Nancy looked down at the paper in front of her. Her hands trembled. The graduation tassel hanging on the side of her face was way more distracting than it should have been. Throughout her high school career, she had strived to be class valedictorian. Under different circumstances, she would have been ecstatic. She had written this speech as a freshman in preparation for the big day. Now no amount of revising could save these empty words.
“As you all know…it’s been a…a challenge…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at the crowd of Hawkins, all in graduation robes and with somber faces. So many empty chairs. So many tears. It was an emotional day, but in a different way than most graduations.
Parents still crowded in the back to support students who were there despite their own child’s chair being empty. The parents whose children were in attendance dripped of survivor’s guilt. Many students cast longing looks at empty seats, where friends should have been, which held decorated graduation caps and flowers, a tribute to those who should have been there.
Nancy’s heartbeat pounded in her ears and she felt her own cheeks get hot with oncoming tears. She sniffed back a sob and it rand through the microphone in the deafening silence. Looking around she saw her classmates cast their eyes downward. The cheer squad ducked heads showing her photos of Chrissy on their caps. The basketball team had done the same for Jason. Many other black graduation caps held similar memorials. Towards the back where families sat, she saw Hopper and Joyce holding hands behind the row of children she had come to love. Her eyes found Steve, who tried to force an encouraging smile, but it didn’t have the same effect with the way he was squeezing Dustins shoulder. The curly-haired boy looked haunted at his place at the end of the aisle, his hellfire shirt peeking out from his button-up. Lucas was at the hospital with Max, but the other boys and Eleven had shown up to pay their respects.
That’s was this was. Not a celebration, but a funeral. She squeezed her eyes shut and then with a frustrated sigh, she tore the speech up in half.
“Fuck this,” she muttered into the microphone, the crowd stirred slightly. “Let’s not pretend this is a joyous day. It’s not. It sucks. So many of us aren’t here and those of us that are would give anything to have them back. This ceremony is pointless.
There was a slight murmuring through the crowd, a few scandalized looks but most nodded in agreement.
“So let’s change this up. None of the two roads diverged, oh the places you’ll go, we are the future BS.” Several shouts of agreement echoed through the crowd. “Today let’s recognize everyone who isn’t here. Let today be a day of honor and memory of the amazing people we wish were joining us today.” She sucked in a deep breath to fight back a sob, ” And let’s just all make a vow to each other to do something with the fact that we were left behind. The world is such a darker place without their light. Let’s all just promise to try and make it a little better.”
The auditorium erupted in cheers. “For Jason, ” a basketball player cried out. “For Chrissy!” several girls voices cut through. A slew of names rang across the room as tears fell and fists were raised. Across the graduate heads, she almost saw Dustin smile.
She stepped away from the podium as the principal stepped forward, giving her a nod. The crowd quieted as he cleared his throat into the microphone. “That was beautiful, Miss Wheeler.” he whispered. She gave him a small smile and left the stage to sit with her classmates.
“We have decided, ” the principal said seriously, “in honor of those no longer with us, to still call every name on this list. We ask that they be celebrated in the same way that those who will be receiving diplomas are, for if not for the tragedy of late, they would be handed one as well. They aren’t here to shake my hand, but they well earned it just the same. “
Some claps rose and fell as the names began to be called. As promised, not a name was skipped, and those names were met with claps and cheers, the same as the rest.
“Paul Martin.”
Nancy looked back at Dustin as the M’s started. He had already begun to cry and Steve had pulled his head to his shoulder in comfort, rubbing the young boy’s back.
“Daisy Mullins.”
Looking even further behind them, she caught sight of Eddie’s uncle. Wayne Munson was sitting off to the side, all the way in the back, his face looked to be set in stone. Nancy’s heart broke. She had only known Eddie a short time, but it killed her to see Dustin’s usual perky smiling face so overcome with grief. She turned back around, wiping her own eyes.
“Eddie Munson”
The crowd sporadically clapped, definitely less enthusiastically than they had for others given most of the town’s unjustified satanic panic hatred of the boy. Nancy let out a loud yelp of celebration and clapped even harder, hearing Dustin and the Hellfire group do the same.
“86 baby!”
Nancy froze as the crowd fell silent. Her head whipped back where the voice had come from and saw a sea of heads swivel along with her.
