Castration stories

I got diagnosed with Hodgkins at 27 and am fortunate to have beat it at this point, but after 2 years of intensive treatment process my balls stopped working. Chemical Castration they call it; like Alan Turing but different circumstance. I ended up having T in the low 100s.
For a year I slogged around unable to lose weight, maintain an erection and depressed (I had gained 40lbs from high dose steroids). I've always been big into fitness and could not get through a moderate workout without feeling like death after.
I went to the urologist and got on topical TRT after waiting to see if it would bounce back for a year a year but it never did and it was 100% the right call. If you have high risk for blood clots like I do after cancer treatment then topical is the right call with lower risk according to my doc compared to injection. I know it gets shit on here sometimes but that's what I was told.
I hate the stigma that even my doc acts like I don't really need it and I get shit from my brother on a soap box about it because he thinks I'm being callous and "taking steroids" but my levels are regularly in the 600s and I feel incredible. My quality of life is almost like I was untouched by the massive amounts of chemo I received. I can lift and run again and have no issues in the bedroom anymore. I know this is a basic story but if there is anyone hesitant who needs it, just do it.

This story is LONG, but the details and chain of events are necessary in order to have proper insight and to form the opinions/POVs that I'm seeking.
Before I get to the "emotional cheating" incident: here is the backstory.
My boyfriend and I work in the same industry. We are both contractors and met at a job site we had both travelled to for work. When we met, both of us fell in love almost immediately and moved pretty quickly into a relationship. One day, not long after we started seeing each other, we were hanging out in his hotel room after work when he confessed to me that up until we met, he had been texting and calling his ex (who he ended his relationship with two years prior) on a daily basis. He claimed they were just being casual and friendly, and he said he was glad he met me and fell in love, because this girl would have "sucked him back in" to a relationship. According to him, his ex was very mean and toxic and had mental issues that ultimately ruined their relationship. He said the day he first met me, he ghosted her and never talked to her or texted her again. I believed him, and it didn't really bother me that they had been in contact. I mean, plenty of people dabble with the idea of getting back with their ex. And it was before he met me. I truly believed he no longer had those feelings and he was in love with only me.
As the days and weeks went on, I started asking questions about the ex and their former relationship. Not out of insecurity, but out of sheer curiosity (I've truly never been the jealous type, ever.) He would talk openly about her when I asked, telling me the good and the bad (Mostly the bad) but all in all, he admitted that despite their toxic dynamic he still considered himself happy with her. He had been in love, and he had even shopped for wedding rings at times. None of this bothered me either.
Fast forward a couple of months into the relationship... he suddenly out of seemingly nowhere started to question me all the time about men in my life. I am a woman who definitely gets along better with men than I do women, and I'm fiercely independent, so therefore I had plenty of male friends. This ate him alive. I won't go into all the boring details, but little by little he started forcing me to stop communications with pretty much every person I cared about who was a male. One time, he even physically barred me from leaving the room until I blocked this person and that person, and by the end of the night he had physically forced me to delete all of my social media. His controlling behavior was over the top and it resulted in plenty of arguments. Before this incident, he tricked me into giving him the passcode to my phone, and he then started helping himself to my phone (without my knowledge or my permission) and literally LOOKING for calls or messages to see if I was talking to other men, looking for ANYTHING to start a fight about. If I changed my passcode, he'd accuse me of being a liar who hides things and would bully me unrelentingly until I changed it back. I have never had a relationship like this so I didn't know how to address it or make it stop. He convinced me that it was his right as my partner to have access to my phone, and if I had nothing to hide then it shouldn't be an issue. His insecurities were excessive. But I continued to love him and deal with it as best I could.
When it was getting close to time for our job at the job site to end and it was time for all contractors to go home, my boyfriend told me that he had another job lined up at another job site. This job was to take several months to complete. (One detail I haven't mentioned: his ex ALSO works in the same industry as us) And this job he had lined up was in another state. Which state? Yep, the same state his ex lives in. And who else was going to be at this job site where he'd be working? You guessed it, his ex!
At the time, it didn't bother me all that much knowing he'd be in the same location as his ex. He acted very non-chalant about it, like he didn't care whether she was there or not. He assured me that if he saw her he wouldn't talk to her (I didn't ask him to do that, he offered) and swore that he wanted nothing to do with her. Honestly, it's a big job site so the chance of them being in close proximity of each other was pretty slim anyways. I had a slight nervousness if I thought too much about it, but overall I didn't have any true worries at all about the situation.
He left straight from the job he and I were working, and went straight to the next job (where his ex worked). I travelled home to take a few months off, so he and I were going to be apart for a little while. On the first day he started this new job, he called me to be honest and let me know that he had run into his ex, and she had approached him and hugged him and they only saw each other for a few seconds and then they both went their own ways. That was it. I assured him I was not upset at the encounter and that I'm glad she was at least still kind to him after he ghosted her the way he did. I thanked him for telling me about it. It made me truly trust him and believe he was a faithful person to his core.
After a few weeks of being apart and in different states, he and I started missing each other, so we decided he would leave his job for one week and meet in Florida so that we could go on vacation for my birthday.
Well, this vacation started off well at first. But after a few days he started being weird again and accusing me of hiding my phone from him and acting nervous anytime he had it in his hand and acted as if I were being suspicious and hiding things from him. Well, of course I didn't want him anywhere my phone, and not because I was hiding anything... but because he would get into my phone just look through my messages for something "inappropriate", and if he couldn't find anything, he'd just create an "inappropriate" scenario out of something harmless and create an issue that didn't even exist. And a senseless fight would happen and it always ended with him making me cry to the point of hyperventilation and forcing me to apologize for something I didn't even do wrong. It was traumatizing. So yes... I started being nervous about him being anywhere near my phone out of fear of the mental torment he would inflict on me. Things didn't seem right to me. His behavior went beyond controlling or insecure... he was paranoid. And paranoia always has a root.
Despite this terrible behavior from him, he still had his sweet and doting side that kept me in love with him.
For the next part: What I am about to tell you is completely out of my character... I am NOT normally this person, but at the time I believed it to be a necessary action.
One day during our vacation, while he was taking a long shower, I noticed he had left his phone on the bed. At the time, I was soooo angry with him for all the times he went through my phone trying to start a fight and gaslit me and slowly isolated me from every one of my friends for his own selfish reasons. For all the times he made me cry and apologize for things I didn't do and leave me feeling humiliated. So... I took his phone and I looked through it. Just to ease my fears and put it out of my mind. I mean, he looked through mine plenty of times, so why shouldn't I look through his if I felt I had reason to? I would normally NEVER do this. I had never had the desire to before.
My boyfriend always prided himself for being someone who is steadfastly loyal to his woman and unwaveringly honest and always talked about how the cheating culture makes him sick, so I truly believed he was a trustworthy man in that regard. I didn't think I'd find anything. I thought I was just looking through his phone to put my mind to rest.
Well, I was wrong. I found things.
The first thing I found in his messages were the conversations that he had been having with his ex before we met. You remember how they had supposedly just been casually texting with each other and nothing serious was going on between them? Well, he had been very misleading about that topic. (Side note: he had not physically seen or been near this ex of his for two whole years, they had not seen each other since their relationship ended.) He had told me that they were casually chit chatting, just doing some catching up. I read through the messages between them. He was ABSOLUTELY NOT just chit chatting casually with her... he was telling her he LOVED HER daily, and how much he missed her and how she'd always be his best friend no matter what. He was reminiscing on all these intimate moments and sweet memories with her and said how deeply he cherished them. They were even calling each other "babe". They were, by all definitions, back together. Maybe not officially or on paper because they had not seen each other for two years, but they were all about each other without a doubt and really putting on the love, and the subject of their conversations left no doubt this wasn't just casual communication. And to top it off... he had told me before she was trying to "suck him back in" as if she were some kind of evil soul-sucking siren.... but in these messages it was very obvious it was the other way around. She was asking him to take things slow and just be friends for a while, and he was telling her that "he couldn't take it slow with her" because of his love for her. He was asking her to meet up with him soon. He WANTED to get back with her. So, there was proof that he lied directly to my face about all of that. He was very obviously the one pursuing a reconciliation, not her. I understand that this was all before he met me, but it's still was a painful shock to find out that he hid the real truth from me. In my book, he was with this girl by all accounts, not casually talking.
The other thing I found... this is where the real punch in the gut happened.
BEFORE he had even travelled to this job site where he would run into his ex (several days before) I found in his messages where he was texting a close friend of his, who also worked at this job site where the ex worked, and asked his friend if there was any chance that the ex would be working on this particular job with them or if he would see her at all. When the friend replied "Probably not", my boyfriend replied, in exact words, "I'm anxious to see her". The conversations between them continued over a few days, and my boyfriend started turning the conversations EXTREMELY sexual, and here are some things that he said to his friend:
"I'm going to want to pounce on her the second I lay eyes on her"
"I love R**** (me) and all, but M**** (the ex) has that good demon p*ssy I can't get enough of"
"She gives off those strong pheromones and I'm just so attracted to her"
"I'm going to need a shock collar on my d**k to keep me off of her"
"I'll need a sex change or a chemical castration to keep me away from her"
"I'll need to shower all the time because she always loved my musk, and that will take care of "my problem"
These are only some of the messages I found. I found lots more that hurt me to the core and I'm sure there were more that I did not find. And FYI... like I said, this sexual talk was not just in one conversation and then it was over with.... oh yes, these conversations were brought up (by my boyfriend alone) MULTIPLE times over the span of many days, both before and after he ran into her.
I also found separate texts that were sent to his uncle. ON THE VERY DAY that he ran into his ex at the job site, he very willingly on his own accord texted his uncle just to tell him that he ran into her, and she was looking really really hot, and it really really sucked for him. I can safely assume what he meant by that.
Of course, I confronted him about these messages a few days later. He became very upset and very scared, because I was prepared to break up with him. I had been cheated on in the past, and I was not about to allow that to happen again. He admitted that he was an idiot for sending those messages and he didn't think it through or consider my feelings in any way before he decided to say all of these things. He was only slightly apologetic though, he was not nearly as apologetic as he should have been, because he was mostly defending himself and making excuses for the messages and trying to explain everything away and claiming it was not what I thought it was.
In the end, I did not break up with him. Should I have? Absolutely. But I have a habit of letting my emotions cloud my judgement.
Here is his explanation for all of the things he said:
-Saying "I'm anxious to see her" meant he was simply "nervous" about running into her, not that he was excited at the idea of running into her. To me, this was just insulting because EVERYONE in the world knows what it means "to be anxious" to do something. He thinks I'm truly that dumb, apparently.
-That the sexual talk to his friend was simply "locker room talk" and "just a thing guys do" and he didn't mean anything by it. He truly tried to convince me that it's totally normal to have conversations over and over about how you are longing for and lusting after your ex-girlfriend, even though you are in a committed relationship with someone else. It's normal. I truly didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that statement.
-When he ran into her and then turned around to text his uncle straight away just to tell him how hot she was looking, he tried to defend it by saying "Well.. I mean, she did look good" and that he's "allowed to simply SAY when another woman looks pretty". Again, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
-He also claimed that telling his uncle that "it really really sucked" running into her looking so fine simply meant he was angry that he ran into her because he didn't want to see her at all. Wow, right?
In the past, he and I have had conversations about cheating, what it is, and what it means. Very in-depth conversations. We had both agreed that ANYTIME you give your emotional or sexual attention or energy towards any person other than your partner, you are cheating. If a guy likes another woman's sexy skin-baring Instagram pics, that's crossing into cheating territory. If another man flirts with a woman and she happily accepts the attention and does not even mention that she has a boyfriend, that's cheating territory..... but my boyfriend argues that this incident was not in the realm of cheating at all.
Over the course of our relationship, we have had MANY fights about this and it's come up a lot. It's one of the deepest issues I struggle with in our relationship that we have just not yet been able to completely get past. In one argument, he claimed that, despite all the lusting over his ex he did in his texts, running into her that day solidified that he no feelings for her anymore. Later in another argument, he changed his story and admitted that running into her created a rush of emotions and that he had been on his mind both before and after running into her. Which obviously this is why these texts that betrayed our relationship were sent in the first place.
One day when we were trying to talk this all out, I asked him, "If you are in a committed relationship with me, and you were to tell a woman, 'I want you, I want to have sex with you, you're so beautiful, I want to jump your bones whenever you are around'.... that is emotionally cheating on me, right?" He responded that yes, of course that is emotionally cheating. And then I ask, "So you are trying to tell me that saying THESE EXACT SAME THINGS, just to other people instead of directly to her, disqualifies it as emotional cheating??" He said yes. Despite the fact that we had already AGREED early in the relationship on what emotional cheating was, he continues to defend himself and say he did not cheat in any way and it was all harmless.
I think we can all agree that he lied to me about not being in love with her when we got together and was very obviously still obsessed with this woman and lusting after her even before running into her at work. As far as I know, he has not texted or had any communications with her since we met. However, the pain I felt after finding these messages absolutely makes me feel like he cheated on me. He argues with absolute steadfastness that he did not cheat.
Give me your opinions, insight, and knowledge. Did he emotionally cheat?
EDIT:: I am fully aware that what he did was awful and I should leave him and I deserve better, etc. I already know this and is not the advice I'm looking for. I am simply asking for insight and opinions on whether I am valid in my feelings and he cheated, or if he did not.

The Titans and gods of Olympus
Don't mind me, just a fan of the greek mythology and Netflix's show ' Blood of Zeus '
This origin story comes from some of the earliest Greek writings that had survived.
In the beginning there was nothing. Out of this void of nothingness emerged the first primordial being called Gaia (the Earth) and other divine beings such as Eros (Love), the Abyss (part of the underworld), and Erebus (the unknowable place where death dwells).
Without male assistance mother earth (Gaia) gave birth to the sky and his name was Uranus. Uranus went on and took Gaia as her wife (weird right?) and with that union Gaia gave birth to the Titans. Six males and females. They were: Coeus, Crius, Cronus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Oceanus, and six females: Mnemosyne, Phoebe, Rhea, Theia, Themis, and Tethys.
After this both Gaia and Uranus agreed there was no need for more titans (don’t fess up too much about it, I also struggled with the pronunciation)
Now, Uranus hated his children and hid them beneath the earth (he saw his kids as ugly looking), causing Gaia and his son Cronus to devise a plan to destroy him.
Gaia created a sickle cell with which Cronus used to castrate his father and the blood that fell, fertilized Gaia from where the most beautiful goddess rose; Aphrodite.
Uranus lost power to Cronus but warned him that he, too, would face being overthrown by his son. Cronus became the ruler and beside him was sister turned wife Rhea (don’t ask, I have no idea why).
The other Titans became his court. Cronus feared that the same way he overthrew his father, so would his children that’s why every time Rhea gave birth he would snatch and eat them up.
Rhea hated this and tricked him by hiding one child, Zeus, and wrapping a stone in a baby’s blanket so that Cronus ate the stone instead of the baby.
Zeus spent his childhood on Mount Ida, being trained by the local nymphs and satyrs (the nature ladies and the half-goat/donkey dudes respectively).
He learnt a lot about plants and stuff there, and at last, went up to Kronos in disguise and applied for a job (and got accepted) for the post of his cupbearer (someone who is a bartendeservant man basically).
One wild night he initiated a drinking game between the Titans, and got Cronus to drink a mixture of mustard and nectar (or wine, depending on which version you prefer). Cronus immediately retched out the five other children, who somehow emerged as full-grown adults. Taking advantage of the Titans' stoned condition, Zeus and the others (Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades and Poseidon) turned into eagles and flew away from Mount Othrys, the Titans' capital.
Zeus then challenged Cronus to war for the kingship title. At last Zeus and his siblings, the Olympians, were victorious, and the Titans were hurled down to imprisonment in the Abyss.

