same technical process but the reasoning behind the movements changed. No longer was it about simply depicting the world around us, it was about prompting the viewer to consider new thoughts and ideas. Urging them to look past the image and think deeper about meaning and context. Pushing the boundaries of what art could be. The Baroque to Impressionism era spanned roughly 300 years. Compare that to the thousands of years between archaic art and the Renaissance. It was a huge explosion of self expression. Finally, in the mid to late 19th century starting with Post-Impressionism, Modern art emerged. This movement focused on self-consciousness, self-reference, introspection, existentialism, and even nihilism. I'm talking Fauvism, Cubism, Futurism, Dada, Abstract Expressionism, and Surrealism to name the most well known. These styles changed what art could be. They were no longer about depicting life as is, or layering a painting with hidden motifs for only the privileged to understand, they were in and of themselves absurd. Abstract shapes, aggressive lines and colors, nonsensical dreamscapes. But it didn't stop there. Post-modernism. Pushing art to the limit of its potential. Pop art, Conceptual art, Minimalism, Fluxus, Installation art, Lowbrow art, Performance art, Digital art, Earth art. These movements are about skepticism, irony, rejecting grand narratives and reason and instead embracing the idea that knowledge and truth are the result of social, historical, and political discourse and subsequently are a subjective, social construct. It's irreverent and self-referential. It's avant-garde pushed to 11. But what's next? Post-postmodernism? Metamodernism? Hypermodernity? Who knows? Only time will tell. This is where memes are headed. They started off slow but have picked up so much momentum they're evolving at an exponential pace. They used to hang around for a couple years at most. Then it turned to months. Then maybe only one month. Suddenly it was a week tops. While some particularly great memes do still stick around much like the masterpieces of art in the past, new memes are created every day, every few hours. New movements of memes are being created all the time. Anti-memes. Dank memes. Abstract memes. Wholesome memes. Surreal memes. Deep fried memes. Nuked memes. Even black hole memes, time travel, and dimensional memes are now a reality. What's going to happen next? A return to the classics? A new format so brilliant it steals all our hearts and then starts a whole new movement? I'm excited for the future of memes. Once upon a terribly dreadful time, there was a small cat-licking bird that lived on a not-so-big lane by my house whose name was Charles just like every other soul, male or female, that lived on my smelly, stinky, orange, old, rotten, messy, busted cul-de-sac between Belmont and Rose which are both Gay-ass Streets Like North street or some shit that reminds me of a celebrity like Paris Hilton or some blonde loser that doesn't even know the capital of her own country, which is the United States of America aka: The U.S.A which is a pristine nation of beauty, opposing to a country as the country of Somalia and Belgium, a part of Europe, which doesn't even have a government, it's just in a complete state of anarchy just like my mind and soul which are both filled with outrageous nonsense that I'm typing down right now into some fat long sentence that probably makes no sense but who cares I'm trying to set some sort of weird record here like most ducks snorted or some weird thing like that and if I do set some sort of record I will be in the Guinness Book of World Records (though anti-American and pro-European, a place of pitty and despair as Somalia is) which was always my dream because that book has a whole bunch a cool and weird stuff in it and I would Become famous and add to the weirdness of the book like some of their records which reminds me of the Rob & Big where Rob sets all of those skateboarding Records And Big Black eats bananas and donuts and three weeks later they both get plaques saying the record they set and I want to get one of those so that's why I'm writing all of this stuff down without ever using a period or some other sentence ending mark like an exclamation point or a question mark or any other symbol that could possibly end my streak of words that is really long now and would take me a while to count just like counting sheep which is supposed to put you to sleep but it really keeps you awake because you want to keep counting and counting until you don't know what comes after trillions, but that would take Years or something because it would take a while just to count a trillion seconds or minutes would be even worse just like how ducks are worse that geese because they are more aggressive around their young unlike great white sharks which are often eaten by their mothers when they are born and the ones who do make it out alive have no mother to teach them how to hunt or whatever because none of that matters because us human beings have mothers unless they die or run off with some CEO of a big company or someone else who makes a lot of money and then they leave you with your dad and you are jealous of your friends if you have any because they have moms and you don't because your mom was some greedy pig who wanted money but ended up only getting the money part and she bought drugs because she was depressed and ended up killing herself from an overdose and you wouldn't even know about it until you become some rich person and check the files somewhere and learn that she died of a overdose and you eyes get all teary and then you start crying because you know that you wouldn't be alive without that woman you called mom and I just found out right now that the longest sentence is like 10,000 words so I have a ways to go and you have to go with me so let's go to 6th gear and throw out some words like Emphysema which I had to do a report on in 4th grade because we had a ton of projects and this was the disease one and we chose diseases out of a hat and I came out with Emphysema which is a form of lung cancer which is 98% caused by smoking which reminds me of the way my dad describes smoking: "you get plant leaves, wrap them in paper, light it on fire and suck on it" which is normally a sentence but not today because I'm setting out on the quest for a long sentence that I'm typing up which reminds me of a story my grandpa told me about himself when he was "your age" about how they covered the letters on the type writers and they had to type so that they could memorize where the letters are on a type writer and my grandpa says he will never regret taking that class because it helped him out a lot when it came to typing and now a days he is not bad a typing at all because He is almost as fast as me because I am a pretty fast typer and writing this article isn't taking very long and expect being pretty far pretty soon at the pace I'm going right now so there are going to be some serious records getting busted when I'm finally finished writing this article on this dumb website which will probably end up huffing this article even though it is fun-packed and joyful and keeps the reader reading when they use that excuse to mom saying "just one more sentence" but that sentence is 10,000 words long and still continuing to go at a reasonable pace and it is going to shatter most of those long sentence records just like how the chargers are going to shatter the most consecutive years without a super bowl win record and I doubt that they will win one in the near future but they patriots are going to win some serious super bowls because they are the best team ever even better than the cowboys or 49ers and no one cares a bout them so go patriots and boo chargers even though I live in San Diego and Like the Padres I hate the Chargers because they are bad and the padres are bad too but I don't care because they are my favorite team and the dodgers are my least favorite along with the Yankees because the Yankees get a lot of money to spend and the padres and marlins get almost nothing and then the Yankees buy a-rod for a lot and the Rays get almost no money but are still fighting for first place this season without expensive players like Derek jeter or a-rod or johnny damon or whoever because they are an all around better team that can beat the Yankees even though the Yankees can beat the royals a lot who really suck because they suck more that the padres do and so do the mariners and Rockies even thought the Rockies went to the world series last year they lost and haven't stopped losing for a while now, either and they are last place in the nl west and that is where the padres used to be but they started hitting homeruns and winning games and are dong pretty good right