View allAll Photos Tagged stutter
Molly: *snorts loudly, clearly stating that he is indeed ‘well aware’*
Diego: *shrugs, signs/says* “That seems to be the consensus, not that it’s doing me a damn big of good where it matters.”
Yuri: “And, pray tell, where does it matter?”
Diego: *turns his head and stares directly into Charley’s eyes with a heart-stuttering intensity*
Charley: *returns his gaze steadily, lips parting, as she struggles to keep her breathing even*
Yuri: “Hmm…*studies the pair, face enigmatic* I shall have to consult with Kumi about this straightaway. Diego, may I take a photo of you with my phone? It will help during our discourse, if we have visual aids.”
Charley: *breaks eye contact with Diego to gawk at Yuri* “Consult about what?”
Yuri: *waves her hand back and forth between Diego and Charley* “This.”
Charley: *steps away from Diego, voice low* “There is no ‘this.’”
Molly: *rolls her eyes exasperatedly, signs* “I need more gummy worms.” *turns on her heel, stalks off*
Diego: “You shouldn’t argue with her, Charley. She clearly has a better grasp on the situation than you do.”
Charley: *grabs her jars of peanut butter from the cart, stiffly* “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to pay for these and head back to the apartment. I have to get ready for my date with Dane, my boyfriend.” *pivots smartly, marches off*
Yuri: “She does not seem to be reacting well to your advances, Diego.”
Diego (unconcernedly): “She’s reacting just fine. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s apathy…and there has never been, nor will there ever be, anything apathetic about Bug’s feelings for me.”
Yuri: “Surely you recognize that you are playing a weighty game here. You stand to lose all.”
Diego: “Far be it from me to correct you, since you don’t strike me as the type to appreciate it, but you’re wrong on both counts.”
Yuri: *watches Charley’s retreat, face thoughtful* “Really? Do enlighten me, then.”
Diego: “Firstly, this is no game. Secondly, I already lost it all when she left the first time. Now…*hands tighten around the handle of the cart, as he follows Charley departure with hungry eyes* I’m trying to win it all back.”
To be continued next Tuesday…
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Yuri
Skirt: Mattel – BFMC – Pretty in Pleats Barbie
Bodysuit, Belt & Stockings: IT – Monogram – Discreet
Shoes: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Purse: Randall Craig RTW Accessory Set
Long Necklaces & Ring: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Choker: Me
Doll is Nu.Fantasy Little Red Riding Hood Yuri transplanted to a NuFace body.
Charley
Jeans: Clear lan
Top: Sekiguchi Momko – Lazy Seventeen
Belt: Cangaway (etsy.com)
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Glasses: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the superlative valmaxi(!!!)
Diego
Jeans: Clear lan
Shirt: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Raw Appeal Lukas
Vest: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Fast Track Victor James
Belt: Miema (etsy.com)
Shoes: IT – Poppy Parker – Baby, It’s You Chip
Hat: Mattel – Barbie Collectible – Frank Sinatra: The Recording Years
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Rock Steady Romain, eyes, brows, facial hair, and shading by me.
MKSG The X-Men: Survival - Issue #12
X-Mansion, The Danger Room
Iceman and Magneto stand in The Danger Room. In front of them, a Purifier named Elizabeth is strapped to a metal chair.
“It's a shame we don't have a telepath with us anymore. Charles or Jean would be so useful right now…” Colossus says. He and the other students, as well as Nightcrawler and Magneto's new acolytes, stand nervously in the observation deck. They have the speakers on so they can hear everything that's going on as Elizabeth is interrogated.
“First question: Are Cyc-... Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe still alive?” Bobby asks, in his ice form, trying to be intimidating.
“No. We need to know where Stryker is! Where is the coward!?” Magneto cuts him off. Elizabeth smirks.
“I'm not telling you anything…”
“Not to worry. There are ways of making you talk!” shouts Magneto.
He lifts his hands and the metal chair starts to crinkle and bend. The seat begins to curl tightly around her lap and the chair legs twist around her shins. Elizabeth starts to squirm and wriggle, but she isn't giving anything up.
This is making Iceman uncomfortable. He agreed to interrogate her, not to torture her. But he wants answers, just as desperately as Magneto does.
He waits, but he can't stand it. He pushes Magneto, breaking his concentration.
“Stop this! This clearly isn't going to work!”
Magneto sighs, and returns that chair to normal as he gets up from the floor of The Danger Room.
“And what would you suggest, Iceman?” he asks.
“Something that actually works… Maybe.” Bobby replies. He looks at Elizabeth, and she looks back at him concerned.
10 minutes later
“Who developed it, may I ask?” Magneto queries, as he and Iceman re-enter The Danger Room, with Bobby holding a set of injections.
“Beast did, the clever bastard. Finally put his biochemical engineering degree to good use, rather than turning himself into a blue furry.”
As they approach Elizabeth, she still looks very concerned. Scared, almost.
“W-What is t-that?” she says, her voice stuttering. She's beginning to tremble.
“Doesn't have an official name, so let's just call it good old-fashioned ‘Truth Serum’”
“Please don't! I'm begging you, don't! I don't want that thing messing with my head!”
Iceman inserts the needle into one of the vials and begins to fill it up slowly.
“What about the CHILDREN who begged you not to capture them!? Did you show them mercy!?”
“I'm sorry! I didn't, you're right! Just lease stop, I'll tell you anything you want to know!”
Iceman stops filling the needle.
“Well, tell us about Scott Summers and Ororo Munroe! Did you kill them?” Bobby says desperately.
“No no! We faked their deaths! That day, when we chased a kid here, we figured out that they were The X-Men! And so Stryker and Risman set up a trap, on The Stryker Show!” she shouts back at them, terrified.
“And what did Stryker want with the Mutants he's capturing?” Magneto pressures.
“He sells them to a company: Trask Technologies. They're the ones who employed me, and made me work with those Purifier freaks like Risman.”
“So you're… not a Purifier?” Iceman questions.
“No. I just work with the freaks because I'm great at what I do: tracking people. I work for Trask Technologies, like I said! I don't even hate Mutants!”
“So where is Stryker? And Risman?”
Elizabeth hesitates for a second. Iceman raises the needle, threatening her with it.
“They both took off. Stryker took the girl with him, Storm, and Risman took the guy, Cyclops.”
“But where are they!? And where are the rest of the Mutants you've captured!?”
She sighs.
“They'll kill me if they find out I told you…” she pleads.
“And we'll kill you if you don't,” Magneto says, and her chair begins to rattle again.
“Stryker went to Trask. I don't know where their base is, honestly. But Trask wanted Storm immediately, so he got her.”
“And Risman? Where's Cyclops? And the rest of the kids?!” Iceman asks, almost begging.
“Trask Tech. They have this… boat. A huge military vessel where they keep most of the prisoners. But it's… miles off the coast of Anchorage, Alaska, in international waters…”
“Finally. An answer, a location. ” says Iceman.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Elizabeth,” Magneto says to her, as they turn to leave the room.
“I'm so glad that worked,” Iceman says under his breath as they walk out.
“But you didn't use the serum…” Magneto says, puzzled.
“Good. If I did have to, she would've realised it was a placebo,” says Iceman. As he does, he can't help but have a smile across his face.
“Ha! The cheek! So what was really in the vials?” asks Magneto. For a few seconds, the pair of them have forgotten that there was a crisis at hand.
“Gatorade.” Iceman says, as he closes the circular door behind them.
________________________________________________
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A junction of copings provide the basis for a multiple exposure.
Hand-held nine frame ICM multiple exposure. Frames exposed in a short sharp upward sweep, following the line in the left of the frame. Big amends in Lightroom.
ChunkaChunkaChunka at Pelcomb Portraits.
Composite of 47, 28 second images, 17 mm @ 4.5, processed using StarStax and StarCircle Academy Advanced Stacker; also LR4. The moon was so bright it created beautiful shadows in the river. Though there are a few stutters in the trails (teensy screw up on my part), I am still pretty pleased with the results.
© 2013 All Rights Reserved. My photographs are available for licensing and fine art prints. If Interested please contact me.
Soundtrack // Bande-son: GREAT LAKE SWIMMERS ("Uncertian Country"): www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajm4eYcv5oU&t=5s
"Static in the frame, and with a stutter... Not in flight, on the road, on foot... Can’t reach it... UNCERTAIN COUNTRY... Uncertain country..;"
Sur la route menant de Timbaki à Agia Galini, sur le littoral sud du district régional de Réthymnon (Crète).
I've always wanted to shoot a long exposure of fair-rides, and this was my first attempt. Definitely pleased with the results--this was from when they were off-loading people, and only moving in small motions. To me, this "spoke" look is much more interesting than large circular trails.
Nikon D800
Nikon 16-35 f4 VRII
Polarizer
Natural light
This sun was mine and yours; we shared it.
Who’s suffering behind the golden silk, who’s dying?
A woman beating her dry breasts cried out: ‘Cowards,
they’ve taken my children and torn them to shreds, you’ve killed them
gazing at the fire-flies at dusk with a strange look,
lost in blind thought.’
The blood was drying on a hand that a tree made green,
a warrior was asleep clutching the lance that cast light against his side.
It was ours, this sun, we saw nothing behind the gold embroidery
then the messengers came, dirty and breathless,
stuttering unintelligible words
twenty days and nights on the barren earth with thorns only
twenty days and nights feeling the bellies of the horses bleeding
and not a moment’s break to drink the rain-water.
You told them to rest first and then to speak, the light had dazzled you.
They died saying ‘We don’t have time’, touching some rays of the sun.
You’d forgotten that no one rests.
A woman howled ‘Cowards’, like a dog in the night.
Once she would have been beautiful like you
with wet mouth, veins alive beneath the skin,
with love.
This sun was ours; you kept all of it, you wouldn’t follow me.
And it was then I found out about those things behind the gold and the silk:
we don’t have time. The messengers were right.
Giorgos Seferis
2020 Elf Off the Shelf
December 4, 2020
9/31
Frodo and Maurice turn around, and standing at the end of the platform appeared to be a station manager. He appeared out of nowhere. So did the passenger train! The two travelers had their back to the rails that they hadn’t seen or heard the train roll quietly in.
“W-we were l-looking for the sch-schedule of arrivals and d-departures from this station,” Frodo hesitantly replies in a stuttered sort of way.
“We’re here now,” the man gruffly answered. “Now, do you have your ticket? Or do I have to sell you one on the train? You can’t ride for free, you know.”
Maurice stepped up and countered, “Sir, I have the money for my ticket, but I won’t have any leftover for my second-cousin-twice-removed.” Maurice touched Frodo’s shoulder and tells him sadly, “I wish we could continue together, but I don’t think that’s possible. Will you forgive me for not being able to take you along?”
Frodo turns and faces Maurice with slightly tearful eyes. “I understand. There are many times people make trips to a distance place, wanting to take family and friends with them, but they are the ones who must make the journey alone. Of course, I forgive you, but will you remember to do me a favor?”
“Anything!” Maurice replied quickly. “What is it you need?” Maurice had no idea if he could even deliver on this promise, and inside he wondered if he should have even offered in the first place.
“Could you please bring back warmth and peace here to Middle Earth? Ever since the scourge hit, everyone has been on edge and agitated. We face a common, unseen enemy, but we don’t know how best to confine that enemy to a cave and shut him in. Perhaps you can find a way and help us.” Frodo stood still for a moment, then stretched out his arms to give Maurice a big hug. Hobbits love to give hugs, when appropriate.
Maurice was taken aback by Frodo’s desire, but knew he could help. Maurice was heading to the North Pole, and soon Christmas will arrive. Will he know Santa well enough to ask him about this request? He could only hope.
20201204 339/366
A Former Friend.
Hunter Zolomon - Two boys as thick as thieves, Hunter Zolomon and Wally West spent most of their adolescent and adult life together. Everyone around them knew they were closer than brothers from the moment they met, sharing everything from toys to their very first jobs. They were both two of the nicest boys while simultaneously being the biggest troublemakers those around them had ever known. Every day one could find the pair together, that was until Wally moved to Central City to live with his aunt Iris and her boyfriend Barry, thus leaving Hunter by himself in Keystone City. While the pair were only separated by the Gem Cities Bridge, the two quickly became distant from each other. Their weekly car trip across the state line to visit one another swiftly drifted into a once in a while text message or phone call. Eventually the messages mostly stopped as Wally moved to New York for what he claimed would be a great learning opportunity at a prep school.