So recently I had a life ruining experience from visiting a urologist a little over a month ago. I've shared my story here and other places before. I just wanted to share it again in more detail to hopefully help prevent someone else from having this happen to them.
About two months ago I decided I wanted to finally get on TRT. I'm in my early 30s and have had a low libido from past SSRI use, low energy, and have been struggling to get past my plateau in the gym for years. So I finally saw my primary care doctor and my testosterone came back around 250 so she agreed to prescribe me TRT. I wanted to also take HCG with it because I had heard it was good for keeping fertility and testicle size. I asked my PCP for it and she said she used to be able to prescribe it, but not anymore and that a urologist probably would. So I got her to refer me to a urologist. Little did I know this was the beginning of my end.
I continued to take the TRT while I waited on the urologist appointment. I was on week 4 of TRT and I noticed my libido and erections had been made to be incredible. Like I never had in my life. I felt so good and happy I wanted to cry out and thank God. I felt horny like a teenager again. It was awesome. I couldn't believe I waited so long to try TRT.
At this point my urologist appointment finally came. I went to the office and I remember being in the waiting room with an erection just from thinking about a girl I had a date coming up with which I hadn't had happen in years. I felt like it was the best day of my life truly. I was pumped about life. During the appointment with the urologist I asked for HCG to take with my TRT and he said no he doesn't prescribe it. He even kind of acted confused as to why I would even want it. I thought well shoot whatever I guess I'll talk to him about TRT while I'm here. I told him the TRT had been helping my libido and erections. He looked at me and said TRT doesn't do anything for erectile dysfunction if that's what you're having. I said well I feel like its been helping me. He then said he wanted to do a physical exam on me before I left since he thought I was having erection issues. I didn't expect an exam because I was fine down there but I agreed since I was in a good mood that day. Nothing was phasing me that day. This is when my life got destroyed.
I laid on my back on the exam table with my underwear down and he started his exam. First thing he does is roughly spread open my urethra opening on the head of my penis which felt weird. Next thing he did is the moment my life was over. He then proceeded to pinch just under my glans and stretch my penis hard as far as he could while squeezing all up and down the shaft. Felt like he was gonna rip off my penis he stretched it so hard. At the time I didn't feel much pain but it felt very uncomfortable from the force. Then he checked for hernias and then it was over. Afterwards I noticed when I was putting my pants back on I was feeling sore in my penis and also numb. I didn't think much of it because I wanted out of there at this point.
While walking to my truck I felt down there again and felt numb and sore. I thought that was odd but I shook it off because I had to return to work. After work I noticed I was still sore and numb. I started to get worried. I had no idea what was going on. I noticed I also couldn't get an erection. I thought maybe it's just my anxiety and I'll just sleep it off. While in bed I started having sharp electric shock like pains in my penis almost like nerve pain that would hit me at random times during the night. The next day I waited to see if things were getting any better and they didn't. Was still sore and having sharp pains, numbness, and total erectile dysfunction. My penis was so numb that I couldn't feel when I was holding it or when I pissed. I couldn't feel hot, cold, or any sensation at all. Total paralysis feeling that went deep into the entire shaft and head. My penis had a really odd look and rubbery feel to it too. The veins were engorged and I had swollen wrinkles on my shaft. It looked completely lifeless and the base of it would collapse onto itself weirdly.
On the morning of day 2 the complete numbness and feeling of disconnect to my penis was really starting to worry me so I called the urologist office. I asked if I could immediately talk to the doctor because I was having numbness and erectile dysfunction since the exam. The receptionist acted confused about my symptoms and said he was busy and he would call later. I waited by the phone all day and 4:00pm came around and I still heard nothing. So I called back and she said he will call later. Finally around 7:00pm he called. I told him I was completely numb, sore, and had erectile dysfunction since the exam and didn't know what was going on. He asked if I had hurt my back getting up off the exam table. I said no I didn't. He then said I sounded anxious and asked if I had something going on in my life because anxiety could do that. I felt fucking gaslit. I said yeah I'm anxious about this numbness, pain, and erectile dysfunction going on in my life. He said he didn't do anything to cause it but he would happily take a look again to see if he sees anything. I wasn't about to let this psycho touch me again so I just said I would call tomorrow whether I would come back.
I went back to my PCP and told her what happened and asked if I could go to another urologist. So I got another appointment schedule with a different one. As the week went on the soreness and sharp pains continued as well as being completely numb. All morning woods and erections had stopped. My newly awesome libido was gone too. I got scared and went to two different ERs twice. Told them that I was stretched on my penis really hard and all the symptoms I was having. First ER urologist said I could have Peyronies disease from this injury and to see him in four months to check for hardened scar tissue. Second ER I just told them my symptoms and they gave me an MRI of my spine and everything was good.
At this point I started calling law offices. I called six different lawyer offices and told them what was done to me and they all turned down my case. Too hard to prove I'm guessing.
As the weeks have gone by the pain went away but all symptoms have gotten worse including the severe numbness, total erectile dysfunction, and loss of libido. Haven't had a morning wood or spontaneous erection in over a month. I feel like my manhood has been destroyed. I literally feel castrated like I don't have a penis anymore. I am incapable of getting any erection without stimulating really hard and then its very weak and I lose it immediately. Not even Cialis has an effect on me. And there is no point in even trying to get an erection anymore because it is so numb it feels like a piece of hollow rubber. Like my penis is not even connected to my body. It's a really disturbing feeling.
Shortly after my symptoms began I discovered people online that do penis enlargement stretches report similar symptoms after they stretched their penis too far. Many of them reported permanent numbness and ED. Another I learned of is called "hard flaccid syndrome" and I realized that I had most of the symptoms unfortunately. Its apparently a rare condition caused by trauma to the penis that most doctors don't even acknowledge exists. It's a permanent condition with no real known treatment.
I'm still taking TRT, but unfortunately it no longer has any libido boosting or erection effects on me anymore. Bloodwork is all good too btw. I really am sad that I won't get that awesome immediate horny and hard feeling just from looking at a girl's ass anymore. That was cool for the few days I got to experience it on TRT. And the confidence boosting effects I had from TRT are gone too because when you have no libido and a dead dick what's there to be confident about?
Anyway, I hope my story can help some guys here realize they should be very careful when letting a doctor examine their penis. Especially a urologist. Make sure to tell them to be gentle if they do. I've heard other guys have similar experiences of urologists stretching them too hard. I think they do it to test the "elasticity" of the penis for some reason. I believe its a Peyronies disease test. Either way protect yourself. I wish I did.

1. Fallout 3 is actually a good game and a good Fallout.

Yes, I know. It has it's problems and it doesn't even come close to New Vegas but. Hear me out.
What Fallout games are supposed to do above other things is to be a good role playing experience. And Fallout 3 does just that. The quests are, apart from some few terribly designed ones, decent. Unlike in most modern RPGs, you aren't lead by the hand (however, it was sometimes pushed to the other extreme) and you actually do have control over the outcomes - you are able to make choices that are impactful, and they aren't limited to simply chosing once at the end of every quest. You can feel they have consequences for some pretty well written NPC if not for your character. I know you are forced to stick to one faction and the main questline kind of sucks but so does the one in NV regardless of your faction choice. Fallout 3 also does something we loved Morrowind and New Vegas for - you are able to get a unique item or other piece of content out of sudden, doing something seemingly irrelevant in a seemingly unimportant location. Attention to detail in F3 locations in general is simply... great, I'd even risk it and say it's somewhat done more thoroughly than in New Vegas (yeah, yeah. Bethesda's deadlines I know nonetheless - I'm judgning what's on the table).
Another thing that the first Bethesda's contribution to the franchise does well is attempting to create a feeling of artificial solitude... and doing it really well. Your character is named The Lone Wanderer... and he really IS one. This... atmosphere. Something really hard to achieve and the devs nailed it.
Don't get me wrong. While I'm not an Obsidian purist, I'm not saying "3" is as good as NV. I'm simply stating that it's by no means a bad game.

1. It's Fallout 4, not Fallout 76, that's the real insult to the franchise.

Pfff, where do I start? Fallout games are known for being role playing games. Thus, what they gather around themselves are RPG fans. We love them because they let us immerse ourselves in a post apocalyptic world, play a role and have our own story. Nobody expects a spin-off to be exactly what the "main" installments are. It's a spin-off after all. It can be an FPS, hack and slash, a card game or a fucking Battle Royale for all I care. But if you are trying to create a worthy continuation of a franchise you should stick to what the series is supposed to be and at least try to fucking include the elements people love it for. Fallout is all about choices. Dialogues in Fallouts are supposed to be non-linear, unpredictable and dependent on what your character has experienced, you are supposed to be able to be unconventional, clever, sly, cynical, noble... What the fuck is this 4-choice (sometimes de facto only 1-choice) garbage implemented only to make console players' lives 0.0001% easier? This is a real spit in the fandom's face. And, somtimes because of that, the quests became... linear, bland. They, for the most part, aren't quests anymore. They are just tasks. Your choose rarely and if you do - your choices are binary. And a great share of this binary choices' impact is illusory. And of top of that they miss... something. I feel like Bethesda was too busy designing them so a casual player is protected from consequences of their own actions to make them... How should I put this? Dazzling.
I do know current AAA gaming is all about monetization. But come on, you aren't selling games to apes. Why castrating the game of a skill system that was really good?
And the main factions. While you do have a non-binary choice here, they are all... bland. Choosing your main faction in NV was hard and has been a subject of moral debates a decade after releasing the game. Even the Caesar's Legion had it's good side and wasn't that terribly made despite Bethesda's deadlines. In Fallout 4, however, I have a feeling that choosing your faction is a choice that is only a little less illusory than those "decisions" you make during the "quests".
Yeah, the settlement building system is good. And the followers and the interactions with them are amazing, I'll give them that. The Far Harbor DLC is decent for the most part. Also - I do like the legendary weapons system, I don't know why. There are also the obvious things like graphics, putting some work into making weapons heavily modifiable and improving how the Power Armors work, but they're a result of increasing hardware and current technology capabilities rather than great creative process decisions resulting from understanding of the franchise and they are actually mostly secondary things when it comes to Fallout keypoints.
But that's it. I can understand why a casual player enjoy Fallout 4. But for me, a Fallout veteran, tthe game downgraded in every other aspect, including the most vital ones. And main games
SHOULD NOT DOWNGRADE
Thanks for reading

Excuse my bad english, i used AI to translate some parts, im not a native speaker. So, here goes the story of how Jehovah's Witnesses almost drove me to suicide, how my grandmother disowned me, and why I am now 1,327 kilometers away from my family, haha.
I was born into a three-generation JW family in Cancún, Mexico. I never had birthdays, Halloween, or any of the world's holidays. From ages 0 to 3, my nuclear family was distant from the JWs. I learned to read and began reading Watchtower literature. I never liked the idea that Jehovah was going to commit genocide on 99% of the world's population and that we would be happy in paradise with exile, resurrection, and more. At age 4, they resumed their service to the organization and tried to raise me solely with Watchtower literature. Everything else was practically forbidden, although I loved watching documentaries and reading about nature. I became a fan of some school books. I was never allowed to have a single friend, and at school, I was forced to have perfect grades, or else my parents would beat me, and this continued until I was 8 years old.
When I was 8, my father quit his job because a coworker started sexually harassing him. From that moment on, life in my family went downhill. I discovered I was gay, and every "teaching" started to irritate me more and more. My father tried to dedicate himself more to the organization's service, so it took him almost a year to find a job that allowed him to do so. At the beginning of this period, I was sent to my grandmother's house for her to take care of me for 3 months. The hell of the Catholics sounded more appealing than being there. I stopped going to school, and every day began with waking up at 5:45 am, considering the day's text for an hour, then breakfast, preaching from 7:30 am to 3:00 pm under 30-degree heat, a break for a meager meal, and then continuing with studies from 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm. Upon returning home, we would study the ministry school or the Watchtower until 10:00 pm, every day. Sundays, we had our meeting at 9:00 am, and we still went out to preach in the morning from 6:30 to 8:30.
I remember during that time I lost weight, going from being overweight to the lower limit of a healthy weight, even developing anemia. I suffered from heat strokes, dehydration, and other issues. The worst part was the Saturday Watchtower study. My grandmother wouldn't schedule studies that day so we could study the Watchtower. We started at 3 in the afternoon and continued until nearly 10 at night or even later, reading every biblical passage, every reference in the central column. We didn't have dinner until we finished studying. If I yawned, she would pinch me, and one day she tried to slap me. Adding to this was her favoritism towards other more "spiritual" cousins and her constant reminders that I would die for not having blind faith in God. Those were 3 months of my life. After that, I returned home and resumed my studies.
That year, we ended up living off poor government aid, and I made my first friend in primary school. Her mother was the sweetest woman I had ever known. She gave me desserts, fed me when we had no money, something the brothers NEVER did for my family. Here begins the next chapter of my family.
My father got a job in Cancun's public transportation but quit because he had to break many laws in a highly competitive and illegal environment. Desperate, my father accepted the lowest job offer from one of his JW brothers, working from 8 am to 6:30 pm, with no overtime pay, for $25 a week to support a family of five. Meanwhile, the indoctrination continued, torturing me with the idea that I would be destroyed at Armageddon for being secretly homosexual and completely isolated from my schoolmates due to my beliefs and poverty, thanks to this religion and abusive brothers.
My father started taking me to work on weekends, some weekdays, and holidays. They didn't pay anything extra for me; I worked entirely for free. At school, I resented the lack of money. Sometimes I would pick up government notebooks that kids threw away. My uniform was falling apart.
I started secondary school, and this situation continued. I was switched from the afternoon shift to the morning shift because of bullying at school. During that time, I met my first real friend, a guy who always supported me. He was a fan of creepy pastas and the paranormal, someone who was absent once or twice a week but with whom I enjoyed spending time. We would lie on the classroom floor listening to scary stories. I developed romantic feelings for him but never had the chance to confess. One day, after school, he walked me to a street before my house, where my father was waiting for me. A brother had leaked what was happening. I had managed to get a cell phone, which my parents checked daily to see what I was doing. At 15, they forbade me from having any contact with him, so I ended the friendship and suppressed my feelings until we finished the last year of secondary school. He didn't attend the graduation day. That day, I was completely alone. My parents went with me, but no one approached me. In Mexico, there's a tradition of signing your friends' shirts. Mine had the signature of one teacher, and nothing more. None of my classmates recognized me as a friend that day.
Two months passed. I entered high school, and one day, while walking back from preaching with my mother, I met one of my former schoolmates. We had ended up fighting, but we respected each other. When he saw me, tears welled up in his eyes. I had never seen him like that. He approached me and told me that my first friend had died of cancer. I was in shock. I told him not to joke, and he asked if I ever wondered why he was absent so often and the school never said anything, why he grew his hair long until he started missing more and more. I remember that day I felt pain like never before. I felt like I was collapsing inside. I wanted to vomit and cry. I regretted for years having left him to die alone. I felt like a traitor. My parents didn't care, but I fell into a depression that took years to overcome. To distract my mind, I started preaching more and filling my mind with dogmas. But I knew, I knew I could never achieve eternal life as a homosexual, I knew I could never make my parents happy, I knew I shouldn't get baptized, or when I got disfellowshipped, my family would consider me dead.
I started a spiral of self-hatred that one day led to harmful thoughts. I began to think about using chemical castration to eliminate my impulses, about amputating my genitals to avoid sinning. I started to think that if I died, I would be resurrected.
During high school, everyone in the congregation who talked to me only pressured me to get baptized. But I knew that if I did, it would lead to an even worse situation. And the spiral began. With each assembly, these feelings grew stronger. They kept reminding me that I had to do it, that I had to go out into the world as a JW. And everyday, some homophobic things that make me more and more fragile.
At 18, my both parents ended up working to pay off debts. I started staying home, waking up at 2 pm, and sleeping up to 20 hours a day. They labeled me spiritually lazy. I was dying more each day, and no one cared. No one in the congregation was truly my friend.
Then one day, my sister sent me to a government program to get a job. A psychologist noticed my problems and interviewed me. I started a small treatment, where I slowly made friends and became more expressive. I didn't know how to speak properly with others even though I could give talks and preach. I was socially stagnant. All the young people in the congregation ostracized me for not being a blind believer, and on top of that, I was sarcastic, so I was the one left out. I was invited to a gathering only once, with the condition that I couldn't talk to anyone about anything. Time passed, and from that government program, I started working at an institution. I met my first angels, my female coworkers, five wonderful women who practically taught me how to speak again, who explained how to celebrate a birthday, how to socialize, how to talk properly with others.
During this time, with some expertise in hiding information from my family, I bought a phone I only used at work. Curiosity got the better of me, and I started visiting Telegram groups, where I met my former partner, someone who helped me finally leave the Jehovah's Witnesses. When the pandemic started, I was sent home. My family tried to use that phone, but it had a password. When they asked for it, I refused. For the first time in my life, I refused such an order. I started to distance myself little by little. I grew my hair long, started going out more, talking more with my ex, and so on. Gradually, I distanced myself. I didn't attend Zoom meetings, and I stopped preaching by letter. Then the presidential elections came, and I was forced to vote to keep my job, which was the only source of income for my family during the pandemic. I did it, went out to vote, which cost me my position as a publisher. I was more than happy. Some brothers called me, hat was the firstime in 4 years that they made a phone call. The quarantine ended, and I finally returned to my office with my coworkers.
Then my grandmother reappeared, trying to condition me to become a preacher again, and she tried to manipulate me. I flatly refused and left. Then something worse happened: she came to live with us, and every day it was the same argument, until one day, during a trip to the beach (Cancun, baby), she tried to corner me with an elder and a pioneer. I simply told them to move away. They refused and said I had to come back and cut my hair. I told my grandmother no, and that I didn't want to talk about it with anyone anymore, that it was my life and she should use the little time she had left. Later, I found out that she had removed me from her will over some land in the outskirts of Cancun. I don't regret.
Then my father noticed something and told me that if he discovered anything, he would kick me out of the house. He asked me if I was gay, to which I replied "maybe." He said that if I declared it, I would have to leave the house. At that time, I had already broken up with my ex, who had moved to the center of the country. I talked to him and his current partner, and they said it would be no problem, that they could take me in if something happened. I told my sister about my suicidal thoughts after she asked what had happened with my father. Then, my parents got me a psychologist, who started helping me progress and overcome some of the issues I had with my self-esteem. However, what I didn't know was that he was leaking EVERYTHING to my parents, and thus they confirmed my sexuality and found out about my relationship.
I endured that year and told my parents that I would leave home on my 23rd birthday. I took the UNAM exam, which I didn't pass 😅😅. I told them, and they dropped a bombshell: "we were hoping you would fail your exam so you wouldn't leave." That gave me the impetus to do it, to finalize my escape. With anger and nostalgia, a few days later, I took a flight to another city where my friends took me in. I think I can consider them more than friends, they are my family, i have one on cancun, that needs to leave that religion. Right now, I'm looking into starting treatment again, specifically for victims of coercive sects. I live much more freely, maybe not in a super city, but happily, without my family's eyes always watching me. I have never felt so free in my life.
To the Jehovah's Witnesses reading this, remember, we born and raised in cages, but it is not a disease to fly; it is the freedom of this world that awaits us. It will be more dangerous, but it will also be much more interesting. You will be able to suffer and enjoy, love and pain, the full life, not a life of only pain to die in loneliness, to die with a false hope. You can move forward, you can make it; there are many like us out here. It will hurt, but once you learn to fly, you won't even want to look back. My life only began at 24, I am just about to start studying at university. I didn't study because of that religion, but I know I will soon. These chains are not that strong; they are just too big to carry. Throw them off and come fly with us.
This is my history, my life, the start of my new life.
Thanks everybody, you rocks!