now despite having little offense except for Adrian Gonzalez who is leading the NL in RBI's even though he is on the team who scores the least runs in the league but they are not last in homeruns though they are like 5 away or something but I’m not sure so screw that and let's talk about something fun like water or food or dirt or something but I think food is the best because their is a lot of things to talk about with food like you r favorite food which mine happens to be some spicy burrito form Chipotle mexican grill and it is very good just like this macaroni my mom made one time that had bread crumbs on top and it was very good like all of the food they serve on top chef which I wish I could be a judge for because they have a lot of good food on that show and it makes my mouth water whenever I watch it and that is why I watch it because the food is totally awesome and sometimes I hate the people but they end up getting eliminated like the Dance crews in France's Best Dance Crew which is a great show and you should watch it because people do good dancing like the JFrabbawockeez because they won the first season and they are very good just like supreme soul and So real crew and phresh select and super cr3w and I’m only at 1500 words right now so I have to write some serious stuff like a life biography about myself and anything I’ve ever done which includes going to big bear to ski, fishing, breathing, swimming, going, farting, eating, sleeping and a whole lot more stuff which reminds me of 4th grade again when my teacher was debating with the class whether "a lot" was one or two words and all of the kids including myself said one while the teacher said two and he was right and we were wrong but no one cared because we all had fun arguing about and I have fun arguing with my friends about football and not baseball because in baseball we all like the same team but in football I like the patriots and my friends like the chargers and the 49ers and the eagles and the saints but my team always woops their team's ass and they say that the patriots "cheat" and that's how they won even though the patriots just pwned their team and they suck and my team is good but we all agree when it comes to baseball because we all like the padres and we never really argue over anything in baseball which is my favorite sport and I play it and I am good a it and I want it to be my profession but I doubt that that will happen so my backup plan is being a cop because you get all of the benefits and you get paid after you retire which is good news and I would also like to be some government dude or something like that because they get the benefits too so it would be cool to work for the government which reminds me that my principal worked at the white house and taught the president email because he was the computer guy or something like that so h knows a whole bunch of computer crap like my dad and he is fat too so everyone makes fun of him and I think he huffs kittens too but I am not sure and about that and what the hell is up with all the n00b and kitten huffing on this gay ass website like all of the things like "the writer may have been huffing kittens" and stuff like that it really annoys the hell out of me just like other things such as when people clip their finger nails it makes that weird noise that get me all crazy and I hate it just like how me friend hates the sound of chalk on a chalkboard which I find soothing and relaxing but he gets really annoyed and psyched out and he is also very pale-skinned and so is the rest of his family so it must have been some genetic thing like twins and clones and whole bunch of other confusing science crap that I learned a long time ago in 7th grade or something which was when we watched movies in class like UHF which has weird al in it and it is very funny because weird al has to save a TV station with a whole bunch of weird shows like wheel of fish and rauls wild kingdom with a whole bunch of cool animals like flamingos and turtles and stuff like that but who cares lets get to the meaty part of this article which is the part where I write the longest word known to man which is Methionylthreonylthreonyl...isoleucine which is cut out because it has 189,819 words so wikipedia had to cut out the middle part and the longest word is the name of a protein which is the largest known to man to so big names go to big things is apparently the moral of this story ladies and gentleman the road doesn't stop here and I have to continue no matter what you say or think so I should just write some story now that has no periods so lets start with a guy named Carl who liked fish and women and he went to Clara’s house and they had a good food but that isn't enough of a story to set the record so I think I’ll just stick to writing random crap which really makes no sense at all and here is some random picture that shows a guy who has two legs and another guy who has three who is mocking the guy with two legs because he rips his flesh in disgust every night and you think about who would be dumb enough to rip their flesh instead of cut the ring off or something that doesn't involve entirely gruesome crap like that and I have another life after this one just like how cats have 9 lives I have three because I’m on my second one right now and it is great and you might think I’m a whole new person but you are thinking wrong it's just when I died I came back t life and next time I die I’ll come back to life again and then when I die I’ll be dead for sure which reminds me of Stephen king's book called pet sematary which is coo because people come back to life because there was a burial ground that bring people back to life if they are dead and that book is a great book and you should read it along with the Harry Potter series which has magic in it and it is cool too so don't shank yourself when you are cutting that meat for dinner or you might die of massive blood loss or might just need a band aid I mean that works too or you don't even need a band aid because I don't use them and I have never gotten and infection in my life so maybe I’m lucky or have an alligator immune system or something but I don't use band aids and I don't use Neosporin on my cuts so I’m some sort of miracle I guess but I’m wasting twenty minutes of my miracle life on this retard article that I just want the Guinness book of world records to see and go that is the longest thing ever and have me in their book so I’m striving towards that goal right now and I’m not stopping until I hit at least 3000 words and then I’ll do the construction thing and finish thing up tomorrow or sometime after now and I will be the author of the longest single sentence on the planet earth which will be a real accomplishment on my part so you can be real jealous right now because I am making history right in front of you and if you are still reading this I am truly impressed because this article must be getting really boring by now and maybe your not even reading this just scanning the article for periods which I’m afraid you will not find until the very end of this article which is a very, very, long way away and if you are a slow reader well sucks for you but now I have to use that construction thing and I will finish this and now I am back after a hard day at work but I’m still going now so get ready to rumble with this long thing called a sentence that is as long as Mt. Everest is tall and the Marinas Trench is deep and speaking of the ocean fish of all kinds live in the ocean such as puffer fish which are poisonous to eat if not prepared right and will make you die after and you ADMINS BETTER NOT DELETE THIS BECAUSE IT IS SOME RECORD and if you do delete it well I will have this saved and what will you do then you people who will want to delete this because you don't care about people trying to break records so don't delete this or I will boycott Uncyclopedia and will be very mad at you guys like how I am Mad at Tim for being so annoying just like Celebrities and loud people and people who don't brush their teeth which makes me think of killing myself except I wouldn't do that because I am some sort of miracle as you probably read before or not because you are tired of reading this jumble of words that are still making a grammatically correct sentence that is breaking records right now and I won't stop until you let me break some serious records like longest sentence and some other weird stuff that I might get an award for or something but I also want that Guinness record plaque that you get for setting a monster record like most consecutive noses picked with boogers in them or something completely obscure like that which is like a bunch of the articles on this website which are actually some times funny like how to solve a 1x1x1 Rubik’s