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Gov. Gina Raimondo COVID-19 Press Conference: 11/19/2020, 1:00 pm

Watch Here
WJAR Stream if issues with link above or WPRI
Gov. Raimondo is expected to announce new restrictions for high schools (announced by WPRI and WJAR last night) as well as discuss Thanksgiving.
Self-promotion: Yesterday I started graphing data in a few other threads. It's really ugly right now and far from finished (I'll make a separate post on this sub when it's done) but I did start a GitHub site to view the graphs

11/19/2020 Data

RIDOH Dashboard

Gov. Gina Raimondo

Intro

Data

New Restrictions

Intro - Rationale

Path from now to end of the year

Current restrictions will be extended until the Sunday after Thanksgiving with two exceptions, effective immediately:

Thanksgiving

Beginning 11/30 - "RI on Pause"

Open

Limited

Completely Closed

Stimulus grants announced next week for affected businesses

Comments on "pause"

Improvements to testing

Question Highlights

Q: CDC saying that in-person learning is dangerous (I'm glad someone asked)
A: "I believe that question is a mis-characterization of the data" - referencing Dr. Jha She sounds MAD about this question "we could argue about the risk, but children will suffer irreparable lifelong harm not being in school" She is trusting HS students to follow rules and "districts should keep kids in school if they can"
Q: "Wasn't the idea with PPE/testing that we wouldn't have to go back? What happened?"
A: "It turns out people don't follow rules very well when we have to do it for so long"
Q: What is the goal in terms of ease of scheduling/getting test results and do we need to scale back asymptomatic testing?
A: It isn't a perfect system (waiting to get tested) but we are working to fix it. "It's hard for me to believe you can't get a test at all" Personal note: I'm currently trying to get tested (possible exposure at work even though I have no symptoms) and I had to go online to CVS at 3:00 in the morning to get an appointment 3 days later
Q: Isn't distance learning with a teacher better than in-person with a substitute? Is there a percentage (like NY) where we would switch to full distance?
A: High schoolers work better with distance learning but younger kids really struggle. NY: We do not use a single metric to determine whether to shut down - "as long as schools can keep the environment safe" we will keep them open.
Q: Thoughts on a possible 4-6 week lockdown or advisory to governors to do so under President Biden?
A: "If congress would do their jobs" and send an appropriate stimulus, we could discuss a lockdown in RI
Q: Why is Twin River open until 11/30?
A: "If I could shut everything down immediately I would do that" but there is a need to be practical (restaurants who have increased inventory for next week will still be able to use it)
Q: Crisis standards of care?
A (Dr. Scott): Principles to help hospitals make difficult ethical decisions about care - we do NOT want to get here. (Gina): We cannot staff that many beds - patients may have medical students as nurses or not get checked on at all. We may have to "shut off" non-COVID procedures
Q: Nursing home staffing (can people volunteer to bathe their family members, etc)?
A: "Caregiver exemption" is in the works (allowing family to get certified to give care similar to CNA)
Q: Is RI still independently validating vaccine data despite Pfizer pilot program?
A: Yes.
Q: Will you get vaccinated?
A: I will not be first in line (not necessary), but yes.
My apologies, I missed a few questions
Q: General assembly?
A: They will need to meet before 12/31 to pass a 2021 budget - a space is being set up at the Vets to allow a safe in-person meeting or they may choose to do so virtually
Q: HS sports?
A: Winter season cannot start until January - no practices at all during pause

End of conference (2:25pm)

submitted by ComputerGeek1100 to RhodeIsland [link] [comments]

Teen Titans #8 - Who is Cassie Sandsmark?

Teen Titans

In Illumination
Issue Eight: Who is Cassie Sandsmark?
Originally posted January 2018
 
