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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 3,960)

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Part Ten: Wilbur II

Wilbur wakes the morning of the election as President of L’Manberg, and he ends the evening of the election as President of L’Manberg, voted back into office by due democratic process.

There are things in between, of course. He reads out the results for all the SMP members to hear, as well as for those who have been following the event from different servers. He makes a speech, promises protection and safety for his citizens, promises renewed growth and prosperity and above all else, freedom from tyranny. He makes a good case for it all, he’s fairly sure, though he forgets the words that he speaks as soon as he leaves his podium.

There’s a bit of a celebration, after. Impromptu, unplanned, but those are the best kind. They all pitch in, scrounge up food and drink and games to play for when they get a bit tipsy, and it’s good.

He smiles through it.

He smiles when Tubbo claps him on the back, hooting and hollering. He smiles when Niki runs up to him and throws her arms around him in an embrace, even though she was running against him. He smiles when Eret sidles up to him, murmuring congratulations and briefly pressing his hand. He even smiles when a few citizens of the Greater SMP come to join in, Sapnap and Punz and Ponk and Karl. He smiles and smiles and smiles, and why shouldn’t he smile?

This is what he wanted. To know that his people continue to have faith in him, that they still believe him best for the job. To hold on to power, but to do it the right way. To be given full permission to assure the safety and freedom of those he loves, and the land that he has made.

The smile only slips twice.

Once: meeting Fundy’s eyes across the way. Fundy breaks his gaze just as quickly, glancing to the side, and he doesn’t come to speak with him. He’s not sure what to do about that. He’s not so blind as to not notice the tension that’s sprung into place between them lately, though he still can’t ascertain its origin. And it’s only gotten worse now, of course—but what did Fundy expect, that he would just let him commit voter fraud? He’s disappointed in his actions, and he can’t disguise that. Shouldn’t have to disguise that, because Fundy ought to know that wasn’t the right thing to do. But that means that his son steers clear of him. And he’ll admit that it hurts. Both for that, and for the fact that Fundy would do such a thing in the first place.

So the smile slips, when no one is looking.

But that is once, and twice comes now: Tommy bounding up to him, grin bright and wild, eyes shining with a light that he hasn’t seen there in—too long. Far, far too long. That light has been present all day, ever since he stepped up to the podium and announced the results, and Tommy let out a whoop and a holler and pumped his fist into the air like he was trying to punch the daylight from the sky, and it was so very Tommy that in that moment, he could feel nothing but relief. In general, Tommy’s seemed very relaxed. Celebratory, jubilant. As he should be.

And now, here he is, beaming, staring him in the face, gripping his arms. Eyes shining.

“How we feeling, big man?” he asks, loud and carefree, and it’s obvious from the way that he asks that he expects a certain kind of answer. Wilbur is more than happy to give it to him. He reaches out to ruffle his hair, and Tommy ducks away, but even that scowl doesn’t last for long.

“I’m on top of the world,” he says, and feels his own smile widen. For the first time in a while, he can look at Tommy and not feel pressing worry, not feel a tightness in his chest and a certainty in his bones that something is very, very wrong, that something has happened, and that in some way, he has failed. “We fucking did it, man.”

“We sure fucking did!” Tommy crows. “You and me, best fucking—best fucking day ever. We’re gonna make sure that L’Manberg’s the best country in the literal history of everything. And you’ll be the best president.”

“Of course I will,” he says. “That’s why they’ve elected me.”

Tommy nods sagely. Still grinning. Still bright-eyed. “It’s all going to be alright,” he says, voice lowering just a little. He sounds so very sincere. “Everything’s actually gonna be alright. You’re gonna do so great. You’re gonna do great, right?”

Of course he will. He will not settle for anything less. This duty has been entrusted to him once again, and he will not let his city fail, nor his people fall. He is the one they look to. He built this nation, and he must protect it. He will be great. He has more than just his own hopes riding on his back, and anything less than greatness is unacceptable, both for his own sake and for that of everyone else, for his own legacy and for the seeds planted in the present.

“We’re gonna do great,” he says. “You and I, and all of us.”

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, and glances around him, at the celebration, still under full swing. Quackity has somehow obtained a stripper pole, and both Karl and Sapnap are looking on in great interest as he displays his talents in that area. Wilbur finds himself watching for a moment too long before tearing his gaze away. But Tommy doesn’t pay mind to any of that—which is good, because he is a child, a little baby man, and maybe he should go over to Quackity and talk about him toning it down, actually, while the minors are here—and instead brings his focus back around to him again.

“They all love you man, y’know?” Tommy says, voice going softer still. He finds his own expression gentling to match.

“They love this,” he agrees. “They love L’Manberg.”

“Because what’s not to love?” Tommy says, nodding in satisfaction. “Really, though, man. You’re gonna be alright. You’re gonna do great. No reason to worry about anything, y’know?”

“Okay, that’s a little concerning, coming from you,” he says. “Are there any shenanigans I should know about?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says, swatting at his arm. “I’m gonna go find where Tubbo got off to. But just, have a good night, yeah, Wil? You’ve really earned it. Future’s looking up.”

“I will,” he says. “And you too, Tommy, you’ve earned this just as much as I have. Maybe even more. Go have fun.” He pauses. “And if there do happen to be any shenanigans, let me know, would you? It’s been a while since I took part in any good old-fashioned shenanigans.”

Tommy casts him one last grin, brilliant as any sunrise he’s seen. And then, he’s off, weaving through everyone else. It’s good, that he’s happy. It’s been so long since he’s seemed truly happy. It gives Wilbur hope. Whatever damage was done to him that night, when he chose to give up his discs, maybe he really will bounce back. And he’s noticed that he and Tubbo have been closer again, so maybe that will help, too. Tommy will be okay.

Then, a wave of exhaustion hits him, apparently out of nowhere, and his smile slips.

He brings it up again in the next moment. But the fatigue remains—and he supposes it makes sense. It’s been a long, rather stressful day. Perhaps it’s time he turned it in.

Niki’s the first one he finds, and she smiles at his approach. There is still an air of tension about her—lingering frustration, he imagines, at the stunt Fundy tried to pull. He believes her when she says she was unaware. But she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him, thank goodness, because he bears her no ill will for the incident. Or even Fundy—he is disappointed to be sure, but he doesn’t love his son any less. Nothing at all could make that happen. Perhaps he ought to make sure Fundy knows that.

Later, though. When they’ve both cooled down a bit.

“Hey, Wil,” she says. “Good party, huh?”

“It is,” he says. “I’m sort of beat, though, so I think I might go hit the hay, as it were. Just wanted to tell someone before I left, in case anyone wondered.”

“Okay,” she says, and her eyes pinch around the edges a little bit. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She nods. “It’s been a long day,” she says, echoing his thoughts. “I’ll let everyone know, if they ask.” Her smile returns, full force, and she steps forward and takes his hand in hers. “Really, though, congratulations. I’m really proud of you. Anyone can see how much you care about this place, and that’s why they want you to keep leading it.”

His mouth has, unaccountably, gone slightly dry. “I do care,” he says. “But we all do. I mean, you literally made our flag. I don’t think I’ve told you enough how cool that is.”

“I wanted to,” she says simply, though she’s obviously pleased. “You don’t have to thank me for it. Every country should have a flag.”

“And every country should have someone who cares enough to sew it,” he says. “I’m glad it was you.”

“And I’m glad that this is you,” Niki replies, making a gesture toward the festivities around them, and the empty stage over to the side. Her eyes sharpen. “Even if I kind of wanted to be vice president. But you’re a good leader, Wilbur, and you’re a good man. A good friend. You deserve this. So go get some sleep, alright? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting, and she rolls her eyes, pushing him away.

“Go on,” she insists, but there is laughter in her voice and a crinkle at the corners of her eyes, and she looks happy, too. Everyone looks very happy. Even Fundy seems to be involved in things by now, and Quackity, his fiercest competition, appears to be enjoying himself.

Everyone is happy. So is he. There’s no reason at all for him not to be.

He tells himself that he’s going to go get some sleep, but his feet take him back to his office, instead. It’s empty, cast in a dim haze until he switches on the light, and just like that, the darkness is gone. His eyes flit across his desk, his chair, his shelves, all the paperwork that he’s definitely going to have to deal with, now that he knows for sure that he will continue to lead. He also has a potted plant, though he can’t quite recall who gave it to him. Might have been Tubbo, but he’s not sure.

He doesn’t sit. He goes to the window, presses himself up against it close enough to see the outside rather than his own reflection in the glass. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the country before him, and the walls are looming giants in the deepening night. He can see the cluster of lights where the others are, too, and he can see their dancing shadows, glimpses of their faces, far away echoes of their laughter.

Maybe he ought to go back. Some part of him wants to. He’s not sure why he’s holding himself away.

It’s probably because he’s tired. Because he is. Tired. Very tired.

It has been a long day.

He watches for a moment longer, and then closes his curtains, shutting out the world beyond this room. He turns to his desk, then, and his paperwork, though he’s loath to actually work on anything tonight, despite the fact that there’s a million things he could be doing. Drafting a formal missive to Dream, for instance, in light of his official election to power. Ensuring continued good standings between their nations—because as little as he likes the man, he’s not going to provoke him again, if it can be helped.

Especially not with Tommy—the way that he is. Not until he’s gotten to the bottom of that, and probably not even after.

So, he should write to Dream. He should also write to Phil. Tell him about what’s been going on. He’s been considering asking for advice on the whole Tommy situation, actually—Phil’s old as balls, so maybe he might know what to do, or even what this could be about. It’s a long shot, of course, but it’s worth a try.

Except he doesn’t particularly want to do either of those things. Not at the moment. But then, that doesn’t leave him with a whole lot of options, so why did he come here in the first place if he didn’t intend to do something? He ought to go to bed, like he said he would.

But then—

“Hey, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and he looks up, blinking. Quackity’s leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. Somewhere along the line, he’s regained his clothes. “Knock, knock.”

“Quackity,” he says. “Good to see you. Here, come in, pull up a chair.”

Quackity quirks a brow, but that seems to be all the invitation he needs. He all but saunters in, grabbing one of the chairs and tugging it right up against the desk.

“I actually did want to speak with you at some point,” he continues.

“Then this works out, doesn’t it?” Quackity says. “I had the same idea. I figured we should clear the air or something like that. If it even needs clearing, I dunno. What do you think?”

“It certainly can’t hurt to talk,” he agrees.

“Right,” Quackity says. “Well, I guess I should start off by saying good job. Congrats on winning.” He smiles, and there’s something sharp in it, something of a challenge. Wilbur can’t say that he hates it; it’s good to be challenged, every now and then. And now, there’s less danger in it, his position secure. “Though I really gave you a run for your money, didn’t I? And Jack, of course.”

Jack’s name is added as an afterthought. He’s always had the impression that Quackity would rather have picked someone else for his running mate. But he left it fairly late, and by the time he decided that he definitely wanted one, there weren’t many people left to choose from. Tubbo wouldn’t have joined him, and Eret stayed out of the whole affair, and in terms of L’Manberg citizens, that pretty much just left Jack Manifold.

He wonders who Quackity would have chosen, if he’d had free reign of the SMP. Somehow, he’s glad that didn’t happen. Good foresight, on Tommy’s part, to add that restriction. And a good idea in general, too.

“You did,” he says with a nod. “It was a good showing. You were the one I was worried about, to be honest with you. If anyone could have beaten me, it would have been you.”

“You’re damn right,” Quackity answers. “We got close. But no cigar, I guess. There’s always next time.”

Next time. Next time.

Right. Elections are a fairly regular thing. He’ll have to do this again.

Right, no, that’s—fine. It’s fine. And it wouldn’t be for a while yet, so he doesn’t even have to think about it right now.

“But I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us,” Quackity says. He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that only two legs rest on the floor, and he regards him. “I mean, I meant what I said on the campaign trail, and I still stand by it. I don’t know that you’re taking this country in the best direction, Wilbur. I don’t know that it’s not gonna—stagnate, under you, or that Dream won’t come up and declare war again. I meant all of that. But it’s not like I don’t like you as a person, and you’ve won fair and square, so I was hoping we could put our differences behind us. Let bygones be bygones and all that.”

He’s heard everything that Quackity has to say on the matter of his leadership, and hearing it all again is a bit—irritating. But the honesty is refreshing, was then and still is now, and he’d rather these things be said to his face than whispered behind his back.

And also, there’s the fact that it’s Quackity. It was Tommy who convinced him to let him join in the first place, but the man’s grown on him, he’ll confess.

“I would have trusted you to lead,” he admits, and meets Quackity’s gaze squarely. “I disagree with you on quite a few matters, but I believe that you have L’Manberg’s best interests at heart. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s all water under the bridge.”

He speaks nothing but the truth. Quackity is—not precisely the vision he has in mind for L’Manberg’s future. But he cares about this place, that much is obvious. So if Quackity had won, he would have bowed out gracefully, would have established himself some property and entered a graceful retirement, at—at peace. Surely at peace, all of his questions answered and his guidance unneeded. His person no longer required.

His stomach turns, a gut-churning combination of longing and revulsion flooding him, impacting him so intensely that it’s a half-second scramble to make sure that none of it shows on his face, to lock everything back down again, to be interpreted later or forgotten about, depending on his mood.

“That’s great to hear,” Quackity says. “Friends?”

Quackity sticks out his hand.

“Friends,” he agrees, and takes it.

“Fantastic,” Quackity says. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures broadly, lips twitching upward. “Niki said you were gonna get some sleep, so I’d do that before she finds out you’re not.”

He can’t help but laugh, and Quackity stands. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he says. “Good night, Quackity.”

“Night, Wilbur,” Quackity says, and turns to go. But then, he stops in the doorway, looking back. “I just gotta ask, though, why all of this? Why have an election at all? Why risk losing? If you wanted to stay in charge, why not just stay in charge? No one would’ve questioned you, but instead, you put on all of this. Just to keep a position you ended up keeping anyway.”

Ah. His mind blanks for a moment, because he doesn’t know how to describe to Quackity the fact that people were already questioning him, if he didn’t pick up on that. But surely, he must have; Quackity himself built his entire campaign around questioning him. His right to lead, his capability, his intentions. And those sentiments could not have come from nowhere.

To be honest, he’s not certain that he has the words to explain it to himself, either.

“I could ask the same of you,” he says, “in regards to your running.”

Quackity stands there for a moment. And then tilts his head.

“I think we both know the answer to that, Wilbur,” he says, and his next smile is a wry thing. “See you tomorrow.”

And then, he’s gone.

And Wilbur does know.

He is not blind to Quackity’s desire for power. His desire to do something good with it, to be sure—he’s never caught any malice in his seeking. But what he seeks is power, and there is no mistaking that. Sometimes, Wilbur looks in his eyes and sees a reflection of himself. Paler, different, slanted, but a reflection nonetheless. He has heard the siren’s call of ambition and heard it well, and he recognizes that in Quackity, and Quackity recognizes it in him.

But it’s not just about power. Not for him, anyway. Or rather, it is power, to be sure, but it’s the power to keep safe. To protect. To be free. And to build something great, something that will outlive him, something that will make him worthy of the looks in people’s eyes when they meet his. That’s what it was about. And that’s why the election mattered.

Though for a moment, he lets himself picture it: retirement. A house, with plenty of room. Time to spare, for everyone and everything. A guitar, finally tuned again. A warm summer’s day, and a crisp autumn’s evening. No pressure, few responsibilities, and an hour or several to sit under his own vine and fig tree.

But he doesn’t think he’s made for things like that, really.

And even besides, these idle speculations don’t matter. Quackity didn’t win, and he remains president of this nation. There will be no quiet retirement, not yet. There is so much work that he has to do, and he can feel all those future tasks piling on his shoulders, weights stacking on his skin, clinging like barnacles on a weathered, abandoned pier.

And it’s all alright, because it’s what he wants.

Without this, where would he stand? With himself, and with the others? They all look to him for a reason, so what would happen if that reason were gone?

No. Best not to let his mind wander down that path.

His ambitions are realized. The elections are over. His people are happy, and they still want him. They still believe he can do right by them. They are celebrating his victory even now. Tommy was smiling, and there was none of that strange, terrifying darkness in his gaze.

He has everything he wants.

He checks his communicator, idly. There’s a few messages from people on the server, those who aren’t at the party. Most are congratulatory. There’s Dream, asking for a meeting already, but he anticipated that. There’s even a few messages from people off-world, and he raises an eyebrow at those—inter-server communication costs a pretty penny, so he’s a bit surprised that Technoblade put the effort in to send a message that just says lame. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. And Schlatt’s sent him some snarky congratulations, and he supposes he should answer him, since he went through the trouble. Though he’s not going to invite him, still, no matter how nice it might be to catch up. Not until he figures out what Tommy’s problem with him is, and whether it’s solvable.

But he types out a response to both, a quick Like you can talk, Potato Man to Techno and something a bit longer and properly sarcastic to Schlatt, wincing at the cost of shooting the messages through the void, across worlds, and then sets his communicator to the side. Stares at his desk, then at the covered window. He can still hear them.

He stopped smiling at some point. He doesn’t know when.

He picks up his pen, then sets it back down again. Drags a paper closer with his index finger, and then pushes it back. Slips his hand into his pocket to find his glasses, and then brings it out again, empty of everything but dust.

There’s work to do, and he should either get started or he should go to sleep, but his brain doesn’t seem to want to get the memo. So he sits.

He’s tired. That’s why he’s in this kind of mood. He’s tired, so he’ll just sit here until he feels ready to get some true rest, and it’ll all look better in the morning. Not that it doesn’t look good now.

But he is very tired.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #quackity #nihachu #dsmp fic #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #if this fic were divided into acts #this would mark the end of act 1 :)

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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Other possible Holocausts: why pro-lifers are lying to us, and why thats a good thing

…

Ive had a running argument over the past few years that the raw lack of anti-abortion terrorist action proves no one really thinks abortion is murder, ie. intentional 1st degree murder of a life equal to yours or mine.

Ive always gotten pushback to quote WillyWang:

The "revealed preference" of those that oppose abortion but don't firebomb clinics and kill doctors? It won't help, you'll be made an example of in the negative sense, and civilized norms are more important than a useless symbolic point. One clinic destroyed won't end abortion, after all.

From which this Effort-post got its Genesis:

Would you say the same about those who participated in the french resistance or Warsaw Ghetto rising to Nazi Germany?