There, like an unearthly ghost, stood Eddie Munson, fist in the air, a grin on his face. He was exactly as they had left him. Dirt smudged his appearance, blood stained his Hellfire shirt and dried to his face darkly against his twinking eyes. The only difference was a clean black graduation robe thrown on like a cloak.
With a swagger all his own, he marched proudly between the chairs, head held high and mouth open in a wide smile that crinkled his dimples. People watched in awe as he paused at Dustins seat, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a hard shake. “I told ya, man, this was my year!” he exclaimed, his voice echoing over the still room. Dustin gave him a huge hug around the middle but didn’t take his eyes away from the older boys face. Eddie laughed, and ruffled his hair, reaching high-fives from the other Hellfire members, who weakly returned them with a shocked confused look. He even delivered a sharp punch and pointed “Harrison” at Steve.
Eddie smirked in silence as he continued up the aisle. He passed Nancy and she caught a glint of something in his smile as he shot her a finger gun and clicked his tongue as he sashayed by. One of the scowling basketball players murmured something as he passed them but promptly fell silent as Eddie paused in his steps.
Nancy watched in fascination as Eddie turned and hissed at the boy, putting two fingers at his temples like devil horns. This time she didn’t miss the fangs. Or the red that flashed in his eyes. Neither did the jock who fell out of his seat in fright. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but none were as loud as Eddie’s cackle as he turned back to the stage. Back toward his diploma.
Eddie took the stage and Principal Higgins stood like a statue as he watched the rebel student meander toward him. Eddie held out his hand for a shake. Reluctantly, Principal Higgins quickly shook his hand and handed Eddie his diploma.
At this point, there was a rustle in the back as some of the parents on the police force seemed to finally come to their senses and began to get to their feet. Eddie snickered as he noticed them, he leaned toward the podium and flashed a rock n’ roll sign.
“Yeah, I know you guys want to arrest me. But let a man have a victory, yeah?” he uttered into the microphone. “I worked my ass off to finally get out of this institutionalized hellhole and you haven’t even had Wheeler up here to get her diploma. Let’s not upstage the grads,” he winked. “Okay, big boys?”
The cops paused and at each other, unsure. Hopper looked at Joyce questioningly.
“I’ll be in my seat, I’ll come willingly once it’s all said and done. But for fuck sakes, have a little decorum,” Eddie drawled. He blew a kiss and as promised walked over to his seat, scooping up the tribute the Hellfire crew and his Corroded Coffin bandmates had made. He gave a mock salute to the officers who shifted their feet before sitting back down, keeping a cautious eye.
After a moment of uncertainty, the names started to be called again. But Nancy couldn’t make herself turn around. Eddie slumped further into the seat, his surrounding classmates leaning away from him. She watched as he toyed a finger over his new pointed canines. Catching her eye, he wiggled his fingers at her in a wave, keeping his thumb pressed against his right fang.
2022 Pasco Pride Haters
I was hesitant on posting this, but decided to post these anyway. Pride is not all Rainbows and Smiles, even though it should have been, and most of the attendance, it was. Unfortunately, the ‘Haters’ showed up. They started on the other side of the fence, then the inside, then a few walked among the crowd while the drag queens were on stage. Then they came into the parking lot and soon were directly behind our booth. I went to watch the drag queens for a moment with my daughter, I had a woman tell me that she hoped my daughter smartened up when she got older and left me because I was a bad parent (due to us being at a pride festival), my daughter started crying and telling me I was ‘not a bad mommy!’. Back at our booth, with them directly behind us screaming their hateful rhetoric into a megaphone, I had to explain to her what the haters were doing and why they were there. She didn’t understand why they were being so hateful. She believes in Love. She believes that everyone should love who they want. Did we teach her that? Yes, but kids can also make their own decisions. And my daughter is very stubborn at times. When people get her daddy’s pronouns (her/she) incorrect, she’s one of the first to correct them. She argues with one of her little friends that her daddy is a GIRL! My point is my daughter made up her own mind and she doesn’t see what’s wrong with boys loving boys and girls loving girls. She didn’t understand why there were people telling us that we were going to burn in hell because we were attending Pride.
