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missmentelle · 4 years

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COVID-19, Inequality, and You

This pandemic has been a bad time in a lot of ways, but one of the most devastating impacts we’re going to see besides the death toll is the economic impact - the economic impact on real, working people, not on stock index numbers. Unemployment rates are skyrocketing, and people are being thrown into financial chaos as a result.

But for all the talk we’ve heard during this pandemic of “we’re all in this together”, and “we’re all in the same boat”, it’s important to remember that, financially, we’re really, really not. Job losses, evictions and health crises are not equally distributed; if anything, this pandemic has been a stark reminder of inequality as the wealth gap grows wider and wider.

My own life has been a weird cross-section of the ways that the pandemic has economically affected different people in very different ways - my mother has completely lost her job at a seasonal tourist restaurant that will likely go out of business, my brother’s hours at his campus security job have been cut as the school moves online, my boyfriend is seeing his savings rise as he goes out less but makes exactly the same salary at his financial tech job, and I’ve fielded multiple job offers through this pandemic as government grants for social services boom in my region in anticipation of a coming homelessness crisis.

The news has been reporting on unemployment numbers and shuttered businesses, but there hasn’t been a lot of in-depth coverage about the ways that this is really going to affect people’s lives. There will be a lot of unexpected consequences to this pandemic if governments don’t step in to provide relief, including:

‘Eviction freezes’ are throwing tenants into debt without protecting their housing. Many places have put moratoriums on evictions during the pandemic, which is great. You don’t want a sudden surge in mass homelessness during a pandemic. But “no evictions” does not mean “no rent” - people who are currently being protected from eviction are still being charged rent, and their arrears are growing every month. As soon as eviction protections expire - which is set to happen very soon in many places - landlords can move forward with evicting tenants, going after their back rent, sending their debt to collection agencies and destroying their credit scores.

A lot of people are about to lose most of their possessions. If you get evicted, your parents or friend might have room for you to move in with them for a while. They probably do not have room for your couch, dresser, bed, table, desk, bookshelves, TV and an entire apartment full of stuff. Putting your things in storage is an option, but you need to be able to pack and transport all of your things to the storage unit and pay for the unit every month. You could try selling the stuff you can’t take with you, but it may be difficult with so many other people also struggling financially, and you may have to leave on short notice. A lot of people who get evicted will end up abandoning a lot of their stuff, which they’ll have to re-purchase all over again to get back on their feet.

People with low wages are disproportionately likely to lose their jobs. If you work as a software engineer, you’re probably still employed. If you work as a hotel maid, there’s a good chance you’ve lost your job or had your hours cut to nearly nothing. The jobs that are most impacted by shutdowns are jobs in the service and hospitality industry, and they tend to be low-wage, hourly jobs that cannot be done from home - bartenders, servers, hotel clerks, and dishwashers are way more likely to have lost their jobs than lawyers, accountants, engineers and college professors. In many ways, the people who are getting kicked the hardest right now are the ones who could least afford it.

Not every university will survive this pandemic. With a lot of universities and colleges scrambling to figure out whether to have in-person fall semesters, the future of a lot of post-secondary institutions looks bleak. Many students are choosing to take a year off or defer their admission rather than deal with online courses that have been haphazardly thrown together. On top of that, it’s not clear if international students will be able to attend university abroad this year, or if they even want to take the risk. This adds up to a whole lot of lost tuition money, leaving some universities with no way to keep operating - at least one American university has already permanently closed its doors because of the pandemic. The big players - Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Columbia - will probably pull through, but smaller colleges are at serious risk of going under, leaving their students in limbo and at risk of not finishing their disrupted degrees.

A lot of people are about to go from “poor” to “disabled”. The people most likely to contract coronavirus are the workers who have to interact with the public every day - not only nurses and doctors, but grocery store workers, delivery people, ride-sharing and taxi drivers, transit workers and janitorial staff. Those who survive are at risk of life-long complications of coronavirus, including permanently reduced lung capacity - that’s not great when you need to work a physically demanding job. A lot of people are about to find themselves in a situation where they are no longer able to do their jobs due to a virus that they contracted because of their jobs.

Many women’s careers may never recover from this. Daycares and schools are closed, and women are bearing the brunt of it. In a world where women still tend to earn less than male partners, it’s women’s careers that have taken a backseat when things get rough. Even when both partners are working from home, women are the ones overwhelmingly taking on most of the domestic and child-rearing chores, which hurts their work performance and leaves them more vulnerable to layoffs. And that’s a relatively privileged position to be in - without childcare services available, many working moms and single moms have had to quit their jobs, whether they could afford it or not, because they have no other options for their children. This kind of career disruption is something that these women may never totally recover from, especially as they try to re-enter an increasingly hostile job market.

Black and brown people are the most affected by rising unemployment. People of colour - especially immigrants and women of colour - are facing higher rates of unemployment than other groups. Hispanic and Latina women are in particularly dire circumstances, which is alarming, as they are also the most likely to be dealing with an uncertain immigration status. People of colour - particularly women - are disproportionately likely to work in industries that have been impacted by the pandemic, like the hospitality, food service, retail, child care, beauty and personal care industries, and they face systemic racism that makes it difficult for them to advocate for safe working conditions or access adequate medical care.

College and tourist towns are at risk of complete economic meltdown. A lot of towns or small cities depend on their local university or annual tourism to survive. A huge crowd of strangers flocks to their town for a few months per year and gives local businesses the money they need to pay for necessities year-round. My hometown is one of these places - most businesses are only open from May - September, and they make enough money during that time for everyone to scrape by for the rest of the year. Those tourists aren’t coming this year, which is something that locals have only learned as they begin to run out of last year’s money. You don’t need to work for a university or a hotel to be impacted by school and tourism shutdowns - the ripple effects will be felt by entire communities.

Escaping domestic violence will be difficult even after lockdown ends. It’s not exactly a secret that domestic violence has skyrocketed since the global pandemic began, a fact that many experts attribute to the fact that everyone is trapped indoors together and under a lot of stress. But even as lockdown regulations start to lift in areas that handled the pandemic responsibly, victims of domestic violence will face higher-than-usual barriers to escape - many victims may have lost their jobs and burned through their savings, and may have difficulty finding a new job that can finance their escape. Victims with health issues may also be wary about going to shelters for fear they will be further exposed to the virus.

Poor children will fall even further behind their upper-middle-class peers. I come from a part of rural eastern Canada where reliable internet access is simply not available. So for young children in the region, school effectively ended in March - they do not have the resources needed to connect to online learning. And children from rural areas aren’t the only ones missing out - more than half of all students in the United States aren’t accessing their online classes regularly, and marginalized kids are especially likely to be absent. Poor kids are staring down the barrel of an enormous education gap; they are less likely to have a stable internet connection and a device for their online learning, they are less likely to have books at home, and their parents are more likely to be essential workers who still have to go to work right now and don’t have time to teach them. Middle-class and wealthy families can afford laptops, educational software, tutors, books and time at home to educate their children - when schools are eventually back in session, the gaps between children from different socioeconomic backgrounds will probably be the widest they’ve ever been.

Don’t get me wrong - I am not arguing that we should end lockdowns prematurely to ease the economic impact. Public health measures exist for good reason, and I don’t think any of us want to even imagine, much less live through, the personal, physical and economic devastation of letting a pandemic rage out of control and melt down our healthcare systems. Despite what many people seem to believe, managing a global pandemic is not about “health vs. economy” - letting the virus rage out of control and kill millions would devastate every economic and social system we have. The preservation of human life has to come first.

What we need instead is comprehensive action to recognize and address the issues that come with long-term quarantines and economic shutdown - we need rent relief, social safety nets and basic assured income programs to get our most vulnerable friends and neighbors through this pandemic. The world will probably never return to the “normal” that we knew before the pandemic struck, and it shouldn’t - it’s time for a new, better normal that doesn’t leave our most marginalized people behind.

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #coronavirus #COVID-19 #pandemic #social justice #social work

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mrepstein · 4 years

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‘THE STARMAKER WHO BURNED TOO HOT’ (The Sunday Mirror - June 14, 1970) The above piece is an extract from journalist Godfrey Winn’s 1970 autobiography ‘The Positive Hour’

Brian Epstein built an empire around the Beatles - but he carried the seeds of his own doom

By GODFREY WINN

BRIAN EPSTEIN was the business brain behind the pop revolution of the sixties. He discovered the Beatles and made them millionaires. As a star-maker, Epstein's career was spectacular but brief. He was thirty-two when he died in August, 1967 - poisoned by an overdose of a sleeping drug. With his love of show-business, GODFREY WINN - Britain's best-known journalist - was a long standing friend of Brian Epstein and watched the pop impresario build a world wide entertainment empire. And he was close enough to Epstein to see the tragic consequences that instant fame and untold fortune had on the young genius.

I found myself one Saturday evening in 1963 climbing the stairs of an anonymous building close to Cambridge Circus, in London’s theatre-land.

In a barren, unfurnished room the walls, with their peeling paint, were decorated with posters of such plays as A Taste of Honey and The Miracle Worker.

i looked at the posters, and decided that there was a certain symbolism, a link here with the intriguing encounter that lay ahead of me.

I thought, too, of all the players who had rehearsed in this room for a multitude of productions: so full of hope that success was this time almost in their grasp, and so often to be reminded that half the members of the actors’ union, Equity, are permanently out of work.

Acclaim

Would it be different for the latest Merseyside group who, already acclaimed in the provinces, were about to have their most important challenge to date, the star spot on the Sunday Night at the Palladium television show?

The Beatles, with the hair-style that they made their own, were still not much more than a name to me.

A few days before I had talked with their manager and discoverer Brian Epstein in the lounge of the Grosvenor Hotel next to Victoria Station.

He was dressed in the kind of silk suit that pop groups wore like a uniform. But there, all comparison ceased.

For at that time he had not yet discarded the solid air of the middle-class Jewish back-ground from which he was sprung.

Unreal

Epstein’s tragedy was that, in surrendering one background, he became so overwhelmed by the trappings of the world into which the fantastic success of his proteges catapulted him that he was never able to put down roots into reality again.

This son of a prosperous Liverpool store-owner was the classic example of the actor manque.

He was nearly thirty when we first met, but as soon as he started talking of the time when he had enlisted as a student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, his voice had the eager lilt of a stage-struck youth.

A moment later his expression had changed. He was earth-bound once more as he described his return to Liverpool and entry into his father’s business.

And how, one day, while he was serving behind the record counter of one of his father's stores, a customer asked about a record made in Germany by an unknown Merseyside group.

And how he tracked down the record, later saw the group performing “for peanuts” at the Cavern in Liverpool, and sensed "something dynamic”; then peddled their tapes around London recording companies.

“And do you know, that tape, that very first record, Love Me Do, sold a hundred thousand. We were IN."

Just as I was in, now - the only spectator at the Beatles' private rehearsal for the Palladium.

Screams

Or rather, myself plus the tailor who had brought with him the four new suits, black like a matador’s, that Epstein had ordered for them to wear, replicas of his own. They put them on and pranced round the rehearsal room, bowing to an imaginary audience of fourteen million viewers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen: We are very pleased to be here at the Palladium.

Suddenly, uncontrollable excitement possessed them. The Palladium. The Palladium, they shouted out, screaming like their own fans, as other pilgrims have cried across the centuries. Jerusalem on high.

It was the youngest who spoke the introduction. He wasn't satisfied till he had taken them through it a dozen times.

"It's the moment before the curtain opens," Paul commented with the air of a veteran. “You finger your guitar and hope they won't start throwing things."

The moment they started to tune their guitars they seemed to fill the shadows of the lonely rehearsal room, darkening into twilight, and at the same time to grow in stature themselves.

The Beatles will always be held in high regard for what they have achieved by the unique sound of their music.

Having been among the first to recognise their talent, I feel I am in a position to suggest now that what has gone wrong somewhere along the line has been their inability, especially in the case of George Harrison and John Lennon, to pour back sufficient of the bounty that has fallen into their lap.

Perhaps it has been part of their appeal for the adolescents, that they themselves have not grown up in the full meaning of the phrase, any more than Brian Epstein was able to do.

Right up till his unnecessary, wanton death Epstein went on referring to his discoveries as his “boys,” seeing himself as the fifth member of the hierarchy, the eldest Beatle.

Then, when the group ceased performing together except for recording sessions, he could not help feeling to some extent excluded, even though he was still their manager - “the boss,” as they called him.

Dire

So in order to try to prove that he was someone big, in the theatrical firmament, in his own right, he started producing and putting on plays, with dire results.