Everyone of those claims applies there: they were likely to be made examples of, they were damaging civilized norms, and any given action had relatively little to no impact.

Yet the same people who insist abortion is murder, and thus that America is committing a holocaust, yet denounce any of the people who employed violence against abortion doctors or clinics, and can’t distance themselves fast enough from any call for violence... none of those people apply the same logic to the first holocaust. None of them say the frenchmen who bombed german police stations where dangerous terrorists who deserved their executions, none of them denounce the Warsaw ghetto rising as an attack on civilization.

…

If anti-abortion advocated genuinely believed a fetus was a equivalent human life to yours or mine or the little kids they see walk to school, and that this was an ongoing holocaust of American Children at a scale possibly 10x or more what was done to the jews... they wouldn’t need to come up with ad hoc reasons why they don’t resort to violence, their mind would be screaming at them to take bloody vengeance 24/7 in righteous outrage, demanding that oceans of blood and fire be unleashed that it might wash clean the horror, that nuclear fire would be be an acceptable emergency shut off to end such wanton and cruel slaughter... and if thinking through all the logic they concluded that no violence wouldn’t help and they must pursue some peaceful negotiation to stop the slaughter, then their minds recoil and call themselves cowards and the moment of coming to that conclusion would be an ongoing trauma they’d carry with them for the rest of their life, even if they knew they were 100% right. They would meet the “pro-choice” and barely be able to conceal their desire to see them dead or imprisoned... they would meet women who had had abortions and scream bloody murder at them and tell them they deserve the death penalty, the way many of the same people react when presented with women who’d murdered their children, but after their children had left the womb.

The people who were jailed for assassinating abortionists, or fire-bombing clinics would be folk heroes lionized in songs and crowd funded hagiographic documentaries and folk traditions, like John Brown, or John Wilkes Booth, or Louis Reil, or Saco and Vancety, or Huey Newton, or Malcolm X, or David Koresh, or Levoy Finecolm... or hell even just Jesse James, or Killdozer.

Americans abort on average 1 million plus babies a year... that means if abortion is murder and those are human lives, then the 50 years since Roe vs.Wade has been a worse crime than the holocaust, slavery, or the crimes of Stalin, and we’d have to consult a historian to see if they were worse than Mao (on a per capita basis, certainly)...

This would be the worse crime ever commited, the greatest mass slaughter ever perpetrated in human history, and 50 years later our society would remain committed to repeating it in the next 50 years.

If that does not demand violence, then nothing in human history ever has, no even defensive war has ever been justified, and only Jainists and Jehovah’s witnesses are morally acceptable actors. An extreme unexceedable pascifism we know the vast majority of anti-abortion advocates do not endorse, since they overwhelming supported or at-least did not conspicuously oppose the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan (over a mere 3000 Americans dead, and a less than a years abortions worth of Iraqis killed by Saddam) and continue to conspicuously “Support our troops” troops that exist to carry out violence, despite their moral commitments saying they can apparently never in human history be justified.

When i say this proves “Pro-lifers” clearly do not believe a fetus is an equal human life, thats me being incredibly charitable. That is me extending a overwhelming large olive branch, that is me expressing a stupendous care and concern and sympathy and brotherly love to rival the best 19th century dinner host, the dearest of friends, a benevolent older sibling, a lover, a parent, a mother who on hearing the taped confession of her son to serial murder, doesn’t hesitate once before screaming “you monsters you’ve drugged and tortured him! What threats have you made to my grandchild! He would only say such things to save his daughter’s life!”

My claiming they are full of shit and lying to themselves, to you, and to me, is an expression of love and faith in my fellow man which until now I did not realized I possessed nor was capable of...

Because if I merely took them at their word? If I believed that they believed what they say they believe? They would be monsters.

Lets play a game called “Other Possible Holocausts”. Approximately 800,000 babies where aborted this year.

Lets imagine the US government has just announced that crime has gotten to cumbersome and that over the next 3 years it plans to execute every single one of the 2.4 million people in US prisons jails and Jeuvenile detention centres.

Lets imagine that to reform education, the US resolves to kill the bottom 1% of all 80 million students in the country based on an age adjusted standardized test every year.

Lets imagine hatred of the obese takes off, and a policy is passed to resolve America’s 30% obesity rate by the mass instituting of bounties on hunting and killing the obese... that every year 800,000 to 1.5 million tags will be issued for a fee to allow the hunting of the obese in return for monetary rewards on successful hunts and getting to keep the carcasses for meat base animal foods and the manufacture of fuel, or fat based household products. These bounty hunters become known a “whalers”.

Lets imagine the US announces its done with African Americans... if the problem hasn’t been solved since 1619, its not going to be... and so they’re going to genocide all 40 million African Americans at a rate of 2% a year, for the next 50 years.

Lets imagine opposing extremists get in charge and decide the racists rednecks have to go, and so they’ll be forming death squads to roam the South, Appalachia, and the rust belt, with the objective of killing 800,000 poor whites a year, “until the problem is solved”... with many happily stating 50 years of this would be acceptable, while others state it’d be perfectly fine to renew it another 50 years after that.

…

These are all American lives, and according to pro-lifers of equal moral value to the babies aborted every day, no better, no worse.

By saying this and by saying violence is not and cannot be justified to resist it, they are saying that their reactions to any one of the above eventualities would be to continue to live their lives as they have lived the past 50 years.

I do not know how to respond to that. Even if Abortion is truly murder of an ensouled equal human life... The Pro-choicers committing the murders don’t think it is... hell the Nazis murdered 6 million jews and a further 5 million undesirables, but they didn’t think of them as human, they thought they were monstrous and “life unworthy of life”, like a burning man begging you to shoot him so he doesn’t suffer or hurt his fellows... a mercy in a way.

Pro-lifers on the other hand claim these are equal viable human lives of equal status to yours or mine or perhaps even greater.... They’re Children.

And their reaction to the greatest mass slaughter in human history, the reaction of almost half the electorate, who regularly talk about the need to resist tyrrany and defend the weak (as both left and right in the US do, in their way), their reaction is to vote every 4 years, and have it perhaps not even be the #1 issue if the economy seems bad, they have the opportunity to vote for the first black president, or the Orangeman says something crude about Mexicans... they won’t be single issue voters even when it comes to the greatest crime ever committed in human history?

I refuse to believe it. Even I, cynical as I am, have to believe we are not that far gone, and the age of men has not come crashing down... i would believe the US capable of such a crime, but to believe that a double digit percentage of Americans could look at that, recognize the victims as their fellow humans,recognize their state and society as committing mass murder of their neighbours, future friends, and relatives...to recognize that they have a moral imperative to act on this... and then just go “welp them’s the breaks, gotta be civilized” because 9 people in black robes said it wasn’t murder?

Holy fuck. No that is not how people work, that is not how humans behave, I cannot accept that, and leftists who spent the summer rioting in response to fewer than a thousand police killings of black men a year, who remember the civil rights and anti-war movements, who kinda vaguely recall that they’re supposed to remember Huey Newton, or Saco and Vanseti, or those Rossen...something people... who like to imagine they’d have been abolitionists in the 19th century. They’re right to call bullshit.

They’re right to call the pro-lifers liars who don’t believe their own messaging, and instead just want to control women’s bodies, after a lie like that to their face, they’re right to treat them with scorn.

…

Pro-life is rescuable as a sentiment and an activist movement...

But not while it claims a Holocaust is going on and somehow magically no violence could ever be justified to resist it, thus lining up all the arguments that will allow the next holocaust to be committed without resistance.

There have been a double digit, perhaps even a triple digit number of mass murders and genocides in the hundreds of thousands or millions of people, since the 20th century. America is enabling its ally Saudi Arabia to commit one against the Yemenis right fucking now.

We need to be very fucking clear about what it is justified to do to members of a regime that commits such a crime, and what it is definitely justified to do to the immediate perpetrators of the murder. And That we will back violent resistance to such a horrible crime by the state even if it serves only to make the resister a martyr we’ll praise, or it degrades “civilization” (what civilization could remain in such a regime?), or it ultimately has no effect (it is on the survivor to try harder)... The major members of the House of Saud deserve the Gallows under international law for what they’re doing in Yemen , as do their American attaches and core enablers... and if that comes from a Judge in the Hauge or from a convoy of irregulars in pickup trucks, or from lone assassins who manage to get through to them, It is justice, and i will praise it.

What we cannot do is pretend that genocides and mass slaughter on unconscionable scales are occurring and then come up with excuses for why we should do nothing and anyone who does resist is a criminal. Or else those excuses will be the ones that allow the next real genocide in the west or on US soil to actually happen.

If there is a genocide or democide or whatever you want to call mass slaughter. You must recognize the justice the violent resistance to it, even if you personally do not participate, or you must admit you were lying about there being such a crime... to say otherwise, to say a state can commit such a crime and still retain its right to your loyalty, to say a people up to and including its victims must obey such a thing, a creature made of bureaucracy that has set its sights on massacring humans by the thousands if not millions... it is to side against the human race in a war of extermination.

And as someone whose pro-choice as they come, I’d much rather, if the pro-lifers really believe its murder, I’d much rather they start a bloody civil war, than for it to become the norm that that is ethically acceptable.

#kulakrevolt #reddit #the motte #food for thought

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iceice-baeby · 3 years

Note

So asking people to tune down the harmful content is harassing now? It can be handled much better. There are no signs of character development in this direction either. Stop trying to sass me with your stupid emojis and saying I wasted my time by talking about the issue online. It’s a way to speak up and a form of activism in places where you can legitimately get beaten up for being pro-LGBT in public. You sound like a teenager with one hell of an ego. I guess you’re one of those people who don’t realize fiction does affect real life more than you can imagine.

Excuse me, are you really calling Anon asks send on TUMBLR activism?

Boy, and I am the one who's supposed to have an ego, at least I'm not delusional.

There has been a lot of development over the course of the blog. From the time I started to follow them until now, Ivan got a lot better. Yeah, didn't stop, but he still toned it down a LOT.

Over the course of a few months.

Also, "harmful content". Uh, how does writing about internalised homophobia (WHICH IS A REAL ISSUE PEOPLE STRUGGLE AND NEED HELP WITH) harming anyone? On a blog who has, if I know the average rp blog, like 20 followers max?

And oh my god you are one of those. No, playing some CSGO won't make your son shoot up the school, Soccer Mom. I thought we went over that decades ago.

Fiction can only influence a person if the person already has a bias into a certain direction. A violent video game won't turn someone into a violent person, however a violent person may enjoy violent video games, because they affirm their already present bias.

A character saying a slur won't suddenly turn a progressive Left Voter into a Nazi. In fact, it will probably make that person dislike the character (same thing that happened with you! Wow)

Fiction does not affect reality as much as you think.

Certain people will enjoy certain media, but the vast majority of people can differentiate between fiction and reality and watching media that goes against the persons values won't suddenly change them. People who watched the Sopranos and even enjoyed the series didn't suddenly think the Mafia was alright, and everyone can still agree that Tony Soprano is a terrible person.

You can't tell me you genuinely believe that a character who repressed their sexuality will suddenly turn every random reader into a homophobe.

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fluffykitty1999-blog · 3 years

Text

Burned Chapter 17

Morning found Roy awake and downstairs before either of his boys, nursing his first cup of coffee and ambling down the road, wallet in hand.

There was a newspaper vendor at the corner of his street, always had been, and he was one of the early birds that morning, purchasing a paper as he'd promised Ed.

'SUSANS WINS ELECTION' was the headline, and Roy smiled slightly at the news- Ed would be pleased to read about it later.

'CENTRAL SLASHER STILL AT LARGE' was the next headline down, and Roy frowned, carefully tearing the paper in half at the crease so only the article on Susan's victory was visible. He left it on the table for Ed to find when he wandered downstairs, heading up to his study and scanning the article on the killings with fresh eyes, hoping that reading about it would jog his memory, give him some significant detail he'd missed before... No such luck.

Hughes was probably still at the office. Roy morosely wondered if he'd even been home- probably not. He couldn't exactly blame the man. Still, it was disheartening, knowing Hughes was spending so much time on this and Roy couldn't really help.

He found himself picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number anyways.

"Hughes here." his friend picked up on the fourth ring. He sounded exhausted.

"It's Roy. How are things?"

"Not good enough." Hughes said, tone sounding clipped. "I've interviewed everyone at those talks but the politicians themselves at that talk. Susans came in yesterday, but she didn't have anything helpful, and Trevors is coming this morning. I can't reach Xavier though, we've been calling every hour for who knows how long. The election is over, he has no excuse to be unreachable right now-" Hughes sounded thoroughly pissed, which was unusual for him. "Besides, any politician who gives a damn about their voters would want to keep them safe."

"Hughes, how long has it been since you've slept?"

The line was quiet for a moment. "I took a nap a few hours ago." he said simply.

"For how long?"

"Three hours. I've got coffee, Roy, I'll be fine."

"Right." Roy didn't sound convinced. "How are Gracia and Elicia holding up?"

Another pause, this one tinged with pain. "Good, I think. I haven't really been home. Gracia calls every few hours to let me know they're still alright, I told them both they aren't to leave the house with this freak still at large... Gracia seems alright, but I know she's miserable."

"Yeah, and so are you." Roy supplied. "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass here, but you're exhausted and could use the help. And Gracia and Elicia could use some company. So- hear me out here- let us help you."

"What are you proposing?" it was a testimate to how tired Hughes really was that he was even considering the offer.

"Ed and I have to go into the office today. But once we're done with that, I'll take Ed and Al over to your place. The boys can watch Elicia and I can escort Gracia out to do some shopping. We both know she hates being cooped up in the house. And on our way home we'll stop and visit you. You can have some time to talk to Gracia, and I'll look over your case notes. See if a fresh pair of eyes finds anything new. What do you think?"

"That's a good plan. You sure you don't mind?"

"If anything, it'll give me an excuse to duck out a little early this evening. You know I despise paperwork."

"Right. I- thanks, Roy, I really appreciate it. I'll call Gracia and let her know. She doesn't complain, but I know she's getting cabin fever. See you tonight."

"See you then."

Roy hung up the phone, thoroughly satisfied with himself.

That day at the office was uneventful, although Ed had discovered he could sneakily drop pens into the slots in Alphonse's armor when his brother was engrossed in a book, much to his younger brother's annoyance and Ed's merriment.

"So- why are we babysitting again?" Ed asked as they drove down the road towards the Hughes residence, looking bored.

"Because- Hughes has been at the office for days, and Gracia needs as escort to go shopping and she wants to see her husband. We shouldn't be too long- and even if we are, it's a favor for Hughes."

"Oh- alright." Ed didn't complain, probably because he didn't mind it if it was a favor to Hughes.

They arrived at the house without much fanfare- Gracia smiled when she saw them, but the smile didn't exactly reach her eyes. She explained that dinner was in the fridge for all of them, and that Elicia would probably like to listen to her favorite program on the radio and then play board games in the playroom.

She gathered her purse, looking happy to be going but a bit nervous as she scrutinized the boys. "We shouldn't be long. Are you boys sure you don't mind watching her?"

"Psh- piece of cake." Ed waved her off, beaming a reassuring smile. Elicia was already attempting to climb on Al's suit of armor like a jungle gym behind him. "We totally got this."

"You know the office phone numbers- both of them- in case of emergency." Roy said to reassure her, nodding to Gracia.

"Right, of course. Well- have fun! Elicia- be good!"

"I will, mommy! Big brother, why don't you stand still so I can climb better!"

"Because I'm not a jungle gym! And I don't want you to fall and get hurt!" Alphonse protested.

Ed was laughing to himself, watching the scene, amused, as Roy and Gracia left, being sure to lock the door behind them.

"Do you think they're alright?" Gracia asked, as she picked through the produce nervously at the store, Mustang standing beside her in his uniform, hands in his pockets.

"I think they'll be fine. Ed's more than capable, and even if he is a little reckless, Alphonse is always there to be practical. They have the phone numbers if they need anything."

"Of course." Gracia placed some apples into the grocery basket, still looking downcast. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to question their abilities. I know Ed and Al are fantastic. It's just... this is the first time we've left Gracia alone with someone other than my mother to watch her. And with everything going on lately and Maes being at the office so much... it's been hard."

"I understand. It's a stressful time. But the sooner Hughes gets this case done, the sooner you all can rest easy. Besides- we'll be over to see him shortly. He's looking forward to seeing you- I could tell just by talking to him on the phone."

"That's true." Gracia brightened significantly at the thought of seeing her husband, and even gave Roy a wane smile. "Then I suppose I'd better hurry and finish this shopping so I can see him sooner.".

"Horsey, horsey! Faster horsey!" Elicia chanted from where she sat, perched atop Ed's back. Ed, for his part, was on all fours on the playroom floor, a rather degrading position, if you asked him, but still, it helped keep Elicia amused and from breaking flower vases, so he'd go for it.

"Al-" he groused, walking around as fast as he could muster without knocking his rider off his back. "Isn't it your turn to be the horse?"

"No. He's metal and too big. You need to go faster." Elicia said matter-of-factly, digging her heels into Ed's ribs.

"Yah!" Ed started and jumped, before starting to run around faster.

Alphonse snickered.

Fifteen minutes later, Ed was lying sprawled out on the floor on his stomach. "No more. No more."

"Aw. No more horsey?" Elicia looked saddened.

"No. Horsey has retired." Ed admitted, tired.

"Huh. My Daddy always is a horsey longer than that." Elicia looked disappointed, before pointing at the clock. "Big brother, what time does that say?"

"7:30." Alphonse supplied helpfully.

Elicia gasped, green eyes growing impossibly wide with excitement. "That means my radio program is on!" she grabbed Al's leather hand in her own, tugging him towards the stairs. "C'mon! You have to listen to it with me! You too, little brother!"

"'M not little." Ed mumbled halfheartedly from where his face was smushed into the carpet. "An' I'll catch up-"

He could already hear the metal clanking as Elicia pulled Alphonse downstairs.

Ed sighed, gathering himself and walking down slowly after them. Elicia was already laying on her stomach in front of the radio, feet in the air and chin perched on her hands, elbows on the ground as she stared excitedly at the radio.

Al had carefully selected the channel she asked for, and now the crackling radio-operator's voice announced the start of 'The Littlest Pony" radio show.

It was hard for Gracia to hide her excitement at seeing her husband- even if it was only in the office. Maes, too, looked excited, wrapping his wife in a bear-hug and not letting go for nearly a full minute.

Roy let them talk and settled himself behind Maes desk, eyes scanning the gore-filled pictures and casefiles with intense scrutiny.