These pictures are of some of the haters. They called me ‘The Whore of Babylon’, told my transpartner that I would be leaving them (we have been together almost 8 years, known each other almost 9). I was livid in many ways, was actually grateful for the fact our booth got very busy with people interested in our organization. As you can see, many people danced in front of the protesters, tried to peacefully block them. I have already suggested it, but next year, I want music to drown them out. Ya know, for such haters, they never miss a Pride Event. I don’t know about you, but if I don’t like something, I don’t make it my mission to attend it…
Just a blurb of what’s going on in this white girls head…
Only Whites can be Racist because Racism is based on Discrimination on skin color and feeling superior due to skin color. Colored people can be prejudicial towards whites – but not racist.
Prejudice refers to a positive and/or negative evaluation of another person based on their perceived group membership. Racism on the other hand refers to social actions, practices or beliefs or political systems that consider different races to be ranked as inherently superior or inferior to each other.
Furthermore, racism is socio-economic, with systemic structures which promote one race’s powers over another. Socio-economic being the operative word, I am certain you will agree that black people do not have the resources to impose such oppressive structures which enforce their superiority. White people on the other hand have, and had imposed them on blacks for over four centuries of slavery and colonialism. Black people can be prejudiced, but not racist.
Racism is based on a few things—historical, systemic oppression and power. And as far as history goes, white people have never been persecuted for the color of their skin—so there’s no point comparing their experiences to those of black, brown, and Indigenous folks.
It’s slavery, colonialism, theft all kinds of violations on systemic proportions… versus feelings being hurt.
Pulse
Four years ago today on June 12th, 2016, we watched in horror, as the news broke of the horrific tragedy in Orlando, at a gay nightclub, that had been hosting Latin night that evening.
The body count kept rising. We heard about the cellphones ringing in the pockets of those who would never answer them again.
The Facebook status that Pulse Orlando posted during the massacre still gives me the chills.
“Everyone get out of pulse and keep running”
49 people were killed (technically 50, if we include the shooter, which #sorrynotsorry, I don’t) and 53 were wounded at the Pulse Nightclub.
Since then countless mass shootings have taken place. I wish I could say we’ve done the victims justice by changing our laws and having more gun regulations, but that simply isn’t true. As a society we’ve become so numb to tragedy. It’s not always a conscious decision to become numb, it’s only human to try and protect yourself from tragedy and chaos. You can however, make the decision to pay attention and care.
49 people will never tell their friends and family how much they love them again, 49 people will never get to celebrate another holiday, 49 people will never be able to go to a gay club and dance again. It’s hard to imagine just how big the impact of something like the Pulse shooting has, but without a doubt it has changed thousands of peoples lives.
These victims deserve so much more. When we take a stand and make our voice heard, we are standing up for these 49 and the countless others who have tragically joined them in the past three years.
They deserve to be remembered:
- Stanley Almodovar III, age 23
- Amanda Alvear, 25
- Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26
- Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33
- Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21
- Martin Benitez Torres, 33
- Antonio D. Brown, 30
- Darryl R. Burt II, 29
- Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24
- Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28
- Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, 31
- Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25
- Luis D. Conde, 39
- Cory J. Connell, 21
- Tevin E. Crosby, 25
- Franky J. Dejesus Velazquez, 50
- Deonka D. Drayton, 32
- Mercedez M. Flores, 26
- Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22
- Juan R. Guerrero, 22
- Paul T. Henry, 41
- Frank Hernandez, 27
- Miguel A. Honorato, 30
- Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40
- Jason B. Josaphat, 19
- Eddie J. Justice, 30
- Anthony L. Laureano Disla, 25
- Christopher A. Leinonen, 32
- Brenda L. Marquez McCool, 49
- Jean C. Mendez Perez, 35
- Akyra Monet Murray, 18
- Kimberly Morris, 37
- Jean C. Nieves Rodriguez, 27
- Luis O. Ocasio-Capo, 20
- Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25
- Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36
- Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32
- Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25
- Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37
- Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24
- Christopher J. Sanfeliz, 24
- Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35
- Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25
- Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34
- Shane E. Tomlinson, 33
- Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25
- Luis S. Vielma, 22
- Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37
- Jerald A. Wright, 31
As we remember those taken from us, take the time to reflect on how the inaction from our elected officials has led to the tragedies we have seen all too often. Reflect on the truth that black lives matter, that shootings in schools, and other places have got to stop, and how a lack of love for each other can lead to a tragedy that stains our communities deeply with that expressed hate.
It’s been four years since the Pulse shooting. Since then, gun violence and violence against LGBTQ+ folks has only escalated. In this time of remembrance and grieving we must reach out to each other and show love and compassion.
