wolfpangs: (made a swiveling chair--now I nap)
Five hundred nervous fits later, I finally got my first paper for Early Republic back:

Ooh, suspense... )

And in other American history news, I finished Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter today and while I'm not sure how I feel about the very end, it was a fun read.
*I cannot even begin to understand the trailer for Boondock Saints: Live Free or Huh? Hard.



Isn't Billy Connolly Scottish? Aren't the Saints Oirish? Clifton Collins, Jr., what are you doing in this movie? What, Peter Fonda? Two second Judd Nelson cameo?

*Scanners head explosion*

By the way, he's not in this one (I don't think), but he was in the first one so it's relevant--we used to call our landscaping crew the Willem Dafoes, because they all looked like Willem Dafoe in Platoon.

*My Tumblr is really amusing me right now, because out of all of my online haunts, it is mayhap the clearest picture of my psyche: history junk, Batman, lusting over German actors, dirty rap music, ultraviolence, perfume, pandas, Clint Eastwood westerns...oh, and your mom.

*Dammit. I thought of something a little ago that I needed to travel back in time (and kill Hitler and) for, but I can't remember what it was.

But hey, speaking of Hitler, remember when he and Lenin used to go over to that Jewish family's house and just be cold-chillin', playing chess? Hitler's art teacher captured the magic:



By the way, the inset photo is of the chessboard they supposedly used--it's not like I'm saying, "This is what a chessboard looks like, dumplings." And I watched The Liberation of Auschwitz ("Shot by the Soviet cameraman attached to the 1st Ukrainian front, this documentation, used by as prosecution evidence at the Nuremburg War Crime Trials...") earlier, so I'm really all out of the ha ha's on this subject.

And of course, I'm stuffing all this distraction into my brain to take a braincation away from thinking about the ongoing anniversary of Katrina and its aftermath.

*So anyway, my school makes us all purchase Dining Dollars, even if we're commuter students. On the one hand, this is so annoying because I'm not a babe far from home, unable to feed myself. On the other hand, if Starbucks brings back the Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate, which they will if they know what's good for them, having my dining debit card will rule. See, there's a Starbucks in the library at school because stimulation.

*This comment me LOL so hard.

*Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to start focusing on my friends page. And myself. And Daniel Brühl. And August Diehl. And other fine Germanic menfolk.


I don't know whom I'm more jealous of.

Above: The only good photo of Neil Armstrong on the surface of the moon. [Photo taken by Buzz Aldrin.]

In all of human history, there are many dividing lines we can arbitrarily assign. Before and after the use of atomic weapons, before and after the invention of the light bulb, before and after this war or that.

But there is one dividing line that can inspire us, fill us with wonder, make us dream of bigger goals, higher aspirations, better ways to live our lives for the future. And that is the dividing line between the time we were a race shackled to the ground, confined to a single planet… and the time a human being stepped foot on another world.

And there it is, in pictures and in fact. This is what these pictures mean. We humans spend a lot of time looking around, looking out, looking down. But sometimes, for just a brief moment, we look up. We did it once before, and it’s time to do it again.


--Phil Plait

[Lest you think my history nerdity centered only around Revolutionary War-era activities, may I remind you that a) I own shuttle earrings and b) the front license plate of my car reads "Alabama, First to the Moon*."]

*Wernher von Braun was fond of saying, "Anything sent into space should have a tag on it saying ‘Made in Alabama by the people of Alabama.’"
Meg at 2Birds1Blog has not been thrilled with Meghan McCain since the latter was rude about DC. Things didn't improve when the Blogette blocked the Bird on Twitter.

I've mostly been Switzerland in this, but how do you think I feel about the fact that McCain thinks her age excuses her from knowing about things that happened before she was born?



Hint: It's not favorable.

Meghan, Meghan, Meghan. Regularly, when I tell people that I'm studying history, I hear the same thing, "Ugh, I hate history." While this annoys me ("Oh, yeah? Well, I hate the thing you care about!"), I can understand why people feel that way. A lot of times, history education misses the mark. Too much emphasis is put on rote memorization of dates and names and not enough emphasis on the fact that history is just a story--the ever-changing story of us and our world. The dates and names are important, but they're abstract concepts to describe the real people and the real actions they undertook. But maybe she's right. Maybe we don't need to know about things that happened before we were born. Maybe we don't need to know about the group of men who risked their lives to form a new kind of government. Maybe we don't need to know what happened in France when they tried. Maybe we don't need to know about Gettysburg or Hoovervilles or Midway or you know, maybe we don't need to know about this:



If you're going to present yourself as the new face of anything in politics, you need to cut the shit--yes, even the shit you're getting for appearing on lib'rul programs--and get yourself educated. You don't even have to do the hard research! Knowing about Reagan's time in office should not be the advanced knowledge! It really wasn't that long ago!