While the couple talked at length about each other- how they'd missed one another, how Elicia was doing, how Gracia was holding up- the conversation eventually circled back to the case.

"Do you think it'll be over soon, Maes?" Gracia asked, looking hopeful.

"I'm doing my best, sweetheart. Roy was kind enough to come help me look over these case files..."

"Any leads?"

"No. Well, yes." Hughes ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "We've interviewed everyone except the politicians. Susans came yesterday, she didn't have any useful information, and Trevors today, nothing new, but Xavier we still haven't been able to get ahold of anyone but his secretary. I'm afraid he may be a dead-end too- and then- I don't know what we're going to do." Hughes admitted, looking defeated.

"You're brilliant, honey, I'm sure you'll think of something."

A knocked sounded at the door, and they all looked up from their respective places.

"Come in." Hughes said, sounding weary.

The door opened to reveal a rather slight woman with honey-blond hair, carrying a small gift basket. Roy recognized her from her picture in the paper today- it was Susans, the woman who'd won the election for representative today.

"Hello Lieutenant Hughes." she offered him a warm smile.

"Miss Susans. Hello. Nice to see you again. Did you remember anything since our interview yesterday? Any new details?" he looked hopeful.

Susans shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I didn't. I just won the election, though- and I know how invested you are in this case. As my first move as our official representative, I brought you a small token of thanks for all your hard work." she nodded to Gracia, offering the basket to Hughes. "I hope I didn't intrude."

"Not at all. We were just discussing the cooperation of the candidates. Or lack thereof. You were the easiest to get ahold of." Hughes admitted.

"Oh, you've been having trouble reaching them? That's a surprise. I talked to Trevors today- he was disappointed to have lost, but agreed to work as one of my assistants. Good man. And Xavier said he'd be visiting you today. I'm surprised you haven't heard from him."

"You've heard from Xavier?" Hughes looked excited. "He's the only witness we haven't been able to reach for an interview. His testimony might crack this case!"

"He's been meaning to stop by for awhile, it sounds like. He's a rather... odd fellow, though. He seemed to nervous on the night of the last debate. He even went missing for awhile- I suspect he was in the bathroom. And then- when he was leaving for the night- well, I don't want to embarrass him..."

"Miss Susans. Any detail you remember could make or break this case. Please, I need to know." Hughes had already snatched up a nearby notepad and pen, staring at her intensely. Roy had now abandoned his casefiles and was watching the exchange as well, as was Gracia.

"Well- he- when he left after the debates, he was carrying a pink handbag. He has a wife, but she wasn't there that night, so... I suppose it could've been from a lover..."

The notepad and pen fell from Hughes slack hands and hit the floor.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?" Roy was on his feet, shocked and disbelieving.

"He was carrying a pink purse that evening that he didn't have when he came in." Susans admitted, looking surprised by the intensity of their reaction. "I didn't think it was a big deal, in fact, I'd completely forgotten about it until you asked. Why? Is something the matter?"

"That's our man, Roy! Xavier is our man!" Hughes boomed, looking excited. "The purse! Ed mentioned the purse! It all makes sense!"

"No wonder your office has been having trouble reaching him, he's the one!" Roy thundered, looking equally excited.

"Is this significant to the investigation some how?" Susans asked, looking surprised.

Hughes was animated enough he might have sprung across the room and hugged her.

"Yes! Yes, Miss Susans, I think you've cracked our case!"

Susans smiled, looking pleased with herself. "Well, I'm afraid I don't understand how, but I'm glad I could help. Still, I'm surprised Xavier hasn't gotten in contact with you. I just spoke to him today on the phone. I gave him the same offer as I did Trevors- to work as one of my assistants."

"And what did he say?" Roy asked, still interested.

"He turned me down. Said he was disappointing by the results of the election, but he wasn't going to let it bother him any longer. He said he had to pay a visit to one of his greatest supporters and thank him in person today..."

"And who was that?"

Susans looked surprised. "You mean you don't know? He said his biggest supporter was YOU, Lieutenant..."

"Of course. Because I've been investigating the case this whole time... But why hasn't he been here yet, then?" Hughes asked himself softly.

"Oh- he said he didn't want to bother you at work. Said he'd rather visit your wife and daughter as well. I think he was planning on going to your home."

I need a lotta lattees to make it through these days....

Just kidding! But donations are always welcome at https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

#fma fanfiction #FMA #burned #burns #injury #accident #Edwhumph #edward elric whumph #parentalroy #parental roy #roy mustang #ed whump #whumph #whump #angst #hurt ed #comfort #hurt #hurt/comfort

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politicaltheatre · 3 years

Text

In A Clearing

So, here we are. At last. At long last.

For too long, we’ve felt as if we’ve been lost in the woods, blindly tripping over roots, stumbling through muck, fearful, frustrated, angry, not knowing which step would put us in the right direction and not knowing how long it would take us to reach open space, sunlight, and safety.

But we’re here. We’ve arrived. We see light ahead of us and darkness behind, and, if we aren’t careful, we’ll convince ourselves that we’ve made it out of the woods, that it really is all behind us.

That’s the trap. That’s the lie that we long to hear. But we know better. Or should.

Yesterday, the Electoral College voted to confirm the victory of President-Elect Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. and Vice President-Elect Kamala Devi Harris. After four years of naked corruption culminating in a campaign of naked racism, hatred, and fear, the arrival of a president seemingly in it to serve rather than only in it to help himself should have us elated. But we aren’t. We can’t be, and we know why.

The Electoral College itself is emblematic of where we are and of how far we still have to go. As a system, the use of electors is obsolete, like relying on a video store when you’re already paying to stream high-definition videos. The electors, representing only the major political parties, are gatekeepers, a class unto themselves who are chosen from among a select, well-connected few.

It’s one more remnant of a world in which being a wealthy, white, male land (and people) owner meant you had the moral character to decide whether or not those allowed to vote had chosen well. However much Alexander Hamilton and others talked up checks and balances, this was one thing seemingly designed to maintain imbalances of power, for that is what it has come to do.

It badly needs to go. Even some of the electors say so. Unfortunately, that will require a constitutional amendment, which will require states to ratify. And wouldn’t you know it, the states needed to reach the 75% threshold for ratification are the ones benefitting from it still: sparsely populated, rural states.

To be fair, a country dominated by the economic interests of heavily populated cities isn’t a country any of us should want to live in. We need balance (and checks), and rural regions have good reason to fear that without something to force attention onto them, they wouldn’t be heard, let alone listened to.

And yet, the electoral college isn’t the means we need to that end. It forces attention, yes, but it also enables abuse of power by the few over the many and, as the past two presidential elections have shown all too well, it encourages bigotry as a means of maintaining regional identity and securing (or suppressing) votes.

The road to eliminate it is so far out in front of us that we can’t even see it. It would require convincing small states to vote for it or creating newer small states - D.C., Puerto Rico, splitting California - to push the margin. There’s so much we have to do just to get to it, and knowing that is what should tell us where we are, not at the edge of the woods but in a clearing, still deep within.

The seemingly easy solution is simply to go forward in the direction we took to reach the clearing. Just keep going. However, without knowing what we face in the woods beyond the other side of the clearing, how will we know where it leads?

What we should do, as always, is stop to get out bearings, to know where it is we actually are, and then to ask the questions we should know to ask.

The first question upon entering the clearing is: What were we escaping from? That, of course, only leads to more questions. For example, 81 million Americans voted for Joe Biden, but how many of them were just voting to get rid of Donald Trump? If just getting rid of Trump was all they wanted, how many of them are committed to getting rid of the culture that gave rise to Trump? How many would just be satisfied to return to the world as it existed January 19, 2017? Or November 7, 2016?

The uncomfortable truth of this moment is that the answers to those questions are probably: Trump in the White House; The majority; Few even think about it; and, Way, way more than is good for us long term. If facts matter - and do they ever matter - the most simple fact of all is this: There’s a pandemic going on and people want certainty, first and foremost that the pandemic will be ended soon by competent, compassionate human beings.

That, voters of America, might as well have been Joe Biden’s campaign slogan. If you’re looking at him nominating one Washington and Wall Street insider after another and pulling your hair out, keep in mind that metaphorically turning the clock back four years was his entire campaign promise and is exactly his goal. To him and those working with him, this is what the world needs to see. He wants to reassure banks and to reassure the militaries of both allies and foes.

“We were sick,” he’s saying. “But we’re healthy again.”

That Biden is sending this message just as the first COVID-19 vaccines are arriving around the world is a little ironic, but only because the drive to release them was as much a political one as anything, pushed by a man who cared less that the vaccines worked than that they came out in time for him to claim credit. And credit will only really be due if they actually work, which we won’t know for months, possibly even an entire year.

What, then, of this coming year? Well, if you thought getting Trump out of the White House would be enough to get rid of him and his influence, you were deluded.

As much as 81 million Americans just wanted Trump gone, 74 million took a good, long, four years to look at who and what Donald Trump was and what he did and what he said and what he was doing to this country and thought, “That’s the one for me!” They’ve tied so much of their identities up in seeing him succeed, that, like die hard fans of a losing sports team, they just keep coming back for more.

If you’ve been wondering how and why 126 Republican men and women and 19 Republican Attorneys General would sign on to a lawsuit filed by the Republican Attorney General of Texas to invalidate votes in States that were not Texas, well, you have 74 million reasons, all of them potential campaign donors and voters in just two years. Of course, they all knew the lawsuit was a joke, that it would fail.

Most of them probably also knew that seeking to invalidate votes and install the loser of a presidential election could be seen as sedition or treason, but how many of them sincerely believed the lawsuit would go anywhere? To them, it was just another empty campaign promise made to suckers and losers. And to Ken Paxton, that Texas Attorney General, it was little more than a valentine to the man who, for the next four and a half weeks, has the power to pardon him for multiple federal crimes.

Which raises another question: How many of those 126 believed that they would ever be brought up on charges in this political culture? Is anyone charged with anything anymore? Certainly, no one ever goes to jail. And if they do…well, maybe there’s a pardon, from this president or whichever Republican wins in 2024. Just because they’re cynically using Republican voters for profit doesn’t mean Republican politicians can’t be just as deluded as their marks.

We live in a cheating culture. Electing Joe Biden does nothing to end it. Mitch McConnell and his House counterparts are counting on that. So, too, are current White House staffers, from outgoing Attorney General William Barr down to the lowliest interns manning the paper shredders this Christmas. They all see this moment and think, “This won’t last. We’ll be back.”

They may be right. Hell, even the Houston Astros coaches and executives who cheated their way to a championship a few years ago have jobs in baseball again. The sport entered that particular clearing, one in which cheating and cheaters were publicly shamed, turned around and walked right back where they came from. Of course, they have some experience with this kind of collective amnesia, and there’s so much money to be made.

That’s why the Republicans are acting like this moment is just that, a moment, a pause, a break. They fully expect us to turn around and go right back into the woods we just escaped. That’s how they make their money. They expect us to see Joe Biden in the White House and lose our way, either to confusion, frustration, or complacency. We’ll look around ourselves and see woods in every direction, with no sense of which path to take or how far the woods go in any one direction.

And there they’ll be, at the edge we just left, beckoning us back, telling us how foolish we were to allow ourselves to be dragged out into the open where we are vulnerable. The longer it takes for us to get vaccines, the longer we go without jobs and stuck at home with our kids, the more they will play this game. To them, that’s exactly what it is, a game with only winners and losers, and the more they play, the more uncertain the results will be.

That’s how they win, and it’s the specialty of Mitch McConnell. It’s what he did to obstruct Barack Obama and, given that Joe Biden will undoubtedly negotiate exactly the same way he did as Vice President, it is undoubtedly what McConnell will do again. Anything he can do to delay relief to those who have been made most vulnerable by the pandemic, he will do in order to extract more profit for himself and his benefactors.

That anything includes enabling and encouraging right wing violence, which has increased in lockstep with the Republican Party’s dismantling of functional governance and which will very likely increase even more now that Trump’s roadshow circus of lawsuits have resulted in comical defeat.

Trump is doing it for the obvious reasons: adulation, power, and, most important, to leech every last penny he can from his devoted followers. McConnell and the rest of the “we don’t know who won” Republicans in Congress are doing it for those reasons, too, but they have one other reason: the two Georgia runoffs on January 5th. They have two candidates battling accusations of insider trading (and cozying up to white supremacists), and desperately want Trump voters (including those white supremacists) to vote Republican.

Which takes us back to the newly-re-re-re-christened president-elect, who has until today resisted visiting Georgia to help the Democratic campaigns. He’s still been a presence there - How could a president-elect not be? - but only as a distantly reassuring face for Democrats and a menacing bogeyman for Republicans. Think the attack on Dr. Jill Biden has nothing to do with Georgia? If Republicans can’t run against “socialists”, they’ll run against “uppity, liberal elites trying to tell everyone how to live their lives”, which amounts to the same thing: “Freedom!”

All of this is to say, we can’t expect the right wing to learn the lessons we want them to learn from defeat. They never have, and they never will. If they could learn those kinds of lessons, they wouldn’t be right wing. Their instinct isn’t to accept defeat and be humbled by it, it’s to figure out ways to get around it without having to admit they lost at all.

When Nixon was forced from office, his closest supporters didn’t take the lesson that corruption and an illegal war were wrong, only that he failed to get away with it. Thirty years later, two of them, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, led the United States into a still ongoing war in Iraq from which they and they friends made billions. Their push for deregulation led in no small part to an economic crisis, for which they and their friends were bailed out. What lesson do you think they learned from that?

And almost fifty years after Nixon initiated the “Southern Strategy”, one of his most faithful acolytes courted white supremacy to gain and then attempt to hold onto the presidency. The Southern Strategy was something of a revival of Jim Crow - a mutated strain, if you will - which was a revival of the Confederacy, which was an attempt to hold onto slaves, which at its root is an economic system built on an imbalance of both power and accountability.

There is no permanent cure for things like racism and sexism and bullying, because it is the motivations, such as the craven desire not to have to be accountable to others, that drive such behavior. If I am not accountable to you, I can take from you, I can hurt you, I can humiliate you, and I can enjoy it. The abuse not only is the behavior, it is its own justification for the behavior. That is what hides waiting for us in the woods. That is what we have escaped from - or tried to - as we entered this clearing.

If only we could stay here. We have this brief moment, out in the center of the clearing, out in the sun, safe and warm, but in a few short weeks it will be time for us to choose a direction. The risk we face by stopping is that we may get turned around. From the center of a clearing, the woods look the same in every direction, just trees and shadows and whatever dangers they may hide. Lose our way and we may end up right back where we started. We can’t allow that. We can’t settle for it.

This is an inflection point. Things can go in any direction. We are the ones who have the power to decide, not the gatekeepers and not anyone preying on the worst of our nature.

Choose accountability. It may not be the fastest way through the woods, but it will be the only way out.

- Daniel Ward

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ipictureitsoftandiache · 4 years

Note

"warren selling out and throwing the progressive movement under the bus and irreparably damaging her reputation" Not trying to shame you, but stop getting your information from the misogynist left. Look at Biden's policies, not just the platform but the actual policies on his website. They are further to the left than any Democratic nominee in history thanks to Elizabeth Warren. It's really sad to see you buy into the misogyny.

baby the only reason i hold any venom for elizabeth warren is that i used to admire her before she walked back on a lot of the policies she started her campaign with, like her vow to not take superPAC $ and her once unwavering support of truly universal healthcare. the fact that biden’s policies are “further to the left than any democratic nominee in history” isn’t really a selling point, considering the democratic party is still a fundamentally right-wing institution. despite their alleged opposition to the RNC, the DNC still represents a status quo that has led to the deaths of over 165k americans. “going back to normal” is not an option when normal means millions of americans live paycheck to paycheck, without access to adequate healthcare — that “normal” is how we got here in the first place.

you’ll have to forgive me for my lack of enthusiam for biden’s “progressive” policies. i care more about what politicians actually do with the power they yield, not what they say to pander to voters before elections. it’s nice that joe biden has promised to champion racial justice — that doesn’t change the fact that he helped write the 1994 “tough on crime” bill that terrorizes communities of color (particularly black ones) to this day. it’s all well and good joe is outraged by the inhumane treatment of undocumented immigrants from the global south — that doesn’t change that he served in the cabinet of a president who deported more immigrants than any president in us history (even more than trump), who did, in fact, “lock people in cages,” despite what joe claims, who built those cages in the first place. of course, joe has now pivoted to calling those deportations a big mistake, and i can’t hold biden entirely accountable for the actions of a man he only served under. but you’re gonna have to understand why i, a latinx person, don’t trust him as far as i can throw him. you’ll have to excuse me for not creaming myself over biden’s proposals. obama promised things too. that’s what politicians do. they promise things. i think it’s fair for me to be wary of promises made by people who have in the past proven themselves to be untrustworthy.

as for the “misogynistic left” claim — are you under the impression that i’m a “bernie bro” or something? i’m not. i’m far to the left of bernie, and i’ve been very open about that. bernie, despite being to the left of most of his colleagues, is still a capitalist (albeit a different type), and i am an anticapitalist. i have no qualms about critiquing bernie (which i’m also open about), or any politician for that matter.

which brings me back to my earlier statement. do you want to know why i have so little respect for warren? because i used to hold any in the first place. i don’t speak about buttigieg or klobuchar the same way i speak about warren because i never had any faith in them to begin with. i knew they weren’t allies, but i thought warren was. hell, a few weeks before super tuesday, i told a warren phonebanker that called me that, while i’d be voting for sanders in the primaries, i’d gladly support warren if she were the candidate. i was willing to overlook how she left water protectors at standing rock out to dry (despite claiming indigenous ancestry for a good chunk of her life), or how she supported the sanctions on iran (though she seems to have changed course on this and called for sanctions to be lifted, which, good on her). but then, warren shifted from joining forces with sanders to push progressive policies (which i openly delighted in, if you saw me post about it) to pushing back against progressive policies (like medicare for all) in favor of the more “pragmatic.” she then went on to not endorse sanders during the primaries, being very loudly silent in her refusal to support a progressive candidate that she initially closely aligned with in his race against a segregationist rapist, because she (admittedly probably correctly) considered the political risk to be too great. i’m not an idiot. i know that’s just the name of the game. it still angered (and continues to anger) me.

and that brings me back to the whole misogyny thing — it’s kinda bullshit that i can’t hold politicians accountable for their actions without being decried as a misogynist. you can’t pick and choose the times i criticize politicians you like and claim i’m secretly a bigot. actually, it’s kind of ridiculous, considering my refusal to play into critiques of warren that are misogynistic, like her being shrill or manipulative (in a way that is notable and that differs from the way politicians are normally manipulative, because we live in a society). i honestly gave warren the benefit of the doubt for a long time specifically because she’s a woman, and nitpicking her over her infinitely worse male colleagues would’ve been counterproductive. like, i literally made a post about it. claiming i’m being misogynistic for critiquing warren is deflection. do i think warren is a sellout? yeah, i do. i think sanders is, too. i’ve been open about this, whether you’ve seen it or not.

i’m sorry you’re disappointed in me. my opinion of warren has not changed in the slightest. i’m not gonna flood her mentions with snake emojis, but i’m also not gonna get on my knees and kiss her feet. she is not my messiah. no politician is. i think you and i deserve better than whatever crumbs the DNC wants to throw us. we deserve truly progressive policy, not “more progressive than usual” policy. a little better is not good enough. i don’t think we should settle for “slightly less terrible.” i’ve been doing that ever since i first began forming my own politics, and it hasn’t done anyone any good. i’m tired of this “incremental change” bullshit. i’m going to hold politicians’ feet to the fire, because we (their constituents) are the ones being burned. politicians exist to serve us. not the other way around.