He had all the money in the world to squander, but too little productive talent of his own.

Disappointed, and depressed, though he would not admit it, he finally turned to pep pills by day, and sleeping pills by night, a diet that was ultimately to destroy him.

Once he proclaimed to me, standing outside the Palladium: “All that matters is to have your name in lights.”

I could not persuade him otherwise, though I had persuaded him to spend the Sunday before the Whitsun holiday, making the journey all the way to Bolton in Lancashire, to hear an unknown singer in a pub, who had been recommended to me with such persistence and such enthusiasm by one of my readers, that in the end I felt it churlish of me not to do something about it.

Kinder?

The singer’s name was Michael Haslam. He was married and worked by day in a local tannery, and he specialised in singing ballads.

As it happened, Epstein was looking at that moment for a ballad singer, as a contrast on his touring bills to such of his properties as Billy J. Kramer and Gerry and the Pacemakers.

Otherwise, I doubt whether he would have ever listened to my suggestion, and in a way now I wish I hadn’t been persuaded myself to make the effort.

To have done nothing might have been kinder in the long run to the dark, tall young man, with the sort of looks which Elvis Presley first made fashionable, and the physique of a miner, who packed them in at weekends at The White Hart.

Except that if the Beatles’ impresario had not turned up that Sunday evening in Bolton, yet another pub singer might still be imagining he was there only because the luck of being discovered had just never happened to come his way.

Certainly the audience reaction that evening in Bolton was tremendous and entirely spontaneous. I can hear it, smell it how. Even so, I was not entirely convinced myself.

Undoubtedly there was a voice of some lyrical power, but did he also possess sufficient personality?

And how would he stand up to another environment, bereft of his regular admirers, alone on a stage, or in front of a TV camera?

Epstein brushed aside my doubts. On the spot he decided to sigh Haslam up, with the arrogant impetuosity of a Tsar.

Anxious

Two or three evenings later, Epstein and I met again, this time in my London home. We had arranged that he should pick me up and have a drink, en route for the Palladium.

He was eager for me to see another of his proteges, This time the girl, also from Liverpool, who through his astute judgment had with surprising sped reached what used to be the Mecca of all music hall artists.

Cilla Black.

In the fervent hope that one day Mike Haslam, equally skilfully projected, would reach the same goal, I accepted, though Miss Black’s nasal voice with its Liverpudlian vowels screaming at me over the radio at breakfast time had not created in my mind the most enticing of images.

Doubts

However, none of that was my affair. I could switch off the knob.

Whereas the other artist, uprooted and disorientated, was to some extent my responsibility.

In the forty-eight hours which had intervened, my initial doubts had only grown.

“After all, Brian, if I hadn’t dragged you to Bolton, you would never have heard of him.” Even to myself, it sounded like a self-accusation, but my guest again brushed aside my fears.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, with a rajah-like wave of his hand.

“But I do worry,” I protested anxiously.

“You shouldn’t. Don’t you realise, it’s nothing to do with you anymore. Mike Haslam belongs to me now.

“From this moment he is my discovery, and I shall look after him completely, change him, mould him, fit him into my set-up.

“All the credit, all his future success will be entirely my doing. You merely introduced him to me. Anyone might have done that.”

I was flabbergasted rather than relieved by this lofty declaration.

Rebuff

In an instant he had assumed the air of the great, international impresario slapping down a small-time sleazy agent who had dared to suggest that he should have a slice in the property value of the unknown name about to be groomed for stardom.

Of course, I wanted no financial stake in the young man’s future. I was not in show business in any shape or form.

At the same time, I surely had an ethical stake. A moral stake, if you like. Anyway, something quite different and rather more binding.

But I was meeting the real Brian Epstein for the first time.

Gone was the mask of mock humility, worn by the apparently modest young man fresh from the provinces, who in his original talk with me had praised and congratulated everyone except himself.

For the first time I glimpsed the strong streak of paranoia, which was swiftly to grow into a kind of sickness.

Welcome

Not surprisingly, I was dismayed and we had an uncomfortable evening, saved, as far as I was concerned, by the affectionate welcome I received in the dressing room of Frankie Vaughan, who was the real star of the show.

He and the boys in the band were deep in a poker session, but the occupant of the coveted No. 1 room broke off without a trace of annoyance and jumped up from his seat to offer us drinks.

How different had been my reception in the No. 2 dressing room.

Miss Black was seated in an ungainly position, her legs sprawled out in front of a portable television set, and did not trouble to get out of her chair, or to make any attempt at conversation.

After a few embarrassed moments, I backed out into the passage again, and it was then, at my suggesting that surely his new girl needed a matronly, experienced woman in attendance to help and advise her back-stage, that Epstein made the comment that having your name in lights was the only thing which mattered.

I expect he thought my suggestion was an impertinent one, though it was only intended to be constructive.

Unfortunately, I had already promised to have supper with him afterwards, and then to see his new house, and Miss Black, dressed in a black leather coat, more suitable for the back of a motor-cycle, came along, too.

Surprise

Not wishing to lie openly about my reactions to her performance, and searching for some topic of conversation which would be of mutual interest, I asked my host if he was contemplating adding any other female singers to the troupe of artists under his banner.

I am still surprised when I recall the reply I received, uttered with absolute and final conviction.

“No, I do not need any other women artists. Cilla is the Edith Piaf of England.”

Whatever she was or has become - and Miss Black has undoubtedly achieved a large and loyal following among her contemporaries - she is not another Edith Piaf, that great Parisian singer. How could she be?

Despite all Epstein’s confident assertions, Mike Haslam failed to float for long in the larger pool.

Symbols

Even while he was still alive I never talked with Brian Epstein alone again, after that evening at the Palladium, when in the small hours I found myself standing in a room in his house dominated by a row of telephones of different colours on a long desk.

Nothing else about the house, the modernistic innovations of which suited his temperament, left any mark upon my memory.

Only the telephones, those inanimate props of a tycoon existence, stare at me like a blown-up photograph on my desk. The symbols and instruments of a certain kind of power.

“I lift one receiver,” he told me exultantly, “and say to the operator ‘Get me a Hollywood number.’ I book in that call, and five minutes later I am talking to New York.

“Hardly have I rung off, when it is Australia on the line. Everyone wants me, everyone wants the Beatles. Everyone wants all my boys.”

“What about the time factor?” I asked. “For instance, when it is mid-day here, and perhaps three o’clock in the morning there, or vice-versa?”

“I don’t mind about that. I am ready to take calls all round the clock. I like it best sitting here by myself through the night, doing business. Big business.”

His usually deceptive, quiet voice rose to a crescendo: he was playing the big scene in the third act from all the stage and screen dramas of which he had been cheated by his inability to make the grade as an actor in the legitimate theatre.

But I had no desire to play in turn the part of the stage stooge, and fled from that house in Kinnerton Street to walk home through Belgrave Square, where at the corner of Chapel Street and Groom Place the nocturnal life of the fifth Beatle was finally to snuff out in the last of his London homes, whose larger rooms he had furnished in even more grandiose style.

Some months before that happened, he had a breakdown, which was hushed up, and then they put him in a private nursing home at Roehampton, in Surrey, which caters particularly for patients whose minds have been temporarily disturbed.

Guarded

After that he was never without a friendly and considerate bodyguard, who became his shadow.

Except on that final weekend when, in a sudden change of mood, he decided to drive himself from his country home at Heathfield, Sussex, back to London, though it was a bank holiday.

The Chapel Street house was only a stone’s throw from where my elder brother lives, and sometimes, when I was dining with my family, my sister-in-law, more in bewilderment than disapproval, would comment:

“Such strange people hang about Mr. Epstein's house.

“I suppose they are waiting, hoping that one of the Beatles will come out.”

That Sunday afternoon, when the news of his death broke, and the police cars drove up, the flower boys and girls in their peacock clothes left the Kings Road parade and crowded into Chapel Street, as though they were queueing up for a pop concert.

As far as I was concerned the epitaph was spoken by David Jacobs - not the disc jockey but the lawyer, with the looks himself of a film star - who acted for so many other names in show business beside the Beatles.

Freedom

Now that it was all over, the final battle lost, Epstein's adviser from the start spoke to me with a freedom he could not have done before:

“The trouble with Brian was that he had everything, and yet nothing.

“He had a strong family feeling, right till the end, and his loyalty towards the Beatles and his other properties, like Cilla Black, was fantastic.

“I suppose you could describe it as a kind of love affair on his side, but nothing stands still in life, and he was conscious that they were inevitably growing away from him, as they matured both as artists and people.

“This made him more and more restless and unhappy, though he wouldn’t admit it except in one of his increasing moods of depression, when all I could do was to remind him how much he was worth, in money and properties.

“But even that knowledge began to lose its flavour. It was then that he started taking pills to try to recapture the sense of euphoria he had had at the beginning.

“It was imperative for him to feel that he was still in the swim himself, not just taking a percentage of their earnings.

“I hoped so much that the house at Heathfield would make a difference.

“He had gone down that weekend for the Bank Holiday. But after dinner on that Friday evening, he suddenly changed his mind and drove himself back to London, alone.

“What would I have done had I known? It’s always so easy to be wise after the event.

“Sometimes one has a kind of instinct, and can act swiftly, but even then it can be too late, or impossible to protect the person indefinitely against himself, if the seeds of self-destruction are strongly developed in him or her.

“In this case we shall never know for certain exactly what happened. Except that he went to sleep again that night, and never woke up.

Loner

“In a way, I was closer to him than anyone. He really unburdened himself to me.

“He was not so much a loner, as a oncer.

“What do I mean by that? I mean that he was incapable of any lasting physical relationship with anyone. He was incapable of love.”

All too soon David Jacobs himself was to discover his own torments.

#Brian Epstein #Godfrey Winn #The Positive Hour #Cilla Black #Michael Haslam #David Jacobs #Sunday Mirror #newspaper #1970 #70s

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anastkantdhangar · 4 years

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The Petrifying Situation of the Indian Media

India ranks so badly for press freedom because much of the media has simply stopped doing its moral job, and, as a culmination of facts, journalism is in some serious trouble in the world’s largest democracy. I’m afraid the consequences could be dire.

A cluster of mics of different channels of India's television media, accountable for shaping the social and political thoughts for the most of the country's population.

March 6, Vinesh Kunhiraman, The Media One anchor, goes on air, just like any other day in the office, about to tell his channel’s five million viewers in Kerala about the death anniversary of a famous comedian and the latest updates on the coronavirus pandemic.

But just a few minutes into the broadcast, he sees the managing editor rushing towards the studio floor gesturing desperately. As soon as Kunhiraman realizes that something’s not right, his image dissolves into a blue screen, a message shows up on the screen saying that there’s no signal and that they regret the inconvenience. The channel’s uplink, all of sudden, goes dead.

Actually, this was no technical difficulty. The channel was cut off as a consequence of order issued by the Union Ministry of Information and Broadcasting to block the channel for 48 hours, because it had covered February’s biggest news story -- mob attacks on anti-CAA protesters and in Muslim-dominant areas of Delhi, which took place just a few days after the result of Delhi’s Assembly Elections, which ultimately flared into a broader unrest and the Delhi Riots -- in a way that seemed “critical towards Delhi Police and R.S.S.,” the order said.

This shows a glimpse of how tolerant the government of world's largest democracy actually is about it’s criticism, despite many of the government ministers and the Prime Minister Modi himself stating that he wants the government to be criticized as it makes a democracy stronger and motivates him to work better.

WIDE URGE TO ADVERTISE “POSITIVE STORIES”

PM Modi addressing the nation amidst the coronavirus pandemic and about the government’s steps to address it.

Just before he announced the world’s largest coronavirus lockdown, PM Modi met with top news executives and urged them to publish “inspiring and positive stories” about the government’s efforts. Then, after the lockdown stranded half a million migrant workers, with some dying along the highways, government lawyers persuaded the Supreme Court to order all media to “publish the official version” of coronavirus developments, although outlets are still allowed to carry independent reporting.

A large section of leading broadcasters were quick to welcome this decision of the apex court, but left many intellectuals with questions on India’s constitutionally guaranteed freedom of speech and freedom of press.

India’s media universe is vast, perhaps the biggest in the world: More than 17,000 newspapers, 100,000 magazines, 178 television news channels and countless websites in dozens of languages. Thousands of Facebook pages call themselves news publishers, and YouTube is filled with local bulletins on everything from real estate trends to police raids.

Under immense pressure from the government, many media owners have fired their journalists who have criticized the PM and his government, and asked their media houses to not to run stories of hate-crime trackers that may embarrass the government or the ruling party. Instead, media houses have been asked to, and have been running what is being called “positive and inspiring” stories so that a “healthy environment” is being maintained throughout the country, and that could actually lead to a number of conclusions from various points of views.