 
Blüdhaven wasn’t good for much. An old whaling town, the dirty, industrial cityscape was later transformed by wealthy, criminal investors, building its industrial district into a neon paradise, a city-sized casino idyllic as long as you never looked beneath the surface.
And though the Teen Titans were almost always preoccupied with minimising the rampaging of emerging metahumans, they would often strive to tackle the crime that lurked in the shadows cast by the neon lights. One such criminal was André LeBlanc.
See, the smarmy and greasy Angel Marin, one of the ‘philanthropists’ so cherished in Blüdhaven had held an exhibition to show off the depths of his riches, including his star piece: the Night Diamond, a priceless gemstone. This naturally presented a challenge for the self-styled ‘world's greatest jewel thief’ LeBlanc.
He was a wanted man internationally due to his masterful skills and cutting edge tactics, but targeting the home of such a dangerous man as Angel Marin, LeBlanc was - even to his own admission - pushing his luck.
The thief darted silently down the crime lord’s corridor, his footfalls suppressed by his rebalancing boots and his hi-tech jumpsuit hiding him from thermal sensors despite its garish white colour. On his cracked face sat a green monocle, which LeBlanc used to scan for traps in real time. As he ran, LeBlanc gripped the azure jewel tightly, the diamond no bigger than a golf ball despite its exorbitant worth. The man’s agility and resolve was unmatched for someone of his age, but unfortunately his resistance came in the form of three meddlesome teenagers.
Angel Marin slept soundly in his bed, LeBlanc having eluded all of his security, but the Teen Titans had already seen the thief’s approach. Thanks to a recent upgrade to Cyborg’s tech, the teen was able to piece together a wealth of technological information sources to track LeBlanc all the way from his previous heist, and now they were moments from thwarting him.
LeBlanc pushed into the drawing room, the window he had entered through still cracked open. But as the man emerged through the open doorway, the oak door immediately pushed shut. The thief turned back towards the door, drawing a glowing, white knife to slash out at whoever had pushed the door to, only to find an empty place. Furiously, he pivoted back toward the window, now to find the shadowy figure of the blue-clad vigilante blocking his path. Nightwing. LeBlanc threw his arm out, slashing at the slender assailant, only for Nightwing to strafe aside with a boastful cartwheel. “No thanks!” Nightwing spat, springing off of the ground and throwing himself at the thief. Quickly, he struck with his twin sticks, aiming to disarm the thief as well as snatch the stone from him in one fell swoop, but André wouldn’t unhand his prize so easily.
The thief swung out once more, with Nightwing this time much closer. Before the vigilante could bounce back, he cried as the searing hot blade streaked across his chest, cutting through his black-and-blue armour as if it were butter, exposing his pale and bleeding flesh.
“Heh.”
Recoiling, the vigilante brought his hand across his chest, wiping the blood aside before clutching at his sticks once again. Nightwing leapt vertically and hooked his sticks around the industrial-looking chandelier above, using it to fling himself across the room to intercept the white-clad thief who continued his way to the open window. He landed and - stick still in hand - threw a fist out, striking LeBlanc cleanly in the nose.
The thief staggered, dazed. He would have just shot the kid if he had even brought a gun, though in his line of work a firearm was such a clumsy weapon. Narrowing his gaze on the dark figure he faced, LeBlanc focused himself. How strong could one kid be? Arrogant as ever, he then threw his knife aside and slipped the Night Diamond into his white satchel. He brought up his fists, ready to exchange blows.
The two men clashed, and quickly LeBlanc began to impress Nightwing as he dealt fast and powerful strikes. As they traded attacks, blocking and leaping up and down, they almost seemed to dance with each other, with LeBlanc using his streamlined gauntlets to deflect strikes from Nightwing’s escrima sticks. But LeBlanc caught Nightwing off-guard when he delivered a spinning kick to the vigilante’s head, flooring him with a manoeuvre Nightwing never would have expected from a man approaching forty. Though as LeBlanc turned away with a sneer, seemingly having bested the Gotham crimefighter, he turned to find himself face-to-face with none other than a towering, green gorilla. With a single punch, he was out.
“You know, I don’t know why you didn’t just let me just punch him sooner,” Gar grinned, morphing back to human form. As he rose from the ground, Dick produced a pair of black boxer shorts from his belt compartment, unfurling them and throwing them the way of the nude, green child as if it were a regular occurrence (which, by this point, it was).
“That’ll be because we’re sitting in the house of a dangerous gangster,” Dick smiled coolly, his hand pouring over his throbbing head, “Ever heard of ‘lowkey’?”
“Ah, you got me there!” Gar exclaimed, slightly quieter this time, “I’m many things but lowkey isn’t one of them.”
“Nice work though,” Dick replied, before activating his communicator, “Cyborg: you still on overwatch?”
Beat.
“Cyborg?”
Vic spluttered, suddenly bursting in over comms, “Yeah. Of course, sorry just got distracted by… things...”
“Finlay,” Dick continued, “Of course. I’m sorry. Look, head back to the roof of Iris Cove Casino, and we’ll regroup with you there.”
“Got it.”
Since Dick had discovered that it was an associate of Vic’s father, Jacob Finlay, who was responsible for stealing the Cyborg blueprints, as well as springing the metahumans that almost killed Vic, he had wanted nothing less than see the crooked physicist see what was coming to him. But what he couldn’t have expected was for the doctor to turn up dead - his neck wrenched - in Gotham River. It was a tragedy, and not at all what the man deserved.
The Teen Titans had attempted to follow up on the death, but had found nothing. That was until Dick received a clandestine call from Silas Stone.
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
The fifteen-year-old Cassandra Sandsmark emerged from the Music Box Theatre wide-eyed, her mind blown. Growing up in Buckinghamshire, England, Cassie had always dreamed of seeing a Broadway show, and it was every bit as amazing as she had expected it to be.
Her mother was an archaeologist, and therefore was often away for long periods of time, and when Cassie wasn’t couped up at her boarding school, her grandparents were too old and untrusting - despite their riches - to fly her out to New York. And though Cassie had finally gotten her wish, it was through the most distressing of circumstances. Now, though Cassie was raised by a strictly Christian family, she always found difficulty in believing in a God for one reason or another, so imagine her surprise when she was visited by the image of what appeared to be an angel, imploring her to flee to New York City, of all places, that she was being hunted and would only be safe within the bounds of that city so far across the pond. No answers, only urgency.
And so, the Fear of God firmly instilled in her, the fifteen-year-old stole as much money as she could from her grandfather’s bank account and grabbed the first plane ticket to the United States.
Though Cassie honestly didn't know what to expect. Upon arriving in the ‘greatest city in the world’ she had heard nothing from the otherworldly figure that had addressed her before, and she quickly began to realise that she couldn't occupy herself in her hotel room for very long. And hence, she decided to indulge herself in an overpriced visit to Broadway, and it was worth every penny to the young girl.
But now Cassie was lost once again. Cars hurtled past her along the wide road, as monolithic buildings stretched high into the jet black sky. There wasn't a moment of silence, the city filled with a cacophony of noise, even at this hour. Quickly, she pushed over to the nearest taxi, pulling her red hoodie up tight over her slender shoulders to keep out the quickly emerging chill. As the driver rolled his window down, Cassie doubled over, peering through the window to address him.
“Hello? Do you go to the White Ram Hotel?” she chirped in a polite tone.
“Do I!?” the driver exclaimed. He was a middle aged man with olive skin and a sleazy black tracksuit. “This ain't the subway. I’ll take you anywhere you want, hot stuff!”
“Excuse me?!” Cassie cried, pulling herself up. Sure, she was more developed than other girls in her year at school, but she was only fifteen. Surely he could see that! Right?
“I love me a British accent,” the driver sneered, “Say somethin’ sexy and I’ll give you half fare!”
Cassie was flustered and infuriated. Slamming her foot down on the pavement, she pushed away. “I’ll think I’ll walk, thank you very much!!”
And so Cassie took off down the street, walking against the flow of heavy traffic, the sounds of the city growing more fierce. Quickly, the black of the night seemed to slowly seep in around her, the darkness consuming her, but Cassie kept plodding on towards the White Ram.
As Cassie walked, a enigmatic presence lurked in the distance, watching her; stalking her from the shadows. There was a quality to Cassie, something powerful that just made her unignorable, something that called to the presence in the dark.
Unbeknown to this, Cassie continued on, eventually coming to pass the exterior of an old Irish pub that stretched along the street. Nervously, Cassie pulled up the hood of her red hoodie and picked up her pace, the footfalls of her black Chucks growing heavier against the concrete sidewalk. Something she’d call the pavement.
Though Cassie wouldn’t get off so easy as from the pub, right as she passed its doors, emerged three men of varying levels of intoxication, all swaying with the breeze. They each looked around thirty and each similarly struggled to keep their balance as they poured out onto the street. Quickly, one caught a glimpse of the young girl attempting to hurriedly make away, catching the side of her face as she walked past. “Hey!” He blurted out, steadying his lacking weight on his friend’s shoulder, bottle in hand. “You’re very pretty!! You should be… v… very proud.”
She ignored him and continued down the street, still a while off the next corner.
“Hey–” he repeated before bursting into a cry, “I SAID HEY!!”
Cassie jolted, glancing over her shoulder for just half second, enough time for a few of the boys to catch her eye. She turned away and continued on.
“HEY!!” Another man called after Cassie, this time annoyed, “He’s talking to you!!”
“Fucking bitch…” the first man mumbled to himself.
“No!” the third man called out, pulling the first man forward and snapping him out of his sulk, “N– No she doesn’t get to ignore you like that!!”
The third took off in a sprint after Cassie, continuing to define call out, “My friend wants to talk to you!!”
The first and second men looked to each other, too drunk to roll their eyes, and began to stumble after their leading friend. Cassie looked over her shoulder once more to see the three men clambering towards her. But before she could run, the man threw himself in the way of her path.
“No need to be rude…” he grumbled, his friends then catching up behind.
None of the men were cruel, but all were plenty menacing as they surrounded the 15-year-old girl, who stood alone and afraid in a city mostly unknown to her.
“Get out of my way…” Cassie seethed, her breath unsteady as she pretended to be as tough as she could muster.
“Ah! British!” exclaimed the youngest of the men, the one who had first noticed Cassie, “I like British!”
He placed a hand forcefully on Cassie’s shoulder as she faced away from him, and pulled her around to face him. “C’mere.” Instinctually, Cassie reacted, flinging herself back, and crashed into the chest of the man who had first pursued her.
“We ain’t gonna hurt ya!” the crushing man cried, only for Cassie to react by delivering a swift kick to the man’s groin. He fell quickly, groaning in pain.
“What the fuck, lady!?”
The man behind her jostled Cassie’s shoulder, threatened and enraged. Taking no shit, Cassie turned socked the man in the jaw, causing him to stagger back.
“Stay away from me!!” she cried before punching him once again, unaware of the third man behind her as he drew a knife.
But as the man threw himself forward to slash out at the increasingly violent young girl, out of nowhere flew a glowing gold chain that seemed to magically wrap itself around the wrist of the man’s knife hand. And with one quick tug, the man went flying several feet. Though as Cassie turned to see just what had occurred behind her, she saw not the floor assailant, but a woman, tall and draped in black, her skin lightly tanned and her hair as dark as her plated armour. “You need to come with me.”
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
The next morning, Dick Grayson pushed hurriedly through the S.T.A.R. Labs security checkpoint, already a registered visitor at this point. He didn’t know the cause of Silas summoning him, but he had guessed from the police cars lined up on the street outside that the scientist likely had information regarding Finlay’s death.
And as Dick entered the central lab, he was implicitly proved correct as he found Silas seated, the figure of a tall, muscular man in a beige coat and a black-banded, white cowboy hat. Immediately, Dick recognised the lone policeman as NYC Sheriff Saunders. It was rare that the man ever came out to investigate first hand since his election, and he and Dick had never crossed paths, especially while the latter was Nightwing.
“And… Dr Finlay: any reason to believe he had any enemies?” the Sheriff spoke in a gruff, deep tone, befitting of his fearsome silhouette and his fifty years of smoking. The man was no nonsense.
Silas took a second. A part of him wanted to pretend the man was a saint, but the truth was that he was far from it. Similarly Silas knew that what he had to said could incriminate himself, but was already worn down by the death of his coworker and his son shunning him for a second time. He had no time for lies.
