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orionares · 1 year

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BTHB: Make an Example of Them

BTHB: Make an Example of Them

NCIS: Los Angeles

@badthingshappenbingo

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A/N: This takes place during episodes 12x07 "Overdue" through 12x09 "A Fait Accompli."

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December 2020- Brunswick, Georgia

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Ex- NCIS Supervisory Special Agent and FLETC Trainer Benjamin Lowe pulls off his glasses in disbelief at the cadet file that sits at the top of the pile on his desk. He briefly rubs his eyes as he sits at the mahogany desk in his study, hoping that the name of the cadet and more importantly, that the operations manager and office of origin listed is either a mistake or his imagination.

Applicant Office: NCIS- Southwest: Office of Special Projects, Los Angeles

Operations Manager: Admiral Hollace Kilbride/ Henrietta Lange:

Applicant Name: Deeks, Martin Atticus

What in the absolute hell? One of Hetty’s little pet projects got into FLETC?

Lowe leans back in the chair and pulls the file into his lap. Henrietta Lange is a name he hasn’t heard a lot since retiring from NCIS and opting to teach at FLETC. He’s found it to be a gift, not having to deal with the woman who’d damn near got him killed in 1998 during an investigation in Djibouti and interrupted four of his investigations during the last fourteen years with her little team back in Los Angeles.

And that little pet project- the motor mouth had rambled incessantly during every bloody investigation. When Lowe opens the file and sees the blue eyes, the cocky smirk and the messy blonde hair of Marty Deeks, he remembers his eye twitching during the last investigation while thinking- someone needs to chop off your damn hair.

Lowe’s eyes flicker over to the man’s age and he’s immediately tempted to break open the twenty-six year old scotch sitting in his bookshelf at the obvious gap between the cut off age and Deeks’ age.

“What kind of strings did that little psychopath pull to get you in?” Lowe mutters as he scans the recommendations from LAPD and various members of the Navy, Marines and even Interpol. “Blackmail? Money? Because my God- I’m not wasting time on-”

Reason for termination- Liaison position cut; budget cuts at LAPD

A small smile grows on Lowe’s face at the line at the bottom of the first page. “You sound like a desperate man in need of a job, Detective.”

He flips the page and scans the first two paragraphs of the interview that had taken place a week prior. Nothing stands out at him- nothing screams out at him to give him answers to the question he needs.

How did you get into FLETC- no, how did Henrietta get you in?

Lowe glances over to the remaining pages in the file and decides to shut the case and exhale. He replays the last time he’d crossed paths with Henrietta and her merry band of agents.

“You screwed me, Lange. This is my-”

“Walk it off, Lowe. This investigation is mine."

He huffs in frustration again and makes his decision- Alright, Marty Deeks. You are going to be the shining example of what a FLETC and more importantly, a federal agent shouldn't ever look like.

Lowe glances back over to the scotch and sighs, thinking- And I’m going to make sure everyone knows that everything and everyone Hetty touches is poison.

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Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, Glynco- Brunswick, Georgia- January 2021

"So you're doing Advanced Interviewing? Cool, cool, cool- look, Deeks- there's something you need to know."

Fatima's warning, coming in the form of a nervous, rambling phone call, brings just fabulous news.

Marty Deeks winces as he gingerly walks behind a group of cadets walking to classroom 226. He inhales and exhales every few steps as he fights off the pain from his sprained ribs and shoulder strain from an overzealous cadet during sparring.

And now, Deeks thinks as he pauses in front of the classroom, I'm about to be taught by someone who hates me and Hetty. Great.

Deeks pushes the classroom door open and finds the room to have four rows of three desks each, all facing a broad shouldered older man writing something on the board. Deeks slides into the closest available seat in the back row.

“Sit down,” Lowe grumbles. He continues to write out the full class name- Advanced Interviewing for Law Enforcement Investigators- on the board as he continues, “I only have you lot for five days and there is a hell of a lot to cover.”

And hopefully you don’t spend half of that picking on me, Deeks thinks. He quickly glances over to the other cadets, recognizing the arrogant ex- soldier mirroring Sam in his early days, the ex- FBI agent going through retraining and two cadets that could be twins scattered around in random desks throughout the room.

“So, let’s begin,” Lowe states. He steps towards the first row of desks and he begins to scan the group of students. “You all already have the basics for interviewing victims, witnesses and suspects but now we’re going to refine it with more techniques, more opportunities to practice those techniques and-”

Lowe stops just as his eyes fall on Deeks. The ex-detective looks down to his desk and waits for the impending comment.

Briefly, after a few seconds pass, he has hope that Lowe will be professional.

But of course, Lowe doesn’t.

“But before we start,” Lowe says with a grin. He walks around the furthest corner desk and towards Deeks. “We have a unique case as a cadet here. A police detective who got in over the age limit."

Goddamn it, Deeks thinks. He sneaks a glance over to another cadet- Jameson or Johnson if he can remember correctly- who eyes him suspiciously. Lowe stops in front of Deeks’ desk and smiles down at him as if looking at a child. “Ladies and gentleman, I’ve worked with this man and he thinks everything is a goddamn joke.”

“Knew something was off,” the ex-soldier mutters under his breath.

Deeks shakes his head and looks back up to Lowe. “It was a pleasure each time,” he replies through gritted teeth.

“There’s that sense of humor,” Lowe counters and turns on his feet. “So let’s start this class with you all learning on what not to do when interviewing. Learn from someone who shouldn’t be here, by any means.”

“And how is that…..sir?”

Lowe pulls out a chair from an empty desk and turns it towards the class. “By answering a few questions. Sharing your own experience as a ‘liason’. Let’s go.”

This can’t be a thing, can it? Deeks wonders as he rises to his feet and starts walking up to Lowe, feeling every pair of eyes on him. It’s a stark reminder- a flashback- of his sixth grade teacher who had paraded him up to the front of the class to try to catch him for not paying attention.