Hunter was left alone in Keystone for years, and because of his tight bond with Wally coupled with not really knowing many more friends than him, Hunter had a hard time finding any luck socializing with the other kids in his school. Eventually, Hunter dropped out of his school and opted to finish his high school years online, furthering his isolation from any form of friendship. After Zolomon graduated from high school he spent a few years in a community college but his real goal was to become a cop when he became of age. So once he turned twenty-one Hunter enrolled in to a police academy so as to fulfill his goal.
A few years had passed and Hunter had become an esteemed police officer, even being considered a promotion to detective after he cracked a case that had stumped many of his fellow officers. All while this was happening, Wally had finished college and was travelling the world with the Titans, though Hunter only knew that he was with some “friends.” Eventually, Wally made his way back to the Gem Cities to stop by and visit his Aunt and her now Husband. While there Wally made his way across the bridge to once again meet up with Hunter. The pair hung out at Zolomon’s house and reminisced about old times as well as caught up on things that had transpired since the last time they had seen each other. Wally went on and on about his travels across the country and abroad all while Hunter really only had stories of cases he had worked on and nothing more.
Almost a year passed and Wally had since moved back home to Keystone City where he began work as a mechanic for Zolomon’s precinct. All felt right again as the pair again began to spend most of their free time together. That was until one day Zolomon was called to a case that got very violent. Caught in a shootout, Hunter had nowhere to go so he had no other option but to call for back up. Unfortunately the back up showed up to late and Hunter was caught in the cross fire of two rival gangs. A stray shot struck Hunter in the back and instantly paralyzed him. The loud gunfire caught the attention of Wally who was patrolling the city as the Flash. Quickly, Wally made it to the scene and disarmed all of the gang members, even going as far as finding some chain to tie up all of the thugs. With a painful groan, Hunter yelled for the Flash to come to his aid. Wally swiftly ran to Hunter’s side and quickly unmasked in an attempt to calm Hunter. In the blink of an eye, Wally got Hunter to the hospital before any further damage happened and the doctors were able to stabilize Zolomon. However, due to the point at which the bullet entered Zolomon’s back he was now left paralyzed from the waste down.
After Hunter was discharged from the hospital he and Wally met up so Hunter could thank his friend for saving him that day. Wally assured Hunter that he would do anything to help Hunter and that he would be by his side whenever he was needed. Hunter again thanked Wally and the pair began discussing Wally’s secret life and all things superpower related. Eventually the conversation got the point that Wally mentioned that at one point he travelled back in time thanks to a “cosmic treadmill” that Star Labs had let him use. With this information, Hunter asked Wally if there was a way that he could use the treadmill to go back in time and stop what had happened. Wally quickly shot down the idea because he said that it would tamper with the timeline and only cause more issues to arise if he did so. Hunter begrudgingly agreed, though he began to think that if he could somehow gain access to this treadmill that maybe he could reverse the events that had transpired.
So with this hopeful idea, Hunter secretly made his way to Star Labs in Central City. There he broke in to the facility and found what could only be described as a glorified treadmill. With what little mobility he had left in his lower body, Hunter made his way onto the treadmill after finding the power source and flicking it on. Hunter braced himself on a bar and waited for the treadmill to begin moving. With a loud roar and a fury of blinking lights, the treadmill began to slowly move. Zolomon began to stumble along the moving ground beneath him as the machine began to hiss and stutter. A loud crack sounded behind Zolomon and a flash of electricity jolted his legs causing him to fall face first on the ever accelerating platform on which he stood. As Hunter crashed off the back of the treadmill he noticed a small puff of smoke coming from the treadmill’s power source. The small puff quickly became a large billowing stack of smoke as a large blast of flames came bursting forth out of an electrical panel. Hopeless once more, Hunter laid there as the machine roared ever louder and sputter flames onto the ground before him. Hunter closed his eyes as he knew the machine was about to explode before him, though to his surprise, with the sound of a loud pop he found himself falling through a realm of electricity. In shock, Hunter faded into unconsciousness and landed back into the reality he found familiar.
After coming to, Hunter found himself in a hospital room, a surrounding he had unfortunately grown accustomed to. Though this time he felt different, he could feel his legs and every muscle in them. For the first time in almost a year Hunter could move his legs, so he did what anyone would do in his position, he got up and began walking. Much to his surprise, however, as he began walking he was moving much quicker than he could really comprehend. In a second he found himself outside the hospital and in the middle of the street outside. Somehow he could set his sights on a place and in the blink of an eye his legs could carry him there with little to no effort. Remembering what had happened to him and why it did, Hunter became filled with rage towards Wally. He knew that Wally could have stopped what had happened to him because of the very fact that he now had the ability to move his legs again.
Filled with rage, Hunter raced to Wally’s house, there he found Wally’s girlfriend, Linda. Without thinking much, Hunter took a hold of Linda and raced her out to the exact spot where he had gotten shot. Angrily, Hunter grabbed Linda’s phone from her jacket pocket and dialed Wally. Hunter told him exactly where he was and what he would do if Wally didn’t show up to talk to him. Zolomon figured that Wally wasn’t willing to risk his life to help him get his legs back, so he was going to pay for it by losing his girlfriend. One thing kept racing through Zolomon’s mind and that was that Wally had never truly cared for him. To Hunter, that’s why Wally left him alone all those years ago. In Hunter’s mind, Wally was the reason every bad thing had happened to him, so in return Hunter himself would be the reason every bad thing moving forward would happen to Wally. Along with the powers of the Speed Force, Anger, rage, jealousy, and heartbreak are the only things that seem to course through the veins of Hunter Zolomon.
To save this man’s life I grab hold of him and lift him up off his feet. Saying he wasn’t best pleased would be an understatement, but he knows that his only options are to stay in close proximity to my person or be shot by Talia. Needless to say it can be assumed he isn’t a big fan of being shot, then again aside from Clark who is? Thus, in order to save his own skin, he chooses to not put up much of a fight. Normally that would be quite alarming. If an opponent suddenly stops his attacks, it’s never a good sign. Often it means they have something that will tip the odds in their favour. In this case though I appear to hold all the cards. It’s either lose to me or be shot by Talia. I don’t approve of using death as a method to force compliance but in this scenario I have no choice. My suit is in poor shape and I can’t afford another drawn out fight with him so I have to end this now.
Sadly, for him the end of this battle isn’t good for him in either scenario. The only difference is that with me he’ll walk away with his life.
”Get out of the way! It’s him or us.”
”I won’t let you indulge in your father’s tactics Talia. If you use his methods, you’re no better than him!”
”Move Bruce, don’t make me fire on you!”
It’s a bluff. At least I hope so. Talia may have no quarrels with taking a life, but she doesn’t have a major blood thirst unlike some of the other members of the League, in part due to her not being overexposed to the Lazarus pit. Perhaps that’s why Damian was so willing to kill anyone in his path, not because of his training but because of his exposure to the pit’s effect. It’s hard to know given my lack of knowledge as to the extent of his training.
Maybe I’m just telling myself that in the hopes that he can be redeemed. After all who wants their son to be a willing serial killer. Huh. Funny. That’s the first time I’ve actually referred to him as my son. I only wish it was under better circumstances.
After a few quick punches to the chest, the assailant is all but defeated. The only thing needed is to restrain him. Originally I had intended to simply drop him to the ground and use a pair of the handcuffs on the floor, from when I forced my belt to empty its contents, and leave him for Jim. But that all changes as he reaches for a small knife on his leg holster. Just like their katanas , this knife is able to cut through the armour of my suit as if it was simply paper.
Needless to say, in a moment of both shock and anger I quickly throw him to the other side of the room causing him to slam into the chest of drawers where Talia pulled her gun from. Evidently I threw him with a large amount force, more so than I thought at least, as he smashes the chest to pieces whilst being rendered unconscious.
A quick inspection of the wound allows me to see how deep the cut is. Amazingly, he was able to cut through the bat symbol on my chest with ease as if it were nothing. Thank goodness it’s the most reinforced part of my whole suit or he’d have done a tremendous amount of damage. This, this is just a flesh wound. It’ll heal in a month…..assuming I’m still here in a month’s time.
Talia takes a moment to inspect the wound and panics when she sees blood coming out of the opening in my suit. It’s only when I show her the thickness of my armour plating that she calms down…..somewhat. It doesn’t stop her from slowly walking over to the unconscious assailant and putting her gun to his head.
”It’s over Talia. You don’t need to take his life.”
”If you cut down a tree but leave the roots, it will grow back eventually. If we leave him alive he’ll come be back and he won’t be al…”
As she stutters Talia loses her balance. Clearly the painkiller is starting to wear off and the pain is coming back to her. Sadly, I’m somewhat relieved by this as horrible as it sounds, because it stops Talia from taking another life. Though at the same time this does worry me. I expected that the painkiller would give her body time to heal using the residual Lazarus in her body. The fact that her body doesn’t appear to have healed itself at all is…. interesting…. though I doubt she’d agree with me on that remark.
For a moment it looks like she’s able to overcome the sudden rush of pain, but then almost immediately after it looks like she’s regained her composure she stumbles. Before she has a chance to collapse I race to her side and help support her.
”The painkiller is wearing off. I need to get you back to the cave so we can remove the bullet.”
”So I’m finally going to meet the infamous….Alfred…..Pennyworth….after all this time.”
Despite the situation I can’t help but crack a smile for Talia. Both to put her at ease and also knowing that at long last, she gets to meet Alfred. It doesn’t sound like a major thing, but after how much I talked about him during my time with the League, Talia’s been desperate to meet him if only to know who was the poor man that had to put with raising me for all those years.
”You are Talia. You are.”
I’m not going to lose you Talia. Ra’s may have stolen the son I never knew I had, but I’m not going to let him take you away from me again.
Pieter Bruegel der Ältere -
Zwei angekettete Affen [1562] -
Berlin, Gemälde-Galerie - wm
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Wislawa Szymborska
Two Monkeys by Brueghel
(trans. from the Polish by Magnus Kryski)
I keep dreaming of my graduation exam:
in a window sit two chained monkeys,
beyond the window floats the sky,
and the sea splashes.
I am taking an exam on the history of mankind:
I stammer and flounder.
One monkey, eyes fixed upon me, listens ironically,
the other seems to be dozing--
and when silence follows a question,
he prompts me
with a soft jingling of the chain.
english.emory.edu/classes/paintings&poems/szymborska....
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By Marleen Stoessel - Updated 30.06.2023-17:30
From Breughel to Kafka: an early poem by the Polish Nobel laureate who was born a hundred years ago.
The painting to which this poem refers hangs in the Berlin Gemäldegalerie. Two monkeys crouched chained in a kind of embrasure, with a view of the water and sailing ships deep below them; birds crossing the vast sky bounded only by the round arch of the window, the suggestion of a city far off in the right-hand background of the picture. But none of the monkeys is looking out. The one in front crouches with its back to the lookout, staring impassively in the direction of the viewer. The second one crouches to the side, as if dozing. A picture from 1562 that has been interpreted in numerous ways and, almost 400 years later, becomes the dream image of a young Polish poetess who, at that time, in the thaw period a few years after Stalin's death, frees herself from the ideological clutches, i.e. chains, of socialist realism. An image that, like any true work of art, music or literature, reveals new layers, aspects and perspectives in every era, recreating itself with every viewer, listener or reader, with everyone who responds to it in their own time, in their own individual reading.
1957, when this poem was written, was the year in which the poetry of Wisława Szymborska, who was thirty-four years old at the time, underwent a decisive turn and transformation, a turn towards the simplicity, light-footedness and laconicism that are her trademarks - an attitude gained from paradoxical experience of the world, with which she observes the objects of the small everyday world and the big world and seasons them with subtle, often cheerful irony. Small things become big, but the big ones shrink as if casually to their proper size - all of them overshadowed by an indulgently humorous smile with which the poet seems to wink at herself again and again.
The quiet clanking of chains
It is impossible to exhaust the manifold connotations, associations and references that open up in this poem: the paradoxical reversal of the situation that the dream image, overwriting its model as it were, undertakes, in which man is tested by the ape for his "maturity", in human history of all things. Is evolution testing itself backwards here, so to speak? Is man maturing into an ape as his more human counterpart? And yet fails at the same time "stuttering" and "faltering", deeply ashamed?
"Ich schäme mich sehr, ich - Menschenaffe" ("I am very ashamed, I - ape") is the title of another poem from that time, expressing the shame of the spectator in the face of the bullied and whipped circus animals (the title of the 1952 poem). The shame here appears more planar, in simple reflection, while the later dream image shows the chains in multiple reflections, onsets and offsets. They are the examination material before which the examinee fails. And all the required correct answer is contained in the "quiet clanking of the chains", in an answer that also has to be recited. It doesn't get more mocking than this, and more devastating for the dreaming human ego can't be the ape-like contempt. "Failed" would be the verdict of this maturity test, to which a notation from Walter Benjamin's passages seems to correspond: "In every century, humanity must be detained", according to the sober insight of the historical-philosophical thinker, equally illusionless, ironic and bitter.