“It was... I strongly suspect it was Finlay who allowed the meta thief - Selinda Flinders - to break into the lab. There, she not only freed her brother but also stole my blueprints for the cybernetics I used to treat my son from a safe that only myself and Finlay knew even existed.”
The Sheriff took a deep breath, still unaware of Dick standing in the doorway behind him. Carefully, he jotted down some notes in his small paper pad. “And what would Dr Finlay have wanted those… blueprints for? Industrial espionage?”
“No,” Silas sighed, “He wanted them so that he could save his brother the way I saved Victor, despite all my protests that the technology wasn’t ready.”
“His brother: This is Arthur Finlay, correct? Paralysed after a burglar attacked him in 2006.”
“That is correct.”
Saunders paused and took another long, deep breath, before launching into hurried speech. “Now it’s funny you should mention that as Arthur Finlay was nowhere to be found when we visited his estate earlier this week. Odd for a man who can't wipe his own ass.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s entirely possible that Dr Finlay– that Jacob succeeded in ‘fixing’ his brother.”
Beat.
The Sheriff smiled. “But that’s for me to chase up. Sorry, I shouldn’t have divulged that with you, - it’s as of current - entirely unfounded.”
“It’s fine.” Silas smiled tiredly, “We can all speculate. Now, if you don’t mind, I have another visitor.” Silas gestured graciously towards the door, where Dick Grayson was standing.
Sheriff Saunders looked across and his face immediately dropped, realising his mistake. “Ah, I see. Well, I won’t keep you then. Thank you for your insight, Dr Stone. We’ll be in touch.”
Quickly, the Sheriff wrapped up his notepad and made his way over to the door. As he exited, he tipped his hat towards the young spectator. “Nice to meet you, young man.”
And he was gone.
Silas stood, meeting Dick in the centre of the lab. “You know, I thought he’d never leave.”
“Was that it, Dr Stone?” Dick asked, perturbed, “You think Jacob’s brother killed him?”
Silas sighed. “That seems to be the leading theory, but no, that’s not why I called you.”
“Then what–”
“Christmas has come and passed, and this is the first year I’ve spent it without my Victor since he was born, the first year since my Elinore…”
Silas blinked.
“I wanted to give you a package. A gift. To give to Victor. A belated Christmas present.”
“He’s still not talking to you?”
Silas crawled along to his desk where, from a lower drawer, he produced a small purple box tied with a red bow, no bigger than a ring box. He held it out to Dick, his eyes so tired.
“Just please make sure Victor opens it,” he replied, “Won’t you do that for me, Richard?”
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
Silently, a robed figure approached the derelict apartment block in Avalon, Blüdhaven. This was the only known address for the Teen Titan known as Cyborg, but clearly circumstances had forced him to move on. The figure sighed, shaking her head before moving on.
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
“It was like my nan always said: that someday I’d feel something, and all that crap about burning bushes and… the big man in the sky would just slip into place.”
As Cassie spoke in the relative warmth of the drab, grey squat, her words were lost on Donna, who - despite having developed more than adequate conversation skills - had no idea what the young girl was talking about after she had asked her why she had come to New York City.
Cassie grinned, sat on the only chair in the apartment, as she registered her saviour’s bemusement. “I had a vision. It sounds crazy I know, but some angel came down and told me that… I was being hunted… and that I’d only be safe if I came to New York.” Her eyes were wild, as if she were reliving those impossible moments as she told the tale, “She told me some monster wanted to kill me, that it was the plan of the Gods that I remained safe. Truth is, I struggled believing in one God, never mind plural!”
Donna was beginning to understand, but remained bemused as she looked up from the floor to the girl she had found herself driven to protect. The idea that anyone could believe in just one God perplexed her. Surely there would be too many responsibilities for just one God to handle.
Shaking off her confusion, Donna stood up from the floor and made her way to the open window. Behind her, Cassie sat by the breakfast bar, wrapped in a shawl Donna had found in the bedroom. Donna needed to understand the connection she shared with this girl. They had to be connected somehow, or else what would explain the otherworldly, gut-wrenching pull towards her that Donna had experienced as soon as Cassie had stepped within a thousand mile radius.
Who was Cassie Sandsmark? That’s what Donna kept asking herself. What did Cassie mean to her? Though Donna supposed that to answer that question, she’d have to figure out just who she was herself.
Cassie sat up quickly, shrugging off her trepidation for the thrill of the adventure. “So is that it then?” she asked. Donna moved away from the glass to face her. “Are you my guardian angel? The person the vision said would protect me?” “I…?” Donna honestly didn’t know.
“Come to think of it: why are you wearing battle armour?” Cassie’s eyes were wide as she looked upon her fearsome protector, stood against the New York City skyline through the thin glass, “Are you - like - one of those Amazons? Like Wonder Woman?”
“NO.” Donna spat, suddenly recoiling. Immediately, she realised her mistake as she watched Cassie flinch back. Calmly, she elaborated. “No. I’m nothing like… I’m not Wonder Woman…”
“Oh.”
“But I think I am supposed to keep you safe… from whatever monster is trying to harm you.”
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
Vic fumbled with his keys, half distracted by his conversation with Gar as he stood in the hallway of his new apartment block on Payton Street, attempting to unlock the door. He’d gotten into his new place over Christmas, his last home desolated when Shimmer and Mammoth attacked him at his home.
“So the guy goes through all the trouble of hiring these supervillains to steal your… thing and then just mysteriously ends up dead?” Gar jested, his voice animated and non-serious.
Finally, Vic turned the key and the two entered into his new apartment. The place was much more spacious than Vic’s previous place, with a more open-planned layout which Gar definitely considered an upgrade. Though a winter chill emanated through the place, visually it was quite warm, the Christmas decorations still up and on full display almost a month later.
The guy was my dad’s friend, Gar.” Vic replied, irritated. “If he weren’t such a jackass, he’d be like my uncle, so please take this seriously.”
Vic pushed forward, pulling off his thick, grey hoodie and laying it across the arm of his couch along with his keys.
“Dude, he tried to kill you!” exclaimed Gar, “That doesn’t exactly scream close family friend.”
“A man is dead!” Vic snapped, his tone now deadly serious, something entirely unheard by Gar until now from his usually somber but amicable friend, “Get a grip.”
Gar lingered in the doorway. He took a deep breath. Vic was right. “I– I’m sorry, man. I guess that’s just how I cope with... things. He was your friend, I get it.” He stepped forward, slowly pushing the door shut behind him.
Jacob Finlay wasn’t a friend of Victor’s. In fact, Vic could never stand the man. But it saddened Vic deeply to know that he was gone, even after all the hurt he had caused him.
Slowly, Vic made his way over to the fridge, feeling his stomach yearn for a snack. He opened the metallic white door and looked upon its contents with disappointment. He sighed.
“I know we just got in, but do you fancy heading back out for food?” Gar suggested earnestly, “I know a diner that’s cool with people like us in downtown Blüd.”
’People like us’. Vic was used to that meaning something else, but he supposed he did have that in common with his plucky, if not crass, young friend. They were both outcasts due to their appearance. Vic was half-metal, Gar was green. On the rare occasions Vic had left the house as himself (rather than the superhero Cyborg) he made sure to never stay too long in one place, as to avoid anyone noticing his horrific visage under his shadowy hood.
“How do you mean?”
“This old couple owns the place,” Gar explained, “Man’s blind and the lady’s… well, actually open-minded and reasonable.”
Vic froze, actually considering the proposal. It’d been a long time since he’d sat down in a restaurant - however fancy - and eaten out. He looked to the empty, open fridge and then back to his discarded hoodie. His eyes flashed.
“Sure,” he smiled, “You wanna grab your coat this time? You’ve been complaining about the cold all day!”
Gar grinned back at Vic, deeply pleased by his response. “Yeah, one sec!” He ran, bounding across the floor and over to the hat stand Vic rarely seemed to use. From there, Gar pulled down his orange-red Parka and pulled it on in one fluid motion. As he did, Vic made his way to the couch and slipped back into his hoodie, zipping it up slowly.
The two smiled at each other and Vic - now stood closer to the door - pushed forward, wrapping his metal grip around the door handle and pulled it down. As he swung the door open, there stood a startled Dick Grayson, moments from ringing the doorbell"
“Woah!” Dick jumped.
“Dick!” Gar exclaimed, “We’re heading out to eat, you coming?”
“You?” Dick replied, pleasantly surprised to see Vic trying something new. “Uh, yeah… sure!”
From the pocket of his black pea coat, Dick produced the purple box he’d been handed earlier, nervously fidgeting with it between his hands slightly as he glanced up and down from it to Vic. “Though, uh… I actually came to give you this, Vic.”
Dick held the box out. Vic looked open-eyed to Gar and then back to him. “Dick, you already got me a Christmas present,” he laughed, walking over and taking the purple-wrapped present, eyeing it curiously.
“No, it’s… it’s from your dad. Cos you missed Christmas.”
Beat.
Vic looked back up to Dick. “Dick, I missed Christmas cos I can’t stand the man. He made me into this… thing, and it was his lies that almost got me killed.” Without even looking, Vic tossed the box over his shoulder, it hitting the ceiling and ricocheting before landing between the couch and the television.
“Vic…” Gar moaned disappointedly.
“What?!” Vic cried, “He’s human garbage. Has that brilliant mind and uses it to constantly fuck with my life. I don't need him. He’d be better off dead.”
Dick and Gar both looked at him in stunned silence. Dick’s eyes flitted back and forth and his moved out of the doorway and into the apartment. He looked to Gar, an orphan like himself, and then to Vic. He nodded. “How about we go get that dinner?”
Vic took a breath, calming himself. He nodded reluctantly, his confidence shaken but determined not to let his dad ruin his victory. “Right, yeah. Sure!” he affirmed himself. “I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”
“It’s fine.” Dick smiled, turning to face the open doorway, “Let’s just g–”
Just as Dick had moved, replacing him in the doorway was a tall, hooded figure: one none of the teens had met before yet one that all three recognised.
“Holy fuck!” Gar exclaimed, “It’s Wonder Woman!”
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
“I was speaking with my former teacher Athena after I sla–” “Wait, Athena?” Gar interrupted, starstruck, as if he were taking notes, “As in Popped Out of Zeus’ Forehead Athena?” Diana nodded solemnly. The Amazon sat on a kitchen chair, comfortably at a level to explain herself to the three young men, who each stood.
“Athena revealed to me a child of both Ares and Circe roamed the man’s world, that… an adversary of mine sought to hurt the child, for the misdoings Circe had committed against her.”
Diana told the tale, her eyes hollow as she seemed to hold back some inconvenient truths, something Dick picked up on easily, “I was told that I would find the child in New York City, and knew that Batman had established a strike team nearby. So here I am, hoping you can lend me your assistance.”
Dick sighed, running his hand through the front tuft of his dark hair. He’d never met the Amazon warrior before, but knew that she and Bruce were friendly, with Diana being part of his ‘Justice League’ initiative. But Dick was disappointed to hear how the Teen Titans were perceived by the older heroes. “Batman had nothing to do with it. I formed this team, uh… we formed this team. Together.”
Diana smiled. “Of course.”
“So that’s all you know?” Vic replied, addressing the matter at hand, “Some kid is in danger in New York City. No idea whereabouts?”
“That was where I was hoping that you could help me,” said Diana, addressing Vic directly.
Vic smiled softly to have garnered any sort of attention from somebody as powerful and well… beautiful as Wonder Woman. “Well I suppose we could tr–”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with that other Wonder Chick running about New York? Does it?” Gar interjected, perhaps a bit louder than he had intended.
Diana cocked her head, moving her vision away from Vic and towards Gar, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“This amazing, gorgeous warrior. Long, flowing black hair. This awesome armour, all jet black and mysterious. She looked a lot like you actually.”
Diana’s eyes darted open as she bolted to her feet. Could it be? The doppelganger she had faced in the Trials, who had fought with her own skill and ferocity.* Had Ares sent her here? It was more than possible that she was an emissary of Ares, posthumously working to secure Ares’ progeny.
It was as Athena had said to Diana: death was the only way to transfer the mantle of God of War.*
“Gods…” she groaned, “I’ve fought her before. She is far more dangerous than the woman I seek to stop. If she gets her hands on Ares’ daughter, the consequences could be dire. We need to find them both and pray that she hasn’t already found her.”
Dick stepped forward. “I’ve been trying to locate this black-armoured Amazon since Gar ran into her a couple months back. She’s been being very discrete. I’ve tried everything.”
Vic stepped forward. “I haven’t.”
 