He had been paying attention and easily vindicated.

Or the time a Lieutenant Compton had paraded him in front of officers on his first day in the undercover unit as an example of ‘lawyer turned cop wannabe’.

“Take a seat, superstar,” Lowe orders. He leans against his desk with crossed arms as Deeks sits in the chair. He opts to look straight ahead instead of on the crowd or Lowe.

He wants me to look uncomfortable. He wants to feed off of the power.

“I’ve crossed paths with you four times, Detective-” Lowe states, “and every single time, you've seen to take things as a goddamn joke. Every time . And that proves that you've skated through this job without a scratch."

He’s underestimating me. Just like so many others have. Deeks shifts in his seat but keeps his eyes glued on the door. "I disagree…sir."

"Really now?" Lowe challenges. He kneels on Deeks' left side and scoffs, "What's the worst thing you've seen on the job?"

Deeks can’t tell what shocks him more- the unprofessionalism or the questions in itself. Even in the sessions with Nate and the NCIS psychologist Kilbride had required the team to go to a few months after his arrival, no’s ever asked that question.

So Deeks opts for the only thing he can think of. “No.”

"Excuse me?"

“I’m not- I can’t answer that,” Deeks replies, “Your question is leading. Law enforcement officers are usually asked questions like that in therapy or intimate moments. My instinct with a question like that is to recall cases that were traumatic to me physically and or emotionally. So-"

"You got here on special treatment, " Lowe sneers. "What could possibly qualify-”

"You haven’t- Fine." Deeks leans forward and cups his hands together. "You need a cognitive restatement when doing a cognitive interview- think back to such and such and tell me what you hear, see, feel. I have to pick a case first."

In the corner of his eye, he can see a few of the cadets exchange looks. "Do you want something from the years of me going undercover in the LAPD, knowing that no one cared if I lived or died? I could recall the time where after being beaten for hours, my Lieutenant threw me an ice pack and threw me on another case right after? I did that for years- it'd take me a minute to pinpoint one."

Lowe holds out a hand to stop him but the ex- detective continues, as if on autopilot. He's numb as he continues to recall every traumatic moment that comes to mind. “I could do the times I’ve gone overseas to places like Syria and Iraq and put my life on the line to protect this country?"

Behind him, Lowe mutters, "You didn't- You never-"

Deeks feels himself shaking with anger but can’t bring himself to move. Instead, he takes a breath and says as calmly as possible, “I could recall the injuries myself and my team have experienced- the helicopter that nearly killed my wife and took her leg, the TBI I had from a rocket blowing us up in Mexico?”

Deeks drops his shoulders and finally looks back to Lowe. “Or do you want to hear the time when someone took me, tied me down and drilled in my mouth! Because if you want a memory to start the conversation, I could focus on the sound of the drill or the feel of blood drying on my mouth and my neck from sitting in a room for hours after!”

“Jesus,” a cadet in the front mutters under his breath. It pulls Deeks back into reality and he lets out a shaky breath. “Most importantly, in cognitive interviewing, you do not overwhelm the person you are interviewing as it will cloud the rapport and their recall. So am I done?”

After a few moments of silence, Deeks looks up to see Lowe staring him down blankly. He’s pale and unnerved as he takes a few steps back from Deeks and rubs his chin.

“Fine. All of you can go. That’s it for the day.” Lowe mutters. He waves off and turns his away and Deeks doesn’t take another second before calmly rising from his chair and walking back towards the door. He’s the first one out of the room and takes an immediate beeline towards the closest empty classroom.

Shutting the door behind him, Deeks puts his hands on his knees and mutters, “What the hell was that?”

He slides down to the ground and feels his body continue to shake. What the hell just happened? What did I just do?

#bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo #ncis la #marty deeks #make an example of them

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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Steps from the Capitol, Trump allies buy up properties to build MAGA campus | The Washington Post

At first glance, the flurry of real estate sales two blocks east of the U.S. Capitol appeared unremarkable in a city where such sales are common. In the span of a year, a seemingly unrelated gaggle of recently formed companies bought nine properties, all within steps of one another.

But the sales were not coincidental. Unbeknown to most of the sellers, the limited liability companies making the purchases — a shopping spree that added up to $41 million — are connected to a conservative nonprofit led by Mark Meadows, who was Chief of Staff to President Donald Trump. The organization has promoted MAGA stars like Reps. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.) and Lauren Boebert (R-Colo.).

The Conservative Partnership Institute, as the nonprofit is known, now controls four commercial properties along a single Pennsylvania Avenue block, three adjoining rowhouses around the corner, and a garage and carriage house in the rear alley. CPI’s aim, as expressed in its annual report, is to transform the swath of prime real estate into a campus it calls “Patriots’ Row.”

The acquisitions strike some Capitol Hill regulars as puzzling, considering that Republicans have long made a sport of denigrating Washington as a dysfunctional “swamp,” the latest evidence being a successful GOP-led effort to block local D.C. legislation to revise the city’s criminal code.

“So you don’t respect how we administer our city and then you secretly buy up chunks of it?” said Tim Krepp, a Capitol Hill resident who works as a tour guide and has written about the neighborhood’s history. “If it’s such a hellhole, go to Virginia.”

Reached on his cellphone, Edward Corrigan, CPI’s president, whose name appears on public documents related to the sales, had no immediate comment on the purchases, which were first reported by Grid News and confirmed by The Washington Post. “I’ll get back to you,” Corrigan said. He did not respond to follow-up messages.

Former senator Jim DeMint, CPI’s founder, and Meadows, a senior partner at the organization, did not respond to emails seeking comment. Cameron Seward, CPI’s general counsel and director of operations, whose name appears on incorporation documents related to the companies making the purchases, did not respond to a text or an email.

