Alexander Pushkin, circa 1830. (Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Alexander Pushkin was a
Russian poet, novelist and playwright. He died on this day (Feb. 10) in 1837
due to injuries sustained during a duel. “A DUEL?!” you ask? “A DUEL,” I
answer. YOU GUYS this is the best story so let’s do this:
Pushkin wrote during Czar Nicholas I’s reign, in the 1800s.
Early in his career, his poems were considered anarchic by the Russian government. So now our guy is being watched pretty carefully by
the government and has to abide by strict censorship rules. He also spent a long
vacation (that’s my euphemism for exile) away from St. Petersburg.
the plot thickens. Alexander meets the hottest thing in Russia since sliced
bread, which, for the record,was
not a thing until about 100 years later in 1928.
Natalya Goncharova was a beauty by all accounts and caught everyone’s attention
as soon as she walked in the room. Pushkin proposed to the young Goncharova and she said yes (after checking with the czar that the poet was not,in fact, going to be exiled again).
So, like I said, Goncharova was very popular in the Russian
court. A French refugee named
Georges D'Anthès was especially interested in Goncharova and flirted with her,
a married woman, constantly in public. The court was afire with rumors and an
anonymous letter was published accusing Pushkin of not being able to hold onto
his woman. Naturally, the poet was upset – his honor and manhood (heaven forbid) had been
challenged. So he challenged D’Anthes to a duel to restore his image (well,
technically he challenged D’Anthes’ adopted father, but Pushkin knew the dad
was too old to duel, talk about shady). The poet managed to wound his opponent,
but D’Anthes did one better: He shot Pushkin in the stomach.
The poet died two days later. As for D’Anthes? He died an old
man, claiming to his closest friends that he regretted never getting to be with
his one true love, Natalya Goncharova.
So if Hera and Glen switched places, as in Hera now has to hang around Al and Glen now has to hang around Fiend. What would happen?
IN THEORY: YAY.
Sorting them by the categories of “big, good-natured beastpeople” and “sharp-tongued quasi-nonbinaries" could totally work out. I’m setting this in Al and Glenn’s 90s-esque universe.
Hera, having a strong familial support system, wouldn’t be swayed by Al’s narrative that extra-human people like them don’t need to function in polite society. So instead of living on the road with her as his sidekick, he’d probably stay near her and try to hold down a steady job. Accent on “try”. The Czars and Hera’s family would get along great, but the Czars would still have to keep the serial killer stuff under wraps. So, just… lots of wholesome wrestling with giant cats.
If Glenn got stuck with Fiend, it’d be for the same reason Hera is: forced by a dark pact created long before they were born. It’s all cool though, because these two both have venomous cynicality, delusions of superiority, and a love for shit-talking perfectly good things. Imagine a muttering thundercloud with four legs.
Also Glenn would learn to dress better and adopt Fiend’s pronoun flexibility, after learning that that’s a thing you can do. (Fiend, well– Fiend doesn’t change for anybody.) Also a plus: they can ride kiddie rollercoasters together.
The most ridiculous visual comparison that comes to mind:
Drunken Bolsheviks and the Greatest Hangover in History,
On October 25th, 1917 Bolshevik soldiers and sailors stormed the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, former home of the Russian Czars. Among the wealth and grandeur of the palace, the revolutionaries stumbled upon perhaps the greatest treasure of the Romanov Dynasty; Nicholas II’s personal wine cellar, which housed the largest collection of fine wines, liquors, and cordials in the world.
Having thousands of heavily armed men and civilians in the proximity of the largest cache of booze on the planet was certainly a big problem for Bolshevik officers and politicians. Already Bolshevik soldiers were carting out kegs and bottles, beginning a Bolshevik boozing spree that would quickly get out of hand. At first Bolshevik leaders considered blasting the cellars with high explosives, however it was feared that this would severely damage the palace. Finally Bolshevik leaders ordered the cellars be barricaded and placed under heavy guard while the booze was disposed of. At first the booze was hauled out in crates to be dumped, however convoys tasked with this duty were ambushed by drunken soldiers and civilians. Finally it was decided to simply pour the booze down the drain. This plan failed when people by the thousands gathered around the palace drains with buckets.
Finally, the large drunken Bolshevik mob stormed the Winter Palace a second time, easily overwhelming the guards and overrunning the cellar. Immediately, St. Petersburg erupted into an orgy of drunken rioting and looting. Boozed up Bolsheviks began fighting or having sex in streets. Rape and murder was common, so were brawls and shootouts among heavily armed soldiers. Many people were killed by stray bullets as soldiers fired their weapons into the air in celebration. Martial law was declared and a Bolshevik army was dispatched to gain control over this situation. However, this did little as many of the oncoming soldiers joined in on the fun. After about a month of alcohol induced chaos, the booze ran out, and order was restored in St. Petersburg. The resulting hangover must have been terrible.