♦ ♦ T ♦ ♦
 
“Don’t you have any games? Or a telly or something?” Cassie sighed, stood peering out of the frosted window onto the New York skyline.
Telly?” Donna asked, standing a few feet behind Cassie, surrounded by a whole load of nothing. “I’m afraid not. This place doesn’t have much outside of shelter, and sometimes warmth.”
“Then what do you do for fun?” Cassie had been cooped up in Donna’s squat for some time now and was beginning to grow restless. Despite the drab decor, the place was an improvement on sitting alone in her hotel room, but the boredom was killing her.
“I’ve found the city to be the best source of entertainment,” Donna explained very matter-of-factly, “Although I think it might be best for us to stay put until we know you are safe.”
“And when is that? When the thing hunting me gets bored? When I get a follow up message from the angel?”
“I don’t think that was an angel.”
“That isn’t the point!” Cassie groaned, frustrated. “I just wanna have some fun!”
Donna stopped. She thought for a moment and then nodded. “Alright.”
Donna couldn’t recall much of her past, but did remember one thing that she had always enjoyed: combat. She didn’t remember all the details, but Donna used to love sparring as a child, with Diana, the monster that now plagued her nightmares. It was always so exciting, and it really seemed to develop an interpersonal closeness between the combatants. She smiled before removing her silver gauntlets slowly.
“Here.”
“What?” Cassie asked.
“Take them.” Donna held the gauntlets out for Cassie, one in each hand. Carefully, the younger girl took them and slipped her wrists into them.
“They’re too big.”
Donna grinned as the gauntlets seemed to magically adjust, twisting and forming into a perfect fit around Cassie’s forearms. Donna then flicked her own wrist forward, causing a cloud of black smoke to erupt from the palm of her hand. Cassie recoiled, watching the black smoke move and stretch before giving way to the form of a solid, golden sword. Donna gripped the blade tightly and pointed it forward.
“Wait, what?”
“We shall fight?”
Fight?!
“Well, you won’t have a weapon, so it’s more like exchanging blows. I’ve found it quite enjoyable.”
“Right…” Cassie replied, reluctant, “So what’s gonna happen?”
“I will make an attack with my blade, and you shall bring up your gauntlets to intercept. You’ll find them more than capable of deflecting my attacks.”
“Like…?” Cassie practiced thrusting her arms back and forward, flashing the silver gauntlets as she moved.
“Exactly! We’ll start slow.”
And they did. Beat-by-beat, Donna would move the sword towards Cassie, giving her plenty of time to bring up her gauntlets to clink against the blade. One strike. Two strikes. Three strikes. Four. Gradually, Donna increased her speed, and with her Cassie would begin to move with increasing ease and agility. She was a natural.
As they grew more and more rapid, their movements also increased in intensity. Before they knew it, both began to shift their footing until they were dancing back and forth around the room, sparks flying each time Donna’s blade crashed against Cassie’s forearms. First, Cassie began to cackle with laughter, then allowing Donna to join with a more conservative chuckle. But all this ceased with a knock at the door.
They stopped. Cassie glanced over to the door first, then Donna. They weren’t expecting visitors. Donna flourished the blade in her hand, furrowing her brow and narrowing her gaze, ready to attack whatever came through.
And just as expected, the door came crashing, the wood obliterated into splinters. Through it leapt a fearsome warrior clad in red and gold, a beast of a woman, a terrifying figure. The demon Diana.
Nightwing had tried to knock, but the Amazon warrior wasn’t willing to wait. Bursting into the room, Diana charged at Ares’ puppet, seeing her with her blade drawn, the young Cassie Sandsmark terrified beside her.
Donna slashed out as Diana came crashing down on her, unarmed yet incredibly dangerous, but the strike was fruitless as Diana evaded with ease, delivering a mighty punch to the centre of Donna’s chest. Diana of Themyscira didn’t need a weapon.
Donna stumbled, kicking over a small coffee table as Cassie scrambled out of the way. The demon moved incredibly quickly, far faster than Donna could comfortably comprehend. She hadn’t been this fast when they’d fought before. First, another punch to the chest, then grabbing Donna by the arm - catching her sword strike - to pull her close, only to pound her back into the ground.
As Donna hit the ground, she skidded, whipping back around onto her feet, beaten but ready to persist. “Your master is dead,” Diana seethed, “And you shall fall with the rest of his forces!”
As the two warriors clashed, Cassie scurried away, ducking and running for the door. However, she found herself blocked by the bodies of three young men: one some kind of robot man, one green and the other clad in blue and black spandex. “Ack!”
“We’re not gonna hurt you!” Cyborg panicked, holding his large, cold hands up.
“Like shit you don’t!” Cassie spat, her teeth clenched, pivoting back around to watch her friend fight off the red-and-gold blur of a woman. Wait... That was Wonder Woman!
Donna grumbled, moving her sword arm back and shifting her off-hand forward. She then allowed her bronze shield to materialise magically in her grip with a flash of amber light. “I see you have new toys.” Diana smirked, her gaze as steely as her black-clad doppelganger.
She was right. Donna recalled easily that in their last encounter, the one that haunted her, she fought Diana unarmed. Now, Donna couldn’t recall how she came to wield the magic required to summon her weapons, but she was more than happy to use them if it meant having an edge over the tyrant that had previously terrorised her.
Donna didn’t reply. Instead, she threw herself forward, shifting her weight rapidly across the wooden floorboards, heaving the mass of her shield against Diana enough to stagger her, giving her an opening to strike with her blade. Diana cried out and kicked, colliding her leg into her adversary’s shield and dragging her strike to the right.
Donna saw through this trick immediately, it was an attempt to disarm; to wrench the shield right from her hand. It wouldn’t work. Not if Donna kept as best a grip as she could. However, Donna had underestimated the strength of her foe, and subsequently found herself launched across the room along with the shield, leaving her sword by her feet, crashing down on a pile of wood in the corner of the shabby apartment.
She attempted to pull herself up, but couldn’t, her armour too heavy on top of the weight of her aching bones. Diana persisted however. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself over to her floored quarry, scooping her foe’s blade off of the ground as she moved. Finally, she stopped. Planting her crimson boots into the wooden floor, Diana loomed over Donna, a relentless, fearsome monster.
Diana looked upon her quarry, this supposed emissary of Ares, deliberating over her fate. Perhaps she had overestimated her, for the puppet Diana had fought during the Trials fought with such ferocity and intensity that she now found entirely lacking. It was as if she was another soul inhabiting the body of that abomination.
But that moment of hesitation on Diana’s part was exactly what Donna need to act. In one fluid motion, Donna burst from her pile on the floor with new mobility. After delivering a kick to the monster’s head, Donna swung her empty hand out in a wide arc. Instantly, the sword vanished from Diana’s grip, reappearing in Donna’s own with a black flicker.
As Diana staggered, Donna let loose with slash after slash before finally winding up for an overhead attack, a killing blow. However–
“STOP!!”
A shock wave exploded through the room, launching its contents as well as the two combatants. Donna hit the ground and skidded once more. Bloodied, she looked up to see Cassie between her and Diana, her silver gauntlets glowing white hot, her face mortified.
“She doesn’t want to hurt you!” she screamed to Donna before turning to look upon Diana, scraping herself off of the floor, “You don’t want to hurt each other.”
Donna stood up uneasily, her eyes still wild, waiting for Diana to attack once again.
“I…” Diana mumbled, gripping her bloodied arm.
“You’re Wonder Woman. You save people.” Cassie explained, her voice compassionate yet quivering, “And I don’t need saving. Not from Donna. She’s my friend.”
Diana painted, finally looking upon her adversary with new eyes, “... Donna?
Donna’s eyes flickered, filled with doubt. She looked to Cassie, then finally to Diana, and instead of a demon, saw an injured woman. She lowered her sword.
Diana saw this and recalled her parting words to the black-clad warrior, when Diana had pummeled her into the bloody waters during the Trials. 'Barely real and always a copy. What kind of emptiness must exist inside you?'
But when she focused on Donna’s eyes, those that so closely resembled her own, she saw not the rage she had seen during the Trials, but fear. Pure fear. There, she remembered.
“Great Hera, what have I done…” Diana groaned, looking upon her friend with a long forgotten familiarity. “Donna…”
But the moment wouldn’t last, for Gar was moments too late to cry out, warning them as a fearsome feline figure crashed through the window, emerging from the urban jungle of New York City’s skyline. There, the animal moved immediately for Diana, launching into an all out assault, no longer Dr Barbara Minerva, but The Cheetah.
 
