Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place- MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
The black groom wears a chiton, a common garment especially
suited for strenuous activity, and short, form-fitting boots. His
upturned face is rendered with skill and sensitivity. The gracefully
curving features of his face and the tightly knit curls of hair
characterize him unmistakably as of African origin. As he whistles
through pursed lips, the youth looks into the eyes of the horse to gauge
the intentions of his charge. With his right hand he holds up a whip,
while he tries to calm the animal with the other. The groom’s face is
not idiosyncratic enough to be taken as a portrait, but the suavity of
his features faithfully captures the essence of youthful ardor and
The entire visual effect of the relief once depended on the vivid
coloring applied to its surfaces. The play of solid form and movement
conveyed by the swelling masses of stone was dramatically accentuated by
contrasting tones of color. From surviving traces of pigment, the skin
of the groom was painted black, while the panther skin on the horse’s
back was rendered in light red. Almost certainly the rest of the panel
was painted as well. The martial context of the relief was further
conveyed by the image of a warrior’s helmet and leather armor once
depicted above the back of the horse and now reduced to near
Adam Gopnikreviews Michel Houellebecq’s new novel, “Submission”:
The charge that Houellebecq is Islamophobic seems misplaced. He’s not Islamophobic. He’s Francophobic. The portrait of the Islamic regime is quite fond; he likes the fundamentalists’ suavity and sureness. Ben Abbes’s reform of the educational system is wholesome, and his ambitions to rebuild France are almost a form of neo-Gaullism. … One of the few objects of real scorn in the book is François Bayrou, the (actual) French centrist politician whose dancing between left and right in electoral politics is legend, and who becomes Ben Abbes’s chief apologist and mouthpiece.
Photograph by François Berthier / Contour by Getty
Thinking back, there were so many red flags warning me to stay away from you yet something about you, whether it was your suavity, your deep brown eyes, your smirks, something just kept me within your fingertips. I was enamored by you and even now I am still trapped between the memories we made together. Sometimes I wonder whether you miss me or regret those words you spoke to me that night. I hope you do, because it is finally time for you to start missing me. After all, I just lost someone who didn’t care about me while you lost someone that loved you.
“Imagine Gabriel in the Hunger Games.” Okay, there are two different ways people can mean this.
“Imagine Gabriel in the interviews.” The golden-eyed asshat prancing onto the stage, looking resplendent in a suit made of bronze-colored reflective-ish material designed so that when he moves, the light catches on the clothing and it seems to change a little bit in color and design and shape so that it looks like it’s constantly changing from one form to another – like he’s a million different people all at once. The smirking bastard bantering with Caesar like he was born to talk and totally taking control of the flow of conversation, casually getting Caesar to say just the right thing for a clever snark or a witty rejoinder, thus ensuring that the audience reacts exactly the way he wants them to. The sleazy little shit brazenly serving up innuendos left and right while softening the crudeness of his delivery by pouring on the charm, and flirting with the ladies of the Capitol with his own brand of suavity (because he’s not exactly smooth by general definitions, but he’s hella charming in his own way). The silver-tongued smartass breezing over Caesar’s attempts to cajole a sob story out of him by deflecting every question about his family toward a joke and spinning wild anecdotes to distract the audience from the subject with stories of his antics back in his district.
“Imagine Gabriel in the arena.” The teenager who is small for his years, both in build and in height, who takes off at a sprint away from the Cornucopia as soon as the gong sounds. Let’s say for now it’s a forest arena, like in Katniss’ first game. The boy who all the Careers target first after the initial bloodbath, because of his small size and the way he mocked and poked fun at them throughout all of training, who is turning out to be notoriously difficult to find, who keeps up a series of raids on their camp to steal food supplies. The boy pegged as a runner rather than a fighter who manages to take out three of the Careers with the speed of a striking snake in a sneak attack and who disappears back into the trees with his newly acquired weapons before the other Careers even realize that they’ve lost some of their pack. The boy who is turning out to be a helluva lot deadlier than anyone had thought, who picks enemies only by necessity (i.e. tributes who are a little too close to his location, who have medicine or other essentials that he needs), who forms and drops alliances when it suits him to, who has no objective but survival.
This was the loveliest Benson’s episode ever. I mean, I’ve never seen him look so adorable and sweet like he was with Applesauce. Although he’s bad-tempered, negative and has a lot of anger issues, he demonstrated his suavity and his love by doing the cutest faces and talks ever, and looking so chill and happy. And I’m really proud of him. I hope he’s will be able to show all the love he has in the inside in other episodes like this. <3