There have been speeches, chants and protest anthems, both soulful and scathing — but as the masses have rallied and marched against President Trump’s policies over the past two weeks, it is the signs they carried that are being stamped into memory.
Protesters turned Trump’s own words against him, with their “Nasty Woman” banners and flaunting signs that declared “This p—- grabs back.” They scorned his seemingly cozy relationship with Russia: “Tinkle tinkle little czar, Putin made you what you are.” They mocked his appearance: “We Shall Overcomb” and “Hands too small to build a wall.” They found many different ways to reject his authority:
Not my President
Not my Führer
Not my Comrade
Not my Cheeto
With a pithy mix of humor and combativeness, this is protest art for the social-media era. While many kept their messages serious and straightforward — “Refugees Welcome,” “Keep Abortion Safe and Legal” — it was the new breed of signage that went viral long after the crowds dispersed. Gaining wide circulation on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or various “best protest signs” listicles, they reached a vast audience that never went near a march or rally.
“Those who made the trek were among those responsible for organizing the Women’s March on Washington, a mass mobilization of activists and protestors that will descend on the capital on January 21, the day after we inaugurate into office a man who ran the most brazenly misogynistic presidential campaign in recent history, and whose victory has emboldened a Republican-led Congress to wage an epic war on women’s rights.
It’s also an all-hands-on-deck, eleventh-hour, race-to-the-finish-line kind of endeavor, which has required all 10, or 15, or 16, or 20 of its chief orchestrators to work around the clock since the week of the election. This is the type of national effort that the group’s communications czar, Cassady Fendlay, told me could take “six months to a year to plan.” These women had just over two months to pull it off.
The story of how the Women’s March on Washington came into being has already been codified into lore. As the returns rolled in on November 8, a Hawaiian grandmother and retired attorney named Teresa Shook created a Facebook page suggesting that women gather to protest in D.C. on inauguration weekend. Then she went to bed. By the time she woke up, 10,000 people had affirmed the plan.
Simultaneously, Bland, founder of the fashion incubator Manufacture New York and an advocate for domestic manufacturing, had a similar idea. She also posted about it on Facebook, where her followership had ballooned after she raised $20,000 for Planned Parenthood by selling Nasty Woman and Bad Hombre T-shirts.
It wasn’t long before Shook and Bland caught wind of each other and consolidated their efforts. Soon Wruble became aware of their plan. In her real life she runs Okayafrica, a media platform seeking to change Western perceptions of Africa that she cofounded with her business partner, Ginny Suss (also the march’s production director) and The Roots drummer Questlove. Having worked for years as a white person in a black space, Wruble quickly recognized that Shook and Bland, both white, could not be the sole faces of the protest they were starting to organize. “I think I wrote, ‘You need to make sure this is led or centered around women of color, or it will be a bunch of white women marching on Washington,’” she paraphrased. “‘That’s not okay right now, especially after 53 percent of white women who voted, voted for Donald Trump.’”
The new coordinators even reached out to the civil rights leader’s daughter, Bernice King, who offered her blessing and shared with them a quote from her mother, Coretta Scott King. Perez read it to me when we followed up by phone a couple weeks after the shoot: “Women, if the soul of the nation is to be saved, I believe that you must become its soul.’”
“This is absolutely not just about us having a symbolic march in Washington and that’s it,” said Bland. “It can’t be that way. We’ve helped facilitate the self-activation of so many people. Because when you think about it, especially those first 48 hours when people were just saying, ‘Yes, yes, yes’ - that’s them self-selecting into a movement. When we get together, who knows what we can do.”
Read the full piece here<– It’s very in-depth, if you’re interested in this story check it out!
Photo - Left to right: Nantasha Williams, Breanne Butler, Ting Ting Cheng, Ginny Suss, Bob Bland, Janaye Ingram, Paola Mendoza, Carmen Perez, Sarah Sophie Flicker, Tamika Mallory, Tabitha St. Bernard
Photographed by Cass Bird | Sittings Editor: Jorden Bickham
In which czar does not know what happens in a cruise and does not know how to draw backgrounds so she totally just winged it. (requested by lilikakb a looong long time ago). My hiatus is finally over !!! But if you want more frequent updates and traditional art, check out my insta: czarryy !
“Okay I’m the Card Czar” you said, pulling up a black card “What are my parents hiding from me?” you said reading the words on the card. Biting your lower lip you looked between the boys. “Eh, touchy subject.. I’ll pick another card”