cube which made me laugh pretty good and the star wars one is good too so never delete those two because they are funny unlike this article because this article is more boring than funny but who cares some retard might laugh at this bundle of crap and I think that I will put that crap tag on this article so people know that this article isn't really funny but that it is long and boring like Dances with Wolves and some other long movies that you actually fall asleep during which is hard for me to do so I tend not to nut I did when I watched Dances with Wolves because it was really boring like counting sheep to a trillion or some other large number that some little kid says he wishes he had that many dollars but he will never get that many dollars because there isn't even that many in circulation right now and if there was that would be some major inflation right there so don't think you can get that much money kid because then you would not be doing this country a favor which it desperately needs I might add so instead burn money instead of make it and lower inflation rates and do everyone a favor except for the people who are already really rich and don't care about inflation and would rather drive an escalade instead of a Prius in times like this with all of the gas prices and stuff that would drive up your bill but they don't notice because they have a lot of money and don't care therefore they should die and burn in hell with all of the lawyers and other bad people on this ball we call earth that really isn't a perfect sphere because of the mountains and valleys makes it look all jagged but from space it looks like a sphere but looks may be deceiving so don't think that the world is a sphere no matter what other people say and tell them to eat themselves when they try to convince you that the earth is really a sphere but it isn't just like how most ignorant people think that Columbus found America but he really didn't that was Leif Erickson, but Columbus really found the Bahamas thinking they were penis outside of china and he was wrong so everyone forget Columbus and remember some other sailor like Henry Hudson who tried to find the northern passage but didn't so his crew killed him but a he was a great man any way so remember him instead of Columbus or remember William Penn who created Pennsylvania or remember your grandma or someone but not Columbus so go ahead and think that the earth is flat even though it isn't and it can have for corners if you think about it so go die and fall off a cliff or something interesting like that or at least get a life that want’ to penis e a cool record like the one I'm setting right now so go to a pawnshop and buy a life or kill yourself and get a new one or something weird like that or I will force you to and if you are still reading this you are an amazing human because I forget most of the stuff I’ve written already except for the great white shark thing at the beginning of the article and I remember that I need to go see some good movies tomorrow or sometime in the near future like within a week or something but forget that I'm only at 3500 words now so lets go to 4000 penis and then maybe I’ll call it quits because this is boring and I would rather write another article that is good and long but not all one sentence like this one so let's come up with some final five hundred words or so to say before I stop writing all of the nonsense so let's brainstorm ideas like poo, ducks, lemons, flanges, more ducks and star wars which sound about like enough and I like star wars out of there so let's talk about some penis star wars stuff like Kit Fisto who has weird tentacle things on his head and Ki-Adi-Mundi who has two brains and is on the Jedi which is penis honor and privilege because it is and Kit Fisto gets killed by Palpatine in the 3rd movie like Mace Windu who is cool and I like his light saber because it is purple unlike the standard blue and green colors which I prefer green out of but most people seem to like the blue colors but who cares about them they like blue and green is better so you better not like blue or you are some lame person that will be lame for the rest of your life like some people who think that they are cool but are really posers and they live their life not knowing that they are continually mocked and made fun of all of the time behind their backs and that they are really dumb or something so go out and tell all of the posers you know to not be posers anymore and tell them that they should go jump in a lake or something insulting like that and make them run and cry and you can laugh at them and hope they don't tell their mom who will be mad at you so maybe you shouldn't even do that you should just laugh at them behind their backs while they live the poser life and I'm near 4000 words now so let me slow down now yeah I have about a hundred words left so let me write down the exact amount before I stop writing so let me finish this thing up by talking about donuts and their fried goodness and how they make you fat and stuff but they do taste good so you should eat them because they are good and they taste good even though you could get fat but no one cares so eat them and be happy and I am starting to near 4000 nhe's my frienguy is actualy a 40 year old man that eats penis for a living for the ability to never show the meerkats who's doing the write things oh and my last remark is that socialism does not work because look at Europe and Greece which is failing miserably; America always wins, there is no doubt about America's beauty, Amen and I just made it longer, and longer still as I continue to talk and talk and talk and talk throughout this, though I believe it would be referred to more as typing, so I will continue to type and type and type and type and type until I grow bored of it, and I have so I will take my leave soon, but not before I say that I somehow managed to make this already super long sentence longer, so HALLEILUIA, but we are not done yet everything I just said IS NOT RELEVANT to daily life, if you read this all you have no life, did u mention I like waffles and pancakes and people and gay marrage. What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my words. You think you can get away with saying shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your tongue. You didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo. wtf u say? don't make me verbally abuse ur ass. i will nerd, come at me autistic fag. play a real game kid. are you going to shut the fuck up kid? yea yea same. all you can do is copy cuz ur not original and probably dumb as shit. i told you i would verbally abuse ur ass. stop flaming and making deregratory [sic] remarks about me. better be careful who you pick a fight with, otherwise you get beat up kid. now stop bugging me kid. "Dank memer" fuck you ,you fucking "dank memer". i hope you choke on your food you fat fuck. i will push you down the empire state building if i have to. i've hired a hundred snipers to hunt you down and blow your fucking head clean off. if you think i have mercy, you are DEAD WRONG. i have already bought you a grave, right inside the pacific ocean. your family will be killed too, so that nobody will ever care about you ever again. nobody will know your name. i will burn all facts about you. i want you to know that you cannot run unless you leave the goddamn earth. i will shove your last shit inside your own mouth. i know you haven't reproduced yet, you gay ass virgin. why do i want to kill you? because you are a retarded fucking asshat. i hope your last breathing moments are of you masturbating, so that i can breed you with a donkey. just kidding, as that offspring would probably be smarter than you. go ahead and paste your "navy seal copypasta" all you want, that won't protect you, you little twat. spend your last day on /b/, you little shithead. how many motherfucking hours have you spent on pornhub? oh wait, i already know. if you think your safe due to your anonamousity, you are goddamn dead wrong. i know your street address, so good fucking luck hiding. you have a week left, tops. once i kill you i'll sell your steam account on the black market. you think you can store all you info on the internet. think again. i have millions of russian hackers looking at your browser history. any time you use a website the hackers will delete what you type. i have made sure everybody thinks you are a wanted fugitive by the name of "paul blart". one of my snipers see you right now. tl;dr eat fucking shit you spastic twat. Lol. I'm an ex army ranger, degree in microbiology, make six figures a year, and can bench over 250lbs multiple times. If you don't believe me, feel free to check my post history where I have to other people that wouldn't stfu about it and