This is so evident at the time of the coronavirus pandemic, where media houses have been given official orders to run the “official versions of the stories so that people do not panic”. Indian media has been constantly pressing on to project the fact the fact how India have been tackling the coronavirus pandemic outbreak way better than the much developed western countries, but not many compared, what we should call, the “other statistics” -- the amount of daily covid tests conducted, and its comparison with the same countries it claims to be performing better from.

Media, being the fourth pillar in any democracy, is morally obliged to present the facts in the way they should, in order to be in the best interest of the people as a whole. Even the academic study of journalism has part where it teaches the students, or the future journalists, to see government’s policies and steps with suspicion, as if media starts supporting government everywhere in any democracy, things could turn out to be disastrous, yes of course it is evident.

They can only ask PM about how much does he sleep, from where does he get the motivation, how much of a fakir he is. And this is the same person who left an interview with just three minutes into it because he was being asked bitter questions about his role during the 2002 Gujarat Riots, Modi was being interviewed by Karan Thapar then, and has not given any such bitter interview ever since even after becoming the Prime Minister of India, and has not even indulged in any press conferences but one, that too just before the 2019 Lok Sabha Polls, in which he did not answer a single question, in fact, gestured many to Amit Shah to answer.

Instead, days before 2019 Lok Sabha elections, PM Modi gave an "non-political" interview to a Bollywood actor, Akshay Kumar, in which he was asked questions like "how does he have his mangoes".

STRATEGICALLY CONTROLLING THE COUNTRY’S THOUGHT PROCESS

It is a fact, even is a part of academic structures in schools, that Adolf Hitler ran a hate propaganda against the Jews for his political gains, most probably fulfilled his personal desires too through it, and eventually built such a large campaign that he was able to convince millions of Germans that a clear minority population composition of 6 million Jews were a threat to Germany and it’s integrity, and that to eradicate and eliminate them by killing them in large numbers and fleeing them was the only possible way to save Germany.

At first, this sounds outlandish for any democracy, as to solve differences between communities, especially by the side of government, rather sounds pretty un-democratic. But the fact that Hitler was able to convince this as only possible way out is very intriguing, as he off course had a popular public support. How was he able to do that?

Adolf Hitler addressing the people in a rally

In Hitler’s Nazi Germany, media was censored by the government, as a result of which what the media can open as news in public domain was solely controlled by the Hitler’s government, which led to media only praising Hitler as Germany’s Savior and projected every person who criticized Hitler as a traitor, giving Hitler complete power to prove so, and execute him. The whole anti-Jewish sentiment was a result of years of propaganda run by the Hitler’s media to earn a wide public support to execute his dangerous plans and unleash havoc.

Seems familiar? A considerable section of the world society sees the same signs repeating in India based on religious grounds. Starting from near-end of 2014, India’s media has run a large scale propaganda based on religious grounds, resulting in instilling of hatred against the largest religious minority in India, and convincing people that they do not belong here. As a result, India has seen a sudden upsurge in mob lynchings based on communal lines, a strong hostility against sections of society, challenging the integral character of India’s Unity in Diversity and it’s very traditional secular character.

CAPTURING THE STILL “FREE VOICES”

The current NDA government and PM Modi are backed up by an army of online allies who discredit and harass independent journalists; female journalists, in particular, have been besieged with abuse and rape threats. And the police say Hindu nationalists were behind the 2017 murder of Gauri Lankesh, a female newspaper editor hailed as one of India’s most crusading journalists.

And for the most part, Indian news outlets have knuckled under, concluding that since much of the public supports the prime minister, they should, too. Even skeptical journalists censor themselves, afraid to be branded anti-national by a government that equates patriotism with support for PM Modi.

The Modi government has been particularly concerned about broadcast media, which reach into every corner of the country. In such a scenario, months before 2019 elections, an ABP journalist, named Punya Prasun Bajpai, questioned the results of government’s scheme of providing financial help to farmers, and broadcasters stated that the broadcast of the show was being interrupted in various parts of the country until the ABP journalist was being asked to leave days after the incident.

There are numerous such examples of journalists and reporters being left out and asked to leave by the broadcasters, so that they’re not being branded as anti-nationals, or lose sponsors or afraid that cases might be filed against them.

Arnab Goswami, from the Republic, hosting his debate program

Arnab Goswami of the Republic TV has come out be one of the most prominent Right wing, pro-government journalist in recent times, with constant praises for PM Modi, his government and his policies and of course his ideologies, and has constantly questioned the opposition for every misdeed in the country. He accused the Congress and Sonia Gandhi of sending goons to attack him in April.

Ravish Kumar, NDTV, in between his daily debate program

Ravish Kumar of NDTV, another popular journalist, this time one who has been critical of government, not only during the NDA tenure, but a hard critical of UPA government too. Being a hard critical of PM Modi and Amit Shah, he has been abused constantly on social media and death threats for him and his family, and the Modi and Shah’s BJP has now boycotted Ravish for years, by not sending any spokesperson in his show.

PM Modi, after taking over the PMO, gave his very first interview to Arnab Goswami, and Arnab has been backing up with frequent interviews of PM Modi, and his senior ministers.

Ravish won the Ramon Magsaysay Award, also known as Asia’s Nobel, in 2019. Even after this, no other channel even covered this achievement of Indian media. Many speculated that had Goswami win the Ramon Magsaysay, would PM Modi, or any of the senior ministers or his senior party members have congratulated him, or tweeted the same? Because not a thing even close to this happened.

THE CURRENT MILIEU

An usual Production Control Room of a news channel, responsible for working behind what we see on air

It is very much evident that the Indian Media is in a state of crisis, it simply ‘cannot speak the truth to the power’. From not being vocal about about how big a blundering failure the 2016 demonetization was and the dent it hit on the economy, to constantly attacking the opposition rather than questioning the power, to reporting from the AC studios and not about the situation from the ground, to initially having ignored the migrant laborer's crisis and much more, all this suggests that from the view of the best interests of a tolerant democratic nation, Indian Media has had been in a deep state of crisis.

If it had not been the case, no journalist in any democracy, can openly criticize the voters on live television of being freeloaders, anti-national and being abused for not electing those in central government in a state assembly election, and walk free without even a complaint. Sudhir Choudhury of Zee Media did the very same back in February after the results of the Delhi State Assembly elections, having called a democratically elected Chief Minister as a terrorist.

No wonder why India has further slipped in the latest Press Freedom Index Rankings to 142nd Rank out of a total of 180 countries, very close to Pakistan, ranked 145th, the only comparison most of the Indian Media understands.

If ever our future generations are allowed to look back upon how India lived in the hallucination of being in its best of times what actually also could be a very strong contender of being one of the most dark times in the history of Independent India along with the 1975 Emergency, Indian Media of the current times would also have to bear a lot of credit for the same, along with many strong names both in the government, and the government institutions.

Information and Pictures’ Reference -

The New York Times

Al Jazeera

Google

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seth2020 · 4 years

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How Can I Pay My Federal Taxes With Installments or Monthly Payments?

Every year, there are millions of taxpayers who find themselves unable to pay their taxes in full to the IRS. The IRS knows there will be some taxpayers coming up short. The good news is the federal government is happy to work with you. The bad news is, they’re relentless in their collection of back taxes and if left unattended, they can levy your bank account, garnish your paycheck, or put a lien on your property to settle your tax bill. However, their cooperation comes at a price, called penalties and interest. Here are the steps you need to take if you wish to pay your federal income tax with installment payments. Here are some steps you can take to get on an IRS payment plan if you can’t pay your taxes in full. File Correctly and On Time Trying some fancy 1040 shortcuts or inputting fake numbers on your tax return software to bring your tax bill down is not a solution. In fact, it will land you in deeper trouble. First, if you are going to owe tax and be unable to pay, your return will already face higher scrutiny as soon as you request a payment plan. Making deliberate attempts to file a fraudulent return will only compound your problem, and will lead to more serious consequences.

Waiting until after April 15 to file is also a poor plan because you will only accrue more penalties. Also, filing an extension does not mean you have more time to pay. It simply means you’ll end up paying more with penalties and interest, sinking you deeper into a hole.

So make sure you file on time! Attach Form 9465 Installment Agreement Request to your 1040 If You Need More Than 120 Days To Pay This is the crucial step. If you have a reasonable reason for the delay in paying your taxes, the IRS can work out a 72 month payment arrangement. However, the late filing penalty can be as much as 5% per month of the outstanding tax debt, for each month or part thereof the tax is owed. The penalty is capped at a whopping 25% of the original tax owed. The failure to pay penalty is one-half of one percent (0.5%) each month up to a maximum of 25% as well. The interest is compounded daily, much like a credit card. The IRS charges interest on top of penalties and interest. There is also an administrative fee to set up the monthly payments, depending on how you intend to pay. When you take into account the penalties and interest the IRS can assess, an IRS tax debt doubles every several years if you don’t address it head-on. Applying for an Installment Agreement Online:

Your specific tax situation will determine which payment options are available to you. Payment options include full payment, a short-term payment plan (paying in 120 days or less) or a long-term payment plan (installment agreement) generally 72 months. You may qualify to apply online if:

Long-term payment plan (installment agreement): You owe $50,000 or less in combined tax, penalties and interest, and filed all required returns

If you are a sole proprietor or independent contractor, apply for a payment plan as an individual.

Long-term payment plan (installment agreement): You owe $50,000 or less in combined tax, penalties and interest, and filed all required returns.

If you are a sole proprietor or independent contractor, apply for a payment plan as an individual

Wait 30 Days For a Reply (if by mail) and Make Sure the Installment Agreement Is Your Best Option It takes the IRS at least 30 days to process an Installment Agreement Request form. Understandably, after March 31 of each year the processing time is a little longer. During these 30 days, it would be a good idea to pursue other payment options. Plan on paying the late fee penalty and interest when you are comparing the full cost of an IRS Installment Agreement or another loan, such as through a bank or other avenues of credit. When bank loan interest rates are higher than 6%, the IRS Installment Agreement looks like a fairly good deal. However, tax payers in true financial dire straits due to job loss or other issues need to take pause. Defaulting on an IRS Installment Agreement is not the same as failing to pay your credit card bill one month. The collections process by the IRS is backed by the federal government, and includes the ability to apply a tax lien against any property owned by the taxpayer. A delinquent taxpayer should also consider his or her ability to pay next year’s tax bill. If the root cause of an inability to meet your tax obligation is recurring, for example related to a small business loss, certainly consider if the business is likely to weather a similar financial situation next year. After all, you can’t secure another Installment Agreement if you are already paying one to the IRS. It may be prudent to pay this year’s tax with a loan at a higher interest rate if you have the credit available and save the request for an Installment Agreement when you truly have no other option to meet your tax obligation. Always Keep Careful Records of Forms Filed and Any Correspondence with the IRS

During the entire process of requesting an installment agreement, it is vital a taxpayer keep complete records. If there is communication by telephone, write down the time, date, and the person you spoke with in a log. It is also a good idea to briefly summarize the conversation, especially if there were any specific guarantees verbally given. Save all letters and notices from the IRS with your tax information.

Our firm specializes in tax resolution, even if you have years of unfiled tax returns, we can help! You may qualify for the IRS’s debt settlement program called an Offer in Compromise, which can be more advantageous to you than a payment plan. We may be able to settle your entire debt with the IRS for up to 85% off the original amount owed, including penalties and interest, if you qualify. If you want an expert tax resolution specialist who knows how to navigate the IRS maze, reach out to our firm and we’ll schedule a no-obligation confidential consultation to explain your options in full to permanently resolve your tax problem at 1-855-605-1500.

#Installment Agrement #Installment Agreement #Installment Agreement IRS Form

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT AU), pt. 14

14: Made new

Summary: Y/N is given an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: angst, fluff, violence, death

Word count: 2.5k

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Αιώνια αγάπη (DT Modern Greek god/frat! AU) MASTERLIST

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It happened fast.

It happened way too fast - too fast for human eye to follow as flashes of hundreds different shades of gold overcame her vision and her mind blanked as a response.

She couldn't do much, knowing this is a godly feat, one she must protect her children from. So she stood up, her vision blackening momentarily - something that came with changing positions way too fast with light-headed feeling following soon after.

She didn't have time to wait to feel steady, running toward Hera who kept the kids behind her and watched events unfold.

"What is happening?!" Y/N questioned, out of breath and wide eyed.

"Gods fighting gods. Blood against blood."