#ive called bernie a little bitch numerous times lmao i dont only dunk on warren #the ask and the answer #anonymous #long post #election 2020

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bustedbernie · 4 years

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Oh hai. Lately there have been a slew of think pieces about Bernie Sanders being the front-runner, discussing how his movement has threatened to withhold their votes from Democrats if Bernie isn’t the nominee. Hidden between the lines is the idea that Democrats, in general, owe their votes to Sanders if he is the nominee, regardless of the fact that his voters do NOT owe Dems their votes if he is not. So, rather than call them out for using the same tactics that lost the 2016 election, there is a faction in the media that is growing more and more permissive to the idea that Bernie and his Revolution are somehow the victims in all this, and that mainstream Dems have done them wrong time and time again when picking a candidate that appeals to the Dems masses.

Let me let you in on a little secret.

I don’t owe Bernie Sanders or his fucked off revolution of stanerific emo-marxist cyber-terrorists a goddamn bit of shit the fuck all. When these utter fucking geniuses in the media reflect on how energized and dedicated his enthusiastic fans are when engaging in their harassment of the average Dem, they seem to think the people who have been abused don’t fucking matter. These Dems are people who have never done anything whatsoever to deserve the constant bullying, cyber-stalking, targeting, threats, or in my case, being falsely reported to the FBI by fans of Bernie who seek to silence dissent. What these media personalities don’t understand is that the abuse by Bernie fans, in his name, actually causes the gap between MAGA and Berners to shrink to the point where it is non-existent. There is no real difference between the abuse from either side, and since Sanders isn’t the warm and fuzzy type that reaches out to the people who have been abused, often there appears to be no real difference between Sanders and Trump.

Slate:

Still, the Bernie-or-Busters, small as they may be, have spun their position into an argument for why others should vote for Bernie Sanders too, regardless of the platform they prefer. As efforts in political persuasion go, this contingent puts forward an openly hostile argument. Sanders is the only electable candidate, they suggest, not just because of his policies, but because of the single-mindedness of his followers. The reason you should vote for Sanders is that we won’t vote for anyone else. You don’t want Trump to win again, do you?

No. But I also don’t want Bernie Sanders to win. In a case of one not liking either candidate, people look to see which movement they feel most comfortable with, Bernie’s or Trump’s. If it turns out that both movements engage in racist behavior, sexism, and homophobia, it really doesn’t matter what they profess to be in favor of as far as policy is concerned, what matters is how they treat their fellow citizens by and large. We all know that unless we take back the Senate with a large majority that can defeat Republican attempts to stop legislation from hitting Sanders’ desk, nothing will pass anyway. So, if you’re not in favor of Bernie’s policies in the first place, and do not like him or his movement, why would you be enthusiastic about showing up for the guy who leads the movement that engages in attacks on you?

Yes, it sounds like ugly hostage taking—not a brilliant persuasive strategy but a crude ego-boosting exercise for a group of leftists who can’t resist the impulse to lord some power over an electorate that doesn’t normally consider them relevant. But that’s exactly what makes it so normal, even understandable, in a depressing “we’re all human” sort of way. [NO.] Because the truth is this: Every threat these Sanders stans are explicitly making is one the venerated Centrist Swing Voter makes implicitly—and isn’t judged for. The centrist never even has to articulate his threat.

Excuse me, it IS ugly hostage taking, it is NOT normal, and no, it doesn’t make me see them as more human.

Another thing is this: not everyone opposed to Bernie Sanders is a Centrist, Moderate, or a Swing voter. Many of us are as far left or to the left of Sanders, I for one am definately to his left, and had supported him in 2015. That was until his racist abusive Bern Mafia targeted me for expressing concern about his lack of outreach to black voters. I noticed his lack of history in hiring black people (D.C. is Chocolate City, we could not find one black staffer in 2015; I am open to correction on this point; if he had black staffers prior to 2015, please send me receipts because I have been looking for them.), lamented and mocked his poor showing at Netroots, fumed over his constant MLK appropriation, jeered at his white ass crowds, and felt humiliated by his inability to discuss black people in ways that were not centered on Poverty or Prisons. It is HIS FAULT that his voters have no clue how to engage Black people without resorting to stereotypes and outright bigotry, because he does the same thing.

Buzzfeed:

Sanders, seated across the table, a yellow legal pad at hand, responded with a question of his own, according to two people present: “Aren’t most of the people who sell the drugs African American?” The candidate, whose aides froze in the moment, was quickly rebuffed: The answer, the activists told him, was no. Even confronted with figures and data to the contrary, Sanders appeared to have still struggled to grasp that he had made an error, the two people present said.

No. He did not apologize for spreading this stereotype, and yes, it shows how he views black people in general.

Slate:

One of many disorienting factors in this election cycle is the fact that the left is more popular and more viable than it has been in a long, long time. They have not one but two exciting candidates, and both are offering policies closer to what leftists actually want than most presidential contenders in U.S. history have.

I wanted the party to move to the Left towards the direction of where I stood too. I can’t really name my ideology because it’s so far left I am almost hitting the wall. Additionally, I am more Libertarian than Sanders, who trends more authoritarian. Yet, I instinctively know that playing a game of “my way or the highway” won’t lead to a place where poverty programs are expanded up and out, ensuring all necessities of life are provided. It will lead to gridlock and we will make zero progress.

Because folks at the center tend to be wooed by multiple candidates, they’re used to having options, and they’re used to the experience of their vote determining who ends up with the nomination. This means that they usually like the candidate they vote for, in the primary and in the general. Not so for leftists, who get to merely tolerate the candidates they end up having to vote for in order to mitigate the damage from a worse result.

Here’s the rub… I’m Black. None of this shit applies to me, because as a Black person, I rarely even LIKE or TRUST any of the candidates I have been voting for over the years. I also usually, especially in State and Locally, don’t have any say so in determining the nominee of any race. I am always stuck voting for whoever White People choose as the candidate, and as such, am merely tolerating whoever is chosen to prevent a worse outcome, which usually means preventing a racist shitmonger from winning a race.

Speaking of race… Progressives refuse to address race as a factor in anything; they like to ignore race in everything they do and allow Prison Policy to stand in for Racial Policy, so it’s impossible to get them to see my reality. They get this shit from Bernie.

From Buzzfeed:

“The real issue is not whether you’re black or white, whether you’re a woman or a man,” he said in a 1988 interview. “The real issue is whose side are you on? Are you on the side of workers and poor people or are you on the side of big money and the corporations?”

Not much has changed with Bernie, as you know, Bernie never changes, because he was born as a 72 year old yelly man, just like Benjamin Button, but louder and not as cute.

“It’s not good enough for someone to say, ‘I’m a woman! Vote for me!’” No, that’s not good enough. What we need is a woman who has the guts to stand up to Wall Street, to the insurance companies, to the drug companies, to the fossil fuel industry,” the Vermont independent senator and former Democratic presidential candidate said in a not-so-subtle rebuke to Hillary Clinton”

Bernie’s attacks on Identity Politics filtered down to his base, causing them to feel confident in their attacks on Blacks, LGBTQ, and Women who brought up issues of race, sexuality, and gender over the past few years. They love to say shit to black people online that they would never say to an actual Black person IN PERSON, because they are scared as fuck of Black people. Kinda like Bernie. The refrain of “that’s identity politics, not real policy’ rang out constantly on social media the past few years to the point where pointing out racism, homophobia, and sexism was met with swarms of white men attacking Black people, All Women Who Dared To Be THAT Bitch, LGBTQ, and really, anyone worried about social justice issues that focused on identity. The attacks were and ARE bigoted in the extreme.

This is racist as fuck and is one of the ways the Bernie Titty-Babies managed to marginalize Kamala Harris and drive a wedge between her and Black Voters. Somehow they thought keeping it going would make us like dusty ass Bernie more, but they’re stupid, because we don’t even like that geriatric Bernadook now.

This is homophobic.

Bernie’s supporters are engaging in a hate campaign against Mayor Pete and are trying to convince the world that they are not being homophobic, they are just saying Pete is suppressing his dangerous serial killer nature by being so straight laced. This is fucked up because they are attacking a gay man for being “straight appearing” in spite of the fact that his seeming straightness is how he interacts with a world that hates gay people, and has at times (and Still Does) MURDERED men and women who are gay for not assimilating or conforming to hetero-normative stereotypes. Bernie ignores this behavior from his fans like he ignores all of their nasty hate campaigns. I blame him.

This is misogynistic. No explanation needed.

Racist and fat shaming. Black hair is not your fucking business, bitch. Back the fuck up.

This is just blatantly false and caused people to harass Kamala Harris supporters until they stopped using the Yellow Circles she asked supporters to wear, it stems from the misogynoir his fans engaged in towards Kamala. Bernie has never said shit, so I blame him.

Bigotry. Also erasure of Biden’s Black support in a effort to make it seem as if Bernie is the candidate of diversity. Bernie is at fault, he also erases minorities.

Sexist. Also, damn near all of his fans seem to hate Obama on the same level and with as much heat as MAGA. Why the fuck would we want to join in unity with this man when his fans HATE the first black President. Oh, you think Bernie has nothing to do with setting the tone?

“The business model, if you like, of the Democratic Party for the last 15 years or so has been a failure,” Sanders started, responding to a question about the young voters who supported his campaign. “People sometimes don’t see that because there was a charismatic individual named Barack Obama, who won the presidency in 2008 and 2012.

“He was obviously an extraordinary candidate, brilliant guy. But behind that reality, over the last 10 years, Democrats have lost about 1,000 seats in state legislatures all across this country.”

Bernie doesn’t fucking like Obama either.

Sexism. Racism. Bernie does the worst with Black Women, and is often dismissive when asked a question by one of us. So, his fans see nothing to lose by targeting us in particular, and we in turn are likely the largest group of people willing to sit this one out if Bernie manages to come out on top. The media is no help whatsoever to marginalized people, because they ultimately weave a narrative where Bernie comes out the victim.

We can already see it happening amongst the Children of the Bern, where they have taken to labeling K-Hive, a movement started by a Black Woman (Me) for a Black Woman (Kamala Harris), “Liberal ISIS” for our resistance to Bernie and willingness to defend the other candidates from the attacks levied by the Berner Swarm.

Oh, cry me a fucking river! We don’t dox, cyberstalk, harass, abuse, try to get people fired, engage in bigotry, we learn from our mistakes, and we never make it our mission to ruin someone’s life.

We simply turn the tables on the bros and ask tough questions, like Kamala Harris. If that breaks you down, you were already broken before you found us. Oh, yeah. That’s another thing. We don’t go looking for Berners to abuse; we wait until they come to abuse US and refuse to play along.

Regardless of what poor Peter Daou says, there is no “Unadulterated Hatred” in asking if someone has checked on him.

So, yes, I can blame Bernie for the nastiness of his movement and choose not to ever join it no matter what. Progressives love to play forever victims, even while they engage in their vile abuse, but I do not have to empower their movement or help them elect Bernie. Maybe if enough people sound the alarm and let him know we will not be helping him in November while suffering constantly at the hands of his Branch Bernidians, then he will have no choice but to be a leader and fucking lead these assholes into being decent people. I don’t expect the abuse to magically end if Bernie becomes President or loses to Trump, and I also don’t expect him to do shit about it, so I guess I’m just Never Bernie. What I am now stuck with is the same as always; White States get to vote first and create the narrative that Dem voters are in favor of whoever these powerful white voters choose, and I am sick of it and sick of Sanders. I didn’t become a Democrat to not only be marginalized by the White Moderate, but to also suffer abuse from the punk ass White leftist bitchmade humdinger of a Revolution. I’m not here to empower shitfucks that search me out no matter where I am just to heap abuse on me, threaten me, or report me to the FBI as a possible MASS SHOOTER, all because I think Bernie is an old bigot who minimizes Black oppression to appease the white voters he thinks he’ll need to win the General.

I’m just Never Bernie, deal with it or die mad about it. I don’t care which.

#neverbernie #bernie #berniesanders #bernie sanders #berniebros #bernie bros #notmeus #feelthebern #long post #longpost #faq

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onegirllis · 4 years

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Since Life is Strange 2 is finally fully released, I let myself to write a probably not-so-short review of the complete season. The momentum for such a summary is already gone I presume but it took me a moment to finally digest and find the proper words to describe what I think and feel about this production. Following the game from the start, I patiently waited to look at the story as a whole, hoping to find an explanation for tons of burning questions and satisfying outcomes to my choices and decisions. Unfortunately, most of those didn’t happen, therefore I present you with a piece that is not very favorable towards the newest Dontnod production, harsh in places but honest. Please, do not read if you really enjoyed the story of the two brothers and find it meaningful and important, not burdened with any fallacy. Life is way too short to read reviews that just leave you frustrated.

Remember the scene in Life is Strange season one (I still hate the fact that I have to separate different instances of the franchise calling them seasons), when Max summoned by an enormous plasma TV in Victoria’s room fantasizes about watching “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” on it? “I like this movie, I don’t care what everybody says,” getting protective about her preferences, the little freckle leaves the room soon after, never gifting us with any explanation as to why she indeed values this animation so much or why it was an important statement. It was never brought back again, it will never matter, becoming simply a meme material or a trigger for snarky comments from Twitch streamers and YouTubers. I watched the said movie a long time ago, recalling only two things about it: the breathtaking animation of hair at the beginning and the fact that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck. The rest of the story fell into obscurity before the end credits hit the screen. I reached for this title only because I was interested in anything video games related, and the name of the popular franchise was more than enough.

The same thing goes for Life is Strange 2.

Just like the mentioned FF: The Spirits Within, the second instance of the beloved series is more of an animation than an interactive experience. Recently, plenty of video games, overwhelmed by finally reachable technology of smooth mocaps, facial expressions, hyper-realistic locations, and scanned people as characters, turned into an alley dedicated to B-class movies. From adventures by David Cage to Death Stranding, video games started to flip their working template, replacing the actual action with long animations, not the other way around. With scattered gameplay, sometimes forced as if the developers reminded themselves at the last minute that this product is supposed to be interactive, they raise an eyebrow at best, and boil your blood with the lack of creativity at its worst. Life Is Strange 2 follows this trend with astonishing enthusiasm and to the core. Even regarding this particular genre that’s supposed to focus on narrative, it barely stands as a walking simulator becoming a hardly watchable TV series — a road trip story where walking is limited.

Well, shit.

The gameplay in Life is Strange 2 is nonexistent. To be frank, riveting action-packed sequences were never a trademark of the series, but a blatant lack of any didn’t make this experience any better. With the first one, the rewind power allowed the player to actually be part of the narrative. The second, where Sean just serves as a witness to his brother’s actions, plays more like a full motion picture. An enormous amount of un-skippable cut-scenes change LIS2 into a tedious, dragging journey straight from the worst selection of buy 1 get 3 free Z-class movies. The music and the mastery in creating an atmosphere that rose Dontnod to international fame due to widespread acclaim can’t save those sequences either. It almost feels like their own creation so enchanted the development team that they ignored all the red flags and clumsy solutions to immerse in the world themselves, treating the actual player as a lesser evil, throwing them a bone just to claim it is a video game format. To no surprise, most of the items the player interacts with don’t matter at all and don’t serve any purpose either to foreshadow an upcoming outcome, present exposition to the world, or be in any way helpful.

The lack of superpower is not an issue here though. Before the Storm met the expectations with way more grace, proving that a story doesn’t need a lot of strange in life to grip and hold its audience for hours. Watching a superhero growing up is an interesting premise, but a hell of a challenge to execute and execute well. Some stories like “Little Man Tate” translate to a brilliant film, but don’t necessarily work as games, after the planning stage or first Game Design Document. The references regarding the first game also remain scattered and uneven, tossed on the pile with a heap of faith that devoted fans would notice, but without a purpose in mind.

Even if I sound harsh, I do believe that Dontnod wanted to deliver the best story possible, but Life is Strange 2 feels even too big to absorb or fill with details. Captain Spirit, not necessarily my cup of tea either, was in my opinion way more coherent, as the creative team felt more comfortable with such a small scope of a product. Everything falls into place after careful exploration, makes more sense with every minute. The mystery about the mother, an alumnus of Blackwell Academy, and an admirer of Jefferson’s work is a solid premise that didn’t raise expectations up the roof nor overpromise. The mystery of yet another mother, this time Life is Strange 2, played for over 3 and a half episodes, falls flat in comparison and ends in the disappointing question “that’s it?”

No, that’s not it. There’s more to it.

Life is Strange 1 was mocked as Tumblr: The Game, while the second instance could easily pass as Twitter: The Animated Series. The writers didn’t challenge themselves or the audience to answer the question of why certain people voted for Donald Trump, or why they would do it yet again. The only reason presented in the story is quite simplistic and obvious – because they are evil, deplorable people, not worth listening to. They are the worst. We are better. Issues of being harangued by foreigners about domestic policies and troubles of your own country are a brewing can of worms I wouldn’t like to touch at the moment. Still, this particular stance, which serves as painful generalization that every single republican voter in the US is foul, can be forged only by someone who either lives in a bubble or doesn’t live here at all. Simply because we all have parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, or co-workers who decided to elect the actual prescient to power. Some of them are racists, disgusting, and horrible personas, and some just belong to the scared of change, confused and manipulated crowd that don’t accept the fast-paced transformation nor the need for a revolution. We coexist together, arguing and fighting, especially during holiday breaks, but even if it costs me a headache, I wouldn’t call them evil. Millions of people voted for Trump, but only a few wouldn’t spit on a swastika if confronted with the Nazi banner.