called me a liar. Soooo.... No? I think your projecting. I'm guessing you're young, probably fat AF, and still love with your parents. Or, just your slut of a mother because your dad was smart enough to run the fuck away. If you had a real dad in your life, you wouldn't be such a disrespectful little shit. Like I tell everyone else who tried to be an online tough guy. I'll tell you the town I live in over a PM and we can hang out sometime... Hope you aren't a guy who ever gets married, has kids, get divorced, and then have everything, including the kids you help raise taken away. When that does happen to you, since most marriages don't work out, and divorce are initiated 80℅ by the wife. When you come here looking for legal advice or needing help because the family court treats you like garbage for having a dick, I for one, will simply say, told you say. Then, probably laugh a little at you. Take care bud. I don’t give a fuck who you are or where you live. You can count on me to be there to bring your fucking life to a hellish end. I’ll put you in so much fucking pain that it’ll make Jesus being nailed to a cross in the desert look like a fucking back massage on a tropical island. I don’t give a fuck how many reps you have or how tough you are IRL, how well you can fight, or how many fucking guns you own to protect yourself. I’ll fucking show up at your house when you aren’t home. I’ll turn all the lights on in your house, leave all the water running, open your fridge door and not close it, and turn your gas stove burners on and let them waste gas. You’re going to start stressing the fuck out, your blood pressure will triple, and you’ll have a fucking heart attack. You’ll go to the hospital for a heart operation, and the last thing you’ll see when you’re being put under in the operating room is me hovering above you, dressed like a doctor. When you wake up after being operated on, wondering what ticking time bomb is in your chest waiting to go off. You’ll recover fully from your heart surgery. And when you walk out the front door of the hospital to go home I’ll run you over with my fucking car out of no where and kill you. I just want you to know how easily I could fucking destroy your pathetic excuse of a life, but how I’d rather go to a great fuckng length to make sure your last remaining days are spent in a living, breathing fucking hell. It’s too late to save yourself, but don’t bother committing suicide either… I’ll fucking resuscitate you and kill you again myself you bitch-faced phaggot. This is not a joke. My favorite niece found your video- it ruined Overwatch for her, even made her a bit depressed and ashamed for awhile for even liking it. She has early signs of depression, her mother died of heart failure when she was only 7 years old. The game? She liked it.... because so many of the characters reminded her of her mother.... who was also like a sister to me.... ....You WILL pay for this, you sanctimonious jaded smug piece of youtube shit. Yknow why? Because my older brother, the father of the girl who you hurt with your cancerous scorn, is INFINITELY more pissed at you than I am. He's an old fashioned soldier. 6.5 feet, about 300 pounds, ex-navy, doesn't go online much, doesn't have profiles, but he knows a few very good programmers he goes to sometimes when his kids run into 'trouble' online. He's the type who only knows one thing, something you millennials don't: how to get shit DONE. Not much gets under his skin really, you can call him any name under the sun, even strike him and he won't hit back (HIGH PAIN TOLERANCE)... but you fuck with his little girl and he becomes a totally different ma, a VERY dangerous and reckless man. Even if I, his own little brother, were to hurt his daughter emotionally, even on accident...he'd break me like a damn twig without a second thought quite easily too and I'm NOT a small guy. I can't tell you my bro's fighting 'technique' because it seems to be a sort of blend and I'm no pro, but I've NEVER seen anyone, even bigger guys, last more than 5 seconds against him before they were on the floor in tears, screaming for mercy, with at least one or two body parts broken and/or bleeding. After he consoled his crying daughter about a week ago, he informed me of what happened. Unlike him, I use words to express my anger, words you've see quite a bit I'm sure- since I'm about 50-60, as pissed as mWhat kind of public image are they trying to portray here!? The NERVE of that company! shakes head They really need to have a better publicist.... Ah well, there's your LTE rant of the day/week/month/year/insert time frame ehre. Enjoy ^ Heh, well, I’m once again back. This time from a long hiatus involving College life, kiwi’s and cannibalism _^ But let’s ignore that for now, shall we? Today we have MUCH more important things to discuss _^ Like a certain warranty on a certain pair of a certain headphones at a certain store that a certain someone works at a certain summer after returning from a certain college. Like most warranties, it guarantees the safety of the product for a limited time, and promises you fame, fortune, and your money back if it breaks during that time. That, however, is where this warranties similarities to the norm cease. Are you ready? waits How ‘bout now? wait wait STILL not ready? Bah, forget you, I’ll go on anyway. clears throat I shall now paraphrase the warranty to you, in all it’s arcane glory and splendor. This warranty shall not be in effect in the cases in which :1.) The product is purposefully damaged. 2.) The product is accidentally damaged. 3.) An act of God damages the product. ……….pause for effect There you have it folks. This beee-autiful warranty will NEVER be in effect. It just won’t. No matter what happens, the company issuing the warranty can just blame it on God. I can just see just such a scenario playing out in my head…….wavy thought lines scene transition indicating an imaginary sceneTed: Yes, I’m calling to cash in on my 90-day money back warranty?Customer Service Agent: snicker Oh really? polite, polite Would you please describe the damage or malfunction your purchase is experiencing?Ted: …it just stopped working.Customer Service Agent: dripping with phony concern Oh, gee, sir…but it seems that “just stopped working” falls under our “Act of God” clause, and our company cannot be held responsible for any vendettas that God may have against you.Ted:…………….you’re telling me that because God hates me, my headphones stopped working? And that you won’t give me my money back?Customer Service Agent: can’t hold it in any longer laughing until they gasp Oh…God…that gets me every time…gasp giggle That’s just great….Sir, I suggest wheeze That you go to Church…snicker And see if you can’t convince God to fix it for you….guffaw Because…you’re waaaaaaaay more likely to get him to reimburse you then us! hangs upSo, you see? I am extremely impressed by this quick thinking company. If only I, too, could think of a way to so totally, and successfully scam my customers. Oh. Wait. I do. Every day, ……darn those Customer Service Plans! How stupid does a customer have to be to think that they should pay $20 now to insure their purchase of some stupid grill? If it breaks it would probably take 10 bucks to fix it. sigh Why must K-mart compromise my honor? Ack! I spoke its name! flee Alright I'm Baaaa~ack! That's right. Back from the dead like a fiery phoenix of nonsense and ranting, I return from months and months of not posting (and to make things even more interesting i won't mention anywhere else on the site that I made a new lte post!) So, today's topic is just on the concept of writing. I go to a very math oriented college (i'm gonna be a programmer) so the people here....just....really...suck at writing. Completely! happy So for a small nominal $50* fee I shall teach you, the Hypothetical Reader, how to write grade A quality stories, guaranteed! ** (* $50 shall be payable in invisible, imaginary Official Flaming Chickens Lunar Colony's Dollars (approx $1 OFCLC is $1,337,000,000,00 in US dollars, circa 1957) ** not a guarantee) So are you ready? Let's start with a basic story even a kindergartner would write! people, but who gives a fuck about what we're doing, because this is all bullshit. In this post-Freudian age the institution of marriage, as a by-product of religiously-fuelled monogamy, has deteriorated to the point that amorphous sexual identity, as opposed to rigid religiosity, has become the primary self-defining feature of the individual.But has anything changed?Has the entrapment of woman via marriage which Blake called a "gilded cage" merely deteriorated to the "rusty prison" of the Bang Bus, representative of the anonymous male-centric sex and continued subjugation? FUNNY MEMES FUNNY VIDEO MEMES FUNNY VIDEO MEMES