As Congress’s neighbors, denizens of the Capitol Hill neighborhood are accustomed to existing in close quarters with all varieties of official Washington. Walk the neighborhood and you might catch a glimpse of Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) or former Trump strategist Stephen K. Bannon, among those who own homes near the Capitol. The Republican and Democratic national committees both have offices in the neighborhood.

But it’s rare, if not unprecedented, for a nonprofit to purchase as many properties in such proximity and in so short a period of time as CPI has assembled through its related companies, a roster with names like Clear Plains Holdings, Brunswick Partners, Houston Group, Newpoint and Pennsylvania Avenue Holdings. The companies list Seward as an officer on corporate filings, as well as CPI’s Independence Avenue headquarters as their principal address.

Now, in what may be an only-in-Washington vista, a single Pennsylvania Avenue block is occupied by Public Citizen, the left-leaning consumer advocacy group, the Heritage Foundation, the conservative think tank, and CPI, which bought four properties through its affiliates.

In addition to the nine D.C. parcels CPI’s network has bought since January 2022, another affiliated company, Federal Investors, paid $7.2 million for a sprawling 11-bedroom retreat on the Eastern Shore. In 2020, CPI, under its own name, also spent $1.5 million for a rowhouse next to its headquarters, which it leases, a few blocks from the Capitol.

DeMint, a former Republican congressman from South Carolina, started CPI in 2017, shortly after he was ousted as Heritage’s leader amid criticism that the think tank had become too political under his direction. Meadows joined in 2021, after working as Trump’s Chief of Staff. He was by Trump’s side during the administration’s final calamitous days, before and after the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol and as the President’s allies were seeking to overturn election results.

On its 2021 tax returns, CPI reported $45 million in revenue, most of it generated through contributions and grants, and paid DeMint and Meadows compensation packages of $542,000 and $559,000, respectively. Its current offices, a three-story townhouse at the corner of Third Street and Independence Avenue SE, is a hub of GOP activity. During the chaotic lead-up to Rep. Kevin McCarthy’s election as House Speaker, dissident Republican lawmakers were observed congregating at CPI.

CPI also provides grants to a cluster of nonprofits headed by Trump allies. Former Trump adviser Stephen Miller, for example, leads America First Legal, which received $1.3 million from CPI in 2021 and bills itself as a check on “lawless executive actions and the Radical Left.”

Cleta Mitchell, an attorney who was on the call Trump made to Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger seeking to reverse votes in the 2020 election, runs what the organization bills as its “Election Integrity Network,” which has cast doubt on the validity of President Biden’s 2020 victory.

“The election was rigged,” EIN tweeted last July. “Trump won.”

CLOSE TO THE CAPITOL

At an introductory meeting in December, recalled Gerald Sroufe, an advisory neighborhood commissioner on Capitol Hill, a CPI representative said the group planned to move its headquarters to a three-story building it had bought on Pennsylvania Avenue, next to Heritage’s office. Until the pandemic forced it to close, the Capitol Lounge had occupied the 130-year-old building. The bar had served a nightly bipartisan swarm of congressional staffers and lobbyists for more than two decades.

The CPI official, Sroufe said, indicated that the group planned to use the new Pennsylvania Avenue properties to “expand” its offices and “provide new retail.” But the official made no mention of Patriots’ Row, Sroufe said, or the three rowhouses the group’s affiliates had bought around the corner on Third Street SE. All of the properties are in the neighborhood’s historic district, which protects them from being altered without city review.

“This is much grander than what we were talking about,” Sroufe said after learning from a reporter about the other purchases. “On the Hill, people are always talking about how wonderful it is to be close to the Capitol and Congress. It’s kind of like a curse.”

As in many commercial corridors hit hard by the pandemic, businesses along Pennsylvania Avenue have struggled over the past couple of years. Tony Tomelden, executive director of the Capitol Hill Association of Merchants and Professionals, said CPI could energize a strip pocked with vacant storefronts.

“I welcome any business because the only thing opening right now are marijuana shops,” said Tomelden, an H Street NE bar owner who helped open the Capitol Lounge in 1996 and, as it happens, instituted a rule that patrons could not talk politics while imbibing. “If they’re going to pay a lot of money and raise property values, I’m all for it. I don’t care about anybody’s politics as long as they pay their tab.”

In an overwhelmingly Democratic city, finding those who are less sanguine about CPI’s growing footprint is not exactly difficult.

Yet politics is only part of the issue, as far as Krepp is concerned. CPI’s purchases, he said, threaten the area’s neighborhood vibe, as would be the case if any group, no matter its ideological leaning, bought as many properties. “I don’t want to create another downtown on Capitol Hill,” he said. “There’s a glut of available office space downtown. You don’t have to buy up neighborhoods.”

Rep. Jamie B. Raskin (D-Md.), a regular commuter to the Capitol from his home in Montgomery County, sees CPI’s acquisitions in terms more political than geographic.

“It just seems like a massive real estate coming-out party for the extreme right wing of the Republican Party,” Raskin said. “This is a very explicit and well-financed statement of intent. They set out to take over the Republican Party and they’re very close to clenching the power.”

Instead of Patriots’ Row, Raskin suggested an alternative name: Seditionist Square.

“Maybe Marjorie Taylor Greene can be their advisory neighborhood commissioner,” he said.

A ‘PERMANENT BULWARK’ IN D.C.

On its 2021 tax return, CPI said its mission is to be a “platform” for the “conservative movement,” and to provide “public policy” training for “government and nonprofit staffers” and meeting space for gatherings and policy debates.

Although not required to identify donors, CPI reported seven contributions in excess of $1 million, including one of more than $25 million. Trump’s Save America political action committee gave $1 million in 2021, according to campaign finance records. Billionaire Richard Uihlein, a major Republican donor, gave $1.25 million a couple of years ago through his foundation, records show.

