(Monde) Rappel de lots de jambon contaminé par la bactérie listeria | 60 millions de consommateurs alerte sur le rappel de plus de 70 lots de jambon de sept marques, dont Carrefour, Casino et Monoprix. Les teneurs détectées seraient toutefois faibles.
Since the end of the Chinese Civil War, Macau has grown tremendously in regional significance, shifting from a valuable entrepôt to one of the largest hubs in the Far East. The vast majority of refugees who fled to the territory have been allowed to stay, with 150,000 having already secured territorial residency (the closest thing to citizenship for non-ethnic Portuguese in the overseas territories at present), bringing the total resident population up to 350,000 (the remaining 150,000 have ten-year work permits). Of the 300,000 residents who have arrived since 1939, approximately 100,000 have settled on the Macau Peninsula, 50,000 on Colaone Island, and 150,000 on the previously under-populated Taipa Island (see map as attached). This has left much of the territory covered in slums, although a central government-supported programme to provide interest-free mortgages to refugees and new residents has led to the establishment of medium-quality, high-density housing across much of Taipa Island and the Peninsula. Small scale industry and locally-owned businesses have also taken off across the territory, as migrants attempt to start a new life in the bustling city. The Macau of 1957, therefore, finds itself with an affluent centre of business on the Peninsula, flanked by emerging neighbourhoods and slums in the south and east, a highly-populated emerging cityscape on Taipa Island, with a central nucleus of emerging neighbourhoods (predominately featuring high-density, apartment-style housing) surrounded on all sides by slums and small scale factories, and a still under-populated Coloane Island, which presently boasts some slums, farms, factories and traditional villages. The vast majority of small scale industry in Macau consists of textiles manufacturing in factories set up by the migrants. That said, larger-scale industry has also emerged, including a major bicycle factory near the border with China and a rifle manufactory on the southern tip of the Peninsula. This is emblematic of the territory’s economic ascendance, as is the arrival of new waves of ethnic Portuguese, who have brought the European population of the territory up to 13,000 since 1949.
The signing of the Sino-Portuguese Free Trade Agreement (SPFTA) in 1956 has dramatically improved the economic prospects of Macau. Indeed, the near-complete removal of Chinese import tariffs on Portuguese luxury goods has resulted in the establishment of a number of luxury goods production facilities on the Peninsula, as well as the proliferation of dozens of prestigious vendors in the affluent portions of the isthmus. In addition to the basic textile manufactories set up by the migrants, a number of fashion outlets have also been established for upper-class visitors, and for deliveries to customers in China, Hong Kong, Japan, Australia and Southeast Asia. Jewellers, shoemakers, watchmakers, tailors, cordwainers and bag markers have all set themselves up in the territory, where they create their products, sell them to visitors and also export them abroad. Distilleries have also become popular, with the territory developing a positive reputation for its fine, locally-distilled whiskey, rum, gin and baijiu. An emerging brand of dark rum, known as ”Ventos Orientais”, has grown particularly popular. The rum is recognised for its distinctive flavour, being the only major rum brand to use Timorese sugar. Tobacco companies have also established high-end stores on the Peninsula, where they sell a number of recognisable international cigarette and cigar brands. Otherwise, with the significant reduction of Chinese tariffs on precision-made products, a number of manufactories have popped up on Coloane Island, producing measuring equipment, precision medical supplies and levelling tools. The Banco de Macau, meanwhile, has left a permanent mark on the territory by becoming the first enterprise to construct a ‘skyscraper’ (as they’re being called) in Macau, building its new corporate headquarters on the western side of the Peninsula. It has been joined by the Macau-Beijing Investment Bank and the Banco Afro-Eurásia, which have also begun construction on smaller, albeit impressive skyscrapers. Regrettably for the Banco Português do Continente e Ilhas and Montepio Geral Bank, who do not have enough capital for a skyscraper, three-storey office buildings have had to suffice. In many cases, these banks have been instrumental in financing the recent expansion of the Macanese economy. The Banco de Macau and the Banco Afro-Eurásia, however, have sought to increase their regional presence even further by expanding into Thailand, the Philippines, Japan, Singapore and Indonesia. The Banco de Macau, in particular, is expected to make major investments in Japan, Thailand and Indonesia in the coming years.
Tourism and entertainment opportunities:
The recent introduction of Western gambling to Macau, along with the Banco de Macau’s heavy investment in new casinos, has led to a proliferation of the gambling industry across the territory. Dozens of small to medium, high-end, Western casinos now dot the Peninsula, while a number of traditional casinos have emerged on Taipa Island. Along with the emergence of a luxury shopping culture, the new casinos have proven extremely popular with affluent visitors from China, Hong Kong, Japan, the West and Southeast Asia. Many new hotels are being founded on the Peninsula to meet this demand, as well as a new, game-changing casino known as Casino Lisboa, which shall open its doors in 1960. Quite expectedly, the proliferation of gambling across the territory has only poured fuel on the metaphorical fire that is the gambling syndicate rivalry. New syndicates are now competing for an increased market share as outside factions interfere with the rivalry (see: the banks and Triads) and older syndicates desperately battle to preserve their local hegemony. Already, this rivalry has been given a morbid monicker, becoming known as the ”Bloody Game (残忍赛)”. This name is quite deserved, given that syndicates of all sizes have gained a reputation for sabotage, death threats, murder and murky alliances with the Triads as their deadly rivalry spirals out of control. Beyond the casinos, new bars, restaurants and nightclubs have been established across the territory, catering almost exclusively to high-end visitors and the Macanese elite. The combination of modern, dimly-lit bars, domestically-made liquor, prestigious fashion brands, international visitors and high-stakes games of poker have given Macau a distinct flavour, with the city increasingly being known as the ”City of Jazz (爵士城)”. Regular ferry trips between Hong Kong and Macau, coupled with daily/weekly flights to Tokyo, Beijing, Singapore, Manila, Shanghai and Bangkok are only improving this reputation.
MAP The huge population increase on the Taipa and Coloane islands have put immense strain on the intra-Macau ferry service. Hoping to alleviate this strain, the Macanese territorial government has announced a new project to connect Taipa Island to the Peninsula with a new bridge. Inspired by the Ponte de Liberdade in Lisbon, and designed by the same engineers, the bridge is expected to be completed by 1965 (marked in red on the map). The bridge is to be named in honour of the territory’s outgoing Governor, Joaquim Marques Esparteiro, being called the Ponte da Esparteiro. Otherwise, recognising the strain which Macau’s rapidly-increasing population has had on the geography of the territory, a major land reclamation project is to be undertaken on both the Peninsula and Taipa Island. Zoning will take place ahead of time for the planned land, allowing preemptive property sales to help fund the project. Dutch engineers will be brought on for the project as a result of their vast land reclamation experience. Additionally, the Portuguese Navy is to assist with the project by providing auxiliary vessels where relevant. The new Peninsula-Taipa bridge will only extend across the stretch of water between the reclaimed land, with the connecting road that passes over the reclaimed land simply being raised several metres above the ground. (Land reclamation areas are marked in blue on the map, along with their planned year of completion). Finally, in order to prevent a potential bottleneck of manufactured goods produced on Taipa Island from blocking Macau harbour and the Ponte da Esparteiro, a new industrial dock is to be constructed on the island, to be completed by 1964 (marked in orange on the map).
Vice and crime:
As previously noted, the expansion of the gambling industry has also spawned an intense rivalry between the syndicates. Indeed, the increased prevalence of vice across Macau has created an opportunity for the Triads, who already enjoyed a strong Macanese presence before the territory’s expansion, particularly on Taipa Island, the Peninsula casinos and in the slums/emerging neighbourhoods in the north. As the "Four Major Gangs (四大黑幫)” of Shui Fong, Wo Shing Yee, 14K and the Big Circle Gang have grown in importance, they have gained large footholds in the new neighbourhoods, where they run extortion rackets and loan shark operations, targetting small businesses, nightclubs and traditional gambling dens. Human trafficking has also emerged as a dangerous front, as the Triads seek to smuggle in illegal workers and, in the case of the nightclub sector, “waitresses”. Finally, the counterfeiting of patacas (Macau’s currency) has increased prolifically, as the Triads seek to use fake currency to make large bets in the casinos. Though Indonesia’s provision of detailed intelligence on Triad drug smuggling operations in Macau has resulted in a massive crackdown on that particular area of organised crime activity, the Triads appear to be gaining ground on almost every other front, creating a complex interplay between Macanese businesses, rival gambling syndicates, law enforcement, local politicians and the Four Major Gangs. Hoping to assist the struggling territorial police in eradicating bribery, human trafficking, extortion, loan sharking, murder and counterfeiting, the SIS (basically the Portuguese FBI/secret police) and the Customs and Finance Intelligence Service (CFIS) have created a joint task force known as Operation Varrer Profundo (Deep Sweep). This operation will see the two agencies create large, permanent offices across the territory, cracking down on the Triads and illegal gambling syndicate activity by sending in hundreds of agents. Thus begins what many expect to be a years-long cat and mouse game between Portuguese authorities, the Triads, the gambling syndicates, corrupt politicians and the business sector
Comment faire des courses pas cher et sans voiture a Lyon/Villeurbanne ?
Bonjour ! J'espère que mon message ne tombe pas a côté de la plaque dans ce sub, n'hésitez pas a me le signaler si c'est le cas. J'ai emménagé à Villeurbanne, près de Charpennes, il y a bientôt 1 an et j'avoue que je galère a faire mes courses. Près de chez moi il y a un franprix avec des produits sympa mais hors de prix et peu de choix, un Casino avec des prix moyens il me semble mais peu de produits qui me conviennent (je n'achète pas que de la marque, au contraire, mais sur certains produits c'est important pour moi niveau goût), et si je prends le tram je peux accéder a un Lidl où j'arrive a faire de bons paniers pas trop chers. J'ai aussi tenté les courses en ligne avec Carrefour mais vu le prix des produits et de la livraison je fais surtout des achats en gros (conservés, pâtes, etc) pour profiter du fait que c'est pas moi qui porte. Niveau fruits et légumes frais j'ai un abonnement a un service de paniers (style AMAP). Bref je suis pas super satisfaite de tout ça car étant une feignasse je me déplace rarement au Lidl et je dépense donc e l'élément en courses au Franprix. A tout hasard est ce que vous auriez des bons plans, soit suffisamment proches de Charpennes pour que j'arrive a me motiver a bouger, soit n'importe où dans Lyon/Villeurbanne a condition que ce soit suffisamment bon marché pour que ça me motive a bouger ? Par exemple des marchés, des supérettes particulièrement cheap, du déstockage ? Tant que c'est accessible en transports (eh oui c'est aussi a cause de ça que j'ai pas trop de choix) Merci d'avance pour vos conseils si vous en avez !