All the art of paradox, which Szymborska, who died in 2012, developed in her later work with inimitable fine irony, as generously indulgent as she was laconically sober and always with a light hand, is contained in this early poem. Indulgent, however, towards herself, insofar as one wants to relate the aforementioned shame to her earlier ideological aberrations. It is expressed only indirectly, in stuttering and faltering, and its tragedy is reminiscent of and touches on the shame that the ape in Kafka's "Report for an Academy" inflicts on us when, with the awakening consciousness of himself to which, of all things, imprisonment has freed him, he becomes aware of the ape-like nature of his "half-dressed" companion: "she has," we are told towards the end of the text, "the madness of the confused trained animal in her gaze; only I recognise this, and I cannot bear it. "
It is the abyss of shame that opens up in all these paradoxical references - and becoming aware of it is at the same time the only chance of our being human and being human.All of this, shame and opportunity, resonates in the "quiet clanking of the chains" from which the poetic I also frees itself.For as if the poet, who received the Nobel Prize in 1996, had made a virtue out of the faltering need for examination, she will elevate the sober statement "I don't know" to her poetological motto and source of inspiration in her Stockholm speech.Three words, "small, but with strong wings", she says. Chains to wings, then, as only art or a poem can do. Tomorrow, Sunday, (2nd of July 2023) Wisława Szymborska will be one hundred years old.
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Source:
ww.faz.net/aktuell/feuilleton/buecher/frankfurter-anthologie/frankfurter-anthologie-wis-awa-szymborska-die-zwei-affen-von-breughel-19002140.html
Alley Boys, "Free At Last" - Chicago 2015 - Stutters enjoying his freedom after spending 11 days in Cook County Jail. www.chuckjines.com/
Sometimes my wife reviews the images I capture on the day upon returning home. Over the years I have been struck at times be her somewhat "unconventional" observations of things related to Railfanning and Railroading...
So, when we were looking at the sequence of shots from Train #14 on my day, she stopped me on this one and said that she liked the way the logos on the faces of the five elephant style locos were positioned in what she called "a visual stutter...like something out of a Peter Gabriel video...you should use that one!"
And here we are!
-BNSF ES44C4s #6709, #6993, C44-9W #4079, ES44C4s #8258. #8385 leading power
-BNSF unknown symbol Wastbound intermodal train
-BNSF (ex-ATSF) Chillicothe Sub, Ancona, MP 95.8
-County Highway 16, Ancona, IL
-March 2, 2018
TT1_2689_edited-1
You know what’s really getting me down about all of this? It’s knowing that a used to wade through much thicker sh*te and a did it all without a second thought. Now, am no saying that my teenage years were the roughest or the toughest going. I didn’t live in no ‘hood or nothing like that, but it had it’s moments, ken?
A mind one night I was out at ma mates flat. His Mum and Dad were away and he was having the obligatory house party that came with an empty parental home. It was a cracking night, all strobe lights, flying cats, heavy metal and a beer or two too many. We all bonded that night the way only teenagers can, the alcohol blowing away aw the cool poses and the nervy stutters. Every bugger was aw hugs and ‘a love you’s’. A will happily say that a got my fair share of ‘you know Gav, yer no such a geek after all’. Fair chuffed, so a was.
I got a bit giddy on all the newfound popularity and lost track of maself, time and if I’m honest, reality in general. It must have been about 5am when it was decided that the party required new fuel. By this stage I should say that the party consisted of me, my three best mates (Antny, Kenny Mooney and Platt) and a load of sleeping lads and lassies. Now, if I drank as much as I did then and stayed up that late now, Jesus, I dinnae ken what would happen but it would assuredly not have a happy ending.
Regardless, my younger self was a hardier, more energetic beast, which is a big part of my ongoing travails if you follow ma drift. So, me and ma pals unperturbed by the lateness of the hour stepped out of the flat in search of adventure and munchies.
Now, bear in mind that at this time, the bonny town of Paisley was the murder capital of Britain. If you were stupit enough to share that it was your hometown with anyone you either got a sh*te joke from them or they wid genuinely back away. What’s more, the area we wur in was one of the hotspots of this rather grizzly activity.
Y’see, there had been some slayings an’ that in the drug world and it had aw got a bit nasty. Now, I have no problem with scum shooting scum if that be the life they choose, but this was bad man, real bad. Dads shot down in front of their wee yins, teenagers caught up wi the wrong role models finding themselves stuck in the jail for deeds they never did and far, far too many eejits were bouncing about the streets high on whatever chemical was in vogue that week.
To be honest, the whole place stank. The atmosphere was tense and edgy as f*ck. What was worse was that all the kickings and the stabbings that were going around spilled into the lives of folks like me and ma pals. We were just stupid wee laddies kicking footballs around and pretending to chase girls. There was f*ck aw in our lives that had prepared us for Chelsea smiles, running street battles and territorial gang b*llocks, but that’s the nonsense that surrounded us and you quickly learnt the language.
Anyway, the four daft amigos stepped out of the relative sanity of the flat and onto the streets. Magic so it was, the world was still asleep and here were we as young as they f*cking come and free as we bloody well liked. That feeling never lasted long though.
We headed for the Garage up the road and that’s when things starting going a bit baws up. We came across three wee guys in the garage forecourt, fourteen years old at the most a reckon. A think they spotted us before we saw them because they were already armed. Empty glass bottles in hand, arms cocked back. A seriously had no clue whit was going on until Platt pushed me out of the way of a flying bottle. It smashed behind me on a wall and, to be blunt, a was too surprised to know whit the f*ck was going on. Antny and Platt were a bit more savvy than me and by the time a had some sort of orientation, they were chasing the wee lads down the street and round the corner.
A set off in hot and drunk pursuit, turning the corner just in time to see Platt, a big fella even then, slamming one of the wee lads into a neat garden hedge and pounding his ribs wi big f*ck off punches. F*ck me, a tell you, that was quite a sight. Ten seconds before I would have given the wee b*gger a kicking myself but with each punch he just seemed to get younger, you know. Platt was oblivious and just kept smacking away, teeth aw gritted, fist sinking in deeper and deeper. In the end we had tae pull him aff, f*ck knows when he would have stopped if we hadn’t. He was going to be hit by some stellar crap in his later life but back then, Platt was a smart, laid back lad, on the outside at the least. I guess like anyone at that age, the surface covers up a very muddled mind.
So, we let the wee guy go and he shot off into the warren of streets to find his mates. You’d think we might take stock and head home wouldn’t ye? But naw, we decided to try the other garage about a mile away. F*ck knows who had that idea but it was up there with their worst.
We were walking up one of the main roads towards the garage when part 2 of the f*cking nightmare came skiting down upon us. A motor flew past us, very much on the wrang side of the road. He clipped the kerb about 100metres from us, spun onto his roof, slid doon the road for about another 50m before hitting the other side of the road, doing an awfy neat flip and landing back on all four wheels. I reckon there was a wee minute of silence from the four of us before we ran down to check if any bugger had survived.
As we got to the car, the driver sprang out jolly as you like.
‘aw right lads’ he shouted ‘do youse wanna see ma swords’
There is no other answer to that question than a polite yes and sure enough, he sprung open his scraped boot and presented to our now very open eyes two pristine samurai swords strapped to his car. Now, there is a lot goin’ on in this story and a would love to explain a little more about what he looked like, what we said and how we were feeling but that would be a distraction cos things were about to turn a whole shade more shit*y.
As our durable companion was talking we heard the roar of a car, a very fast car. He bolted down the street leaving car, swords and the four of us wondering just what we had stepped into. The fast car was now visible and heading straight for us, and when I say straight for us a mean it literally. When it was about 15m from us the driver thumped up onto the pavement and drove his car at us. Two of us dived into bushes, two onto the rather more unforgiving road surface as the mentalist who was driving came all too few metres away from ending our thus far unfulfilled lives. He then clipped the side of the sword mans motor and span off.
Now, the glass bottles was a bit off putting, Platt and his crashing fists a wee bit disturbing, the car crash, well to be honest that was pretty cool but the sword display took us back down in the scary department. But f*ck me, this nutter in his stupid wee Nova just about ran us over, deliberately. He tried to f*cking kill us. Sh*t man a tell you, if we weren’t bonded afore then, we were stuck tight after that. Near death experiences with souped up family cars has that effect on you.
For once in our young lives we were savvy enough to know that heading home was the smart option, and head home we did. Sadly, we did not take into full cognisance the local road layout and as we reached the street where the safety of the party was, who should spin round the corner but Nova man and, as we were soon to find out, his screwdriver wielding mates. Given the lack of success with the mowing us down technique, the bastards went for the good old fashioned chase wi’ knives.
A was fast as f*ck then and was well ahead of the rest but Kenny, ah man, he was no athlete and they got to him. A saw the biggest of them all giving his legs a good kick, sending him face first onto the concrete with a yelp and a thud that proved to be his saving. The group seemed so surprised at the level of Kenny’s terror that they stopped, allowing him to get back to his feet and head off once again.
A still have no idea if they were just playing with us, but we were nae stopping to find out. We louped fences, ran through gardens and finally found home. The sleepers were still sleeping, the cat was still angry but we were stone cold sober.
The thing is, looking back, a wis bothered, but nae that bothered. A had kind of assumed I would get away, A had definitely assumed that this was whit happened on a night out, A assumed that it was alright to think of all of that as a bloody good story to tell. F*cking respect wee Gav. Those were the start of my party days and a had fights, a hud knifes put to my stomach, chest and face, a put in a marathons worth of running and fleeing from the neds and for a while, and of this I say with no pride, a carried ma own knife. Just for protection like.
Still, through aw of that and aw the sh*te that went down, what a really remember is the blazing hot summers on the pitches and the crammed dark nights down in the pub. A remember Oasis at loch Lomond and ma first T in the Park. A remember first kisses and aw the rest. A remember failing exams, scraping into university and dropping straight back out again, but most of all, I remember just being solid you know? Jist solid, as if none of the sh*te that was hurtling ma way could ever stop me for long.
Nowadays? Well, look at me man, whit a joke. All it takes is one outstretched leg and am down on that floor for f*cking weeks. Is it jist me, or does that go for everyone? Is there ever gonna be a time when a can stride through aw the muck and mess of this sh*tey wee life and not gie a f*ck? I guess that’s why am boring you with aw these tales and stories, you know? Just trying to find out when it changed, map out aw the mess in me head and see whit it was a left behind that made me change this way.
So, if ye have any thoughts, feel free to share them.
—Holiday barista so busy, he's trained to be in more than one place at a time.
—Or: Let's see what happens if we try that panorama setting....
Location: Starbucks, 4601 Wyoming Blvd NE just north of Montgomery Blvd NE, Albuquerque, New Mexico 5:00pm
===Arkham Asylum==
There was a blinding yellow light and then, Krill staggered into the room, still reeling from Kuttler's attack. "Cheap shot..." he wheezed, before collapsing onto the floor, a mix of blood and drool dripping out of his mouth.
"Oho, there he is! There's my little bundle of comic relief and profanity!" Joker let out an overjoyed giggle as he rushed to greet him.
"Joker!" Crane snapped impatiently, "He needs medical attention. Now."
"And?" Joker asked disinterestedly. "What do you want me to do about that? Page the Crime Doctor? He blocked me after one too many 'Doctor, Doctor,' jokes, which, in my defense, were absolute killers!"
"No... Doctors... Sugar pills... Top cabinet..." Krill gasped, shrugging Crane off. "I'll be... fine... Just give me someone to kill and... And a banana split... Might... Might also need a rabies shot."
"The Misfitspose aaaaaaaa threat, Joooooooker," Zoom warned, as he watched Krill wolf down his medication.
"Hah! Now there's a sentence that's never been uttered before..." Joker chuckled dismissively. As he attempted to leave the room however, Zoom blocked the doorway.
"No. First theErasaaaaaaaaaser discoveredour lair. Now theyhaveincapacitated theeeeee Pooooolka DotMan. Theymustbe eliminated."
"Now, where's your holiday spirit gone?" Joker looked down at Zoom's hand, and then back at his face, trying to mask his indignation. "All in good time, Hunter," he stated. "I'm in the giving mood right now, and I've promised Julian he'll have his fun with them first."
==Greendale Community College==
The Infirmary
Day 16
Flannegan was lying on a hospital bed, as a nurse doted around him. Sat around him, were Reardon, Rigger, Blake and Chuck, each in varying states of concern.