A CPI-related entity, the Conservative Partnership Center, rented space to two political action committees as of early January, the House Freedom Fund and Senate Conservative Fund, according to campaign finance records. CPI also received $4,000 from Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-Fla.), who has recorded his “Firebrand” podcast at the group’s studio, as has the host of the “Gosar Minute,” Rep. Paul A. Gosar (R-Ariz.), according to the group’s annual report. Greene paid CPI $437.73 for “catering for political meetings” in 2021, the records show.

“No one stood up to the Left as courageously as Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene,” CPI declared in its 2021 annual report, hailing her as a “hero” who “endured sexist fury that always lurks just beneath the progressive surface.” The report described Boebert as a “gun rights advocate” who “wants to protect our environment more than anyone else.”

It was in CPI’s 2022 annual report that the group briefly referred to its expansion plans, writing that it has strengthened “its ability to serve the movement by beginning renovations to Patriots’ Row on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“In 2022, the Left tried to drag America further into a dark future of totalitarianism, chaotic elections and cultural decay,” the report asserts in an introduction from DeMint and Meadows. “The Washington establishment, per usual, did nothing to stop them. But neither the Left nor the establishment could stop the culture and community we’re building here at the Conservative Partnership Institute.”

“With our expanded presence in D.C.,” they add, “we’re launching CPI academy — a formal program of training for congressional staff and current and future members of the movement.”

“Even if we can’t change Washington, we can create a permanent bulwark against its worst tendencies.”

A SPATE OF SALES

CPI began its expansion in 2020, purchasing the rowhouse next door to its headquarters and christening it “The Rydin House” for Mike Rydin, a construction magnate and prominent conservative donor. When Federal Investors bought the Eastern Shore property, the group named it “Camp Rydin.”

On Capitol Hill, several property owners who sold their buildings to CPI-linked companies were surprised to learn that the buyers were connected to a group led by Meadows and DeMint.

“I did not know,” said Jacqueline Lewis, who sold a townhouse on Third Street SE to 116 Holdings for $5.1 million in July. The company’s officer, according to its corporate filing, is Seward, and the principal address it lists is the same as CPI’s headquarters. A trust document related to the transaction is signed by Corrigan, CPI’s president.

Brunswick Partners, which lists CPI and Seward as contacts on its corporate filing, bought the neighboring rowhouse for $1.8 million in January, according to property records. Brian Wise, the seller, said he did not know of the company’s CPI connection. An attorney who approached him and his wife, he said, “asked if we were willing to sell and we agreed on a price. It was a business sale.”

Keith and Amanda Catanzano also were unaware of CPI when they sold a garage in the alley behind Third Street SE to Newpoint for $1 million in June. Newpoint lists Seward as an officer and the same mailing address as CPI. “We had no idea,” said a woman who answered the phone at a number listed for the Catanzanos before hanging up.

Eric Kassoff, who sold the former site of the Capitol Lounge to Clear Plains, said he knew of the company’s CPI ties before the $11.3 million deal was finalized in January. He also sold the group a carriage house behind the building for $400,000.

Kassoff said he did not want to lease the space to a fast-food restaurant or a convenience store. He said CPI’s political leanings were not a factor in his decision to sell to the organization.

“Why would I have any issue selling my property to proud Americans?” asked Kassoff, who described himself as an independent. “We need to get past the labeling and demonizing and talk to each other, and that’s true in politics as well as commerce. If we were all to take that position we wouldn’t have much of a country left, would we?”

Although the Capitol Lounge closed more than two years ago, vestiges of its past remain on the building’s exterior, including a rendering of Benjamin Franklin beneath a quote concocted by the bar’s founder, Joe Englert: “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”

James Silk, the bar’s former owner, said he left behind memorabilia when he vacated the building that could be suitable for the new owner: Richard M. Nixon campaign posters still hanging on the walls of what the owners cheekily dubbed the Nixon Room (located across from the Kennedy Room).

“Nixon is finally with his people,” Silk said. He laughed and added: “Nixon was a Republican, right?”

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p-isforpoetry · 10 months

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youtube

"When Princes And Prelates" by Robert Burns (read by Robert Carlyle)

When Princes and Prelates and het-headed zealots All Europe hae set in a lowe, The poor man lies down, nor envies a crown, And comforts himsel with a mowe.

And why shouldna poor folk mowe, mowe, mowe, And why shouldna poor folk mowe: The great folk hae siller, and houses and lands, Poor bodies hae naething but mowe. When Brunswick's great Prince cam a cruising to France Republican billies to cowe, Bauld Brunswick's great Prince wad hae shawn better sense At hame with his Princess to mowe. Out over the Rhine proud Prussia wad shine, To spend his best blood he did vow; But Frederic had better ne'er forded the water, But spent as he docht in a mowe. By sea and by shore! the Emperor swore, In Paris he'd kick up a row; But Paris saw ready just leugh at the laddie And bad him gae tak a mowe. Auld Kate laid her claws on poor Stanislaus, And Poland has bent like a bow: May the deil in her arse ram a huge prick of brass! And damn her in hell with a mowe! But truce with commotions and new-fangled notions, A bumper I trust you'll allow: Here's George our gude king and Charlotte his queen, And lang may they tak a gude mowe! And why shouldna poor folk mowe, mowe, mowe, And why shouldna poor folk mowe: The great folk hae siller, and houses and lands, Poor bodies hae naething but mowe.

Source: The works of Robert Burns - BBC

#When Princes And Prelates #Robert Burns #Robert Carlyle #poem #poetry #p-isforpoetry #audio #youtube #Youtube

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47burlm · 4 months

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Welcome to Maine the Way Life Should Be- NOT

A massive restoration effort is underway in the wake of Monday’s devastating wind and rainstorm as many Maine residents braced themselves Wednesday night to enter a fourth day without power.

Temperatures are expected to plummet Thursday, too, as the holidays draw nearer.