Well, I've gone and done it again. Another chapter of blabbering! I guess by this point some of you must be gluttons for punishment or at least chitter chatter so I won't apologize. In fact if anything this is all your fault for encouraging me! See what you have wrought?! Anyway you're all in for the long haul anyway! So enjoy! My Stories My Patreon Material Differences Wiki Chapter 1 Chapter 30 “They’re not as good as I was expecting.” Raven looked at another of the cookies she was nibbling on slowly. “Store bought are never as good. They’ve got to have some very strict tolerances for shelf life and allergies, and all that. But they’re not bad. Sugar, flour, chocolate, the main ingredients are all there.” Ham shrugged a little as he ate one. “That’s because you idiots don’t know the splendor that is excess.” Brandy-Lynn teased as she smushed down her cookie, candy bar, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, sprinkles, and powdered sugar sandwich monstrocity. “Yeah I’m not sure I’m that hungry.” Raven eyed the abomination that Brandy-Lynn then tried to figure out a way to pick up and eat even as it began to melt over her hands. “That’s a day’s worth of calories right there.” Jaeger shook his head slowly as he watched her try to eat it even as it fell apart a little, making it even more of a mess. “You do know at some point in the last few millennia some of your evolutionary cousins have learned to eat with tools and not just smear their food all over the place.” “Quitters.” Brandy-Lynn muttered as she gave up on trying to eat it as one coherent sandwich and began to just feed chunks of her dessert disaster into her mouth one at a time, ignoring how much chocolate and peanut butter was getting smeared around. “I’m seriously going to have to take you outside and hose you off.” Jaeger sighed and shook his head even as the others chuckled and enjoyed their far more simple cookies. “I have a question for you all. If I can.” Raven said then as she looked around the table. “You certainly can. But may you?” Figs asked with an arched eyebrow. “Yes, she may you pedantic tool.” Jaeger answered with a roll of his eyes. “Max asked you guys the other night about the scariest place you’ve been… what about the nicest?” She looked around once more that usual innocent smile she had. “Or like… a place you’d really like to go back to.” “Huh.” Ham frowned a little as they all began to think on it. It wasn’t a question they really had much of a chance to consider during their work as Revenants. “Maui 718.” Jaeger answered after thinking it over for a minute. “Oh yeaaaah. That place… yeah that’s got my vote.” Figs nodded. “I can see it. Even if it was a bit… traditional in the sense of an idyllic paradise that doesn’t make it bad.” Ham agreed. “What’s Maui 718?” Raven asked of course. “We got pulled off of R&R early because they’d picked up an automated distress beacon from a UNSD research facility. One that we had no records of, so it was flagged as critical. We went in blind because as mentioned we had no records of it. The idea of some old UNSD facility sending out a distress call a century after the war had ended worried a lot of people. Lots of theories on what horrors we might find there. And we had to tunnel three systems beyond the nearest gate from Sol so this place was beyond remote. It wasn’t on any charts, and its very existence was a surprise.” Jaeger started off and Raven looked worried. “But when we got there we found a paradise world with just nothing but an automated facility with nothing in it. They’d sent in construction bots and a single foreman to set it up but they never actually followed up with anything else. The foreman had died of old age some… twenty to thirty years prior to our arrival and the only reason the distress beacon went off is because the expiration date on the base’s medical supplies finally passed. Even an automated facility with no living personnel has to have current medical supplies. And that was it.” Jaeger shrugged. “That’s sort of sad the foreman was all alone though.” Raven frowned a little. “Not to him.” Jaeger smirked a little. “He had journals that he wrote sporadically, sounded like the guy loved it. So… let me explain the world a little because as I mentioned it was a paradise but it was also mostly water. Even more so than Earth. It was like… 15% dry land? The base was set up in this zone of islands where the water was… pure. I guess is the best way to describe it. Just… this great vast clear blue perfect water. The base was built into these rock pillars that provided it this unmatched view of the whole area and the sunsets and sunrises both were… phenomenal. It was warm year round without being too hot, and the shallow water was heated enough to be refreshing without being too cold. So the foreman realized what had happened and just spent his life fishing, exploring, and painting.” “It was trippy to see some of it.” Figs added. “He had a whole base worth of bots to work with and figured out some way to make paint from local materials and just painted these massive murals across the pillars in the ocean. He had named all the local species of fish and had lists on how to best cook them and the local fruits and veggies. Even made his own rum.” “That was good rum too.” Tanya nodded, of course weighing in on the alcohol. “Since they’d cut our R&R short for this they let us stay a week and make sure there wasn’t any hidden facilities or the like. They even landed Elysium in the ocean and let the crew have fun. It was pretty amazing. The protected cove the main base’s pillar was situated in was perfect for swimming and diving and body surfing… just whatever. And those fruits were great.” Jaeger sighed a little at the thought. “Oh they were amazing.” Figs nodded. “Picture this sort of… lime citrus flavor, but add a dash of vanilla and it’s more on the sweet side, and eaten like an orange. But not like… super sweet. Just… just enough.” “Not enough sugar.” Brandy-Lynn muttered as she swallowed one of the last chunks of her own sugar filled mess and downed some more purple drank. “Zero people are surprised to hear you say that.” Jaeger shook his head a little. “Plus while I can see why some people would like that sort of planet it’s too easy. Take just about any untouched habitable world and you’ll get some similar results.” She shrugged off. “No, if I were to pick a world we need to return to someday it’s Vegas.” Jaeger and the others had a variety of chuckles and groans in reaction to her comment. “Don’t you get enough sin?” Jaeger asked. “It’s not just that! It’s the pinnacle of the human spirit!” She insisted. “We took a barren world that was just barely habitable and only noteworthy because it was situated along a good trade route junction and while most people would have just settled for a few orbital stations and some water refineries on the poles we took one look at it and went ‘nah fam I got this.’ And it became the glory that is Vegas!” She raised her hands at the end. “It’s hardly unique to have a planet with gambling.” Figs scoffed. “It’s so much more than that! They made that world glow! It never slept! They slapped casinos and magrails all over that planet and made a desert gorgeous! The rainbow sands, the mineral springs, the gorge, you could find so many amazing natural features that would have otherwise been passed over just because the planet is drab from orbit! And the lights! This was a world that was most beautiful at night! The neons, the spotlights, the biolumes! It had everything! There was no end to the party! No rest for the wicked! Every human, and xeno sin and vice could be enjoyed at any time, on every day.” She grinned. “By devouring vast quantities of power and resources far outscaling the population it had.” Figs countered. “Of course you’d be in love with the most excessive and consumption driven world in human history! Even more so than Earth and that’s saying something!” “Ah you’re just a hater.” Brandy-Lynn waved him off. “She’s allowed to have the planets she misses most.” Jaeger cut in to end their argument before it went anywhere else. “Anyone else have planet’s they missed most?” “Dean’s world.” Ham spoke up as the others nodded slowly. “Ah, that’s a good trippy world.” Brandy-Lynn agreed. “What’s Dean’s world?” Raven asked. “It was… mmhhh… a strange planet… Very surreal fauna created by a rather unique atmospheric system. The ground level wasn’t actually habitable by humans due to toxic gasses and pressure. But at a certain point in the sky it was not only habitable but pleasant. So cities were created in the skies atop these massive spindly mountains that looked like coral formations. One of those niche worlds that attracted specific people but wasn’t ideal for any particular industry. Though it did have a decent chemical refinement base. And tourism due to the unusual nature of the world.” Jaeger explained. “You could wear protective suits and dive from the sky to the ground on these glide packs and weave between the formations. It was amazing to just drop out of the clouds.” Ham smiled at the memory, which the pilot obviously enjoyed. “That sounds really cool. Think we can go there someday?” Raven gave Jaeger a big hopeful smile though he frowned in response. “Ah… maybe someday. But it’s not in Pact space so I have no idea if it’s even inhabited anymore.” He explained. “It’s not? But… the Pact is made up of all the pre-war governments. Shouldn’t that mean all the old systems?” She asked with a frown of her own. “Eeehhh…” Jaeger slowly tilted his head side to side. “The pact territory now represents only something like 20% of all civilized systems before the war. Between what the Hive still has in the core, the Crusader territory which is mostly Ravex, the Death’s Door periphery of Devari space, and the quarantine zones there’s a lot less to Pact space than you’d think. There’s another… 20% that’s in a patchy quasi connected state that’s the new fringe. Everything else? Lost. With the collapse of the F.V.S. the Pact lacks the resources and the technical know how to revive the dead gates.” “Really? I read up about how the Pact is rebuilding all the time. The posts detail their programs to restore quality of life and infrastructure and all that. We see those big freighters from the valley taking food off world. I know you’ve talked about this being the post apocalypse and all that but… I thought that was a bit of exaggeration. Were that many systems destroyed in the war?” Her frown had deepened at the thought. “Most of them aren’t destroyed. Just… lost. The gate network provided easy, safe, and reliable FTL travel around the galaxy. Never mind that it left a patchwork of systems that weren’t always geographically connected in real space. Many of these systems are probably surviving on their own or with limited gate connections. Solavis and the most developed systems are all only a jump or two off of the hub systems in the Void so they’re working to make what territory they very solidly control strong before they try to expand. Humanity will survive even when cut off from the rest of the galaxy.” Jaeger assured her. “You think so?” Raven looked thoughtful at that. “I’m sure.” Jaeger nodded. “This isn’t the first time humanity has faced down the end and survived. The ice age, the bubonic plague, the climate catastrophe, all incidents that led to the death and destruction of vast swathes of humanity. And we also returned. Hell, the climate catastrophe was directly responsible for the Void colonization efforts that saw humanity explode across the stars. Do you think the smaller Slavic nations were enthusiastic about joining a Russian lead space program? Or south east asians having to hitch a ride with the Chinese? Or the Indians? Not really. But over a billion people die and prospects on earth look bleak so they take what they can get. They reforge their identities and now we’ve got the SSR, the Five Dragons, the Antarens, the Chakra and the Voiders themselves.” “Well… we did. Now we have the Pact.” Tanya pointed out. “Yeah… I’m still not sure how they plan to unite us all with Xenos. Humanity has never been ruled under a single shared government before.” Jaeger shrugged at the thought. “But so long as the Crusaders and Hive both remain prevalent threats we’ll stay somewhat together at least.” “We’re still not under a single government. There’s the Hive holdouts.” Figs mentioned. “Ah.” Jaeger just waved a hand dismissively. “They don’t count. They might as well be insects for all it matters in regards to their species. What I’m trying to say is humanity will go on. We become callus to the needs of our survival. What was unthinkable can become routine if it means we survive. There is no end to which we will push ourselves in order to survive as a species. But… at the same time this nature ensures it will happen again. In some way.” He shook his head slowly and sighed. “Another Hive war? Well we’re going to have to finish them off for sure.” Brandy-Lynn nodded. “Not that… or not exactly. I mean we’ll probably face another cataclysmic event of similar scale. Not anytime soon, and not in my lifetime. Hell maybe not for centuries… but eventually. I mean this was our fault… not just us as Revenants. But as a species. We became so successful that governments lost sight of what they were supposed to be. They thought of themselves as entities who existed to further their own power and control. But they lost sight of the fact that they were supposed to do this for the betterment of the people over who they ruled. Instead they were seizing power for the sake of power itself only. The shadow wars were all about each nation trying to ensure an open war wouldn’t break out between them with the Void states being paranoid enough to strike at everyone. Ally and Enemy alike equally.” Jaeger reminded them. “And in the end they were all now filled with citizens who were unhappy with what their governments were doing supposedly in their name. They were so focused on fighting each other they failed to realize they were cultivating the seeds of their own destruction from inside. It’s not like the Hive sprang up out of nothing. The unemployed, unfulfilled, aimless masses gave them all the conscripts they needed.” Tanya nodded as she finished the line of thought that Jaeger had started. “Success itself is not a sin. I mean… who doesn’t want more and better stuff. A way to leave your kids more than you had? But… this is what I mean with becoming callus. Those who suffer hardship en masse then learn to flourish in whatever is left. We become more and more successful until hardship of that scale is but a distant memory… and that’s when it all goes wrong again because no one in power remembers those hardships and what caused them. We are survivors because we are doomed to repeat ourselves. It is what makes us great, even if it makes us suffer. And we’re just bringing xenos along for the ride now.” Jaeger shook his head as the others chuckled a little. “I’m sure they’re capable of survival on their own.” Raven suggested. “The Ravex grew up on a brutal volcanic world, the Jipasi have always been adaptable, the Kra’Kto’Sui can survive almost any ocean and the Davari built themselves up from being abandoned on a strange world. You don’t think they’d survive on their own?” “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean… we’re probably a detriment to them. If we can’t get along with each other what chance is there to get along with xenos?” Jaeger shrugged. “I think it’s time though. The Pact promises equality and democracy. And they’re making it work! There’s a chance we’ll come out of this with a nation for all of us. No more need for shadow wars or anything like that.” Raven’s optimistic attitude always made Jaeger smile and this was no exception. He didn’t feel like bursting her bubble with his own doubts of their continued cohesion once enough worlds were rebuilt to the point of standing on their own and how old divides might be made fresh. “Speaking of survival though, have you done your chores today?” He asked her. “What? No.” She frowned in surprise at the question. “Well you’re always supposed to get your chores done.” He wagged a finger at her. “But you guys fought a battle! I couldn’t think about anything else!” She huffed. “That’s why I’m not mad that you’ve put them off till now but you gotta go do them before bed. Now get to it.” Jaeger nodded his head a the door. “But…” Raven looked around the table and pouted as several of the others chuckled a little. “We’ll have time to hang out other days. You want me to save the galaxy? You have to do your chores so I can focus on that.” Jaeger eyed her as she rolled her eyes and made a face. “Fine.” She agreed and got up from the table to put her dishes away. “Ah.” Jaeger shifted his seat back and opened his arms as she came around to give him a hug. “I’ll get the dishes you go get your work done.” He told her as he hugged her tight. “Okay dad.” She nodded and headed off out the door. They watched her go and just as the door to the cafeteria closed Brandy-Lynn spoke first. “Shit. Fuck. Tits. Coooock.” She gasped out as if she would have exploded holding it in any longer. “I will give you some credit lasting as long as you did you whiskey tango twat.” Figs snickered as he watched Brandy-Lynn who just flipped him off only for Figs to flip her off back. “Settle down. We need to talk strategy. We’ve got the lead on two keys for sure as mentioned. Figs, Brandy-Lynn what do you need to do to get with your people on tracking down leads on the others?” He looked between them. “A quick trip back to Sol town to sign off on a few transfers.” Figs answered. “I could probably shove my boot up the appropriate ass from here but I think I might as well give it a personal touch as well.” Brandy-Lynn shrugged. “You might want to check up on that Titan agent Sarge. Wasn’t there mention of another agent meeting with her tomorrow? What if it’s one of Alvarez’s men?” Tanya reminded him. “Shit…” Jaeger looked at his watch. The night had begun and he could see the stars coming out from the cafeteria window but hadn’t really thought about what that would mean. “We can handle it. Just have Ham drop us off.” Figs gave the pilot a look. “No, she knows me. I’ll do it.” Jaeger shook his head. “I’m not short on amp.” “It’s better than traditional Colombian cocaine coffee that’s for sure.” Brandy-Lynn grinned wide at the mention of the battle drug. “Isn’t that stuff hazardous for your health?” Max asked with a frown even as the others laughed. “Yes.” Jaeger ignored the others as they laughed. “But sometimes one has to keep going on little to no sleep. I’ll nap where I can. It’s not like I’ve never done it before. While we’re in the city I want you to check the wreck of the Nautilus.” Jaeger looked at Tanya. “Alone?” She asked. “I can’t spare anyone. Figs