It’s even more painful when you understand what kind of message was sewed into the stitches of a shattered story. There was no ill will, or at least I don’t think so, but an honest, genuine need to express the concern about modern America. Unfortunately, when executed, this concern changed into another yell or discourse by the family table during an argument with your racist uncle. An open discussion in a game community that unifies both left and right supporters equally by their love for this form of entertainment would be appreciated by many, just like after playing LIS1, a handful of people changed their views on LGBT issues.

Instead of a lesson that had to be experienced, we got a lecture about morality and tolerance, contradicting itself constantly and nonchalantly following the well-known tropes NOT in a sarcastic and admirable way known from Saturday Night Live, but in a lazy and sometimes even clumsy substitute of a dramatic format. The political landscape painted in LIS2 is caricatural, unforgiving, harsh like a deserted wasteland with a few peaceful oases to stop at, but shies over its own existence, not willing to thoroughly discuss the dreadful weather. Guess what? The sand won’t change into greener pastures only because you close your eyes, putting your imagination to work. Donald Trump might not be re-elected for a second term, but his supporters will stay in place, even more conflicted by the other side. It’s a brave decision to deliver such a punitive story but such a cowardice to break its pillars, hoping that the general public wouldn’t notice or get distracted when things get too heated up.

The lack of subtlety forced scene by scene is even more polarizing. There is no peaceful dialogue with the other side as if it couldn’t exist in this world. There is no change of heart or a path to do so. Sometimes it feels like the only message that LIS2 writers wanted to provide was to find your own, peaceful and liberal hermitage, either among hipsters in the Redwood forest, driving a car that your ‘family with money but no soul’ had bought you or move to a trailer park filled with artistic souls in Nowhere, Arizona. Any contact with the outside world can hurt you and your feelings. Drop off the grid or die. The end.

No discussion.

The efforts of trying to understand the motivation behind even the most dreadful character of the first game, got lost in preparation for the second. LIS2 builds a higher wall between two political sides, than any other game released after Trump became the president of the United States and desperately wants to keep it erected, ignoring the crumbling foundations of such. A proverbial river you shall not cross nor build bridges over since the only outcome would end up in death, destruction, or you and your young brother getting hurt.

I’m familiar with the discussion about LIS2, especially with a shouting match that if you do not like this instance, you are therefore a racist pig, a disgusting person without a soul, conscience, or working brain that doesn’t understand the situation and never will. On the contrary. In my humble opinion, we deserve a better discussion, better stories, better representation, not sticking to whatever is presented because it’s brave enough or was never approached before. I disagree with the stance that a Latino, bisexual main character is enough to close your eyes, omitting all problems that this title tries to shun, riding its high horse. No. Those topics are way too crucial to just walk past, setting for less with your head down, thanking for the game industry to take notice. You the player deserve better, even if you don’t struggle with specific issues on a daily basis. And after playing LIS2, you may feel so good about yourself, stating that an effort was made but it it wasn’t made enough.

I expected more. I wanted Dontnod to do more, and frankly, I feel silly putting so much faith in them and supporting their efforts. Armed with resources provided by Square Enix, I’m sure they are aware of the fact that most of their audience is quite young and wouldn’t mind a lesson or message about what to do amidst troubled times. Well, Dontnod doesn’t have any but warns you that voicing your opinion or being different may end up in disaster. Outraged, they just yell at the news, angry about what our reality has changed into, but nothing comes out of it. It’s all right, though. Our parents do the same thing. We started to do the same thing, but instead of complaining to family members, we have Twitter.

While Life is Strange 2 tries really hard to come across as a realistic and raw portrait of the US at the end of the decade, they didn’t have enough courage to show realistic obstacles two runaways would be faced with. The brothers do meet a handful of bigots and racists, but the rest of the fellow travelers help them beyond understanding or hidden agenda. Sean and Daniel never really struggle to find a place to stay or a warm meal, usually complaining on or off the screen just before the game mercifully provides them with a solution. There’s no trap they can fall into, no ambiguous characters that promise one thing and then demand something in return. It’s very honorable for Brody to pay for a place to stay, but if an adult man gave young kids a key to a motel room, I would consider a way more sinister outcome. It’s not even about Brody himself, since good people exist, just like the racist ones, but the boys not even once are put in a realistic, scary situation created by a supposed ally. If somebody is helpful, this person is always decent, offering them a job, a ride, some food or money. The bad people wear red hats and yell racist slurs. America by Dontnod is simple to navigate but raw and painful when not necessary and fairy-tale-like when it could teach an actual lesson. Running away from home is not so hazardous because of Trump supporters but because you can end up dead in a ravine, being robbed and raped. It’s not the first and surely not the last time when the developers feared to touch any topic of sexual abuse with a ten-foot pole, but then the journey plays more like a vacation than a desperate escape. Sean gets beaten-up a few times, loses his eye due to a brawl, but it doesn’t affect him at all in the long run. When Daniel finally gets kidnapped, it’s not an Epstein-like circle, dealing with human trafficking, but a religious cult that worships him. The first option, even if it feels like a stretch, is unfortunately way more realistic than the latter.

Preaching to the choir is not the biggest sin this game commits though. That brings me to the most discussed theme of the production, which is education.

With all due respect to the developers, writers, and designers, Life is Strange 2 in this aspect falls flat as a discovery of a Sunday father, who is responsible for taking his kid to the zoo and struggles to find any common ground with his offspring, either trying to crack jokes about famous pop-culture phenomena or talk about food discussing their next favorite meal. The said father is trying his best though, perfectly aware that it’s his only chance to teach his son a thing or two, but doesn’t know exactly where to start, torn apart between buying more ice cream and throwing a fit about a stain on the carpet. The father doesn’t even like kids that much and can’t translate his lessons into an engaging play that would be memorized forever, rolling his eyes and counting the days to his kid’s graduation so they could share a beer or two and talk about adult things. Now, any effort to explain how the world works seems to be in vain, therefore a waste of his precious time. Leaving the emotional approach aside, the father doesn’t have to cuddle with his kid when he’s scared, bullied, traumatized or asks millions of questions about the future or present, because the full-time mother is waiting at home willing to replace him in this duty. The mother, knowing that her ex-partner sucks big time at talking about feelings, will be the one who will hold the kid, patiently explaining that the boogieman does not exist, playing pirates, or stay late at night to distract his sorrows. The kid will never discuss his fears with his dad though, trying so hard to impress his male parent. He will never know, and it’s fine. The mother is going to do the job while he can deliver a once a week entertainment along with the lines of ultimate wisdom that most likely will be forgotten anyway.

This is not raising a kid, it’s nursing them like a fragile plant in a flowerpot, focusing on water, sun, and fertilizer, but discarding the emotional background, hoping that somebody else would take care of such issues if things go south.

Sean can’t raise his brother well, simply because he is immature and will stay immature for the rest of the game. There is no moment when he truly goes through a transformation changing from a boy to a man, a fully grown-up adult who takes responsibility for his actions and makes sacrifices for the sake of the greater good. No, surrendering in a fight in the church doesn’t serve as one, neither does the first sexual experience. He doesn’t wonder even once if the hastily constructed plan is benefiting Daniel, forcing it to the last minutes of the game, taking the separation as the worst thing that could happen. There’s no spark of a tragedy like in “The Road” when a father gives up his son to strangers for the sake of saving him. Sean doesn’t care, presenting no character development across the board, merely pushing forward. If there are doubts, they disappear in the blink of an eye when the next cut-scene takes place.

I understand that such a young lad as Sean wouldn’t know how to raise a kid, especially if having no model to rely on. However, a part of growing pains is developing the awareness that we know way less than we assumed. That said, Sean Diaz is always assuming he is right, not asking for advice regarding Daniel even once. Apparently, it’s not something that he’s interested in or ever will be. If Life is Strange 2 wants to pass as a coming of age story, it falls on its face before it even starts.

Moreover, locked in the auto-driven plot, Sean cannot grow up and gain a new perspective; otherwise, the story wouldn’t reach its big, explosion-packed finale of crossing the border. His desperate efforts of influencing his brother usually converge to order him around, feed him with half-truths or simply leave him in the dark when convenient. I didn’t see any difference or change in Sean’s approach from episode one when he scolded his brother, annoyed for his party plans being interrupted, and in episode three, when he reacts similarly, for the sake of spending time alone with the chosen love interest. There’s no deep thought, no wonder about his own wrongdoings expressed to his brother, no faults admitted, no fallacies explained, with one life-threating situation after another. From an illegal weed growing farm, to destroying police stations, Sean just follows the road, paved by the writers, oblivious to the harm done to his younger sibling, as if Daniel simply forgets the morally gray choices, growing his moral spine entirely on performing chores. Washing the dishes and peeling potatoes does not make us better people but understanding a perspective so different than our own does. Thanks to Sean, Daniel expands his world, but it’s a very one-sided perspective, focusing on always praised, hippie-style liberties, and disregarding every option that requires any code of conduct, as represented by the grandparents. While the older brother forces the younger one to keep up with the designed tasks, he never discusses the issues that really matter. In episode 3, the youngster gets involved in a heist, a robbery, but after it fails, costing Sean his eye and the possible death of some of their companions, this is never mentioned. Mexico, a plan that is hardly a plan at all, is supposed to be an answer to all the questions and doubts. El Dorado of knowledge.

This is not how you raise a dog, not to mention a child.

There is no emotional bond, no special ties between the brothers, except a few problematic moments that play mostly on simple connection forged by blood, not by circumstances. Sean worries about Daniel because he’s his brother, but the player starts to wonder quite quickly why and what for. Reminiscing about old times gets nailed down to a few lines about the comforts and amenities of a life long gone. The tough topics, such as grieving after personally witnessing their father’s death, are mentioned scarcely and without much emphasis, as if serving only as a reminder to the player, but not a poignant struggle. Same goes with the dog, their friends mutilated at the end of the weed farm chapter, Chris (aka captain spirit) who is mentioned just before the end credits of the second episode, and tons of others. On top of it, the scattered and not so often dialogue lines about putting people in danger refer only to the good folk, siding with the brothers, not to humankind in general. Killing a police officer or knocking down a gas station owner are just natural ways of how things work in America, honorable deeds since it’s apparently perfectly fine for a kid to attempt a homicide if people are mean.

What a brave story.

Chloe Price had been suffering for five years after William, her beloved father, died in a car crash. For Sean and Daniel, there is no grief to experience, but a memory to share with a plan to erect a monument in the future. Esteban Diaz is a plot device, a symbol of inequality, but not a family member. Even a dream sequence with his guest appearance lacks the impact of the subconscious conversations we’ve seen in Before the Storm. It just simply doesn’t matter.

I can’t believe I have to say this but the relatable part about LIS1 wasn’t the tornado, just like in LIS2 crossing the border is its weakest point, but it’s those small moments, gestures, quick smiles in passing, the atmosphere and a breath of fresh air when a line, sometimes silly, got dropped. In the most recent story, there is not a single line worth quoting, memorizing, or discussing. And please, don’t bring up “awesome possum” again. It’s literally taken from The Lego Movie song.

The brothers, just like Thelma and Louise, decide to leave everything behind, throwing away the life as they knew it and forging their own future despite all odds. Although, when the two desperate women drive off the cliff committing suicide, chased by the armed forces, there is nothing to explain as the audience fully understands their reasoning. Their will of life was strong, but the path they followed was too steep to return. Without any help or support, confronted with brutal honesty and the world’s cruelty around them, it is the best possible solution. The story of the two brothers, even if it tries to echo the iconic movie, couldn’t be more different. Despite resources at their disposal, family members that do care about their wellbeing, the whole community rising in protest in their hometown, they risk everything for the sake of getting back to the land they don’t even know. Their Mexican heritage is also mentioned just as an exposition, and, as we learn in the very last episode, just before the ending that Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish. So why do the stubborn Diaz brothers despite all odds travel to Mexico? Because.

Canada was too close, I guess.

Last but not least, let’s talk about sex, because why the hell not. A lot of fans or admirers of the previous instances howled across all social media about how much they miss Max and Chloe. I don’t really think it’s the case, but those two girls symbolize something that LIS2 has a tremendous problem with. There’s no emotional connection between the characters the brothers meet along the way, especially the ones that really should matter. Even the love interests feel more like nagging choices than anything else, an experiment during a camping trip, not something that would last or could be fantasized about. Instead of nerve-wracking decisions such as if you’re supposed to kiss Rachel, hold her hand, or the ecstatic discovery (for PriceFielders, but it was ecstatic, right?) that Chloe changed her phone’s background, we are instead presented with a lineup of sexual experiences, that maybe trail-blaze the road when it comes to topics tackled by a video game, but fall into obscurity as an emotional construction. There is no build-up between Sean and Finn as everything develops to a kiss in one conversation, and Cassidy has fewer lines than Victoria Chase before she invites Sean to her tent. We watch it as we watched it before, trying to get attached, feel something, but the only thing we remember was how much it touched us years ago when we played a different game but with a similar title. The sex scene, relatable or not, is stripped from the emotional intimacy and is as sensitively challenging as a dog being killed.

Character development doesn’t move an inch even if Sean, a surrogate father to his brother, lost his virginity to an older girl. There’s no single thought in his head that he might conceive his own offspring during this short but probably memorable experience. There’s not a single line except for the satisfaction of some female parts finally discovered. Oh, dashing explorer, will you ever learn?

It’s sad. I did want to like this game and gave it plenty of chances like no other titles ever. I’ve made excuses for the poor execution, technical problems, with the whiny voice acting that was driving me up the wall, plot twists written (I think) on a lunch break, and so on, but I couldn’t stand it. It’s a hard pass when it comes to a video game in general, not to mention the story, script, and everything else. Life is Strange season one; a low-budget production, was the first step to create a masterpiece that LIS2 might’ve been able to become. The second season didn’t learn much from LIS1’s mistakes, additionally exchanging the well-known beauty for a garbage fire, ignoring all the warning signs along the way. Delivering a story that tackles such important topics, it slides between the checkmarks on the board of issues, mentioning conversion therapy, religion, gayness, illegal immigration, and a spiral of crimes but never elaborating on any of them. There is no meat and potatoes presented on the plate of events, but just a sticky, sweet gravy with nothing underneath that leaves you not only hungry but frustrated, willing to call the chef and yell at the waiter. The trick is that unless you were living under a rock, there are tons of other productions in different media that give those themes justice, carefully unfolding all the aspects, giving voice to both sides. The fact that it’s the first video game having an affair with serious issues doesn’t matter. I don’t believe that anybody who consumes any kind of other media like decent books, movies, or TV shows can remain blind to the problems of Life is Strange 2, claiming it to be a good story. It’s not.

So here we are, girls, boys, and beyond. Life is Strange 2 with its broken mechanics, story, characters, and spirit slowly but surely will be forgotten. It’s Dontnod’s Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within that you might love to watch or play on your brand-new TV, despite what everybody else would say, omitting any valid or invalid criticism, but unfortunately, it won’t change the general optics about this particular piece of media. A lost chance or recklessness created a convoluted mess and with a heart beating in the wrong place. You might praise Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, get excited about it since it’s a free world, free country (and even if it’s not, no one will take this ersatz of such liberty) and don’t let anybody tell you what to love. The problem is, that most likely the only thing that people will remember about this production is that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck and the hair animation was dope. Everything else won’t matter.

The same thing goes, unfortunately, for Life is Strange 2, subtitle: The Spirits Without.

#life is strange 2 #review #honest #dontnod #square enix

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anneesfollesrpg · 4 years

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「READ ALL ABOUT IT!」

Word on the street is Années Folles is about to welcome a swath of new skeletons - and here’s the scoop! Below the cut, you’ll find a shortlist of our top twelve notions for new muses, as narrowed down by our voters. It was close! Once you’ve taken a look-see, members and passers-by alike, send us your TOP FIVE! That’s right, we’d love to hear from you! Consider the wondrous possibilities, then drop an ask with your favourite five in our eager inbox.

We do hope you’ve all had a fabulous Friday, and if you have any questions at all, about our application, our masterlist, or whatever else comes to mind, please don’t hesitate to inquire!

Sincerely yours, avec nos meilleures salutations… Admins Amy & Gray

And without further ado - our shortlist!

✺ THE ACTOR-MANAGER. performer Since childhood, you’ve barely gone a day without being under a spotlight. Leading a company through six plays a week certainly isn’t everyone’s idea of a worthwhile living; you, though, couldn’t ask for anything better. You’ve found real success in the rep system. It isn’t all reverence and professionalism, however - everyone likes having their ego fed, you as much as anyone. But where’s the harm in that if the audiences come rushing back night after night? And they do, just to see you. You’re a star, and you’ll make sure everyone damn well knows it, or else.

✺ THE BOOKWORM. public Naive, sheltered, dull. To most people, your quiet upbringing seems absolutely dreadful. But you managed, chiefly with the help of stories. You dove into all kinds of fantastic tales in your youth, only surfacing to eat, drink, or sleep when absolutely necessary. It’s these two things - a devotion to words and sheer force of will, that have landed you at the top of your classes at the Sorbonne, and goodness, are you thrilled. The insularity of the ivory tower suits you perfectly, and you’re determined to climb to the top. But now that you’re in Paris, will you take the opportunity to see what other stunning places your brain could take you, or choose to stay in your lane?

✺ THE BRUISER. rogue You knew it wouldn’t be easy to make it to the top of your game, but you’ve always been so sure you have what it takes, and nobody will ever convince you otherwise. You just need your shot, that’s all. As quick as one of your near-legendary jabs, as spectacular as your almost-infamous haymakers. You’re so, so close. And if it takes a few unsavory friends, a couple dark deeds, to go all the way… you’re willing. Or, at least, you thought you were. Sometimes, as you wrap your swollen knuckles for the next round, you can’t help but wonder if you’re getting in too deep. But the only way out is through, you figure. As true in life as in the ring. Anyway, there’s no backing out now. Is there?