And before Y/N had time to delve deeper, ask for meaning, the fight was over, Apollo and Hermes each before their father and uncle, prepared to rule on their punishment for unspeakable, inconceivable crimes against humans and other gods.

"Do your worst boy!" Zeus shouted, spitting at Hermes' feet as a trapped beast.

"Yes, father." And with one swift, smooth move of a silver sword, Hermes took his father's head while Apollo claimed Poseidon's.

With a gasp, Y/N covered her children's eyes, turning around herself, unable to catch a proper breath while the aftershock plummeted through her veins. She couldn't stop herself from trembling, hugging her kids for comfort, her wide eyes running over the marble floor she was positioned at ever since Zeus found it appropriate to rip her away from her life and uprooted her in order for her to show up for this mockery of a trial.

A hand clasped on each of her shoulders, fingertips applying different amounts of pressure - the left one was a little more eager for her attention, enough to forget she's fragile and still human - Hermes, she guessed.

"Y/N, please look at us." Apollo pleads, her voice as soft as a cloud, dragging out her name so slowly, so carefully with so much love she felt her heart yearn for him.

Shaking, dragging in a few shuddered breaths, she looked her kids over first, noticing their little confused faces but neither of them made a sound. When their mother is scared, they trust her to protect them, keeping their usual mischief below zero. It was always a rule she taught them.

"It's okay, babies. It's all okay now." She whispered, quickly pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads, pushing Valerie's bangs to the side affectionately.

Hera stepped in, offering her help once more, but Y/N refused adamantly. She couldn't part from her kids, not even for a single moment.

"We have a lot to talk about." Apollo crouched down, plopping on the cold marble instantly, his body - although no longer human and much more durable - is exhausted with everything that's happened and not just now, but for the last year.

"Henry, Valerie, go and ask your grandma for something to eat. I'm sure she's got lots of tasty goodness!" The cheerful tone didn't distract the brothers from her underlying worry, still evident even after the danger passed.

Once the kids smashed a kiss on their mother, they ran off after Hera who was still in sight, bringing some joy to the saddened goddess, at least momentarily.

Turning around, she found Hermes sat behind her as well, each of them looking at her with a dire need of information, each of them wishing to touch her - feel her, just to know she's real. Not even thinking about it, Y/N lunged forth, throwing an arm around each brother, pulling them closer until she could finally breathe properly, in their presence and able to feel them and not only see them as she did in her dreams. She never had a moment of peace - without them, for she saw them in every first light of the breaking dawn or the last light of the sunset, in the way her kids laughed, talked, or even looked at her, and every damn night in her dreams. Sometimes even while she was awake, in the middle of the day, she'd just hear their voices inside her mind, offering her some sage advice if she heard Apollo, or something completely mental if she heard Hermes - Or Grayson and Ethan as she still regarded them as.

Breaking away from the hug, noticing they're more than reluctant to let her go, Y/N perched herself up on the balls of her feet, placing her hands on her thighs, palms laid out.

"So...you, uh...have kids?" Apollo starts, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, watching as she pursed her lips once they twitched in their need of showing a small smile she intercepted.

"Yeah...did you know?" She asks, wondering if that would even matter. After all, she's spent years on her own - would them knowing really have any impact?

"When we returned here, three years passed on Earth. We managed to get a hold of a device to watch over you, but we could only watch, never intervene." Apollo explained, when Hermes cleared his voice.

"I'm really sorry about your dad. If it helps, I guided him to Elysium myself. I've been told he's on the Isle of the Blest. He's with your mother." Hermes took her hand upon seeing her bottom lip quiver, her eyes rimmed red as a lone tear spilled over and he could tell her chest quaked under the pressure of holding in a sob he'd rather have her release, hoping it would let out her pain and clear her heart for something good.

"Thank you, Ethan. It really means a lot to know they're both well and happy." She smiled, giving him a grateful squeeze of the hand before she sniffled and chuckled awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask about the kids. Henry and Valerie, is it?" Apollo interrupts, unable to hold back any longer. He felt as if his mind is on a roller-coaster, about to jump off the tracks right at the top.

"That's a little complicated." She dropped her gaze, licking her lips before nibbling on the bottom left corner.

"Henry is Ethan's and Valerie's yours." She responded, watching Ethan's eyes pop while Grayson waited impatiently for her to explain because he already knew that, he just didn't understand how.

"Two months after you disappeared, I was experiencing basic pregnancy symptoms and when I went for a check up I found out I'm not only pregnant, but with two kids...at the same time...and they aren't twins." Chuckling to herself, shaking her head as if she too can't believe her situation, Y/N took Grayson's hand in her free one now too, in need of support as if it's happening all over again.

"Apparently I was born with a uterine malformation called uterus didelphys. It basically means I have two uteruses and well...You can get pregnant with two kids at the same time. Henry was born a month before, they were pretty big and my body couldn't handle it and they had to do a C section to take him out. Valerie was born naturally a month later." Shrugging her shoulders, she felt her face burn, still remembering how hard it all was on her, especially when she had to do it all on her own. Well, her sorority sisters helped and her father had made sure she's financially taken care of even if she refused to tell him about who the father is, because he assumed there was only one! But she didn't have a partner, someone to truly rely on - to share the burden of two lives she carried on her chest this whole time. It's never easy and it never got easier.

"You had hairs on your brushes and there were also your toothbrushes...even some blood left from shaving on the razors, so I just took it all and through it all, they found enough DNA to tell me they're brother and sister, but from different fathers even though their DNA matched so well they were borderline twins. I guess it has something to do with your godly genes or whatever."

Neither Ethan nor Grayson could really speak, each of them lost in the fact they weren't there when their kids needed them and when they're finally with them, their kids saw them as bloodthirsty animals who beheaded their own family.

“Henry is usually the instigator of every trouble they get into. Valerie is incredibly bright and very soft of heart. They’re both really good kids...very hard to keep up with, exhaustively stubborn, but very well behaved when need be...as you could see today.” Y/N continued, wanting to give them some insight on the little beings that came to be because of the love they all shared years ago and although it’s been longer for Y/N, she couldn’t deny she still had incredibly strong feeling for both of them - they never really left.

"Stay." Ethan spoke up, shaking Y/N up into retracting her hands, leaving both of them with an empty feeling in their chest.

"I mean, the kids are more than just demigods with all their genetics, they aren't human. We can sense it. Once they're twenty two, they'll stop ageing. They would get a year older every thousand years until they look like they're about forty and they won't get older than that. Not ever. Their powers will manifest at eighteen. They can't go home. Ever." Apollo explained, knowing he's already playing with fire, but it's the truth. They can't let two teenager rave on Earth once their powers come in for the consequences could be catastrophic.

"You can't take my kids away." Y/N stood up, defensive and prepared to fight if necessary. She didn't understand why they're pushing this, barely any information getting through to her.

"We don't want to." Ethan stood, his hands open with palms turned to her, hoping to calm her down and stop her nostrils from flaring and transform her glare into something more gentle, more calm. She had a gaze that could kill a thousand men within a blink and he absolutely loved it.

"Then what the hell are you talking about?!" She shouted, stepping closer with her index finger pointed at Grayson's chest.

"You might be the father, but it doesn't mean you get to take them just because you're gods and I a human!" But her finger changed direction, poking Ethan in the chest.

"We want you to stay too! Just take a sip from the fountain of youth and you can be one of us!" Ethan defended, hoping she sees reason and does what he's asking for even immortality and the Underworld at his feet isn't enough without her...And that's when he finally understood Hades and his actions. Hell, he didn't even fight him when he wrapped the chain around his neck, as if he too never wanted to live without Persephone.

"Wha-", Y/N stumbled back, thinking about it. To be a goddess and stay at Mount Olympus with her children and the gods she fell in love with for an eternity? It sounded like a dream, but do all gods end up beheaded by their children? That horrified her.

"But gods die either killed by their descendants or their children...I don't know if I want that to happen to me." She frowned, running her hands through her hair as she gripped the roots.

"It won't." Apollo stepped closer, understanding flashing behind his hazel eyes as the armor he wears glistened in the sun that sparked through the open ceiling above.

"You can't promise me that! What if someone takes me like Hades took Persephone?!" Hermes could see she's panicking, spiraling in the hell her mind created, knowing that she was always her own worst enemy. Just as he wished to intervene and end her suffering with a few calming words and a tender caress, someone else did it for him; his dear sister, the very goddess Y/N spoke of.

"I made Hades run to me. He saw my bones beneath the skin, the soul within and offered me half his kingdom. Do you really think I ate the fruit unwittingly?" Such words spoken from a beauty as she bore, Persephone not only shocked the trio, but brought Hermes to his knees.

"I killed him for you and you're telling me you wanted to be his queen all along?!" He couldn't help his voice from raising at the younger goddess, realizing she played him all this time.

"I wanted the Underworld. I wanted to be Queen. I hoped once he was gone, I'd rule alone. But I made the mistake of actually caring for him after all this time - even loving him at times. I miss him and I can't say that I don't hold it against you brother. But I can't rule. Not after he left the Underworld to you in the contract." Persephone spat, bitter about how her plotting turned against her and she lost all she worked on. Centuries long scheme now nothing but dust in the wind.

"You will live there. You will take over for Hecate as she can't do her job from Tartarus. You will do that - alone." Hermes shimmered, vibrating in his rage as he cast his sister down, punishing her for her feat.

Hera ran fast, watching her daughter run the opposite direction in tears, bringing a golden chalet with her.

"Did you convince her?" She smiled softly, hoping this was actually Persephone learning Y/N will take the gift of immortality offered only a few times in history.

"No. Just found out my sister is a crazy, manipulative psychopath!" Hermes ran a hand down his face, still trying to hold himself together.

"She also told us Hermes is officially the new Hades." Apollo added, winking at his brother proudly for he knew Hermes was made for the job. He knew it would be a perfect fit.

"Did she tell you you're the new Poseidon?" Hera looked toward Apollo, giving him the same proud look he gave his brother, impossibly happy her son got the power over sea as he always loved the oceans and water, the way they could be so calm one moment and raging the next.

"I? Wha - really?" Apollo nearly choked on his spit, placing a hand on his chest-plate with an incredulous look on his face. He couldn't believe what he earned, so happy and still so conflicted over how he earned it.

"Yes. And", Hera turned to a very silent Y/N, "If you decide to join us, you'd be the new Zeus." She spoke plainly, offering Y/N not only the gift of immortality but the ultimate power of being the supreme goddess of Mount Olympus.

"Why? Why give me such honor when you can do the job just as well?" Y/N asked, genuinely confused over this turn of events, wanting a moment of peace but realizing she won't get any time to make her choice.

"Because I'd rather take care of my little grandchildren and we're short one supreme entity." Hera brought the chalice closer to her lips, enticing her to take the next step and for the first time in a long time, Y/N didn't think. Why would she? She just graduated and moved back home into an empty house filled with memories she couldn't run away from while all her friends scattered around the world and she'd barely see them as it is. She didn't think twice before she nodded, taking the chalice into her hands much to both brother’s surprise before chugging it all in one sip.

At first, nothing happens at all. But then she feels it.

Something in her stomach churns, despite the fact she didn't eat much in a while. Then she cramps, pain shooting through her entire abdomen. She lets out a gasp as the pain reached her throat, and it constricts tighter and tighter until she feels she can't breathe. She keeps gasping for air as the tightening and pain refuse to let up.

She hears Ethan and Grayson shout her name as her knees hit the marble floor.

The pain intensifies, ripping through her like blazing fire. The edges of her vision darken as she continues to struggle for air, the shouting around her crescendos. It's the worst pain she's ever felt in her entire life.

It's a relief when she blacks out.

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Tags: @mutuallynotmutual @lanadeldolans @xalayx @accalialionheart @gia-kerks @historyheart @heyits-claire @daddygraysonsbitch @fallinginlove-16 @lanadeldolans @beautifulfound @thearachna-kid @dinnerwiththedolans @graydolan12 @justanotherfangurl272 @dxlansfxck @godlydolans @flowery-dolan @dominatedolans @buckysjuicyplums @ethanhes @dolandolll @dolanstwintuesday @peacedolantwins

#ethan dolan #grayson dolan #dolan twins #dolan twins greek god au #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader #hermes #apollo #greek god au

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anyoneknowwhatbrexitmeans · 4 years

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Boris Johnson’s Cabinet Reshuffle

Brexit is the alpha and omega of this government, even if it wishes to expunge the word from the political vocabulary. The tensions surrounding Brexit had become crystallised in the dysfunctional, poisonous relationship that had developed between Sajid Javid and Number 10 and which manifested itself in the one-hour showdown between prime minister and chancellor last Thursday that led to the latter’s resignation after only seven months in office. No self-respecting minister, said Javid afterwards, could accept the demand that he sack five advisers for them to be replaced by Number 10’s nominees – answering to Dominic Cummings and not to the chancellor. His replacement, Rishi Sunak, has had to accept the office on the terms Javid refused and is thus surrounded by a team who report to a stronger power centre. This arrangement would be impossible in a charity shop, let alone the second most important office in the land.