has his thing about the ocean-” “I don’t fuck around with the ocean and it doesn’t kill me. That’s the agreement we’ve got.” Figs cut in. “Brandy-Lynn always wrecks the sub-” “All of those events were unrelated and entirely not my fault!” She huffed. “And Ham is piloting the vetall.” Jaeger kept speaking ignoring their outbursts. “What about me? I can help.” Max perked up a bit. “I need you here to oversee fortifications. I’m going to have to go a little more… overt than we used to until this is all over and deal with the repercussions later.” Jaeger shook his head. “What? I want to help!” Max insisted. “You are helping Max. It might seem like I’m leaving you out but I’m not. I have to be in Sol town and you’re the only other person with any command experience. Especially managing bots between here and the Port Authority.” Jaeger explained. “Oh, one battle, some experience.” Max snorted. “Training. You’ve had training for this. We were all trained in combat but not command like you’re dealing with. I had a little as Sergeant Major but… I’m just not… I don’t think that way.” Jaeger shrugged. “If we get Lard back in the air he can do both. It’s not like we’ll need to go dark for this.” Tanya looked between them for a moment. “Alright. But your focus is fortification. If the Hive make another move, or Marque, or Alvarez we might need to be ready to withstand a more coordinated assault. So get a list of every available bot here and in the city. See if anything can be repaired and…” He trailed off for a moment as he thought. “Ham, how hard would it be to get the reservists online?” “Getting them online? Not that hard… getting them from my place to here? Uuhhhh… pppfff…” The pilot slowly filled his cheeks up with air and then let it out. “I can’t do it with what we’ve got. It would be way to inefficient to use the Hawk or even the Gecko, and if we called in a favor to get something bigger it’ll be painfully obvious.” “What about… Can any of them drive? Don’t you have those old Quad and a halfs? Ha...lves?” Jaeger stumbled over the word a moment. “Uh yeah… but I’m pretty sure people will notice some APCs rolling around the mountains.” Ham snorted. “So? Slap Pact markings on them and then park a few up the road to close off traffic. People are probably expecting some sort of Pact activity after the battle yesterday.” As Jaeger said that Ham looked thoughtful. “Yeah alright. I can drop you three off, swing back, get that going, and be back to pick you up.” He nodded. “After that we’ll come back and then I’ll take Brandy-Lynn and Figs north to Gullhaven to find the Galileo wreck while you three keep building up. Maybe see about making our own uglies if we need to. Think we can Tanya?” He looked over at her as she sighed. “Maybe… We’ve got the facilities but… I know jack shit about setting up assembly work. I made my two by hand and that won’t cut it here… What about a Centipede? We’ve got that scrap yard up the beach.” She glanced at Ham. “Fuck off.” The pilot snorted. “A few old APCs sure, that might not get much attention. But a base crawler? People are going to fucking notice. Especially since they were Absolute Dynamic’s babies and no one else had any. That’ll bring the real military down on our heads.” “Alright.” Jaeger waved them off. “See what you can do small scale.” “Why the emphasis on bot combat anyway?” Max asked as the others looked his way. “I mean… Can’t you guys call in favors? Aren’t there other Revenants out there?” “No one who can get here in time… And even then we’re not well connected anymore. We scattered to the winds when Titan began to hunt people down at the end of the war.” Jaeger reminded him. “We’re most familiar with bots anyway. We’re not front line soldiers on our own. We’re force multipliers. You saw the battle today. We’re limited to small scale units tactics and rely on your ability to marshall the bots into an actual line. The Void had a fraction of the population of the other majors. Their military was… 90% bots?” Jaeger glanced at Ham. “93% of ground forces but only 64% of naval. The idea was to use organic soldiers in concentrated forces and then use bots to flesh out the line between them. The Void military was highly specialized. Urban combat, arctic, jungle, forest, mountain, siege assault, siege defense, every possible terrain and mission had at least one unit for the task with more generalist bots as needed to pad out their numbers.” Ham explained further. “They relied on excellent command, communication, and control to make it all work.” “I noticed as the battle went on the bots seemed to fight better.” Max mentioned. “Yep. Neural net. As Lard better streamlined their net they’ll take in more battlefield information and fight better the longer it lasts. And… since I’m guessing none of them have been wiped in a while they might have needed the time to shake out personality quirks.” Ham glared at Jaeger. “Bite me.” Jaeger just shot back. “I was wondering why so many of them are people shaped. I mean… it’s not like the human form is honestly the best design is it?” Max looked around the table. “Not that I’m hating on our bodies or anything. I mean for military bots.” “Why bipedal humanoid forms you mean. With hands that operate guns instead of built in weapons?” Jaeger asked and Max nodded. “Economics. Since most systems had to be built for humans to use it just became easier to make humanoid bots that can also use them. I mean… there are specialized APCs, vetalls, and dropships for droids that are way more efficient but they can also use the regular models built for humans. It also makes it more difficult to differentiate in the field. A standard Void infantry soldier in armor and a frontline combat bot look remarkably similar. So it’s harder to know who to target if they all look the same. Most of them lack built in weapons for simplicity. Why build a gun into a bot when the small arms already being manufactured work fine?” Jaeger shrugged. “Bertha has built in weapons though.” Max mentioned. “Well… she’s a bit different. Most combat bots are just supposed to replace infantry. Similar profile, similar size, similar jobs. Bertha is a heavy assault bot so she’s made to take on fortified positions and even mechs. But she can’t move fast without support. She’s also a more intelligent unit. Tex, Pyro, Gargoyle, they can all talk and have more distinct personalities which pushes the boundaries of legality under the Shanghai accords. Most just chirp to reduce organic similarities and since they lack processing power for more sophisticated communication.” Jaeger continued. “You’d also be surprised how much control fingers have over something say… sticking out of the wrist.” Ham cut in. “Even for a bot they’re more accurate holding a gun. Plus a well armored core makes for a solid platform that’s harder to take down most of the time and the limbs can get replaced more easily. Though it gets more complicated with the variety of bots that were employed. I mentioned specialization and while most battle bots were generalist platforms there were lots of other units. Assault bots like Bertha are made to counter mechs in urban environments. Bug bots are made for wilderness ambushes. Howie’s are just walking artillery. There’s anti-tank bots too. The list goes on.” “Yeah I was also going to ask. The Draugr had both tanks and mechs?” Max looked a bit confused. “Well that’s cause the scavs made the tanks. They probably lack the sophistication for mechs so… slap some armor on some construction equipment, add a cannon or something, and you’ve got a shitty tank. But mechs are designed for urban combat while tanks are for open country.” Ham shrugged. “I mean… really there’s fucking… dozens of main platforms which are then further specialized into a hundred variants. But they try to reuse as many parts, weapons, and ammos as possible to make logistics easier. These guys are really where simplified logistics gets thrown out the fucking window.” Ham pointed around the table. “Yeah well that wasn’t a major concern at the start of the program now was it?” Jaeger shrugged. “And unfortunately we’re going to suffer for that now with our own vastly limited logistics capabilities. I was thinking maybe we could try to find some old steggies and give them... sleds or something to carry supplies maybe?” “Steggies?” Max asked. “We called them steggies. They looked a bit like stegosaur...uses… stegosauri?” Jaeger looked around questioningly as he had no idea what the plural would be. “Four legged, had solar panel fins, made for long range patrol and recon with some light combat potential. I mostly thought of them since they need almost no maintenance and they’re self sustaining on most worlds.” “But we don’t have many of them. Maybe if I tried to ping the planet for a general recall… but people would notice.” Ham pointed out and Jaeger shrugged it off. “Just an idea.” Jaeger replied and then looked out the main window once more at the stars in the night sky. He was quiet for a while as he looked among the stars. “You got quiet sarge.” Tanya mentioned as they sat there for a bit watching him. “Just… been thinking a lot.” He replied. “This morning I smashed a man’s skull in with a rock.” “What? When?” Max gasped out. “On the beach. One of the Hive soldiers had been hit and he was crying for his mother which was going to give away my position. I couldn’t find the asshole’s gun so… I just grabbed a rock and…” He shrugged. “I was just looking at the sky wondering about the stars. I have no idea which one Earth is. I’m not even sure if we can see the direction Earth would even be in from here. Or how far away it is. Like… is the light of Sol as it reaches Solavis old enough that men smashing each other’s heads with rocks would be a common occurence still?” “Like… how many light years it would take for it to each here?” Tanya asked. “Yeah. Like if I went back in time to whenever that light was first cast by sol into the galaxy at large would I be a caveman? A roman? A mongol? Would I fit right in with my skull bashing? How have we made it so fucking far and yet still… we’re the same? I told Raven about how the galaxy doesn’t really care. So we have to step up and care in its place. We have to get the keys for ourselves so that Marque doesn’t get them, but beyond that I… I want to actually do something good with it. We can’t afford to be passive. I can’t… My failure in planning for an attack got Merlin killed.” He shook his head slowly. “It’s not your fault sarge.” Tanya started. “The fuck it’s not. I knew Marque was setting up artillery in the city. Did I think the Hive would just sit back and take it? Why have I sat here doing dick all about improving the world for my kids to live in?” He waved a hand. “Dad…” Max started. “I don’t regret taking the time to raise you like I have.” Jaeger added. “But I should have been doing more. I never should have let us split up. We’ve lost so much time… And… you know I’m not sure any of us is good for anything besides killing… But we’re going to use that to make the Galaxy a better place.” “Fuck yeah.” Brandy-Lynn grinned, obviously on board with his plan already. “How?” Figs asked, a bit more focused on the possibilities. “If… When we get all these keys we’ll have the everything we need. We’ll have our old intel and communications network back, not to mention a way to track down wisps and mimics. Then we start bribing, blackmailing, and backstabbing whoever we need to to get shit done. Brandy-Lynn you’re the fucking Golden Web boss of this planet! You’ve got access to a criminal network through all civilized space and beyond! We can use that!” “You can count on me sarge!” She ginned, just as eagerly. “Figs, we can use your legitimate connections to make inroads with politicians beyond just finding out more about the keys! And even your company can provide us cover if we need it.” He waved at Figs who nodded. “Yeah, that would make sense. Start up some initiatives, get lobbyists in our pocket.” He agreed. “Ham you said Tabori is an assassin for hire now right? Well once we track his ass down we can use that too! He’ll know not only who else we can hire in a pinch to take out people we don’t like but just by being a part of that world he might know who we should watch in general! And Ham you… uh…” Jaeger trailed off a moment. “Yeah?” Ham asked, arching a brow. “You love pirates!” Jaeger finally pointed out. “You know shipping and star lanes! So if we need to hit at ships in the void you’ll know how to make it look right! Or even out to avoid the pirates that are really out there!” “Yaarr.” Ham let out a pirate growl as he grinned. “Tanya, you’re fucked up. But you’re the sort of fucked up that actually takes the time to ponder the sort of shit none of us do.” Jaeger waved around the table. “We’ll need that if we’re going to make this work. Knowing precisely who to bribe and how, who to blackmail and how!” “That’s not exactly the focus…” Tanya trailed off then and shrugged. “Fuck it. It’ll give me something to do.” “Plus if need to honeypot any more Hive bishops you’re the girl for the job.” Brandy-Lynn wiggled her eyebrows. “Who the fuck told you… Ham I’m going to strangle you!” Tanya growled out. “I was just catching her up to speed earlier!” Ham held up his hands to ward off any attacks. “I didn’t even know you swung that way. You always seemed way too boring and vanilla to be interested in more fucked up dramatic dangerous fucks.” Brandy-Lynn added. “It wasn’t… you know what you wouldn’t know a meaningful and heartfelt connection with another person if it burst out of your ass!” Tanya hissed back at Brandy-Lynn who just cackled. “I’m serious though.” Jaeger held up a hand to stop them from further bickering. “We do this to help drive the Pact in the right direction. Our issue was that we had no one watching us while we got up to shady shit. And now it might turn out that Titan is following in our footsteps. So we’ll watch them watching everyone else! We shift the tide of public opinion to make synths legal again. No matter how long it takes. No matter the cost.” “Yeah!” Ham clapped at that and the others let out various agreements. “But… what gives you the right?” The table went quiet as everyone looked at Max who gulped and leaned back a little then. “I mean… it wouldn’t be legal… what you guys are talking about. There’s no… due process…” “Max we’re already bad guys. We’re already evil. We might as well be evil for the right reasons. This is a time of change and transition. If we steer this right we could make the Pact a truly great government. And we just tidy up the dark corners that the law can’t reach. We’ve done it before. But we did it at the behest of other people who we simply accepted knew what they were doing. And never feel like you shouldn’t call us out on this sort of thing. I want you to. That’s why I show you so many of your mom’s memories. She was better about all this than I was. But instead of just following orders now we’ll have to make the decisions for ourselves.” “Hell, I always felt our extracurriculars were the best things we did.” Brandy-Lynn nodded. “Your what?” Max asked with a frown. “I kept reading about how girls visiting some of the other nations would talk about getting groped on trains, or pulled towards questionable places by the locals. So one time on leave I tried it out. I had the others keep watch from a distance and dressed the part of whimsical bratty tourist girl out of her element. Sure enough some guys got grabby… and I took care of them.” Her grin turned sinister at that. “Dare I ask how?” Max asked although even then he looked hesitant to discover the answer. “Ripped their balls off.” That same evil grin was plastered on her face. “Off?” Max stressed in surprise only for Brandy-Lynn to raise her hands to make grabbing and yanking motion that made Max shudder. “Command signed off on it too. They encourage our hobbies. I would hunt the more vile pirates.” Ham shrugged. “Tabori hunted poachers.” “Drug dealers.” Figs nodded and then caught Max’s look. “Like illegal drugs dealers who spiked their shit or sold to kids.” “Tanya went after loan sharks.” Jaeger mentioned. “How dare you try and associate that scum with violence based artisanal locally sourced money lenders!” Brandy-Lynn shot back as she pointed at Jaeger. “Those were corporate shitstains that’s what they were.” Max just looked questioningly at Tanya who shrugged. “I had some friends who had to deal with shady student loans. Schools that would tell them they were getting financial aid but really it was predatory loans. Stuff that pushed the limits of legality. Mostly the Void had strict consumer rights protections but… where money is made corporations proved willing to… muddy the waters of some of those laws with lobbyists. I figured… fuck it. Sometimes the law is wrong. Sometimes… there needed to be people who cut through it.” “And that was the point of the Revenant program. Kill one so ten may live. Kill a hundred to save a thousand. Kill ten thousand to save a hundred thousand. Kill a million so a billion might survive. Do what has to be done. Do what others can’t. In the end… it didn’t work. But I maintain that it wasn’t the fault of how we got shit done but the people aiming us. That’s why I stress how important it is for you to think for yourself. Because I didn’t.” Jaeger shook his head. “Dad-” Max started. “I didn’t.” Jaeger cut in. “I just followed orders. I was some dumbfuck kid from the stacks who barely made it into the program and I was so thankful for that. So… fucking… thankful. I just assumed these people with college degrees, and… doctorates, and experience, and rank just knew more than I did. Yes sir. Kill this town? Yes sir. Shoot this family in the face? Yes sir. Do terrible things that qualify as war crimes? Yes sir.” Jaeger kept saluting as he said that. “That girl… that Raven asked about… The one you said must have escaped?” Max looked worried. “I killed her.” Jaeger didn’t bother hiding it. “But she was… a kid right? Raven’s age?” Max’s expression nearly broke Jaeger’s heart. “Orders. Condition zero. No witnesses. No survivors. No exceptions.” Jaeger shook his head slowly. “See this is why we’re all still afraid of your dad.” Brandy-Lynn spoke up to take some of the focus off Jaeger. “You guys? But you’re all… He’s just baseline…” Max looked a little confused as he looked around the table. “As soon as someone gets put into his mental needs to die list he won’t hesitate. And the thing is only two people in the universe can’t be put on that list. You and Raven. Everyone else? Dead. No hesitation. Cops? Civilians?” She shook her head. “Sorry. Hell, if any of us were somehow put in a place that we became a threat to your life or Raven’s? Your dad would fucking kill us. In a heartbeat. Faster if possible. But that’s because he’s the most selfless fucking person I’ve ever met.” She looked back at Jaeger. “That’s a lie and you know it. About my being selfless. I would certainly kill you without hesitation if I needed to.” He nodded. “Love you too sarge.” She grinned and then focused on Max. “See, your dad accepts the responsibility of being the bad guy. Of being evil. He still does the right thing. He just doesn’t bother with all the bullshit. And don’t let him fool you with his hard talk. Sure we’re evil… but we killed a lot of bad guys that no one else could. Him killing a kid? It sucks. But in the face of stopping a war? Stopping the Apostles? Fuck it was worth it. We aren’t cops. We’re killers. Let the law catch who it can and we’ll get the rest.” [Continued in Comments]