✺ THE CONSERVATOR. public Art might not have been your first love, but your adoration for creativity has turned out to be a lifelong, vibrant affair. You came to Paris to be a part of all that, smiling giddily through your academy classes and plein air projects. It was in the halls of the Louvre that you found your calling, though. Winding through the wings, you saw more than inspiration on the walls and plinths. Every neglected artifact left you aching, every faded painting cut you to the quick. These masterworks needed caring for, the way you cared. With heart and soul. You’ve been looking after the museum’s pieces ever since, trying to mend what you can, to create a collection that honours the fullness of human expression, as you understand it. As you love it. As you hope others will, for generations.

✺ THE DEBUTANTE. psociety New things are more normal to you than the heady combination of champagne and small-talk – oh, and the admiring gazes of others, of course. The jewel of the family, your light, almost dotty demeanor has left all who meet you intoxicated with your charisma. Underneath the giggles and sweetness, however, you possess a real head for human nature and a ferocious determination to get what you want. Despite your youth, you know you’re destined for great things –and you’re ready to charm, cajole, and manipulate whoever you have to in order to achieve those goals.

✺ THE DREAMER. public The night skies over gay Paris aren’t the only sight full of stars - so’s your bar! Every night, you mix drinks and swap gossip with the Bal’s fabulous patrons, pouring champagne for kings and queens, basking giddily in the glow of the only celebrities you much care to mind. They’re your family - and your inspiration. Ever since you discovered the city’s bright, queer corners, you’ve known your destiny. You’re meant to be under the stagelights, like your idols: perfectly poised as the curtain rises, ready to face your adoring fans. In the meantime, being close enough to pass their glasses and pick up their tricks is almost enough. You just have to work up the nerve to try. You’ll get there. Someday.

✺ THE EMCEE. performer By night, you conduct the revels of the Bal with scintillating style, a master of ceremonies non-pareil. By day, you manage a host of well-made investments with gracious aplomb and entrepreneurial acuity. You’ve built something, in Paris; under your sheltering wings, your community doesn’t merely survive, but thrives, joyful and growing. These days, you’re popular far beyond your milieu - a pillar of the city, patron and artist all at once. And you throw a hell of a party, of course.

✺ THE NEWSIE. public Stories are powerful things; few appreciate that fact so much as you, for stories are your passion, and your bread and butter besides. A staple of some of the finest magazines and papers in the city, you’re out at all hours - chasing leads, asking quick, clever questions, and taking in every tale the City of Lights has to offer, from the strange to the everyday, whispered in the salons of the spectacularly wealthy, laughed about on the humblest street corners, scrounged from every end of town. Meaning you’re never short of work, for sure!

✺ THE PRETENDER. rogue Mother Russia was never kind, and you weren’t at all confident that the so-called glorious revolution would change that. So you took what you could carry - and you chose well, picking gems from the ruins of the aristocracy you once served - and ran. Sure, maybe you’re a pessimist, but at least you’re alive to tell the tale. Or, a tale, anyway. It’s become such a spectacular story, growing ever grander with each recitation, thrilling your new, unlikely friends, here in the highest echelons of Parisian society. None of whom seem to have noticed the holes in your plot, the slip-ups you pass off as the lingering effects of shock and melancholy. The truth is, you stumbled into a new life, a sweet life - someone else’s life, paid for with their own prize jewels and your silver tongue. Can you keep the ruse going, or will your secrets cost you everything?

✺ THE PROFESSOR. society When people look at you, the images that most often spring to mind are those of steadiness and reliability. In your years within the walls of the Sorbonne, you’ve had a life that engenders envy. A life entirely dedicated to scholastic endeavour has been more than adequate for you, and now, you’re ready to reap some of the benefits. You have some time on your hands and need a new research project. Perhaps some of the colorful characters around the city that you hear whispered about could help you. They make your colleagues shiver, these bohemians, but something about that intrigues as well as terrifies you.

✺ THE RETAINER. public Unlike all the shining lights in Paris these days, your greatest skill isn’t your charm, or star quality, but the very opposite; for years now, you’ve blended expertly into the wallpaper at every society event, your razor-sharp attention to detail meaning that your employers’ dinner, or their perfect outfit, or much-needed glass of wine appear as if by magic , almost before they’ve even thought of any such needs, wants, and whims for themselves. Proud as you are of your professionalism, lately you’ve been feeling different. Antsy. Exasperated. Bitter. So many years of listening on the outside of the conversations of the rich and famous. You almost want to do something about it. But what?

✺ THE VISIONARY. artist More than half of the hottest houses in this town owe their beauty to your brilliance, if you do say so yourself. Angularity, glitz, and above all modernity are what wake you up in the morning. Lately, Paris seems like a wonderful place to be waking up to. Every week, there’s a new trend around the corner - some element of theatrical design transmitted into the home, or a new, clever convenience the public is desperate to have. It’s a little scary - you’d hate to fall even a little bit behind. But, God, is it intoxicating too. The world is looking more modern than ever, and the people are clamouring to embrace the mechanized, the sleek, and the new, in seemingly every form. Your job is simple. Keep dreaming, keep creating, and keep ahead of the curve.

Don't forget to toss your top five along! We can't wait to stack up the votes.

#skeleton rp #period rp #original rp #lsrp #new rp #af.admin

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theculturedmarxist · 4 years

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By Anis Shivani, whose recent political books include Why Did Trump Win?, Confronting American Fascism, and A Radical Human Rights Solution to the Immigration Problem. He is the author of many critically-acclaimed books of fiction, poetry, and criticism, including, most recently, A History of the Cat in Nine Chapters or Less

Forcing the March 17 primaries in Florida, Arizona and Illinois to go forward, despite reports of exceedingly low turnout throughout the day (which miraculously and quite expectedly turned into higher turnouts than 2016 in both Florida and Arizona by the time the final reporting came in), was the last straw. This farce occurred despite the Ohio governor postponing their primary on the same day. This slap in the face of voters was then compounded by the even worse parody of the April 7 Wisconsin primary being allowed to go ahead at the peak of the pandemic, with polling stations vastly reduced (from 180 to just 5 in Milwaukee alone) and absentee ballots often not received or recorded, while maintaining the pretense that somehow all of this constituted a legitimate election.

In the middle of the pandemic, with the entire nation considering a de facto lockdown and many communities already there, the DNC was hell-bent on driving the final nail in the coffin of the youth movement, even though the Sanders campaign had suspended GOTV efforts, for obvious reasons, and even if Biden never really had a presence in any of the latest round of states.

In Maricopa County, Arizona, where many polling stations were shut down, in-person turnout was reportedly higher by 10,000 people than in 2016! And that’s just one representative example from the March 17 primary states. Furthermore, the DNC threatened the remaining primary states against postponing their elections for health reasons, preempting moves similar to those made by Louisiana, Georgia and others. The stage is being set for a virtual convention, followed by the possible resurgence of the illness in the fall to orchestrate a virtual general election. Social distancing has come in handily as the most convenient antidote to political solidarity. Biden has already made it clear that he’s not the least bit interested in making any real overtures toward bereft progressives, just as Hillary wasn’t after her forceful seizure of the nomination in 2016.

When they stopped counting the vote in Iowa, depriving the leading candidate of essential momentum, it was a clear indication that once again the party establishment would do everything to manipulate results in favor of yet another neoliberal avatar bound to lose to Trump in an ignominious landslide—which is actually what the Democratic party establishment wants, four more years of their demonized opponent rather than the tiniest return toward social decency. Nothing about the coronavirus changes this essential dynamic.

That’s how bad the Democratic party has become, blatantly tipping the scales toward their favored outcome in order to maintain oligarchic control, and they expect us to Vote Blue No Matter Who?

We’re asked to believe that the candidate who supported ordinary people at the grassroots level all across the country, by lending crucial support to strikesand direct action, spawning innumerable viable candidacies at the local and state levels, and regularly summoning many thousands of people to populist rallies calling for basic human decency, was easily defeated by a cognitively challenged Wall Street shill who has backed every economic and foreign policy barbarity of the last 50 years, and who cannot be put in a small gym with a few dozen people without descending into furious spittles of verbal aggression.

We’re supposed to trust that the candidate with a pervasive national presence for the last five years was suddenly, in a matter of 72 hours, annihilated by the geezer who had zero volunteers, staff or advertising in any of the states he miraculously turned around by 20, 30 or 40 points.

It’s time to put an end to this sham, because we can’t accede to this level of duplicity without ourselves becoming complicit in the madness. Trump essentially terminated the neoliberal Republican party in one election cycle, but because the Democratic party establishment is more entrenched and dangerous, the prime carrier of the neoliberal virus to which the Republicans are just accessories, it is the more difficult enemy to beat.

To recap some of what we have seen from the great minds trying to herd us all into submission toward Hillary 2.0, the dementia version:

· Herd 29 Trojan horses into the race, all pretending to be some version of or alternative to the clear ideological victor from 2016, and all of them unmasking themselves at appropriate stages of the race (three of them at the last moment before South Carolina) in order to maximize damage to one candidate alone.

· Insist on a series of parodic debates orchestrating various degrees of hostility toward the lone populist, and focusing outlandish attention on marginal candidates rather than giving the front-runner his due.

· Engineer the Iowa vote-counting catastrophe without anyone taking responsibility, and DNC chair Tom Perez not only not resigning but feeling empowered to engender further chaos.

· Repeat all the instances of voter suppression in close simulation of all the 2016 states, as if to thumb their noses at any semblance of voting integrity.

· Be part of closely coordinated media campaigns harping on electability, centrism and moderation, to the point where the liberal media (the Times, CNN, MSNBC) become indistinguishable from campaign opponents and the party apparatus. For the first three months of the year, the New York Times turned into a chorus of single-minded “Never Bernie” propaganda, exceeding even their “Never Trump” loathing of four years ago.

· Recruit Barack Obama to save Biden’s hide when he remained the last one standing, with the same ominous figures from 2016 (Jim “there will be no free education” Clyburn, Harry “get the culinary workers to caucus for Hillary” Reid, and others) reprising to the finest detail the same walk-on bits they played last time.

· Keep changing debate rules, by permitting entry to a last-minute white knight in the form of Michael Bloomberg, and the more recent rule change to prevent Tulsi Gabbard the opportunity of taking down Biden.

· Keep the option of cheating the delegate leader at the convention alive throughout the campaign, rather than stamping it out as a no-go in order to preserve the credibility of primary voting.

· Express no displeasure at clear voter suppression in Texas and California, or curiosity about strange exit poll versus final results in Virginia, Massachusetts, Maine and Minnesota, which showed unprecedented swings toward Biden.

Is this enough manipulation for you?

Sanders more than abided by party decorum for the last four years. Ever since he endorsed Hillary Clinton in 2016, and later yielded to Chuck Schumer’s request to join the senate leadership, he has been the most faithful of team players, observing every nicety and going along with the party line to the extent that there is no direct contradiction with his principles. The least he could have expected in return was a token amount of fair play, to let his social welfare philosophy compete on equal grounds with neoliberalism, yet this was vehemently denied.

At this point, is he obligated to play by the rules? Are we, if we are to draw obvious conclusions from the evidence at hand?

The Democratic party would much rather see Trump reelected by nominating a flawed neoliberal candidate with as much baggage and who is as associated with the recent Clinton failure as is Biden. Think about it: the party we’re supposed to get behind actually prefers fascism over the mildest concessions to social democracy, in order that the entire power structure might persist unchanged. For the sake of denying the slightest help to poor, debt-burdened, sick and unemployed people, this party would rather have untrammeled white nationalism, immigrants in concentration camps, and accelerated income inequality, as though we could sustain any more of it than we already have.

To defeat a handful of broadly popular proposals to address economic inequality, the Democratic party facilitated the entry of a former Republican mayor who administered the harassment of Muslims and minorities after 9/11, who gave over his city to unaccountable developers and oligarchs, and who happens to be the world’s ninth-richest person—not just a billionaire, of the kind Sanders is railing against, but one 60 times over.

And when that didn’t fly, because of said plutocrat’s manifest misogyny, racism and class privilege, they went back to their original choice, the freewheeling politico Wall Street loves to love, the senator from MBNA, the secret manipulator behind every bad trade deal and Wall Street giveaway and incarceration mania and war of choice of the last 50 years. The party Sanders has chosen to be loyal to knows that either of those candidates, the Manhattan multi-billionaire or the Delaware political enabler, would handily lose to Trump, but the idea is to keep playing the game, to engage us all in a performance that pretends to be even-handed. We wait patiently for health care and public education and a living wage, while we die in the meantime.

The party of death has demonstrated again and again in this primary campaign that its sole objective is to discredit left populism, even if it means abetting the growing dominance of fascist populism. The party we’re supposed to fall behind is the real facilitator, not the Republican party, because it is actively preventing an electable alternative to Trump, as shown in all the polls of the last five years.

The “woke” wing of the Democratic party—which is identical to the neoliberal wing in acting all high-and-mighty toward working-class folks, otherwise known as deplorables—precisely duplicated its machinations from 2016, when Hillary Clinton was said to be the victim of the angry Bernie Bros, a more ridiculous myth than which was never heard in a presidential campaign.

The woke crowd, who universally refused to support Sanders (whose campaign is a sincere homage to the Poor People’s Campaign run by Martin Luther King, Jr., or FDR’s economic bill of rights, or Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society program), got behind a series of identity politics-driven candidates, culminating in the last one to leave the race, who immediately got busy gaslighting the Sanders movement for its alleged misogyny. The woke wing was a fraud all along, they never did care to help actual working people with actual debilities. We knew it in 2016 and we know it even better now.

All the fallacies the Democratic party has exploited over five decades reached an extreme form of hypocrisy in the 2020 campaign. The least electable candidates were professionally sold as the most electable ones. Extremism on behalf of inequality and deprivation of basic human rights was packaged as moderate centrism. Sustained media campaigns were run against anyone questioning these straitjackets of thought, labeling us enemies of the people for wanting to help the people.

Emerging from his year-long sloth, Biden made it his mission to trash every element of Sanders’s “political revolution,” even in its most benign demands for a level playing field, which was the sum of the political gangsterism he so adeptly deployed at the March 15 debate, knowing he had the full backing of the party in shunning any move toward the kind of universal programs young voters demand.

Would Sanders supporters not be justified in abandoning this zombie party once and for all, if we do not end up with a fair electoral outcome, as it looks like we’re not going to while this primary fizzles out to an uncertain close? Are we not morally obligated to look for an alternative beyond, past and around this failed shell of a party?

In 2004 and again in 2016 they ran empty, fake, invisible campaigns once the primaries were over, with John Kerry and Hillary Clinton literally disappearing from the campaign trail for weeks at a time. They’d rather have Bush reelected then, and Trump reelected now, than raise the minimum wage to $15, make public college free again, or do something to save the planet from its runaway environmental crisis. While Sanders was responding like FDR II to address the public health emergency, Biden was nowhere to be seen.

We learned during this campaign that the all-time great woke candidate beloved of the wine cave class, namely the president upon whose nostalgic fumes we wish to resurrect a ghostly figure, is more willing than anyone else to stop the first stirrings of social democracy and do everything he can to maintain the chokehold of neoliberalism or neofascism.

The clarion call issued by the “Democratic” president of surveillance, wars, deportation and budget cuts appealed to the lowest instincts of career politicians in South Carolina and across the country as they forcefully jerked us back to where we were supposed to stay. This former president, like the recent troop of candidates, is explicitly against Medicare for All, and every other basic demand this moment of social distress cries out for. Biden and his cronies in the party are willing to go no further than trying to add a public option to the Affordable Care Act; even after the virus escalation, universal programs of the kind Sanders’s movement calls for are nowhere within range of their consideration.

The Democratic party wants to crush the joy and life out of youth, pretending that they don’t come out to vote, and that the entire machinery of politics should be aimed at keeping the country delicately balanced between one half meritocrats and one half deplorables, appealing to a minute number of antiquated voters in Ohio and Florida in order to maintain policy stasis. They gaslight us into thinking that actual social justice aspirants of diverse races and backgrounds, rather than the fake white woke influencers, are the real problem because of our hostility. They impose “party unity” and discipline in the service of continuing the very power structure that has given us unsustainable debt and unaffordability of basic human conveniences. When confronted by enthusiastic participation in Democratic primaries, mainly the responsibility of one Bernard Sanders of Vermont, they counter with the embodiment of the darkest hells of plutocracy, namely Michael Bloomberg. As expected, they have already used the coronavirus crisis to shut down any remaining trace of political idealism, because in this moment of emergency we cannot expect anything better than to bow down to the former president’s faithful old lapdog.

The Democratic party of 2020, after more than 50 years of succumbing to a murderous form of capitalism, is not just a flawed vehicle for any sort of political renaissance. Why should we legitimize them by leaping around their phantom carousel, wearing colorful costumes and clown hats on the fairgrounds, when they won’t give us a ticket, when they tear it up if we do have one, and when there’s always a guard hanging around to bash our skulls in case we utter a cry of joy at some little win?

They are all but compelling us to leave the party. Will we have the imagination to do so at last in a mass exodus?

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florrickandassociates · 4 years

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TGF Thoughts: 3x08-- The One Where Kurt Saves Diane

I wrote this over the span of, like, a full year and it is not very interesting. I am posting it simply because I am committed to the idea of writing something about every episode of this series. I recommend that you go check out Evil instead of reading this.

I’m just not intrigued by the clips of news footage about some sort of “Unredacted Unspecified Report” that open this episode.

Diane doesn’t seem to be that interested either: she’s not watching and talks over it.

More interesting (but, tbh, not actually that interesting to me either, because I’m losing interest in this season) is that Diane gets a letter of warning from a ~mysterious source~.

Most interesting of all: Diane and Kurt have a normal morning together.

Kurt spots the letter first and opens it. STOP DIANE. THEY KNOW ABOUT THE HACK. So maybe it’s directed at Kurt. Or maybe it’s supposed to say, “Stop, Diane.”

I still haven’t warmed to Diane’s bedroom set, especially because it still feels like Diane lives in her bedroom and her home has no other rooms.

Joy, Felix Staples has returned. All I have to say about this case is that the day this ep aired, basically what’s happening in this case happened in real life, because… Kings.

Hello, it’s October now and I suddenly felt like returning to The Good Universe and writing. It’s been a while.

My memory of this episode/arc is that Diane and Liz just did something uncharacteristically dumb and illegal, and this is the episode where Kurt secretly puts an end to the shenanigans without Diane even knowing. I remember this episode being satisfying, if only because it got rid of the aforementioned dumb and illegal plot. Let’s see how good my memory is.