Although the storm had mostly cleared by late Monday evening, its effects were still being felt throughout much of the state on Wednesday, particularly in the central inland counties along the Kennebec and Androscoggin rivers, where flooding has emerged as a significant threat. Some communities evacuated low-lying neighborhoods while others dealt with stranded vehicles floating in floodwater.

Gov. Janet Mills urged Mainers to stay safe in the coming days as utilities work to restore power – more than 140,000 were still in the dark as of 9 p.m. Wednesday – and as other crews repair roads and bridges threatened by both fallen debris and floodwaters.

Additionally, 23 bridges were closed, not because of damage to the bridges themselves but to the roads leading up to them. Among the bridges that remained closed Wednesday was the busy Frank J. Wood Bridge that connects Brunswick and Topsham.

The governor said state officials prepared for Monday’s storm the same way they prepare for all major storms, but she acknowledged that its severity exceeded what even meteorologists predicted.

It is the second year in a row Maine has dealt with a major storm in the days before Christmas and it is shaping up to be one of the most destructive storms in recent memory, similar to a powerful storm in October 2017 that toppled trees across much of Maine and resulted in hundreds of thousands of outages.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Mills declared a state of civil emergency for all Maine counties except Cumberland and York, a distinction that allows her to access certain resources and apply for federal disaster relief funds.

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nbtoday · 3 months

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Middlesex County Leads NJ in Troubling Category: Crash Deaths

For the second year in a row, Middlesex County led the state in death caused by crashes, even as the numbers trended downward in the rest of the state.

NEW BRUNSWICK, NJ—For the second year in a row, Middlesex County led the state in death caused by crashes, even as the numbers trended downward in the rest of the state. Motor vehicle crashes killed 64 people here last year, despite a county government pledge two years prior to pursue a “vision” where no serious crashes occur by the year 2040. And the statistics are no better this year, with at…

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ladyimaginarium · 4 months

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hey guys uh. im&. rly not sure what's gonna happen to my& dog. for reference's sake, he's been having major allergies & nobody knows why & even when we sent vets from montreal a culture & even when we use thc+cbd for dogs nothing came of it & nobody knows the cause of it. mom & her ex bf are going w/ the dog down to new brunswick to see what they can do but like. we're running out of options. he just. keeps suffering. i had to hold him while mom put drops in his ears & cleaned out his ears. this is the sixth night in a row where we had to clean his ears & just. the howls of pain & the whimpers & the cries... i've& never heard him in so much pain.

#arcana.vents #i& wanna fucking sob #idk if he's gonna live another year & not to mention he's 11.#tw; vent

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lauvra · 4 months

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I try to speak up when I'd usually stay silent in a variety of seemingly mundane scenarios. Yesterday I picked up some groceries for a warm breakfast and when I left the store saw a car disappear down a side alley so I recalibrated my direction out of curiosity and followed the cobbled stones along eventually coming to an intersection that expanded to a length of colourful garage doors and planters. There was a woman outside watering her garden, I took off my headphones to simply say good morning when I noticed four beautiful murals painted along the cement wall of her place. As I stood complimenting them she told me a Chinese friend of hers painted them, that her name was Susie and that herself and neighbouring groups got together once a fortnight to clear the area of weeds and drink wine. Susie told me that Brunswick was the cosmic centre of the universe, and I'd had an inkling. She told me where I was, I told her where I lived and when I left I thought how wonderful it was that beyond the standard asphalt and traffic, there's a tin walled set of streets behind almost every row of homes where artistry and community flourishes quietly. As is my inclination to tint darkly, I wonder now whether this shared responsibility for tending to the surrounding veins of the community was fostered more deliberately around the time the body was found.

#me #word

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geoffrard · 1 year

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in the thursday poll war all the time is the objectively correct answer. and obviously nodev is thursday's best album. but dying in new brunswick wasnt my top song on spotify 2 years in a row for me to choose anything other than waiting

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molasses-house · 10 months

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Cigarettes and Cereal Milk

I was 12 when I started working at the Jersey Shore grocery & deli. It was old school with no air conditioning, some pinball machines and Ms. Pacman with only a counter and stools that would be filled in the morning with old men. They’d sit reading Racing Form and the Bergen Record - slugging down their coffees, smoking their cigars or cigarettes and eating the State Delicacy of Pork Roll, Egg and Cheese on a hard roll.

Ran by a fiery Italian couple from Brooklyn (or the Bronx?) and partially by their two adult children, I was initially hired to work Saturdays and Sundays to stock and stuff the then-thick Sunday newspapers with inserts: comic pages, circulars, auto, arts and classified sections that made the weekly paper as big as a Bible or the yellow pages phone book.

For me, summer and a job at the deli was jubilant. It was freedom. I’d leave for our 1950′s era seaside bungalow with my family the day school ended and hardly go back “north” (about an hour and change away from our home in North Brunswick) the whole summer. Like clockwork, every Saturday afternoon I would race down our lane of bungalows across Central Avenue to get to work and do the same at the crack of dawn on Sunday mornings.

Along with my newspaper responsibilities, I had the pleasure of refilling the coolers with cans of Coke, Tab and Dr. Pepper. I’d wipe down the pinball machines, replenish the Milky Ways, Gobstoppers and Fun Dip. I even got to venture behind the counter to restock the cigarette display cases.

Everybody smoked cigarettes or so it seems. It was the late 80’s and although the Surgeon Generals Warnings were in full effect – nobody seemed to give a shit. Cigarettes at the deli cost $1.50 a pack. I remember when a new tax was introduced that pushed them close to $2 and it was like someone canceled Christmas. Angry brows and hard scoffs abounded.

In those days – cigarette packaging and marketing was an art form. A literal science! The shiny, little packs of smokes were like works of art.