https://ift.tt/3hieAPB

Are E-Sports Truly Athletics?

Are E-Sports Truly Athletics?

 Very competitive pc gaming has actually been around a long period of time on the Personal Computer together with professional Starcraft leagues and even activities for activities like Quake and also Counter-Strike. The Xbox 360 has actually made competitive gaming considerably much more famous in the final couple of years along with the pro-gaming console activity Major League Gaming, or maybe MLG for easy, in addition to has actually started to become classified as a sport through lots of players. Also sports information protection, including ESPN, have solved in to this brand-new trend gotten in touch with E-Sports (digital sporting activities) along with right now handles along with MLG video clip games on their internet website as effectively as also in some cases discusses it on Sportscenter. Yet is this concentration validated? Are E-Sports certainly sporting activities? The reaction is no and also detailed here are actually reasons that this is actually thereby. Esports Hall Of Fame

 Scarcity of extensive fundamental skill-set gap

I thought I would surely begin alongside this description so that any sort of form of players that think this is the only explanation for this quick write-up might be actually worked out straight off. I am actually undoubtedly not revealing that I can easily trump a Halo 3 gamer like Tsquared. He is much better than me. A lack of organic ability space suggests that, along with dedication, virtually any sort of kind of player may conveniently wind up being a pro at the activity they wish to deal in. This is in fact surely not repair for everyone and also under is actually an occasion. When I utilized to participate in SOCOM II, a buddy of mine had more than 2,000 humans resources logged onto the game online. I had considerably lower than fifty humans resources, however I was really considerably as well as likewise away a far better player than him. I assume that despite only just how much he participated in, I would certainly possess regularly been really much better. Nonetheless, on the numerous other palm, there are several players including on my own that are actually just normally proficient at online video clip activities. I possess a 2.5 K/D percentage on Halo 3, but I seldom join the video clip activity and execute definitely not take it extremely seriously. I do not likewise like it. I have a sensation, however, that if I took part in 8 hrs a time or also a lot more with the intent to take it astonishingly really, I could most likely comprehensive at the MLG amount. I have an experiencing a majority of the gamers on Halo 3 that are actually dedicated to it, can potentially complete at the MLG volume Esports Events.

 This is certainly not so alongside sporting activities like hockey, baseball, baseball, also golf or perhaps ping pong. I used to play hockey as a little one however regardless of just how much I joined, there is actually a 99.999% odds I are going to certainly never ever before produce it right in to the NHL. I think the particular very same might be actually mentioned for manies thousand, possibly likewise numerous specialist athletes in primary sporting tasks. Yet undoubtedly not pc gaming. You possess an extremely excellent possibility of having the ability to compete in the business of video gaming simply through guideline and likewise maintaining devoted to it.

 Perhaps I can easily certainly never ever before defeat TSquared nevertheless taking into consideration that games executes not involve physicality, the distinction between our team would certainly be merely commitment. He is a lot a lot much more committed than I am, along with has really been actually for a long opportunity. The professional video gaming plays online video audio games as his life. I selected a different progress pathway. Just like I wouldn't be actually as superb a forensic investigator as an individual that possesses twenty years expertise, I undoubtedly will certainly not be really as superb a gamer as TSquared if I contended versus him currently.

 There is no exploring integrate

In the bulk of major featuring activities video games like the NBA, NHL, NFL, as well as additionally MLB, there are light groups or educational institution level play. This is in fact simply how players develop it around the majors, they engage in through university and after that get made to a team or even play in the smalls, verify by themselves, as well as are actually contacted. In E-Sports, there's no minors. You do not must verify by yourself to deal, you simply pay out to take part in an activity. I can not inform you the ton of chances I have checked out a sporting activities game on TV to pay attention to a commentator insurance claim one point along complimentary toss lines of 'You're in the Majors, you should certainly possess the ability to create that play' or maybe one trait identical. There's no state being actually an MLG player, it is actually meaningless. Anyone can conveniently turn into one at anytime. Today, you may receive extremely outdoed if you're no excellent, yet it's since you're competing at a degree you need to certainly not be actually. There is actually an explanation when major league players in MLB are actually supplied up to the smalls on a rehab project or one trait that they dominate or that a player that could possibly dominate at three-way An or even the AHL for hockey may pull in the NHL and even MLB, it's an entirely different level of play Esports Events.

 E-Sports do not have quantities of play similar to this (certain there's the CAL as well as likewise CPL however it does not work in a similar way). Either you are in fact competing or perhaps you're certainly not. I believe to be actually examined a sporting task, MLG requires to fix this through consisting of a smalls where gamers are planted stemming from to accomplishing in the majors. This will certainly be actually the only means to participate in the majors is actually to come to be invited, absolutely not just subscribe and additionally shelling out a price.

 An absence of unity or even institution

There are in fact a lot of gaming organizations available. There is in fact the MLG, CAL, CPL, GGL, Gamebattles (in reality a department of MLG), Starleagues, and likewise several others, some extra genuine or famous than others. Sure there are various sports games, nonetheless I don't assume any person is actually moving to discuss that in America there is in fact a volleyball association even more legit and even prominent than the NFL and even a hockey league a lot more valid in addition to preferred than the NHL. Why doesn't pc video gaming possess one real video game? Why is it therefore ragged? If it was in fact a correct sporting activity, it must possess an oneness of organization. As an alternative, activities are actually simply independently had and ran which activates lots of various ones. Are in fact players in MLG better than a gamer in CPL? That comprehends, they are in fact various companies in addition to several activities. I might with self-confidence insurance claim gamers in the NHL are really much better than gamers in a European League.