Do not forget this
Don’t let this take away pride from you
Don’t let this scare you into hiding
Be careful and be safe
But don’t stop existing
Dont stop vocalizing
Defy this shit and the people who spread hatred by being who you are
They cant silence us!
Update: My brother passed away…
So an update about what’s going on.
My brother passed away a couple days ago after long suffering with mental illness. I’m going up to Bolivar, New York for a viewing/service.
Besides when I was a baby and before my mom passed away, I’ve only met my brother three times.
- When I was 6. He was suppose to be heading to boot camp for the Marines but horsed around with some friends and busted his jaw. He came to visit and stayed for a couple months. He left without a goodbye, just a NIN shirt and a necklace and a short note to my dad.
- When I was 17. I was still living in my childhood home, one that he also lived. He came up my driveway and simply said my name and I knew it was him. We fell into each others arms and hugged what seemed like minutes. We hung out for a day and he dropped me off home. (He was down for a Disney trip, I think)
- I went up to NY when I was 22/23, in 2012. Visited a lot of the family. Mom’s side is huge. I stayed with him, his wife and 4 kids for a month. Again, on July 15th, we left terms without goodbyes. He deliberately went to work early so he wouldn’t have to see me leave. He knew I was leaving that day. On the phone later that day, he even admitted not being good with in-person goodbyes.
My dad passed away July 23rd, 2012 and that may have been the last time I spoke to my brother. 😭 Due to an issue with another family member, I assumed he sided with them so I didnt think he would wanna talk to me. Then with everything: dad’s death, struggling with college, getting suddenly dumped after 5 years, being homeless, finding a person that turned out not to be good for me, then finding a person who was perfect for us, Wyoming, getting pregnant, having Moonchild, moving in with a step monster who was vile and malicious, Moonchild being taken, fighting to get Moonchild back, getting Moonchild back, but then ME coming out (and over a year, still being here instead of Mel – see, mental health runs through our family in one degree or another) and finding out once grandma passed away, the family got even more divided, I’ve just forgotten or been scared to reach out (I get it, that’s on me), plus I understood that grandma’s death definitely took a toll on the family. She is what kept us all together. No one really has reached out themselves. I did try to keep in touch about a year after I left NY with FB messages or Skype, but no one really got back to me. I have very few members of the family that I still talk too. One came out when we lost Moonchild, and I’m hoping to meet them this weekend. It’s all fricking complicated.
Due to extremely differing views, I’m definitely a dark black sheep. I’m terrified to go. I’m going to honor my brother, and hopefully see a family member or two that still like me. If others are willing, I do wanna get names, addresses and birthdays, so I could at the very least send Birthday cards and Christmas cards to those that wanna stay in touch…family means a lot to us…
By differing views, I refer to my partner who is 16 years older than me and is a transwoman (particularly this part), my religious and political views are very different and doesn’t help some were not very fond of my father either. I do not plan to start any problems or stir any pots, but If anything is said about my partner in particular, I’m not gonna keep quiet. I can probably keep quiet about Religion or Politics, but “attack” my partner and we will have Issues. 🤷🏻♀️ Just saying…
So I had many message me asking me and I did PM back who I could. I have gotten even more messages and I figured I might as well make a post. It’s just so much easier.
Many of you asked what you could do and even offered funds. I am not in need of money, I do have savings. The COVID was a weird blessing in disguise. I lost my substitute job, but was able to start the delivery jobs sooner than planned – planned for the summer, but discovered they paid pretty well so I was able to put some savings aside. If you insist on sending money, our cash app is $CalicoWolf and PayPal is paypal.me/MAIF89
If you send, Thank You. It is not expected, but very appreciated because not gonna lie, I won’t deny money.
TL:DR: My brother passed away and I’m going out of state for a few days.😭 I’m scared af.😱 Feel free to send money. 🤣J/K, mostly.
Happy Pride Month
The month of June is celebrated as ‘Pride Month’ for the support of LGBTQ+ community. In this post, I want to remind everyone belonging to the community that they’re valid not only in June, but throughout the year.
This is a reminder for every gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, gender-non conforming, asexual, agender person that YOU ARE VALID! Even if you’re in closet or are still figuring out your sexuality & gender identity, you’re still Valid.