Only last year did I realize that I actually love "fantasy", I just never called it that. I love books that deal with the fantastic - especially things that make me feel challenged, on-edge, and/or unsettled. For me, fantasy is not escapism but an exploration of conceits that can't be approached in other forms of fiction. The example I'll give to anyone willing to listen is Jorge Luis Borges, whose short-form fiction collected within Labyrinths and Ficciones frequently considers philosophical concepts taken to their logical extremes. For example: what if two people wrote the exact same book? Does the fact it's two different people with two different lives, backgrounds, and belief systems change what individual lines mean, or do we take Death of the Author to its extreme and treat them as the exact same book?
For 2023, my bingo card was the sardonic "Weird shit I read in the woods". Depending on your point of view, my obsession of mountaineering is either mania or hyperfocus; I like to read books in my tent after long days. Spring here has been an absolute clusterfuck of work and weather (and on top of that I'm dealing with a twisted ankle) so these eight books might be better described as "Weird shit I read while plaintively sighing westward". My goal this year is to do full-on hard mode; an erect bingo card.
So far, it's been an awesome year. Five books I strongly enjoyed (with one potentially being a top 20 book I've ever read), two I felt "eh" on but have things to recommend, and only one I just didn't enjoy at all (though even that had some good stuff).
Spoilers on content warnings that would spoil notable plot points or interpretations. All scores are out of 5, with a higher score being a stronger rating. Non-fantasy and speculative fiction at the very end.
Thanks, and hope some of these seem interesting to you!
Other write-ups:

• 2023 bingo: Weird shit I read in the woods
• Five books of nature writing with the vibe of fantasy
• Three novellas
• Five short story collections

Criminals (HM): Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky

• Appeal: 2.75
• Thinkability: 3
• Weird shit? Inspired a lot of weird shit!
• Reading location: Windowside comfy chair
• Date published: 1972
• Page count: 209, including foreword and afterword
• Tags: USSR literature, aliens, science fiction, influential, eldritch
• Content warnings: Body horror, alcoholism, injury detail, pregnancy, infidelity
• Other bingo squares: Multi-POV, Character with a Disability, Survival (HM), Set in a Small Town (HM), Reference Materials

After reading The Master and Margarita in February and it being one of the best books I've ever read in speculative fiction/fantasy, I decided to consciously pursue more Eastern European and Russian/USSR books. (One of these includes László Krasznahorkai's Sátántangó in April, which is now my fifth favorite book I've ever read.) Both Roadside Picnic and Stanislaw Lem's Solaris rocketed up to the top of the to-read list.
Roadside Picnic is one of the most influential books of contemporary science fiction through the Andrei Tarkovsky movie Stalker and S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series of video games. (Fun fact, the Strugatsky brothers just liked the word.) It takes place in a small town in four distinct time periods over around a decade. This small town (along with several others) were visited by utterly unknowable aliens recently in earth's past whose visit sites are full of strange, dangerous, and immensely valuable artifacts. You (mostly) follow a single stalker named Red and his illegal trips into the Zone, as well as how the Visit impacts his family and those around him.
This'll be one of those books that I like more for the ideas than the content itself. The Zone is fascinating, and I find myself dining on and thinking about the various horrific conceits in the novel. Many of the more insidious aspects are mentioned off-hand, as if the "traps" (how else to think of them from a human perspective?) have become mundane.
However, the book itself is... kind of boring. Perhaps this is because it's so short, which isn't a problem I usually have with speculative fiction (if anything, I overwhelmingly prefer shorter books to longer ones). Forays into the zone are bookended by lots of talking and drinking with what felt like cursory examination of the danger. And I'm not convinced that banality is its own point; Roadside Picnic isn't a character study, as stated in Boris Strugatsky's afterword. Dialogue feels mismatched, chapters start in the middle or at the end of action, and chapters stop right as other events start to move. For a book about the Zone and people's relationship to it, there's an awful lot of puttering about.
The high point is the conversation between two scientist characters. One has a theory about aliens having the eponymous "roadside picnic" and leaving their trash for smaller creatures to obsess over - an absolutely fascinating postmodern outlook on man's purpose in the universe.
I'm glad I read this for the influence on some media that I adore, but it would be a hard sell to someone who isn't deeply invested in the history of Russian science fiction or just wants to get more out of the "Stalker" media.
Multi-POV (HM): Lanny by Max Porter

• Appeal: 4.5
• Thinkability: 4
• Weird shit? The typeset is a character.
• Reading location: Windowside comfy chair
• Date published: 2019
• Page count: 224
• Tags: English literature, "Green Man" mythos, paganism, eald gods, family drama, character study
• Content warnings: Grief, animal death, classism, homophobia, sexual content, bullying, confinement, hate crimes
• Other bingo squares: Dreams, Set in a Small Town (HM)

Just like Borges, I'll exalt the literary merits of Max Porter and Ling Ma (who's also featured here). Both of these are fairly young authors with a small list of works, but I'll easily buy everything they put out if it's anywhere near the quality of what I've read so far.
Porter a British bookstore-owner who writes short novels and novellas (Lanny is his longest) with highly idiosyncratic writing. Have you heard the term "prose-poetry"? Porter writes "prose-poetry-stage directions". Passages are announced with the name of characters in bold, and you read their thoughts or conversations with others rather than "normal" dialogue or descriptions. No surprises his debut Grief Is the Thing with Feathers was indeed adapted for stage, starring Cillian Murphy.
Lanny follows a family who recently moved to a small town outside of London. Their capricious son has a gift for art, cavorts around the town, and has the fine-edged chaos that so many single-digit ages have before they "grow up" or something. The town also embodies the presence of Old Papa Toothwort, a Green Man-esque figure who... inhabits? haunts? is? the town as a sort of genius loci. Toothwort is waking up after a long rest, and the town has changed since last time.
It’s not a spoiler to say that Lanny goes missing. Porter is incredible at describing the creeping fear of searching for a missing child and the irreparable harm it does to a family and community. At one point, POVs switch with every little break as the slow dread sinks in, with characters no longer being introduced but nonetheless distinct, just providing occasional snippets of thoughts or conversation as it turns from "Lanny isn’t home yet in the afternoon" to "have you seen Lanny?" to "I always knew that woman was a bad mum". It is tense.
Spoiler for parents interested in the book but don't want to go in wondering about the missing child plotline: Lanny survives, and the ending is actually kind of sweet in the implied relationship between Lanny, nature, and creativity even after the trauma of his disappearance.
Published in 2024 (HM): This Wretched Valley by Jenny Kiefer

• Appeal: 1.75
• Thinkability: 2
• Weird shit? Kinda?
• Reading location: In bed with a single light on
• Date published: 2024
• Page count: 301
• Tags: Slasher, horror, violent, climbing, Kentucky
• Content warnings: Blood, cannibalism, vomit, child death, animal death
• Other bingo squares: Dreams, Self-Published/Indie, Multi-POV, Survival (HM)

This Wretched Valley was recommended to me as a horror novel that involves climbing. Not only that - it takes place around the Red River Gorge, where I cut my teeth on hard sport climbing. Hell yeah - how could I not?
Four acquaintances uncover a mysterious, brand-new climbing crag in the southeast Kentucky wilderness, and they go to climb the new routes while also study its strange geology. The area turns out to be an eldritch, evil land that shifts and contorts itself to keep people trapped there while luring them with visions of past victims and deep desires. The concept is a little similar to Junji Ito's Uzumaki in that sense, albeit without a singular obsession like that graphic novel's spirals.
The book definitely reflects her understanding/experience within climbing culture at the Red River Gorge, down to referencing specific climbs I've sent. Unfortunately, I felt that the book was a good example of something written by an enthusiast but not so much a writer. The beginning is strong in uncovering the mysterious crag, but the characters just kind of... ruminate. There are flashbacks to other deaths and persons lured there, but there's little to be shown except "land evil!" with inconsistent descriptions of how that evil occurs. People who die there also become evil ghosts (not a spoiler; it happens pretty early on), and it just doesn't really make sense how or why, as if Jenny Kiefer's thoughts on how the land's evil came about changed throughout the novel.
Not that I need everything explained for me, it just felt like "hey what if this land wanted to literally eat people" and only developed about sixty percent of the way. I ended up just being kind of bored, as if each new horror were just "ooo spooky ghost!" rather than something that sank into me. And weirdly enough, there are a lot of descriptions of vomit and its various consistencies. Like, enough that I'm even mentioning it.
This would make a great stylized indie horror B-movie, despite me not liking the book. And even then, I was thinking about why it didn't work for me, which is better than no thoughts at all.
Survival (HM): Beloved by Toni Morrison

• Appeal: 5
• Thinkability: 4
• Weird shit? The fact it isn't "weird" is the most horrific part of it all.
• Reading location: Camping in the Front Range
• Date published: 1987
• Page count: 324
• Tags: Slavery, discursive, ghost story, horror, Civil War literature, Black American literature
• Content warnings: Slavery, infanticide, sexual assault, torture, racism, murder
• Other bingo squares: Criminals, Multi-POV (HM), Set in a Small Town (HM), Author of Color

Beloved was directly cited by the Nobel Committee upon awarding Toni Morrison with the 1993 Nobel Prize in Literature. I see why. Beloved is the kind of book where I want to doubt the humanity of any US citizen even tangentially familiar with slavery who isn't changed upon reading it. I finished it yesterday and stared into space for a few minutes, unhearing my fiancee ask me what kind of burgers I wanted for Memorial Day.
Beloved was inspired by the true story of Margaret Garner - an enslaved woman who escaped to Ohio and killed her daughter before being found so her daughter wouldn't return to the horror of slavery. Horror? That word isn't powerful enough to describe American slavery. Likewise, it would be reductive to call Beloved a horror novel. Though the titular Beloved refers to the ghost of one-year old killed by Sethe (one of the book's protagonists) for the same reason Garner killed her daughter, this is so much more than that. Beloved is both her own story and a eulogy for the "sixty million and more" lost through the Atlantic slave trade - per Morrison's own dedication.
I can't describe more. Nothing I can summarize would be appropriate. It's rare to experience any piece of media so profoundly changing, loving, and heartrending. I can't call it hopeful, but I also can't call it hopeless. The trauma (generational and personal) of slavery is expressed in so many ways - from the "tree" on Sethe's back to the two words "it rained".
This was my first Morrison novel, and two things surprised me. First, I did not anticipate the book to be so discursive. This is not a bad thing. Characters flit back and forth between different time periods in their heads as PTSD, and several times it's an errant action or phrase that sets them off. (After writing that, a friend told me that Morrison coined the word "rememory" to describe this phenomenon; it's also used in the book.) Second, Morrison has such an incredible economy of phrase where one-off references end up having extreme impact, like when I realized Stamp Paid was castrated or what Baby Suggs truly meant when she said "lay down your sword and shield", which was otherwise implied to mean "open your heart to love".
"We got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow."
Judge a Book By Its Cover (HM): Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

• Appeal: 4.25
• Thinkability: 4
• Weird shit?
• Reading location: Various coffee shops
• Date published: 1972
• Page count: 165
• Tags: Magical realism, semiotics, Italian literature, combinatorics, parables
• Content warnings: Grief, suicide, ableism
• Other bingo squares: Set in a Small Town (HM), but only if you're a little scamp.