"Get off! I'm fine, really," he protested, as he pushed the nurse's hand away from his black and blue face. "You shoulda seen the other guy!"
"You mean the one that escaped?" Blake smirked.
"That's not what-" Flannegan spluttered. "Blame the science geek, I had the spotted bastard dead to rights."
"Didn't he drop a microwave on you?" Rigger butted in.
"It was a filing cabinet!"
"Is he going to be alright, miss?" Reardon asked, narrowly dodging a flying fruit cup intended for Joey.
"He took quite a beating, but he'll be fine," the nurse replied. "Just don't use that arm against any more Polka Dot Men for a while," she advised Flannegan with a clear hint of sarcasm.
"He was real!" he protested once more, as he attempted to get out of the hospital bed. His advances were interrupted by a commotion outside, as the voices of Kuttler and the Dean grew louder and louder.
"Noah, please, you can't just leave. Where am I supposed to get another computing studies teacher on such short notice?" Pelton was pleading with him. "You were going to show me how to use Excel!"
"Frankly, that's none of my concern," Kuttler retorted. "Hire Answer, hell: hire Cluemaster for all I care- see if you can piece his skull back together, I imagine it's like a particular irritating jigsaw puzzle... Oh, and check your basement, because there is definitely a sex computer down there. I know that frequency."
"Sex computer?" Pelton's brow furrowed, as he stopped in his tracks. "Wait up-" he began, but Kuttler had already reached the infirmary, and made sure to lock the door behind him. He then approached the Misfits, and placed a small glass bottle, filled with small yellow pills, onto the table beside Flannegan.
"Diaxymine," he stated. "Should cancel out the effects of the Fearless drug on your rotund friend."
"Woah woah woah, that's potent stuff. Who's to say it won't just fry his mind?" Rigger asked anxiously.
"No one, of course, but there was a guard here that stockpiled the stuff," Kuttler deflected. "From what I was able to piece together, he was some kind of supervillian, went by the name 'Chinese Tiger.'"
"We... appreciate the gesture, but if it's all the same to you, I think we'll wait until we're back in Gotham, and cure him then," Chuck spoke, as he slid the glass bottle into his yellow utility belt for safe keeping.
"Fine. Use it or don't," Kuttler shrugged, standing back up. "But when your sauce spraying friend tears your throat out, remember I gave you an out," he replied, as he walked back towards the exit. "I'll see you in the courtyard tomorrow. That is, if the offer still stands."
"It does- I mean, sure, great!" Chuck stuttered, a little taken aback by Kuttler's sudden change of heart. "But... what about that ankle monitor?" he asked, pointing down at Kuttler's feet. "Shouldn't we-?"
"That old thing?" Kuttler looked down, and to The Misfits' surprise, casually unbuckled it and dropped it in the bin. "I reprogrammed that months ago. I just fancied the time off."
"Right, of course you did," Chuck tutted. "What exactly changed your mind?"
Kuttler glanced over at Blake before answering. "Let's just say I had an enlightening talk with one of your teammates," he smirked, before turning back to face them. "Oh, and of course, thanks to you, Abner Krill knows where I am and he'll want revenge: The first thing he'll do once he's healed, will be to sell off my location to the Society remnants I testified against. And frankly, I'm simply too emotionally drained to draft a countermeasure against Bane or his allies... I could do with the meat shields."
"Bane's in Slabside, bud, he's not going anywhere," Blake reassured him.
"The same Slabside that Killer Moth broke into a month ago?" Kuttler spoke, as he raised a condemning eyebrow.
"Ok, fair point," he swallowed.
"Uh-huh. The courtyard. Tomorrow at 12pm. Don't keep me waiting," he ordered them, before leaving the way he came, still swatting away Pelton's advances.
"Well, he seemed lovely," Ten said dryly.
~-~
Gar was slumped against the wall, waiting for Chuck as he exited the infirmary, flicking his lighter on and off obsessively
"You shouldn't smoke indoors," Chuck advised him.
"I wasn't." Gar confessed. "So. Who won? The game, I mean," he clarified.
"Funny you should ask: the Dean called it off. Apparently, some Freddy Krueger lookalike ran onto the campus, and threatened a hundred students with a flamethrower."
"Jeez, what're the chances?" Gar wondered aloud.
"Oh, I dunno... One in a million," Chuck replied, eyeing him up.
Gar paused. "I... might have been projecting my anger onto a bunch of amateur cosplayers.
"Not to worry, we've all been there."
"Still, Krueger. Nice chance of pace. About a dozen students stopped me earlier and said 'Nice Deadpool, bro. Have a chimichanga on me.' Irritating as hell," he frowned. "He gonna be ok?" he changed trajectory.
"Flannegan? He's tough, he'll pull through," Chuck reiterated.
"Not who I meant," Gar spoke, as he watched Mayo shuffle past them into the infirmary, a bunch of crumpled flowers in his hand, no doubt a last minute gift, hand-picked from the gardens.
"Yeah," Chuck replied. "We'll get him cured once we're back in Gotham. If we ever make it..." he added tiredly.
"We will. Drury has a plan, I know it," Gar vouched for him. "But it's weird, right? I mean, you and I both know what Fearless can do to a person; the chaos, the anger, the devastation... it turned you into a reckless thrill-seeker, submerged Two-Face's better half and it barely even worked on Dekker. Kid could've killed us all if he wanted to, or at least try. Yet even with that crap pumping through his veins; nothing holding him back; free to do anything, say anything without consequence, all Mayo really wanted, was to win a damn paintball game. just gain a little bit- a tiny sliver of recognition from his peers."
Chuck reflected on this, and pulled the glass bottle of Diaxymine out of his belt to examine it.
"What's the stuff Kuttler gave you anyway?" Gar inquired.
"Supposed to be Anti-Psychotics," Chuck explained.
"'Supposed to be,'" Gar rolled his eyes. "Between you and me, I'm pretty sick of experimental drugs."
"Boy, I hear you there..." he chuckled softly. "Listen, Gar-"
"What?" he snapped suddenly.
"Just... I'm sorry about Jenna."
Gar's features softened, as he flicked his lighter shut. "Me too."
==Study Room F==
Day 17
"So, this is what you wear for a living, huh?" Jeff raised an eyebrow at both Blake and Chuck's suits.
"I don't know, you fill that costume out nicely," Britta smiled.
"I made you boys sandwiches for the journey home," Shirley said, offering Chuck an enormous bag of filled sandwiches. Though unlikely to eat them himself, due to the high fat content, Chuck felt it best not to tell her, and instead thanked Shirley politely.
Chuck hugged the girls, shook Jeff's hand and patted Troy and Abed on the back. "Pierce," he nodded. "It has been an experience."
"Urgh, I'm always getting shafted," he grumbled. "But not as much as Jeff in gay bars," he chuckled.
"Dude, read the room," Blake shook his head disapprovingly.
Chuck looked over at the Misfits' table, where Mayo had been silently drawing for a while, and took a deep breath. "Hey, buddy," he approached, examining each of his sketches. "Who's this guy?"
"Malcolm Fleming. He's a cucumber," Mayo sniffed.
"And this one, that his friend?" Chuck pointed to the second figure.
"Stephen Tucker. A gherkin."
Chuck smiled, as he reached into his rucksack and handed Mayo a large parcel. "Here. I want you to have this. I know it's not perfect. Dekker, for all his quirks, knows how to make a suit much better than I ever could, but I made I do."
"I don't understand. You're not mad?" he asked, puzzled.
"It's paintball, Mitch," Chuck winked. "No one got hurt. That's the main thing."
"Flannegan might disagree there-" Blake calmly pointed out.
"Most people didn't get hurt, Chuck corrected himself, shooting daggers Blake's way. "Thing is, you're one of us. A Misfit, Mitch. It's time we treated you like one."
"Thank you," Mitch nodded sincerely, as he pulled the black and red costume from out of the bag. "I love it."
"What about it, Jeff? A final rousing speech?" Abed asked.
Jeff smirked. "Actually, Abed, I think Chuck should do the honours."
"Actually, we really have to go," Chuck began, as he rose to his feet. "Kuttler would kill us if we're late. Literally, probably... Look, they're your people, Jeff. Look after them, love them. Care for them. Because remember, they may all be misfits, but together, you're all so much stronger."
"Well, I don't know if I'd class myself as a misfit-" Britta began, her protests drowned out by the Study Group's collective groans.
"Then find another name," Chuck encouraged them. "But find it together. Because, uh, because that one's already taken- branding was always Drury's thing."
"Ooh, actually have a couple ideas in mind." Annie said, as she pulled out a massive binder. Jeff looked up at Chuck, and smiled gratefully. Chuck nodded back and rested his hand on the door handle. 'Hell Yeah.'
"Oh, before I forget- in two or three days, you might be emailed a YouTube link from a Montgomery Sharpe. Don't open it," he added.
As Chuck left, Troy turned back to the rest of the group. "Do any of you guys know who that is?"
~-~
"Drury, you're always gonna do something stupid... That's why I love you. We'll win. We always do, you old softie. Because we don't-?"
Because we don't give up. Yeah. Someday. Because of you.."
"You're just tired Drury, that's all. Just tired."
"To doing something stupid," Drury lamented.
"You were flashing back, weren't you?"
"I'm sorry?" Drury asked, turning his head away from the trophy cabinet.
Abed shrugged. "Just now. It looked like you were having a flashback to something."
Walker smiled weakly. "Yeah, yeah. something like that."
"I'm Abed," he said, offering him his hand.
"Drury," Walker nodded as he shook his hand.
"Yo, Abed, could you give us some space please?" Chuck asked.
"Cool," he replied, as he disappeared down the hall. "Cool cool cool."
"Kuttler's on board," Chuck revealed. "He'll want to be paid obviously, but I think we can probably pull enough money together, right?"
"Yeah, Joe texted me," he nodded. "What happened to you anyway?" Drury asked, eying Chuck's shattered visor suspiciously, "I thought it was just a paintball game."
"Oh, I died," Chuck said bashfully. "Well, I should've. Mitch used condiments, so it didn't technically count."
"Ah. Typical, really," Drury winked. He looked down at his watch.
"C'mon, we shouldn't keep the others waiting," he said, glancing at the otherwise empty, paint soaked hallway.
"Sure," Drury lay his hand on the trophy cabinet and smiled faintly, gesturing to a framed photo. "Here, take a look at this, please: Gotham University, interschool basketball championships 2001, I actually competed in that- I'm the scrawny kid with the broken leg, see? And, sure, the Mathletes lost, but that's life, ain't it?"
"Yeah..." Chuck smiled encouragingly.
"And there, in the opposing team's photo... There she is. My Tiger Lily. Funny coincidence, right?" Drury, was pointing to a blond girl in the back. "Didn't even know she existed. Imagine."
"I guess," Chuck nodded.
"Just like that time in Gaige's office, or that Janus Christmas party... I missed out on several more happy years because... because I didn't know what was right in front of me."
Chuck bowed his head. "I never believed in all that star-crossed, meant-to-be kind of love myself. First Maria, then Pam. But you and Miranda? I think that maybe, maybe that was the closest thing to it. And, I dunno, maybe the universe knew that too. You look at these photos and you see it as a missed opportunity, sure. But I see it as a gift. You got to know that the two of you had more time together than even you knew."
"Maybe," Drury said softly, his eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you."
"Any time," Chuck replied, before changing the subject back to the here and now. "I finally read those files by the way. The ones we stole from Batman. You know what that Zolomon guy can do, right? He's not just fast, he slows down time. And it's not just him, I mean look at the Pirate, or Pike. I mean, we joke, but Carson beat the crap out of us last time. And seeing what Krill of all people did to Flannegan... Even with Kuttler backing us, I just don't know." Chuck nodded solemnly. "Like, you do realise that we can't just drive back into Gotham in a highly conspicuous Bat-Truck? The Bats will be on us before we even reach city limits."
"I know," Drury responded. "I know. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have a plan, Chuck. Maybe not a good one, definitely not a popular one, but I do have one. It's just... You're not gonna like it."
"Well, that's a first," Chuck joked.
"Hah. Stick to the herbal tea, Chuck," Drury smiled back. "Let someone else handle the sarcasm."
~-~
"God, that was the longest six months of my life," Flannegan declared, as he stretched his back out, the rest of the Misfits following closely behind him.
"We were there three weeks, tops," Rigger pointed out.
"I know what I said," Flannegan replied stiffly.
As they walked out to the courtyard, Blake and Joey jumped back in fright, Gar and Flannegan drew their weapons, Kuttler ducked behind Walker and Reardon took a deep breath.