Look, you have some good ideas (like everything re: Ann Coulter), but no one is going to take you seriously if you tee-hee about how ignorant you are. As one youtube commenter said, "You waived that defense when you decided you were knowledgeable enough to step in the ring with the big dogs." And just look across the table--there's Katty Kay, who somehow manages to be a beautiful [blonde] woman and to know what she's talking about. I know, it's a struggle.

In other news, how hard do I love Paul Begala, that "mean man"? So hard.
Things I've read, things I've thought, things I've done, things I've bought:

  • Holocaust Museum Attack Is an Excellent Media Opportunity For Deranged Racists: While you're at it, though, do you mind if I tell you about my interesting ideas on race? Or, barring that, at least let me look respectable in a coat and tie on your air?


  • I saw a blurb this weekend where the Operation Rescue head compared himself to Nat Turner. Let me just pry my forehead from the desk and say that if you are any abolitionist, which...not, but if you were, you're John Brown at Harpers Ferry getting a bunch of people killed. Now you and Glenn Beck, get back to history class.


  • Oh and speaking of Fox News, here's Frank Rich talking about the kerfuffle going on re: my bff Shep and his "I get crazy talk!" comments.


  • An amazing set of photos from the aftermath of the Iranian election.


  • Polidori Chocolates: Mmm, I ♥ marshmallows. PS: [livejournal.com profile] start_0ver, ahem, ahem.


  • Les Blank, with his documentaries about blues musicians and gap-toothed women, may be my dream man. Too bad he's 73.


  • Listening to: Lay Low, The Emperor Machine, Dirty Projectors, Passion Pit, Black Joe Lewis and the Honeybears, JB Lenoir


  • Watching: Les Blank documentaries, lots of giallo, American Gothic


  • Going: To see DRH next week. To lose my mind if my knee doesn't heal right (I injured it in an incident really too unseemly to describe--there was a pop, then an ow. I don't think I tore a major ligament because there was no swelling and the pain subsided within a minute. Nevertheless, I am terrified that something will go horribly wrong).


  • Thinking about: Going to see Porter Batiste Stoltz in Florida next month. Moving to the city of angels and stolen water.

    I love summer. I have a tan and mosquito bitten legs, I watch movies by the pool and read all the time. It's like I'm 12. Er, except for the part where my two biggest concerns are my screenplay and how my tomaters are doing.
  • wolfpangs: (made a swiveling chair--now I nap)
    I'm making this face, too!-------->

    Just doing some more genealogy research and I've found some really interesting stuff. I've managed to trace my family back to the 17th century! In Virginia! I read about my great^5 grandfather, who went to court at 73 to get the pension he was rightfully owed for his military service. The court found that "the above named applicant George VEST was a revolutionary Soldier and served as he states." So I really am a daughter of the Revolution. Oh, but wait.

    Going back further, I found some information on his brother James, who seems like quite the righteous dude. On Nov. 14, 1785, James signed a petition supporting separation of Church and State. And then there was his will. After specifying the distribution of his possessions, including his "horse mountain" (I want a horse mountain!) and his "utenshuls," he said, "I do appoint my two trusty friends Thomas Burfoot and Archer Trayler for my Executors to this my last will and testament whereunto I have set my hand and seal this day and date above written."

    That's where a light flickered on in my fevered brain. Archer Trayler, one of the trusty friends of my superb uncle (that's gotta be better than great), is a descendant of Christopher Branch II. Christopher Branch's great-grandson was a man by the name of Peter Jefferson, who gave his father's name to his third child, a boy he named Thomas.

    Y'all. Now if there were someone in Virginia who would have had something to say about the separation of church and state, I wonder just who that could have been.
    Time.com has Callie Shell's lovely photos of the first 100 days of the presidential adminstration.