 
Continued in Wonder Woman #21
 
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Here’s your morning coffee!

Good morning, hope everyone trades responsibly, let’s make some money!

DOW JONES

Boeing Company (BA) - Air Lease (AL) updated on its order book deliveries, sales and new significant financing occurring in Q2; at the end of the quarter, its fleet was comprised of 301 owned aircraft and 81 managed aircraft, with 398 new aircraft on order from Boeing and Airbus (EADSY) set to deliver through 2026; it delivered one new Airbus A320neo aircraft from its order book, and sold four aircraft.
Johnson & Johnson (JNJ) is facing calls from over 170 nonprofit groups to stop selling its talc-based Baby Powder worldwide, over concerns that it contains cancer-causing Asbestos, while some are also calling for the clearing of existing inventories.
Walgreens Boots Alliance (WBA) Q3 20 (USD): Adj. EPS 0.83 (exp. 1.17), Revenue 34.6bln (exp. 34.36bln), FY20 Adj. EPS view 4.65-4.75 (exp. 5.42); Suspending share repurchase programme, raises quarterly dividend to USD 0.4675/shr, a 2.2% increase. US Retail Pharmacy SSS +3.0% (exp. +1.2%). Most significant COVID-19 impact was in the UK market which required a review resulting in a non-cash impairment charge of USD 2bln. Boots (UK) will be cutting around 4,000 jobs. Annual cost savings to be in excess of USD 2bln by FY2022.

NASDAQ 100

Alphabet Inc (GOOG/GOOGL) said it has shut down its cloud project named “Isolated Region” and added that it was not weighing options to offer its cloud platform in China; earlier reports had stated that GOOG had shelved the project in China and other politically sensitive countries in May, partly due to rising geopolitical tensions and the pandemic; GOOG, however, added that the project’s shutdown was not due to either of those two reasons and that it has not offered cloud platform services in China.
American Airlines Group (AAL) / United Airlines (UAL) have temporarily halted flights to Hong Kong after its government-imposed coronavirus testing requirements for airline crews, according to Politico.
Costco Wholesale Corp. (COST) June sales update saw comparable sales (ex-gasoline and FX) rose 13.6% in the June five-week period, accelerating from the +9.2% seen in May, beating forecasts for around 9% growth.
Facebook, Inc. (FB) announced it is starting a chat with a business using QR codes, where people can scan QR codes businesses show at stores, product packaging or receipts to start a chat. It notes there are over 50mln WhatsApp Business app users globally every month.
Gilead Sciences (GILD) plans to make more of its drug remdesivir available for Germany and Europe from the fall, and will decide how much each country gets based on the rate of infection; it added that it could increase its worldwide monthly production from currently 190,000 treatment cycles to two million treatment cycles in December. Remdesivir is currently the only drug granted a conditional marketing authorisation by the EU for its use in COVID-19 patients.Oracle Corp. (ORCL) (Information Technology/Application Software) has been awarded a cloud services agreement by the Canadian government.

S & P 500

Carnival Corp. (CCL) Aida cruises are to recommence sailing vacations in August.
Ford Motor (F) said its China vehicle sales increased 3% in April-June from a year earlier, its first quarterly sales rise in China in almost three years; China sales grew by 158,589 units in Q2, attributed to the rise to a stronger vehicle line up and “strong demand following the lifting of COVID-19 pandemic restrictions”.
Mylan NV (MYL) announced it received FDA approval for its Hulio, a biosimilar to AbbVie Inc. (ABBV) Humira, for the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis.
Twitter, Inc. (TWTR) has been accused of being biased against conservatives and demanded information about its reactions to two tweets by President Donald Trump; two GOP lawmakers allege TWTR’s content moderation was not neutral. Meanwhile, analysts at Citi note its shares overreacted to the potential subscription service reports yesterday. Analyst Jason Bazinet says although it makes sense, there are many unknowns, such as the price and whether or not it will have advertisements. The analyst highlights that a consumer survey shows roughly 10% of its respondents were willing to pay for a USD 5/mth plan without ads and more analytic services. Citi estimates if such a service were to occur, it would be priced at USD 20/year internationally and USD 60/year in the US, assuming a 5% penetration for base case and 10% for its bull case with advertisements, the analyst believes the revenue contribution would be limited. Citi maintain a neutral rating.
United Continental Holdings (UAL) expects to recognise USD 300mln in employee separation charges in Q2, with USD 50mln to be in cash.
ViacomCBS (VIAC) reached a deal to stream all the UEFA Champions League and Europa League matches starting in August.