You don’t need to come out of the closet, it’s your choice. And, you’re in no kind of hurry to figure out who you are. Take as much time as you need. During the process, remember, whatever you decide – coming out or not, or about your gender/ sexuality – you don’t need other’s validation to approve who you are. No one knows you better that you do yourself, but to figure it out better, especially when you think you’re unsure, don’t hesitate in visiting therapists.
To those who’re planning to come out this Pride Month – take your time. June is just another month, you don’t have to come out this month itself. You can come out in open as and when you feel you’re ready, regardless of what month it is. Again – people might not understand it the first time you come out, they may not automatically start using the pronouns of your choice. But this doesn’t make you any less valid. Stay Strong! By coming out, you’ll have a hard battle already fought and won. Acceptance can be hard, but with time and a positive environment, you’ll learn to love yourself and others around you.
I mean, we have come so far in the last fifty years with LGBTQ+ rights. Especially when people have been discriminated, even killed, for being who they are, it’s great to see just how much progress we’ve made in our struggle for loving whom we love. In fact, Taiwan became the first country in Asia to legalize same-sex marriage which is huge considering many Asian countries are rather conservative in their LGBTQ+ beliefs. Unfortunately, we do still have so much more to go and I firmly believe, as long as we continue to stand up and make our voices heard, we will continue to move forward.
I always look forward to Pride Month. For me, I do identify myself as part of the LGBTQ+ community and, commercialized as the parade and overall concept has become over the years, it still spreads a good message about love, acceptance, and inclusiveness. It’s important to know that, at the end of the day, we’re all just people who want to be loved, and no law or hate should take that basic human right away from us.
Personally I have never been to a Pride parade ( I had hoped this year, but due to Covid-19, probably not!), but I love seeing photos of people decked out in rainbow attire and participating in the music and festivities. It’s amazing to see other people involved, some whom still might hide their sexuality in school or at work, but at least for the day can express themselves freely. Others, on the other hand, don’t shy away from showing who they really are, during and outside of Pride.
For myself, it’s not like I “hide” my sexuality at work or in public. I accept my sexuality, but I choose not to flaunt it. And that’s okay. For some people, they’re more outgoing and see their sexuality as the most-important thing to them– something that they don’t want to hide from the world. That’s okay, too. For them, it’s a public affair, and for me and others, it’s more of a personal one, and both cases need to be respected.
As I end this post, I do have Shameless advertising to do. If you are reading this and like it… Feel free to Follow, Like, Message and Share. Also “Love is Love (LGBT+ and Allies)” https://www.facebook.com/groups/ForTheLoveOfHumans/ is a positive/funny/uplifting post only support group (ran by yours truly).
And lastly, “Love from FL” is a world wide delievered program for those who may need or want a little more love and support and just need to know they are not alone. https://www.facebook.com/lovefromFL/ once again ran by yours truly and my partner. Hey, I did warn some shameless advertising! 😹
Hope everyone has an amazing Pride Month, Love is Love.
~The Rainbow Wolf 🌈🐺
Black Lives Matter Reply.
Response from a FB friend: “…and when anybody says black lives matter, they clearly don’t think all lives matter because if they did they would replace the “black” with “all”
You clearly don’t understand what “Black Lives Matter” means. Black Lives Matter doesn’t insinuate that other lives don’t. Of course all lives matter. That doesn’t even need to be said. But the fact that white people get so upset about the term black lives matter is proof that nothing can center the wellbeing and livelihoods of black bodies without white people assuming it is to their demise. Black lives did not matter when they were inhumanely transported like livestock from Africa. Black lives did not matter when they were lynched by the hundreds at the hands of the KKK. Black lives did not matter when they were attacked by dogs as they protested for equal rights.
Black Lives Matter is not a term of confrontation or an exclusionary demand. Black Lives Matter “is simply aspirational;” it’s a rallying cry for a shift in statistical numbers that show that people who are black are twice as likely to be killed by a police officer while unarmed, compared to a white individual. As the Black Lives Matter movement emerged, they were all of a sudden jolted into an awareness of the intersection of race and surviving police encounters. Instead of exploring the reasons why a movement like this would even be necessary, many have a knee jerk reaction. “What about me?” “All lives matter,” they cry. “Why be divisive and unfair, what about our safety?” The point these people miss is that the majority of experiences here in America already tend to center and highlight whiteness and cater to its safety. The country was built to function that way. Its roots of white supremacy and the marginalized concern for people of color has remained.