    Below: Below a picture of Abraham Lincoln, the President meets with the Congressional Black Caucus.*



    *In a meeting that, I assume, featured a lot of "What did you say?"s and "Can't hear you at this end!"s.
    Squirt must have read the same hot/not article I read recently that listed feather headbands as out, since he helpfully mouth-destroyed mine. Now feathers keep mysteriously appearing everywhere.

    What hasn't reappeared anywhere is my folder of materials that I've been using for my mixed media paintings. Oh, yes. I'm painting now. And I've had this folder of various clippings, as well as quotes from a number of sources, that I've been saving for years for some vague artistic purpose. Now I've finally figured out something to do with them--never underestimate what I'll come up with to get out of screenwriting--and I've managed to Amelia Bedelia the folder to God knows where. This folder will end up being some place I can't even imagine now, much like how I found my paintbrushes drying in my Easter basket. (You can see a sneak peek of one of my paintings here.)

    I've decided to take the summer off from school. I have a lot of books to read! Also, I like my mental health. And I need a break!

    Other things:

    The New York Times spent 36 hours in Birmingham. I love that first picture because that is my beloved old man bar (my power animal is a grumpy old man). In fact, that may be me in the photo--I dunno, I'm drinking when I'm there. By the way, the article recommends some charcuterie thing at Hot and Hot Fish Club which sounds gaaaross--however, if you happen to visit there and it's in the summer months, you will be remiss if you do not order the tomato salad. *Homer Simpson drool*

    Speaking of the Times, Randall Munroe, creator of the wonderful xkcd, appears in an article featuring a photo whose caption I will be borrowing for my bio.

    I am totally going to make these. Also, Starbucks please bring back the Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate already. Or don't.

    Kindertrauma: "...the movies, books, and toys that scared you when you were a kid."

    Speaking of scaring children, [livejournal.com profile] zooby and I found hilariously disturbing some advice we read on the internet telling parents not to forget to tell children the "real story of Easter." This someecard sums up why. The real story of Easter is an "astounding horror." On that note, here's Slate's very interesting piece Why Was Jesus Crucified?: "A central statement in traditional Christian creeds is that Jesus was crucified 'under Pontius Pilate.' But the majority of Christians have only the vaguest sense what the phrase represents, and most non-Christians probably can't imagine why it's such an integral part of Christian faith...Linking Jesus' death with Pilate represents the insistence that Jesus was a real person, not merely a figure of myth or legend. More than this, the phrase also communicates concisely some pretty important specifics of that historical event. For one thing, the statement asserts that Jesus didn't simply die; he was killed. This was a young man's death in pain and public humiliation, not a peaceful end to a long life." Now who wants chocolate bunnies?!

    I...don't know. There's really not a way to follow that on a high note. So I'm going to go drink sweet tea and do some writing and maybe paint. And definitely update my Facebook status. Happy birthday.

    Oh, PS: If you haven't seen the (NSFW) video from which I got my icon, here 'tis:



    Learning!
    In order not to have a looooong entry, here are some nonpersonal life things before I write about my personal life. So...

    Things that have made me laugh/things I've found interesting this week:

    • I haven't really gotten into Rifftrax (in which former MST3K cast members and others record MST3Kesque audio tracks to be played while watching movies) as much as one would think, considering my deep and abiding love for MST3K. I don't own most of the movies they've done tracks for, so renting a movie and buying a track and syncing them is just beyond my lazy usually, especially when I can just watch Giant Spider Invasion and be happy. [At this point, I went looking for an example clip and became distracted watching various clips for...some minutes.] However, the upcoming Twilight track? Ohhh, so excited. And I've been taking a look at the rest of the samples, which I've missed and they're just as great. Prisoner of Azkaban:

      Hagrid: That, Ron, is the hippogriff. First thing you want to know about hippogriffs is that they're very proud creatures. Very easily offended.
      Bill: Very quick to compare you to Hitler online.

      See also: "Why is Ron dressed like Mr. Smith at the end of his filibuster?"


    • Canadian political cartoons: "GOD here I am just trying to cook my chickens and AMERICA IS IN THE WINDOW

      NO, GET OUT OF MY WINDOW AMERICA THESE CHICKENS ARE MINE. Stay away from my inter-colonial railway carrots too."