OTHER

Bed Bath & Beyond (BBBY) Q1 20 (USD): Adj. EPS -1.96 (exp. -1.22), revenue 1.31bln (exp. 1.39bln). Announced it is to close 200 stores over two years as sales fell around 50% during pandemic; BBBY said it was not reporting comp sales due to temporary store closures.
DocuSign (DOCU) had its PT upgraded at Wedbush to USD 240 (prev. USD 165, prev. closing price 206.35). The analyst “continues to believe DOCU’s deal flow is holding up well/stronger than expected in this Covid-19 pandemic environment which bodes well for strong underlying metrics/headline numbers during FY2Q”.
DraftKings (DKNG) and Twin River Worldwide (TRWH) Mardi Gras Casino announced the opening of DKNG’s temporary sportsbook at the casino in Black Hawk, Colorado. Guests can place bets at the sportsbook from 10th July.
Energy Transfer (ET) provided further clarification around news reports regarding the operations of the Dakota Access Pipeline, stating that it has never suggested that it would defy a court order. Rather, Dakota Access Pipeline was seeking appropriate relief from that order through the established legal process.
Japan Display (6740 JT) : FY group net loss JPY 101.42bln (prev. net loss JPY 106.59bln), operating loss JPY 38.54bln (prev. loss JPY 27.23bln), recurring loss JPY 57.76bln (prev. JPY 40.37bln).
Moderna (MRNA) announced a collaboration for large-scale commercial fill-finish manufacturing of its vaccine candidate with Rovi.
PTC (PTC) expects to deliver fiscal third quarter 2020 ARR growth of 9% year over year, 10% in constant currency; and also expects to deliver double-digit revenue and free cash flow year-over-year growth for the fiscal third quarter 2020; it will report results on 29th July.
Restaurant Brands (QSR) Burger King in the UK is warning of 1,600 potential job losses as it could close up to 10% of its restaurants
SAP (SAP GY, SAP) – Q2 prelim: total revenue EUR 6.74bln, +2% (+1% non-IFRS), operating profit EUR 1.28bln, +55% YY (+8% non-IFRS), non-IFRS cloud revenue EUR 2.04bln +21% YY (19% non-IFRS). At present, cloud backlog seen at EUR 6.65bln, +20%, cloud backlog remains strong but cloud revenue in Q2 was impacted by lower pay-as-you-go transactional revenue given COVID-19. Reiterates FY20 outlook. For FY20: confirm non-IFRS revenue EUR 27.8-28.5bln vs. Prev. EUR 27.6bln, cloud revenue EUR 8.3-8.7bln vs. prev. EUR 7.0bln, operating profit EUR 8.1-8.7bln vs. Prev. EUR 8.2bln. Have seen a strong sequential improvement compared to Q1 regarding software license revenue. Q2 & H1 results will be released on 27th July.
Siemens (SIE GY, SIEGY) – Are to spin off 55% of Siemens Energy to shareholders will equate to 1 Siemens Energy share for 2 Siemens shares. Initial listing of new shares is scheduled for 28th September 2020, will commence with a BBB rating at S&P. Siemens will retain a 35.1% stake in the spin-off and the Siemens pension trust an additional 9.9% stake, as such Siemens no longer has a controlling share. Further stake reductions could take place at a significant scale in the next 12-18 months. Separately, Co. are not planning any job reductions from COVID-19. For reference, in FY19 Siemens Energy generated revenue of circa EUR 29bln according to Siemens AG combined statements.

Additional US Equity Stories

Of note for Social Media names (FB, TWTR, SNAP), ByteDance is reportedly considering a change in the corporate structure to distance the app from China, and is also considering a TikTok HQ outside of China, according to WSJ.
Peloton (PTON) new product will probably not be a rowing machine or exercise bike, its CFO announced, but it could potentially be a lower price treadmill. The CFO stated the co. believes “the running and boot camp category is two-to-three [times] the size of the bike category”, adding it is first and foremost on their minds, reports Barron’s.
Walgreens Boots Alliance (WBA) CFO says towards the end of Q3 online volume sales reached Black Friday levels on a daily basis, and May sales increased almost 120%, with June sales growth even higher.
Tesla (TSLA) CEO Musk announced the automaker was "very close" to developing fully autonomous vehicles and could work out the basics of that technology as soon as this year; he reiterated that the electric vehicle maker has solved most of the essential challenges toward achieving fully self-driven cars that needs no human behind the wheel. The Tesla and SpaceX chief was reaffirming a goal first expressed in 2019.
Delta AIrlines (DAL) CEO reiterates urge for workers to consider voluntary departure., and announced it flew 20% of customers over the July 4th weekend.
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Man Allegedly Stalked, Robbed at Rhode Island's Twin River Casino

Man Allegedly Stalked, Robbed at Rhode Island's Twin River Casino submitted by LVsportsbetting to RhodeIsland [link] [comments]

Houston Rockets off-season GM write-up

GODDAMIT. BEEN SITTING ON THIS FOR A MONTH, AND NOW IT'S ALL BEEN BLOWN TO SHIT.

Maybe it stays the same since Morey was likely 'inspired' to step down so that Tilman could get the China money back and will continue assisting the new regime from the shadows, but as I have no clue at all what the future is going to bring and don't want to re-write this piece for the planned 'GM write-up' series that was supposed to be starting after the Finals, I'm just gonna drop it here and let anyone else who wants to take over do it.
FUCK TILMAN FERTITTA.
I'm out.

State of the team

After a disappointing bubble performance that did not end in a Championship, many people are questioning if the Rockets window has officially closed. In all likelihood, it has; but it is not yet locked, so with the right moves it can be opened enough to squeeze out another deep run or two that can finally break through if the team finds a brick of luck for once.
What those right moves are and how to accomplish them are the challenge posed to Daryl Morey and his crew. There are a number of constraints that will make this difficult, including a lack of draft assets and moveable contracts that are not integral to the team's success, but the most challenging proposition will again be owner Tilman Fertitta's finances.
While some critics may believe that the Rockets small ball experiment was a failure, management will likely point to the fact that 'defense' was not nearly as much of a problem in the playoffs as 'offense' and that Russell Westbrook's obvious impairment from a quad injury was the primary factor in underachieving desired expectations. The general belief in the front office is that the formula is not broken so much as unlucky. Another couple of chances will hopefully bring the health necessary for a breakthrough.
Daryl Morey's top-stated priority entering the off-season was re-signing coach Mike D'Antoni. Well, D'Antoni ended any talk of that by opting to take his services elsewhere before the team plane had even departed Orlando. This leaves the team in search of a new head coach before any other moves can really be considered, since whoever gets the position will likely hope to have a bit of say in any of the roster decisions that need to be made.
The team is casting a wide net in their search having interviewed candidates like frontrunners Tyronn Lue and Jeff Van Gundy, as well as Kenny Atkinson, Wes Unseld Jr., and Stephen Silas. The new coach will need to garner the instant respect of a veteran-laden team (possibly possessing enough cachet to actually inspire a different style of play?), and may need to fulfill Fertitta's desire to make headlines, favoring a big-name hire. It must be included that there is even a slim chance that D'Antoni returns to the role now that Doc Rivers has swooped his pre-supposed landing spot in Philly, but I expect the final candidates may come from the following list of assistant coaches and thus (completely coincidentally) cheaper names in case a need arises to go in another direction:
Sam Cassell - The former Rockets legend is currently serving as an assistant coach for Doc Rivers. Frequently cited as one of the top assistants ready to take the next step. As a former All-Star point guard, he may be able to command the respect of Westbrook and Harden enough to offset his lack of head coaching experience. His big balls could "Make Houston Clutch Again".
John Lucas - The Rockets Assistant Coach is very familiar with the system and the current players. He provides continuity and a cheap, short-term contract that would allow for an easy 'out' if things do not work in the next year or two (which is the optimistic extent of the title hopes for this current iteration of the Rockets)
Chris Finch - An ex-RGV Vipers Head Coach now working as an assistant in New Orleans. He is a savant on offense, on very good terms with Morey and his philosophy, and due for his 'chance' in the bigs. Given the success of Nick Nurse, another coach who won a G-League Championship for the RGV Vipers, I feel as if Chris Finch should end up getting the call (although he appears to have dropped off the radar).
The new head coach will have a challenging job of needing to instantly compete with a roster of vets who are notorious for not being as flexible in their approach to the game as might be desired. This team is not only 'set' in its ways mentally to the point where an attempt to change the team philosophy could easily backfire and result in another lost season, it is also relatively 'set' in its ability to make personnel changes. So expect the new coach to provide more of an 'extension' of the current Moreyball philosophy than a completely different style.