But let’s get back to the issue of countering Black Lives Matter with the phrase “All Lives Matter.” I’ve come to describe this as a collective gaslighting from the white community. Gaslighting is a tactic in which a person or entity, in order to gain more power (or in this case, keep their own peace), makes a victim question their reality. Why do those who counter black lives matter act as though black people aren’t aware of the glaring disproportionate statistics of police brutality, of health care racism, and of mass incarceration? This is their reality. You deciding to ignore it for your own comfort doesn’t make it any less true.
If a patient being rushed to the ER after an accident were to point to their mangled leg and say, “This is what matters right now,” and the doctor saw the scrapes and bruises of other areas and countered, “…but all of you matters,” wouldn’t there be a question as to why he doesn’t show urgency in aiding that what is most at risk? At a community fundraiser for a decaying local library, you would never see a mob of people from the next city over show up angry and offended yelling, “All libraries matter!”—especially when theirs is already well-funded.
This is because there is a fundamental understanding that when the parts of society with the most pain and lack of protection are cared for, the whole system benefits. For some reason, the community of white America would rather adjust the blinders they’ve set against racism, instead of confront it, so that the country can move forward toward a true nation of justice for all.
Here’s a personal message to those committed to saying “All Lives Matter” in the midst of the justice-driven work of the Black Lives Matter movement: PROVE IT!
Point out the ways our society—particularly the systems set in place to protect citizens like police officers and doctors and elected officials—are showing up to serve and protect black lives. Illuminate the instances in which the livelihood of the black community was prioritized, considering the circumstances that put them into less-privileged spaces to begin with. Direct me to the evidence of justice for the bodies discarded at the hands of those in power, be it by unjustified murder, jail cell, poisoned water, or medical discrimination.
These are the things that must be rectified. Until then, I’ll be here, my supportive white fist raised with Black Lives Matter on my lips.
Why I’m not doing the Instacart Strike tomorrow.
I live in Brooksville/Spring Hill area. I made $400 through the app in a week, not including cash tips. That is more than what I made as even a 40+ hours security officer and definitely more than I make as a full-time substitute teacher . I did a couple decent paying 3 batches on Monday and Friday, but otherwise mostly just did the 1 batches at a time, maybe 2 or 3 a day.
I’m honestly thrilled with what I made, so I’m a bit confused about the fuss. I mean I keep reading people’s posts and I do feel sorry for yall. But why not just pick the jobs you think pay best and leave the rest? Noone is forcing the jobs upon you. Yes, I agree when someone removes a tip, that does suck and while I’ve had tips go down a few cents, I’ve never had them removed completely, even by the women who verbally bitched me out. So I’m very sorry if that happens. I am very happy with the hand sanitizers that Instacart will be allowing us to have, even though I have a ton of my own (just bath and body works I’ve collected over the year).
I also do ubereats and postmates and made an additional $220, so I’ve made over $600 in a single week. I’m over the moon. No dress code, minimum human contact/interaction and alone time with my music in my car: hoping I can continue this even if/when subs are needed again. Granted, even with good gas mileage of my car, I used about $100 in gas, so I balance out that I made around $500…still in ONE Week! I’ve heard from other Instacart Shoppers that they make easily $800 or more just with Shopping. I guess I’m just one of the ones that cant find a real reason to complain.
My Thoughts on Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds”
Before I am called a Quentin Tarantino hater, let me just emphasize that I think Tarantino is a unique stylist with a keen instinct for catchy dialogue. He is also a master of turning a scene on its ear in order to maximize tension.
That said, INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS is self-indulgent nonsense. The film is essentially about nothing at all, but it is tangentially about a group of people trying to thwart the Nazi takeover of Europe during World War 2.
It stars Brad Pitt in a ridiculous, “look at me” performance as Lt. Aldo Raine, who is leading a small battalion of Jewish-American fighters into France to kill as many Nazi soldiers as they can. Their ruthlessness becomes legendary among the Nazis, catching the attention of bloodhound Jew killer Landa (Christoph Waltz). The Basterds eventually intersect the revenge plot created by a Jewish cinema owner named Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent), who intends to burn the elite Nazi leaders, including Adolf Hitler.