The reason for the coup is that Downing Street cannot accept the economic and political realities and policy consequences as relayed to them by the Treasury, which is keenly aware of two profoundly troubling economic facts. The first is that, despite the prime minister’s upbeat language, the immediate economic prospects are dire and demand extreme circumspection in how the economy is managed. Stagnating tax revenues do not provide the platform for the kind of public expenditure increases sought by Johnson and Cummings as they aim to level up north and south, unless the aim to limit borrowing only for capital expenditure is abandoned. Javid had aimed to balance current day-to-day spending and revenues by 2023, with even that pledge demanding tax increases, given poor growth prospects. It was not a message Number 10 could accept, with Johnson wanting to “ping off the guy ropes of self-doubt and negativity”. The Treasury’s world view was that of recalcitrant Remoaners.

The second is that the Treasury knows dire economic forecasts are intertwined with the reluctance of overseas and domestic companies to commit major investment in the UK with the spectre of an ultra-hard or even no-deal Brexit. If this year’s negotiations with the EU – crammed into a mere 10 months – end with Britain in effect having to trade with its overwhelmingly biggest trading partner on or close to unprivileged WTO terms, which senior ministers such as Michael Gove have floated as a real possibility about which the government is allegedly unconcerned, the economic implications are serious. There can only be a slowdown in exports to the EU, mirrored by an acceleration of imports, as well as a weakening in our vital surplus in financial services, because access to Europe’s markets in services on current terms will be denied. This is why the overwhelming bulk of economic forecasters predict lower growth as a result of a hard Brexit.

The Treasury wants to ameliorate this prospect by pressing for a framework trade agreement with the EU that preserves as much market access as possible, especially for the crucial financial services industry. Javid had been photographed going into Number 10 last Monday with a document making the case that Britain should push for “permanent equivalence” in the regulatory financial regime between Britain and Europe. The Treasury seeks to protect a £69bn trade surplus in financial services, fundamental to sustaining overseas investors’ confidence in sterling, especially as after Brexit Britain’s trade deficit is bound to widen. But this implies Britain being a rule-taker and not “taking back control”.

To make this case to Johnson and Cummings is to betray Brexit. The Treasury’s entire perspective – pushing for a comprehensive trade agreement, trying to safeguard the City and business while managing the economy cautiously given extreme economic weakness – is the antithesis of what Cummings and Johnson believe. The City is more than capable of looking after itself in a “global Britain”, while the way through any short-term economic weakness is to spend, cut taxes and borrow – straight out of Donald Trump’s economic playbook. Javid may have been willing to borrow for capital investment such as HS2, but that was not good enough. He had to be made to bend to Downing Street’s will – or go.

The necessity to follow through on all that a hard Brexit entails was at the heart of the reshuffle, and betrayed the motives behind the moves. The foreign and home secretaries – B team politicians but ultra-loyal to the government’s direction of travel – kept their jobs while those replacing sacked ministers could be relied upon to do Number 10’s bidding or help further centralise power. Thus, Suella Braverman’s job as attorney general will be to weaken the courts’ capacity to constrain government via judicial review, a process to be fundamentally reassessed, while new Northern Ireland secretary, Brandon Lewis, will be required to make none of the independent moves initiated by his predecessor, Julian Smith, which secured the power-sharing government.

The new cabinet is charged with taking the country through its greatest postwar challenge. The collective bet is that concerns about a hard or no-deal Brexit can be ignored as Remoaner gloom-mongering. Yet those concerns are very real and about to manifest themselves. Careless of all precautionary action, Number 10 is centralising power to ensure its will is met. The danger is inevitably that the government is set to founder on the rocks of Brexit. All of us are set to founder with it.

Observer 16/2/2020

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thegreenfairy13 · 5 years

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Dog Sitter Part 13 - A Bad Plan

A Gobblepot fanfic. When Oswald loses his dog Ed, Jim Gordon finds it and does an excellent job when it comes to taking care of the mobster’s furry friend. Read it on Ao3 here.

Thank you @mexican-texican for correcting my numerous mistakes and @butterfliesandresistance for holding my hand every week when I’m freaking out over my writing <3!

Oswald knows Jim will not come running to him, flowers in his hand, breaking down and declaring his undying love.

The Captain isn’t going to simply change sides and play for the dark forces all of a sudden, even if he admittedly has deep feelings for the King of Gotham. Because ultimately, James Gordon still divides the world into light and dark, good and evil.

And Oswald Cobblepot is evil. He himself won’t deny it. After all, he cooked his step-siblings, murdered in cold blood as well as out of rage. He has manipulated and tricked people, and he’ll continue doing so.

In fact, he already does. But this time, Oswald isn’t certain his machinations will work out in his favor. This time, he isn’t playing for money or power. No, he’s trying to win over the Captain’s heart, a heart that is almost lost already.

At first, Oswald hadn’t even noticed how dire the situation was. After kissing Jim and seeing his apartment, the mobster had been certain Harvey was exaggerating. Sure, the man had not been well.

But outright suicidal? Oswald Cobblepot would have died denying Jim Gordon could ever stop fighting for Gotham.

In his eyes, the man only needed a little nudge in the right direction. Just a slight disillusionment, a wake-up call that would make Jim see how the world isn’t only black and white and never truly would be. And how it is, despite everything, still worth fighting for.

He wanted to make him believe that his promise of changing the city had not only been empty words but a vow. He wanted to convince Jim how he could become his moral compass as he could become Jim’s most effective weapon in his war for justice.

His plan had been to show Jim how he had been another man’s moral compass before, how he already improves the city on a daily basis.

His heart had been pure when hatching the plan. Well, as pure as the heart of a murderer could be. Besides, he’s not some deluded serial killer who runs around finding victims for the sake of cutting a throat. Sometimes, needs must. It’s as simple as that.

Of course, his plan had backfired. Or Oswald had simply not thought it through. That becomes horrifyingly obvious when squinting at Jim’s pale, shaking figure beside him.

The Captain of the GCPD is currently driving Oswald Cobblepot and Harvey Bullock through the streets of Gotham. Mouth pressed into a thin line, he keeps glancing at rear mirror.

Bullock squirms uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asks for the about hundredth time, looking suspiciously at his friend.

Harvey sighs long and deeply. “Told you already buddy, I’m fine. You and your little gangster arrived just in time before I would have had to get some brand-new kneecaps.”

Jim nods tersely. “I’ll drop you off at your place?” he asks.

Reaching over from the backseat, Harvey puts a consoling hand onto Jim’s shoulder. “Are you sure you are alright?” he inquires skeptically.

“Of course, of course,” the Captain replies distractedly.

Bullock still looks quizzically at his friend. “There are no hard feelings?” he wants to know and Jim shakes his head again.

Oswald feels bad for Jim. Gripping his cane tightly, he looks away from the other man’s profile. Not because he wouldn’t still be handsome or desirable, quite the contrary, there isn’t much Oswald wants more than Jim Gordon. Yet he looks so goddamn exhausted, it’s physically painful to watch him even for a moment longer.

And it’s Oswald’s fault.

“And there are really no hard feelings?” Harvey asks again and Jim shakes his head in annoyance.

“Of course not,” he says, mustering a wide smile for his friend.

Finally leaning back, Bullock seems to relax.

“If anything, I haven’t really been a good friend,” Jim carries on. “You should have told me, Harv,” he says, flashing his colleague a severe stare over the mirror.

“Jim, I really had it under control,” the other man defends himself. “Just, this night... it got a bit outta hand.” The cop laughs uneasily. “Could we rather not…” he trails off, nodding towards the kingpin.

Jim’s grip around the steering wheel tightens and he almost lets it slide. “I knew you had a drinking problem,” he says instead. “I knew you went to prostitutes now and then. I knew that’s why you had financial troubles…”

“Honestly, Jim. I’d rather we won’t unpack that in front of him,” the other cop bellows.

“And why the fuck not?” Jim barks back. “He already knows more than me! And I’m your best friend. But you made me just team up with the crime-lord of Gotham to bail you out of a Chinese gambling den ‘cause you managed to lose 50 grand in one night! And I didn’t even know!”

“Because I didn’t want you to!” he hollers back. “Jim, really. You know I’m no saint.”

“How did that work until tonight?” he presses. “Did you run to Oswald whenever anything went wrong?” Gritting his teeth, Jim takes a sharp turn to the right.

“So you’re calling him Oswald now?”

“It’s his goddamn name!”

Closing his eyes, the gangster in question tries to tune out their bickering. Earlier this evening, he had practically forced Gordon on his doorstep. And now he’s paying the price. He should have expected that bringing the Captain low again would do more harm than good.

It had started with Harvey losing some money at a gambling den, which in itself wasn’t unusual. The only unusual thing tonight had been the kingpin’s refusal to pay for his debts immediately. Instead, when Harvey had called, he had told Butch to inform the cop he wouldn’t be available.

Bullock had lost a fairly big amount but nothing the kingpin wouldn’t have been willing to cover in return for valuable intel. But tonight, he had decided he wanted Jim to come to his place, begging for his friend's life.

He had known it was an amount Jim wouldn’t be able to cover, an amount Harvey could not simply borrow from the evidence room. With Bruce Wayne currently gone from Gotham, Jim had practically no other option but turning to Oswald Cobblepot when Harvey ultimately called him for help.

After all, not even hero-cop Jim Gordon can take on two dozen heavily armed gangsters and expect to get his friend out alive. So when Harvey had asked him for help, Jim had no other choice but to cut away another piece of his dignity and go to the Penguin for help.

In his imagination, Oswald had pictured Jim coming to him somewhat romantic. He would have told him about his friend in need and he would have been happy to help, showing him in the process how utterly selfless he could be.

Meanwhile, he could have taught Jim a lesson on people not being simply good or evil. He would have shown the cop how he had improved Harvey’s character. He would have told him about the times the other man used to work for, and with Fish Mooney, and how far he had been willing to go back then and how often he had broken the law in the good old times.

Yet, there had been nothing romantic about the broken man turning up on his doorstep. The old Jim, the man who would bark orders or slam the Penguin against walls had been wiped out, replaced by a hollow ghost.

He hadn’t even denied what had happened the last time they met. “I know what it looks like,” Jim had started before explaining to Oswald everything he already knew. “I know it must seem to you I’m….”

“Whoring yourself out?” Zsasz had supplied unhelpfully from the door.

Oswald had practically jumped at hearing his subordinate’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed the assassin eavesdropping. The King of Gotham had hardly ever been more enraged. If not for Jim, he would have strangled the other man with his bare hands. Instead, he smiled tightly and merely gestured for Victor to leave immediately. There would be consequences, though.

“Exactly that,” Jim had confirmed, looking Oswald straight in the eye. Outwardly, he seemed completely calm. The mobster hadn’t missed how his mouth twitched nervously.

“My dear, old friend,” he exclaimed consolingly. “I would never think anything this abhorrent about you.”

“You rather should,” he replied while Oswald opened his safe, gathering the needed money.

The entire time, Jim had been silent, meek. At this point, hearing him scream in the car is almost consoling. At least it shows there’s still some life left in the Captain. Oswald had forced Jim to debase himself again instead of making the intended progress.

It seems like everything Oswald loves burns to ashes. So far, he has at least managed to keep his son safe from his poisonous touch.

It had been Martin, his sweet, clever son, who had opened his eyes. Sadly, he hadn’t been able to see anything.

Three days ago, his boy had told him that he had found a new friend. Martin had been nervous about it, fearing his dad, his co-conspirator, would not understand. But Oswald had been thrilled and overjoyed that his son had finally found a kid of his own age to share his interests with.

Knowing all too well what loneliness and poverty feel like, Oswald only ever wanted for his child to be happy. Martin deserves everything he wants - including, of course, mutuals.

Martin’s new friend’s name is Henry. His son had invited this kid to sleep at the Van Dahl mansion because he wanted to show him the new puppy and play video-games all night. The mobster had been nervous about having another child at his home but he had agreed.

And then his boy had told him his friend’s parents were moving into a new home. Henry was annoyed by his mom cleaning their old flat vigorously.