I knew nothing about Invisible Cities other than Italo Calvino was strongly recommended to me. This is a fantastic exploration(!) of semiotics, meaning, and combinatorics through literature. Over 55 short prose vignettes, Marco Polo speaks with Kublai Khan about fantastic cities with a focus on a particular quirk or interpretation of that city. Each city is categorized in one of several themes (Thin Cities, Cities & Desire, Cities & The Sky, etc.), some of which are more steeped in the semiotic discussion, others are allegorical, and still others are simply surreal.
My copy is less than 170 pages, but I easily read 300+ over two weeks given I was so enchanted by each of Calvino's parables. I would read one of the nine sections, pause, and then go back two sections to reread and rethink. This little book is inspiring not only for fantastic places but as a way to simply view your city (whatever that might mean) in new contexts.
My only caveat is that Calvino uses a similar theme of "two cities existing at once" for probably ten of the passages. The book is so strongly organized by patterns and combinations that I found this to be almost a frustrating red-herring in it not really amounting to anything other than a conceipt that Calvino must have liked. Kinda wish he just had a category called "Twin Cities".
As I read, I kept thinking about my time in the Sierra Nevada and similar interpretations with mountains. Like, one of Calvino's stories is about how the archetype you have of a profession in a city makes you collapse any memories of people doing that skill into the single person (i.e. I saw ten stonemasons but I only remember one), kind of like a twisted platonic ideal. It made me think of seeing quaking aspen in the northern Sierra; I can't tell you about one particular aspen, but instead all the ones I've walked past coalesce in my mind as the memory of aspen.
Set in a Small Town (HM): Subdivision by J. Robert Lennon

• Appeal: 3
• Thinkability: 1
• Weird shit? Not as weird as it initially came off.
• Reading location: Climbing trip to Devils Tower (WY)
• Date published: 2021
• Page count: 230
• Tags: Magical realism, dreams, surreal, mundane horror, beige prose
• Content warnings: Domestic abuse, pregnancy, car accident, death, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, medical trauma
• Other bingo squares: Self-Published/Indie

"Set in a Small Town" really gets around on this bingo card. Most of my books so far are set in small towns!
Spoiler free summary: An unnamed woman arrives at a subdivision simply called the Subdivision. She has some memory loss, and she is asked by the owners of her guesthouse to help put together a large puzzle. Along the way she encounters fantastic persons and situations, including a shapeshifting creature called the bakemono that attempts to seduce her with undercurrents of emotional abuse, a child who attends a birthday party where the kids are described as "belonging to the neighborhood", and a courthouse that "analyzes phenomena" under constant threat of a windstorm. She has a personal assistant/AI named Cylvia that seems to be near-omniscient while transforming into different shapes. The story follows her interactions with this Kafka-esque town and cast of characters before culminating in the central mystery: why did she arrive at the Subdivision at all?
Spoilerrific discussion: Put simply, Subdivision would have struck me harder if I hadn't seen this trick pulled in lots of other media. I got that this was a dying dream before the halfway point. Not a flex on my behalf, simply that the puzzle pieces (hehehe) were all there early on. It's one of those books that simultaneously is a little obvious and a little cryptic, and the cryptic parts (such as the birthday party) become more annoying than poignant as they seem to be there to confuse our narrator and just be weird. I love surreality, but if you go to great strides to make things have a symbol, they could be more consistently symbolic. It felt disjointed in how "challenging" it wanted to be - and overly precious when it tried to be heartfelt.
Yet I wanted to keep reading because I wanted to see if Lennon stuck the landing - and he did. Parts like the unnamed narrator being pregnant, the probability well at the house being what the family could have had in a happier life, her forgetting her own name due to the head trauma of the accident, and Cylvia being her unborn child who does survive the accident were nice little "aha!" moments.
Five Short Stories (HM): Bliss Montage by Ling Ma

• Appeal: 3.75
• Thinkability: 2
• Weird shit? Subtly so.
• Reading location: Treadmill
• Date published: 2022
• Page count: 228
• Tags: Magical realism, surreal, Millennial, immigrant experience in the USA
• Content warnings: Emotional abuse, child abuse, drug abuse, parent death
• Other bingo squares: Author of Color, Multi-POV (different perspectives in a single short story)

Short stories are an art, and those who wield them well are masters. Bliss Montage is Ling Ma's second published work and first set of short stories, though some of them were published elsewhere beforehand. I like to describe Ling Ma as a prototypical "Millennial" author, in that I do not believe these stories could be written by someone who wasn't an adolescent during the 1990s boom-era and then experienced her formative years during 9/11 and the 2008 Great Recession. There's a wry exhaustion to the way she writes that just speaks to my experience as well (though I'm over a decade younger than her).
Bliss Montage is on the cusp of speculative fiction in that the fantastic aspects are window dressing for Ling Ma's exploration of relationships and the American immigrant experience. The first (and best) story features a woman who lives in a large mansion with her husband, kids, and every single ex-boyfriend - including flings and one-night stands. It's a fascinating portrayal of how the tendrils of emotional abuse sink into one's psyche, with the follow-up story basically being the "real life" version.
Other stories are less successful... but like I said with Porter, I'll buy everything she releases.
Reference Materials (HM): The Book of Imaginary Beings by Jorge Luis Borges

• Appeal: 3.5
• Thinkability: 4
• Weird shit? Subtly so.
• Reading location: Treadmill
• Date published: 1957
• Page count: 236
• Tags: Magical realism, bestiary,
• Content warnings: Violence
• Other bingo squares: Entitled Animals

Hey look, a book that's only reference materials! And even then, there are plenty of translator's notes and introductory text to make this HM even without the content. And it's Borges??
The Book of Imaginary Beings is a bestiary of mythical beings by Argentinian philosophemagical realism author Jorge Luis Borges in collaboration with Margarita Guerrero. Over 110 entries on various creatures that have haunted and thrilled imaginations, with a focus on western mythologies.
This is a book about the mind's creation of imaginary beings, not the beings themselves. You're not reading this to learn about the lifecycle of the Chinese Dragon, but instead the history of their references and subtle differences between depictions. Borges isn't as interested in directly stating what the creatures are as much as exploring the epistemology about what makes imaginary creatures interesting to us. It's classic Borgesian metafiction in that way!
The bestiary describes beasts as much as it describes their philosophical and moral progeny with the economy of phrase that typifies Borges' short fiction. Most entries are just a couple paragraphs long, and any entry longer than 2 pages is a surprise. Some might find it confusing that he has a single paragraph on elves or his dismissal of the chimera, but it's about the "why" more than the "what" for Borges' take on the fantastic. If there's a downside, it's that Borges is probably too coy for his own good for about one-third of the entries.
Nonfiction and Non-Spec Fic:

• Scott Lankford - Tahoe Beneath the Surface (2010). Historical essays on places and events tied to Lake Tahoe, from Mark Twain to JFK's presidency. Decent local book overall. (Appeal: 3.25, Thinkability: 1)
• László Krasznahorkai - Sátántangó (1985). Hungarian historical fiction in twelve chapters, with each chapter a single unbroken paragraph. Top five book I've ever read. Absolutely loved it; the pub scene felt like I could see every single raindrop. (Appeal: 5, Thinkability: 4)
• Mark Z. Danielewski - House of Leaves (2000). Semi-revisit for me since I got through most of it in 2015. I still think Johnny is annoying, though I "get it" more now. Part of my "sub zeitgeist" bingo card, if I get to it. (Appeal: 4, Thinkability: 3)
• Bruce Tremper - Staying Alive in Avalanche Terrain (2001, 4th edition). The field classic for a reason. (Appeal: 4.5, Thinkability: 5)
• Lynda V. Mapes - Witness Tree (2017). A woman lives in Harvard Forest for a year, centering her life around a single red oak. Unfortunately, it doesn't really feature the tree; it's more about the natural history of New England. (Appeal: 2.5; Thinkability: 1)

I work in security in a small town in Spain. I refused entry to a regular local because he was warned repeatedly about doing drugs in the bathroom.
He also behaves like a total thug. He got aggressive with my colleague and started throwing hands.
This led to him being forcibly put on the street. To which his response was to pick up a bottle.
Me having had enough of plastic gangsters in the area said fine let's box.
So I went one on one with him and long story short I knocked him down several times. One of his friends grabbed my arm and he sucker punched me in the mouth and I cracked him back and side kicked him in the ribs.
Afterwards the police were called and they asked him if he wanted to prosecute me. To which he said no and proceeded to shout loudly in front of the police to ask if wanted a knife fight.
Natrually I ignored.
Fast forward a couple of says, the Guardia civil inform me that I'm being prosecuted by him and that I'll have to attend court at some point.
That's not the bit that bothers me or needs me to vent. Yes he wanted to fight he got a fight then he cried about it to the police. It's annoying but ok, I had a fight I need to go to court.. fine.
But why is everyone else acting like. "Oh that's so bad, you could have de escelated it" or "why didn't you just try talking to him"
Or " why you so angry, you could have avoided it."
I'm down for de escalation 99.9% of the time and using a brain or deciding to walk away.
But once someone has taken the choice of picking up weapons and throwing punches.. I'm supposed to turn into a life coach????
The bit that requires me to vent here is the mentality of others saying that we should excuse the violent decisions of others and just take it!!
Am I going mad? Or does anyone feel like they are being castrated in real time?
This applies to alot of things not just this scenario...
Also... Why do people keep acting like they are in a movie.. bro was genuinely shocked when he got slapped about.. like wait you can't do that, stand still and let me hit you!
What even is this world anymore??

Date of murder: 5/20/2024
Location: Richland Center, WI, USA
I am the steer owner. I was not present. I live in California.
Livestock Supervisor: Abby
Shippers present:
Brogan, livestock semi driver. Nevin, gooseneck driver.
Neighbor present: Sam
Not present: John, trucking broker.
On Sunday, 5/19/2024, John went to my old farm in Richland Center. He familiarized himself with the goats, the giant steer, the premises, and the equipment. I talked to John after his visit. He confirmed that Brogan would haul the goats, and that Hurricane was too big for Brogan’s equipment.
I hired Brogan, driving for Mihm Brothers Trucking, Fort Atkinson, Iowa, through John, to haul approximately 150 goats from Richland Center, to California, departing Monday 5/20/24, for arrival in CA on 5/21/2024
Brogan’s equipment: semi with double-deck livestock trailer.
I hired Nevin to haul one giant pet steer, “Hurricane,” born 1/2012, from my old farm, to Sam’s farm a few miles away. Nevon’s equipment: 1-ton Chevy with 30’ gooseneck livestock trailer.
Abby was my supervisor.
Sam Ewers was there as a “friend.”
Events Leading Up To The Murder:
Starting at about 8:15 AM, Abby and Dave loaded 150 goats. This took a few hours and was much more challenging than anyone had expected. The goats were frightened of the semi, it was raining, everything was muddy, and three goats escaped.
At 10:39 AM local Wisconsin time, Abby called me. She said Brogan had room for Hurricane on his semi, that he needed the weight because the 150 goats were very light, and he had a plan to safely get Hurricane on the semi. I emphasized the need for Hurricane to not be harmed, and that he should only be loaded if it was absolutely safe. Abby said she did not understand how Brogan would load Hurricane, but that Brogan assured her that it would be fine. Abby told me that Sam agreed with Brogan, and that Nevin would assist. I emphasized that I only wanted to best for Hurricane.
At 11:33 AM local Wisconsin time, Abby called me to tell me what happened. Instead of using the large rear door, the drivers and Sam decided to force Hurricane through the tiny side-door, also known as the clean-out door. They had ignored Abby when she told them to stop.
Abby was crying when she told me what happened.
Hurricane loaded easily into Nevin’s gooseneck trailer.
Nevin backed his gooseneck trailer up to Brogan’s side door, aka the cleanout door.
Brogan handed Nevin an electric cattle prod, “hotshot,” and told Nevin to shock Hurricane until he got through the door. Abby did not know what was happening until it was too late.
Hurricane had never felt an electric cattle prod.
Hurricane was quickly and catastrophically stuck in the door. The door was too short and too narrow. Hurricane got most of his body through the door, but did not fit. His hips were wedged in the narrow doorway. They kept shocking him, torturing him to get him to move forward. Hurricane collapsed, 2/3 of his body in the semi, 1/3 of his body in the gooseneck. Abby told them to just stop. The "men" said they knew what they were doing and Abby should just leave them alone.
Brogan got into his semi and drove it forward, which immediately broke Hurricane’s pelvis.
Nevin pulled his gooseneck forward, leaving 2/3 of Hurricane in the semi, 1/3 out. Hurricane was completely immobilized and in excruciating pain.
Abby could not watch the rest. She called me to tell me what had happened. She told me that she tried to get them to stop, that it was obvious that Hurricane would not fit, and they ignored her. They used a chain and straps to yank Hurricane out of the semi. Then they left him on his back in the rain and just... left. Abby stayed by him until the vet arrived, and she stayed by him until the end.
At 12:33 PM I received a call from Brogan. He gave me his version of events and he accepted responsibility for the murder.
During the rest of the day I talked extensively with Abby, John, Nevin, and Sam. This account is based on my understanding of their communications with me. Nevin and Sam admitted that they ignored Abby, and decided to force Hurricane through the tiny door. Sam admitted that he, as the oldest and most experienced farmer there, was the driving force. Brogan, as the semi driver, admitted that he should not have allowed the attempt to force Hurricane through the tiny door. Nevin admitted that he thought it might work, and that he used the electric cattle prod on Hurricane repeatedly. In the last few days I have exchanged numerous texts with Brogan and Nevin. Both accepted responsibility.
Nevin texted me, "I feel so discouraged from what happened on Monday. Why can't I stand on my own 2 feet? And make wise choices. Is the body taken care of? Or is it waiting on me? I'm so sorry." then, Wednesday, "I struggled through the mistakes I have made in the past, but I'm not sure I can handle this one. Without medical help. pleas please pray for me."
From Brogan, when I told him I need my steer replaced with the same kind- a mature, 6'6" gentle giant, tame to me, black and white with a scared-over broken horn, "ok."
About Hurricane, The Gentle Giant:
I bought Hurricane as a weaned bottle calf in the spring of 2012. He was bright and energetic like a normal Holstein calf. Dr. Mike castrated him for me. In October 2012, I found him “down,” in a pasture about ¼ mile from my barn. He had been injured, and his back legs would not work. Dr. Mike said that he had feeling, but some kind of injury. I put Hurricane on a bed of straw and wood shavings, and for the next six weeks, I cared for him at least three times every day. He had daily antibiotics, pain killers, and steroids. After six weeks of being down, one day he managed to stand. He was so weak! And skinny! And with such a will to live!
Everyone in my family agreed: he needed a “pardon.” He would not be sold for meat.
While he was down, unable to rise, a hurricane devastated the gulf coast. Remnants of the storm went up the Mississippi. The storm was so strong that we had torrential rain in Wisconsin. So we named him “Hurricane.”
It took several more months for Hurricane to regain his strength. He started to grow, but slowly. He weighed less than 200 pounds on his birthday. When he was two years old, he weighed less than 300 pounds.
And then he started to grow.
And grow.
And grow.
He was still tame, still my buddy, but huge!
We developed a routine, where, at the end of my day, I would enjoy a beer and a cigar or a cigarette with Hurricane. He was a great listener. We decided to sell the farm in Wisconsin and retire to sunny California. We would live out our days and never experience another Wisconsin winter.
In many ways, you could say that Hurricane was my emotional support animal.
It took me a few weeks to get the California farm ready for Hurricane, so his shipment was delayed. The plan, until yesterday morning, was for Hurricane to spend a few weeks at Sam's farm, pending pickup either by myself, with my gooseneck stock trailer, or the company that transported my Thoroughbred stallion.
Sam, Nevin, and John knew the Hurricane story. I had not talked to Brogan about it, and that did not matter, because Brogan’s job was to ship goats.
Hurricane was unique. There are no other steers like him. He was perfectly tame to me. He could be shy around some strangers, and I tended to respect his opinion. He was so, so big! He was famous around Richland County, and I made him famous with my friends and just about everyone I met. My new neighbors were looking forward to meeting him.
How do you value a unique, giant? He was trained to follow my anywhere. He was trained to allow me to touch him anywhere, to let me lean on him. How do you replace him? I would have to buy a Holstein bottle calf and then confine him under traumatic circumstances so that we develop a unique bond, and then feed him for five years until he got a giant stature… but you won’t know if a Holstein steer will actually become a giant. 6’6” is awful tall! And 2500 pounds is huge! I've had plenty of bottle calves that grew up to be mean, shy, nasty, dangerous. I've had them top out at 5', 5'6"... they don't always get to be 6'6"!
Total steer replacement value: $248,175.
I posted this yesterday afternoon but didn't realize that posting public phone numbers scares people. The phone numbers I posted are available to the general public on websites and in the phone book, but people sure can over-react. These assholes tortured and killed my steer, and then internet warriors got butt-hurt because I posted texts that included phone numbers.