2021 Houston Rockets Roster and Salary

PLAYER NAME SALARY CAP HIT DETAILS (contract values rise)
Russell Westbrook 41,358,814 2 more yrs + player option
James Harden 41,254,920 2 more years + player option
Eric Gordon 16,869,276 4 more years
Robert Covington 12,138,345 2 more years
PJ Tucker 7,969,537 expiring
Danuel House 3,717,000 2 more years
Ben McLemore 2,283,034 expiring
Chris Clemons 1,517,981 2 more years of team options
David Nwaba 1,862,250 team option
TOTAL 128,971,157
Things look relatively straight-forward for the Rockets. All of their main rotation guys are already signed and set to return with the exception of Jeff Green and Austin Rivers. The Rockets are prime candidates to start the season off by basically "running it back".
Considering Green has enjoyed great success in Houston's system and seems to have established good chemistry within his role in the system, he will absolutely be considered an important piece to re-sign. He has played on minimum-level contracts for the past few years, so unless another contender surprisingly decides to use part of their MLE on him, he should be able to return on a 1+1 veteran minimum contract.
Austin Rivers has a player option for $2,369,663. It is considered highly unlikely that he will opt-in to this (although he will be welcomed back with open arms if he does). If he leaves, the team will likely look to find a replacement ball-handleperimeter defender.
The hopeful addition of Jeff Green to the list of signed players takes the team to a total of 10 contracts, meaning Morey will look to add 5 more players into the fold.
Positional needs:
The Rockets took one big step closer to the idea of 'position-less' basketball by banishing their traditional centers last season. The big question is, will they continue this philosophy into 2021?
The answer to this may partially depend upon who the next coach is. As previously stated, the advanced age of this particular roster resulting in an extremely small window for success, combined with the players' familiarity with the current roles and system and the reduced off-season leads me to believe that the small ball experiment will continue into the 2021 season. Not only was it proven effective offensively at unlocking the best version of Russell Westbrook since his 2017 MVP campaign, the hybrid switching system the team utilized in the first half of the season to account for Clint Capela's reduced ability to guard perimeter players was not as successful as the switch-everything system the team implemented in the playoffs; so unless the team can get a larger center who can effectively switch 1-5, it is unlikely that 'Center' is going to be seen as a top priority.
Look for the team to try to focus their search on finding long, stretchy, big forwards, as they did with the late-season signings of Jeff Green, DeMarre Carroll, and David Nwaba. They will also try to fill the position of 'tertiary ball handler' should Rivers choose to go elsewhere.
Although Austin may sign another 1+1 minimum deal with the team, it is more likely that he will look for a bigger role (and payday) on another team. There is a small chance he could be used in a sign and trade (Houston has his Early Bird Rights allowing him to sign a contract up to around $8M), so he may serve as salary filler in building a larger sign & trade, but note that such a move will surely push Houston well into the luxury tax, bringing us to...
Luxury Tax Issues:
The expected threshold will probably fall around $132-133M. Houston is brushing up against that with only 9 players under contract currently.
Bear in mind that ownership has suffered catastrophic economic distress this year due to Fertitta's business interests in casinos and restaurants (not to mention that he was never interested in paying tax even in better times with a stronger team). Unlike this season, next year should see a large cash pay-out to non-tax teams as many contenders who were below the tax last year due to their participation in Free Agency will be utilizing exceptions that push them into the luxury tax (Golden State in particular has been making overtures at filling its TPE, which would result in one of the largest tax bills on record). Despite his questionable claims that he is financially solvent and ready to pay tax to field a contender, Tilman Fertitta will be happy to be an owner that avoids paying tax again and instead receives a check from the league. Daryl Morey will have his work cut out for him to achieve that, but after accomplishing it in 2019 and 2020 with masterful tax-reducing moves at the trade deadline, there is little doubt he can (and likely will) do it again in 2021. 2 years ago, he reduced Ryan Anderson's $20M contract through a series of moves to Iman Shumpert's $12M and last year he reduced Capela's $17M hit to Covington's $11M bill. Eric Gordon's $17M is the obvious candidate for reduction this year, and there are a variety of ways in which it could be done.

Potential roster moves

Draft
Per usual, Houston does not have any draft picks. They do have almost $5M in cash remaining with which they could purchase a draft pick (potentially even 2 late ones); but most likely Morey will work the pool of undrafted talent to try to find a couple new 2-way contract candidates.
Free Agency:
There are unlikely to be any major moves in the off-season aside from signing 6 players to veteran minimum contracts. Jeff Green and Gerald Green are likely signings. Michael Frazier may have earned a promotion to the main squad, but will more likely continue to stay in the G-League on a 2-way contract. Tyson Chandler and Austin Rivers are candidates who are less likely to be re-signed, but may end up filling the same roles they did this year. Otherwise, expect Morey to take fliers on guys who have high upside in the system that are cut by other teams or don't get the larger contracts they are hoping to find and willing to take short term deals in Houston in an effort to rebuild their value.
Although technically below the tax, using the Full MLE would hard-cap the Rockets at a level providing almost no flexibility for in-season maneuvers, something Morey despises, so the taxpayer mini-MLE is the only practical option available this off-season. However, if avoiding the luxury tax is a priority (Narrator: "It is."), then using the MLE at all is not going to be feasible. Houston has avoided using the MLE for the past 2 seasons (with the exception of utilizing small portions of it to lock up undrafted players on cheap 3-year deals), and is likely to follow in that path this year.
Morey traditionally does his best work at the trade deadline, and will likely look to that time frame again in the 2021 season.
There is one (unlikely) way that the Rockets could utilize their full MLE - by sending a current player to another team for less salary in return, leading us to...
Trades:
The Rockets do not have a lot of positive-value contracts they can part with that are not a critical part of their core.
Danuel House is on a good contract, and the team may be looking to move him if they believe his bubble antics were problematic for future chemistry. He could likely be moved with no problem. This would also be an easy way to cut a couple million dollars in salary, if necessary.
PJ Tucker and Robert Covington are also on good deals, but are crucial to the Rockets scheme. It is extremely unlikely they will be dealt. James Harden and Russell Westbrook are also unlikely to go anywhere in the off-season. If disaster strikes or a deal that can't be refused arises, then there is a small chance one or more of these 4 could be moved at the deadline.
As stated before, Eric Gordon is the most likely candidate to be traded. While his improved bubble play may have gotten his contract closer to 'neutral' value, it is likely that a pick would need to be attached to it in order to bring back a player of value, particularly from a rebuilding team, which is also the traditional place where he could be sent into cap space to avoid bringing back 80% in matching salary. However due to his age and injury history, he is probably only of interest to a team that fancies itself as 'contending' for something. There is a small chance that he could be sent to Golden State, as his contract fits within their Traded Player Exception and he fills a position of need, but it is unlikely that Houston is anxious to improve a conference rival (however, the idea that he could possibly bring back draft capital and increase the size of the league's payout check to non-taxpaying teams make this a scenario that can not be discarded outright).
Sending Gordon into space is the best way for Houston to access its full MLE (as well as creating a hefty TPE of their own). However, it would likely have to happen in the window after the draft and before free agency shakes out in order to be an option. And it would likely entail losing Houston's only first round pick that is available for trade, making later moves more difficult (so I don't expect this to happen).
Available Picks that can be traded:

YEAR ROUND DETAILS/NOTES
2021 1 worst of HOU, OKC, MIA
2022 1 cannot be used this year in conjunction with the 2021 pick
2021 2 swap rights with Philadelphia
2024 2 from GS
*All of the team's own second round picks from 2024 and beyond
Houston does not have a lot of draft capital. Morey will surely look to use the 2021 first at the trade deadline to move a contract, allowing him to keep the 2022 first (Houston's last tradeable first round pick thanks to the Stepien Rule) for use next year if necessary.
Possible scenarios:
Which contract(s) and for what type of deal are the only questions, and only time will tell what those needs are (best player available/positional need/salary cap savings) and how to best fulfill them. There are a ton of options and no one can tell what sort of needs or opportunities will arise by mid-way through next season. But by waiting to strike until that point, Morey maximizes his potential to do the best thing for the team going forward, whether it is a small move for tax savings, a big splash for a disgruntled superstar, or even the beginning of a total rebuild.
Waiting until the deadline also gives guys like Gordon and Westbrook a chance to overcome the injuries that plagued them in 2020 and raise their trade value. Trading either one of these contracts for multiple smaller contracts (at 80% value) is the fastest and easiest way to get to within striking distance of avoiding the tax again this year, and allowing Morey to 3-peat in cap wizardry.
I suppose I'll predict that 1) Gordon and a pick will be headed someplace like Philadelphia, who could use his shooting (maybe for Josh Richardson and Zaire Smith?) or perhaps, 2) Morey will work with Monte McNair in Sacramento to do a deal for someone (maybe Nemanja Bjelica and Jabari Parker?), much like he did with his other recent protégé-turned-GM, Gersson Rosas, at the 2020 deadline.
Of course, there is always the chance that Fertitta will find some money in his couch cushions, or have a come-to-Jesus moment that inspires him to pay the tax, which would open up the possibility of trading for a player who makes equal or more money or potentially even using the MLE this year. In the extremely off-chance that that happens, a perfect candidate would be Myles Turner in Indiana, who would provide the stretch-big rim protector that would fit so well in Houston's system. Aaron Gordon would also fit really well into Houston's system as long as he can hit a corner 3. Doing either of these trades and avoiding the tax is within the realm of feasibility if another contract (e.g. House or Tucker's) is included with Gordon's.
And to wrap this up, a few potential FA targets to use the MLE (or a potential S&T) on if it somehow becomes possible: Serge Ibaka, Jerami Grant, Aaron Baynes, Davis Bertans, Bogdan Bogdanovich, a Morris twin, Danilo Gallinari, Anthony Davis.
submitted by FarWestEros to nbadiscussion [link] [comments]