Shiny, snazzy and colorful rows of greens, beiges, reds, blues, pinks, gold, silver, and bronze with dramatic names that sounded like television soap operas or westerns or legal dramas:

Bel Air

Salems

Winstons

Benson & Hedges

Parliaments

Kent

Chesterfields

Capri

Lucky Strikes

Virgina Slims

Camel

Newport

Vantage

True Blue

Carlton

Kool

Lark

Tareyton

Marlboro (duh)

Viceroy

Merit

I was enamored. Ripping open the fresh cartons of vibrant sophistication and stacking them neatly in rows – it was like a tobacco Tetris. Seemingly, everyone smoked. The surfers, the lifeguards, the boomers, the Greatest Generation, the beach badge checkers, the cops, and the kids that also worked at the store…all puffers. My father was also a smoker. A secret smoker. The worst kept secret ever. Despite a massive heart attack that required open heart surgery at the age of 37…he couldn’t shake it. He’d have to slip away to go tend to “yardwork” and come back smelling like an ashtray and the family (me, my brother, sister and mother) would pretend to not notice the waft of smokey perfume that he’d come back into the house with…for decades!

I don’t remember when I picked up the habit definitively but it was between middle school (8th grade) and high school (9th grade). Eerily, I mimicked the actions of my dad. Stashing packs of cigarettes deep within drawers or in my little lockbox adorned with childish stickers. I’d keep handy a bottle of cologne (probably Drakkar Noir or some ilk of it’s day) and whisk outside the minute the parents left the house and crouch down outside against the side of the house near the BBQ grill to fume a Marlboro.

I was in my early teens but looked like a contradiction…tall, superskinny and blonde but self-consciously young for my age. How did I purchase these vile decks of cancer sticks? It was shamefully easy. In those days, there was no legal age to buy them. During the off-season and away from the seaside store, I could hop on my bike and ride to any number of convenience stores in the area of my “northern” home. For $2 (and change as the prices rose higher), I could satisfy my physical and mental cravings usually without a hitch.

If the purveyor did have some tinge of guilt serving cigarettes to a pubescent-ish Ricky Schroeder lookalike…I had a cover story in my back pocket:

“My grandmother (or aunt or step-sister) hurt her legs and can’t get around real well, kind sir” was a standard lie. If I was really organized, I’d have a friend waiting by their landline telephone to pretend to be said relative and say to the clerk, “She said you can call her.” 99.9% of the time that worked like a charm and only once did a phone call actually get made and “Kim” – an older girl by a couple of years magically performed the part of the ailing kin.

Freshman year of high school, I took the bus – having not yet made friends with anyone with a drivers license. The bus would pick me up on the back street parallel to mine. I’d wake up (usually with a teenage attitude fueled by nicotine withdrawal) and eat some breakfast before the bus. In order NOT to miss my ride, I had the timing down like a Swiss watch maker.

Breakfast consisted of a Benadryl (allergies), a cup of coffee (light and sweet – and yes the Stankovits kids were all early coffee drinkers…) and usually some cereal. We weren’t allowed real sugary cereals so we had to “settle” for Rick Krispies, Chex or Raisin Bran and the occasional Cap’N’Crunch. Depending on the sugar content, I’d pour the milk over the cereal and dollop a spoonful of sugar in the bowl. After the crackles of crispy rice or soggy lumps of bran were consumed, there was the sweet reward of the leftover cereal milk. It was like breakfast’s dessert.

I’d slurp that down and head out the door, towards the end of our dead-end street where there was and still is a section of woods where I could cut through to the next street where the bus would pick me up.

Lighting up, I would get my fix and mentally prepare for the day ahead standing in the woods next to the wooden fence that captured the backyard of the last house on our block. It was meditative. Who the hell knows what I was thinking about…”Algebra quiz! Fall Dance! Fuck, am I queer? I can’t wait to drive and get the hell out of here?!”

The bus would come and I’d hop on with a waft of smokey aroma and cheap cologne enshrining me like Pig Pen from Peanuts. Usually, a pack would last a week or more. I’d check my pack to see how many cigarettes I had left before I had to begin another hunt…hiding away my Marlboros in my duffle bag (those were in style...) until the last school bell rang…ready to repeat another day. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

#dontsmoke creativewriting personalessay summerjobs 80s 90s cerealmilk

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crowmagus · 2 years

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RANGER, Chapter 1

Beginning | Previous | Next

Allen Blue grew up in a small suburb just outside of Brunswick, Maine, in the United States of America. He was a middle child, trapped between the quiet intelligence of his older sister Misty, and the charismatic bravado of his younger brother Red.

Allen excelled at little in his life, but had a small group of friends who he cherished as dearly as he thought he should, and a career in imported meat packing which paid his bills and provided him with one and a half weeks of vacation time which he never took, but always thought about.

At the age of 35, Allen met a woman who would be his third girlfriend, and after one and a half years of symbiosis with this woman they became married to each other.

The ceremony was small, comprised of Allen, his spouse Allegra June, and both groups of four close friends, totaling in ten attendants. The invitations to Allegra and Allen’s parents had both been lost in the mail, and the couple was too self-conscious to send a second set or call about the event. The wedding and the honeymoon took place on a Saturday and a Sunday, because Allen and Allegra both had important meetings regarding the shortage of Wagyu (a deluxe Japanese beef) on Monday.

Allen and Allegra both kept their surnames, and when their daughter Foggy (named in honor of Misty, who had committed suicide two summers ago) was born they decided to pass to her the hyphenated last name of Blue-June.

Both of the new parents were older than they thought they’d be when they had children, and now being forty-six at the time of their daughter’s birth, and each leading a sedentary lifestyle with a carnivorous diet they found themselves unable to provide the energy that the new child seemed to demand from them.

Instead of taking up jogging or introducing microgreens into their meals they decided to focus on turning their child Foggy into an avatar of the meat packing industry.

Foggy’s toys were plush replicas of various cuts of pork, beef, and poultry. Her nursery was themed after a walk in freezer (flaps and all). The parents even brought the toddler with them to the conferences they both attended.

