Higher Society - Pt.4

HIGHER SOCIETY – Part 4

a fanfiction based on the George Cukor’s The Philadelphia Story (1940) and the musical High Society (1956), both of which were based on the Broadway play, The Philadelphia Story (1939) by Philip Barry. I don’t own the story, but I own the characters in this adaptation.

Chapter Ten

Mmm yeah! (Woo, woo)

Women think I'm tasty, but they're always tryin' to waste me

Make me burn the candle right down

But, baby, baby, don't need no jewels in my crown

-“Tumbling Dice”, Rolling Stones

Present time

The pool itself was only Olympic size while the entertainment portion of the patio's layout was what one would anticipate at a seaside hotel. There was a full-outdoor kitchen on the west side and a full bar with a temperature-controlled snack station on the east. Toni hung her clothes in one of the five cabanas, also largess with its individual bathroom with forest themed walk-in shower. A decanter of scotch, bucket of ice, and two glasses were on a side table between two white reclining lawn chairs. When she came out, towel across her shoulders, Toni said, “Geeze, this is beautiful!”

Angus scanned her like a drunk john at a strip club. 

“Yes. It sure is.” He put a store-bought pretzel in his mouth and immediately regretted it.  

“Compliments will get you nowhere, Earl Glamorgan!  But thank you anyway,” she replied. 

The surrounding garden foliage caught her attention. Toni walked up to a flowering bush to sniff the pedals. “Attar of Roses, Sweet bay, Cotton lavender,” she said as she pointed to the well-curated collection of foliage. “Your grandmother’s work I suppose? She has excellent taste.” Toni ran her hands across the petals and leaves. “My mother owned a greenhouse and flower shop. I worked there every summer until I left for college.”

Life Before Project Iceworm - mini mission story continued

Chapter 3

They had Natasha locked in a waiting room guarded by two secret service looking blokes – black sunglasses, earpieces and all.   The two outside didn’t give us a glance but the couple inside stood straighter, trigger fingers twitching.  The room was 1980s drab, with faux steel reception seating bolted to the floor through factory #3345 carpeting.  The rows of matching chair clothe must have been discarded from a local DMV.  Entering the room, to my right, cross-legged atop of an innocuous foam cushion was a figure folded over itself, with hands on the back of the neck and fingers tightly knitted together.  The posture was so twisted and seemingly uncomfortable that I could only assume the figure had to be either a ballet dancer or a yogi.  She lifted her face to us as we got closer and I realized it was the latter – that was a face of a Russian ballerina whose depression is so entrenched that she forgot that she could eat normally now.   Her passport likely said she was 35 or 40 but her resting sad face pushed that number to 60 – in Russian years.  But getting even closer, I saw those cool, steely blue eyes, fierce and determined.  She may be frightened, overwhelmed even, but she knew her endgame.  Before we were nearly upon her, a low growl came from between painted red lips, “Where is my son?”

My biographer is at it again!

I simply love it when she brings the snark to the next level and she has done it with this interview with Our Queer Art.  I think sometimes we queer folk take ourselves and our shit too seriously.  Often, at least in the UK and the US, the agenda is defined by the "white gay mafia" - privileged, white gay men (and maybe about 3 bi men).  Yes, I am a full fledged member and will sing such from the top of Morganwg Estate (albeit I only joined the rich part when I married Angus and got a title).  But I'd like to think that I'm walking the planet also saying and promoting that mine isn't the only way to be or understand how to be queer - room needs to be made for the "minorities within the minority" otherwise we risk fracturing like other "movements" leaving room for those who are less enlightened than I to take advantage - that's how we got The Orange Man and Brexit.  (Oh damn, did I say Brexit? Oi!  If I have to hear one more time from Angus how that is going to send the UK to hell in a handbasket I'll just scream!!!)

Wondering if anyone else is grateful ...

Bruce Cockburn: If a Tree Falls in the Forest

a letter from Angus

     Angus is nothing if not a British patriot and he loves kids.  Not a day goes by that he doesn't mention how much he is looking forward to us starting a family once I am done with rabbinical school.  As an abuse survivor, the idea of becoming a father frightens me; I wonder if I have what it takes ...but that is another story.

     He Skyped me this morning once the name of the youngest victim, Saffie-Rose Roussos, was released.  At the time he reached out, I was studying at the desk of my flat in Philadelphia where I'm attending rabbinical school. Angus was horrified and angered by yesterday's bombing.  His voice cracked periodically as he spoke.  He had the rough draft of a press release he wanted to run by me - a way to productively channel his anguish... "She was so cute!" he kept saying.  "She could have been our daughter."