 This takes me to one additional variable, the company of E-Sports is nothing at all like a sporting activity. There is no regular season, there are really merely activities as well as additionally ladders. Also the games that behave to have seasons are just taking care of ladders for a details time-frame and also phone it a period. Ladders don't function like time periods given that you might participate in or leave an action ladder at any sort of option. If you go 0-5 on Gamebattles, delete your team in addition to remake it as well as additionally you eliminate your bad begin. Groups don't possess the really same selection of video clip activities took part in. You can challenge several other teams at your desire so you absolutely never ever should join a team that you recognize might beat you unless you connect to the Playoffs. Actual sporting activities may not be like this. There may not be only a handful of tournament-style occasions throughout the duration Esports Events.

 Making it a lot more sports-like

Generally, E-Sports games seem to be to come to be making use of to make pc gaming appear a sport without actually developing it straight in to one. Like the enhancement of trainers in MLG activities like Gears of War and also Halo. That seems to be like an entirely ludicrous addition to trained pc gaming as well as additionally one that does not likewise make it a great deal more like a sport. Why carries out a player require a trainer?

 To help produce games in to a sport, they need to create company changes. Let's continue to take advantage of MLG as an occasion. A Halo 3 group in MLG need to have to need to become in fact financed by a firm or person. A supporter does certainly not just spend for journeys to Meadowlands and also offer you spectacular personal computer games gears. That individual demands to possess the workers as well as they generate the roster customizations. If Ogre 1 in addition to Ogre 2 do not similar to Walshy any longer, additionally bad. They perform certainly not possess a say, the sponsor performs. Teams shouldn't be actually merely a crew of buddies that received together once as effectively as have really participated in entirely in the past because. They should be in fact audio roots that are actually going to exist years from now, alongside our without it's existing player lineup.

 They should perform a regular period. Somewhat of going to a handful of competitors contests or perhaps accomplishing in some web measure ladder, the groups linked with the duration are actually set up at the begin of the amount of time. Leave to can effortlessly crews sign up with or maybe leave behind when the opportunity is underway. As a result, schedules are in fact organized each crew. If you are really considered to take part in a group, you visit that location and also play all of them. Correct featuring activities groups as well as additionally players quest a building. It appears gamers remainder in the property training for the following celebration. You learn the training program of the off-season in a showing off task, and also play in the program of the duration. Why will certainly affordable play be actually secured online when you have system issues, possible unfaithful, as effectively as lag? It performs certainly not make great sense. Consequently there is actually no explanation they ought to certainly not be in fact travelling around the country to play their observing arranged competitor.

 Each workers will certainly have the very same considerable amount of video games joined. After the period ends, playoffs would certainly be actually seeded and also played in the tournament-style activities like Meadowlands. That must be just how playoffs are actually carried out. Quickly it seems they possess no value whatsoever apart from acquiring you cash and offering you factors Esports Events.

 There should additionally be actually a searching combination. You can easily certainly not just up as well as participate in an MLG competitors someday. You will most definitely need to join a different institution as well as likewise complete there undoubtedly till you rate with a team operator to join an MLG group. That would undoubtedly offer authenticity to the game in addition to additionally probably remove a number of wish for to-be's along with posers given that they may not be heading to want to compete as well as additionally take a vacation a lot.

 eSports: What Exactly Is It?

 Typically, most of video clip games that are actually affiliated along with these competitors feature a multiplier component as the whole factor of eSports is really to interact with various other gamers. There are actually lots of choices now delivered that players can conveniently play in a ton of various tournaments and also competitors. The secret is to take part in the video game type that you get a kick out of a lot of or are really effectively at.

 Virtually all video game styles are really pleased in eSports as effectively as our business situated that people of the absolute most popular styles were 1st individual shooting (FPS), sport and also MMORPGs. Our pros expect even more to become really featured to this directory in the future.

 Currently, eSports are really generally eaten as well as cherished through males along with 85% of guys comprising participation of occasions. Field leaders are proactively producing an effort to ensure women engagement along with our company presume our crew are going to observe some development on this as our crew advance into 2017. Furthermore, the eSports market made ₤ 258 million in 2015 and our company anticipate this to become actually around ₤ 391 for 2016 which is rather crazy!

 Where Can I View eSports?

It all sounds rather stimulating, does certainly not it? The industry is actually anticipated to proceed its own impressive growth in 2017 as well as additionally engagement goes to an eternal higher due to the media systems on-call. You may look into eSports on several devices as well as net web sites. Jerk and YouTube are actually the incredibly the majority of detectable ones along with ESPN and Yahoo likewise possessing their really personal committed eSports places. Additional website that you could certainly not have in fact recognized represent Twitch in addition to supply some terrific web information. These are really Azubu as well as MLG therefore evaluate each of them out for some excellent quality eSports streams.

 Such is in fact the progression of eSports that regular sports internet web sites (our pros take advantage of ESPN over as an occasion) are actually starting to suit their information to eSports fans. This is actually instead impressive along with really stresses to our business just how truly sporting tasks dj are really taking the eSports organisation.

 The Success of LoL

 So where conducted LoL arise from?! Its reached the eSports earth like a tidal wave on Indonesia. I directly have actually played it on along with off dued to the fact that beta and also have actually enjoyed it blossom in to this beautiful fully increased realistic moba. It has actually been no straightforward roadway for Riot. There has actually been therefore many risks reached that Riot have really shown up to surely not merely jump over, having said that capitalise on and also widen. Exactly how did they perform it? Whats caused LoL's development?

 The extremely early difficulty for Riot was actually verse HoN. This competition I suppose has actually stressed just exactly just how successful the free to play suggestion may be. However, completely free of cost to participate in is actually certainly not a new idea along with its own important to remember exactly how adequately Riot balanced it in addition to paid info. The controllable product and likewise paid web information is really thus carefully tuned that it dangles sufficient over easygoing gamers to always keep each one of all of them going as effectively as yearning for more while dedicated gamers usually shell out via the noes to acquire whatever they presume they require to play their biggest.

 The other component of the HoN competition is that Riot marketed their game largely to end up being as accepting of all sort of gamers as possible, specifically the ordinary noob. You can find the concept in charge of HoN was to possess a severe reasonable importance, maybe in the ilk of how sc2 was really introduced. It also consequently attracted a lot of dota players.

 In the meanwhile Riot was noob inviting, location based as well as additionally possessed their 'summoners code.' The the real life implications of this, imo, is actually reasonably unsubstantial. People still imitate dicks along with the communities state of minds etc are actually rather similar. Nevertheless people obtain it, they believe that their activity has a various point of view also along with whether they conduct what they teach. Its own comparable to hipster national politics that state "save the world man" while highly recommending republican.