CELEBRATING the 50th ANNIVERSARY OF LET IT BLEED AND ALTAMONT
I just wrote this piece looking back at my favorite Rolling Stones album Let it Bleed (or maybe a tie with Exile!). I wrote about the music and the era in which it was recorded in. (It is also published here) https://preview.redd.it/r8kvy3hp3o341.jpg?width=280&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=fce981d098faef3e8cc8ef4456393e90d728efe5 This December marks the 50th anniversary of the Rolling Stones’ seminal 60s record, “Let it Bleed.” A record which, with its accompanying American tour, marked, and more broadly encapsulated, the end of an era: the 1960s. The 60s was defined by its youth, aestheticized by the carefree hippie counterculture movement that made pilgrimages to music festivals and experimented with psychedelics. The end of the decade, however, saw the political and social climate become increasingly turbulent. Domestically, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968. Riots followed. Less than three months later, JFK’s brother Robert Kennedy met a similar fate. In 1969, a string of brutal murders in California by members of the Manson family followed by a deadly stabbing at a Rolling Stones’ concert at the Altamont Speedway further rocked the nation. Overseas, in Southeast Asia, America’s entanglement in the Vietnam War was at its peak. Meanwhile, in Europe, democratic, liberal reforms in Czechoslovakia were crushed under Soviet tanks as the Communists rolled through Prague. While the world around them was on fire, the Rolling Stones themselves were, by the end of the decade, on the brink of collapse, brimming with financial woe and internal conflict. They hadn’t toured since 1966 (except a few European shows in ’67) and under the new management of Allen Klein, had seen whole swaths of their royalties funneled into Klein’s pockets. Meanwhile, the band’s founder, Brian Jones, had been slowly deteriorating for years, succumbing to his worst, most self-destructive vices. He had been absent for most recording sessions, and, even when present, was barely able to function. While this was happening, his girlfriend, Anita Pallenberg, left him for Keith Richards. And bassist Bill Wyman was going through his divorce, while Mick Jagger’s relationship with his girlfriend, Marianne Faithful, deteriorated as she spiralled down the rabbit-hole of addiction herself. It was against this dark and disorderly backdrop that the Rolling Stones began sessions for their 8th U.K. studio album. The bulk of the record was recorded over six-months, beginning in February 1969. What resulted was a record that reflected not just the era in which it was recorded, but the internal state of the band recording it. Rather than allowing themselves to be consumed and destroyed by the turbulence and chaos surrounding them and boiling within, the Stones instead channelled that dark aura onto the grooves of their 1969 magnum opus, “Let It Bleed.” With Brian Jones’ mental state, weighed down by his addiction, not to mention the bevy of arrests on his criminal record hampering potential U.S. tours, the band had no other option but to replace the founder of the group. On May 30, 1969, Mick Taylor from John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers played his first session with the Rolling Stones in Olympic Studios. It was around that time that the band recorded the opening track, “Gimme Shelter.” There’s a reason Martin Scorsese used this song in three of his gangster films (“Goodfellas,” “Casino,” and “The Departed”). It starts with a subtle, foreboding guitar riff. Next, as the drums kick in, a new layer is added: a creepy, brooding background vocal, those haunting “oohs,” coupled with the creaking sound of guiros, leading up to Jagger’s vocals. The song is composed and structured to convey the dread of an impending storm, as well as its impact. It’s like a hurricane that starts with a trickle and builds to a thunderous pour. The opening lines, “A storm is threatening my very life today,” were written by Richards in his London apartment, staring out into the dreary, stormy skies and pouring out his anger and frustration at Mick Jagger over a suspected affair he was having with his then–girlfriend, Anita Pallenberg. The entire composition is elevated, rocketed through the stratosphere in its second half by the soulful Merry Clayton. Her gospel cries, pushing her vocal prowess to its breaking point as her voice cracks on the third iteration singing, “Rape, murder! It’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away,” animate the aesthetics of the era – the late 60s – the racial tensions, the anti–war protests, et al. In those few minutes and simple lyrics, “Gimme Shelter” sends genuine shivers running down your spine. If “Let it Bleed,” as a record, marked the transition period from the Stones’ Brian Jones era to the Mick Taylor era, then its second track, “Love in Vain,” a Robert Johnson blues cover, is where Keith Richards officially replaced Jones as the blues engine of the band. The tragic irony of this track is that Brian Jones, the man who formed the band with intent to import the blues to Britain, was completely absent from these sessions where the Stones played the purest, most earthly blues they’d done yet. Richards, apart from playing his guitar parts, played all of Jones’, including Jones’ signature slide guitar. While covers are sometimes put on records as filler to make up for lack of material, the Stones’ “Love in Vain” is far from facile. Richards, influenced by Gram Parsons at the time, made the song entirely his own, rewriting it as a country-blues arrangement. The Stones’ latest single at the time was “Honky Tonk Women.” When it came to putting it on the record, Jagger and Richards stripped the grease and slickness clean off the twangy single, exposing its acoustic, country-blues underpinnings, and releasing it in all its rawness. “Country Honk,” the resulting track, isn’t showy or grand. Whereas “Honkey Tonk Women” is electric, refined, and written for concert venues, “Country Honk” is relaxed and laid-back. It exudes that country aesthetic of southerners sitting back in wooden rocking chairs and strumming their guitars at the ranch, off, somewhere in Jackson, Tennessee. Lucifer, from “Sympathy for the Devil” in their previous album, “Beggars Banquet,” makes his reprise in the dark, rugged blues epic, “Midnight Rambler.” But here, rather than presenting the devil as some abstract idea – reappearing throughout different moments in history, i.e. around St. Petersburg in the Russian Revolution – the Stones personify the devil. They make evil real, channeling it in the form of the Boston Strangler – a serial killer who raped and murdered 13 women in the early 1960s in Boston, Massachusetts. When Mick Jagger croons, “I’ll stick my knife right down your throat baby,” you can feel the strangler’s presence as it creeps up behind you. Opening the album’s B-side, “Midnight Rambler”features some of Jagger’s best blues harp playing overtop a pure Chicago blues shuffle from Richards, to create that spooky hook. Richards wrote the country love ballad “You Got the Silver” for his girlfriend, Anita Pallenberg. However, that Keith, for the first time, took the reigns as lead vocalist on this track, was mere happenstance. While trying to overdub different parts to the song, producer Jimmy Miller and the engineer accidentally deleted Mick’s vocals. Unfortunately, in 1969 – when the recording process was entirely analog – the nifty, lifesaving Control + Z undo operation was still a dream of the future. And with Jagger being abroad shooting a movie, the only solution was to have Richards fill in. In the end, it was a happy accident, as anyone who’s heard the bootlegged version (available here) with Mick Jagger on the vocals, can confirm it’s a bona fide Richards song. It’s hard to classify anything the Rolling Stones have recorded, let alone anything on this record, as underrated. But “Monkey Man” is as close to that marque as anything in their canon. Ask someone their favorite Stones riff and they will undoubtedly mention, “Satisfaction,” “Jumping Jack Flash,” “Brown Sugar” or “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking,” just to name a few (some might even suggest “Rocks Off” or “B****”) but everybody seems to forget the grooviest riff of them all: “Monkey Man.” This is about as good as The Rolling Stones ever got. Instead of opening with the main guitar riff, the song begins with a mischievous and enigmatic piano lick by Nicky Hopkins – added xylophone effects accentuate the aura of mystery – laid over a groovy bass line. In a similar, teasing manner, Keith Richards’ guitar starts playing along, slowly getting into the groove before finally ripping into this suave riff. And on top of that, did I mention some of the finest lyrics Jagger ever sang? “Well, I hope we’re not too messianic or a trifle too satanic. But we love to play the blues.” It’s a real shame the Stones themselves overlooked this gem because it wasn’t ever played live until decades later in their Voodoo Lounge tours in the 90s. By 1969, the Stones had already recorded what would be the last track on the record, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.” Opening with the lush harmonies of the London Bach Choir, leading into Keith Richards’ acoustic guitar interwoven with Al Kooper playing the French horn, “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” creates a sense of cinematic scale and beauty that transcends anything they had ever done prior. The choral ballad’s title verse – “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” – is a fitting a mantra to the end of the 60s. Where the love-and-peace hippie youth of the sixties were vying for idealism, the Stones offered realism. The anti-war hippie activists advocated for a future where war, nuclear weapons, and conflict didn’t exist, popularizing by the slogan, “Make Love not War.” What the Stones offered was alternative to naivety. They were never ones to advocate for a radical revolution. In their ostensible salute to protest, “Street Fighter Man,” (off “Beggars Banquet”) the Stones sang about overthrowing regimes, “I’ll kill the king and rail at all his servants” only to follow it up by jettisoning the call-to-arms, stating, “well, what can a poor boy do except play in a rock and roll band?” Effectively, the sentiment is that while you might feel rage and distaste with the status quo, a violent revolution isn’t going to solve anything. They hinted at this same thing in “Sympathy for the Devil,” when the devil, who was the song’s narrator, professed to being present at the Russian revolution when the Tsar was overthrown. “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” suggests a similar point, that, in the end, things will work out. You may not always get the idealistic, perfect outcome you envision; life doesn’t work that way. But you can get what you need. Wrapping up final mixes and overdubs on “Let it Bleed” in November, the Stones embarked on their first American tour in more than three years. Mick Taylor would take Brian Jones’ spot, who, after being fired from the band he founded, tragically died in July. Concluding their 1969 American Tour, the Stones played their last show on December 6. As a response to reams of complaints from fans disgruntled with soaring ticket prices, the Stones, together with Jefferson Airplane, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, the Flying Burrito Brothers, Santana, and the Grateful Dead organized a free concert at the Altamont Speedway in northern California, billed as “the Woodstock for the west.” Organizing Altamont was a lot like playing Tetris blindfolded, with twice as many blocks dropping and at three times the speed, while you were literally on speed. After a slew of back-and-forths between organizers, the Altamont was finalized as the venue on the night of December 4th – less than two days before the concert was scheduled to take place. The venue, built for a capacity of 7,500, was host to a crowd of over 300,000 hippies, almost all of whom were zonked out on myriad psychedelic drugs. For security, the Hells Angels motorcycle gang was recruited in exchange for $500 of beer (good luck declaring that on your tax forms). The Altamont was the perfect storm for a disaster. And the storm made landfall during the Stones’ set. When a drugged-up attendee, Meredith Hunter, drew a revolver as he approached the stage – while contrary to mythos which theatrically has the Stones playing “Sympathy for the Devil,” the Stones were playing “Under My Thumb” – the Hell’s Angels stepped in, stabbing him to death. The infamous Altamont Speedway stabbing, in conjunction with the spate of violent murders by the hippie denizens of Charles Manson’s commune, were the harsh winter that ended the summer of love. The counterculture youth of the sixties wanted the summer of love to continue forever. They didn’t want a Nixon presidency, and they wanted the war in Vietnam to end. With “Let it Bleed,” the Rolling Stones captured all of their woes and worries in one record, and they wryly responded, “you can’t always get what you want.” And they were right. The summer of love was over, and Nixon was president. But they got what they needed: the war ended, and heck, we all got a pretty damn good Stones album.
Jeu en ligne à l'étranger: caractéristiques et fonctionnement
L’industrie du jeu en ligne a pris de l’élan ces dernières années, mais elle n’est pas légale dans de nombreux pays du monde et, là où le jeu interactif est autorisé, les joueurs bénéficient d’un large éventail d’opportunités dans le domaine des paris et des casinos en ligne. Dans les casinos les plus populaires au monde, il y a toujours un grand nombre de jeux, ce qui explique leur popularité. Cette fonctionnalité a été en mesure de sauver pour eux-mêmes et les institutions en ligne. Les tout premiers casinos en ligne sont apparus en Grande-Bretagne, c'était en 1997, mais ils sont rapidement devenus des marques mondiales dans le domaine des jeux de hasard. Jeu en ligne à l'étranger: fonctionnalités et fonctionnement Les joueurs étrangers sont principalement séduits par la possibilité de jouer à un grand nombre de jeux. Selon les statistiques, on peut dire que non seulement le divertissement classique est populaire, mais aussi des choses comme le poker avec un vrai croupier. C’est sur ce principe et sur l’expérience de collègues étrangers que les casinos en ligne russes fonctionnent. Ils offrent une large gamme de paris et mènent des actions marketing efficaces pour attirer les gens. Les exigences élevées sont définies pour le logiciel, il doit être le meilleur et le plus diversifié. Ce sont ceux qui sont utilisés dans les zones de jeux en Russie. Les licences Lorsque la notation des meilleurs casinos étrangers a été créée, la légitimité de l’institution a été au premier plan. Les joueurs expérimentés savent que seul un tel lieu leur garantit la liberté de jouer et un paiement honnête pour gagner. Chaque casino en ligne, pour lequel sa réputation est importante, doit posséder une licence lui permettant de fonctionner. Des licences peuvent être obtenues dans les territoires suivants: Royaume-Uni, Malte, Gibraltar, Curaçao et l’île de Man. La plupart des établissements légaux possèdent des licences obtenues dans ces zones. En outre, les résultats de l’étude ont montré que les casinos en ligne ayant reçu l’autorisation de travailler dans les territoires indiqués ci-dessus ne sont pas bloqués dans les pays où il opère. La seule exception était la Hollande, où des ressources similaires sont sujettes au blocage. Conception de site web Jeu en ligne à l'étranger: caractéristiques et organisation du jeu Outre la licence, la conception de votre institution est également importante. La règle première et la plus importante est que la simplicité doit être l’essentiel dans la conception. Un nouvel utilisateur ne devrait pas avoir de difficulté à comprendre un grand nombre de boutons et de panneaux lorsqu’il entre sur le site pour la première fois. Le site doit être simple et intuitif afin que le joueur potentiel puisse https://casinoenlignenox.com/casino-en-ligne.htm l'explorer un peu et choisir les jeux auxquels il va jouer. Lors du développement du site, une attention particulière doit être accordée au dessin des couleurs. La couleur ne doit pas être très frappante, elle doit être suffisamment brillante pour distraire votre attention. Cette conception est assez rare et principalement parmi les débutants et les escrocs. La règle d'or suivie par les concepteurs-concepteurs est de ne pas rendre le site trop gris, pâle, laide, car un joueur potentiel doit comprendre qu'il ne se trouvait pas sur un site simple, mais dans un casino en ligne. Une variété de langues de support Les casinos en ligne prenant en charge 3 ou 4 langues ne seront jamais au top, les plates-formes interactives prenant en charge de 10 à 20 langues occuperont toujours les positions de leader dans ce secteur. Il est évident que le multilinguisme attirera un grand nombre d'acteurs de différents pays, ce qui est en soi bénéfique pour l'opérateur. Grâce à la prise en charge d'un grand nombre de langues, tous les utilisateurs se sentiront à l'aise, car ils n'auront pas à comprendre les subtilités des paramètres et à traduire des parties incompréhensibles du texte à l'aide d'un traducteur. Ceci est particulièrement utile dans la section où le compte est reconstitué ou l'argent retiré. Prix et reconnaissance Jeu en ligne à l'étranger: caractéristiques et fonctionnement Habituellement, les meilleurs casinos en ligne du monde recevront de nombreux prix et récompenses. C’est la preuve que l’institution est différente des autres. Vous y apprécierez certainement le jeu et bénéficierez d’un excellent service. Habituellement, les informations sur les récompenses et les réalisations des casinos en ligne figurent sur des pages séparées et attirent l’attention de l’utilisateur avec un design inhabituel ou une marque spéciale.
meilleurs produits BIO & éthiques du comparatif de 60 Millions de consommateurs : quinoa, riz, miel, huile, chocolat, café, sucre...