Obviously, if you plan on leaving a place forever, you should always leave it behind in a pristine state.

At that moment, he finally understood what Jim cleaning his own apartment meticulously indeed meant.

Oswald originally thought it had been a sign of Harvey exaggerating and Jim still having his life under control. He had started to doubt that when Martin told him about his new friend. And now he knows Bullock had been right all along, Jim simply keeps his apartment clean for his colleagues who will inevitably have to clean up after him once he’s gone for good.

Harvey must know it’s the worst possible moment for Jim to find out about his friend’s personal troubles, too. His mental health had been spiraling south in the last couple of weeks. The Penguin hadn’t noticed and Bullock had been unable to do anything about it.

Coming back from his musings, the mobster tries to be nonchalant about it. “Honestly, Jim. It’s not such a big deal. We all got to keep our teeth. Especially Harvey,” he jokes lamely while pondering if putting his hand on the Captain’s arm would be a good idea.

Jim stares at him with a blank expression. “Yeah, we’re a great team,” he drawls sarcastically. “The two dirty cops and the gangster who always helps them out.”

For a moment, Oswald dares to hope the man has finally come around.

“I’m really just another crooked cop,” he huffs instead and the mobster's shoulders slump.

“Jim,” he starts gently. “We have done that before. Playing a bit beside the rules for the greater good.” The other man doesn’t reply.

Harvey looks worried when they finally stop at his place. It’s a small consolidation for the Penguin to know that the cop doesn’t suspect him any longer in being the reason for Jim’s latest foray into depression-wonderland.

“Whatever this is,” Bullock hisses into the mobster’s ear when exiting the car, “You should talk him out of it.”

The Penguin wants to laugh. Harvey and Jim have been friends for years and now he’s the one that has to mend this? He nods instead and waits for the other cop to drive him back home.

Jim runs a hand through his hair and starts the engine. It dawns on Oswald how they are alone again in a little cocoon and he can’t help but enjoy the feeling. It’s just so safe in the limited space of a car, there’s simply nowhere to run and no possibility of hiding.

“Your recent behavior is starting to become worrisome,” the gangster commences with a little sideways glance.

Jim ignores him. “You’ll get the money back,” he says instead.

Oswald merely rolls his eyes. Frankly, he couldn’t care less. It’s not really a sum worth mentioning to him anyway. Besides, it’s a hollow promise and Jim surely knows it.

“Are you hungry?” he wants to know after a moment, startling the crime-lord. “They opened a small Hungarian restaurant not far from my place. They make this… “ He sighs. “I really can’t pronounce it. It’s some kind of pancake stuffed with meat. Tastes good,” he adds with a lopsided smile.

Oswald gapes at the man sitting beside him. This was the last thing the Penguin expected out of him. Somehow, Jim seems to be on a mission to put him through the wringer.

“Are you asking me out?” he demands to know, a shy, hopeful smile playing around his lips.

“I suppose,” Jim shrugs. “I guess I owe you an apology.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Or two. And maybe an explanation. Well, the same goes for Harvey, probably.”

Oswald is too shocked to answer right away.

“So?” Jim presses, glancing at him uncertainly.

“I guess I could spare some time,” he answers haughtily, mentally kicking himself on how that came out. The cop doesn’t seem to mind though, already turning the car instead.

The place is indeed small. Only five tables, dimly lit and almost empty. The Penguin doubts the food will be edible but if James Gordon is finally willing to talk about his odd behavior and their frankly awkward relationship, he’s willing to wolf down some cardboard.

He knows the dish Jim had been talking about, Hortobágyi palacsinta, and taking in the state of the place, he already fears for his taste buds. The cop on the other hand finally seems to relax when ordering their dishes directly from their cook.

The man looks like the embodiment of a bad cliché. He’s hunched over, slightly overweight and wearing a jacket decorated with various sauce-stains. Oswald fears for his health, too, but when Jim smiles encouragingly, he takes his first bite with death-defying courage.

It’s, in fact, edible. Not nearly as good as his mother would have made it but the way Jim looks at him almost makes up for it. He should probably be mad at the other man. After their last encounter, he hasn’t heard a single word from him. And now they are on a date after Jim almost having a mental breakdown over Harvey.

Oswald snorts. Jim obviously has a thing for the crazy ones. Not that he’d describe himself as mentally stable either, but Jim is currently another level off the rocker.

“You wanted to tell me something?” he says warmly after taking his first bite. Meanwhile, his friend is pushing his own food around on his plate, staring helplessly at the chunks of meat and pancake.

“I did.” He pauses to chew and Oswald wonders when was the last time Jim had eaten anything other than frozen pizza or hot dogs. Probably when he had been looking after Ed.

“I found Brian Gold’s murderer,” he starts slowly. “He tried to rip off his cartel and paid the price. I arrested the thug who pulled the trigger. From there on it’s a dead end.”

Oswald nods. That’s at least some good news but definitely not why they are both here. Jim plays with his glass of water while studying the Penguin sadly.

“Did you ever feel like an entire failure?” he asks rhetorically and the mobster leans slightly forward. He could probably tell him about the time he was released from Arkham, his mother gone forever and his mind in tatters. Yet a single word would stop whatever Jim is about to tell him.

“When coming to Gotham, I wanted to be nothing more than an honest cop. I wanted to follow the law and the rules. Instead, I bent them a little, then broke them completely. And I picked and chose the rules I wanted to obey, for the love of the greater good. ‘Cause I thought if I break my own rules only once, or if I go just a little bit further, it wouldn’t hurt.” The cop squirms in his seat before looking the other man in the eye.

“Well, the city is stable,” Oswald remarks lightly him but Jim merely shakes his head.

“No thanks to me or the GCPD,” he huffs. “This city is ruled by gangsters and psychopaths. That’s exactly the reason the Court of Owls decided to destroy it entirely. I sometimes wonder if they should have simply done it. A fresh start from scratch. Of course, that’s mass murder and insane. But I don’t think…” His voice trails off and Oswald remains silent. For once, he’s completely calm in the other man’s company. If he truly wants Jim, this is his time to listen. Holding his breath, Oswald gestures for him to continue.

“I don’t think anything in Gotham truly makes a difference. You are Falcone’s heir and nobody can tell who will follow you. Did I ever tell you it was Sofia who brought Pyg to Gotham? It was her plan so she could destabilize your system of crime licenses.”

Putting his own fork down, he nods. He had known all of that before. After Sofia getting shot and falling into a coma, he made it his personal mission to find everything out about his opponent and her machinations. Jim would have never agreed to the alliance if he’d even assumed the woman would go as far as murdering his colleagues. He would’ve never expected Jim to admit it, though.

“I didn’t know at the time,” Jim carries on. “But I failed to do the right thing when I finally found out. Should have stepped down and face my trial.” He shrugs. “I’ve been a coward. As always.” Smiling awkwardly, he waits for the Penguin to confirm that last statement. Oswald would never do that.

“Let you rot in Arkham for a murder I committed and walked away when you needed my help,” he finishes, taking a sip from his water with trembling hands.

“You have been right all along, Oswald,” he whispers. “I turned reckless and irresponsible. I’m not a man who should take care of this city. Last time, you offered to change this city for me, but I’m too far gone to differ good from bad anymore. I became part of this city’s problem, not the solution. I’ve finally come to acknowledge that.”

He takes in a deep breath while Oswald slowly tries to recover. He would not have thought it possible for Jim to possess such a level of self-awareness. But here they are at least. His hero admits his sins and it’s probably the most sincere apology he’s ever gotten.

“You tried to do the right thing, though,” he declares in response. “That is more than any other man in Gotham ever did. And you did make a difference,” he sighs. “Whenever required, Harvey does the right thing, thanks to you. A bit of gambling or drinking doesn’t change that,” he consoles, but Jim isn’t having it.

“You offered me to work together with you,” he points out. “I teamed up with Sofia before and it destroyed her. Aren’t you afraid? You saw what happened to Lee, too. For some reason, you seem to have put me on a pedestal but the man you probably see in me, the man you met all those years ago behind Mooney’s club, has long ceased to exist.”

His hands are still shaking when picking up his fork again. Oswald doesn’t know what to say. No, he’s not afraid. In fact, he hasn’t been this fearless in such a long time. Yes, the cop is still fighting, it’s not easy on him, but finally, he’s opening his eyes to the truth.

He chose to love Jim a long time ago and nothing he’s done so far has managed to change that. Should he simply tell him that it doesn’t matter to him? That he wants this tainted version of James Gordon anyway? Jim could make him better and he would probably end up dragging him further down. They would be trapped in an endless, vicious circle, probably destroying each other like nothing else ever could.

Or Jim could finally start believing in them. Closing his eyes, the Penguin tries thinking of a solution. Of course, the stubborn bastard would make something as simple as finally admitting his feelings and what they both could be able to do this complicated.

“Is that the reason why you want to kill yourself?” he asks curiously, because finally, he has Jim were he wants him to be. At last, he’s being honest with himself. It makes the Penguin feel giddy, his plan worked after all. Not the way he intended, but well enough.

Jim snorts in response. “I’m a coward. Did you already forget that? I simply want to stop existing. Poof,” he says, opening his right hand as if showing him a magic trick. “I wish someone would finally wipe me off the board and I’d get spared the pain of waking up in the morning ever again,” he mumbles, averting the gangster’s eyes.

Leaning over the table, Oswald extends his hand and laces his fingers with Jim’s. The cop presses back, closing the circuit. His skin is warm, smooth. The Penguin wants to tell him how being alive is a gift. He had almost died before and if he knows one thing, it’s how death can never be desirable. Jim must know it too, somewhere deep down.

“I’m simply angry. Angry at myself how I ruined my life so much,” he admits after a long moment. “And I don’t understand…”

Before Jim can finish the sentence, Oswald squeezes his hand tightly. “I simply think we’ll have to put everything back into perspective for you,” he suggests affectionately.

“How?” Jim demands to know desperately.

Pressing a kiss to Jim’s forehead, the gangster shrugs. “I don’t know yet. Small steps, I suppose.”

He keeps smiling encouragingly despite the cop’s dubious frown. “Come on,” he tells him, slightly pulling on his hand. “Date night isn’t over yet.”

To his delight, Jim gets up and follows him without resistance.

#gobblepot #fanfiction

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getsuchan · 5 years

Text

Shopping Therapy

Kirei knew there were at least thirty-three ways this could go wrong. He just didn't think that the King of Heroes would be able to practice all thirty-three simultaneously and then add his own personal flair to it all.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11945029/1/Shopping-Therapy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013947

A/N: This is the result of me trying to actually learn how to do my laundry- the result of that was rather... unexpected. So, as I remain in exile in my room, scorned by all who don't appreciate my high intellect, this came to mind. So enjoy!

"It was my understanding that all Servants receive knowledge of the modern world upon materialization. Correct?"

"Indeed."

"You do understand that you cannot go outside like that. Right?"

The King of Heroes looked at his attire in confusion. "Why not? I suppose it may seem a bit out of place-"

"You will be arrested for indecent exposure."

"-but until I can replace the clothing Tokiomi purchased upon my request, I don't have any other choice." Gilgamesh finished with a glare.

After the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War, Gilgamesh had decided to stay in the Church with Kirei. Kirei himself thought it a better solution for the King to simply go buy himself an apartment complex and visit him, say, once a month for dinner. But that particular King wasn't someone you could kick out of your church without dire consequences, one of which would be something sharp and pointy into various places in your body. So far no real problems had risen, well, other than Gilgamesh complaining constantly about how his church was dark, dank and sinister (which coincidentally was just the way Kirei liked his churches, thank you very much) but in the last few days, the King had decided that the church had nothing more to offer him in terms of pleasures, what with the wine supply at its limit and all. As a result, he had determined that he would have to grace the unspeakably ugly modern world with his presence. Kirei didn't mind at all- in fact, he was certain that so long as nothing provoked him terribly, combined with his relatively good mood, he would be sensible and no one would end up with half a dozen Noble Phantasms pointed at them and the police asking questions he probably couldn't answer. But even so, Kirei couldn't possibly allow the King of Heroes to go out dressed like... that.

"But you can't go outside like that." Kirei insisted.

"Why? It is a perfectly fine piece of cloth, far superior to whatever cheap qualities pass for decent in this era."

"It is perfectly fine, so long as you can avoid every slight gust of wind or movement in general."

"You jest. I have seen women in less."

He can't be serious. Kirei thought with a sigh. "Gilgamesh, you are wearing nothing but a chiton. A very short, thin chiton that covers nothing from the navel up and the knee down. It doesn't even cover that much of what it is supposed to cover."