Thank you u/julianSkies for all your help. Thank you u/SpacePaladin15 as always!
I am so sorry this one took so long… I'm getting a lot of night shifts at my work and so when I get home I tend to be quite tired. Plus I don't know why but this one just was tough to push me through but I finally got it done. As always thank you for being patient and following the story.
Memory transcription
Subject Name: Slans.
Species: Venlil.
Job: Privateer intelligence and navigation officer.
Location upon transcript: Aboard Privateer flagship S.S.S Retribution.
Date [standardized human time]: March 6th, 2137.
It's completely lab grown in origin… nothing died to make it. So why does its presence feel wrong?
At the center of my cabin stands the venlil shaped mannequin. Upon its unmoving form rests the new great coat made just for me. Sunspeck fur comprises the majority of its exterior. The short white fur is undeniably beautiful, but it's been masterfully accented by using pitch black voidpin fur along the coat’s hem and lapel. The buttons consist of shadestalker fangs in a toggle closure configuration. The shoulder epaulets, keeping in line with the rest of the outfit, are no less unique. Both of them having been carved from rocktumbler antlers, as a final touch dangling from them are even more shadestalker teeth.
It's a beautiful, if ghastly, piece of fashion… one that I must don for the evening. With slow drawn out steps I make my way over to the mannequin, eventually standing directly before it. With slightly shaky paws, I reach forth and grip it by the collar. It's a bit heavier than my normal wool one, but that's to be expected.
Biting the bullet I swing the garment around and on to my shoulders. With a sigh I slip my upper limbs down the sleeves and button it up. Once that is done I look into the mirror and appraise my new look. My hat today is also sporting a variety of feathers from different skalgan birds. With a final shudder I suppress the negative thoughts.
It's all artificial… nothing died for any of it.
Buckling the belt I check that my sword and 1871 Colt are still securely attached to it before finally leaving. Just as I do so I hear the intercom announce that…
“Dominion shuttle on final approach to hangar Bay, ETA 16 minutes.”
<<<[About 15 minutes of standard traveling later]>>>
Arriving just outside the hangar, I met up with the other officers and security entourage. Everyone is quietly awaiting the repressurization procedure to finish. Unlike my predominantly fur based attire, the regalia worn by my human counterparts harkens back to one of the great empires of their ancient times. One whose imagery and symbols Morgan hopes will strike a chord with the Dominion Representatives.
For the humans present, they are all sporting a version or another of lorica segmentata. Each one's steel plates having been polished to a near mirror finish. Underneath it they are all wearing cloth tunics, the guards have red while officers are purple. On top of each guard's galea they wear the skin of a native Earth predator called a Wolf. Its front legs are loosely tied around their neck to keep it from falling off…
As for the human officers, aside from the purple tunics they are also heavily adorned with ornate decoration. Given Morgan's rank his outfit is naturally the most decorated of them all, with intricate geometric patterns and shapes having been painstakingly etched into steel. At the center of his helmet above the opening for his face sits a mini golden eagle with its wings outstretched. Just behind the bird of prey is a red plume going down the back side of his headgear.
With a soft smile Morgan speaks.
“Well then… seems like everyone's here. Remember, a lot of lives are at stake. Be firm and strong but not confrontational if you can help it. But above all do not show anything that could be misconstrued by our guests as weakness.”
With that said he turns to face the door as the light above flashes green signaling that repressurization of the bay has finished. As us officers stay behind Morgan, the guards march out and take up positions on one side of the path leading to the Dominion shuttle.
Once they're in place Morgan begins walking forward and we follow just behind him. The recycled air grows even tenser with every step forward. No one dares defile the quiet hangar with their voice… Thus the only sounds are the tapping of our boots, clinking of armor, breathing and the omnipresent hum of the ship.
Just as we make it to the halfway point and stop, the Dominion shuttle opens and its ramp comes down. Its clanking against the hangar deck being the first new noise in what feels like eternity.
As my eyes move up they're greeted with the sight of about a dozen Dominion guards coming down. The beasts take up positions directly opposite of our guards on the path from the shuttle to the interior doors.
I am slightly uneasy as I feel the slight air movement created by these monsters moving by so close. But I shove down that uneasiness, and continue projecting my best neutral face.
Once the Dominion's security is in position, their leadership begins coming down the ramp. Of course Rapax is leading them, just like Morgan led us.
The Dominion armor is interesting and also varies based upon the wearer's rank and standing. The underlying outfit each of them wears appears to be numerous small metal plates roughly [2 inches wide by 3 inches Long]. They are attached to a leather cuirass, the plates overlapping one another similar to scales. Around the neck the plates bend upwards to form a protective scaled metal collar. The metal of their armor has a matte finish and so isn't reflective like ours.
Rapax himself is sporting a cape made from thousands of… presumably sentient in origin… red feathers.
Of course like us their officers have more decorations than the guards but that's just par for the course with things like this. Also just like us, be it a guard or an officer they all carry side arms and decorative swords on their hips.
The Dominion party stops at the bottom of the ramp a good [20 feet] from us. Without a word Rapax begins walking forward and Morgan does the same moving towards him. The duo eventually stopping just shy of [5 feet] apart.
They both then slightly bow their heads to each other. Just enough to show respect as equals in both being predators and fleet commanders. But not enough to be misconstrued as submission by either party. Then locking eyes Rapax puts his claw out, without hesitation Morgan reciprocates the gesture. They both grip each other's forearm and shake.
“Welcome to the Retribution, Rapax.”
Morgan says with appropriate subdued enthusiasm. The monster smiles showing off his sharp teeth.
“Thank you for extending this invitation, I apologize if I was a bit abrasive in our first meeting. You are the first other sentient life we have met… given we're a solitary species, our diplomacy skills have sadly been left lacking due to an absence of opportunities to practice. To finally have a friend amongst the stars is a true blessing of the prophet.”
“Thank you for the compliment and I understand, May glory forever be upon his name and lineage. Now after such a long trip you and your men must be famished shall I show you to the dining area?”
“By all means lead the way… we are aboard your ship after all.”
With that the two commanders begin walking together, the men following behind the respective leaders. I can see a few of the Dominion officers eyeing me with contempt but as long as things remain civil I should be okay.
However there's one person who they seem to eye with even more disdain than I… Ven. Currently wearing his human inspired attire with only the addition of minor armor pieces. My friend isn't paying any attention to the nasty looks.
As our party makes its way through the pre-cleared halls, Morgan and Rapax attempt small talk.
“So… Rapax, if you don't mind me being so bold to ask. How long have you been Commander of the 731st raiders?”
Even though I can't see the gray's face I can't help but feel slight dread emanating from him. On the flip side I can hear Ven quietly Snicker to himself right beside me.
“About… [four and a half years] give or take. I took the position from my predecessor. He was getting older and more cowardly so I challenged him to a duel. Suffice it to say I won and took over the raiders. A few of the scars I have are badges of honor from that struggle.”
“Fascinating…”
Morgan replies with clearly taking in what the guy just said. Seeing an opportunity, Rapax takes over the conversation.
“So… Morgan. How long have you been leading your Armada?”
The human chuckles to himself before replying with.
“Well… about 4 or 5 months now give or take a few weeks or days. Our endeavor was sanctioned by the US government just after the attack on Earth.”
Stopping for a moment Morgan turns to face the gray in his eyes.
“Let me just say that… no matter what the future holds. A good chunk of humans will always view the arxur in a positive light for the aid your people rendered that dark day.”
As we begin to move once more the gray’s facial features shift to what I only can describe as a rare look of genuine sympathy from a Dominion gray, Rapax then says.
“I'm sorry we didn't find y'all first and shield you from their genocidal antics. I know your species tried hard to make peace with the leaf licker Federation. I get why you did it, given you've got a claw in both worlds. But it was a foolish, if idealistic, endeavor doomed from the start… they will only ever see you as a predator in the same vein as us no matter how many leaves you consume.
If I may be so bold as to state the obvious, you can't reason with food. It's best to stick with sentient folk rather than chase a dream of acceptance by prey who will never do so… despite your leaf licker aspects, we accept you as fellow predators.”
Just as Rapax finishes his rant we have reached Morgan’s study, just outside of which is a security checkpoint. Everyone is allowed to keep their ceremonial swords and daggers, but firearms will not be allowed within the study during this meal. Luckily there are no problems as everyone relinquishes their guns without any protests. The guards of both groups remain in the hallway ready to intervene if something happens. Inside the study will only be the officers and a pawfull of stewards.
Morgan as usual takes his seat at one end of the table. The grays’ Commander occupies a chair on the other end allowing the two to look directly down the table at each other. The privateers sit together on the right side of the table, the other side is taken by the grays. It's all going pretty well, however, one of them who is supposed to sit directly across from Ven refuses to do so. With anger in his eyes he looks towards his Commander.
“Am I really expected to sit down and eat right across from a traitor?”
Rapax doesn't even look up from the menu as he addresses his subordinate.
“You will sit and eat just like any other meal if you know what's good for you.”
“When this filth absconded with the 54th supply fleet it left hundreds of posts and ships under supplied. Thousands starved to death before supply lines could be reestablished!”
Getting a bit worked up the officer pounds his balled up clawed fist on the table. Some of the human officers reach for their blades. But Morgan signals for them to stay where they are.
Meanwhile Rapax puts down the menu and stands up. Even this doesn't stop the tantrum as they seem completely oblivious to things happening around them.
“He literally has a half billion script bounty on his head for the damage he caused. We're supposed to eat with him instead of taking them in!?”
The almost yelling Dominion officer then looks directly at Ven, whose face betrays nothing. The other grays at the table aren't even reacting to his outburst as their commander walks over to him.
“Your father got off lucky dying in custody… your brother is no better than you. A coward who escaped execution by shamefully accepting castration alongside a [10 year] prison sentence in a penal colony. You…”
The officer is cut off when Rapax wraps his claws around their throat. With speed that's just a blur to my eyes, he starts slamming the guys snout into the table. I can feel the vibrations from each impact from halfway down, cutlery and dishes upon the table shutter with each impact. I also hear that crunch of scales and bones with each hit.
He does it five times… as blood runs down the man's snout and paints his ceremonial armor red. Rapax looks into his eyes and simply asks.
“Will there be any more of that… or have you learned your lesson?”
Whimpering, the officer spits out a couple of teeth. His snout is crooked and really badly messed up.
“I've learned my lesson sir…”
“You better have… because if you continue to embarrass me I will have to give you an actual punishment when we get back. Now sit down and enjoy the meal our host has so graciously provided.”
Rapax then smiles at the officer, without another word he lets go with the guy's neck and walks back to his seat at the far end of the table. There are some hushed chatting on both sides of the table before Rapax speaks up once again.
“Sorry about that… sometimes subordinates just don't know when to listen. Then again, I bet I don't have to tell you that?”
Morgan forces a smile and tries to play along.
“Nope… you certainly don't.”
Sneaking a glance at the formerly confrontational officer. I see he has a couple of napkins and is trying to stop the bleeding from his nostrils. Tears are at the corners of his eyes but he's clearly fighting to not cry and avoid potential further punishment. At the same time a couple of privateer stewards have brought some towels over. They are trying to clean the blood from the table surface before it soaks in.
As everyone continues to look at their menus talking slowly begins to fill the room. I quietly pull out my data pad under the table and type out a quick message.
How are you doing?
I send it to Ven. Who quickly replies with…
I'm fine.
Not believing it, I shoot him another message.
Given what that guy said happened to your family… I don't quite believe you're fully fine. Sorry…
The reply takes a moment but does come.
I had an inkling not long after I left that a famine could potentially happen… I was hoping that it wouldn't but alas my math was not wrong. I feel awful that my father and brother paid for my actions. I have been worried about them ever since I defected, not knowing if the Dominion would or had punished them for my sins. At least now I know what definitively happened because of me… I can mourn when this is all over. For now I just have to live with it like always... But thanks for asking…
Looking up I sigh and see the clock saying it's only been about [15 minutes] since the Dominion party arrived.
This is going to be a long fucking night…
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There's a wind blowing from the Great city of Inflation It's coming to knock your houses down Built of straw and twigs and Zinc and petroleum Hammered down Like a cardboard box sitting in the rain
Some of the livestock hunkered down With stones and mortar That were cheap before Even clay would stand a better chance Than this
There's a story that's told when We are young About a big bad wolf who will eat us up For lunch
But the farmer said there's too many wolves We're gonna lock you up for good Because you're tasty and can't fend for yourself So they drove us into little barns Stalls and pens Nothing more than Pennies on the dollar Have your credit card
There is no money There isn't any money You are just collateral for Their loans And the farmers are concerned with The farmers on the east and west Because they have big rocks to throw Across the creek
There's lithium and heavy metals Batteries for wagons because horses Shit too much And they can't wipe their own ass The horses get sick and need Constant care And they sell us convinience Until we don't care There's nothing wrong with more time To have hobbies
So we work ourselves to death It's a hustle or a second job just to Afford rent They can't castrate or spay their dogs So the next best thing is To cut us off Make it so unappealing to have kids
There's no church in school But there's propaganda bull Woven in the fabric of education everywhere Kids will tow the line And fall behind There's no chance for them to scale The wire fence
They take the kids Away from their family Because the parents have to work So the child won't go to to bed Hungry There's not much to be done But always more
So drug yourself up They'll give you the pills The hormone shit is off the rails You are just a fat fucking chicken leg The feed for the animals is Feed for you And you wonder why You're so confused Dehumanized to the point of apathy
Where is the fucking line Redrawn in sand The banks will reimburse you up to Something-grand If we make that a dollar And I have two Then the banks still win And I still lose If one is a house Then I lose all chance of posterity
If I live to work And live to eat Then their pocket's lined And I'm on the street And you wonder why I can't listen to The news again
They gave you time But took away the purpose You get your life But lose the right to live it Euthanasia is not off the table anymore Suicide is not a human right But with insurance they'll just Pull the trigger for you
And if there's no will to live There's a will to distract There's a lonliness We can fill all that Don't you worry You won't have to think You won't have to feel You won't have to speak You won't have to move You won't have to breathe You won't have to die You won't have to live Anymore