Comparatif produits BIO 60 Millions de consommateurs : - la meilleure huile d'olive selon est l'huile Vigean - le meilleur chocolat est Alter Eco du Togo - le meilleur café est le Casino bio moulu du Mexique - le meilleur quinoa est ethiquable d'Equateur - le meilleur riz long blanc est Markal d'italie - le meilleur miel de montagne est le miel de marque "Provenance" le meilleur miel de fleurs est le miel "l'Abeille Royale" - le meilleur sucre de canne est le sucre Hygiéna N'hésitez pas partager si vous avez trouvé mieux ou d'autres bons produits. Merci :)
[long compost] Si les candidats à la présidentielle étaient...
Et si les candidats à la présidentielle étaient des clubs de foot, des objets du quotidien ou des acteurs ? Issues d’une conversation entre potes, les analogies présidentielles sont un projet collaboratif ayant pour ambition la comparaison de ces 11 braves candidats à l’élection présidentielle qui vont du un peu limité au carrément flippant. Pour le lol, quoi. Ceci n'est que la première partie, le post complet étant trop long. Plus de conneries à venir !
I- Présidentielle et Ligue 1
Le Pen c'est le PSG, ça gagne quand ça sert à rien (régionales, municipales, coupe de la ligue et ligue 1) mais dans les grandes occasions (Barça, présidentielles…) ça fait pschiit et tant mieux. Ça tente une politique de dédiabolisation en cachant les fachos (en fermant les tribunes de Boulogne ou en virant son père) et ses origines bourgeoises (un stade dans le XVIe, un manoir à Saint Cloud) mais personne n’est dupe. Macron c'est Monaco, le club riche qui aime les banques, bref qui a tout pour être haï sauf que tout le monde l'aime parce que c'est le seul à pouvoir battre le PSG. En plus il a bien monté sa stratégie à coup de transferts bien sentis (Bernardo Silva, François Bayrou, Fabinho) et de lâchage opportun (Ranieri/Hollande) Fillon c'est l'OM, un gros club historique qui devrait se battre pour le titre mais un très mauvais management et un peu de corruption l'ont coulé. Il est en reconquête avec une nouvelle recrue prometteuse (Payet/Baroin) mais les autres ont pris trop d’avance. Ce côté bling bling dans le look (costards à 8000 euros, grosses chaînes en or des joueurs) est très mal senti par une base militante qui est à 1000km de ces valeurs. Mélenchon c'est Nice, ça joue bien, ça parle bien, et jusqu’à il y a peu, on le prenait pas trop au sérieux. C'est un bol d'air frais dans la campagne et on serait content qu'il soit sur le podium. On lui souhaite de confirmer dans la prochaine campagne européenne. Hamon c'est l'OL, la stratégie est couillue, ça innove en proposant le salaire universel ou en construisant son propre stade, et pourtant qu’il paraît loin le temps où l’institution régnait sur la ligue 1 ou la vie politique française. Maintenant les joueurs ciblés préfèrent des clubs plus attractifs (Mélenchon, Macron…), et la non-qualification en Champions league ou au 2e tour risque de coûter cher. Dupont-Aignan c’est l’ASSE, trop ambitieux pour se résoudre au ventre mou, pas assez bon pour jouer les premiers rôles, il est en situation intermédiaire. Représentant le gaullisme ou le meilleur du foot français, il a eu ses années de gloire dans les 60’s/70’s. A coup de sortie contre l’euro, de sponsors « le coq sportif » et de recrutement français, il défend ardemment le patriotisme économique. Jean Lassalle c’est Lorient, il va finir dans les derniers suite à une rupture difficile (Gourcuff/Bayrou). Malgré ça tout le monde l’aime bien quand même, il est sympathique et il représente le terroir. En plus au MODEM et dans le Morbihan ça joue en orange. Philippe Poutou c’est le stade de Reims, ça représente le passé, on le ressort en Ligue 1 ou aux présidentielles à échéances régulières mais tous les grands prophètes de la cause (Lénine, Kopa) sont morts depuis longtemps. Asselineau c’est Bastia, c’est supporté par deux pelés, trois tondus mais putain tu veux pas les provoquer parce que ça tacle sévère et avec beaucoup de mauvaises foi et de relents complotistes. En plus ça soutient la sortie de l’ensemble dans lequel il est établi (UE, Ligue 1). Arthaud c’est l’ASNL : ça se bat avec ses moyens, c'est arc-bouté en défense (des travailleurs ou "qui s'y frotte s'y pique"), ça manque de panache et de brio mais on en a besoin pour faire une Ligue 1/campagne old school. Malgré ça, sans Youssouf Hadji ou Laguillet c'est plus pareil. En plus on dirait pas comme ça mais ça peut être agressif comme Rousselot à une réunion de la FFF. Cheminade c’est le RCL. Un gros projet pour nous enfumer (la conquête de l’espace, Hafiz Mammadov) mais ça décolle pas. Pourtant on sait pas pourquoi, on le trouve fascinant. Le jeu à la nantaise c’est le philosophe roi de Platon : tout le monde fantasme dessus, mais personne l’a vu en vrai depuis l’Antiquité. Puis bon faut pas se mentir, on sait qu’avec la Ve République ou Emiliano Sala en pointe, c’est complétement inapplicable ce truc.
II- Présidentielle et acteurs/actrices
Macron c’est Tom Cruise, c’est bankable, tu le vois partout, c’est propre sur lui et souriant. Mais quand tu vas voir un film avec lui, tu sais qu’il va toujours jouer de la même façon. Et avec la scientologie tu sais jamais trop ce qui se passe derrière lui et à qui il obéit vraiment. Hamon et Mélenchon c’est Alexandra Lamy et Jean Dujardin. Tous les deux sont de bons acteurs, bien que le 2ème soit quand même plus charismatique et populaire. Quoi qu'il en soit nul doute qu'ils sont meilleurs à deux, et la (re)formation d'un duo aurait emballé de nombreux Français. Mais peuvent-ils s'entendre professionnellement quand un divorce les a séparés dans leur vie privée ? Cheminade c’est Michel Blanc, comme Jean-Claude Duce, y a que lui qui croit que “sur un malentendu ça peut passer”. On irait pas jusqu'à dire “qu'on le trouve très beau” mais bon il a l'air sympa et devrait prétendre à autre chose qu’à des rôles comiques Lassalle c’est Patrick Bosso, tu le mets dans ta comédie française seulement parce que t’es à court de blagues et que tu te dis que tu vas faire rigoler les gens juste grâce à son accent. C’est con parce que si ça se trouve il dit des trucs super intelligents. Fillon c’est Depardieu : quand il s’agit de faire son travail, le mec est super à l’aise, limite un dieu, par contre en dehors de ça… Il a visiblement un problème avec l’argent, et les russes l’aiment bien sans que tu saches trop pourquoi. T’as beau lui reconnaître un certain talent, des fois tu te dis qu’il ferait bien d’arrêter les frais. Asselineau c'est Jacques Villeret : tu l’inviterais bien pour un dîner de cons mais pas beaucoup plus. Arthaud c'est Scarlett Johansson : si tu devais faire le Grand Soir, ce serait avec elle. Poutou c’est Jean Reno : il a toujours un air de chien battu, il est pas bien fringué mais quand il s’agit de dézinguer ou de sortir les punchlines, on peut compter sur lui. Marine Le Pen c’est Léa Seydoux : sans papa ou tonton, elles seraient jamais arrivés là. On voit sa tronche partout, même à l’étranger, et putain que c’est énervant. Clairement, leur plus grand talent c’est de faire croire qu’elles en ont. Dupont-Aignan c’est Véronique Genest (Julie Lescaut) : clairement, il y a un petit charme franchouillard, qui marche bien, surtout chez les vieux. Pendant longtemps, il est resté dans l’ombre de l’UMP comme elle est restée dans l’ombre de Maigret et Columbo sur TF1. Puis ils ont voulu que les gens votent directement pour eux, et c’est parti en couille.
III- Présidentielle et plats
Le Pen c’est une choucroute : bien blanche, un peu grasse, avec du porc dedans histoire que tout le monde ne puisse pas en manger et qui démolit le bide à chaque fois. Et comme une choucroute, ça passe mieux en buvant. Macron c’est un plat light à réchauffer au micro onde : c’est tiède, allégé en calories et en idées, et globalement personne n’est convaincu mais tout le monde se résout à l’utiliser une fois dans sa vie. Mélenchon c’est un chili con carne. C’est rouge et piquant. Avec ses relents sud-américains, tu kiffes bien quand t’en manges de temps en temps, mais à grosse dose il fait chier violemment. Hamon c’est du boulgour ou du quinoa : tu sais pas trop ce que c’est, à part que c’est supposé être bon pour toi, et t’en as déjà vaguement entendu parler mais tu sais plus où. Difficile de savoir ce qu’il y a dedans, ça a pas l’air mauvais mais ça te rappelle un peu trop les plats de cantine (ou le quinquennat Hollande) alors tu risques de passer ton tour. Fillon c’est un fish’n’chips : sans saveur, vieux, ennuyeux et complètement surestimé par quelques électeurs de droite et hipsters paumés. T’en as déjà mangé une fois, c’est sur, mais tu n’en gardes pas vraiment de souvenirs. Jean Lassalle c’est une garbure : c’est bien rustique, ça a une drôle de tronche sympathique, donc c’est du Sud-Ouest. C’est un mélange de tout et n’importe quoi pas désagréable, mais t’en manges jamais parce que tu sais pas où en trouver une bonne, comme tu te dis qu’il te fait marrer mais tu voteras pas pour lui parce que tu n’arrives pas à trouver une bonne proposition. Dupont-Aignan c’est une soupe à l’oignon : c’est bien de chez nous, ça se veut réconfortant et c’est le genre de plat qu’on regarde bizarrement à l’étranger. Tu l’apprécies parfois mais tu te rends compte que ça a toujours le même goût. Pas désagréable à sortir de temps en temps, mais répétitif au point de faire pleurer, ça sera jamais un plat favori. Jacques Cheminade c’est du gloubi-boulga : ça fait longtemps que c’est dans le coin, t’en as peut-être même entendu parler quand t’étais petit et que tes parents votaient en 95. Tu connais pas la recette mais tu sais qu’on met n’importe quoi dedans. ça a beau être super vieux, tout le monde continue à en rigoler. François Asselineau c’est un jambon beurre : plus français tu meurs, mais ça intéresse personne. ça essaie des fois de se rendre intéressant, mais ça ne plait qu’aux simples d’esprit. ça veut te faire croire que c’est révolutionnaire mais c’est des vieilles recettes. Philippe Poutou c’est un burrito avec extra piment : ça a parfois tendance à se faire un peu écraser, de l’extérieur ça a l’air inoffensif et doux, mais ça peut brûler sévère. Y a plein de trucs dedans que tu peux avaler quand c’est jeté ensemble comme quand il parle au débat, mais pris séparément ça perd tout son intérêt. Nathalie Arthaud c’est du pâté de tête : rouge, sanglant, et fait avec des morceaux de porc ou de patron, voilà un plat bien nourrissant pour les travailleurs exploités par le capital. C’est un truc bien français qui n’est pas bien méchant mais qui est regardé comme une curiosité exotique depuis l’étranger, parce qu’en 2017 on a plus besoin de manger de la tête de cochon, la guerre est finie depuis longtemps.
IV - Présidentielle et catégorie porno (on a pas réussi à la terminer, mais vos suggestions sont bienvenues !)
Macron : milf, évidemment. Fillon c’est un bukkake : Tout le monde se lâche sur lui, il prend tellement cher que tu te dis que ça va forcément s’arrêter à un moment, mais pourtant il est prêt à aller jusqu’au bout en souriant. Cheminade : Hamon : porno féministe. Troo en avance sur son temps pour fonctionner . Manque clairement de virilité. Arthaud c'est de l’allemand des années 80. Un carton à l'époque, essaie de subsister aujourd'hui mais les codes sont complètement obsolètes. Lassalle : Jacquie et Michel/amateur. C’est pas toujours très joli, mais au moins c’est de chez nous ! Mélenchon : bdsm. Avec un brin de bon sens tu sais que c'est l'exact opposé du plaisir mais il y en a qui y croient. Honnêtement comme tous les fantasmes, vaut mieux pas que ça devienne de l’ordre du reel. Le Pen c'est du trans : parce ce que burk Asselineau : les trucs moins de 16 ans qui passent à la télé tard le soir. Ça veut faire croire que c'est crédible alors que niveau scenario c'est au même niveau que le reste de l’industrie, voire pire. Reste globalement un truc assez obscur d’initiés un peu marginaux, du genre de ceux qui collectionnent les musiques de film X. NDA : du porno asiatique. Ça s'agite beaucoup, ça veut faire comme les grands, mais globalement quand il s'agit de monter en intensité ça pue l'impuissance. Poutou Pujadas c'est la femme d’Ardisson : tout le monde lui est passé dessus dans le milieu .
