me, sitting in the imperial palace in the middle of the Han dynasty, showing the emperor shit off my phone: ...So in the future, instead of having to keep your own council of eunuchs, there is a public one that anyone can go to for advice. They can't betray you because they're not loyal to you - hell, they don't even respect you, they are only loyal to their ideas of being right and correcting each other. They'll answer your questions unless they think that your question was stupid, in which case you're receiving a full downpour of their vitriol. No, they won't kill you if you offend them. The worst they can do is ban you from that particular subreddit.
"kung pow penis," a phrase commonly used in reblogs to indicate utter disdain for OP, has twelve letters, each of which (traditionally) must be supplied by a different user. the unanimity of disdain indicated by these twelve unrelated users has strong parallels to the requirement of unanimity for a jury—also traditionally of twelve—to arrive at a verdict. in this essay i will
underrated funny element of Lord of the Rings is that the prophecy about how “no man” shall kill the Witch-King, foreseen and spoken by a mighty elf-lord of old…is from Glorfindel. You know, our buddy Glorfindel, from Rivendell? Who picked the hobbits & Aragorn up for the last few miles to the valley, pursued by the Ringwraiths? Which he did because he is, yes, a mighty-elf-lord of old—but his primary and in fact only role in the story is as basically a high-stakes emergency uber guy. Also, when I say “mighty elf-lord of old”, I DO mean he’s a hero of the First Age, a lord of Gondolin ere its fall, famed for slaying a Balrog to safeguard the retreat from that grand city, now reborn & returned to Middle Earth to help fight evil…and he gave that prophecy about the Witch-King in like the mid-Third Age just ~2,000 years ago, like 5,000 years AFTER his epic Balrog duel. For the Men, this is a Huge Thing of Yore; for Glorfindel, it was, like, not just another Tuesday, but maybe a serious Saturday; and also he’s still here, just ubering lost hobbits.
The king’s wedding celebration had long-since shifted from formality to revelry, so Merry’s usual blithe cheer didn’t stand out as it might have.
But his small form did slip easily through the party—all the more easily for the elf trailing just behind him, nearly twice as tall as the hobbit, with waves of hair like spun gold and a lordly but laughing demeanor.
Eowyn rose quickly from her seat near the edge of the festivities, and tried to remember what this one was named. He’d come with Lord Elrond’s people from Rivendell, certainly. But there’d been more elves than she’d ever imagined meeting in her life—
As usual, Merry saved her.
“Eowyn, have you met Glorfindel?” he gushed. “Glorfindel, this is Eowyn!” He gestured between them with rabbit-like energy, spraying drops from the half-empty stein of mead in his hand. “Eowyn, he’s the one who said the thing!"
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord," Eowyn said diplomatically. To Merry, she added, "'The thing'?"
(Eowyn eyed her friend, and judged him several steins into the evening, not to mention his current drink.)
"The thing the Witch-King was going on about!"
"If I may clarify," Glorfindel offered.
He took her hand and went to one knee to kiss it, and stayed knelt as gracefully and graciously as a mortal man might bow. This put him at just under Eowyn's own height, and when he raised his head, his eyes met hers with a shine that was part starlight, part (unless she missed her estimation of reveling warriors) tipsy glee much akin to Merry's.
"I am more than honored to meet you at last, my lady! For it was a little over a thousand years ago that I was graced with the foresight of a glimpse of your victory over he who was then Witch-King of Angmar. No details did I know, alas! Just that there would be a warrior like no mortal man, many years hence, who would laugh in his face and slay the evil at last." He grinned at her like sunlight itself. "Many times since, I sought for more, in fact or daydream. But I am delighted to see that the truth of Ëa had handily outshone my greatest imaginings yet again!"
Not for the first time since she'd survived past her expected fall in battle, and especially since the bridal party of elves arrived at the Field of Cormallen, Eowyn felt her mind skid to a halt like hooves on loose scree.
"You saw...me?" she asked. "A thousand years ago?"
"One thousand and forty-four, I believe," the elf-lord confirmed. "'Far off yet is his doom, and not by the hand of man will he fall', I said, as I watched his retreat, and it sounds like word of it reached his ears—to his overconfident downfall!"
A shadow passed over Eowyn's heart at the memory of her terrible duel. But with the sunlight beam of an ancient warrior literally out of Faramir's history books (he'd shown her the prophecy while they dallied in Minas Tirith), and Merry grinning at them both like a proud polecat, the shadow could not stay.
Indeed, she laughed, much more brightly and truly than she had on that terrible battlefield. (And maybe she'd had some mead herself, before she slipped to the edges of the party (still more easily wearied than she used to be.))
"I'm only glad that I didn't disappoint!" she cried.
She tugged Glorfindel to his feet, just to urge him, "Please, sit with me, my lord—Merry, you too, you're like to fall over."
"Please, call me 'Glorfindel,'" said the elf-lord, as he took a chair beside her. (Merry plopped directly onto the grass.)
"And you shall call me 'Eowyn,'" she returned. "I think you have known me long enough for that! Now, you have heard my story, so I must beg some of you. I have of late foresworn the war-dreams of a shieldmaiden, but in the same breath I became dear friends with an amateur historian. My ancestors in the north fought in those same wars, did they not? Did you ever come south in peacetime, to the fields of Rohan?"
Personally I don't really understand why we are so anti-solidarity these days, but I don't like it.
"I relate to your struggle because it sounds similar to my struggle, therefore I want to help you with this the way I would have wanted to be helped myself" is pretty much the baseline of allyship. For whatever reason, though, it's almost become a matter of stolen valor and stealing the spotlight, and frequently I see it rejected outright.