Waiting for them outside, flanked by some twenty armed men, was The Great White Shark. Behind him, the Bookworm nodded to Walker affirmatively.
"Look, boys. Hitchhikers," White joked. "A little bug told me you lot needed a lift."
"Uh, Drury?" Chuck asked, awaiting an explanation.
"I mean, I said you wouldn't like it."
==Gotham City==
Hellhound exited the Stacked Deck through the back alley and smiled, riffling through a stack of newly acquired green bills. All in a day's work... Dekker would take his cut, of course: but there was no need to split it evenly. After all, he was the one doing all the work. A trash can toppled over behind him, and he spun around. "Who's there?" he called out to the dark, reaching for the knife in his pocket.
"Your worst nightmares. Your nastiest dreams," a raspy voice hissed.
Hellhound stumbled back in fright, tripping over an empty tin of cat food. "Hey, no hard feelings, man," he insisted. "I didn't actually believe in any of that crap: It was just a trick, a con, a dirty grift! I didn't actually do anything: that thing, with the knife and the fat guy? That was all the Misfits, I swear!"
"I believe you," the King of Cats agreed, as he bent down, and licked his face. "Good doggy."
"Ahem," a second voice called out. "Sorry to intrude upon this, ah, tender moment, but my partners have a proposal for you."
"Ah, the clever-clogs," the King recognised Day. "How did you find us?"
"I followed the smell," Day said stiffly.
"Oho," The King laughed. "Clever!"
"You've taken a new form, I see," Day noted. "Which poor unfortunate host is it this time?"
"A City Counsellor from Hub City. A frequent adulterer not worth your pity," the King giggled maliciously, the moonlight glinting off of his leather catsuit.
"Curious. But what if I told you that we could do better? Restore you to your former glory: So to speak."
"I'm listening," the King replied, his green eyes narrowing. "But if you don't mind, first, I'd like to finish my supper," he announced, gesturing to Hellhound's incapacitated body.
Julian's skin crawled. He despised being the middle man between the clown and these... creeps. "Do what you have to. Just don't make a mess."
"Clever Clogs, please," the King scowled. "I make no such promises."
Army Rangers log
We got a call to go assist some shock troopers with their wounded when we got to their position I realized who was wounded a younger soldier wearing Army ranger gear was lying on the ground his arm lying not to far away blood every were. Speedy I screamed as I threw down my M60 and sprinted towards him and the shock troopers, Boonie was right be hind me. HeY BoSs he stuttered and then fell unconscious..........
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The last of this mini series
Super Natural British Columbia is our province's slogan. My husband and I took the ferry to Powell River earlier this week, and this is pretty much the view the whole way...nothing but trees and mountains and sparkling blue water. Not too shabby.
I had a couple of misadventures in PR practically the minute I stepped off the ferry. First we went to the bike shop so Dal could pick up a bike he'd had fixed. He saw a secondhand bike in the shop for a great price, so he bought it for me for my birthday that's coming up. While he was talking "bike talk" with the shop owner, I got the dogs out of the van and walked with them on a strip of mown grass along the highway. I saw an attractive bunch of daffodils growing and was busy contorting myself into a position to take a picture when I saw a woman barreling towards me. I snapped the picture just as she called out, quite nastily, that I was on private property. She had crossed about an acre and a half of land in order to tell me this and she must've set out the second she saw us because we'd only been there a couple of minutes. I stuttered an apology and told her I thought the property was part of the bike shop. "I hate dogs!" she informed me. Stunned, I asked her to repeat what she'd said, which she gladly did. And so forth and so on...let's just say she was not a happy camper. But I hope she was happy with the $500 or so that my husband spent in their store!
We then had lunch in the cafe next door. After lunch I went in search of a bathroom. One door was marked "Staff Bathroom" and it was occupied. I opened an unmarked door and got a view of a man sitting on a toilet, his face in his hands. Again, I found myself apologizing and stumbling backwards.
I think there might be a ban on me entering Powell River now!
...Henricus, The so called Papa (and more) had been captures, first he was stripped of any of his bourgeoisie adornments of gilded jewelry and his priestly papal crown... all while dirty working class workers and peasants screamed nasty words like: strip the upperclass pig from all his riches and then his pride...
or:
Ha, ha, is this the one that once was King, then self proclaimed religious leader, he looks so small not a king at all...
Some spat at him and other threw dirt an faeces at him...
then later on they brought him to the Tree-dungeon for "special interrogation"
Here a blond stutterer with a really friendly face greeted him:
H-h-h-hey Mr. H-H-Henricus, or should I call you pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-p-p-p-paa?
I I I I I have just arrived ba-b-ba-ba-ck f-f-f-f-f-rom a study abroad, I was in la-la-la-la-tin a-a-a-a-merica and studi-st-st-studied Mental torture and interrogation techniques with the gue-guer-guer-il-il-illa, They though me th-th-thi-thi-this technique, Thay callled it bashing the Cat or pinjata, bu-b-bu-b-bu-but I ha-ha-have renamed it bashing the capitalist pig!
The Forestmen was the only part of the alliance that hadn´t signed the queens legal document banning all for of torture...
The king screamed, I need something to drink!!! have mercy I was once your ally against the hordes of the barbarians!
one nice Wolf-pack soldier had some mercy and came with a goblet filled with crystal clear water... the king gulped down all in one go!!!
No it was water, You fool, that was water, then he had a fit and passed out...
The friendly looking Dungeon-torture-master looked really, sad, he had already handed out canes...
then he said: we-we-well, I guess we ha-ha-have to wait until he wakes up again!
Today's been pretty ace so far! For one thing it's Thursday, which for me is like Friday in terms of school, and I have a four day weekend up ahead :D
I also had to give a short presentation and instead of being the stuttering, sweaty mess I normally am, I managed to hold it together and get an A! Woohoo!!
On the way home we drive across Jordan Lake, and today it was absoluuuutely covered in fog, something we don't get to see very often around here. When it snowed last week it also completely froze over, and I have some photos I've yet to edit from that. That'll be a weekend project! Really though, you could walk across the lake, which is insane for central NC.
In general, it feels good to be up and about again with a structured schedule, working on assignments and achieving things on the regular. As awesome as it is having nothing but free time, eventually you get into a lazy slump out of which it's hard to crawl. Three cheers to productivity :P
Hope everyone's started the year off well so far!! xxx
"-Now the first inmate of the newly reopened Arkham Asylum, Jonathan Crane, alias The Scarecrow was apprehended by the GCPD in the early hours of the morning. His accomplice, Otis Flannegan, alias The Ratcatcher, was discovered badly injured beneath the Cobblepot Subway lines, with enough evidence to tie both himself and Crane to the string of childnappings across the city. Though the current whereabouts of these children are unknown, Commissioner Gordon promises that he'll utilise every method at his disposal to get answers from the perpetrators and return the children safely to their families."
"Kidnapping children, now, Leonard... Is there no low these monsters won't fall?" Walker mused to his associates. Fiasco nodded half heartedly. In another corner of the room, Paul Dekker lowered his paint brush, and raised a bony thumb in agreement. Drake scoffed. "Drubert, you have no idea. Back in my day, Supervillainy was an art form. Flashy costumes, dazzling charisma, stage presence unlike anything you'd have ever seen! These days it's all grime and filth. What was that assassin's gimmick?"
"Mr Lawton? I tried reaching out, but-"
"Guns!" Drake bellowed. "What kind of motif is there to be had with shallow gunplay? If the Injustice Society had ever-"
"You were in the Injustice Society, were you, Morty? Dekker interrupted, applying a fine brush stroke to his painting. "You've never said..." he murmured sarcastically.
Drake looked down at him, adjusted his hat, then stormed back upstairs.
"In other news, Wayne Enterprises Chairman Lucius Fox has announced that himself and Wayne Heir Bruce Wayne will be travelling to Paris this week, for their annual shareholders meeting. Wayne stock has gone up two percent since-"
"Wayne..." Fiasco muttered bitterly. "Bruce stinkin' Wayne."
Drury turned to him curiously. "Do... You want an autograph? You know, I *am* on the museum board, I could-"
...
"No, Dru," he sighed. "It's dumb, it's childish. But back in school, there was this girl I liked. Celia Smith. Big brown eyes, blonde curls, and everything. I wasn't an ugly kid, alrigh', but... Well, you try getting her attention when you share a classroom with Bruce freakin' Wayne. Didn't stop me trying, mind, but you see, I wasn't the brightest kid neither. Always rubbing out mistakes. "Ooh, look at the Eraser," they said, I wouldn't have had that problem if I just used fuckin' white-out, I guess. But the name stuck, and the next thing I knew Celia's going off to the Ice Carnival with Wayne. I knew, that if I hadn't been in detention that day, I could've asked her! Detention, all because of my stupid mistakes... Do you think, boss, that he actually saw a future with her? Because I don't. You see all those models he goes out with? You think he sees any kind of future with *them*? He just doesn't care, boss, didn't care about Celia, didn't care about me. I just wish she knew that I did, ok? I cared."
"Leonard-"
"Look, drop it. What's done is done."
Walker nods. "Of course. I meant no disrespect."
Fiasco sighs. "I know. I know, I get it," wandering off. Drury turns back to Dekker, proudly showing off his self portrait. His skin was green, and his moustache was blue, but the likeness was good enough, Drury thought to himself.
===Keystone City, 10:53 AM===
The next day, Drury Walker took a bus to Keystone City. He got a few odd looks, but he could manage that. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugged on his collar, and adjusted his tie. She was gonna love this. Four hours later, he got off the bus, and walked the rest of the way. It was liberating in it's own way. No Fiasco or Dekker, no need to pretend, no need for the accent or the fancy words. He could just be there. With her. He places his hand on the fence, smiling. An actual, white picket fence- a rarity. A sign that today, today was going to be a great day.
"Drury, is that you?"
"Hi Lou," Walker smiles, as he leads a pony into the garden. Upon seeing him, his daughter runs to him, landing in his arms at the speed of a truck.
"Daddy! You're back!" she grins, planting kiss upon kiss on his face, trapping him in her arms.
"Of course I am, kitten! Couldn't forget about you, now could I? I brought you someone-"
She sees it, and squeals in delight. "A pony?!"
"He's called Othello, and he's yours on one condition-"
"Ahem." Katie's foster mom stands in the doorway, a coat over her dressing gown. "Drury. A word."
Walker nods, and places his hand on Katie's shoulder "I'll be right back."
===The kitchen===
Alison hands Drury the pot of sugar, and he proceeds to empty five cubes into his tea. She rubs her face, keeping a close eye on her husband, Lewis, trying to saddle Katie up on the pony.
"A pony Drury, really?"
Walker stares at the table, avoiding eye contact, stirring the cup. "It's her birthday..."
'No, her birthday is on the sixteenth."
Walker- Well, a little early but-
Ally- Of June.
...
She takes the pot and places it back in the cupboard, sighing. "Where did you get it? Is it stolen?"
Walker stutters. "No, Ally, it's not like that, I- Morty gave it to me."
She chokes on her tea. "Morty.... Morty... Oh my god, that was *you*! You broke him out! That's why the fucking accent's back!"
"I just- He's practically family-," he starts.
Ally- I knew, I knew it! You said you were gonna change, get out of prison, and *change*!
Walker mumbles something as he stirs his tea with a chocolate finger. "She's my kid, I just... I just wanted to impress her."
"Oh, I'm sure she's very impressed! Her dad robbed six banks and burst open a prison!"
Walker places his tea on the table and rubs his eyes.
...
"Gar's dead."
====Gotham City, 16:05====
Fiaco looked out his apartment window. Every morning, he'd wake up and the first thing he'd see was Wayne Tower staring back at him. At night, he'd struggle to sleep, it's neon lettering mocking him, every hour of the day. It was funny, most people would kill for a view like that. He'd settle for anywhere else. There was a knocking at the door, Walker, if the rhythmic pattern was any indication. Just what he needed. After they lost Lynns, he'd gotten more reserved, less, well, camp, but he still, at the end of the day, dressed like a flamboyant insect... He always dreaded their chats.
Walker smiled, handing him a bright package, held inside a scrubby looking plastic bag.
"Here," he began, bags under his eyes. "After you told me about what happened between you and Miss Smith, I couldn't help but ask for Dekker's expertise. Open it."
"I told you to drop it, it's fine," Fiasco mumbled as he undid the string binding it together.
"No. No it's not. Bruce Wayne took that young lady from you. What might have been a wonderful relationship never was, and Miss Smith was used like Playboys always use beautiful women, as a plaything for the night-"
"We were sixte-"
"And you, were cast to the wayside, taunted for your mistakes. *Sigh* I've been where you were, Leonard. Mocked. Derided. I know what that can to do to a person. This suit, will begin to set things right. Please, just give it a chance."