V - Présidentielle et véhicules
Cheminade est une fusée spatiale, évidemment. Poutou c’est une Lada, moche, grise mais increvable et qui est toujours là quand on en a besoin, même si elle a pas envie. Jean Lassalle c’est un tracteur, c’est rustique, y’a que les paysans qui comprennent comment ça marche, ça avance lentement et ça met du temps à démarrer mais quand c’est lancé, vaut mieux pas être sur son chemin. Ça a sûrement servi à écraser quelques animaux. Hamon c’est une bicyclette : tu sais qu’avec un peu de volonté il pourrait t’emmener loin mais tu te trouves toujours une excuse pour repousser l’expérience : un orage (financier) qui se profile, ta condition physique défaillante, le confort rudimentaire, et surtout l’envie de faire comme tes voisins et de sortir en 4x4. En bref tu te dis que c’est peut être condamné à rester un épiphénomène citadin pas tout à fait adapté au reste du pays, et c’est un peu dommage. Mélenchon c’est un skate. Ça avait l’air super cool quand t’avais 14 ans et que tu passais tes après-midi à zoner devant ton bahut en écoutant Bérurier Noir, Mano Negra et les Négresses Vertes, vans aux pieds, mais heureusement pour toi, tu t’es aperçu qu’en fait c’était un peu pourri bien avant ta majorité. Aujourd’hui t’as honte d’en parler et t’aimerais bien croire que t’es passé à autre chose avec ta vie bien rangée, mais parfois tu te demandes si tu vas pas faire une connerie et le sortir du placard avec ton vieux poster du Che. Fillon c’est une berline allemande, t’as cru en son discours basé sur la compétitivité coût et hors coût, la modération salariale et une rigueur à toute épreuve. Bref c’est sûr que c’est moins clinquant qu’une petite italienne, mais les patrons et la vieille bourgeoisie austère française ne jurent que par ça. En plus sous le capot il y a ce qu’il faut et puis faut bien dire qu’avec la puissance industrielle de la Rhur ou des Républicains t’as été habitué au solide. Puis un bon matin un scandale a éclaté et tu t’es aperçu que toutes ces histoires de Deutsh Qualitat non seulement c’était que du vent mais qu’en plus c’était même dangereux. Bref dorénavant que ce soit en politique ou en voiture, tu te méfieras du vendeur ou du militant qui te parlera du modèle allemand. Le Pen c’est un avion, ça fait 150 ans que ton beauf un peu raciste te dit que c’est le futur, alors que les “experts-technocrates-islamogauchistes-journalopes-du-système” essaient au contraire de sensibiliser sur les désastreuses conséquences. Ce gros truc pas très subtil qui veut se faire passer pour un bijou de technologie, c’est juste un charter sans coeur pour ramener les migrants d’où ils viennent. A la limite tu reconnais que c’est sympa pour visiter tes potes en low-cost à travers l’Europe, mais t’aimes vraiment pas ceux de Hongrie, d’Autriche ou d’Italie proches du FN. Macron c’est le covoiturage, on dirait une idée géniale comme ça mais en fait les gens ont pas attendu “les potentialités ouvertes par la révolution numérique et un monde hyper connecté de mes couilles” pour l’utiliser depuis des décennies. Du coup quand tu montes dans la voiture tu penses que tu vas rencontrer des jeunes sur-éduqués et éco-responsables alors qu’en fait tu te retrouves coincé entre Marie-Hélène dont le Touareg est en rade depuis janvier dernier et Moussa qui est pas fan mais qui veut tout faire pour éviter le charter. T’as aussi pu papoter avec Winston-Edouard, un hipster sympa et paumé qui a un peu honte d’avoir abandonné son Vélib mais qui a compris qu’il valait pas tripette sur les routes vallonnées de province, et le conducteur Roger, le franchouillard de base qui fait juste ça parce que c’est à la mode et qu’il a toujours été un peu radin. Asselineau c’est un scooter à trois roues avec un toit : c’est laid que ça en peut plus et complètement inutile, c’est trop gros pour passer entre les voitures mais tout aussi dangereux qu’un scooter normal. Tu te demandes comment ce truc là a pu un jour sortir de l’usine et quel idiot a pu le concevoir. Et le pire, c’est que certains en achètent. Arthaud c’est une Simca 1000 : il fût un temps, y en avait beaucoup, surtout chez les ouvriers. Aujourd’hui c’est presque une pièce de musée, mais on la ressort des fois pour se rappeler le bon vieux temps. Et on profite pour bien rigoler, comme dans la chanson des Chevaliers du fiel. Dupont-Aignan c’est un 2CV : bien français, très à la mode dans les années 70 mais complètement dépassé aujourd’hui. On en croise encore de temps en temps, ça nous fait sourire mais d’un autre côté on s’étonne que voir qu’il y a encore de rares personnes fascinés.
VI - Présidentielle et alcools
Cheminade c’est du Get 27, tes potes se foutent de ta gueule quand t’en ramènes, ça aime le vert (comme les martiens), et au final c’est gentillet, même quand tu le vomis ça sent la menthe. Poutou c’est du pastis, ça fait péquenaud du coin, ça a l’air de rien surtout que tu le dilues dans l’eau, mais le lendemain tu te rends compte qu’il t’a quand même méchamment attaqué et donné une sacrée gueule de bois. Arthaud c’est une Kronenbourg, c’est rigolo à boire de temps en temps, ça fait populaire, mais ça devient vite répétitif et ça fait pas mal éructer. Asselineau c’est une vodka Lidl, c’est pas bon, t’as vite fait le tour et tout ce que t’en retiens c’est que ça veut violemment sortir. Macron c’est du punch, c’est à la mode, c’est bien présenté et bien propre, ça sent bon, mais au final tu sais pas vraiment ce qu’il y a dedans et comment c’est dosé. Et du coup vu que tu sens pas l’alcool, tu le bois sans problèmes et t’as de fortes chances de te réveiller le lendemain sans savoir pourquoi t’as soudainement mal au cul. Le Pen c’est du rouge qui tâche, chaque fois que tu le bois tu te sens obligé de sortir le saucisson et t’es tout fier d’être français. Mais quand t’y réfléchis, ton pinard il est quand même un peu rance et sûrement bouchonné, et tu veux pas vraiment voir la gueule du tanin. Lassalle c’est une bouteille de Stroh. Quand tu la bois, tu comprends pas trop ce qu’il t’arrive mais il te prend une soudaine envie de chier sur la nature. Fillon c’est du rosé pamplemousse. Quand tu ramènes ça en soirée, tu peux pas t’empêcher d’avoir honte, du coup tu te terres dans un coin en espérant que personne te fera la remarque. Ta seule ligne de défense si tu te fais repérer, c’est “oui mais quand je vous regarde boire, on voit bien que personne ne pense à l’état de son foie”. Mélenchon c’est un jagerbomb. Quand tu les enchaînes, t’as une sacrée pêche et t’es prêt à aller jusqu’au bout de la night, mais t’es tellement excité que la moitié de tes potes arrêtent de t’adresser la parole et t’arrives pas à comprendre pourquoi. Hamon c’est le résultat d’une partie de King, ou un tout-à-l’égout comme dans le sketch des Inconnus. Tu sens bien qu’il y a de l’idée, que tu tiens peut-être le cocktail du futur et que tout le monde y a mis du sien. Mais bizarrement quand vient le moment de le tester, il y a plus grand monde d’intéressé. Dupont-Aignan c’est une bouteille de champagne au Nouvel An. Tu la ramènes plein de bonne volonté, tu te dis que tu l’as quand même payée bien cher et qu’elle te permettra de briller et de montrer comment t’es riche et t’as des bons goûts à tous tes potes. Sauf qu’au moment où tu la présentes, tout le monde a déjà trop bu, et à peine tu l’ouvres que tes potes s’emparent de la bouteille et la boivent cul-sec comme une bouteille de Kro. Pas grave, tu retenteras le coup l’an prochain.
VII - Présidentielle et films
Macron : L’auberge espagnole, évidemment. Des PS, des UDI, des guérinistes, des chiraquiens, Renaud, Villani, Bayrou, et même un sénateur LR... n’importe quoi. Et au milieu de ça, t’as un jeune séducteur qui essaie de se taper une maman pendant la moitié du film. Le pire c’est que malgré le peu de profondeur du personnage, il y arrive. Cheminade : Mars Attacks. Il a un charme vieillot qui fait qu’il nous est sympathique, même si c’est du grand n’importe quoi. On rigole bien avec ses aliens mais c’est parfois trop invraisemblable. Arthaud : Germinal. Les travailleurs qui crèvent à 40 ans, les patrons salauds et et les bourgeois violeurs, noir et blanc, la politique c’est aussi simple que ça. Dupont-Aignan : Le Père Noël est une ordure. C’était marrant au début, mais à force d’entendre toujours les mêmes trucs régulièrement, on commence en à avoir un peu marre Le Pen : La Vague. Quand tu le regardes, tu dis “putain c’est fou comme on peut se laisser embrigader, mais bon c’est juste un film, ça arrivera jamais”. Mais après, t’y repenses et tu serres les fesses. Jean Lassalle : Les collègues. Du grand n’importe quoi avec un accent incompréhensible pour 90% des français, mais quand on comprend on se marre bien. Mélenchon c’est La ligne rouge : en le regardant tu sais que tu vas pas être déçu. Tout comme Méluche, ce film n’a pas son pareil pour alterner scènes contemplatives poétiques et moment de gore où lance-flamme et gros calibres sont de sortie. Enfin, cette campagne qui ressemble quand même à un dernier baroud d’honneur, fait écho au fait qu’après celui-là, Terence Malik n’a plus sorti que des bouses. Hamon : Tomorrowland. Ça se veut optimiste sur le futur, la technologie et tout, mais tout le monde lui met des bâtons dans la roue et ça subit des trahisons dans son propre camp. L’intention est bonne, on a envie d’y croire parfois, mais le propos est maladroit. Le casting est bon mais pas assez bien géré et le poids de la maison mère est parfois trop présent, surtout quand elle persiste à faire du placement de produit. Fillon c’est L’aile ou la cuisse : on te fait croire que c’est de la cuisine authentique du terroir alors qu’en fait c’est de l’industriel dégueulasse. L’aile ou la cuisse aussi, parce que comme Coluche dans le film, tu sens que malgré toute sa bonne volonté (et sa mauvaise foi) le mec a pas les épaules pour prendre la suite du patriarche, tu sais le petit excité qui gigote partout avec ses tics et qui nous faisait rire. Du coup le mélange tragicomique pourrait passer, mais ça reste une comédie française, ça a pas vocation à être nominé aux oscars ou au 2e tour. Asselineau : JFK d'Oliver Stone, quand tu le regardes, ça a l'air crédible et c'est bien organisé, mais quand t'y réfléchis c'est juste un vieux fond de complotisme hérité des années 60. Poutou c’est Avengers 2 (Age of Ultron) : dans la continuité d’une tradition qui commence à dater, on a parfois senti que c’était un peu forcé mais on passe un bon moment. Quelques scènes d’action bien percutantes, mais un scénario peu crédible.
VIII - Présidentielle et super-héros
Fillon c’est Batman : il veut se faire passer pour le justicier sans reproche qui va rétablir l’ordre (ou les finances ?) chez lui, mais il a une vision assez personnelle de la justice. Au début il te faisait bander avec son côté dark et incompris, mais ça va François on a compris que tes parents (ou ta Penelope ?) sont mal en point. Bref il gagnerait à se dérider un peu et à trouver un side kick un peu moins creux Macron c’est Superman : parce que la Picardie c’est au moins aussi paumé que Krypton, qu’ils sont tous les deux super chiants et que pourtant à la fin ils ont de grandes chances de mettre tout le monde d’accord dans la Ligue des justiciers Lassalle c’est pas le Flash : pourtant ça lui aurait bien servi pour faire son tour de France à pied Poutou c’est Hulk : inoffensif en interview quand il doit être calme et logique, il a tout éclaté quand il a piqué une grosse colère dans le débat. T’as kiffé, mais autant dire que sur le long terme tu fais pas confiance à un mec aussi instable Arthaud c’est Captain America : elle revient d’un passé révolu où le communisme a pris des produits dopants, elle a des références carrément datées, mais on peut pas lui enlever qu’elle est toujours aussi énergique qu’à l’époque. Le Pen c’est Thor : elle représente le bon aryen, et d’ailleurs la fois où on a décidé de mettre un noir dans son film ça a fait polémique. Elle ne répond pas à la justice de notre monde, et elle est du genre à poser les pieds sur la table. A l’entendre on a l’impression que c’est la seule à pouvoir empêcher l’invasion d’Asgard. Hamon c’est Green Lantern : son pouvoir c’est de pouvoir créer plein de choses par la force de sa pensée, mais manque de bol il a coulé au box-office. Asselineau c’est le Punisher : il a plus qu’un objectif dans la vie, c’est la vengeance contre l’Europe et il reculera devant rien pour y parvenir. Et il a fallu attendre cette année pour qu’on lui trouve enfin un acteur convenable. Cheminade c’est Wolverine : t’as l’impression qu’il est là depuis 20 ans, il serait temps qu’il prenne sa retraite parce que le concept commence à fatiguer. Mélenchon c’est Spider-Man : il aime le rouge et il est super bon pour balancer des punchlines même si des fois il te paraît un peu immature voire colérique. Au final tout le monde le trouve sympathique même si au fond on se dit rarement que c’est notre super-héros préféré. Ses résultats sont très imprévisibles selon les films/campagnes, mais dans l’ensemble il est plutôt bankable. NDA c’est les 4 fantastiques : il ressort de temps en temps juste le temps de palper les chèques et de faire jouer sa marque, mais à chaque fois c’est la grosse déception. T’as plus beaucoup d’espoirs pour son avenir.