I just don't get it. Personally I am thrilled when someone who Isn't Like Me reaches out to share help or even just an encouragement. I don't really see it as an out group "making it about themselves" if they're just trying to say they've experienced similar and sympathize.
I can actually think of an alternative explanation: small print press. He’d put out orders for various rare books with the traveling merchants who’d come through town, and every so often they’d turn up with one and he’d set about printing a hundred copies or so, then sell the fresh new copies to merchants heading towards various university towns like Avignon, Grenoble, Toulouse, etc. He’d likely keep a couple copies of each book for himself, generating a library, and might wind up with all sorts of books he couldn’t profitably make copies of to sell to the universities, like fairy tales.
If that’s his business model, then Belle might be the closest thing he’d have to an apprentice, since we can see he’s getting on in age and might have nobody else to even consider passing the business along to when he slips the mortal coil. As one final thought, her dad is an inventor, and might be the bookseller’s only actual local customer, which might also explain the relationship. Her dad would occasionally want certain types of books on natural philosophy, and the bookseller would be the one with contacts who could procure them. Just look how dangerous it was for him to go traveling all alone! Far better to leave that sort of business to professional traveling merchants.
If you combine these ideas, then you wind up with a bookseller who was training Belle as an apprentice for both small press publishing and money laundering, only to watch his very promising student be swept away by some rich guy the whole town was trying to kill twenty minutes ago. He admires her hustle, but it leaves a gaping hole in his succession plan.
Fortunately there are two newcomers in town, one with an eye for mechanics and meticulous attention to detail and one with a love of risks and charm to spare, and that's how the neurotic clock and slutty candlestick take over the legitimate and criminal wings of his enterprise respectively.
The idea that rural communities wouldn't benefit from public transit of some form is so fucking stupid. There was a guy in my hometown who would hitch hike 15 miles to the grocery store because he was blind that everyone knew and knew to offer rides to if they saw him. You know what else would have fixed this, been more efficient, and helped other disabled people, seniors, and people whose cars got repoed?
I love you fictional characters with mortal flaws. I love you villains that aren’t redeemable. I love you characters whose struggles aren’t pretty or palatable. I love you relationships that aren’t perfect. I love you characters who make mistakes and know it and know they can’t undo it. I love you!!!
My name is Jess and I was a high school Literature teacher for 16 years until I decided to run as a Democrat in a rural, red district in Mis
Jess Piper at The View from Rural Missouri:
I will turn 50 this September. I was born in 1975, and I represent the only generation of American women born with full rights that have been lost in the same lifetime.
My generation has witnessed anti-progress. A cultivated backpedal.
In the grand scheme of things, American women did not enjoy rights for very long.
All of my childhood pictures are in color — not black and white. The movie “Jaws” was released a few months before my birth. President Ford announced the end of the Vietnam War and Microsoft was founded in 1975. Women were officially allowed to join the Coast Guard and Wheel of Fortune and Saturday Night Live both debuted the year I was born.
The Rocky Horror Picture Show opened in 1975. The biggest song of the year was “Love Will Keep Us Together” by Captain & Tennille and the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior.
You are likely familiar with all of the trivia and events I just listed from 1975, because it wasn’t that long ago.
I was born 50 years ago with the rights that my daughters and granddaughters are losing or have already lost.
I was born six years after the right to a no-fault divorce was first established. This law allowed women to divorce based on "irreconcilable differences" without needing to prove fault on the part of either spouse.
I have always lived under legislation that allowed me to divorce.
I was born two years after Roe. The case established a woman’s right to an abortion and medical privacy under the law.
I have had reproductive rights for most of my adult life.
The Equal Credit Opportunity Act became law one year before I was born. This legislation made it illegal for banks to discriminate against loan and credit applicants based on sex. Before the ECOA, banks could legally refuse to grant women credit or they could require a husband's co-signature.
I have had the right to control my finances all my life.
I have had certain rights even if they were constantly under siege in my red state.
The rights that women have enjoyed for a full generation are being rolled back by Christian nationalists to support authoritarianism. A cultish form of Christianity to pave the way for the oligarchs to form an authoritarian government with Trump as the figurehead.
Everything from no-fault divorce to abortion to women having a bank account runs afoul of Christian nationalism and Evangelicalism. Their religion subjugates women and is antithetical to feminism and equal rights.
The patriarchy in general, and the Christian patriarchy in particular, subsists on the submission of women — either with a woman’s consent, or by force. Women must bend to the will of laws and regulations meant to keep them under the boot and without certain rights that would make them balk at forced compliance.
[...]
Throughout my life, I’ve heard the argument that young men have been “falling behind” for decades and that women’s rights must be pulled back to let the men catch back up. That women’s rights have limited men’s rights.
That’s a lie.
Men can progress just like women have. Men can and should be able to get educated and find a job and get a bank account and get married and start a family (if and when they want) just like women have been able to do for an entire generation.
And if they can’t? Well, that’s their problem to figure out and it has nothing to do with women having equal rights.
Human rights aren’t pie. Giving rights to others doesn’t mean you get less. Equal rights are guaranteed under the Constitution…even if Republicans hate the Constitution.
I have lived my life with the rights my daughters have already lost. Many more rights are on the chopping block, but I am telling you, I will not go quietly and neither will the folks around me.
Jess Piper recounts the experiences of how the Gen-X generation being the only generation to enjoy their rights in full before it became a gradual erosion.
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