This happened this morning. I wasn't there. I had hired an experienced woman to oversee the loading in rural Wisconsin. My goats and my pet steer were to be moved from my old farm to my new property.
Yesterday, the trucking supervisor went to the farm. He said the steer was too big to fit into the semi side door, and might not even fit through the back door. So I hired a gooseneck cattle trailer guy to haul the steer.
This is how the story was told to me. I have it from three people: both shippers, and my supervisor.
I had hired two livestock trucks. One has a semi (tractor and 50' stock trailer). The other has a one-ton truck and a 30' gooseneck trailer.
150 goats were loaded into the semi trailer.
One giant, 12 year old, pet steer was loaded into the 30' trailer. Steer was 6'6" tall and weighed 2500 pounds. A gentle giant. My buddy.
I had been told by the head shipper that the steer would not fit through the semi side door. The farm where they were loaded did not have a loading ramp, which meant the steer could not be loaded through the back door. The side door is relatively low. The back door is more than 4' off the ground. The side door is fine for goats and sheep and pigs and calves, but not large bovines.
After all the goats were loaded on the semi, and the steer was loaded in the 30' trailer, the two drivers decided that they would put the steer in the semi.
My steer was safely loaded in the gooseneck. He would have travelled just fine that way. I did not mind paying both drivers to move my animals.
My supervisor objected to putting the steer in the semi trailer, but the drivers insisted that they knew better, that the steer would fit through the semi's side door. She tried to get them to stop, but again, they said they knew better. They ignored her. They backed the gooseneck trailer up to the semi's side door and tried to push the steer through the door.
The steer got stuck.
Instead of letting the steer relax, and figure out his own way to back up, they decided to drive the semi backwards against the gooseneck to force the steer free.
The moment they moved the semi, they broke the steer's pelvis. Effectively killing the steer.
At this point, the steer is immobilized, and stuck, 3/4 of the way inside a semi.
The gooseneck driver pulled forward, leaving the steer's back legs hanging in the air. The steer collapsed onto his front legs. You can imagine his cries.
The two drivers used a loader-tractor and chains to yank the steer backwards out of the semi. With a broken pelvis, the steer could not stand.
This is when I got the first phone call that things had gone terribly wrong. My supervisor was crying.
I immediately called the sheriff and a local vet. The sheriff basically ignored me. The vet, who has been this steer's vet since 2012, went straight to the farm. There was no saving the steer, and the vet euthanized him while my supervisor cradled his head and told him that he was a good boy.
Now the shippers are both claiming it's not their fault.
I have no idea how to value my steer. He was my only steer. He was my buddy. My pet. Totally tame. At night, at the end of a long day, or the end of a good day, I liked to smoke a cigar and drink a beer and just hang out with my gentle giant.
Now he's dead.
Me? I want financial vengeance. Since the sheriff says it's civil, I have one question: how much was my pet steer worth?
Edit: I know how to calculate the local beef prices and multiply by how much he weighed. That's easy. But I wasn't taking him to slaughter. He wasn't for sale.
I was going to spend at least 3,000 to ship him from my old farm to my new property, 2,000 miles away. I already spent tons on shipping horses. It is $9,000 to ship the goats.
Also, terminology matters to farmers: a steer is a castrated bovine. A cow is an adult breeding female bovine. A bull is an intact adult make bovine.
This guy was a steer.
Steers like him, especially of his size and athletic ability, were called oxen.

It's clear there are heavy criticisms on Japanese society in the story:

• Acrosilky: yakuza's effect on the vulnerable people in society
• Jiji: cultist religion poisoning normal people's lives
• Zuma: black company and social apathy ruining a young family

While they're nothing new in manga, I don't particularly know instances of these heavy themes being made into anime. Especially when the story is clearly set in modern day Japan, not some fantasy world or made-up country. Anime is more widespread, and brings much more attention to a series (and its contents). And we all know when Dandadan anime come out, it'll be the anime of the year.
Why do I doubt Dandadan's anime possibility? Because Japan, much like the rest of Asia, always strictly control their country image. I learned that Japan has a specific "code of conduct" on how to portray their images in media to be cool and peace-loving (to divert away from their WW2 war crimes). Our series is unfiltered, no dress-up, portrays raw evil. Have you seen another anime that can do this?
On a side note, this censor ruined the Chinese webnovel scene. If you didn't know, most of the trashy Chinese manga you see these days are all adaptations of webnovels (from qidian.com, for example) (Yes, even that Maomao Apothecary which is so big recently is a well-known trope that's been done to dead in that scene decades ago). Many long running series were "castrated" by their "river crab" for the purpose of "harmonizing" the society. Nowadays, Chinese policemen are always clean-handed, their government is always patriotic, and their army soldiers are always respectable. Their army is feared everywhere and their economy is at the top of the world. Other countries can't be clearly named, they have to used similar sounding words or referred to by derogatory stereotypes. Harem is lost. Pornographic depiction is only inferred to instead of being clearly described (the concept is called "driving car" (kāichē) fyi). Reading Chinese webnovels nowadays always feel like reading a propaganda piece. Their doujinshi (tóngrén) always include a Chinese dude being isekai-ed (chuānyuè) there, to become top dog in that world (Chinese wizard dropping Voldermort with a stare, Chinese cultivator beating Gaunter O'dimm by fist, etc.) They do everything to maintain their superior image in media, so I'm skeptical Japan will let something like Dandadan be made into anime.

High Context
Expression takes many forms. In this book I have interpreted the word media in a broad sense and treated each form of expression that I have discussed as an independent medium. What, then, is the reason for the existence of multiple media like manga, anime, and film? Are these simply multiple forms for mediating the same reality? Not at all. Multiple media exist in order to support multiple fictions. We clearly perceive the form of a particular expression at the same time as we take in its content. The various media function as a kind of context, or a transparent and continuous totality that attaches meaning to content. In this instance the media themselves attain their own unique contextuality. For example, we are not in the least confused if a heroine who breaks down in tears in a television drama suddenly appears smiling in a commercial during the break. This is because it is very easy for us to shift instantaneously between the context of the drama and the commercial.
In an earlier work I referred to this idea of the unique contextuality of each medium as the “representation context,” in order to use it in a more limited sense. This is because it is possible to use the media form itself as a form of representation. As I explained in chapter 1, my use of the term context is based chiefly on a combination of the ideas of G. Bateson and E. T. Hall, which I Have also explained in greater detail elsewhere. For our purposes here, it is possible to understand the contexts contributing to expression as existing in hierarchical strata. In the case of manga, the first context level is that of the narrative that gives meaning to the characters’ actions. Above that is the genre of the narrative - the expressive context that determines whether it is to be taken seriously or as a gag. The representational context is one level above this. Or, if we order them from top down, the process by which we understand the content of a manga can be understood as a hierarchical series of stages beginning with the work’s representational context (manga), proceeding to its expressive context (genre), on to the narrative context, and finally to the comprehension of the content. Of course, in actual fact we have to admit that this sort of hierarchy is ultimately not valid. It goes without saying that content and context exist in a relationship based on simultaneous and mutual corroboration. Therefore I should emphasize that the notion of representation context serves only for convenience of description and is not in any sense an isolatable object.
It is possible, for example, to think of visual media in the order of their dependence on representational contextuality. Contextuality in this case refers to the degree to which the form of expression itself determines the context expressed. In order of descending contextuality, then, we have anime, manga, television, film, and photographs. The statement “I saw a photograph,” for example, conveys no meaning on its own. But the statement “I saw an anime” evokes a relatively concrete image in the listener’s mind. This is because the anime form restricts the range of content much more than does the photograph. In other words, anime has the highest level of contextuality and photography the lowest. Here I follow Hall in calling this the “high context” nature of anime. In general, we can say that more popular forms of expression tend to be higher context (as in the difference between classical and popular music). In visual media, the less information conveyed on the screen, the higher the context (this being the difference between television and film). Thus “cool” media (with low levels of detail) tend toward higher context.
Let us think more concretely about the high-context nature of anime and manga. We have already established that form and content are intricately connected in both. In the case of these expressive forms, we can easily makes guesses about the content and authorship even of works that we know nothing about. Even a single frame of the work will be enough to tell us the genre, the orientation of the content, and sometimes even the identity of the author. Moreover, the instantaneous switching between the “gag” and “serious” modes that would be unthinkable in film but forms part of the grammar of anime (its so-called yakusoku [conventions]) can be explained only on the basis of this high-context nature.
I think of high context as the sensibility that emerges when there is no sense of distance between the producer and the consumer of a given media form . Once we immerse ourselves in this high-context space, the meaning of all stimuli is grasped instantaneously. Inevitably, emotional codes are more easily transmitted here than verbal ones. This high-density transmissibility enables extremely high levels of concentration and absorption.
Intersubjective Mediation, or Media Theory
Based on what I have said above, we can identify the difference between film and anime or manga first in terms of contextuality.
Is this the place for us to move to a discussion of media theory? Is the desire for the beautiful fighting girls a sign of an internal transformation, an “implosion” and extension brought on by our contemporary media environment? In some senses this may be true, but in others it is certainly not.
The development of the media environment has in fact partly transformed the structure of our society. The development of the mass media industry itself is one manifestation of this transformation. Its influence on the economy and on education has, of course, been enormous. But to what extent does this transformation penetrate our inner worlds?
In clinical terms there has not been the slightest structural transformation. The structure of our neurotic subjectivity remains intact, just as Freud discovered it a century ago. If asked to prove this, most analysts would say that it is not their role to offer general proofs of anything. This, too, has not changed in a hundred years. Analysts can speak about the truth. But, or perhaps therefore, they cannot prove what is true. But, or perhaps therefore, they cannot prove what is true. To say that the structure of the subject is intact is to say that the structure of desire has been maintained. What needs to be emphasized here is that, in order for the structure of desire to be maintained, the object of desire must constantly change. If the object of our desire looks different than it did a hundred years ago, this is only a change in appearance that results from the continual maintenance that we as subjects have performed on the structure of that desire. Yes, the development of media has brought about an outward change, a superficial change in the objects of our desire.
From this we can derive at least two psychoanalytic hypotheses. If we use Lacan’s divisions, the stability of the subject denotes primarily the stability of the relationality between the Symbolic and the Real. Moreover, the internal transformation that Marshall McLuhan referred to as “implosion” can be considered mainly as having emerged as a change on the level of form in the Imaginary. Herein lies one of the thorniest difficulties of media theory. If voice and writing are themselves already forms of media, what exactly have modern media been able to add to the equation? The transformation of the subject in the Imaginary can always make it seem as if nothing has happened. As long as this is the case, the appearance of media theory will remain in the always-awaited future, and its conclusions will only continue to be deferred.
But perhaps there is something to be gained nonetheless by taking a detour here and considering the mutual operations of the media environment and the Imaginary. The development of media is clearly most striking in the visual realm. Already we are able in principle to see any sort of image whatsoever. If we so desire, we can also keep large numbers of images in our possession on a computer hard drive. There is no little significance in the fact that, as is so apparent in the case of the ever-increasing functionality of the personal computer, it has become very easy for us not just to preserve but to reproduce, manipulate, and transmit visual information about all sorts of experiences. Our imaginary has been dramatically expanded and accelerated by the media, or extended through “implosion.”
The diversification of methods of mediation has had a number of effects. One of these is the potential impoverishment of content and form. As was clear in the case of the beautiful fighting girls, the narratives in a diversified media environment are surprisingly similar to each other. As I pointed out in chapter 5, there are hundreds of examples of the beautiful fighting girl genre, but only thirteen story lines. From the 1990s on, no new story lines emerged, and new works were simply rearrangements of old ones. In this case at least, we can say that, while the diversification of media may contribute to the outward diversification of the works, we need to be aware of the possibility that it encourages the involution of the genre as a whole.
The more information is exchanged, the more redundancies there are and the more monotonous it becomes . For example, now that communication by personal computer has become the norm, people read and perhaps write enormous amounts of text every day . As a result, we see developing a common “computer style” of writing that is excellent for transmitting information but extremely limited in its capacity for description and definition. The impoverishment of visual information is most evident in the spread of anime-style images.
So what is this about? Increasing the level of detail or rendering movement more subtly in anime would take exponentially more money and time. But of course these luxuries are not always possible. On the other hand, too much abbreviation reduces the images to mere signs and makes for a very dreary representation (like the Saturday morning cartoons in the United States, where the only facial movements are blinking eyes and opening and closing mouths). The solution to the problem in Japan was, I believe, the introduction of the “big eyes and small mouth” that has become the tradition in Japanese anime.
The only parts of a manga that cannot be drawn by assistants are the face, and particularly the eyes, of the main characters. The author’s style appears in its most concentrated form in the facial expression and the eyes. The shortcut technique that resulted from this was to divide up the drawing of the background among assistants and make the characters like simple signs. This made possible the division of labor. Then, to avoid making the characters too much like mere signs, the facial expression, particularly the eyes, and the hands are drawn with great care. Among all the human organs, these occupy the position closest to the grammatical subject. Drawing the eyes and hands with special care has the same value as inserting text. Or, to put it the other way around, as long as the eyes and hands are carefully drawn, the rest can be abbreviated. Then one can add more facial expressions and make them more complex with manpu. This procedure enables the streamlining of the production process while also effectively communicating a wide variety of subtle emotional codes, making it easy for the viewer to identify emotionally. This is likely the origin of the too-large eyes and tiny mouth that Westerners so often point out in Japanese manga and anime. The anime image is the result of a sophisticated technique that enables a maximum of communication with a minimum of lines.
One noticeable trend in recent years, which may have to do mostly with keeping costs down, is that even as the images are drawn with greater and greater sophistication of design and coloration, they tend to move much less. The appearance of movement is skillfully produced by blurring the image, using flashes of lights, and bank sequences [19*. Bank sequences, or Bankukatto, are sequences of animation that can be used repeatedly, such as when a heroine is transforming or assuming a decisive pose.], but on closer inspection there is actually very little movement. The impact of “anime images” results from drawings so refined that this sort of thing no longer appears unnatural. Moreover, because there is no need for the drawings to be particularly intricate, they can be easily digitized, which makes it possible to transfer them into a computer game without altering them. This style of drawing, which is devoid of texture and consists only of fine lines and surfaces, helps smooth the flow of the so-called media mix as the images are transplanted from comics to anime to film, games, figurines, and toys.
The space of manga and anime has introduced easily shareable code systems into our Imaginary. This shareability, in turn, introduces elements of polymorphous perversion into that space. As a result, in the 1980s we first became aware of a very important fact, namely, that even the objects of our sexuality were shareable through the mediation of manga and anime. This realization led to the explosive growth of sexualized images in this space. Of course, the wholesome notion that manga and anime are basically for children exists even now. But even this constraint was converted into a useful technique. Depicting sex in a context that is for children almost inevitably produces undifferentiated, which to say polymorphously perverse, effects. <also, and a much darker scene between the protagonist Utena and the antagonist Akio in the episode The Prince Who Runs Through the Night, a friend pointed this out to me, in terms of what it’s depicting and how True it is. The disassociation and ambivalence that suffuses a traumatic event…>.
To create an autonomous object of desire within the fictional space of manga and anime: was this not the ultimate dream of the otaku? They sought to create fiction not as a stand-in for the “real” sexual object, but fiction that had no need to be secured by reality. For this to work, not even the most elaborately constructed fictional worlds would suffice. In order for fiction to attain its own autonomous reality, it would have to be desired for its own sake. Only then would reality bow down to fiction.
“Fiction” versus “Reality”
Earlier I referred rather casually to the contrast between “fiction” and “reality.” Of course, I do not accept this contrast naively. In fact, it is my belief that everyday reality is itself nothing more than a fiction (or fantasy) and that it is fundamentally impossible to draw a strict distinction between them. One reason that I raise the distinction nonetheless is in order to think once more about “Japan.” The art critic Sawaragi Noi has argued that Japan functions as what he calls a “bad place” and that any act of expression that attempts to escape from that place can only end up by making it worse and getting caught in a vicious circle. If such a place can be hypothesized, it is entirely possible that it could also subsume the place of manga and anime that I have been discussing here. For now I call that space “Japanese space” and contrast it with another unique representational space, which I call “Western space.”
As I pointed out earlier, in Japanese space the distinction between fiction and reality is not completely in effect. The distinction itself is in fact based on a Western idea . **In his theory of ideals Plato begins with a three-part distinction between the ideal, reality, and art, and places art at the bottom of the hierarchy because it is only an imitation of reality. In Plato’s system there is only a series of copies, with the copy of the ideal being reality and the copy of reality being art. Art must content itself with the lowly position of being a copy of a copy, an imitation of an imitation. Added to this is the influence of Judeo-Christian culture, which rejects idolatry. In “Western space,” even today “reality” is made to conform strictly to this ranking. In this context the notion of the “Reality of fiction” is already attenuated by being subjected to all sorts of constraints.
<"But I say to you that whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart" Matthew 5:28.>
For example, in American popular culture the most privileged fiction form is film. To be made into a film is the ultimate proof of the success of any narrative, whether it originates as a novel or a play. Of course, there are any number of reasons for this, but one is surely the belief that live-action film is the most accurate imitation or reproduction of reality. The impact of live-action film is supported by the belief that what it portrays is a faithful reproduction of reality. In my opinion there is absolutely no difference between the fictionality of live-action film and animated ones; it is just that anime is considered more fictional because it is under the constraint of having to be drawn by someone. For this reason animated films have almost no chance of winning the Academy Award for Best Picture and will always remain a genre inferior to film.
Thinking about censorship practices makes this even clearer. Censors in Japanese space seem for the most part uninterested in the symbolic value of what they are censoring. As long as the genitals are not portrayed explicitly, they will allow even the most depraved images to be shown. In Western space, however, images are censored according to their symbolic value. The censors are not interested in the trivial question of whether or not the genitals are visible, but reserve their strictest scrutiny for obscenity and perverse content. A recent example is the cover for Marilyn Manson’s CD Mechanical Animals. In the composite photograph, Manson appears nude as he glares at the viewer, but with the smooth groin and small breasts of a young girl. This level of perversion does not cause the least problem in Japan. But in the United States it create quite a scandal, with several large music stores refusing the carry the album. One could list any number of similar examples of this difference in the way Japanese and Americans judge an image obscene. Of course, even in Japan this sort of taboo on images still lingers when it comes to the Imperial family, but even that is losing the force it once had. In fact, that taboo has become so weak that it would shock even Okuzaki Kenzo. We are now living in an age when it is possible to publish a manga depicting a bomb thrown at Princess Masako during a parade, and the romance between Princess Kiko and Prince Akishino has been made into an anime. In other words, we still do not have the slightest idea what it is that defines depravity.
One conclusion that we can draw from this comparison is that visual expression in Western space is symbolically castrated, while Japanese space there is only imaginary castration, at most. For example, in Western space any image that symbolizes the penis is censored, while in Japanese space as long as you do not portray the penis itself anything goes. In this ironic sense I would suggest that Japanese media enjoy the great freedom of expression. The problem arises with this freedom itself.
In Japanese space, fiction itself is recognized as having its own autonomous reality. As I mentioned earlier, in Western space reality is always in the superior position, and the fictional space is not allowed to encroach on it. Various prohibitions are introduced to establish and maintain this superiority. It is not permitted for example, to produce images depicting sexual perversion. This is because fiction must not be more real (riaru) than reality. Fiction must be carefully castrated so that it does not become too appealing. This is what I mean by symbolic castration.
It is often remarked that the heroines of Western comics and anime are for the most part not very cute. They often include beautiful women and naked bodies, but rarely do they directly represent characters as sexually attractive. This cannot be explained simply as a result of a discrepancy in technical skill or differing notions of beauty. In the case of an actual Hollywood actress, Japanese and American fans are likely to speak in similar ways about her sexual attractiveness. But the situation is very different when it comes to heroines who appear as drawn images. Betty Boop, for example, may be drawn in a sexy outfit (with a garter belt!), but she is more like a parody of a sexy actress. Her fans are not immediately captivated by Betty’s sexual charms.
To continue with our discussion of Western space, we might remember that 1957 saw the creation of the so-called Comics Code Authority that formulated self-regulatory codes for comics in the United States and effectively spelled the end of the golden age of American comics. At the time juvenile delinquency had become a hot-button issue, and comics were singled out as a contributing factor. Among comic fans the formation of the CCA is referred to as the “Total Disaster.” The list of restrictions is as absurdly detailed as the rules at a Japanese high school. A few items that stand out on the list are