Here's what he read to me:

Saffie Rose Roussos

FROM THE OFFICE OF Rt. HONORABLE ANGUS REESE, EARL OF GLAMORGAN

Official  Press Release

Re: 5/22/2017 Manchester Terrorist Bombing

     On behalf of the Glamorgan clan and myself, I want to express our deepest condolences to the survivors, the family and friends of survivors, and the murdered resulting from what The Honourable Prime Minister correctly called a “cowardly act”.  Along with the rest of the country, I also want to extend my admiration to the first responders and regular citizens who selflessly extended themselves to help frightened children and their anxious parents during the initial hours of this crisis.  The UK is certainly blessed to have such brave, caring individuals - from the cabbie offering free rides to the hundreds of individuals who used social media to share pictures of children in hopes of reuniting them with their loved ones.  Your efforts demonstrate the strength that underlines all of the citizens of our Commonwealth.   We will get through this and come out stronger, more resilient for it.

     And I want to speak to those would-be terrorists skulking in the shadows of our law-abiding Muslim communities.  Do you notice something about your previous colleagues' efforts?  I cannot say whether or not you are rewarded in heaven – I’m not quite sure if I believe such a place exists.  But even if it does and it is true that what you see as a sacrifice for a greater good becomes a guaranteed, nonstop ticket to a wondrous afterlife, isn’t it clear by now that your attempts to frighten us, the French, the Americans, the Germans, and even your own Muslim brothers and sisters in the Turkey and the Arab world have changed nothing?  If you were hoping to make a difference, I don’t see it – with the exception of likely making the lives of the family members you left behind miserable both because of your absence and the unfortunate stench of being the relative of someone who would kill children, you have neither brought about the Caliphate you desire nor brought any government to its knees.  If this is Allah’s plan for you, it is a pretty shitty one because it hasn’t and, if history is any predictor, won’t bring promise to your cause.

Unlike many of my fellow MPs, I admit that the centuries of economic and resource exploitation that resulted from British colonialism created the scars and trauma that continues to drive the negativity and oppression in your family’s homelands as well as for the youth living in the West.  And, also unlike other MPs, I admit I don’t know what reparations or even change in current foreign policy can fix all the negativity we have caused.  However, I cannot see how killing 8-year old girls makes up for it.  Saffie-Rose Roussos’ family and community may feel the same pain as a Palestinian family living on the West Bank but long after Saffie-Rose’s memorial, that Palestinian family will remain just as disadvantaged as before.  At the end of the day, killing civilians changes nothing and trust me when I write that our police and special services, with help from our allies around the world, will always keep you on the run; you may get a few bombs through but we will catch your comrades and relentlessly thwart your cause. 

We can and will outlast you then destroy you.  Just ask Adolf Hitler.

I'm thinking of becoming a vegetarian

Bruce Cockburn, again, quietly doing his thing.  The man has a way of breaking truth down to its harsh, honest elements.  You can't be mad at the guy.  During my escapades with MI-6's "Department of Alien Affairs" I've seen a lot of stupid shit based on people's needs to believe in a fanciful world where things are 'better' (your mileage may vary).  Don't get me wrong now.  I'm a huge sci-fi fan and a fanboy from the time I came out of nappies.  But I knew when I went to see the latest Star Trek installment or sat under a tree to read Jules Verne, that it was a story about humans in a world created by humans.  I'm still waiting for the sci-fi book that keeps us here and where we focus on saving this land, not just the people on it.  Probably some native person has written it already.  I hope I'm right.

If a Tree Falls in a Forest - Bruce Cockburn

I love a strong Black Woman

This is why I love a Black woman.  She takes no shit and gives as much as you can give her.  I used to know this Black woman, back when I was doing Aikido in Chicago.  She wore her hair natural, wild, long, and nappy before it was popular.  She was ridiculously strong - beat my ass all over that dojo mat during the day and ran around the gay clubs with me at night (pulling my white, sorry, drunk ass from being the center of attention within way too many gangbangs).  She finally convinced me that the pain I was harboring was not going to be averted by ruining my liver nor would trauma survivorship come as the result of rectal prolapse.  I miss that gal - I got sober and mistook her rescuing me as love.  The first of many stupid mistakes with love.

I hope I'm not going to get things wrong with Angus.
(Angus, off in a corner, smiles then says, "I won't let you!")

Video Link: "Choose Pussy Over Pain" - A Black Woman's rage against the machine

Why Donald Trump Exists and liberals can't stop him

What if the current sentiment that is fueling the Trump campaign and supported the Tea Party and other hyper-conservative movements in America (as well as their counterparts on the left) is the result of the unresolved trauma of 9-11 and the 2008 recession (differentiating it from other recessions where you didn’t see your two neighbors across the street simultaneously lose their jobs and their homes)?  If we see the American public as individuals who were abused as children, we can understand why now many of them dream of a prince charming who will magically save them instead of looking at the reality around them that is saying “the trauma is over and we survived, albeit with some serious bumps and bruises, which in time and with a little innovation, can heal”.  Instead, we’re like the older teen who runs away from home to live with the 27-year-old “bad boy” who promises us the world, only to get us hooked on drugs (pre-Trump) and pulls us into a cycle of domestic violence (post-Trump).