Len looked down at the yellow and black suit jacket, silently staring for several minutes. "I- It's beautiful."
==Greendale Cafeteria==
Day 2
As the study group looked for a table, they spotted Chuck, Blake and Flannegan sitting together, each sat at opposite ends of the table. As Annie moved towards them, Jeff raised an arm forward to block her.
"Don't sit with them," he warned, as she caught Chuck's eye. He smiled, and waved over at them warmly.
"Well, I'm going to sit with them," Britta announced, as Annie and Shirley followed suit.
"Oh, come on- Don't- I specifically said don't..." Jeff mumbled, as the girls sat beside Chuck and Flannegan. Chuck waved at them cheerily, and went back to eating his sandwich.
As Mayo entered, he paused, and made a 180 degree turn away from the group, sitting at the far end of the hall instead.
"Why's he not sitting with us?" Britta asked.
Chuck ran his hand through his hair, struggling to think of an acceptable explanation. "Oh, that's Mayo's- he's well-" he fumbled.
"Simple. He's simple. Doesn't gel with us, at all," Blake nodded firmly.
"Arkham was tough on him," Chuck continued. "Tough on all of us, I guess, but he's the Condiment King. That doesn't exactly inspire a lot of respect. Or, um, any."
"Wait, he was in Arkham City?" Britta interjected.
Chuck's eyes widened, as he noted his mistake. "No, I- I mean-" he stuttered.
"Wait here," she instructed the others, as she got up and walked off towards him.
"Yeah, it's terrible, you know I was in Arkham City too-" Blake called after her, stirring his milkshake with his straw absent mindedly. Before he could say anything damning however, Chuck swiftly kicked him under the table.
"Oh, boohoo!" Flannegan yelled back loudly. "I lived in the sewers!"
The group glared at Flannegan.
"Yeah, but that's, like, a lifestyle choice," Blake replied sternly.
"I know," Flannegan said defensively, as he licked his plate of squeezy cheese clean. "But while we're sharing-"
~
"I protested Arkham City, you know," Britta began, patting Mayo on the shoulder. He looked up from his pasta, and smiled uneasily.
"Oh, well. That's good," he nodded.
Britta nodded. "Savages. Screw the government. We the people have the right to rule ourselves."
Mayo shifted uncomfortably, before standing to his feet. "Cool. Yeah, that's good. I'm just gonna get an orange juice from the cafeteria. I hope there's... pulp," he said unconvincingly, before running out the building.
~
Abed stood above Chuck, a tray laden with buttered noodles in his hand. His best friend, Troy, slid in beside Blake.
"I've made a decision, and I'm willing to see how this goes," Abed announced to Chuck.
"That's great, buddy," he smiled back.
"But there are some things you should know first," he declared, leaning in beside him.
"Hey, you're not eating?" Troy asked, glancing at Blake's empty tray.
"Nah, there, uh, was a monkey raking through the salad bowl," Blake said, a little unsure of himself.
"Oh, that's Annie's Boobs," Troy said proudly, a smile on his face. "I named him after-"
He gestured over to Annie. Blake waved at her and proceeded to eye her up and down. As she adjusted her blouse, he turned back to Troy and nodded in approval. "You'll go far kid."
"Thanks," he replied, blushing slightly.
"Hey! What the hell is this?" a voice yelled out indignantly.
Blake spun around. Looking at them, was an older man in his late sixties- Pierce, the last member of the study group. "Oh, hi, I was just teaching Troy how to... Fish," Blake began.
"Come on, you think I don't know a Booty Band when I see one?" Pierce said suspiciously.
Blake paused. "We prefer the term Pussy Patrol."
"No, we do not," Troy muttered behind him.
"Gah!" Pierce exclaimed. "You lot never invite me to anything! What, you think that just because I'm a little older-"
"- A lot older-" Blake noted.
"-I can't pick up chicks? I'm twice the ladies man you two geeks are. I banged Eartha Kitt."
Blake raised an eyebrow. "When?"
...
"I dunno, when she was hot, I guess. So can I join in?"
Blake looked at Pierce, then placed his hand on Troy's shoulder. "Troy. Sidebar."
His voice lowered. "What's his game like?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
Troy shrugged. "He's rich?"
Blake shook his head. "Not gonna work for me, I like to hunt."
"Awesome. And a little gross."
"The answer is no, old man," Blake snarled, turning back to Pierce. "And, for your information, Eartha Kitt was always hot."
"Screw you guys, I'll make my own Pussy Patrol," he scowled back.
"Ew," Blake winced, yelling after him. "You make it sound gross! It doesn't work without the double entendre!"
"I'd watch yourself around Pierce, Blake," Abed interjected, soda in hand. "He's a serial rapist."
"Please," Blake said, puffing his chest out. "I was possessed by one."
Troy and Abed looked over at him. "In Dungeons and Dragons?"
Blake paused, as he mulled it over. "Yes."
"There's something off about those guys," Jeff shook his head, as he observed the Misfits.
"Hm?" Annie asked distractedly.
"I'm just saying. Don't you think there's something off about them?" Jeff asked.
"Oh. Maybe," she said, in an effort to protect Jeff's feelings.
==Study Room F==
Day 3
"What the Dekk..."
Blake looked up from the table. Dressed in a multicoloured, patchwork robe, and looking very much like Crazy Quilt, was the Dean.
As Jeff waited expectantly for the Dean to clutch his shoulder, he instead strutted past him, and grabbed Chuck's instead.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, Britta, in partnership with Lloyd Webber Andrews, Greendale is offering up tickets to see Joseph and his Technicolour Dean-Coat, live-! At the Greendale sound stage," he announced, trailing off.
"Dean, do you mean Andrew Lloyd Webber?" Shirley asked in a sing-song, yet condescending tone.
"No, I do not. It's Greendale, Shirley, get some perspective," the Dean said, as he walked off.
"Does he, uh, do this often?" Chuck whispered, gesturing to the colourful costume.
Collectively, the group bit their lips, and nodded forlornly.
===The Trailer===
Day 4
"So? What about Kuttler?" Drury inquired.
"Weeeell, it's complicated," Chuck admitted. "We talked to him after class, but he wanted nothing to do with us. Partly because of that business in Nanda Parbat, partly because we're kinda parked in his space. Since then, he's taken to locking his door between lectures, so we can't even reach him now."
"Ah, you'll get through to him, I know it," Drury said assuredly. "Are the dorms serving you alright, at least?" he asked.
"Oh, we don't get much sleep," Chuck chuckled slyly.
"Don't tell me you're having sex?" Drury asked apprehensively.
"Oho, far from it!" Mayo declared, nudging Chuck proudly. "We made a blanket fort!"
"Are you five?" Gar tutted, lowering his laptop. "You said you were hanging out with a couple of students?" he continued. "You think they're clean?"
"I don't think they're Carsons in disguise, if that's what you're asking," Chuck said.
"Look, I say stick with them," Drury nodded. "Might be good to have someone who knows the lay of the land. Someone to help point out the tropes, clichés, etcetera... While you're at it, be sure to find out their stances on crass humour, farcical violence, GLOW too. That one's particular important to me, as you well know."
"Yes, don't we all..." Reardon muttered.
"What was that?" Drury spun around.
"No, yeah," he nodded. "Sounds like a plan."
Chuck shifted around in his seat uneasily. "Yeah, I don't think that's a good idea, Drury. I- Well, we had a slip-up on Tuesday that nearly blew our cover. I don't think it's all that smart to-"
"My-oh-my, what a cute couple!" a familiar voice bellowed outside.
Concerned, The Misfits peered out the window. Flannegan had cornered a pair of students, his eyes red and bloodshot. "Walk in front of me again, and I'll ram your cute faces into a fuse box. I've done it to twelve pensioners, I'm not stopping because you're young," Flannegan called out, as he climbed into the trailer. "Fuck!"
"Having fun, Otis?" Rigger asked, smiling slightly.
"You, can shut up and all. First things first, Pandemic Awareness class isn't about preventing pandemics, it's about causing them."
"You knew what you were getting into," Chuck said, turning to Drury. "Did you know that Hellfern's the teacher?"
Otis continued, scowling. "Badass Class ain't about badasses either, it's some perverted seminar on flat butts."
"Oh, no," Rigger said, shaking his head. "I actually read about that one. It's spelled "Bad Ass class," with a space in-between. Totally on you."
"'Course that's the one you look up," Lynns tutted.
"And worst!" Flannegan finished, slamming his bag onto the table, "The Dean's a bald Dekker. Fucker won't let go of my abs."
"Otis, that was me," Chuck corrected him.
"What abs?" Blake chuckled, standing in the doorway.
"And where are my pens?!" Otis snapped at him, as he searched through his bag feverishly.
"What, you mean the pens you stole from Kuttler?" Blake asked, bemused.
"The pens I liberated from Kuttler. Five second rule, asshole. Where are they? God, I bet those fuckers took 'em," he exclaimed, as he bolted out the door.
"Oh, no." Chuck groaned. "Otis! Otis, it's not worth it man."
The Misfits all turned to face Chuck, their faces eyeing him up suspiciously.
"What?" Chuck sighed, as he pulled the pen out of his back pocket. For a moment, he just stared at it, horrified.
"You stole Flannegan's pens?" Gar asked, sounding ever so slightly impressed.
"Well, I didn't think he'd miss one," he called out, as he slid the pen into Drury's hanging jacket, and rushed after Flannegan, Blake joining him.
As Drury eyes followed the pair out of the room he groaned. "Ah, crap."
"What?" Gar asked.
"We just became the B-Plot."
==Study Room F==
"Hey, dickheads!" Flannegan bellowed, kicking the door aside.
"Or hello, as people used to say," Jeff retorted sarcastically, texting on his phone disinterestedly.
"Shut it, Hammerhead!"
Flannegan flung the papers off the desk, enraged. Annie immediately began reorganising them. Next, he leapt onto the table, to the study group's horror. "Where's my pen? Where's my pen? Where's my fucking pen?"
Abed looked up at him, inspired. "Oh. We're swearing now? I really hope they censor that in the edit."
"Otis, calm down... The monkey probably took it," Jeff sighed, not looking up from his phone.
"He has a name you know," Troy mumbled.
"We all know," the group answered back, exasperated.
Pierce looked over at Jeff, and frowned. "Hey, I want to find the pen as much as anyone, but let's not bring race into it."
The group turned to him next, disgusted. "... We didn't."
As Flannegan went for his knife, the door flung open.
"Oh, Otis, there you are!" Chuck coughed, out of breath. "Let's all just take a breather, don't stab anyone and- Blake," he instructed.
He snapped his fingers, and Blake jumped on the table, wrapped his arms around Flannegan's waist, and lifted him up off the ground.
"He's fine most days, I swear," Chuck swallowed.
"I'll kill all of you!" Flannegan twitched maniacally.
"Oh, you..." Blake chuckled, as he pulled him off of the table with a surprising amount of ease.
"Hah! Bad case of the Mondays, that's all" Chuck laughed nervously, as he and Blake dragged Otis from the room, still screaming.
"It's Thursday," Shirley stated.
Chuck pondered this. "It's a really bad case."
Greater Prairie-Chicken (Tympanuchus cupido)
This beautiful bird in on the 2014 State of the Birds Watch List, which lists bird species that are at risk of becoming threatened or endangered without conservation action.
A grouse of open grassland, the Greater Prairie-Chicken is known for its mating dance. Males display together in a communal lek, where they raise ear-like feathers above their heads, inflate orange sacs on the sides of their throats, and stutter-step around while making a deep hooting moan.
"Oh, hey L-ana. What's up? I thought you wanted space?" I ask, slightly stuttering my words throughout. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Teresa's friends helping her up, making their way towards the bathroom. I open the nearby sliding door, and take a few steps out onto the balcony, with Lana following behind me. She suddenly stops, which causes me to almost slip when I turn around. Luckily, I'm able to catch myself before anything embarrassing happens.
"I thought that was what I needed Peter. Time to figure everything out. You left without so much as a goodbye.. I know you were probably off saving the world or something. But it just really hurt! I was alone, once again. Cheyenne left town, and Harry, well, did his best to move on. With everything that I've gone through with my shitty excuse of a mother, I didn't want to be left by myself again. And yet, I was alone. Alone to face the fact that my mother's now out there out of prison, raising hell, with no one to talk to about it. I mean sure, there's school councilors.. But they just don't get it, in the same way that you do. You see the best in people, even when they don't necessarily deserve it. I sure as hell didn't.. For everything I've done in my past as Bombshell. But you saw past it. You're the reason I was able to make it through that first day at Midtown, and the many days after it. I've come to realize that it hurts more not having you in my life. Talking about the silliest of things, like Sparkles, and other bizarre people you encounter. I miss it all."