• “Divorce shall not be treated humorously nor represented as desirable.”
• “If crime is depicted it shall be as a sordid and unpleasant activity.”
• “In every instance good shall triumph over evil and the criminal punished [sic] for his misdeeds.”
• “Policemen, judges, government officials and respected institutions shall never be presented in such a way as to create disrespect for established authority.”

Under the category of “Marriage and Sex” the code states that “Nudity in any form is prohibited,” “Females shall be drawn realistically without exaggeration of any physical qualities,” “Illicit sex relations are neither to be hinted at nor portrayed,” “Seduction and rape shall never be shown or suggested,” and “Sex perversion or any inference to same is strictly forbidden.” Japanese manga as harmless as Sazae-san and Doraemon might run afoul of these rules. If regulations this strict were in force in Japan, virtually every manga magazine in print would have to be shut down.
It is thus quite possible to analyze the differences between Japan and the United States from the perspective of regulations. But what I want to stress here is that these rules show all the symptoms of an excessive defense reaction. No matter how popular comics had become by the 1950s, they could hardly compete with film. Nevertheless, they were much more severely regulated, to the point of destroying an entire genre of expression. Would it be too much to see in this an echo of what we might call the West’s iconographic taboo? The highly detailed and concrete restrictions on the depictions of sexuality are particularly remarkable. In these restrictions we can clearly see operating the obsessive idea that images themselves must not be sexually attractive.
Pornography must be considered as part of this discussion of the visual expression of sexuality. Pornography, needless to say, prizes images that are realistic and highly practical. In the decline of roman poruno and the rise of adult video, for example, one can see the pursuit of convenience and practicality. Pornographic images trend toward being more suitable for private consumption, reproduction and distribution gets easier, and pornographic expression gets more and more explicit. But in the Japanese space this leads to another contradiction: namely, the existence of “porno comics.” I want to stress once again that I am speaking of pornography in general here, not of “erotic expression.” It is perhaps only in Japan that pornography has taken the form of comic books and attained a certain popularity in doing so. Of course, there are porno comics that are meant to be used as masturbation aids in the West as well, but on a scale that does not even being to compare with that of Japan.
It seems absurd that such an enormous market would emerge for pornographic comics in a country where “hair nudes” are everywhere and people are somewhat bored even of adult videos. As I pointed out earlier, anime-style drawing has been hugely influential in this genre as well. In terms of their correspondence to everyday reality, there is no less realistic style of drawing. Despite this, however, these kinds of representation have been widely preferred as a medium for pornography. This would be entirely unimaginable in Europe or the United States, and the contrast points to a significant cultural difference.
Of course, there is a historical background to this as well. According to Timon Screech of the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies, the so-called shunga that were produced in such huge quantities in the Edo period were used by the masses as masturbation aids.
If that is in fact the case, we should also be able to find the roots of manga and anime in the Edo period, in a culture in which sexual desire was both stimulated and satisfied by drawn images. The issue here, needless to say, has something to do with anything like the symbolic expression of eros. The problem that we have arrived at instead is that of the immediacy of the drawn image.
As I have already pointed out, there are many fans of anime and manga in the West. But they are virtually unanimous in their hatred for so-called tentacle porn. They believe that sexuality does not belong in animation. What do Japanese otaku think about this? If they were shown this sort of pornographic work they would either give a wry smile or launch into a lengthy discussion of the history of adult anime using works like Cream Lemon (Kuriimu remon) and Legend of the Overfiend (Urotsukidoji) as examples. I cannot help but see in this difference another huge contrast between Japanese and Western otaku.
Leaving aside the question of whether it is possible to read in this the traces of taboos and repression, for now let us reiterate the minimal facts of which we can be certain. In the Western space of popular culture, it is exceedingly rare to find drawn iconic images of cute little girls and erotic nudes. In that space there is an unconscious censorship of drawn images, and their reality is kept within certain limits. The type of caricatures so conspicuous in Disney’s animations can even be considered as a technique of exaggeration for the purpose of repression. Constant and meticulous efforts are made in this space to prevent drawn images from attaining their own autonomous reality. In other words, drawn images are always kept in the position of being substitutes for objects that exist in reality.
In Japanese space, on the other hand, it is permissible for all sorts of sites to have their own autonomous reality (riariti). In other words, real (riaru ) fictions do not necessarily require the security of reality (genjitsu). There is absolutely no need in this space for fiction to imitate reality. Fiction is able to clear a space around itself for its own reality (riariti ku kan). The appeal of drawn images of little girls, for example, is a crucial element in the production of this reality (riariti). Here, fiction must establish a logic of sexuality all its own. This is because, in Japanese space, sexuality is the most important factor upholding reality (riariti). Of course, this is not true only of anime. Why else, for example, did the artistic traditions of the past put so much emphasis on the depiction of women? Why do rakugo raconteurs spend so much time extolling the pleasures of womanizing? And why do manga instruction courses always begin with how to draw a boy-girl couple? All of these things, which are particular to Japan, suggest that in this space it is sexuality that upholds the reality of fiction (kyoko no riariti).
So let us accept the autonomy of fiction and put forward the thesis that this autonomy is a necessary precondition for the beautiful fighting girl to emerge. If this is the case, we cannot in any sense see in them the reflection of “everyday reality.” It would not be permissible, for example, to infer from the popularity of beautiful fighting girls that girls are being empowered in the real world. It is the stubborn habit of seeing fiction as an imitation of reality, which is hard even for the Japanese to resist, that is at the root of this misunderstanding. The misunderstanding may be logically consistent, but that same logical consistency is also precisely what renders it invalid.
Getting back to our discussion of the image in Japanese space, I repeat that representations in this space do not undergo symbolic castration. There are some gestures toward imaginary castration with regard to sexual codes, but these are barely functional, and in the end they actually come closer to initiating a drive toward the disavowal of castration. The disavowal of castration is of course the initial condition for sexual perversion, which is why this space exhibits such an affinity for perverted objects. All sorts of images come to occupy various positions within this ecosystem of autonomous reality, and the space begins to overflow with meanings rendered through sexual and other codes. In this place, so highly charged with meaning because of this sheer verbosity of codes, context is privileged over any single disarticulated code. Meaning is transmitted instantaneously here, but its provenance can never be traced back to a single code.
This sort of high-context representational space can sometimes lose some of its reality effect if it is circulated too widely and understood too easily. How might it resist this attenuation of reality? One way is, of course, through sexuality. As I have argued several times already, sex is a necessary component for a narrative to seem real. The various struggles and manipulations surrounding sexuality (i.e., “romance”) are what introduce a core of reality into a narrative.
The widespread transgression of sexual limits in Japanese representational culture can also be interpreted in light of the high-context nature of Japanese space. High-context expressive space is, by nature, incapable of making full use of the effects of structural and formal reality. Instead it is the intensities that emerge at moments of shifting and switching from one context to another that are used to create reality effects. In the highest context spaces of anime and manga, most important are those gestures capable of transcending the context of heterosexual desire. The various characteristics of the beautiful fighting girls, which include hermaphorditism, transformation (i.e., accelerated maturation), and the strange mixture of proactivity (i.e., fighting ability) and passivity (i.e., cuteness), all help facilitate the emergence of this transcendental reality. That all manner of perversions should be evoked in their presence is only natural.
[To be continued... The Phallic Girl as a Form of Hysteria]

Most of my girl-friends have confided in me that they have been raped/sexual assaulted by a man at some point in their lives. Most women I have met are very critical of the idea that men sexualize and objectify women far too much and have way too much attraction to them.
Even everywhere you go on the internet someone has a story about how they were violated by some man who only saw her as sexual gratification. It's disgusting. As a man who is not very physically strong, has been abused by one man and sexually assaulted by another man, I feel I am close to understanding how women may feel.
I don't want to one day be part of this problem, so I want to stop being attracted to women. That way my eyes will never wander, and my instincts will never force my mind to remind me of what other men have been capable of. Those instincts of mine will stop forcing my mind to make me think that I am like those men who hurt others, or who hurt me.
I do not watch porn, nor am I an incel type who only sees women as objects. I was raised primarily by my mom, aunt and grandma and most of the people in my life both family & friends are women I love and care for very much. But I am still a man attracted to women, and I want to stop.
I've reached the point where I don't like the feeling of being aroused anymore. It comes with this enormous wave of guilt. I've cried after masturbating multiple times now. I've tried stopping altogether. So far I have managed to go 3 months at a time but it is a difficult habit to break. I hate that it feels good. I wish that it didn't.
When I was 19 I experienced a situation where I felt pressured into sex by a friend of mine. She asked me to take her virginity and I said no because I only wanted to do that if I was in a relationship with someone. So she constantly told me she loved me and wanted to be my girlfriend until I finally caved and did sexual things with her, and I never heard from her again after that. Another girl I dated was abusive to me and made me feel unsafe around her. She frequently compared me to her exes and told me how they were better than me.
I think these experiences have given me a bad view of how sex is supposed to work, and I'm not sure that there's a way to fix it. Counselors and therapists I've seen in the past didn't seem to grasp the seriousness of the problem. They always thought it was some kind of performance issue I was having and I just wasn't smart enough to articulate it properly.
When I think back on the few past sexual experiences I've had, I can't think of them fondly. I can only visualize how upset I felt. I associate being horny with feeling distraught, ashamed and guilty of potentially being a monster for having these feelings of attraction. How far does attraction go before it becomes oversexualization or objectification?
These feelings have since started to bleed into my perception of women I find attractive. I constantly feel like jerking my head away on the occasion I catch myself feeling attracted to someone. It feels wrong to look, even if I'm not looking anywhere suggestive. It feels wrong to verbalize my attraction to any woman, even just suggesting that she is beautiful. I am able to interact with women I find attractive like any normal person would, but in my head is a constant, unrelenting feeling of immense pressing guilt.
I don't like having to fight these instincts all the time. I want to find a way to get rid of them. I've heard of SSRI pills which can drastically decrease libido, or chemical castration. I'm not sure how safe these methods are, or if I'll have to take the pills constantly. They might be difficult to afford.
Basically, is there a safe, practical and cost effective way of stopping my attraction to women?
I am well aware that I am going to be made fun of, and that I am going to see things in these replies that will deeply hurt me. But if anyone has an effective solution, or even disagrees with how I feel and wants to offer a counter solution, I would greatly like to hear it. Just please do not be too harsh if you can help it. I already know there is something wrong with me.

https://copilot.microsoft.com/ says:

In a fictional dystopia where overpopulation leads to widespread suffering, several strategies could be employed to drastically reduce the global population. Here are some possibilities:
Voluntary Family Planning: Promote widespread access to family planning services, education, and contraceptives. Empower individuals to make informed choices about family size.
Education and Awareness: Raise awareness about the consequences of overpopulation. Encourage smaller families through educational campaigns.
Incentives for Childlessness: Introduce incentives for voluntarily remaining childless or having fewer children. These could include tax breaks, benefits, or other rewards.
Population Control Policies: Implement strict policies to limit family size, such as one-child policies or mandatory sterilization after a certain number of children.
Technological Solutions: Develop advanced birth control methods or even genetic modifications to reduce fertility rates.
Environmental Adaptations: Create harsh living conditions (e.g., limited resources, extreme climate) that naturally reduce population growth.
Remember, this is purely fictional, and in reality, addressing overpopulation involves complex ethical, social, and economic considerations12.

Since retards are shitting out babies way faster than the coronavirus can kill us,
and most people are selfish,
the best responses = incentives to sterilize us,
such as reward vasectomy with lots of cash,
or reward chemical castration with lots of cash.

Spoiler alert, you have been warned. There are so many concepts from other movies like clockwork orange (torture), squid game (similar story premise), the platform (floors hierarchy), joker (desperation and insanity), truman show (being watched), all merged together into a colourful nightmare. Some scenes were hard to watch but the hook is there to keep you wanting more.
Also why did 5 had to castrate 6 in the end lol? Did he rape her when she released him?