Wait why don’t I remember Roger Bart being on this show and why didn’t I note it earlier?! How could I let George The Killer Pharmacist go unmentioned?!

On that note, how did I not use the opening scene of the season (Diane saying “I’m happy” as an excuse to ramble about how weird it is to experience happiness on a personal level in today’s world?) (I was just watching 3x01.)

I’m actively not watching the case scenes so they don’t kill my drive to actually write this.

Oh God, I’m going to have to deal with Blum again at some point. I had blocked out his bloviating. I think this is the last of the Blum/Maia free eps?

The weird Lucca/British actor plot is still happening!!!! I didn’t miss it during all those months in which I wasn’t reminded of it.

The joke about how these TV lawyers aren’t like other TV lawyers, except they are, was funny the first time.

Always great to see how Lucca, who is the head of a department at this point, gets called into other cases frequently. Definitely how things work.

Is it bad that I’m more interested in making a mental list of all the times TGF/TGW have filmed in this little park than this Marissa/Alan Alda scene?

I can see why this is the episode that made me stop writing these for a bit. So far, this ep is all case and a subplot I don’t care for.

You know what else was funny the first time and has hit a point of diminishing returns? The thing where a main character’s love interest shows up in court and then they get thrown off their game and it’s CUTE FLIRTING!!! Find a new, unique way to signal interest, writers!

This gag now involves literal gagging. I’m overjoyed.

Lucca’s monologuing at a toilet about her crush. This plot is cute. It isn’t bad. It is watchable. BUT! I know it’s a novelty, so I’m just not that excited by it or invested in it. It’s not really deepening my understanding of Lucca.

Lucca picturing everyone in court in their underwear is just unnecessary and honestly not funny???

Kurt leaves the warning note out for Diane to see. He confronts her about it and she asks for a drink.

The credits are at 19 minutes in. I do love them. Have any of you watched Evil yet? I watched part of the first episode (I intend to go back to it, I’ve just been busy) and the credits resemble the TGF credits. (Update as of March 2020: I watched all of Evil and you should too.)

Diane tells Kurt about Book Club or #Resistance or whatever I was calling it. Even though Diane doesn’t tell him the full story (mostly for his own protection, and she makes it clear she’s omitting stuff), I do appreciate that Diane and Kurt don’t keep secrets from each other, and if/when they do, they talk about it openly and calmly. I love them.

(I have blocked out Kurt/Holly almost entirely. I know it’s canon, but I still don’t believe it was anything other than a plot device to motivate some unnecessary drama in the TGW finale. God, that finale was bad. Ghost Will? Kurt cheating? GENEVA and Peter? GHOST WILL? Even the slap, which is one of my favorite parts, is more powerful as a symbol than as an actual plot development, since (1) Alicia betraying Diane is something Pilot!Alicia would’ve done to any friend to protect her family and (2) it stems from the nonsense about Kurt cheating and Peter tampering with evidence. What a letdown of a finale. The Kings are lucky they got to redeem themselves with TGF.)

(As anyone who’s had a one-on-one convo with me about the TGW finale at any point in the last three years will tell you, I will NEVER tire of discussing it, even if it means rehashing the same points over and over and over.)

I forgot about the thing where it wouldn’t stop storming in season 3.

Don’t have much to say about Kurt devising a plan to help Diane get out of trouble, but I do find it very fun!

OOOOH this is the episode about censorship that got censored!!! If you haven’t already, do read Emily Nussbaum’s piece about the behind-the-scenes drama of this episode. I thought the “this content has been censored” screen where the short would have been was a joke… but it was actually censored. That may be the most interesting thing about this episode.

I want more character-driven plots. I want more Liz and Lucca. I have nothing to say.

Book Club still believes the con artist who brought them together is something other than a con artist. Book Club is not that smart for being a collection of very smart people.

“So the whole group is bullshit?” Liz asks when Diane loops her in. Yes. But also, like, this is what happens when you do illegal shit with a group formed by a literal con artist. Liz may have an excuse for trusting the group (Diane brought her in), but why does DIANE trust them?

“My life is simple, Diane. I have a son. I have a mortgage. I have my job. And I go from home to work and work to home. So this stuff is, this bullshit intrigue… I’m done. Too much drama,” Liz laments, about a week too late. Where was this last week when Liz was like YES LET’S DO CRIMES?

One of my problems with the whole Book Club arc is that it makes very little sense that Liz would get involved in the first place. I understand why she would be sympathetic to their cause and willing to look the other way on their methods… if she were watching a news report about them on TV. She’s too practical, and has too much to lose, to get involved with a group like this.

An NSA nerd is back!! He’s the one warning Diane!

Okay, picking this back up in March 2020 because *gestures at the world* I have time. Like, I have so much free time I’ve finished 9 books in the last 14 days AND finally made it to the episodes of The Sopranos with JMargs. I began watching The Sopranos in 2017.

As I write this, I have no idea if TGF is coming back on April 9th as planned or not. Unless there’s something in the works for season 4 that can’t possibly be left unfinished or air today, I think they should air whatever they have now. TGF is always timely, and while scenes set in an office are suddenly feeling weird and implausible, they’ll probably play better now than in six months. And we’d all forgive the writers if they had to wrap up the arcs through an animated recap song.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the TGF credits so I rewound to watch the credits. I went to 2 minutes into the episode, then remembered… they’re 20 minutes in.

Y’all. They blow up a purse with hand sanitizer in it. Did they predict this?!

I wrote that preamble and then stopped writing. But now we know that TGF is really coming back on April 9th, which means I have to stop watching The Sopranos and write these things!

Ah, Felix Staples. I haven’t missed you!

Case stuff happens. Really riveting episode, this one. (It is an interesting case, though.)

Kurt saving Diane is pretty fun. But I don’t have anything to say about it and to write about it would just to be to give a half-assed play by play… and why?

Oh WOW, Lucca and Downton Abbey guy is still happening?!

Getting to see Kurt be really competent and caring is the best thing, by far, about the Book Club arc.

Wait, I take that back, Liz’s speech about voter suppression is also pretty high up there-- as long as you ignore the context.

V excited (!!) to get back to Maia’s bullshit in the next few episodes, not because I want to watch it but because if there’s one thing I’m actually motivated to write about, it’s how the show has handled Maia Rindell. Also, they handle the next few episodes well for her.

Oh RIGHT Liz tells ChumHum about her dad’s sexual harassment issues! And Adrian and Liz are finally going to tell the press! It may mean losing Neil Gross, though.

Book Club is over! Wooooooooooooooooooooo! On to more interesting things!!!

Also gone? Downton Abbey guy, who gave an interview about something new and exciting in his life. Lucca thought he was talking about her, and he was talking about some...personality test that sounds like a cult from the way he describes it? AAAAAND I Googled it and yup. It is. What a goofy ending to this arc I didn’t care about. Reminds me of the way the Marilyn arc ended (with a cameo from a celebrity who she was supposedly sleeping with). Glad the actor was so game to poke fun at himself, but is this the best we can do for Lucca?

Diane thinks she took care of the hack and made it go away. Kurt lets her take the credit.

The end!

#the good fight #is coming back soon!!!!#tgfthoughts #yes i still check this thing

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years

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Chapter 3: Sleight

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities.

After surgery, Natasha was wheeled into a private room at NYP/Weill Cornell Medical Center, and once it had been made clear she would make a full recovery, Bucky called a meeting.

Five plastic chairs situated around the bed; every pair of eyes narrowed; each mind determined. Out of all the potential outcomes, none of them could have anticipated this, and it wasn’t just because Steve had chosen to defend himself.

Natasha was dutiful, cautious, and extremely versatile. She’d carried more than her fair share of the water and had never shirked or shied away from any of the endless lists of tasks and responsibilities they’d given her. Over the years, she’d become the Queen in their metaphorical game of chess, was welcomed and respected in every territory, and was often the envoy, enforcer, and enticer. She was integral to the Families and invaluable to Bucky.

She’d also never been injured this badly before and that put them all on edge.

“How did this happen?” Wanda inquired quietly.

Thor grunted, “We know how it happened.”

“We need to focus more on the why instead of the how,” Tony remarked.

Clint nodded in agreement, “If I’m being honest, I was glad to hear he’d returned, but now…”

As comptroller, Maximoff was most concerned with finances. Odinson, in his capacity as recruiter, was having trouble getting the fresh meat to settle down. Stark made sure law enforcement on their payroll turned a blind eye to Steve’s return, but this had drawn a lot of attention, and as a result, Barton had been forced to place a temporary hold on all incoming and outgoing product.

One thing they could all agree on was that the matter needed to be approached with even more caution. They still didn’t know the whereabouts of the deceased senator’s wife, nor the motivation behind Steve’s aiding in her escape. Bucky had assumed he’d returned for the funeral, but whether or not that was his primary reason for staying in town was unknown. Nevertheless, Bucky admitted he’d made the mess, and told them he would clean it up.

Clint was tactful when he pointed out they’d tried it his way and it hadn’t gone well. When Bucky asked for suggestions, Thor threw out the obvious option of having someone else finish the job. Wanda alternatively asserted that if he intended to let Steve live, he needed to be placated. Tony decreed it was best to keep enemies close and that Bucky should simply seduce him. Clint recommended backing off and giving Steve a wide berth for the time being.

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. While everyone continued to discuss how best to resolve the brewing conflict, he averted his attention to Natasha, who had woken up mid-way through the conversation. If anyone had the right to an opinion, it was her, and when he held up his hand for silence, everyone quieted down.

“Natasha?” Bucky prompted.

“Use him,” she rasped. “Make him an ally again.”

He’d never considered bringing Steve back into the fold, but it was the most practical way to resolve things. As the Families had never formally voted him out, he technically still had a seat at the table, and could return to it at any time. If Steve did return, things would change, but adjusting parameters and expectations wasn’t the issue.

Steve was a natural leader and would’ve been Boss had he not left. Loyalty and tribute were given and paid to the Families as a whole, but Steve inspired a level of fanaticism and devotion that Bucky just could not replicate. Though the title alone commanded respect, Bucky knew some considered him a placeholder; there were big players who’d been waiting for Steve to return, and if he was welcomed back, there would be a power shift. Even though Steve had never expressed a desire to run things, it was a mantle Bucky, if pressured, would be forced to let him have.

War and peace, love and hate, progress and tradition – they were often two sides of the same coin, one that had been flipped many times over many generations. As head of the Families, it was left to Bucky whether or not to toss it in the air again, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It was a gamble, a fifty-fifty chance, and he wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed playing the odds. He tried to look for a clear outcome, but the tide kept shifting, the waters were murky, and he couldn’t yet see in which direction the wind would blow.

“We tried the stick,” Wanda gently reminded him. “Let’s see if the carrot fares better. I’ll reach out.”

Bucky inclined his head, “Very well.”

With the decision made, the others departed, but Bucky remained. He scooted his chair closer to the bed and when Natasha held out her hand, he took it. She’d been hooked up to an intravenous analgesia pump, but had yet to use the medicine, and that meant both her grip and her words were fierce.

“Whatever you do, don’t fuck with him,” she warned. “I don’t know what Steve’s up to, but I can tell he’s changed, and he’s dangerous. You watch your six, you hear me?”

“I’ll be as careful as I can be.”

“Have you said anything to the press?”

Bucky hummed noncommittally, “They believe it was an attempted robbery gone wrong.”

Natasha nodded, let go of his hand, and depressed the button to release the morphine, “Good. Now, go away – you got shit to do and I need rest.”

If anyone else had dismissed and dictated to him like that, Bucky would have broken their jaw, but since it came from Natasha, he just smiled. Even with a foot dangling over the grave, she still busted his balls, and because she was the only real and true friend he had, he didn’t fight her.

The drive back to the penthouse was a slow one because of traffic and when he finally pulled into the private parking garage, he was exhausted, irritated, and starved. The guard at the desk greeted him politely and Bucky waved back. It was a quick, smooth ascent to the top floor, and when the elevator doors parted, he stepped into the foyer, and was greeted by an unexpected albeit not entirely unwelcome visitor.

“In the span of twenty-four hours, you’ve botched a takedown and you let me get the drop on you,” Bruce stated blithely. “Didn’t I tell you to change the security code after I installed the system?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gestured toward the kitchen, “What do you have for me?”

Bruce tossed a folder onto the island’s marble countertop and gave him a rundown on Steve’s activities. The man was good at keeping a low profile, but he was able to piece together some of what Steve had been up to while he was away, and squeeze a bit of information out the people who’d been helping him stay under the radar since his return.

“Steve is independently wealthy now, but where the money came from is a mystery,” Bruce informed him. “If the olive branch Wanda plans to extend involves cash, it’ll be useless. He’s got holdings and properties both in this country and abroad. I can’t find any red flags and it all appears to be legit.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and opened the fridge, “And the plot thickens.”

“Sam admitted he stopped in, but wouldn’t give details on what was purchased,” Bruce explained as he accepted a beer with a nod of thanks. “But knowing what Wilson keeps in that back room, Rogers is probably armed to the teeth.”

He flipped through the photos and the intel, “I want to know who else he’s visited and where he’s holed up. And find out where he’s hiding that fucking widow.”

“He knows how to avoid being seen, so, it’s not an easy task. It’s going to take time and cash.”

“Money you can have,” Bucky told him as he headed for the living room.

Bruce followed and sipped his beer while Bucky keyed in the combination to the wall safe. Once it was opened, he collected a few stacks, and handed them over.

“Grease palms and keep digging,” Bucky insisted.

“Will do.”

If anyone could find a needle in a haystack, it was Bruce, and Bucky knew he could rely on him to get it done. The man was a genius with a mind that absorbed and retained information like a sponge. Publicly, he put his Ph.D. to good use via publications and giving lectures at various universities; privately, he helped the Families by being a shadow in the world of data collection. Skeletons in closets, economic shifts, voter mindsets, new product on the street, backroom deals, who was getting up to what behind closed doors – Bruce knew it all, and on the off chance he didn’t, he always managed to find out.

Bruce tucked the money away, tossed the bottle into the recycle bin, and as Bucky escorted him out, he strongly urged him to reset the alarm code. As soon as the door was shut, he did just that, and went back to the living room.

Exhausted down to his bones, he plopped down on the couch, loosened his tie, and kicked off his shoes. Cellphone in hand, he mulled over what to order for dinner, and after he decided on Italian, he closed his eyes, and settled back into the cushions. He must’ve nodded off for a moment, because when the doorbell rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered as he rushed for the door.

Bleary-eyed and absentminded, Bucky didn’t check to see if it was actually his food delivery, and within seconds, he was made to regret it.

He saw the fist that barreled toward his face, but wasn’t fast enough to block it or duck out of the way. Bucky was hit with such force that his head snapped back and he fell right down onto his ass.

Blood gushed from his mouth and nose and the copper-flavored taste rolled over his tongue and slid down his throat. There was only one person in the world who could ring his bell like that, and when he looked up from his prone position on the floor, he cursed.

“Hello, JB,” Steve deadpanned. “Mind if I come in?” Chapter 4: Erstwhile

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

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innuendostudios · 5 years

Video

youtube

We hit 200k subscribers! Holy heck! Here’s a small, celebratory video collecting my favorite bits and pieces that got cut from other videos.

If you like this, or the videos these bits were removed from, consider backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

The Artist is Absent

If I tell you about what I did yesterday, you do what? You take a bunch of sights, sounds, tastes, smells from your experience and stick them together in your head into a complex picture of my experience? Well, that’s what I’m doing when I use my memory. I don’t have a prefab image of what’s happened to me in my life that I break down into pieces when I describe it to you; the act of remembering is building up from pieces, reconstructing reality from a mass of tiny sensations, and all a memory is is a set of instructions for which ones to assemble and how. This act is performed every time a thing is remembered. And the difference between my memory and your imagination is that, having lived it, I have way more sense memories than I could ever communicate, and the knowledge that mine actually happened to me. Those are really the only differences; you could characterize memory as “imagining things that actually happened,” or imagination as “remembering things that didn’t.”

The Artist is Absent 2

OK, quickie sidebar on what the meaning of “meaning” is in this context. I don’t want anyone to trip over this term and think I’m saying all art is part of some grand design, like I’m going to argue The Avengers is an allegory for the Bay of Pigs or something. I’m not using “meaning” in a lofty sense. If you wanna argue that the only substance to The Avengers is “it’s fun,” that’s cool. That’s still a meaning, but it’s perfectly valid if that’s all there is to it.

...I mean, that’s not all there is to it, it’s also about family, and about how being in a family with people who are different from you can make you a better person. It can teach you the value of selflessness, or the value of compassion over mercenary coldness, or the value of accepting yourself and your flaws, or help you fit your idealism into the modern world, or… deliver exposition, because Thor doesn’t have an arc in this movie.

But you see my point! All I mean by “meaning” is that there is an answer to the question, “Why does this exist?” If someone made it, they had to have a reason, anything from “I wanted to change the world” to “I wanted to make money” to “I was bored.” Those aren’t all great answers, but they’re answers.

Also, all creators exist within their culture, which means their works are products of that culture, and their contents will either reflect or differ from that culture’s values. Like, the fact that all the central characters in The Avengers save one are white, and all save one are men, means something. We can debate the whats and wherefores of that meaning and how much that meaning matters, but since things like race, gender, the military, and New York City, mean things to our society, they can’t not mean things in our movies.

And, let’s be honest: following The Avengers, Tony has PTSD from being a rescue worker during Something Very Bad that Happened in New York, and SHIELD dramatically expands the surveillance state and employs Cap in fighting terrorist threats, so, while not the Bay of Pigs, The Battle of New York is doing work as a 9/11 allegory. Both of these movies have been praised for exactly that.

But, let’s follow through: in our 9/11 allegory, the US government could not have possibly predicted nor prevented the bad Guys’ invasion, America is wholly innocent and has had no political or social impact on the Bad Guys, the Bad Guys are literally inhuman, and any amount of violence against them is justified, up to and including the Good Guys nuking them.

But whatever.

Bringing Back What’s Stolen

OK. A lot of psychoanalytic film writing comes from the 70’s, 80’s, and early 90’s, including gender analysis of horror films, and it can read a little Freudian: gender essentialist, heteronormative, and obsessed with the D. “Does this empowered woman look feminine? Well, she’s holding a gun, and I’ve got news for you: guns are penises. She’s smoking a cigarette, and cigarettes are penises. She’s wearing high heels, and high heels are penises. That slit in her dress that shows off her long legs? [Long Legs Are Penises]”

It’s a bit Second Wave-y. And not completely off-base! Like, I get it, Laura, sometimes a knife is a dick. (Symbolically, I mean.) But sometimes a stiletto is just a stiletto.