      Ahaha. A) America, you whore. B) My personal favorite is the one listing the negatives of the US, including "radical adventurers" and "Bowie knives." Those are our selling points! Also, like Kate Beaton, one of my favorite things about old political cartoons is the need to label everything.


    • We finished talking about WWII this week.



      What, is that not how it happened? (See here for the rest of Angus McLeod's simple guide to WWII and for the rest of his amazing art.)


    • I don't know what about my Twitter screams, "Add me, conservative fellows!" but it seems to. Maybe it's my glee over these (very historically accurate) tea party things. Just look at the signs! (And then look at my favorite sign.) See also: John Oliver's brilliant piece on the parties. And if you're a conservative (or not), feel free to add me as well.


    • And finally, Pre-durst is my new favorite Tumblr. It's a musical flashback to the days before we did it all for the nookie. As one does.
    The other day, one of my instructors asked us where the first (WWII-era) concentration camp was. [Man, do I know how to open a post on a high note or what?] No one answered, so he gave us a hint by saying it was near Munich. Like it was Pavlovian, I immediately said, "Dachau." I didn't even know that I knew that. Then I realized how I knew that:



    Mr. Schmidt, recently arrived in a small Bavarian village which lies eight miles northwest of Munich...

    And unfortunately, I realized that right as I was taking a sip of Dr. Wham--yes, it's a real thing--and almost asphyxiated because of course I would get my random history trivia from the glass teat.

    We've been talking about WWII a lot the last week and we probably will be talking about it a lot this week, so I look forward to the opportunity to frighten people with my knowledge of terrible stuff (see also: talking about serial killers in psych classes). It's all the same curiosity, though--I just keep hoping that at some point, it'll all click and I'll understand how people become monsters. And yeah, I had to laugh when I realized where I'd first learned to draw a link between Nazis and other monsters (see the part from about :18 to :58).

    For those of you who can't see youtube:

    Scary German Guy: *shows kids his reflection to show that he couldn't be a monster*
    His name is Horace!: Man, you sure know a lot about monsters.
    Scary German Guy: Now that you mention it, I suppose I do. *closes door as camera focuses on his forearm*

    And they say popculture rots your brains. On that note, The Different Kinds of People That There Are. I particularly enjoyed People Who Don't Watch TV: "Are we really still having this conversation? Television is a part of the cultural landscape at this point—a lot of it is good. A lot of it is bad, some of which is also good. You know, LIKE ALL THINGS MADE BY HUMANS?" I'm sayin'.

    And for those of you who have no idea what that movie is, see here for the glory you've been missing. Now get out there and rock until you drop! Dance until your heart stops! Rock until you drop! Dance until your feet fall off!

    (Seriously--you haven't seen it? Really? Man. "Look, what your brother is so delicately attempting to inquire is the degree to which you may have or have not, at some point in time... been dorked." That. You missed that.)
    This morning I had to go to a presentation by a Teddy Roosevelt impersonator. It was enjoyable, but what I really liked was hearing about his oldest daughter, Alice. Y'all? Alice Roosevelt was the business.


    FIERCE.

    From the wiki (and other places): She was known as a rule-breaker in an era when women were under great pressure to conform. The American public noticed many of her exploits. She smoked cigarettes in public, rode in cars with men, stayed out late partying, kept a pet snake named Emily Spinach (Emily as in her spinster aunt and Spinach for its green color) in the White House, and was seen placing bets with a bookie.

    To Senator Joseph McCarthy, who had casually asked her "How are you, Alice?" she stated that the garbage men, taxi drivers and street sweepers in her neighborhood could call her by her first name, but that he could call her "Mrs. Longworth."

    "I valued my independence from an early age and was always something of a individualist," she says. "Well, a show-off anyway."

    • I was browsing the iTunes store last night (looking for female-sung alternapop; ended up having a nostalgia breakdown and stocking up on my old riot grrrl favorites) and I checked out the celebrity playlists. They've got the cast of Watchmen. Malin Akerman was first and one of her choices is "Dreamworld" by Rilo Kiley. Says Akerman, "Rilo is such a great artist. All of her songs are my favorite..."

      I, uh...yeah. Besides the obvious, I'm pretty sure that's Blake singing lead.

      [As far as I can tell, Zach Snyder is the only one who chooses a version of "Hallelujah." The version, by Allison Crowe, is okay.]