"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like it if you called him that to his face." I say, trying to lighten the mood, before continuing on with my train of thought. "I'm sorry Lana. I honestly am. If I could've said goodbye before leaving for two months, I would've. One minute I was on the subway, and the next I was somewhere else. Which is where I learned about the Spider-Verse. Thousands of different earths, all with their own Spider person. It all probably sounds like gibberish to you, and that's p-" I'm interrupted by her moving closer, kissing me seconds later. I can feel myself getting flustered, with my face going beat red. This is definitely not how I saw tonight going. Moments later, she pulls away from me, with the biggest grin on her face. I can't help myself, but look like a lost deer in headlights. Why'd she kiss me? I thought she only saw me as a friend... This is one time I'm glad I'm wrong.
"Was it really that bad?" She asks, her voice trailing off, as she looks down.
"What?! No, sorry. It just caught me off guard, that's all. Besides, if anyone were to screw things up, it would be me." I reply, trying to reassure her.
"Cause of that classic Parker luck, right? Well don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here with you till the end of the line. But please don't leave again, okay?" She asks.
"Glad to hear it! And I can't guarantee that'll never happen again, just due to the world we live in, but I'll do my best, okay?"
"Hmm okay.. Oh, and Peter?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you go out on a date with me?" That's a complete 180 from just a few hours before at school. That's quite the turnaround. Here I am though, giddy as a schoolgirl on the inside. She feels the same way.
"Uhh, yeah! If we're being honest here, I've uhm kind of had feelings for you for a while now. But I uh didn't think you felt the same though, so there wasn't a point in uhm bringing it up." And there's the stuttering once again. Great job Peter! Talking to her has never been this hard before.
"Awwh, you're stuttering. It's okay Peter.. Wanna go out on patrol or something? This party is kind of a buzzkill." She says, rolling her eyes at the thought of being here for another minute.
"Didn't seem that way when you were playing Mortal Kombat, but okay.. Could we get a rain check on that team up? It's just that I should probably make sure my sister gets home safe. Has had one drink too many. "
"Right, of course. Family comes first. I get it. Well, I'm heading out, so I guess I'll see ya tomorrow!" She answers, still smiling. Though, I can tell she's slightly disappointed. And no, it wasn't a spider-sense feeling. With that, she leaves. I head back inside, looking for Harry, but he's nowhere in sight. So I decide to call it early. I find my sister with her friends coming out of the bathroom.
"Hey, sorry to ruin what's clearly been a good time for all of you, but I think we should probably head out. Looks like she won't make it much longer anyway." They nod, as I help Teresa up. I have her leaning against my shoulder as we walk out of the mansion. I call a taxi, and about 10 minutes later, it arrives. Opening the door, I place Teresa in the back seat, making sure the seatbelt is fastened in. Getting in the car, I hand over what little money I have on me, but I quickly realize it's not nearly enough for the drive to the Hardy Estate. Just great.. Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, the taxi driver pulls over, and I get out. After opening the door, I pull her up so that she's back in the same leaning position as before.
--------------------------------------
45 minutes later, at the Hardy Estate
Finally we're here, and somehow I was able to get Teresa to her room, without Mrs. Hardy, or Aunt May noticing. Felicia catches us, but only smirks, before going back to what she was doing beforehand. Not really feeling all that tired myself, I head into my room afterwards, and start-up my computer. It's ridiculously slow and outdated, but it's better than nothing I guess. Time to figure out who this Brock guy is that mister Jameson was talking to. Brock, New York City, freelance photographer for the Daily Bugle. That's all I really know. Which means it takes me at least 30 minutes of research before anything of value pops up. I didn't get a really good look at the guy, but I'm pretty sure this is him. Edward Brock. Formerly a photographer for the Daily Globe.. Something about his photos being faked. I'm not able to get much more, as it turns out, I'm more tired than I initially thought. I end up falling asleep right then and there. Guess it makes sense, it's been a pretty long day..
Working on 'On The Pig's Back' (after the fall). Feeling a little backed-up, with stuttering images.
Mind the Gap.
A funny thing happened while walking to the restaurant a middle aged man walked besides me and said "I hope you don't mind me saying" so I replied In my normal voice "go ahead" the poor man nearly fell over hearing my voice, he stumbled and stuttered and then said "well I have to say you have amazing legs even in flats, I didn't realise you were a gender bender" I laughed said thanks and he walked of smiling. My other half who was walking five paces to my right was having a right old laugh. We he made me feel good.
WARNING: THIS SERIES FEATURES DARK THEMES SUCH AS ALCOHOL, RAPE, DRUGS AND VIOLENCE. WHILE THESE TOPICS MAY OR MAY NOT BE IN THIS PARTICULAR ISSUE, THE SERIES IS MORE ENJOYABLE IF READ BEGINNING TO FINISH, SO IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE READING ABOUT THESE TOPICS, THIS IS NOT THE SERIES FOR YOU
Speeding past a receptionist, Dorothy Walker waltzed into her daughter’s hospital room. She sprinted straight to the bed Trish was lying atop, immediately giving her a hug.
Trish: H-… Hey, mom…
Trish said over her mother’s shoulder, stuttering as caught off guard by her mother’s sudden appearance.
Dorothy: I’m so glad that you’re okay, you nearly gave me a heart-attack!
Dorothy announced while stepping away from the warm embrace. Now standing farther back, she took notice of the plastic vase with a pink tulip and a rose sitting beside Trish. The shadow of the rose was cast across Trish’s shoulder.
Dorothy: Who got you these?
Trish: Jess. I don’t think she paid for it, she was probably re-gifting.
Dorothy: That’s in-character. Well, I also got you some things…
Dorothy reached into her purse, and out of it pulled out a plastic bag, placing it beside Trish. Trish rummaged through it, finding several comic books reading “Patsy Walker” or “Patsy and Hedy” on each of the covers.
Dorothy: I brought you more unfinished Patsy issues so you can proofread them for accuracy.
Trish: Gee, thanks…
She rolled her eyes while giving her sarcastic reply. Trish didn’t care much for these comics, Dorothy started the line to get Trish more publicity, which is something Dorothy is always doing. Always trying to make her daughter a household name, getting Trish things like her podcast, the TV series Trish was the star of as a child, or the previously mentioned comics.
Trish: Did you bring any of my scripts?
Dorothy: Oh, please, you’re not fit to host a podcast, look at yourself. Hedy’s filling in for you until you’re out of the hospital.
Trish: Mom, I got stabbed in the stomach, that doesn’t make me unfit to talk into a mic.
Dorothy: You have bandages around your head, how do I know you didn’t get a concussion?
Trish: I hit my head on a brick wall when I fell, but it barely hurt. I’m fine, trust me.
Dorothy: How many fingers am I holding up?
She faced her palm towards Trish, all 5 fingers pointing upward.
Trish: 5.
Dorothy: The correct answer was 4, thumbs aren’t fingers.
Trish: Whatever..! Forgetting thumbs aren’t fingers doesn’t mean I’m unfit to host Trish Talk, I’m still going to.
Dorothy: No, you’re not.
Trish: Mom, please, I have to-
Dorothy: Nah-ah-ah! Mother knows best.
Trish: Ugh, fine!
Dorothy: I’ll be back on Friday, then I’ll reevaluate whether or not you’re able to come back to hosting.
Dorothy slowly walked backwards toward the door.
Trish: Okay, bye.
Dorothy: Bye, love you.
Dorothy stood in the doorway for a second…
Dorothy: I’m waiting.
Trish: …Love you too.
Dorothy: There it is..!
Dorothy left the room, smiling, before shutting the door behind herself. Before the door was shut, Trish saw what she swore to be a large yellow wheel of some kind being driven by a man wearing green across the road.
Trish: ...The f#ck..?
~Madam Web
sound of the day from soundgarden:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiSkyEyBczU
BLACK HOLE SUN
In my eyes
Indisposed
In disguise
As no one knows
Hides the face
Lies the snake
The sun
In my disgrace
Boiling heat
Summer stench
'Neath the black
The sky looks dead
Call my name
Through the cream
And I'll hear you
Scream again
Black hole sun
Won't you come
And wash away the rain
Black hole sun
Won't you come
Won't you come
Stuttering
Cold and damp
Steal the warm wind
Tired friend
Times are gone
For honest men
And sometimes
Far too long
For snakes
In my shoes
A walking sleep
And my youth
I pray to keep
Heaven send
Hell away
No one sings
Like you
Anymore
Hang my head
Drown my fear
Till you all just
Disappear
Clockwise from upper-left:
* M5A1 Stuart Light Tank
* M7 Priest Howitzer Motor Carriage
* M2A1 Light Tank (by Brickmania)
* M4 Sherman Tank (by Brickmania)
* M16 Multiple Gun Motor Carriage / M3 Halftrack
* M4A2E2 Sherman "Jumbo" Medium Tank
* M8 Greyhound Armored Car
Read the write-up on The Brothers Brick.
Carlos Alcaraz overcame an early stutter at the Australian Open to defeat German Yannick Hanfmann 7-6 (7-4) 6-3 6-2 and move into the third round as he continues his bid for a career Grand Slam at Melbourne Park.
This craft is not the venerable T-65B from the the original trilogy, nor is it the T-70 from the new trilogy. This X-Wing is the XJ-3 model featured in the old Star Wars Expanded Universe material of the 80s and 90s. The XJ-3 was built by Incom to supplement the newer, more advanced, but considerably more expensive and complex E-Wing fighters. The advancements made over the T-65 model are newer engines, bolstered shields, and a better armament. The XJ-3's laser cannons could be fired in "Stutter-fire" mode, which allowed it to shoot through the shields of Yuuzhan Vong ships (which also means that it shoots blue pew pews instead of red). Instead of 2 torpedo launchers, the XJ-3 had three.
With the DCs having largely been sidelined by the union for cab rust issues and the DFs having to fill in on lesser jobs, it seems to have been "all GEs" here for the past month or so.
So a relief to hear that 925 was a triple, with no DXs and led by a DC had me hitting the road in the rain, as I figured the DC wouldn't lead south of Timaru (being taken off for stuttering 920, the old 922).
The all EMD consist sounded good (and a pleasant change) coming into Timaru in light drizzle at the end of the day
4421-7036-4012, Smithfield, Timaru, 22 June 2017, train 925
Working on 'a' coronation altarpiece (with bicycles and spermatozoon light fitting). Photograph taken on September 10th, 2007, 'multiply' uploading (like a stutter). Stir.
multiply
1 of 3
verb
mul·ti·ply ˈməl-tə-ˌplī
multiplied; multiplying
Synonyms of multiply
transitive verb
1
: to increase in number especially greatly or in multiples : AUGMENT
2
a
: to find the product of by multiplication
multiply 7 and 8
b
: to use as a multiplicand in multiplication with another number
multiply 7 by 8
intransitive verb
1
a
: to become greater in number : SPREAD
b
: BREED, PROPAGATE
2
: to perform multiplication
multiply
2 of 3
adverb
mul·ti·ply ˈməl-tə-plē
: in a multiple manner : in several ways
multiply talented children
multiply (stutter)
2 of 3
adverb
mul·ti·ply ˈməl-tə-plē
: in a multiple manner : in several ways
multiply talented children
multi-ply
3 of 3
adjective
mul·ti-ply ˌməl-tē-ˈplī -ˌtī-
: composed of several plies
"stupid Spider... I WANT TO KILL HIM! KILL HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Eddie cries, pounding on the glass... Suddenly, the glass shatters... "Wh-...What the-..." Eddie stutters, as the symbiote suddenly grips onto him...
~Scarecrow
JN Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge
Sanibel Island, Florida
USA
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius) makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
The Spotted Sandpiper is the most widespread breeding sandpiper in North America. Female Spotted Sandpipers sometimes practice an unusual breeding strategy called polyandry, where a female mates with up to four males, each of which then cares for a clutch of eggs.
One female in Minnesota laid five clutches for three males in a month and a half. This odd arrangement does not happen everywhere and often they are monogamous, with the female pitching in to help a little.
The female Spotted Sandpiper is the one who establishes and defends the territory. She arrives at the breeding grounds earlier than the male. In other species of migratory birds, where the male establishes the territory, he arrives earlier.
The male takes the primary role in parental care, incubating the eggs and taking care of the young. One female may lay eggs for up to four different males at a time.