Bringing Back What’s Stolen 2

I want to stress that a trope does not define a character, and does not, alone, make her or the movie around her bad. I love a number of the characters I’ve cited. But when a movie, even a great movie, tells me, “Don’t worry, this woman is violent, but we’re not saying women at large are as strong or violent as men,” I feel condescended to. The lengths some movies go to soothe my ego, like I’m a seven-year-old who’s going to throw his toys against the wall, strike me as a big waste of time that could be spent on the more interesting parts of the movie. I’ll take another shootout any day.

WSGT3

Imagine you’re called onstage to do a cold reading of a two-person scene from a play you’ve never read. You don’t know the story, the characters, or even the stage directions. And the director hands out only one script to the other actor. You will have to improvise all your lines. The other actor knows the premise, knows the story, but they still need you to make the scene work. The person who knows what happens is trying to signal everything you need to you without straying from the script, while you attempt to discover your role in the story and perform it at the same time. That is the attention that must be paid. And, together, you try to make a story.

This is an exercise my acting teacher used to do with us, to get us listening to the other actors in a scene instead of just waiting for our cues. And this is how an adventure game feels.

DOOM

It was 1993, and we all knew about DOOM. It had a reputation. Many of us learned it existed with the same breath that forbid from playing it, in the same way we were forbidden from watching Beavis & Butt-head or Terminator 2. We didn’t have those kinds of parents. But most of us knew someone who did.

We came to learn three things about DOOM: that was intended for grown-ups, that our access to it was scarce, and that having not played meant getting teased by those who had. Some of us never asked if playing it interested us, we simply knew playing it was important.

And when we played - and we did play, on whatever computer someone had secreted the shareware version onto - it was like nothing we’d ever seen before. Amazing and terrifying, in the way that a kid alone in the house watching their first skin flick finds it shocking, because half-naked women and simulated sex are so far outside their limited experience. We had never seen anything close to this, and it unsettled us at first. But we played.

The titillation of an art student drawing a nude model lasts for the few moments between the dropping of the robe and the touching of charcoal to paper. Then nakedness becomes just another series of lines to render. We acclimated. When we fired our shotguns into an enemy, soon enough all we saw was an obstacle neutralized. We saw a series of lines elegantly intersecting a series of boxes. That’s not what our parents saw. Our parents saw an imp howling in pain as its ribcage burst from its chest.

And so part of playing DOOM became learning how to defend it. “I play DOOM for the gameplay” became a generation’s “I read Playboy for the articles.” When we got caught, we tried to explain the the lines and the boxes: The bullet wounds were just there to let you know when you’d hit your target. The space marine’s bleeding face was just there to tell at a glance how your health was doing. The enemies were Satanic hellspawn just to make it perfectly clear their function was to be dispatched by your shotgun. What we wouldn’t say was that all these things could be accomplished through other means, without blood, but we didn’t want to play Chex Quest.

What we couldn’t put into words, most especially under threat of punishment, was that, while the blood and gore wasn’t why we wanted to keep playing, it was usually why we sat down in the first place. DOOM was good, but being good wasn’t what made it important; it was important because it was illicit. Yes, we were kids, and we probably would play a game that offered us nothing but brutal violence, but if the lines didn’t pleasingly intersect the boxes we would soon stop playing. DOOM is loved today because there was more to it than that. Blood was captivating, but it wasn’t enough - we sat down, but we did not stay, for blood alone. What our parents could rarely put into words was that us no longer seeing the blood was part of what worried them.

Indivisible Talk

These are some fundamentals I want you to keep in mind as we look at the Right.

Everybody’s people. When I talk about the difference between the Right and the Left, I’m not saying “the Right does this and the Left does that.” I’m talking about things all humans do, and the difference between the Right and the Left is a matter of scale and proportion. If I say “the Left values data over gut feelings” or “the Right values family over extended community,” obviously everyone values all of those things. It’s a question of how they’re prioritized. But small differences in our priorities can lead to dramatically different worldviews. So when I say “the Right does X,” don’t get too hung up on whether the Left also sometimes does X, but try think about how it manifests on the Right versus the Left and what those differences between them mean.

People vote their beliefs, not their self-interest. The Left tends to ask things like, “Why would working-class voters who depend on Obamacare vote for the party that wants to repeal Obamacare? They must have been lied to.” And I won’t deny that a lot of lies were involved, but it’s a mistake to think people only vote for what’s good for them. It seems like this should be obvious; I mean, why do I vote to have my taxes raised to pay for someone else’s education, someone else’s food stamps? We tend to answer that by arguing it is in my self-interest, that a well-fed and well-educated population leads to a stronger economy and a richer culture, and that this will trickle down to make my life better in the long run, and I could make that case, but, really, that’s not why I do it. I believe in education, I believe in fighting poverty, and if you proved to me that neither would ever benefit me personally, I would still fight for them, because it’s the right thing to do. So when someone across the political spectrum does something that confuses us, it may be true that they are misinformed, but we can’t assume that simply correcting them will change their minds. Right or wrong, they are acting in accordance with their beliefs, they trust misinformation because it aligns with those beliefs, and, if you don’t understand what those beliefs are, you’re going to misdiagnose the problem.

Tolerance and sectarianism. A tolerant view of society is the melting pot, the idea that Real America is the combination of many different walks of life, all of which are valid and deserving of the same rights. A sectarian view thinks of one walk of life (usually one’s own) as the Real America, and this walk of life is one society should trend towards: that America is a Christian nation, English should be the national language, or the ideal family as nuclear and heterosexual. I think it’s obvious which ways the Parties lean.

But, again, these are human traits. Everyone is balancing both these impulses every day. And I don’t want us to split these into “tolerant good, in-groups bad.” Democrats who over-commit to the melting pot run into the Karl Popper’s Paradox of Tolerance: that, if you treat every group as equally valid, including Nazis, fascists, and the Klan, you create a less tolerant society. And treating one group as a greater priority than others is logical when that group is persecuted; there is a degree to which all minority activism is defending one’s family. So it’s a matter of knowing when to be tolerant and when to be familial, and coalition-building is all about being both at the same time.

End

Um. So. I’m not sure how to end this. Uh. 200k subs! Wow! I find that number very humbling. Thank you all so much. And back me on Patreon, if you want to and if you haven’t already. There’ll be a proper video soon. Uh. What do people usually do in these things, they do Q&A’s, right? People ask you “what’s your favorite movie, book, game, comic, anime, musical, poem, album, joke”? I’ve been wondering what it says about me that all my answers would be things I experienced in my 20s, or earlier. Is it that I don’t love things the way I used to? Or is it just that, the more art you experience, the harder it is to be blown away? Like, something can be better than anything I’ve seen before, but it can’t shatter the record the way it could when I was younger. But I’m not making a video essay about that, so: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Motion of Light in Water by Samuel R. Delany, LOOM, Sandman, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, A Woman is Talking to Death by Judy Grahn, a three-way tie between In The Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel, Lincoln by They Might Be Giants, and Onomatopoeia by Jonny 5, and the lemon cookie joke.

#video essay

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anthonybialy · 5 years

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Irregular Joe

A president who isn't out to bother us is a fantasy as unlikely to happen as Elizabeth Warren admitting she doesn't know how to add. Short of that, we can hope for an executive untalented enough to fail at micromanaging our lives.

Speaking of failure, Joe Biden lost his marbles more than literally back before he first ran for president when video games had eight whole bits. But a doddering fool is the best type of president we could hope for in these meddlesome times, as we'll accept him doing nothing.

Of course he’s terrible. One needn’t be a Never Trump de facto Democrat gleefully supporting an oafish twit to feel so disenchanted with our stupid politics that the most incompetent option might presently be the least awful.

America's best chance at being left the hell alone lies in the person who is least likely to do so on purpose. A dazed president who can't remember where he left the car keys would be like Calvin Coolidge in not hassling others even if inadvertent.

The 21stcentury take on limiting interference features a politician who should've retired during the 20th. Take any victory available when all presidents think running the economy is a job task.

We've always been able to shrug off Uncle Joe’s demented ramblings even though he's as charming as gravel. Biden somehow isn’t bothersome while being offensive. Stick him at the end of the Thanksgiving table where he can spend dinner facing his struggles with human nature and English over the cranberry cylinder.

This isn't a mush note. The former senator and not much else is nasty in a slimy way that's inherent to politicians who came of age during the era of Foghat. Biden has spent his exceptionally dull career boasting about infringing upon rights, which is particularly galling considering he's the worst option for running our lives.

Further, anyone who endured 2012 will always remember what a prick he was to Paul Ryan. If you dislike the one-time hopeful Republican wonk, resent the braying horse's ass who helped humanize him.

Oh, and Delaware's lamest has been wrong about every last idea he's ever shared. If anyone in power has listened to him, something's gone disastrously as a result. We're most specifically blessed General Joe didn't get to play Risk in Iraq. He's not just incorrect when it comes to claiming an undercover officer has to tell you he's a cop.

Desiring more of the pathetic infringements that Barack Obama imposed is even worse without the unnerving charisma or seething relentlessness. It's infinitely harder to implement preposterous schemes without seducing half of voters into thinking they're being united in bliss.

But Biden's most egregious fault is his greatest strength, namely his singular inability to get anything done. Worries about making him Trump's successor presumes he's capable of implementing his schemes, which is just what we want him to think.

There's no reason to fear the agenda of someone unable to Velcro his own sneakers. Who can ever get those tricky straps straight? A bumbling Democrat is the best hope for liberty when a prototypically pompous twit from the ostensibly pro-commerce party keeps sticking a tariff tax on your receipt.

The biggest fibber is honest about losing his mind. It's nice to be forthright about something. Just please tell the truth about massive lies. Doing so would make any challenger unlike certain incumbents who have created entire personas based in overcompensating for mediocrity.

A useless Democrat is the closest we'll get to a laissez-faire administration. It certainly won't come from ideology. Hoping for either party to start respecting us is like thinking debt will shrink.

Revolutionary outsider Donald Trump sticks it to the establishment with 13-figure deficits and preserving the mandatory retirement Ponzi scheme. Coercion is paired with ineptness he's been exhibiting for decades. That could be either side's hope at this point. Creeping age merely creates an enhanced version of the Joe we've known and loved for decades. At least, we've known.

It's finally time for compromise, I fear. The bipartisan willingness to hassle should provoke outrage. Anyone sick of being told what to do doesn't have voting options. But we can trick those who think they won because they're the smartest. Pretend the selected doofus is running our lives, and we'll pretend to be grateful. Indulge the ego boost which led him to a lifetime of politics instead of being useful.

Wanting the government involved in everything is an intrinsic urge to those who've dedicated careers to pretending they're serving the public. He might not even realize why he's getting thanks, which means it's working.

Biden is the least qualified candidate, which is the best reason to run him. He proves dinosaurs aren't quite extinct yet. No other politician demonstrates why those with so few marketable skills must keep running for office.

Decades in office give him zero qualifications. That's how he ended up as the least offensive option. The particular rabid socialist factions behind the other Democrats are so exhausting that they'll wear each other out with their slap fights. They consider a term that's shorthand for human enslavement to be a compliment.

Tailgunner Joe has the right background, namely a wholesale lack of accomplishments. Getting him on the brink of senility would mean he's peaking in his way.

Biden is in the midst of four years of doing nothing after eight years of even less than nothing. Adding yet another eight would be like having a permanent substitute teacher. Preparing him to pretend he's in charge is part of the process. Give him Taco Bell receipts to sign.

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yobaba30 · 5 years

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~ Tim Wise

1/ If the Dems blow this election it will not be because they were "too far left on policy" or because they "weren't left enough." It will have little to do with policy at all. They are making a mistake caused by traditional consultant theory that does not apply here...

2/ And by listening to influential pundits in liberal media who also don't get the unique nature of Trumpism, relative to normal political movements & campaigns...this election is NOT going to be won by talking about all your "great plans" for health care, jobs, education, etc..

3/ And the reasons are several...Let me begin by saying that I have experience confronting the kind of phenomenon we see in Trumpism, and far more than most. Any of us who were involved in the fight against David Duke in LA in 90/91 know what this is and how it must be fought...

4/ So before explaining what the Dems are doing wrong right now, a little history...In 1990, white supremacist David Duke ran for U.S. Senate in LA, and in 1991 for Governor. He lost both times but both times he won the majority of the white vote (60 and 55% respectively)...

5/ I was one of the staffers of the main anti-Duke PAC at the time & ultimately became Assistant Director. In 90, even though our Director Lance Hill, myself & a few of our founders wanted to focus on Duke's bigotry, ties to extremists and appeals to white racial resentment...

6/ ...after all, that WAS the issue--it was a moral struggle against racism--we had mainstream Democratic consultants who warned us against focusing too much on it. They said that "played into Duke's hands" and allowed him to set the agenda....

7/ So sure, we could discuss his ties to Nazis & such, but we shouldn't make a big deal out of his contemporary racist appeals, per se, bc "lots of voters agree" with those appeals...they even encouraged us to talk about utterly superfluous shit like Duke paying his taxes late..

8/ Or Duke avoiding service in Vietnam, or Duke writing a sex manual under a female pseudonym (yeah he did that)...although Lance held firm that we needed to talk mostly about racism, we did end up talking about some of that other stuff too, sadly...

9/ I say "sadly" because doing that normalized Duke as a regular candidate. Attacking his generic character or bill paying habits (or even discussing his inadequate plans for job creation, etc) treated him like a normal candidate. But he was/is a NAZI...

10/ And none of his voters were voting 4 him bc of jobs, or tax policy or support for term limits, etc. And none were going to turn on him over late tax payments, Vietnam, etc. Indeed throwing that stuff out there & downplaying the elephant in the room (racism) seemed desperate..

11/ It allowed people to say "well if he's really this racist, white supremacist, why are they talking about all this other stuff?" It actually undermined our ability to paint him as the extremist he was/is. And as a result, the threat he posed was not clear enough to voters...

12/ And this didn't just allow him to get votes he might not have gotten otherwise; it also depressed turnout among people who almost certainly disliked him but didn't think he could win or would be all that big a deal if he did. In fact I recall convos with "liberals"...

13/ ...Who said they weren't going 2 vote bc after all Duke's Dem opponent was just a shill for the oil and gas industry, and that was just as bad, blah blah fucking blah...because some lefties can't tell the difference between corporatist assholes and actual literal Nazis...

14/ But we bore some responsibility for that because we got suckered into playing this conventional game and "not playing into his narrative." Anyway, Duke gets 60% of the vote, black and white liberal turnout is lower than it should have been and Duke gets 44% of vote...

15/ In the Governor's race we dispensed w/ all that bullshit. We talked about Duke's ongoing Nazism and the moral/practical evil of his racist appeals. We discussed how that moral evil would have real world consequences (driving tourists and business away, rightly so, from LA)..

16/ Because it was wrong, and it was not who we wanted to be, and it was not who were were. We were better than that and needed to show the rest of the country that...

17/ Now, did this flip any of Duke's 1990 voters? Nah, not really. Indeed he got 65k MORE votes in the Governor's race than the Senate race. But it was never about flipping them. We knew that would be almost impossible...

18/ To flip Duke voters would require that they accept the fact that they had previously voted for a monster, and people are loath to do that. Our goal was not to flip them, but to DRIVE UP TURNOUT among the good folks, many of whom stayed home in 90...

19/ And that is what happened. The concerted effort of the anti-Duke forces (not just us), challenging Duke's "politics of prejudice," and making the election about what kind of state we wanted to be, drove turnout through the roof...

20/ 28,000+ registered on one day alone, between the initial election and runoff (which Duke made bc of the state's open primary system), with tens of thousands more overall: most of them, anti-Duke folks...

21/ When it was over, Duke had gotten 65k more votes than in 90, but his white share went to 55 (from 60) and overall to 39 (from 44) because the anti-Duke turnout swamped him...So what does this have to do with 2020 and Trump? Do I really need to explain it?...

22/ First, trying to flip Trump voters is a waste of time. Any of them who regret their vote don't need to be pandered to. They'll do the right thing. Don't focus on them. That said, very few will regret their vote. They cannot accept they voted for a monster or got suckered...

23/ Duke retained 94% of the folks he got the first time out (and got new people too), as Trump likely will. So forget these people--or at least don't wast time tailoring messages to them. And policy plans for affordable college don't mean shit to them, nor health care...

24/ Their support for Trump was never about policy. It was about the bigotry, the fact that he hates who they hate...Second, as for the "undecideds." ...Not many of these but seriously? If you're still undecided at this point about this guy...

25/ Then there is almost no way to know what would get you to make up your mind...I doubt it's a plan to deal with Wall Street though, or infrastructure, or tax policy...

26/ If anything, I would say crafting an argument that this is an existential crisis for the nation--and making it about Trump's bigotry and who we want to be as a country, would be far more effective in inspiring them to make up their minds...

27/ And what I know for a FACT is that this message--that Trumpism is a threat to everything we care about and love about this country--is what will inspire the Dem base to vote...and THAT is what this election is about...

28/ I'm not saying the Dems don't need policy ideas, but focusing on wonky, look-how-much-I've-thought about-this stuff is not going to move the needle in 2020...

29/ What the left never understands is: we need to stop approaching elections like the goddamned debate team, and start approaching it like the right does, like the cheer leading squad...

30/ The right knows psychology and we know public policy and sociology...great. The latter does not win elections...

31/ People who say the Dems should ignore Trump's race baiting because its some genius political strategy calculated to distract us, are idiots. He is no genius. And if you downplay it you NORMALIZE him. If you make this about policy, you NORMALIZE him. He is a racist...

32/ He is a white nationalist.

He is an authoritarian.

He and his cult are a threat to the future of the nation and world because of their hatreds.

His movement betrays the country's promise.

THAT is the message that will drive turnout. Not debates over marginal tax rates...

33/ Or how we are going to fund schools...And anyone who says we should ignore the race baiting to talk more about Mueller and Russia is an even bigger fool...that's like talking about Duke and late tax payments or other corruptions...it might all be true but is not the point...

34/ Not to say the House shouldn't impeach over that stuff. They should. But the 2020 candidates must craft a message that is not about that.

Trumpism is the threat to America, more than Putin.

And Putin didn't birth Trumpism.

Conservative White America did...

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