"Yes."

"You can't go out like that."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"But-"

"No 'buts'!"

Kirei pinched the bridge of his nose in a rare show of desperation. Despite that, however, when he next spoke his voice remained its usual monotone.

"Very well. I shall offer you one of my own uniforms for the time being and you can go shopping for new attire."

"You dare to ask of the King to lower himself to wearing your peasant clothes?"

"Just until you can buy your own!"

Gilgamesh opened his mouth to respond but then thought it over. Even he could see common sense when it was thrust right in front of his eyes covered in neon signs. (1)

"Very well. I am convinced."

The priest sighed in relief and went to his room with Gilgamesh close behind. As he took out one of his uniforms and handed it over, something came to him- something horrifying and good at the same time. Good, because if his suspicions were correct he would have some morsel of control over the obnoxious blonde behind him. And horrifying because the Holy Church was facing some financial difficulties and the first to get a decrease in salary were, of course, those who "lived for their faith and thus had no need for earthly pleasures". Namely, the priests of the Eighth Sacrament. Kirei barely managed to get a bit over the minimum wage for his role as a Holy Grail War overseer. That was not to say that Kirei didn't make some decent profit from his congression- he was a very skilled preacher if he said so himself and he was regularly ripping off the people of Fuyuki. The poor and unfortunate didn't see much of that profit either. However, when it came to the King's taste in clothing, it was unlikely that robbing a bank would suffice to do anything more than cover the expense of one shoe. And while Kirei knew that Gilgamesh was unlikely to have any qualms going out wearing only one shoe, he found himself unable to allow it.

"King of Heroes." he started, trying to approach the issue in a way that would not offend said King. "You do have the proper currency for this era in your vault, correct?"

The King stared at him with an eyebrow raised. "You mean those flimsy papers the modern people use? Of course not. Such peasant ways of acquiring the necessities for my lifestyle are beneath me. Behold Kirei! The true capacity of the King!" he announced and with a theatrical bow several Gates appeared and golden coins rained from the ceiling. Which was all nice and well, but this wasn't going to work quite the way the King thought. Kirei picked up a coin and examined it (stuffing a handful in his pocket while Gilgamesh was busy laughing).

"You cannot buy even a gum with those, let alone clothes."

The rain of ancient Sumerian gold ceased as did the laughing. "What?"

"You will most likely get yourself arrested for illicit trade in antiquities," he glanced meaningfully at the King, "on top of indecent exposure if you don't put the shirt on as well." Kirei pointed out and Gilgamesh complied with a scowl. "You need to have the currency of this land you find yourself into Gilgamesh. Didn't you learn that when you materialized?"

"Gold's value is the same in all eras."

"It... doesn't work that way exactly."

"Oh."

"Yes."

The silence stretched for a while.

"There is a black market in this place I presume?"

"You are not allowed to bring the mafia into this."

"As if I would ever grace such scum with my presence! Don't get too cocky with me mongrel!"

"I am sorry. But the issue remains that you cannot sell any amount of pure, ancient Sumerian gold in perfect condition or any fist-sized precious gems in the black market without a dozen men in black suits paying you a visit."

Another long, even more awkward silence. Gilgamesh sighed in frustration.

"Very well. Rejoice Kirei! In return for the gold in your pocket, you shall have the honor of paying for my purchases!" the King of Uruk declared, blatantly pleased with his generous offer.

So he saw that.

"There is no way I shall use your mongrel attire more than once. If you don't plan on accepting my decision, I shall be merciful and not punish you Kirei. Instead, I think I will simply change back into my own clothes." Gilgamesh said with a smirk. Kirei stared at him blankly for a while, with the King staring right back. It was the third long and uncomfortable silence today and a staring contest was a difficult thing when your opponent's slitted pupils kept changing in size. As he admitted defeat with a sigh, Kirei made a mental note to cook mapo tofu for dinner tonight.

"It's all junk! Is that what passes for quality fit for a King?" Gilgamesh proclaimed in frustration. And God, was his frustration loud. Too loud for Kirei's tastes, especially considering they were inside the best shop the mall had to offer. Most people would pay just for breathing in front of its windows, but Gilgamesh was looking in disgust at a hand-made leather jacket (a well-over Kirei's official abilities hand-made leather jacket- thank God for Rin Tohsaka's assets), the fourth item he had rejected within the past ten minutes. The assistant glared with vicious hatred at the ancient King, but quickly settled back to the universal fake, holier-than-thou smile assistants had on their face in the presence of costumers. After the King's rude dismissal of yet another over-the-top expensive shirt however, the woman left the counter and moved with confident strides towards them.

Oh good. And here I thought this was going to go down smoothly.

"How may I be of assistance?"

The moment Gilgamesh turned around to glare at the woman, Kirei abandoned all hope and decided to just roll with it.

Besides, how much worse can this get?

A/N: Oh Kirei, you silly billy. Don't you know that you should never ask such silly questions? ]:)

(1): [SPOILER]: He can't, not really, but this is what fanfic powers are for, no?

#gilgamesh #fate gilgamesh #kirei kotomine #fate stay night #Fate zero #fate UBW #fate series #gilgamesh is a dumbass #but what else is new #kirei kotomine has the patience of a saint #he is also running some sort of scam #gilgamesh on a shopping spree #what am i doin with my life #posted on ffnet and ao3 #just throwing that out there

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jmhwritesstuff · 6 years

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Get to know the writer tag

Tagged by @somethingwriterly ! (Loved your Jeff Goldblum answer!)

1. It’s the end of the world, or something like it. You need to burn books to stay warm. Which book off of your shelf burns first?

Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare. I’ve tried so hard to get into her books, and I just can’t. So this one has been sitting on my shelf for a long time; a bookmark never makes it past the first few pages. On to the fire it goes.

2. If your writing could convey a message that you, a dear reader, or the world need desperately hear, what message would you most wish to convey?

I have no idea. I think thousands of books convey so many messages that people latch on to all the time. War is not the answer or war has dire consequences; love is not everything or you don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy; you’re not the only outsider or you’re never truly alone; if your family sucks then find your tribe. The thing about messages in books is that they can be incredibly subjective to individual readers, and can heavily depend on what a person is currently going through. I could try to convey a strong message that will last forever, but it will only be relevant as long as the reader can relate, and they won’t relate to it forever.

3. Has an OC ever said something that surprised you? Whether it be a nugget of wisdom or a fact you didn’t know you knew or something that made you feel emotional?

Off the top of my head: I have a side character in my current WIP who says that art outlasts us, so even though it can be beautiful, what is it worth if no one is around to see it? And that really got me thinking. I also planned to have my MC be very empathetic and somewhat emotional, and then suddenly she was hard hearted and bitter in everything she said (and I like it better that way).

4. Do you collect things writing or reading related? Funko Pop figures? Notebooks? Bookmarks? Pens? Plushies? Snacks for designated reading and or writing time and so on?

I’ve discovered that a lot of writers enjoy collecting notebooks and never write in them - I am one of those writers. I’ve also gathered a nice collection of bookmarks from bookdepository that come with every order. Non-writing/reading related things are dinosaur ... things - like plushies, figurines, keyrings, ring holders. In truth, I used to be a bit of a hoarder, but I had a weird detachment from sentimentality a few years ago and now I don’t really collect stuff anymore.

5. A celebrity author you admire reads a book you’ve published, speaking words of praise that will appear on the cover of your book’s next print. Hooray. Now they’ve written a new book, which you’ve read, however it was not your cup of tea. Their publisher potentially wants to use a blurb from you about it. Do you tell the truth, or manufacture polite praise?

I would probably just manufacture something. Make it an objective blurb rather than personal views on the story.

6. A magic spell befalls you. You are sucked into one of your WIPs/short stories/etc. The only way to break the spell is to convince at least three OCs that you are their creator and the creator of their world. Which OCs would most likely believe you? Which would laugh in your face? What would you do or say to convince them?

Probably none of them? Like ... Brandt is a little naive so he may join my cause, but ... beyond telling them I know everything about them and what has happened and what is going to happen ... I think I’d just get thrown in a cell!

7. You’re stuck having one of your original villains over for dinner. How does it go?

Awkward. These guys would probably talk shit about my cooking while staring me down, and if they don’t kill me just for sport they most certainly wouldn’t stick around for long.

8. Has writing benefited you, brought relief, or improved your life in any way?

I once wrote an almost-novel that helped me process grief when I was 16-17, and I’ve written a lot of short stories that allowed me to explore issues I was dealing with personally. After a long and soul-crushing relationship, I went to university to study writing, and now my writing is better, I learnt a lot about different mediums, I had my first story published, and I got a job writing walkthroughs for video games. I’m by no means financially stable, or close to publishing a novel, but I’m grateful to writing for helping me deal with stuff and potentially opening doors in the future. I think I’d have been screwed otherwise.

9. You discover that whatever you write about comes to pass/becomes reality. Newly aware of this strange ability and after writing about winning some money, what’s the second thing you write about?

A better, fully working, permanent system for helping homeless people no longer be homeless. It bothers me that there isn’t one. If I were smart enough to figure it out, I’d write about that.

10. For whatever reason you’re forced into using a pen name. It can be as modest, or outlandish and eccentric as you wish; what name do you choose?

I used to want a pen name when I was younger. First name was Ruby, but I can’t remember the last name. Now I have this backup name: Billy Winchester. And not even because I want it, or love it, I just ... I took this name generator thing a long time ago that combined a pet’s name with an address, and that’s what I got. I even used it for a character in a story once. It’s just stuck with me over the years.

Alright, I’m gonna steal a couple questions from others as well as write my own, so ...

My questions ...

1. Has writing benefited you, brought relief, or improved your life in any way?

2. If your novel was adapted, who would be your dream cast for your OC(s)?

3. Who is an actor you like and consider good, but is always in bad movies?

4. On the other hand, who is an actor you consider bad, but is always in great movies?

5. What do you like the most about your OC(s)?

6. What do you dislike the most about your OC(s)?

7. What do you consider your greatest weakness in writing? What about your greatest strength?

8. What is your dream novel that you wish you could write?

9. If you’ve been writing for a long time, do you keep everything you have ever written? Or have you dumped old works in the trash? Why?

10. What is your favourite thing you’ve ever written, even if it will never see the light of day?

I’ll just tag a few people, you don’t have to do this of course!

@missvalerietanner @katywritesbooks @bookishdiplodocus @ryan-writes-fiction @maramahan @merigreenleaf @writebruh @bethanywritesbooks AND EVERYONE WHO FOLLOWS ME, HONESTLY.

#writing #writeblr #writer #writer tag

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incoherentmuttering · 6 years

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There’s something really fucked up about the culture of online service ratings that we’ve created in the past 15 years or so. Wherever you go, whatever you do, there’s a website just a click away to rate your experience. On the face of it, this seems innocuous, or even like an attempt by companies to make their products and services better. It’s a good thing. But then when you stop to consider the invisible people it could cost, the process stops seeming so innocent and starts to look oppressive as hell.

Reviews allow us to take on some of the company’s labor. We monitor each other, every day, and give ratings. “5 stars for you,” “2.5 because I didn’t like this person’s attitude,” “worst service I’ve ever had,” “my server was rude and should be fired.” The business no longer has to monitor their own employees, because we’ve done it for them. They can see who’s performing and who’s not, or rather, who customers perceive as competent and who they dislike. With the transaction number in hand, companies can use survey results and reviews to decide who to keep and who to fire, or who to give a raise and who to keep paying the bare minimum. We do their employee evaluations for them, saving the business money.

One of the huge problems with a system like this is that it doesn’t control for customer bias. We’ve all got unconscious biases that affect how we perceive people in the service industry. When I worked in retail management I had customers who complained about black employees who were doing a perfectly good job, and they complained in racial terms that made clear that the same level of service would have been rated as just fine had it come from a white employee. In cases like that I never held it against the employees because I knew the customer was the problem, but when customers like this follow the link on their receipt and fill in an online survey that doesn’t control for their biases, there is the potential that an employee could be poorly rated because the customer they served is a shitty person. Down the line when HR is determining who gets a raise and who doesn’t, they head to the surveys for information. An employee with lower ratings will receive a lower raise, regardless of whether the ratings system accurately reflects their quality of work.