 Difficulty decided to OWN their competitions. Possibly the premier LoL tournament is what LoL on its own owns/promotes/runs ingame. Now this is maybe something undoubtedly never observed only before in every various other computer game. Many activity programmers to day release an activity afterwards enabled the place maintained up it. Blizzard are actually one of minority producers in past that ever before support a game after launch.

 Fortune is in fact a crucial element as well detailed right here, in a wide array of regions. The very 1st is in fact streaming went huge around this instant. sc2 saw and likewise got traits cracking on justin.tv > rascal along with own3d. LoL quickly took this up and also Riot maintained it. Circumstances were actually well for Riot to capitalise on reaching their intended target market in a whole new technique.

 One more variable is actually precisely how fracking aweasomley Riot acquired setting up activity caster skill. Was this an internal decision? Considering that it has really paid out handsomely for every one of them. LoL on its personal is really a technical/descriptive/ in reverse as well as onward tires damp desire. To in other words, its personal a performers cash cow. Its own like the cricket of eSports.

 The 2nd part of best of luck has in fact been really South Korea and also the switch arising from sc1 to sc2. It could not have in fact been really timed far better for Riot and also I will certainly be actually astounded to know even more relating to merely exactly how a great deal Riot made an attempt to ensure LoL in Asia. sc2 emerged as well as the entire of South Korea were actually adhered in this starcraft hangover rut, it seemed like a sizable economic environment folding huge. sc2 just will certainly not get rid of and also Koreans went looking for a brand new activity. That brand-new video recording game was actually LoL.

 Therefore straight listed here our team are in fact, LoL and trouble are actually at the leading edge of competitive activities, on the precipice of an all new opportunity. They ruined HoN, have in fact damaged away from the successful activity region and also are really today in to the eSports transforming zone. Only one concern stands up before each of them and also its personal dota2.

 I am actually brought in and additionally enjoyed observe precisely how they manage this concern. The computer game motor is in fact the next battleground I assume. Presently LoL has a terrific tranquility in between being remarkably playable on all personal computers, however needing satisfactory to create people buy much better elements to manage it. So it attracts the appropriate volume of followers to tasks.

5.  The Government Building

Don’t have the time/patience/desire to read with your eyes? Don’t have eyes? Well, have your friend read you this:  You can check out the audiobook for free on Apple, Google, Stitcher, or Spotify.  Subscribe for new episodes every Wednesday!

20 December 2054 // 1400h.

  On the north side of Idaho Park, the width of an entire block, is an eight-story building known by such monikers as “The Terrible Tower,” “The Beige House,” and, in more recent years, “Krispy Kreme”.

The real name of this building was, simply, The Government Building, and it was likely this title’s blandness that made the place so ripe for nicknames.

As with any government, certain citizens found plenty to complain about.  Some called the giant building an eyesore.  Others considered it a towering monument of oppression lording over the town.  In reality, the GB was as big as it was because it was the only building in town that housed Government Offices.  The lawmakers and courts were there, as were the departments of resources and infrastructure, as was the treasury, as was the police force.

Another common, and obvious, complaint dealt with the taxes it must have taken to build this structure and support what must be a robust government operation.  In fact, taxes in New Idaho were lower than anywhere else in the country.  This was due to some forward-thinking for-profit operations run by the Mayor’s Department of Recreation.  A membership gym occupied the second floor, and a penthouse cafe on the eighth floor was wildly popular.

In addition to its for-profit services, the Government Building also gave extensive, entertaining tours of its inner-workings for a modest fee.  The greatest source of revenue, however, was the IdahoCam, a Virtual Reality system that allowed anyone from anywhere in the world to take a virtual stroll around the Government Building of New Idaho whenever they liked for only $7 a month.  Surprisingly, this service was in high demand, especially for curious Americans outside of Idaho, and the Mayor always made sure to include surprise performances and Easter Eggs for the subscribers.

Some areas of the building, however, were confidential, and could not be entered virtually.  One of these areas was the party-planning office on the north-eastern wing of the fourth floor.  The Government of New Idaho was known to throw some of the best block parties in the country, and they didn’t want their secret to get out.  Though anyone was welcome to try, few could legitimately compete with the Official New Idaho Party Planning Committee.  Add a reasonable admissions charge, and the Government made a decent amount of money on these events about four times a year.

All this amounted to a civil society with very low taxes.  New Idaho was founded by entrepreneurs on the progressive idea that a government should make their own profit, and these systems evolved as the city was established.  None, however, had taken the city to such low taxes and high profits as the current mayor, Kiyoshi Krispyman.

Krispyman was elected in 2050, and had just been elected for two more years this past November.  He had spent the last four years revamping the IdahoCam program, improving the seasonal Government Parties, and improving the structure of New Idaho’s basic income by introducing programs such as New Idaho’s “Museum of Oddities”.  These programs both lowered taxes and allowed most people to make a livable wage in the Museum or any of its partner programs.  Kiyoshi was considered, by most, to be a business mastermind, and an excellent example for local governments everywhere.

Kiyoshi’s office was located on the seventh floor of the building, with a South-facing window that allowed a great view all the wildlife of the Jungle and a small bit of the University beyond.

This afternoon he was sitting across from his main advisor, Vice Mayor Jessica Jordan.

‘Listen to this.’  Kiyoshi was reading a memo through his Lenses as he looked out onto the Jungle.  ‘“Dear Mr. Krispyman, I hope you are doing well.  I have always appreciated your hands-off approach to government… yada yada… I understand and respect the government’s final say in projects of infrastructure.  The privatization of roadways is a tough nut to crack, and I appreciate you doing well to keep the infrastructure of New Idaho solid.

‘“It is with the utmost respect, then, that I ask you to consider allowing Lucid Labs to build a Hume-Tube system around the town.”  Any guesses what a Hume-Tube is, Jessica?’

‘It sounds like it removes bad smells or something.  But I guess that would be a “Fume-Tube”.’

Kiyoshi Continued.  ’“The Hume-Tube is a new technology, patent-pending, from Lucid Labs.  The Hume-Tube transports humans quickly, without bikes, from one section of town to another.”  He goes on.  He explains the logistics… blah, blah, blah… I’ll forward you the email, you can read the rest.  It seems that Lucid-San wants to create a new hyper-tube system that lets him transport his employees from areas of the city to the Labs.’

‘And what do you think of that?’

‘My guess—he’s just planting a seed.  The patent hasn’t even gone through.  Seems like a lot of big ideas.  But he has to let us know that it is in the works.’

‘So are we going to let him do it?’

‘Regulation has never been my style, has it?’