Despite the gender roles, male Spotted Sandpipers have 10 times the testosterone that females have. However, that’s only in absolute terms. During the breeding season, females see a sevenfold increase in their testosterone levels, perhaps accounting for their aggression and the overall role reversal between male and female. The female may store sperm for up to one month. The eggs she lays for one male may be fathered by a different male in a previous mating.
Festination is the rapid stuttering walk that people with Parkinson's, like the prof, sometimes adopt, especially when stopping or turning corners. These new Birkenstocks make it harder to festinate and they discourage corns too. It's a pity they're more expensive since we left the EU.
uploaded with Uploader for Flickr for Android
Hunter Zolomon, the terrifying Pre-Flashpoint archenemy of Wally West, has officially returned to mainstream DC continuity. How do I feel about this? I’m not sure. Sure he’s unnervingly creepy, but his entire character is built around some nonsense that he needs to make Wally suffer in order to become a better hero. This is something that never really made sense to me and probably never will.
The eyes on this figure were done with black and red sharpies on a small slip of paper inserted beneath the cowl. I hadn’t originally planned to pick up the Speed Force Freeze Pursuit set until I had an nifty idea for a figure that I’ve yet to reveal (it’s not this guy). Nevertheless, I guess I’m happy to have visually distinct Thawne and Zolomon figs in my collection now!
"You were a nymph and I was an echo.
You, a letter and I, the lipstick.
I waited for you in the wrong skin.
The suitor: stuttering,
unsuitable."
- Emily O’Neill, "Wedding Soup"
-----
it's been a while Flickr. I missed you.
My 'adventurous' summer is as monotonous as tomato soup.
Bleh.
American postcard by Classico San Francisco, no. 233/007. Photo: Roman Freulich / Universal Pictures. Elsa Lanchester and Boris Karloff in The Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935).
British actor Boris Karloff (1887-1969) is one of the true icons of the Horror cinema. He portrayed Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (1931), Bride of Frankenstein (1935), and Son of Frankenstein (1939), which resulted in his immense popularity. In the following decades he worked in countless Horror films, but also in other genres, both in Europe and Hollywood.
Boris Karloff was born as William Henry Pratt in 1887 in London, England. Pratt himself stated that he was born in Dulwich, which is nearby in London. His parents were Edward John Pratt, Jr. and his third wife Eliza Sarah Millard. ‘Billy’never knew his father. Edward Pratt had worked for the Indian Salt Revenue Service, and had virtually abandoned his family in far off England. Edward died when his son was still an infant and so Billy was raised by his mother. He was the youngest of nine children, and following his mother's death was brought up by his elder brothers and sisters. As a child, Billy performed each Christmas in plays staged by St. Mary Magdalene's Church. His first role was that of The Demon King in the pantomime Cinderella. Billy was bow-legged, had a lisp, and stuttered. He conquered his stutter, but not his lisp, which was noticeable throughout his career in the film industry. After his education at private schools, he attended King's College London where he took studies aimed at a career with the British Government's Consular Service. However, in 1909, the 22-years-old left university without graduating and sailed from Liverpool to Canada, where he worked as a farm labourer and did various odd itinerant jobs. In Canada, he began appearing in theatrical performances, and chose the stage name Boris Karloff. Later, he claimed he chose ‘Boris’ because it sounded foreign and exotic, and that ‘Karloff’ was a family name. However, his daughter Sara Karloff publicly denied any knowledge of Slavic forebears, Karloff or otherwise. One reason for the name change was to prevent embarrassment to his family. He did not reunite with his family until he returned to Britain to make The Ghoul (T. Hayes Hunter, 1933), opposite Cedric Hardwicke. Karloff was extremely worried that his family would disapprove of his new, macabre claim to world fame. Instead, his brothers jostled for position around him and happily posed for publicity photographs. In 1911, Karloff joined the Jeanne Russell Company and later joined the Harry St. Clair Co. that performed in Minot, North Dakota, for a year in an opera house above a hardware store. Whilst he was trying to establish his acting career, Karloff had to perform years of difficult manual labour in Canada and the U.S. in order to make ends meet. He was left with back problems from which he suffered for the rest of his life. In 1917, he arrived in Hollywood, where he went on to make dozens of silent films. Some of his first roles were in film serials, such as The Masked Rider (Aubrey M. Kennedy, 1919), in Chapter 2 of which he can be glimpsed onscreen for the first time, and The Hope Diamond Mystery (Stuart Paton, 1920). In these early roles, he was often cast as an exotic Arabian or Indian villain. Other silent films were The Deadlier Sex (Robert Thornby, 1920) with Blanche Sweet, Omar the Tentmaker (James Young, 1922), Dynamite Dan (Bruce Mitchell, 1924) and Tarzan and the Golden Lion (J.P. McGowan, 1927) in which James Pierce played Tarzan. In 1926 Karloff found a provocative role in The Bells (James Young, 1926), in which he played a sinister hypnotist opposite Lionel Barrymore. He worked with Barrymore again in his first sound film, the thriller The Unholy Night (Lionel Barrymore, 1929).
A key film which brought Boris Karloff recognition was The Criminal Code (Howard Hawks, 1931), a prison drama in which he reprised a dramatic part he had played on stage. With his characteristic short-cropped hair and menacing features, Karloff was a frightening sight to behold. Opposite Edward G. Robinson, Karloff played a key supporting part as an unethical newspaper reporter in Five Star Final (Mervyn LeRoy, 1931), a film about tabloid journalism which was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture. Karloff's role as Frankenstein's monster in Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931), based on the classic Mary Shelley book, propelled him to stardom. Wikipedia: “The bulky costume with four-inch platform boots made it an arduous role but the costume and extensive makeup produced the classic image. The costume was a job in itself for Karloff with the shoes weighing 11 pounds (5 kg) each.” The aura of mystery surrounding Karloff was highlighted in the opening credits, as he was listed as simply "?." The film was a commercial and critical success for Universal, and Karloff was instantly established as a hot property in Hollywood. Universal Studios was quick to acquire ownership of the copyright to the makeup format for the Frankenstein monster that Jack P. Pierce had designed. A year later, Karloff played another iconic character, Imhotep in The Mummy (Karl Freund, 1932). The Old Dark House (James Whale, 1932) with Charles Laughton, and the starring role in MGM’s The Mask of Fu Manchu (Charles Brabin, 1932) quickly followed. Steve Vertlieb at The Thunder Child: “Wonderfully kinky, the film co-starred young Myrna Loy as the intoxicating, yet sadistic Fah Lo See, Fu Manchu's sexually perverse daughter. Filmed prior to Hollywood's infamous production code, the film joyously escaped the later scrutiny of The Hayes Office, and remains a fascinating example of pre-code extravagance.” These films all confirmed Karloff's new-found stardom. Horror had become his primary genre, and he gave a string of lauded performances in 1930s Universal Horror films. Karloff reprised the role of Frankenstein's monster in two other films, the sensational Bride of Frankenstein (James Whale, 1935) and the less thrilling Son of Frankenstein (Rowland V. Lee, 1939), the latter also featuring Bela Lugosi. Steve Vertlieb about Bride oif Frankenstein: “Whale delivered perhaps the greatest horror film of the decade and easily the most critically acclaimed rendition of Mary Shelley's novel ever released. The Bride of Frankenstein remains a work of sheer genius, a brilliantly conceived and realized take on loneliness, vanity, and madness. The cast of British character actors is simply superb.” While the long, creative partnership between Karloff and Lugosi never led to a close friendship, it produced some of the actors' most revered and enduring productions, beginning with The Black Cat (Edgar G. Ullmer, 1934). Follow-ups included The Raven (Lew Landers, 1935), the rarely seen, imaginative science fiction melodrama The Invisible Ray (Lambert Hillyer, 1936), and The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945). Karloff played a wide variety of roles in other genres besides Horror. He was memorably gunned down in a bowling alley in Howard Hawks' classic Scarface (1932) starring Paul Muni.. He played a religious First World War soldier in John Ford’s epic The Lost Patrol (1934) opposite Victor McLaglen. Between 1938 and 1940, Karloff starred in five films for Monogram Pictures, including Mr. Wong, Detective (William Nigh, 1938). During this period, he also starred with Basil Rathbone in Tower of London (Rowland V. Lee, 1939) as the murderous henchman of King Richard III, and with Margaret Lindsay in British Intelligence (Terry O. Morse, 1940). In 1944, he underwent a spinal operation to relieve his chronic arthritic condition.
Boris Karloff revisited the Frankenstein mythos in several later films, taking the starring role of the villainous Dr. Niemann in House of Frankenstein (Erle C. Kenton, 1944), in which the monster was played by Glenn Strange. He reprised the role of the ‘mad scientist’ in Frankenstein 1970 (Howard W. Koch, 1958) as Baron Victor von Frankenstein II, the grandson of the original creator. The finale reveals that the crippled Baron has given his own face (i.e., Karloff's) to the monster. From 1945 to 1946, Boris Karloff appeared in three films for RKO produced by Val Lewton: Isle of the Dead (Mark Robson, 1945), The Body Snatcher (Robert Wise, 1945), and Bedlam (Mark Robson, 1946). Karloff had left Universal because he thought the Frankenstein franchise had run its course. Karloff was a frequent guest on radio programs. In 1949, he was the host and star of the radio and television anthology series Starring Boris Karloff. In 1950, he had his own weekly children's radio show in New York. He played children's music and told stories and riddles, and attracted many adult listeners as well. An enthusiastic performer, he returned to the Broadway stage in the original production of Arsenic and Old Lace (1941), in which he played a homicidal gangster enraged to be frequently mistaken for Karloff. In 1962, he reprised the role on television with Tony Randall and Tom Bosley. He also appeared as Captain Hook in the play Peter Pan with Jean Arthur. In 1955, he returned to the Broadway stage to portray the sympathetic Bishop Cauchon in Jean Anouilh's The Lark. Karloff regarded the production as the highlight of his long career. Julie Harris was his co-star as Joan of Arc in the celebrated play, recreated for live television in 1957 with Karloff, Harris and much of the original New York company intact. For his role, Karloff was nominated for a Tony Award. Karloff donned the monster make-up for the last time for a Halloween episode of the TV series Route 66 (1962), which also featured Peter Lorre and Lon Chaney, Jr. In the 1960s, Karloff appeared in several films for American International Pictures, including The Comedy of Terrors (Jacques Tourneur, 1963) with Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, The Raven (Roger Corman, 1963), The Terror (Roger Corman, 1963) with Jack Nicholson, and Die, Monster, Die! (Daniel Haller, 1965). Another project for American International release was the frightening Italian horror classic, I tre volti della paura/Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963), in which Karloff played a vampire with bone chilling intensity. He also starred in British cult director Michael Reeves's second feature film, The Sorcerers (1966). He gained new popularity among a young generation when he narrated the animated TV film Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (Chuck Jones, Ben Washam. 1966), and provided the voice of the Grinch. Karloff later received a Grammy Award for Best Recording For Children after the story was released as a record. Then he starred as a retired horror film actor in Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968), Steve Vertlieb: “Targets was a profoundly disturbing study of a young sniper holding a small Midwestern community, deep in the bible belt, terrifyingly at bay. The celebrated subplot concerned the philosophical dilemma of creating fanciful horrors on the screen, while graphic, troubling reality was eclipsing the superficiality so tiredly repeated by Hollywood. Karloff co-starred, essentially as himself, an aged horror star named Byron Orlok, who wants simply to retire from the imagined horrors of a faded genre, only to come shockingly to grips with the depravity and genuine terror found on America's streets. Bogdanovich's first film as a director won praise from critics and audiences throughout the world community, and won its elder star the best, most respectful notices of his later career.”. In 1968, he played occult expert Professor Marsh in the British production Curse of the Crimson Altar (Vernon Sewell, 1968), which was the last Karloff film to be released during his lifetime. He ended his career by appearing in four low-budget Mexican horror films, which were released posthumously. While shooting his final films, Karloff suffered from emphysema. Only half of one lung was still functioning and he required oxygen between takes. he contracted bronchitis in 1968 and was hospitalized. Early 1969, he died of pneumonia at the King Edward VII Hospital, Midhurst, in Sussex, at the age of 81. Boris Karloff married five times and had one child, daughter Sara Karloff, by his fourth wife.
Sources: Steve Vertlieb (The Thunder Child), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
Yellow-belled Sapsuckers perch upright on trees like this Jamaican dogwood (Piscidia piscipula), leaning on their tails like other woodpeckers. They feed at sapwells—neat rows of shallow holes they drill in tree bark. They lap up the sugary sap along with any insects that may get caught there. Sapsuckers drum on trees and metal objects in a distinctive stuttering pattern.
Little Torch Key, Florida