Beyond the ways in which the online rating system affects people’s paychecks and helps out corporations, it’s also messy as hell because it’s so mentally destructive. There’s so much stress for people in the service industry because of online reviews. The constant knowledge that every customer you interact with could potentially cost you your job really wears on your mental health. A lot of people respond to that with “welp, if they’re doing a good job it shouldn’t be an issue,” but like I said above, sometimes doing a good job isn’t enough. Some customers are just pissed off before you ever meet them. Knowing that ending up with the angry customer at your table or register could lead to you being written up by a manager is exhausting. Knowing that if you make a minor mistake at work (which, btw, is an extremely human and absolutely acceptable thing to do) it could jeopardize your ability to earn a living is hard knowledge to live with. It starts to feel like you have to be perfect every second of every day.

Finally, I hate the review culture because it’s classist as hell. When was the last time you saw a person with power being sanctioned because of poor customer reviews? Bankers on Wall Street sit around engaging in risky business moves that critically damage the economy and hurt the working class and nothing happens to them. There’s no survey on the receipt to indicate your dissatisfaction, and even if there were there would be no consequences for a poor rating. Politicians regularly ignore their constituents and push through bills that serve their interests and at best you can vote them out every few years, although their political and financial power usually means they avoid even this kind of censure. We only hear about the behavior of wealthy people in their jobs if they get caught in a major scandal. Retail workers, truck drivers, and restaurant servers walk around with “tell me how I’m doing” written on their backs every day, and they live with the stress of constantly being monitored and judged, but bankers, politicians, and CEO’s have their behavior largely ignored by the general public. No one calls them into a room and reads off anonymous criticism to them unless they really fuck up and the press chooses to report on it. Even then, they can just change the channel, put together a PR campaign, and know that the 2 star review won’t keep them from getting a raise or keeping their jobs.

On the one hand, we get a rush when we leave a business after a bad interaction with an employee and get online to call them out, but on the other hand, participating in this system kind of feels wrong. Maybe they’re a great person who had a bad day. Maybe they’re new to their job. Maybe this has more to do with our own moods than their job performance. In most cases, infractions are, in the long run, pretty minor, but when we write a nasty review the consequences can be dire for the employees we call out. It’s usually not worth it to get someone written up or fired for you to get a rush of adrenaline and a feeling of smug satisfaction.

This system of policing each other reinforces class lines and pits us against each other on the lower levels of society while the people up top experience zero consequences for their actions. Maybe it’s time we moved away from being distracted by every minor fuck up a service industry worker makes and start paying attention to the ways the industries themselves and the people that run them are fucking us over.

#reviews #classism #labor #random things i'm thinking about #work #customer service #eat the rich

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instant-payday-loans-247-blog · 2 years

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What if I am unable to repay my loan as per my terms?

Taking Online Payday Loans No Credit Check Instant Approval Canada and not being able to repay it on time cannot be good for anyone. After all, if something like this happens then it can be harmful to you. Be sure whether or not paying off your loan may affect you differently.

There are a lot of loans available in the market, but one of them is payday loans, on which borrowers depend during their financial difficulties. It is the people who create their financial identity through their financial good habits or bad habits.

If you have good financial habits from financial aspects then you will not have any problem in availing of the services because of your good credit history. On the other hand, if you are not serious about your responsibilities then only God can be your master.

Very often, people have to pay extra charges in the form of higher interest rates for not repaying their loans on time. Sometimes, it spoils your financial image, making it quite difficult for you to get loan approval.

What kind of legal action will I face in case of non-payment?

do not get upset! You are not going to jail if you don’t pay your loan on time under their terms. Yes, you will have to pay extra charges as you will get late payments which can negatively affect your credit score.

This could be one of the punishments for non-payment that you will have to face. There are many lenders with whom you can discuss further and get the right advice that can ease your troubles.

How Fast Can I Get an E-Transfer Payday Loan in Canada?

Well, it totally depends on how you have chosen to apply for instant wire transfer payday loans in Canada in a number of ways. Because while applying for a loan with direct lenders you can get loan approval in very little time, not more than 10 to 15 minutes.

Almost all types of lenders can assure you of getting quick approval, but you have to understand how true this is. With the right and reliable direct lenders, you don’t have to wait until traditional banks ask you to do so.

Direct Lenders can greatly speed up the process and you can enjoy money in your bank account in 1 hour instead of waiting for days.

How do I close my bank account to avoid Payday Loan?

It is good to stay away from lenders who charge money directly from your account without getting any response from you. You can do this, but it will be more problematic for you as lenders use other methods to collect money from you.

Many payday lenders turn to collection agencies to get their money back. After this, the collection agencies work and they try to contact you by all means. This makes it easy for them to get the payday amount from you even you may be faced with multiple calls from them in a day.

What should I do to pay off my loan?

There is a lot you can do even if you are unable to repay your loan on time. You can talk to the service provider and request for loan waiver. Also, what you can do is that you can go for a debt consolidation plan to get rid of the loan repayment.

There are other things you can resort to like procrastination or it could be tolerance. They will be of great help to you when you find yourself helpless to repay your debts and avoid their dire consequences.

Last Word

It is better to take e-transfer instant payday loans in Canada 24/7 that you can easily repay. Otherwise, the loan has side effects that can make you pay higher interest rates and penalties. You may not be able to tolerate that result.

Your credit score is the most important part that helps lenders decide whether to help you with lending funds or not. It can also affect negatively as well as paralyze you financially making it difficult to stand back.

#payday_loans #paydayloans #loan

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xtruss · 3 years

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Recreation at Risk as Lake Powell Dips to Historic Low

— By Sophia Eppolito | August 8, 2021 | Associated Press

PAGE, Arizona (AP) — A thick, white band of newly exposed rock face stretches high above boaters’ heads at Lake Powell, creating a sharp contrast against the famous red desert terrain as their vessels weave through tight canyons that were once underwater.

It’s a stark reminder of how far the water level has fallen at the massive reservoir on the Utah-Arizona border. Just last year, it was more than 50 feet (15 meters) higher. Now, the level at the popular destination for houseboat vacations is at a historic low amid a climate change-fueled megadrought engulfing the U.S. West.

At Lake Powell, tents are tucked along shorelines that haven’t seen water for years. Bright-colored jet-skis fly across the water, passing kayakers, water-skiers and fishermen under a blistering desert sun. Closed boat ramps have forced some houseboats off the lake, leaving tourists and businesses scrambling. One ramp is so far above the water, people have to carry kayaks and stand-up paddleboards down a steep cliff face to reach the surface.

A white band of newly exposed rock is shown along the canyon walls at Lake Powell near Antelope Point Marina on Friday, July 30, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Houseboat-rental companies have had to cancel their bookings through August — one of their most popular months — after the National Park Service, which manages the lake, barred people from launching the vessels in mid-July.

At the popular main launch point on Wahweap Bay, the bottom of the concrete ramp has been extended with steel pipes so boats can still get on the lake, but that solution will only last another week or two, the park service said.

“It’s really sad that they’re allowing such a beautiful, beautiful place to fall apart,” said Bob Reed, who runs touring company Up Lake Adventures.

Bill Schneider stands near Antelope Point’s public launch ramp off Lake Powell, which closed to houseboats as early as October of 2020 Saturday, July 31, 2021, near Page, Arizona. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Left: A “Launch Ramp Closed” sign is shown at the Antelope Point launch ramp on Lake Powell Saturday, July 31, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer) Right: A “No Launching Houseboats” sign is shown at the Wahweap launch ramp on Lake Powell Saturday, July 31, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Lake Powell is the second-largest reservoir in the United States, right behind Nevada’s Lake Mead, which also stores water from the Colorado River. Both are shrinking faster than expected, a dire concern for a seven-state region that relies on the river to supply water to 40 million people and a $5 billion-a-year agricultural industry.

They are among several large bodies of water in the U.S. West that have hit record lows this summer, including the Great Salt Lake in Utah. Lake Oroville in California is expected to reach a historic low by late August, with the state’s more than 1,500 reservoirs 50% lower than they should be this time of year.

In 1983, Lake Powell’s water exceeded its maximum level of 3,700 feet (1,127 meters) and nearly overran Glen Canyon Dam. The lake is facing a new set of challenges having reached a record low of 3,553 feet (1,082 meters) last week.

Houseboats are shown at Wahweap Marina on Lake Powell, the second-largest reservoir in the United States, Thursday, July 29, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Government officials had to begin releasing water from sources upstream last month to keep the lake’s level from dropping so low it would have threatened hydropower supplied by the dam.

It comes as less snowpack flows into the Colorado River and its tributaries, and hot temperatures parch soil and cause more river water to evaporate as it streams through the drought-plagued American West. Studies have linked the region’s more than 20-year megadrought to human-caused climate change.

Fluctuating water levels have long been a staple of Lake Powell, but National Park Service officials say the usual forecasts weren’t able to predict just how bad 2021 would be.

Finger-pointing has started as boaters, local officials and the park service debate what to do now.

“The park service has failed to plan,” area homeowner Bill Schneider said. “If it gets to the point where we’re so low that you can’t put boats in the water and you can’t come up with a solution to put boats in the water, why would you come to Lake Powell?”

Left: Bob Reed, who runs the touring company Up Lake Adventures on Lake Powell, speaks during an interview Friday, July 30, 2021, in Big Water, Utah. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer) Right: A family’s houseboat is pulled from the Wahweap launch ramp after a three-week vacation at Lake Powell Thursday, July 29, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Visitors carry a kayak up a newly exposed cliff face beneath the closed Antelope Point launch ramp on Lake Powell Saturday, July 31, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

The 53-year-old bought a retirement home in nearby Page, Arizona, after completing 25 years of military service in February. He wanted to return to Wahweap Bay where he spent most of his childhood and teen years fishing, waterskiing and working odd jobs around the lake. But after watching how the lake has been managed, Schneider says he’s starting to regret it.

Officials say they have solutions for families and boaters who sometimes plan years ahead to explore the glassy waters that extend into narrow red rock canyons and the tourism industry that depends on them.

Once the severity of the drought became clear, federal officials began looking for options to allow boat access at low water levels, said William Shott, superintendent of the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, where Lake Powell is located. The park service discovered an old ramp on Wahweap Bay that will be built out to support houseboats and smaller motorboats.

Shott says he hopes the $3 million ramp can be completed by Labor Day weekend. The project is funded by the park service and lake concessionaire Aramark.

The agency and officials from the town of Page, which relies on lake tourism, plan to open another old asphalt ramp to provide access for smaller boats while the larger one is updated.

Tom Materna, who has been visiting Lake Powell for 20 years, launched his family’s 65-foot (20-meter) timeshare houseboat just hours before the main ramp closed but had to cut their vacation short as water levels dropped in mid-July.

“They said no more launching out of the Wahweap ramp, so we were glad we made it out,” the Los Angeles resident said. “Then the next day I think or two days later, they called us up and told us that all launch and retrieve houseboats had to be off the lake.”

Tire tracks are curved in the dirt at the closed Wahweap Stateline launch ramp on Lake Powell Friday, July 30, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Left: A houseboat rests in a cove at Lake Powell Friday, July 30, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer) Right: Houseboats are shown at Wahweap Marina on Lake Powell, the second-largest reservoir in the United States, Thursday, July 29, 2021, near Page, Ariz. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

Page Mayor Bill Diak said losing boat access to the lake could have devastating financial consequences for the city of 7,500.

He said local leaders were “slow” to address dropping water levels and limited boat access but that he’s been working closer with park officials and concessionaires on solutions.

“We could have been a little bit more proactive on planning … but we’re moving in the right direction now working together,” Diak said.

He stressed that the impact of climate change needs to be addressed, noting that the U.S. West could be facing far more pressing issues than lake access if the drought continues for another 20 years.

One silver lining, Shott says, is the park service can build boat ramps that are usable even during record drought years. Over $8 million in other low-water projects also are underway.

“Even if we did have a crystal ball and we saw that these lake levels were going to get this low, we couldn’t have prevented it anyways,” Shott said. “With that said, we’re taking advantage of the low water now.”

Troy Sherman, co-owner of a business renting environmentally friendly anchors to houseboats, said the marina housing Beach Bags Anchors shut down shortly after his company launched in spring 2020 because of the coronavirus pandemic. It relaunched this year but had to cancel 95% of its bookings in July when ramps closed to houseboats.

“Until there’s really access to a ramp again to put houseboats in, my business is kind of in a holding pattern,” Sherman said. “But we’ll totally persevere; it’s what you have to do.”

A white band of newly exposed rock is shown along the canyon walls at Lake Powell at Antelope Point Marina on Friday, July 30, 2021, near Page, Ariz. It highlights the difference between today’s lake level and the lake’s high-water mark. (AP Photo/Rick Bowmer)

— Eppolito is a corps member for the Associated Press/Report for America Statehouse News Initiative. Report for America is a nonprofit national service program that places journalists in local newsrooms to report on undercovered issues.

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