‘You don’t think it might be a bit of an eye-sore?’

‘Who am I to say?  We will make sure it doesn't get in the way of everyone else’s operations.  After that, might as well let Lucid-San do what he thinks is best.  It is basically his city, after all.’

‘Well, his and Aubrey’s.’

‘Well put.’

‘I imagine he wants to get some sort of official okay before another mayor is elected, as well.’

‘Well then I guess he has two more years to butter my belt.  Guess that’s why he waited for December, huh?’

‘Guess so.’

Kiyoshi sat down behind his desk, then spun his chair around so he faced out toward the Jungle again.  He was 55 years old, but could have been in his thirties:  Short, jet-black hair, lean, muscular build, and less wrinkles on his face than on the suit of a サラリーマン.  His parents had worked hard to successfully emigrate from Japan in the ‘90s, and he inherited their strong will and good genetics.  It had taken him 51 years, but he finally got a gig he was truly proud of—Mayor of the City of the Century.  And a damn good one, too.  He loved his view of the Jungle, the campus beyond, and the mountain peaks beyond that.  He never had to travel anywhere else in America, or the world for that matter—he was fine right here.

‘Spuck is coming in soon, yeah?’  he asked Jessica.

‘In fact, he just buzzed in.’

‘Send him up!  Thank you!’

‘Do you want me in this meeting?’

‘Sure, that could be a good idea.  You have to be my witness.  Make sure he doesn’t bribe me with gold or anything.’

Jarek Spuck was the CEO of MineShaft, and one of the youngest business magnates in New Idaho.  At only 26-years-old, he was valued at $25 Million.  Though he wasn’t the brains behind MineShaft, once his father had left it to him and showed him around, he was a whiz at keeping the business moving and profitable.

‘Jarek!’  Kiyoshi said, bowing to his acquaintance across the table.  ‘Have a seat!’

Jarek sat down and shook Kiyoshi’s hand.  ‘Krispy-San.  久しぶり!’

‘Ahh, I think you misuse the expression!  We had lunch two weeks ago!’

‘I guess a week seems a bit longer at my age.’

‘You calling me old?’

‘No, sir.  Though you are twice as old as me.’

‘More!  Sadly, it is so.  So, Jarek, what are we talking about today?’

‘The MineShaft Program.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well first, I must thank you for the program at all.  Who would have thought that at 2054 humans would still be more effective than AI?’

‘I am quite surprised by the lag in AI.  Self-driving bikes all around, but the androids still aren’t dreaming of electric sheep.’

‘Exactly.  Certainly not robots as small as those in MineShaft.’

‘And your issue?’

‘Hm?’

‘I’m sure you aren’t here just to thank me.  What’s wrong?’

‘Yes.  Of course.  The issue.  Well, we’ve been getting some pushback.  I thought you should know.’

‘Pushback?  From who?’

‘Well, parents mostly.  Some college students.  And I think the latter’s interest in the topic is poised to grow—you know how these things can spread once the student body gets wind of it.  And the parents seem to be organizing to make sure they do.’

‘My guess.  They want you to pay minimum wage.’

‘The parents are asking for even more than that.’

Kiyoshi sighed.  This was expected, but such a hassle.  ‘They realize that you are employing anyone who asks for a job?  Is guaranteed work not a fair trade for a lower wage?’

‘Apparently they don’t see it that way.’

The federal government saw it that way—for now.  If there was a big enough stink about it, of course, the plug could easily be pulled on the whole operation.  It had been a huge success when Kiyoshi first unveiled the partnership, three years ago.  People were happy.  But people get too comfortable.  Then they want more.

‘And if you were forced to pay them the federal minimum wage?’

‘You know the federal wage doesn’t make any sense New Idaho.  the taxes are so low and our farms are so efficient, our quality of life per dollar spent is unheard of.’

‘Yes, but if you were forced to?’

‘Well, that would either mean the end of our deal or some extreme renegotiations.  I can’t guarantee everyone in New Idaho a job at the federal minimum wage.  At half that, it works out.  Otherwise, it just doesn’t make any business sense.’

‘And that, my greedy friend, is why people will hate you.  Jarek Spuck, dirty, deplorable capitalist.’

Jarek laughed.  ‘You know I don’t care about that.  Look, I like to employ as many people as I do.  It makes life easier for me, and anyone can get paid to play video games.  Everybody wins.’

‘Again—not the way they see it.’

‘No.  And I haven’t even gotten to the worst of it.  The trump card.’

‘And that is?’

‘The parents are complaining about trauma.’

‘Trauma?’

‘Yes.  Trauma from “poor working conditions”.  Like having to kill the occasional rat.  They say that it’s cruel to pay their children by simulating murder.  They worry about the future implications.’

‘Weren’t war simulators some of the first playable games on the VR market?’

‘I guess it’s different when you bring money into the picture.’

‘How?’

‘Well, I guess because they feel coerced to play this game.  Therefore, in their minds, we are coercing their children to murder.  It no longer feels like a choice to them.’

‘But it is a choice!’

‘They… Don’t see it that way.’

Kiyoshi stood up and stared at the back of his hands as he rested his palms on his desk.

‘They are using this argument to bargain for a raise,’ Jarek said.

‘And if they keep playing this up, the Fed may just step in and outlaw the game altogether.’

‘My thoughts exactly.  Then we are looking at much more than halving the work force.’

‘Let kids play the game if they want to!  If they don’t like it, they can always play Mapper.’

‘Of course they would rather fly drones over the countryside.  But Mapper pays less.’

‘So I imagine I’ll be having a meeting with Rachel soon, too.’

‘It’s quite possible.’

‘Well, thank you for bringing it to my attention, Spuck-San.’

‘Spuck-San sounds pretty horrible.’

‘I didn’t choose your last name,’ Kiyoshi said with a smile.

‘じゃまた.’  Jarek shook Kiyoshi's hand, bowed, and left the room.

Kiyoshi began packing to walk home.  That was enough drama for one day, and he needed time to think.  If they were forced to play by the federal minimum wage, it would have implications that could potentially topple the Guaranteed Basic Income he had worked so hard to negotiate.  There would be unemployment, an issue that hadn’t existed by anything other than choice since the introduction of the Programs.  There would be demands for welfare.  Which would mean higher taxes.  Which would mean…

What a headache.  Politics really suck sometimes.  Well, Kiyoshi thought, he could think about all of that on his walk.  For now, everything was fine.  He packed his bag and said goodbye to Jessica, who knew better than to re-open the topic so soon.  He exited the Government Building and walked toward the Jungle.