    • Can I just add the site to my cart?


    • Okay, I know Carol Burnett was the big draw for tonight's SVU episode but whooooa, Matthew Lillard looks crazy! You know who he looks like? Remember that episode of Full House where DJ goes on the date with the mustachioed dude who looks crazy old and thus, totally inappropriate for DJ? Yeah, he looks like that guy. That's your boyfriend, by the way.

      Roger! That was his name. That guy went on to play Hannah's dad on Veronica Mars.


    • I saw Last House on the Left Saturday. 12 people walked out, which I gleefully twittered. As for my thoughts, I agree with this paragraph from the Pajiba review: It’s frustrating because one can see throughout the film moments of where it could have been so much better. There are two families here, one of love and one of violence, but families with loyalty nonetheless. There is the potential for a beautiful intertwining of two stories: a boy rejecting the monstrosity of his father, a father becoming a monster on behalf of his daughter. It seems at quiet moments to realize its potential as a meditation on violence, but jettisons that too often for the cheesy violence of bad horror. It does not seem to realize that its most horrific moments are not filled with blood, but with Garret Dillahunt’s smile.


    • Speaking of movies, I just read that James Franco is playing Allen Ginsberg and this movie will also feature Mary-Louise Parker and Paul Rudd. I believe it will be called America, this movie is awesome.

    • I used to listen this reading of "America" by the man himself (and Tom Waits, the most patient man in rock) all the time. [Video may be NSFW.] Hearing him read it illuminated the poem. This part always breaks my heart:

      Are you going to let your emotional life be run by Time Magazine?
      I'm obsessed by Time Magazine.
      I read it every week.
      Its cover stares at me every time I slink past the corner candystore.
      I read it in the basement of the Berkeley Public Library.
      It's always telling me about responsibility. Businessmen are serious. Movie
      producers are serious. Everybody's serious but me.
      It occurs to me that I am America.
      I am talking to myself again.


    • But back to Paul Rudd for a sec, did you know that he and Jon Hamm were college friends? Oh, yeah. It's true. "He's adorable. There's no two ways about it," says Hamm.


    • I've been making amazing strides with my screenplay. I didn't so much neglect it as I did have a momentary crisis of confidence. Now though, I've regained motivation and momentum and that's helped me regain my confidence in it and my ability to write it. Part of what has helped has been Twitter of all things. When I've got daily meditations on art via David Lynch and that man named Ludacris (woo!), among others, that helps keep me focused. In addition, I've been doing creative writing exercises with a friend of mine who is also working on his own artistic endeavor, and I've found that doing so keeps my brain in the right frame of mind to create. I think I've come up with a title. I was able to give the pitch clearly and concisely, as opposed to the novella-length uh-studded mess it has been. Finally, being on spring break and having time to rest and to reflect has also helped.


    • And now that I've made the post-Vicodin Herculean effort to write that, I must go nap and catch up on my Tivo (I set a recording for "Sex and the Civil War"? Really?) and exchange coded Tweets and birthday party cheesecake jellybean boom before I descend into total incoherence. You know...stuuuuuff.
    I am trying to watch all the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars. I'm watching The Reader now. I know Kate is getting all the attention for this movie and rightfully so, but so far, it's a scene with Dieter, a classmate of Michael's, that I've found the most moving. Cut for mild spoilers.

    Read more... )

    There's so much in this scene, from the frustration when justice slips from our grasp to the anger felt at the realization that authorities are fallible. And of course, the easy judgment from someone who's never had to ask those questions before.

    And now my thoughts on this are all derailed, because in lulzbigot news, I googled to doublecheck a line from The Twilight Zone episode "Deaths-head Revisited," from which this entry get its title and found a hilarious discussion about depictions of race on TV over at [I'm not giving any credit to white supremacist websites]. "What really bothers me is the way two of the formerly white Teletubbies have gradually transformed into an obvious black and the other an Asian." WAT.
    Of course, there is another reason why Justice Roberts could have flubbed the oath (and as someone with an inner pedant, if this is the case, then Mr. Roberts...you are not alone).