With “Basterds” (when it came out), Tarantino made his fourth or fifth film in a row about nothing more than revenge. And like the “Kill Bill” films, “Basterds” takes place in some sort of fantasy-land slightly divorced from reality. This might be fine, except that “Basterds” traffics in some truly stomach-turning gore that renders the fantasy elements quite out of place.
Tarantino basically rewrites history here, but, to supporters of this film, I ask: What is the point?? Is it simply to be clever or cute? Or simply because he can??
It’s a fair and unanswerable question given what’s on display here, which switches between comical and brutal without any regard to tone or reason. The performances are almost all atrocious. Pitt mugs endlessly, delivering each line with a Southern accent so horribly over-the-top that you cannot ever allow yourself to believe it is anyone other than Brad Pitt playing dress-up (even beyond an actor acting). And why on Earth would Tarantino employ Eli Roth as an actor? He smirks his way through this pitiful role like a low-rate George Clooney. Worst of all, is a cameo by Mike Myers as a British officer, which gives Myers an unwelcome opportunity to dust off his Austin Powers delivery, filled with suggestive pauses. Horrifying.
In the midst of the awful performances is a jewel: Christoph Waltz shines as the terrifying Colonel Landa. It is a star-making turn, and one that was definitely remembered properly at the Oscar’s (Winner of Best Supporting Actor) Absolutely Remarkable.
I could go on forever about the cheesy seventies subtitles and the horrible musical cues (Some decent choices, horrid timing and placement), but one early moment perfectly wraps up why I despise this movie so much. In the scene, Pitt is telling his troops that they are going to dismember the Nazis and make them afraid. He then says that the Basterds will “torture them,” while Tarantino cuts to a shot of Eli Roth … a reference wink to Roth’s reputation as a torture-porn director. Do we really need this kind of blatant, “look at me” bullshit? Can’t the guy just make a fucking movie that tells a decent and worthwhile story without loading all this nonessential crap into it? More than anything, Basterds upsets me because Tarantino attempts a few incredible moments within this film. One such moment is in the conclusion, when Shoshanna’s face is projected on the billows of smoke from the burning theater. Phenomenal!
Unfortunately, moments like that one are lost in the endless tiresomeness of the rest of the film. People might try to argue that the film is a fantasy, and therefore meant to be pure fun. Oookay … well, one could say the same thing about many other films, but at least most films don’t try to be something more, nor do they desperately try to pander to the art and festival crowds. Simply put, Tarantino makes art films about nothing. They’re fancy, overly-long, loaded with dialogue, and they have absolutely no point or purpose. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS has some interesting ideas and one terrific character, but it otherwise has no reason to exist.
Shrek Musical Rant
I’m so glad to be home. Don’t get me wrong, today was an easy day, but I had to hear “hot and tranny mess” five fucking times today…and then kids repeating the T-word badmouthing Trans-people in general conversation after that. And then it was almost hopeless to try and get them to stop because they would turn it around and say “It’s in the movie that’s showing.”
For those that have no idea what I’m talking about, in Shrek: The Musical, the Big Bad Wolf sings, “They ripped my cotton granny dress, and they called me a hot and tranny mess.”
Shrek: The Musical used the derogatory slur for a cheap laugh. There was no intelligence behind the joke, and the piece does not even remotely call for that word in order to tell BBWolf’s story. Not to mention, he isn’t even a transgender but rather a cross-dresser. There’s a huge difference between transgender and cross-dresser.
(In all honestly, I also had a little issue with the gay fairy joke in Finding Neverland, again used for an outdated cheap laugh.) Musical theatre, considering how supportive it claims to be of the LGBT+ community, does love to use stereotypes for cheap laughs in general. 🤦🏻
I get the line was actually a pop cultural reference when Shrek the Musical debuted, to Christian Siriano of Project Runway fame. (Not an excuse for it’s use, but rather to provide context.)
I’m not accusing Siriano of malice, but the usage is equivalent to teens using “gay” to denote anything they consider stupid. The writers of Shrek should have known better!
I just feel it’s perpetuating hate in people who may be transfeminine/woman/girl, etc and also continuing this massive misunderstanding of what transpeople are!
On a positive note: I do enjoy the song “Freak Flag” toward the end of the show which is the fairy tale characters harmonizing about letting their “Freak Flag” wave and is a very positive LGBT+ relatable song for those that wanna add the song to their Pride playlists.
Me, Calico: From the Inside 