On Foggy’s first birthday, she spoke her first word in the first row of an auditorium during an impassioned speech about the diseases that can be imparted by improper meat packing. The speaker had just finished, and Foggy babbled “Egolie” (E.coli), much to the joy of her parents.

On Foggy’s sixth birthday her parents put together a party at a slaughterhouse for her, where each child was granted the opportunity to operate the captive-bolt gun to stun the cattle, before they were bled out and ultimately slaughtered.

This party was a big hit with the kids, and was directly responsible for Foggy’s popularity in the next 12 years of her life.

Throughout middle school and highschool Foggy achieved average grades, but focused primarily on her extended education in the meatpacking industry. While labor laws prevented her from actually working in the field, her parents instead devised a ‘Bonus Allowance’ that she received for time spent in slaughterhouses, warehouses, and freezers. Foggy didn’t need a financial incentive to do these things, but she didn’t mind the extra cash.

After graduating highschool, Foggy Blue-June took a gap year in Japan to study the meatpacking scene abroad. It was during this time, in the year 2020, that an object from outside of our solar system struck the United States, Europe, and North Africa.

In the chaos that followed, 90% of the United States population, and 14% of the rest of the world’s population died. The meat packing industry was dealt a near-fatal blow, and Foggy’s life took a drastic turn.

#RANGER #worldbuilding #novel #writing #creative writing #original character #science fiction #narration #fiction #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #stalker #comedy #world building

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gogmstuff · 2 years

Photo

It’s now 1767 -

Top: 1767 Marquise de Caumont La Force by François Hubert Drouais (Ball State University - Muncie, Indiana, USA). From their Web site 1466X1806 @72 3.1Mp.

Second row left: ca. 1767 Lady Elizabeth Montagu, Duchess of Buccleuch and Queensberry by Thomas Gainsborough (Boughton House - GeddNorthamptonshire, UK). From cutlermiles.com/portrait-of-lady-elizabeth-montagu-duchess-of-buccleuch-and-queensberry-thomas-gainsborough/. 1440X1764 @144 2.6Mp.

Second row right: 1767 Lady Mary Fox wearing a Brunswick by Pompeo Batoni (location ?). From Wikimedia; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 722X1010 @150 672kj.

Third row: 1767 Princess Louisa and Princess Caroline by Francis Cotes (Royal Collection). From Wikimedia 1033X1500 @28pixels/cm 407kj.

Fourth row left: ca. 1767 Lady Alston wearing a robe à la française by Thomas Gainsborough (auctioned by Sotheby's). From Wikimedia; fixed spots and flaws with Photoshop 1633X2000 @180 1.2Mj.

Fourth row right: 1767 Cecilia de Clercq by Tibout Regters (location ?). From liveinternet.ru/users/4853296/post435796664/ 1225X1920 @72 594kj.

Fifth row: 1767 Augusta Friederike Hannover by Angelica Kauffman (Royal Collection). From Wikimedia 927X1500 @72 370kj.

Sixth row left: 1767 Princess Louisa of Great Britain (Royal Collection). From Wikimedia; removed linear flaws with Photoshop 1240X1500 @198 623kj.

Sixth row right: ca. 1767 Izabela Lubomirska by Per Krafft the Elder after Alexander Roslin (Pałac Na Wyspie - Warszawa, Poland). From Wikimedia 1564X1970 @96 790kj.

Seventh row: 1767 Archduchess Maria Josefa by Anton Rafael Mengs (Museo Nacional del Prado - Madrid, Spain). From liveinternet.ru/users/marylai/post292168318 2004X2709 @300 2.1Mj.

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karhina03 · 2 years

Photo

Started this bit of Swiss darning at the Zero Waste Festival on Saturday but was so busy I only managed 2 rows. So time to enjoy the sunshine and get on with it 🪡🧵🪡 #fashionfix #darn #visiblemending #patch #slowstitch #repair #mend #mendingmayhem #mendit #sustainablefashion repairit #darningworkshop #zerowaste #visiblemending #donttossit #zwvstylemend #swissdarning (at Brunswick, Victoria) https://www.instagram.com/p/Citzh6xvA1S/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#fashionfix #darn #visiblemending #patch #slowstitch #repair #mend #mendingmayhem #mendit #sustainablefashion #darningworkshop #zerowaste #donttossit #zwvstylemend #swissdarning

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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For the second year in a row, North Carolina's state Senate is poised to pass legislation that would legalize medical marijuana.

• Backed by one of the most senior and powerful members of the chamber, the bill is expected to clear that first major hurdle with relative ease within the next week.

Driving The News: Once that happens, all eyes — and pressure — will be on the House, where the legislation stalled in last year's short session.

• The bill, dubbed the Compassionate Care Act, may have better odds this year.

• A growing number of House Republicans are throwing their weight behind the legislation, some political observers say, in part because of the bill's key sponsor's willingness to share his own experience with debilitating illnesses.

Why It Matters: If the legislation makes it across the finish line, the state would be the 38th to legalize medicinal cannabis, making it accessible to North Carolinians suffering from a narrow list of ailments, including cancer, epilepsy and PTSD.

Details: The proposal includes restrictions on medical marijuana that would be among the tightest in the country, bill sponsors say.

• "In addition to providing support to those who are suffering from debilitating conditions, we also want to protect the general public and that's why you see the processes in place," said one bill sponsor, Republican state Sen. Michael Lee.

Between the Lines: Among the factors driving House Republicans' shift is the bill sponsor himself: Senate Rules chairman Sen. Bill Rabon of Brunswick County, who's been crafting the legislation for the better part of the last decade.

• Rabon first introduced the legislation last year and has since championed it by sharing that cannabis could have helped him through a nearly deadly battle with cancer decades ago.

"Bill Rabon is the heavyweight — there are a number of lobbyists — but honestly my respect for Rabon probably carries the most weight with me," one top House Republican, Rep. Jason Saine, told Axios.