IX - Présidentielle et enseignes de distribution
Macron c'est Monoprix : sous des aspects "cools", "branchitude", "lol" et "fun" c'est plus ou moins toujours la même merde que chez les autres, mais mieux packagée et marketée. Et en plus c’est cher ! NDA c'est Franprix : c'est un peu une curiosité aujourd'hui. Il était indémodable il y a quelques dizaines d'années, comme le gaullisme, mais aujourd'hui on en voit très peu et dedans ça sent pas très frais. Et malgré son manque d'originalité ça se permet d'être cher. Reste une valeur sûre dans les villes bourgeoises et hors de prix (genre Aix) Le Pen c'est Casino : ça veut te faire croire que c'est resté la petite épicerie typique, magnifiée par la nostalgie et qui ne peut pas lutter à armes égales avec les majors de la grande distribution alors qu'en fait c'est une multinationale, particulièrement bien implantée en Alsace et qui se torche le cul avec les aspirations des consommateurs de base Fillon c’est Auchan : ça se la joue l’entreprise familiale à la française, limite trop familiale, mais en réalité ça détourne des fonds ou ça paie ses impôts en Belgique. Hamon c’est Amazon Go, ça s’est lancé un peu trop tôt et ça marche pas vraiment mais l’idée est là et y’a pas à dire, c’est le futur. En plus ça parle de la robotisation du travail. Cheminade c’est presque Leclerc : l’un revendique les plus petits prix, l’autre le plus petit nombre d’électeurs. Lassalle c’est le marché du Sud-Ouest : tu comprends pas tout quand on te parle, mais l’ambiance est plutôt sympa même si t’es pas sur à 100% de savoir ce que tu manges. Arthaud c’est un kolkhoze : exploiter des travailleurs pour que d’autres travailleurs exploités gaspillent le fruit de leur exploitation pour engraisser les capitalistes ? et puis quoi encore ? Poutou c’est Lidl : c’est pas cher, c’est pas toujours de bonne qualité et c’est pour les pauvres, mais sur certains points ça fait plaisir, surtout quand t’es jeune Asselineau c’est la supérette qui est supposé être ouverte 24/24 mais que tu vois jamais avec le rideau levé : ça balance des chiffres et ça se veut sérieux, mais y a que des mecs bizarres qui rentrent là-dedans et ça sent un peu la drogue Mélenchon c’est un supermarché associatif : y a de bonnes idées, mais dans l’ensemble c’est quand même pas mal compliqué. Tu voudrais bien y aller mais finalement ça te parait irréaliste alors tu laisses tomber. En plus faut être nombreux pour que ça marche, mais y a que les gens qui ont le temps qui y vont (les vieux, les chômeurs, les bobos et les étudiants)
X - Présidentielle et super-vilains (pas eu le temps de finir non plus)
Le Pen c’est l’épouvantail : elle a le pouvoir de faire peur à tout le monde. Par contre pas besoin de gaz pour être nauséabonde, il suffit qu'elle parle du vel’ d’hiv’ Cheminade Mélenchon NDA Lassalle Macron c'est Ozymandias : il va t’enculer, c'est sûr mais tu hésites à savoir si c'est pour ton propre bien Asselineau Arthaud c'est Mister Freeze : plus aucune crédibilité depuis les années 90 (coucou Arnold) et pourtant y avait du potentiel Poutou Hamon Fillon
XI - Présidentielle et objets
Asselineau c’est un plug anal : tout le monde en a pas, mais tu sais que ceux qui en ont forment une communauté assez soudée. En général, ceux qui l’achètent adorent se faire mal au cul sans raison. Fillon c’est une télé, un truc de vieux aigris qui te disent que de leur temps, quand il y avait que l’ORTF et le Général c’était mieux et qui te disent d’ouvrir un livre quand tu traines sur internet alors qu’ils savent pas ce que ça veut dire SF et que la seule émission culturelle qu’ils regardent c’est le JT de Pernaut. Quoi qu’il en soit son quotidien serait quand même meilleur si Cash investigation arrêtait de lui chercher des noises pour une histoire de juste prix avec sa famille en or. Tout le monde veut prendre sa place, mais lui sait qu’on ne peut pas plaire à tout le monde et c’est son choix. Arthaud c’est une faucille : il y a très longtemps, ça a pu être utile à quelques-uns, et encore on peut en douter. Aujourd’hui c’est devenu un symbole qu’on ressort de temps en temps, sans trop savoir pourquoi ni vraiment à quoi ça sert. Cheminade c’est un minitel : tout à fait français, il a des raisons d’en vouloir aux Américains. A l’époque on se demandait si c’était vraiment ça l’avenir et y en a qui y ont cru, mais aujourd’hui il faut vraiment être marginal pour s’en servir. Ou alors être le genre de geek qui vénère le vintage et qui croit encore à la beauté du geste plus qu’à l’efficacité. Poutou c’est un barbecue : idéal pour aller avec un apéro un peu arrosé après la fête de l’huma ou pour une merguez dans une grève CGT, le barbecue Poutou marche au poil, à condition de bien souffler sur le braises si le vent tourne. Le Pen c’est tout ton mobilier de jardin réuni en un : elle commence par tailler les journalistes au sécateur pour faire bonne figure. Elle sait que c’est grâce à ça qu’elle va ratisser large quand il y aura besoin. Elle a beau t’enfumer comme ta tronçonneuse thermique quand tu la sors, tu sais que si elle applique son programme tu finiras complètement tondu. NDA c’est une horloge à coucou : il parait que c’était très à la mode il y a des décennies, mais aujourd’hui même tes grand-parents n’en ont pas. On en croise périodiquement dans les marchés et les brocantes, ça nous fait marrer mais personne en achète jamais à part quelques passionnés. Ça prend beaucoup de place pour son utilité et ça répète toujours la même chose aux mêmes périodes. Mélenchon c’est une kalashnikov : pas toujours très précis, mais solide et efficace pour dézinguer tous tes adversaires d’un coup. On se demande s’il n’a pas été fabriqué en Russie. On en entend régulièrement parler dans les médias, mais mais on est loin d’être sur de vouloir s’en servir. Macron c’est un jeu d’échecs parce que pour bien y jouer soit il faut être un génie, soit il faut être du sérail et en maîtriser les codes en ayant appris le plus de tactiques par coeur et en sachant quand les appliquer. La question qui demeure c’est, une fois élu sera-t-il plutôt cavalier servant ou fou du roi au service de la finance. Lassalle c’est un moulin à café : ah le vieux moulin à café de chez ta grand-mère de Bagnère de Bigores, tu l’adores. Si vénérable et malgré ça, il a toujours l’air de marcher, comme ces vieux objets faits en France du temps de nos grand-parents, avant l’obsolescence programmée et la désindustrialisation, savent si bien le faire. En le voyant tu te prends à rêver : pas besoin de toute cette foutue technologie pour bien vivre, à bas l’ultra modernité, vive le temps long ! Tu le dépoussières patiemment en imaginant à quoi il ressemblera, une fois qu’il aura recouvré son lustre d’antan, tu le bichonnes, tu lui passes tous ses défauts, cette fois c’est sûr tu as une certitude dans ta vie ! Et puis tu l’essaies pour de vrai, et c’est le drame, tu saisis la réalité : si ça fait 20 ans au moins qu’il a plus servi c’est parce qu’il est complètement dépassé et c’est pas toi qui y changera quoi que ce soit. Bravo l’ancien, on va te garder bien exposé encore deux semaines pour le style et pour service rendu et puis on te remontera au grenier…. Ou à la casse. Hamon c’est un bouquin : si on avait un peu de motiv’ on pourrait bien s’en servir, mais chez la plupart des gens il est juste utilisé pour caler une porte ou une table et on l’oublie là.
2468.05.25 Camp Armadillo 10:03hrs The drop ship made contact on the pad and settled onto its landing gear as the loading ramp began to open. Docs Chatom and Holiday carried their bloody cargo down to a waiting medical team from the Navy Medial Center. The nurses and doctors huddled around the gurney and took battered man away as soon as he was set down on the gurney. Abadi had gone silent during the trip back to Armadillo, his suit and the two corpsmen continuing to work as it became more and more hopeless as Abadi's scarlet blood had began to take on a lighter and lighter hue from the amount of substitute pumping through his vein. Sam watched the med center staff wheel him away from the top of the loading ramp, his armor flecked with the blood of the insurgent he had killed. Michelle and Abraham waited for him to step back down into the dirt as he removed his helmet. “What happened out there?” Michelle began, running a hand down his face. “Your Uplinks went down for ten minutes.” Sam continued on, giving a tight smile “Interference from the jungle canopy. I’m fine, it’s Abadi I’m worried about.” Sam said, carefully watching his emotions as he left out the murder he had committed in the bush. Killing Minyari and insurgents that were threatening his life or the lives of his marines was one thing, but killing a helpless man was another and it made Sam sick to his stomach with anger at what he had done. In his heart though, he knew he was only getting started. The look on Michelle's face told him she didn't believe a word he said, it was the same look her father had given them on Luna. If anyone could connect the dots, it was her. "I need to be with my marines right now Michelle. I'll keep you and Abraham in the loop when I go to meet Le Clerc." Sam said, running a clean armored hand down her side. She gave him a smile and a sincere look. The Spearpoint team disembarked and made their way with recon to the dugout to strip off their armor. They could clean and service them later; there was one friend to mourn as it was and another close behind. All sense of bravado had left them, and recon and raider confided in themselves over the day’s events. Vilks took it upon himself to collect the belongings of the killed Recon sergeant, moving a pair of boots and a rifle to the far corner to act as a memorial. The Spearpoint operators quickly stripped themselves of their armor as they ran to go check on their wounded brother, Song even more so, he had known Abadi the longest and was the first out the door. Sam stepped into his armorer station and peeled himself from his suit. Spinal connections and shoulder stubs disengaged as he pulled the body glove down from his neck, shivering as the cool air of the dugout washed over his bare skin. He quickly changed into a set of green BDU’s, pulling his revolver from his armor and returning it to his shoulder holster, his axe came next, blade sitting at his thigh. Sam left the dugout just as the Recon marines finished the shrine to their fallen comrade and broke out their tin pot hooch. He’d leave his marines to their own devices, there was a pirate to speak too. Zachariah stood beside a waiting ground buggy, dressed in UIS fatigues, the Minyari almost looked like a normal person, besides the glowing eyes and metal arms. “I heard what happened out there, I feel for your marine Samuel.” He said, his cigarette burning down in his fingers. Sam waved him off and took the driver’s seat, pressing the ignition and shifting the 4x4 into drive. “He’ll live, he has too. I haven’t given him permission to die yet.” Sam said, staring ahead as Zachariah sat beside him. Sam pressed down on the accelerator and the buggy took off, weaving through tired and dusty line marines. Stopping to let an ambulance pass by and light a cigarette. “I did something out there Dillion.” Sam said somberly, weaving thorough the entry and exit gate traffic. The Minyari didn’t say anything, just letting Sam talk. “We captured a Neo-Bolshevik after our ambush. Old guy, maybe late fifties. Scrawny thing.” Sam took a pull on his cigarette and let it hang from his mouth. “We get ambushed back, Vilks’ has a man go down, then Abadi gets fucked. I pulled that old man out into the clearing and shot him. Not cleanly either.” Zachariah nodded, lighting another cigarette. “You know how many people I killed in the SDG?” he began, bouncing as the buggy went over a hole in the road. “Dozens. Some deserved it, others didn’t, but I did what was necessary. Something you need to learn. “ Sam gave the cyborg a sideways glance, and then refocused on the road into Libertatia. “I’m serious. I did unspeakable things in the group, being as necessary as they were at the time, part of the reason I went along with Anders was in my mind, a chance at redemption.” Dillion looked to the sky as he let out a cloud of smoke “You’ll know you’ve gone to far when you don’t have that nagging sense of guilt in the pit of your stomach.” The 4x4 bounced again and settled, tires biting into the hard packed dirt road as they entered into Libertatia. The settlement was split into thirds, with the spaceport and repair facilities taking up the northern section, the other two were a hodgepodge of brothels, bars, small casinos, and a large market place where the pirates would hawk their bloody and stolen wares or buy supplies for their next raid. Throngs of pirate crews and their hangers-on of prostitutes, slum children, and degenerates of all creeds wandered through the streets, browsing through the stalls of different goods. “Liberated” UIS and Minyari weapons and armor, industrial equipment, drugs, and what ever else was selling at the moment. Sam turned the 4x4 down a small side road and continued down it for several blocks. The signage in the ally ways betraying their true purpose. Hidden from plain view, the slaving dens were just as busy as the main market place. Big Brother may have been next door, but the slavers of Temper hid their living wares with care. To busy dealing with the Minyari and the Neo-Bolsheviks, the UIS had turned a blind eye to the buying and selling of flesh. “Disgusting…” Sam said, turning his head as they passed a live auction. “Wherever we go, we always take our bullshit.” Dillion craned his neck as they drove past, looking over the crowd of buyers and sellers, and shook his head. “We might need to pay this place a visit before we leave.” “Agreed.” Sam said, pulling the 4x4 into the parking lot of the Hotel Rouge and coming to a stop in front of the large glass doors of the lobby. The Hotel Rouge had been one of the first permanent buildings in Libertatia when it had been a simple farming settlement, years before the influx of roving pirate gangs and slavers. Built to resemble a 20th century French colonial manor, it clashed with the cheap prefab buildings around it. Once the settlement had gone belly up, the locals turned it into a luxury hotel for the richest of their numbers. Just looking at it made Sam angry, even more so when he stepped inside to vaulted ceilings and crystal chandeliers. “I hate this place already. Sam said, walking past two hired guns without a second glance, Dillion trotting beside him. “Another thing we can agree on. I don’t understand the fascination with the gold leaf.” He said, smirking as they stepped into the Hotel’s lounge, which was filled the upper echelons of pirate society. Sam scanned the area with his eye, picking up the tell tale signs of pistols, knives, and sawed off shotguns. There was even a bejeweled sword on the hip of a rather angry looking woman as she argued with their contact, Le Clerc. “God damnit Le Clerc, we agreed to a sixty/forty split, and you give me the crumbs!? Bullshit, you’re a dirty liar and a cheat. Good luck counting on my ships next time you want to raid, you pompous French fuck.” The woman took a step forward and kicked the low table Le Clerc was using to the ground, spilling its crystal glasses and bottle of real champagne to the floor. Le Clerc didn’t do much more than glance down at it as he leaned back to twirl his mustache and rest a hand on the gold plated pistol at his hip. “Madame Sinclair, had I known how angry you’d get, we should have filled out a true contract.” He said through a fake smile, “As you’re aware my letter of marque allows me to contract out jobs to the lesser gangs, and in doing so, the letter holder, ME, is given the right to distribute the spoils as he sees fit. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice your ships sitting in the back, just waiting for the battle to end?” The pirate matron pulled her sword and held it a breath from Le Clerc’s nose. “How dare you insult my crews to my face you—“ No less then ten heavily armed pirates pulled their weapons and trained them on the stone-faced woman. She glanced around the room at the grouped firepower and sheathed her sword. “This isn’t over Le Clerc, you better watch yourself out in the black.” She said, giving him an evil look as she stepped away. “That I’m sure of Madame Sinclair, good day.” Le Clerc said, a devilish grin flashing across his face. With a twirl of her cape she turned away, brushing past Sam and Dillion as she went. Her hushed insults at Le Clerc's parentage following her out the main doors. Sam and Dilion approached only to be stopped by Le Clerc bodyguards as a young girl cleaned up the mess at his feet. Sam went to brush past, but a handgun to the stomach was more than enough to stop him, especially while being outnumbered. “Antony, please, let them through. I called them here.” The large bodyguard slipped his weapon back into his coat and stepped to the side, allowing Sam and Dillion to pass through unmolested. “Major Dillion, so nice to see you again, it has been too long.” Le Clerc Said, pushing the young servant girl way with a tray of broken glasses. “ Please join me would you and what’s this that you’ve defected?” “Good to see you as well Michel, it’s a long story. I hope this war hasn’t harmed your profits?” Dillion said, sitting and taking an offered cigar. Sam gave the pirate lord a long hard look. He had hunted this man for years, even came close in getting him on more than one occasion in an effort to make him pay for his crimes against the people of the Frontier. But yet here he was, fighting for the very government he’d stolen from for years and being paid handsomely to do it. That now familiar feeling of rage was beginning to bubble to the surface, and Sam unconsciously moved his hand to his axe. “On the contrary, I’ve never made so much money in such a short time. The Inner System’s offer was too good to pass up.” Le Clerc said, taking a new glass of champagne from the young servant girl. “That’s good to hear, maybe now you can afford better tastes in clothing.” Dillion said, chiding the flamboyant Frenchman’s choice in everyday wear. This brought a laugh to Le Clerc lips as he sipped his glass, setting it down and sitting up. “And I see you’ve brought a friend…a very important friend it seems.” Le Clerc said, looking over to Sam, matching his hard stare. “I must admit Hawkins, I do find it ironic that we’re having this conversation. Last time we saw each other was that raid on my anchorage in the Alaska system, do you remember?” “Yeah, I remember. I remember I killed your first officer too, or was he your lover? It’s been to long, and the details are kinda fuzzy.” Sam replied, keeping eye contact as Le Clerc leaned forward. “That it was…” Dillion cleared his throat on an effort to bring the task at hand back into the conversation. “Now, now, that’s neither here or there. Hawkins and I are here for one reason. You have the whereabouts of General Zustra here on Temper, don’t you?” “Le Clerc smiled again as he leaned back into his seat. “That I do. She contacted me via a Neo-Bolshevik courier. She wants transport off world through the Inner Systems blockade. Offered me a large sum of money to do it too.” “And did you accept?” Dillion asked, puffing away on his cigar. “I did.” “Excuse me?!” Sam shouted, as he stood, hand resting on his axe’s safety catch. The bodyguards surrounding them pulled their weapons again and a cluster of laser sights came to life over Sam’s heart. Le Clerc put a hand up and lowered the closest bodyguard’s weapon. “No need to yell Hawkins. If you must know, the money hasn’t cleared yet, and I only work once I’ve been paid. She’s still here.” Sam cooled slightly as he took his seat once again. “Where is she?” Sam asked, his hand finally coming away from his axe. “The far north, past the lines, sitting comfy in the Minayri command base. She said she has an important meeting that can’t wait for Republic reinforcements.” Sam and Dillion both gave each other knowing looks. “When does the money clear?” Dillion asked, “Group funds are backed and guaranteed by the Central Bank. Can’t be more then a week to reach out here.” Le Clerc threw his hands up and nodded. “I know, something I’m aware of when I did business with you. Tomorrow most likely.” “Give us everything you have on her location. Security codes, air patrols, anything she gave you, I want it.” Sam said, Dillion also nodding his head in agreement. “Of course, anything to assist the home government in their fight against tyranny.” Le Clerc said laughing and twisting his mustache. Sam stood and looked down at the pirate lord, giving him one last staredown. “You may be a part of this now but know this Le Clerc. I remember what you did; I remember the bodies in the black. When this war ends, I will come after you again. You can bet your life on it.” Le Clerc nodded and rose his glass in a toast. “Then lets hope this war never ends my good man, and if it does, good luck and happy hunting. You’ll need it.” Dillion stood next and stamped out his cigar. “Michel, always a pleasure.” The pirate lord gave the cyborg a friendly nod and the wall of bodyguards parted for the two of them to leave. Together, Sam and Dillion made their way back to the 4x4. Pulling out of the lot and going back the way they had come, stopping outside the slave auction and waiting. With a single confirmation, Spearpoint rounded the corner, dressed down with their weapons hidden beneath simple cloaks. Sam and Dillion exited the 4x4 and walked to the main door of the building. Sam flipped the safety latch on his axe and thumbed the heating element. The hired gun didn’t see the searing hot blade until it met his shoulder and carved down into his chest, Sam looked him in the eyes as he brought up a boot and kicked him off the edge of the blade. Dead before he hit the ground, the other gun took a silenced pistol shot to the face and crumpled. Sam took the offered shotgun from Michelle and stacked up beside the door. Sigursdottir pulled her own two handed axe and went to breach. The large axe turned red from the heat and she cleaved through the weak aluminum door with a single swipe. Sam pushed in and put a shell of buckshot into a slaver’s neck, taking his head from his shoulders and pumped the action as the rest of Spearpoint rushed in, weapons barking and dropping more slavers. In the open courtyard, buyers and sellers shouted as their bodyguards went to pull their weapons, cracks from Kusnetsov’s sniper rifle picked off the most obvious holders as the rest of Spearpoint swept inside. Slaves in their pens cheered as they rushed the gates and attempted to break through the locks. While handlers attempted to quell their newfound vigor with stun sticks and gunshots. Sam closed the distance to the nearest pen and took the head of its handler with his axe. With another swing, the cage’s locking mechanism was taken off, and a rush of grateful Humanity flooded out. Many went straight for their masters and pulled them limb from limb in a frenzy of violence. Others fell to their knees in thanks as Spearpoint cleaned up the rest of the still living slavers. The owner of the auction locked himself in his panic room, leaving his clients to take the brunt of the death and destruction. Sam tapped his axe on the thick steel doors several times. “This isn’t going to end well for you.” Sam started, as he motioned for Obie to begin planting charges along the door’s hinges. “Slavery is illegal in the United Inner Systems, and it seems most of your product are citizens of said government. Now, you can come out under your own power, or I can come in there and pull you out myself, your choice.” The owner said nothing and the doors remained sealed. Sam shook his head as Obie handed him the detonator. “Ok, we’ll do it my way. Stand back everyone, and get those kids out of here, this isn’t going to be pretty.” Michelle and O’Hara wrangled the children and moved them over through the carnage of the courtyard as Don and Obie pulled back around the corner. Sam moved to join them and thumbed the detonator. Two muffled thumps later; the thick steel doors fell inwards, revealing a disoriented obese man as he lay on the floor bleeding from small shrapnel wounds. Sam stepped over the door and drew his revolver as he stood over the bleeding man. Dillion and Don following him in as they took stock of the room, with its rich tapestries and gold livery. “Mr…Youssef?” Sam said, waiting for his uplink to tell him who the man was. “I find you guilty of human trafficking.” The fat man could barely croak out a word before Sam finished for him. “Your testimony is noted. I’m sure you’re aware of the penalty that comes with your crime yes?” Sam looked back over his shoulder at Dillion and Don. They cyborg nodded his head while Don gave a solemn look and turned to leave the room. The blood rushed from the fat man’s face as Sam cocked his weapon’s hammer. “NO! WAIT PLEA---.” The rest of the cry was lost to time as Sam pulled the trigger.
Hi my name is Rgb002 and I am a trading addict. It all started last year, I started my year 1-5 before making four key trades getting to 6-6 and winning the league. Ever since that moment, I have not been able to help myself when it comes to making trades. So far I have made 29 acquisitions and 18 trades and I am completely unable to stop. My team is currently 6-1 with my only loss coming in the first week; I am in first place with a 2 game lead and still cannot stop myself from tinkering and changing my team. The league I am in is a group of my buddies from my high school football team, 10 team standard ESPN rules starting QB, 2 RB, RB/WR, 2 WR, WTE, TE, D/ST and a K (with 8 bench spots), everyone is very active in the group and the waivers are usually barren. I am here to detail my journey through this season, get some advice on when to know enough is enough, and maybe help others with my same affliction. It all starts with the draft, every year we rent a poolside cabana at a casino and have a live draft, you are allowed one sheet of paper with notes and that’s it, no outside help. To select our draft order we go to the strip club the Friday night before the draft, we all write our names on dollar bills and have the strippers select them at random (nothing to do with the story, just wanted to share a creative way to handle draft order). At the draft I immediately began dealing; I wanted the 10th pick desperately. The 10th pick guarantees you two of the top rbs in the draft or megatron. Of course, I got the 9th pick and knew I had to get out of it but unfortunately I wasn’t able to. My drafted team went as follows (in order)- Trent Richardson (I wanted Shady McCoy, he went a pick in front of me), Calvin Johnson , Jimmy Graham, Eddie Lacy, RG3, Lamar Miller, Pierre Garcon, Deangelo Williams, Michael Vick, Daryl Richardson, Deandre Hopkins, Antonio Gates, Kenbrell Thompkins, Malcolm Floyd, Ronnie Hillman, Pats D/ST and David Akers. The draft went ok, I was unhappy drafting a wr and te that high and my qb situation was a mess. I’m not sure if it was the beer or just being cocky but I was determined to not leave the casino without completely reshaping my team. My first two trades could not have gone better or worse, I traded with our commissioner, my Daryl Richardson for his James Jones. I was happy I hated Richardson; I knew it would be a time share at best; of course some asshole told our commish and informed him of this before the trade got pushed through. I received the dreaded VETO! Pissed but determined to move this fucker I made what I believe was an even better trade, Daryl Richardson for Desean Jackson. I completely trade raped this guy, I knew it, he didn’t know it until that same Mofo that got the other one vetoed pulled the exact same shit. Again, I received the dreaded VETO! This infuriates me; this is when I completely lose it and my set out to make the biggest trade possible. My third trade made my year, my Trent Richardson, Lamar Miller and Calvin Johnson for his Marshawn Lynch, Frank Gore and Randall Cobb. Finally one went through, this was highway robbery I got the backs I wanted but I am still not happy with my team. This is when things go south for me; I trade Jimmy Graham and Eddie Lacy for Ridley and Andre Johnson. In defense of my trade, I never wanted Graham and Lacy was just a rookie that wasn’t even guaranteed to start yet, Ridley was a top 10 back the previous year and I am a Texans fan so of course I have a man crush on Dre. I get back on track with my next trade, my Deandre Hopkins, Daryl Richardson (finally got rid of him) and Stevan Ridley for Ray Rice, Greg Olsen and Brian Hartline. I have completely rebuilt my team on draft day and can leave the casino pretty proud of myself…until week one. In week one I lose 101-105, all I had to do was go with my gut and start Julius Thomas (who I got on the waiver wire before the game) over Greg Olsen and I would have won the game easily. But I didn’t and I had to accept my loss and move on. I immediately hit the trade market like a rabid dog. At this point I am extremely high on Julius Thomas so Gates becomes expendable so I decide to make another stupid trade, Gates for Mark Ingram. I bought into the preseason hype and thought he would establish himself as the lead dog in New Orleans; he was on the waiver wire two weeks later. My next trade doesn’t fare much better, my Gore and Deangelo Williams for his CJ Spiller and Bernard Pierce. At this point of the year Gore had been struggling mightily and Spiller wasn’t a gigantic bust yet, so I pull the trigger and completely missed the target. I win the week 122-105, thank you Michael Vick and Beastmode. Going into the following week I felt like I didn’t need to make a deal but if a good one came along I would be all ears, well a good one came along. My Ray Rice (fresh off a 1 point game and leaving with a hip injury) Randall Cobb, Julius Thomas, RG3 and Pierce for his Shady McCoy (another one of my man crushes), Torrey Smith, Gronk, Bryce Brown and Michael Floyd. I took it just for Shady and haven’t regretted it since. I then traded Olsen and Willis Mcgahee (the day he actually signed with the browns) for James Jones and Julian Edelman. Before the ink was even dry on that deal I shipped Edelman and Coby Fleener for Jordan Cameron and Leveon Bell. Cameron went on to win me the week with 3 Tds 96-87. An important thing yall should know about me is I don’t care if I win or lose the week as long as my team shows up, if I don’t get above 100 I am pissed. It’s time for me to make some moves, but of course I can’t get a single deal done this week. I still end up winning the week 120-115, a little better but there are still moves to make. Week 5 I make a small move, trading Bell and Woodhead for RG3 and David Wilson. Vick had just hurt his hamstring so I needed to make a move for a qb. I win the week 110-80, mostly thanks to picking up the niners D. But this was just setting up possibly the craziest week of trading I have ever seen. Week 6, it all starts innocently enough, I want to improve my receivers so I trade David Wilson (good riddance), Jordan Cameron and Brian Hartline for Tony Gonzalez, Eric Decker and Daryl Richardson (fuck, this guy again). To have our trades processed both parties have to text our commissioner telling him to send it through, when I text my commissioner to send it through he immediately asks what I want for Tony G. I then trade Tony G and Daryl Richardson (thank God) to him for MJD and Mike Wallace. I immediately regret picking up MJD and know I need to move for a better back so I take the two players I just received, MJD and Mike Wallace with CJ Spiller for Demarco Murray and Vernon Davis, this trade is with my opponent for the week. I am very happy with Davis but I want to move Murray before he gets hurt. I proceed to flip him with an injured Mike Vick for Tom Brady and Alfred Morris, of course Murray gets hurt this week and I dodge a gigantic bullet. The moves don’t stop there; I trade James Jones for Deandre Hopkins and Stevan Ridley. I wanted to buy low on Ridley and again I’m a Texans homer. Ridley doesn’t stick around for long; I turn him, Torrey Smith and Pierre Garcon into Calvin Johnson, Roy Helu and Zac Stacy. Always buy low on studs, be patient they are stars for a reason. I finish out the week trading Hopkins for Cecil Shorts, I may be a homer but I know value when I see it. I win again 130-112, with Vernon Davis putting up a 30 bomb against the guy who just traded him to me. 7 trades and a huge win, now I am happy. At this point of my season I am strongly in first, happy with my team but addiction gets the best of me. I am still unhappy with Brady and Rg3 at qb; I am always looking to improve. I trade RG3, Morris and my bench stash of Percy Harvin for Aaron Rodgers and Darren Sproles, now I’m happy with my QB spot but just sacrificed depth at RB and WR. I look to trade Gronk, he was still out at this point, and I never thought my opponent from last week would trade with me again after Davis just crushed him but we work out a trade, Zac Stacy, Gronk and Ugg Boots Brady for MJD, Kaepernick and Demaryius Thomas. I’m happy with my team again, besides my RB/WR slot where I start MJD (barf) but I still dominate my matchup this week 144-39 (not a typo, he had cutler, foster, Peterson and Fitzgerald. He is currently in second but that was the biggest dud I have ever seen). This brings us up to the current week, of course I have a few offers out and will probably try to trade some of my receiver depth for a decent flex back but currently every member of my starting lineup is in the top 10 in scoring at their position (besides MJD). I have one player that I drafted still on my team, Calvin Johnson, but I had traded him and traded back for him the rest were either claimed on waivers or involved in trades. I am extremely happy with my team but I can’t stop tinkering and trading even though I know I need to stop. My current team- QB- Aaron Rodgers and Colin Kaepernick RB- Marshawn Lynch, Lesean McCoy, MJD, Sproles and Bryce Brown WR- Calvin Johnson, Demayrius Thomas, Eric Decker, Andre Johnson, Cecil Shorts, Darrius Heyward-Bey TE- Vernon Davis and Jared Cook With the Niners D/ST and Steven Hauschka at K Former trading addicts and tinkerers, what have been some of the ways that helped you to stop making moves? Am I doomed to be “that guy” that doesn’t stop making moves in the league? I guess it doesn’t matter until I start costing my team wins but I don’t want to realize that when it is already too late and I ruin my season. Thanks for reading my insane journey through the season (so far), if I can be of any help to anyone please don’t hesitate to drop me a comment or message. TL;DR- I have made a shit ton of trades and can’t stop EDIT: Just made another trade- Maurice Jones Drew and Darren Sproles for Chris Johnson and Marques Colston...i'm telling you guys, its a problem. Thanks for all the comments
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