    Mainly I link to that column for this paragraph, in which I love the contrast between what the paragraph says and how it says it: Language pedants hew to an oral tradition of shibboleths that have no basis in logic or style, that have been defied by great writers for centuries, and that have been disavowed by every thoughtful usage manual. Nonetheless, they refuse to go away, perpetuated by the Gotcha! Gang and meekly obeyed by insecure writers.

    ilu, language.

    I thought this photo was a 'shoop and I was too dumb to get the joke, but then I realized that it was real and I got that shiver of excitement I'm still getting every time it hits me again. See also: http://www.whitehouse.gov/president/

    The other day, someone at work felt so helped by me that they left me something. Something in the form of two Chick tracts. Advance report: They are horrawesome.

    Now I'm going to head off to class, for one hour of discussion where the class is well-informed and the discussion is interesting and enjoyable. Theeeen, one hour of class where the class can't answer a single basic American history question. But thanks, W! Before I go, I was doing some readings last night on the 1877 Compromise and I found this editorial cartoon:



    Note the inscription on the dress's ruffles. Oh South, you whore.


    Some people say
    It's what we deserve
    For sins against g-d
    For crimes in the world
    I wouldn't know
    I'm just holding the fort
    Since that day
    They wounded New York.


    There's A Hole In The City
    wolfpangs: (fairy)
    My favorite Best of Craigslist post is "How To Be A Man 101," in which the anonymous author explains how in lieu of his abusive father, Muhammad Ali taught the author how to be. The author grew up in rural America and he didn't know anything about the Nation of Islam or where Ali was coming from. But he knew his father hated Ali and as he explains, "...I hated my dad. So I decided I loved Muhammad Ali."

    The author followed Ali's career through the many highs and through the low point when he was banned from boxing for dodging the draft. In 1970, he was allowed to fight again and a year later, the Supreme Court overturned Ali's conviction for refusing induction. By 1974, he'd fought his way back to a title shot. That shot was against someone whom you likely think of as the friendly guy trying to sell you small kitchen appliances. But that wasn't the case back in '74, as the author explains:

    "In 1974, Muhammad Ali fought a real-life, living, breathing boogey man: George Foreman. A giant of a man that had actually crippled other fighters in the ring. He'd decimated both Frazier and Norton in previous fights. He'd hit Frazier so hard he lifted him four feet off the mat. He'd knocked Kenny Norton asleep. He beat him like a rug the year earlier and Norton didn't wake up until he was in his dressing room. As often as the movies may portray that sort of thing, the truth is in professional fighting it's nearly unheard of."

    And Ali was at 32, over-the-hill in the world of boxing. From ye olde Wiki: Almost no one, not even Ali's long-time supporter Howard Cosell, gave the former champion a chance of winning. Analysts pointed out that Joe Frazier and Ken Norton had given Ali four tough battles in the ring and won two of them, while Foreman had knocked out both of them in the second round. As a matter of fact, so total was the domination that, in their bout, Foreman had knocked down Frazier an incredible six times in only four minutes and 25 seconds.

    None of that seemed to affect him, though, as the anonymous author remembers:

    "Foreman could barely put a sentence together back then - he usually just glared at people if he didn't feel like acknowledging him. Ali, on the other hand, had done the impossible over the past 10 years: he had gone from Most Hated Athlete in America to Most Adored HUMAN on the Face of the Earth. And, of course, he reveled in it. He talked about EVERYthing - tooth decay, racism, boxing, music, magic tricks...anything that caught his fancy. Smiling, laughing, giggling, chortling, merry-making his way through the sweltering pre-rainy season of Kinsasha. Not a care in the world.

    Of course, that wasn't true, though. Ali was worried."

    Since Ali could not possibly overpower Foreman, he planned to employ the Rope-a-dope, a style in which basically, he leaned on the ropes of the ring and hoped he could withstand Foreman's punches until the giant was worn out. "Years later he acknowledged his fear in an interview with George Plimpton. 'I was afraid for my children,' he said, 'I was afraid if maybe Big George broke my spinal column or something, how would I feed my children?' My God, it's astonishing to think of the fear that must have enveloped him for those three months prior to the fight."

    Ali withstood nearly eight rounds of pummeling, fighting mostly defensively until there were about thirty seconds left in the round. This is the last minute and change of the eighth round:



    !!! G.O.A.T. !!! I highly recommend reading the post, if only to find out what happened when the author finally got to tell Ali what he had meant.

    You were. You are.

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