Another factor in the growing support in the House for the legislation, Saine said, is time.

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zponds · 1 year

Text

Yesterday, I made the post going over the backstory of the three P Motors from the New York Central. Now since I made three New York Central posts in a row, I thought I’d take a little break from that and make some Pennsylvania Railroad posts going over the new additional engines to my roster of TTTE OCs from the Pennsylvania Railroad. Now this post will go over the backstory of the first batch of new TTTE OCs of mine from the Pennsylvania Railroad, which are four GG1s, and these four GG1s are…

Glenn - brunswick green 5-stripe #4927

Gracie - tuscan red 5-stripe #4877

Garrison - brunswick green #4919

Gaby - tuscan red #4913

After the Pennsylvania Railroad built and electrified the Northeast Corridor, they needed electric locomotives to pull trains in the newly electrified lines of the Northeast Corridor. So they turned to General Electric for a new locomotive. And in 1934, they produced and brought out 15 GG1s, which were given a striking Art Deco shell. They were successful and the Penney’s Altoona Works made 124 more GG1. That brought the total to 139 GG1s. Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby were among the GG1s from the Altoona Works, and they were very eager to help their siblings in pulling passengers across the electrified lines of the Northeast Corridor.

Glenn and Grace often took turns to pull the Broadway Limited when it was under electrified lines, while Torpedo, the streamlined K4 #3768, pulled the Broadway Limited the rest of the way to and from Chicago. When the United States entered World War II following Japan’s surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, every railroad, including the Pennsylvania Railroad, underwent heavier and busier wartime traffic. Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby helped their siblings in the wartime traffic, pulling long trains full of troops, sailors, engineers, pilots and gunners to New York City where they get in ships and go to Europe to fight the Nazis. In April 1945, Glenn and Gracie doubleheaded and hauled the funeral train of U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt from Washington Union Station to New York Pennsylvania Station.

After World War II ended in September 1945, the railroad traffic cooled down. After GG1 #4876 crashed into Washington Union Station in Washington D.C. on January 15, 1953, Gracie took charge of the Federal Express. And a couple of days later, on January 17th, Gracie, along Glenn, Garrison, Gaby, and their siblings pulled trains full of people wanting to participate in the inauguration of newly-elected President Dwight D. Eisenhower. By the mid-1950s, more and more people began abandoning railroads in favor of highways and airlines, which lead to passenger train service to decline. Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby were a little confused but very alienated by these changes. Due to the declining passenger train services, GG1s 4801 - 4857 were re-geared for freight service, much to their annoyance but they reluctantly agreed to take on freight service. Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby, and the rest of the GG1s remained as passenger service GG1s.

By 1968, with more and more people and freight moving to highways and airlines, the Pennsylvania Railroad reluctantly merged with its ancient rival: the New York Central System… out of desperation to survive. Glenn, Gracie, Garrison and Gaby, along with a few of their siblings, kept their Pennsylvania Railroad liveries, patterns, paint and lettering while the rest of the GG1s were repainted into Penn Central black and received Penn Central lettering. They all did their best to help the Penn Central, and after New Haven was merged into Penn Central in 1969, the struggle to stay alive only got worse. By 1970, the Penn Central gave in and declared bankruptcy, which marked the end of the golden age of American railroading. This lead to Glenn, Gracie, Garrison and Gaby to blame the public for betraying railroads, though they knew better than to said this out loud.

When Amtrak was formed in 1971, Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, Gaby and most of their siblings went to Amtrak. And Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby still kept their Pennsylvania Railroad liveries, patterns, paint, and lettering while their siblings were repainted into Amtrak black or Amtrak red-gray-blue. But by the late 1970s the GG1s were beginning to show their age, so Amtrak looked into replacing them with newer electric locomotives. The thought of being replaced sent chills down the frames of the GG1s, but Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby were the only GG1s to be rebuilt which allowed them to last longer in service. As newer General Electric E60s began side-lining the rest of the GG1s, Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby said their final goodbyes to their siblings.

By the 1980s, AEM-7 electric locomotives showed up on Amtrak’s roster, and Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby became mentors to the new and young AEM-7s. By 1983, Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby became the ONLY GG1s remaining in service after the rest of the GG1s were officially retired. Also around this time, Amtrak found and restored a huge number of Pennsylvania Railroad passenger cars, and Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby were given these PRR coaches and have always pulled them to this very day. When the Chase Maryland Collision occurred on January 4th, 1987, Glenn and Gracie helped bring rescuers, firemen, rescue equipment, and medical equipment to the crash site by train. The two GG1s were praised for their huge help. However, after the Chase Maryland Collision, Amtrak replaced the Pennsylvania Railroad-style amber signals with color-coded position signals (with the Keystone Corridor keeping the PRR-style amber signals), the four GG1s had a tricky time adjusting to the new signals as they worked with amber signals their whole lives since the early 1930s. By late 1989, they soon got the hang of it. By 1996, the four GG1 participated in the 150th anniversary of the founding of the Pennsylvania Railroad, which was formed in 1846. Even though the Pennsylvania Railroad was no longer around after the Penn Central merger and bankruptcy, the 150th anniversary of the PRR’s founding was still very big and special, especially for rail fans and those who once worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad back in the golden days of American railroading.

And to this very day, Glenn, Gracie, Garrison, and Gaby pull trains of Pennsylvania Railroad passenger cars along the Northeast Corridor, not only bringing passengers to their destinations, but to also keep the memory, legacy and spirit of the Pennsylvania Railroad alive.

And so, that’s the story of the four GG1s. I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and the next post will go over the two PRR J1a steam locomotives, so stay tuned for that.

#pennsylvania railroad #prr #gg1 #electric locomotive #electric engine #train #trains #railroad #railroads #rail #rails #ttte oc #ttte #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #penn central #amtrak #history

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