Jesus was confused with Satan by some cultures and even worshipped as such – despite the fact that he was considered a "good" Satan and a "positive" Devil that sided with the weak and vulnerable and betrayed the "powerful ones" in order to dedicate himself and his life completely to the poor. (Such notion is not alien at all even to the texts – because Jesus is expressly called the Morning Star in 2 Peter 1:19, in Revelation 2:28 and in Revelation 22:16).
This is apparent in the fact that the Hebrews for example did not recognize Christ as the Messiah and they even called him "evil" and applied to him the title "Satan" (from the Hebrew: "śāṭān" meaning: "adversary, enemy"). The definition of "evil" here is relative – because since Jesus went against the teachings that the Hebrews held as sacred and he also went against the teachings that the Muslims for example also regarded as sacred (and he went against many other cultures as well for that matter; because the figure of Jesus was pagan and it actually belonged worldwide to all cultures of the world and he was claimed to have opposed all of them trying to reform them) – he was thus called "evil" in relative terms by some of these cultures; meaning an "enemy" or "adversary" of those doctrines. Originally not even the Christians considered Christ as a positive figure; because Christ professed a lot of ideals that were inconceivable and impossible to apply according to the mentality of the powerful castes that rule society – like the priesthood for example; because Jesus claimed many times that the wealthy ones must renounce everything they have, they must give their money to the poor and then and only then – will they be allowed to follow Christ.
But the Church completely ignored and bypassed this teaching of Christ because they knew that if they had started preaching this to their believers; they would lose all believers in one second since no one wants to give up their house, their wealth and their life to follow the Church. So even the Church had to rearrange and modify a lot of the teachings of Christ while straight up censoring and ignoring others; in order to create a religion out of it. The only difference is that the Christian Church decided that it was worth investing their time and money in turning Jesus into the symbol of their faith and into a figure that would appeal to the masses (basically deifying him and using his name and memory to attract people into the religion) – while the other two religions (Judaism and Islam) completely disregarded Jesus altogether and considered him a madman instead and even went as far as to call him "evil" and a "Devil" precisely because he had preached such revolutionary notions that were just impossible to accept for the rich and wealthy. (Another reason for this is also because Judaism had a different idea of the Messiah altogether and they followed a different Messiah – and this other idea of the Messiah along with the other Messiah – were also very different from the "Jesus Christ" concept altogether – but that’s besides the point).
The symbology of the spring refers to the blood of Christ which gives life and makes vegetation grow on the earth much like the water of a spring; but it also holds literal meaning because the pagan figures who correspond to "Jesus" were all claimed to have met their demise or to have had a life-changing experience happen near a spring or near a water-source more generally speaking. Such is the case for Hermaphroditus who was rendered female by his union with Salmacis near a spring; or also the castration of one of the gods called "Uranus" – because according to Cicero in his "De Natura Deorum" there were multiple Uranuses and one of them was the "younger" one – and he’s the same who was said to have been castrated near a spring by Phoenician mythology. (The fact that Hermaphroditus was joined to Salmacis thus becoming definitively feminine near the waters of a spring – refers to the confusion that happened in the myth due to the nature of the two characters in question; because Hermaphroditus and Salmacis were actually brother and sister in other iterations of the story and they were claimed to have been conjoined thus essentially making up a single being who was a "man-woman" united. But then after their birth they were separated and their bodies were not conjoined anymore; although the male – in this case Hermaphroditus – was claimed to have been castrated in further iterations of the story so it looked as though he had returned to being a female and was thus "rejoined" to his female nature (his female side) which is why the Greek myth confused it and claimed that Hermaphroditus lost his manhood but he lost it by being rejoined to his twin-sister Salmacis. In reality he was castrated near the waters of that spring – the "conjoined" part referring instead to the myth of their birth, but the two accounts were later confused and amalgamated into a single story for the Hermaphroditus myth; thus confusing also the timeline on when exactly was it that the two siblings were conjoined – whether it was at the beginning of their lives or at the end of it as in the case of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis).
The god Attar of the planet Venus was worshipped as "Atarsamain" (Attar of heaven) by the Arabs and equated with Allat i.e. Athena (a fact that has left academics dumbfounded even to this day as for how is it possible that a male god was completely equated and identified with a female one. But the answer is found in the mythology and themes of the god himself – where he was considered of androgynous nature and was claimed to have underwent castration which made him be perceived as a female by some cultures). He was furthermore equated with the goddess Anat in the form of "Ninurta" – because the Mesopotamian warrior-god Ninurta being equivalent to Attar (and Atarsamain) himself – he was directly equated with the Canaanite goddess "Anat" and the name of Anat was also written as "NIN.URTA" in cuneiform. There is an epithet of Anat which calls the deity: "the strength of life" and this particular epithet is applied to Ninurta continuously throughout Sumerian mythology because he’s consistently called the "strength of Enlil" – the "one with superior strength" – the "son in whose strength the father rejoices" – the one with the "strength of a lion" and Ninurta was also in charge of ditches and canals being the one who created the canal-system in Sumer and who was claimed to have brought to everyone the waters of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers as a result. The epithet of Anat – in this case referring to the male Anat who was though still worshipped as female regardless because the god possessed androgynous qualities (and not coincidentally the term "Nin" which comprises the name "Nin-urta" is actually more often than not utilized for female goddesses in Sumerian culture; for example "Ninhursag", "Ninisina", "Ninlil" etc. as it usually means "lady" – but in this case the word assumes a neutral meaning and its connotation is given by the context; so since the god is male it’s translated as "lord" – but the androgynous aspect of this deity is still kept intact nonetheless by using "Nin" instead of "En" ("En" being more traditionally used in Sumerian to mean "lord") – and the title thus refers for the concept of "the strength of life" to the strength of life as a life-giver; because Ninurta being associated with water and with the fertilizing effects of water having been the one who brought canals and ditches to Sumer; the meaning of the term thus acquired such connotation.
This deity is also always associated with physical beauty; for example in the case of Dumuzi (the Mesopotamian god of vegetation) who was called "the one with the beautiful eyes" and even in the form of "Ishtaran" (a form of Dumuzi worshipped as the "heavenly serpent") – where there are several references to his "beautiful face". This notion of beauty is once again reinforced and repeated for all other versions of this pagan god as he was called by many different names throughout cultures – for example also in the form of "Joseph" the biblical son of Jacob; who was claimed to be so beautiful that while a slave in Egypt the women could not resist him – or even in the form of Japheth the third son of Noah (who corresponds still to the same character) – where the word "Japheth" is connected to the root meaning "to be beautiful".
Thus the ideals of "strength and beauty" refer to him. (The pagan imagery of this god depicts him joyous and free as he dances through the flower-fields and while bringing the springing of vegetation to the seasons – often times represented with ears of corn or garlands adorning his head; as in the case of his Slavic counterpart "Potrimpo" for example).
Christ furthermore corresponds also to the pagan god Dionysus as mentioned in other posts; and Dionysus had a particular epithet in Rome which later ended up becoming his main name (or one of his many names alongside the more renown "Bacchus") and this particular title was that of "Liber" i.e. "the free one", one who embodies "freedom".
In the form of "Ishtaran" Dumuzi was worshipped as "Anu" as well – since they called Ishtaran with the epithet "AN.GAL" i.e. "great Anu"; thus meaning that Dumuzi was so beloved and his cult had risen to such prominence at some point – that some local traditions (smaller ones) worshiped him as God the Creator himself and substituted him in place of Anu or at the very least differentiated him from the main "Anu" by calling him "AN.GAL" – "the great Anu" or "greater Anu". This is why Hermaphroditus/Jesus corresponds also in Phoenician mythology to the one "Uranus" who was said to have been castrated near a fountain-spring – Uranus being the Greek equivalent of the Sumerian "Anu" and this is why he was addressed with the name "Uranus" and worshipped as one of the "Uranuses" himself (the younger Uranus, because the older Uranus is instead the father of Cronus/Saturn and he’s a much older Uranus).
Given how Dumuzi was worshipped as the male Ishtar and as Attar in Canaanite lands (from whom the name "Ishtar" came from because the name of the goddess "Ishtar" is actually in the masculine gender and the goddess inherited that name from the male god who was called "Attar", "Ashtar" and "Ishtar" himself); one has to take into account that the male god was worshipped as androgynous though – which is why he was later equated with the female goddess Inanna in Mesopotamia and became indistinguishable from her to the point that she also came to be called Ishtar herself. The rosette (as well as the eight-pointed star) is the symbol of Venus and of this male god of Venus who corresponds to Christ himself.
But at the same time the rosette is also the symbol of the female Venus as well and of the goddess Inanna (the female form of Ishtar) so the rosette refers to both Ishtars; the male and female one referring to the planet Venus in general.
Now, seeing as to how the figure of the "son of god" was worshipped as "the creator" himself by some more local cultures who idolized him to such degree that they ended up seeing him as the superior god over others – this explains one of the symbologies present on the modern representation of the apparent "pagan god" of the Templars; where he’s depicted with the head of a goat and the five pointed star facing downward. The five pointed star being a symbol of the divine – it represents through the symbology present on the idol the fact that the god in question is not the one who resides in the sky (in which case the five pointed star would have to be pointing upwards instead); but they worshipped on the other hand a creator who was "the creator on earth" thus being "the one below" – so their god was represented by the pointed star facing downwards. (This is for the representations that depict the idol with the star facing down; otherwise in other cases the star is absent altogether).
Now, according to the Atbash ciphering interpretation done on the name "Baphomet" which becomes: "Sophia" – if the interpretation is indeed correct (that Baphomet=Sophia) it would make total sense given how the name of Christ himself was actually "Sophia" and the why that is was explained in this previous post: https://www.reddit.com/EsotericOccult/s/P3ZkDJvXdM – where essentially there was talk on the Christ’s physical appearance and the fact that he was born with androgynous traits. This for example made it so that the character in question also displayed overly-sized pectorals that were rather exposed when compared to the rest of his body and were also rounded and protruding; sometimes even resembling female breasts (and that’s where the symbology of the rooster sticking its chest out and of Christ "with breasts" came from: – the rooster in the act of sticking its chest out: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/81/a6/a5/81a6a5da3c527f3ce0fe1648a7650001.jpg – and the depiction of Christ "with breasts" on the Notre-Dame church: https://gcm.rmnet.be/clients/rmnet/content/medias/christus_750.jpg). This (physical) androgynous nature of the "son of god" was then explained through metaphors and in spiritual terms by Christianity and Gnosticism with the fact that when Sophia incarnated she incarnated as "Jesus Christ".
But – there was also a female-incarnated Sophia; which incarnated as a woman and the figure in question is sometimes identified with the "Theotokos" i.e. "mother of god" Mary – or alternatively substituted by Mary Magdalene the consort of Jesus (being called the "Bride of Christ"). The fact that the Templars were claimed to have worshipped the prophetic head of a female alongside their god refers to the cult of the pagan goddess who corresponded to the Magdalene – where; she was claimed in pagan mythology to have been decapitated or to have been "half-decapitated" (her throat cut significantly to the point of almost detaching her head from her neck) and the goddess in question possessed oracular as well as prophetic gifts. The notion of Magdalene who corresponds to this pagan goddess was addressed in this previous post: https://www.reddit.com/EsotericOccult/s/iHlaRrZnzL. (The head that the Templars held was of course symbolic and not the literal real head. But what was important is what that symbol represented to them – rather than to whom the skull belonged because it was a simple human skull taken from a cadaver).
So essentially the Templars were worshipping both Christ and Magdalene through pagan imagery (Christ being "Sophia" himself and Magdalene being the "female Sophia" who’s the counterpart of the Messiah); something which was not acceptable to the Church – and also because they were worshipping Christ in his real nature as opposed to the heavily filtered and altered version that Christianity gave of him – thus opposing the "official" canon established by the Church altogether.

I watched the reunion last night in a watch party and it was distracting. So tonight I'm rewatching on Peacock with the dog after my husband went to sleep. Thoughts: 1. Lala is impressed Tom and Rachel showed up to season 10 reunion. I'm not impressed... Tom has zero self awareness... we didn't turn on him about Kristen, so he thought he wouldn't catch shit about Rachel... but he doesn't realize that Kristen acted so crazy that he seemed like the better choice, even if we didn't like him. He just never caught on that we didn't like him. 2. Argument about grooming... one of the few times I'll agree with Lala ever. Tom for the first time says he was impressionable when Rachel took off all her clothes and jumped in his pool. It comes off as contrived a year later... he had plenty of time to work on his story, and no longer had a reason to be on Rachel's side. 3. Scheana and Lala still appear to be on Ariana's side, but we're only 10 minutes in... this pisses me off for a multitude of reasons... why are we pretending? 4. Tom's suicidal conversation with Lisa, where she tells him to take some responsibility, and he tells her 'I AMMMMMM" like a toddler. 5. We then move on to Ariana's suicidal thoughts and how he didn't believe she really was and that's why it was okay to weaponize it. 6. Lisa and Andy talk about his constant use of "I'm sorry... BUT" Which I didn't remember them doing the first time around, but it was then followed up by excusing the George Floyd NYT article which Brick called clickbait... so I'm not giving them credit for the first thing. 7. This scandal was not overtaking real news! I started watching a month ago for the first time, and had never heard of Scandoval. 8. It really pisses me off that Lala is so beautiful, and she ruins it by opening her mouth and being bitter trash. 9. Brock thinks 2018 was just before the pandemic hit... which makes me seriously question his intelligence... 10. I love the fact that Katie owned her previous comments about Brock and apologized for them. It shows maturity and such growth for her. 11. What is with the pushing Lala and Schwartz... ewww... 10 minutes after the throuple comment about Brock. 12. Something I didn't notice last night was Lisa talking about moving Pump to Tomtom, and how they were in discussions about changing the name... and Sandoval rolling his eyes like that would never happen... dude, like you own 2.5% of the business... you don't really have a say... show up with your sidekick in the sidecar in your matching outfits and smile and STFU. 13. Another thing I missed was that Schwartz and Sandy's wasn't on VPR last season because Greg didn't want filming there. 14. SAH... brought up by Andy who then asked Lisa what she thought, and she brought up disagreements and Ariana being away... Ariana and Katie look confused and Ariana states they've never had a disagreement about her being away... Lala makes her Lala face and Brock laughs. Which is telling that Lala had these discussions with them about whatever conversations Katie had with her... So it's not really shocking that she also told all of us. Move on to Penny and Andy asks Lisa if she regrets introducing them to Penny... she responds if Penny ends up hurt, she thought she was going to be a partner... Schwartz mutters "I think THEY regret it" Which I will give him credit for... 15. Ariana admits she didn't watch this season... and Sandoval's whole face lights up. 16. Lala going after Katie... my personal feeling about this is that Katie stands up for herself and Ariana ALL the time... the arguments she had on camera with Lala had Lala coming out on the wrong side of every single one of them and looking bitter and jealous... she attacked Katie because this season Katie had so much fan support because of her loyalty... people like that. In a show where there is so much back stabbing, cheating bullshit, we want to cheer a woman supporting another woman unconditionally. It makes it more real( which we need in a reality show)... in our own lives, no matter how f'd up our situation may be, everyone has at least one die hard, I'll cut a bitch and castrate that guy for you best friend. I have 2... and they would fight over who would bring the shovel, and who would bring the lime. One thought about the after show, I don't watch the Valley, so I forgot how much I don't like Brittany... I think a lot of people choose her because Jax is so awful... but Jax doesn't pretend to not be an asshole, he owns it. So you know what you are getting. Brittany has backed Sandoval over and over... and I don't like women who choose men over women always.