Xavier DuPont de Ligonnès Article from Society, 6 Aug 2020, Part 2C [English]

Xavier DuPont de Ligonnès Article from Society, 6 Aug 2020, Part 2C [English]
Previous Section-Part 2B
[3/5]
Chapter 9

Highways and dead ends

The hunt for Xavier Ligonnès is enough to drive you crazy. It’s like looking for a lost object, a bank card for example, of which we can determine the exact moment of disappearance: we used it to pay, it was there, and the next moment it is not there anymore. Logic dictates that we look for it where we usually store it (a wallet, a handbag), then where it could be (a back pocket of pants, a hall cabinet), and the less we find it , the more we seem to see it everywhere. Faced with absence, the brain constructs images (the credit card in an office drawer, as a bookmark in a book, forgotten on the counter of the last store) but these are fictions or mirages; they encourage further research but they do not provide a solution. Xavier Ligonnès’s apparent volatilization follows the same logic and produces the same effects on the investigation. The more weeks and months go by, the more places to look get smaller. Emmanuel Teneur ends up leading the investigators to the Société Générale agency on Place Royale in Nantes, but the safe he holds there is simply empty. A request for information on Joven Soliman is sent to the security attaché for the French Embassy in the Philippines. He is a sedevacantist priest, a fringe of traditionalist Catholicism who considers the Pope to be an imposter. The attaché transmits the hours of mass where he officiates. A trip to the Philippines is being considered, but that would mean going to the other side of the world to look for a needle in the thousands of islands of the archipelago. If this track has never been closed, nothing has supported it to date.
Since we must push logic to the end, the investigators even contact the American authorities to corroborate or contradict the story of protected witnesses told by Ligonnès in his famous letter. The DEA has never heard of the individual, and the liaison officer based at the Miami consulate assures us that his last trip to the United States was in 2003: Ligonnès arrived in Florida on July 18 and left on August 22. The study of his entourage also did not highlight anyone capable of providing false papers to the fugitive, and if he had gone through a criminal network, the police believed that an informant would undoubtedly have warned them to protect himself.
Then there are the news reports: the portrait of Ligonnès goes around France, and even if he has undoubtedly changed his physical appearance, his hairstyle, perhaps had even resorted to cosmetic surgery, someone, somewhere, might recognize him one day. After all, that’s how John List, a New Jersey insurance salesman who killed his wife and mother in 1971, was arrested. He waited for two of his children to return from school to coldly shoot them, then attended his youngest son’s football game before shooting bullets through him at home. He evaded justice for 18 years until a co-worker recognized him from a report on America’s Most Wanted.
Rarely has a criminal case given rise to as many appeals as that of Ligonnès, because his stalking not only bewitches the police, it torments an entire country. More than 1000 reports, thousands of pages of depositions, letters, verifications. You have to imagine the miles of printed paper that this represents when they are stacked on a desk. The most recent: in July, after the broadcast of a Netflix documentary on the subject in the United States, the producers of the film claimed to have received an interesting lead in Chicago; but it’s just one more drop in the bucket. Xavier Dupont de Ligonnès has been seen in Annecy, Nancy, Cholet, Corsica (several times); on the side of a road, thumbs up, by a French tourist in Las Vegas; disguised as a chimney sweep in Nîmes; in a hotel in Cantal and in a pizzeria where he paid cash in a hurry; seen again in Germany, in Italy, and heard on the telephone by the reception of the psychiatric hospital of Troyes. Since he disappeared looking like the ordinary neighbor, since he was a representative and his profession has taken him to all corners of France, there is no less reason to see him in Mulhouse than in Roche-sur-Yon, and you can simply see him everywhere.
Aire de Lançon-Provence in July 2020
Extracts: “It was the same look, except that he looked very sad, in the west, but he had the same glasses as in the photo you are showing me”; “He looked like a man like everyone else, but there was something odd in his eyes;” “Yesterday, around 1:00 pm, I was watching the news on television on the TFI channel. I saw a report where an individual killed his children and his wife before disappearing into the wild. (...) Seeing the gentleman in the photo, I made the connection with the person whom I had crossed Sunday afternoon because he had the same smile.” At the Vauvert tourist office: “I hardly look at the news, but Thursday evening I saw the photo of Mr. Ligonnès, I had the impression of having already seen him, my heart was racing.” Between Carpentras and Avignon, when he comes back from the bakery, the manager of one of Nicolas Sarkozy’s brothers crosses paths with a man with a beige bob, which he is certain is the fugitive. “I flashed,” he says. “For me, there is no doubt. This is him.” Still more letters are sent to the police to offer them help. An amateur astrologer requests a copy of the suspect’s birth certificate to establish a birth chart, a woman in child-like writing recommended a great medium who had helped her find her daughter who had become a junkie in Marseille. A prisoner asked in writing to be sent to Guinea to go hunt him down in the jungle, attaching to his letter a list of the necessary equipment, including infrared glasses and a “samurai sword.”
With each letter, with each phone call to report a suspicious individual, investigators attempt to cross-reference the information. They patiently collect the testimonies of the depositors to know where Xavier Ligonnès was seen, if he was accompanied or not, what was his size and his outfit. Inconsistent testimonies or those referring to individuals who are too young (Ligonnès would be 59 years old today) and too small (he measures a little over 1.80 meters) are discarded. For the others, investigators check the CCTV recordings, when they have not been erased and when the cameras have actually recorded on tape. If the person has been spotted pumping gasoline, in a Géant Casino, or in a Courtepaille, they trace the means of payment used and seize the duplicates of bank cards. They give priority to the restaurants, especially the Buffalo Grill, Ligonnès’ favorite establishment. And when the trail is still hot and the dishes haven’t been done yet, they collect DNA from the plates and cutlery. A few months after the start of the investigation, the investigating judge in charge of the case will even be forced to ask them to slow down, the seals starting to take on the appearance of a china cabinet in a large restaurant.
The Total service station in Lançon-Provence, July 2020
The PJ of Nantes believed on several occasions to finally have in hand the winning ticket and to be on the point of intercepting Ligonnès. This was the case in Borgo, where a photo taken from the video surveillance of a supermarket in this small Corsican town was very similar. Upon verification, it was only a local. They believed in it even more in January 2018 when they were told that an individual with a strong resemblance to Xavier Ligonnès was at the Saint-Désert Notre-Dame de Pitié monastery near Roquebrune-sur-Argens. About twenty police officers raided and searched the premises until they came across Brother Jean-Marie Joseph, who certainly looked disturbingly like Ligonnès, but who was not him. In still other cases, the police were never able to “close the track,” and it is perhaps Ligonnès who was seen.
For example, in Lançon-Provence, April 26, 2011. That day, at 2:44 am, Mahjoub B., a handler by profession, parks his vehicle at the Total service station after the Lançon-Provence toll. He fills up, then goes to the store to pay. On his way, he passes a 45- to 50-year-old man, about six feet tall, who hangs out there between the gas pumps and the store. When he returns to his vehicle, his colleague asks him if he has seen the man, whom he is convinced is the one everyone is looking for, the one who killed his family in Nantes. Mahjoub then takes a new look at the individual, notices that he is wearing glasses, light jeans, that he has brown hair a little graying and a beard of a day. At his feet, four rigid shopping bags, one red, one white, one brown and one whose color he cannot distinguish. Inside the store, employees also noticed the individual. He’s been out for almost three hours. At one point, he walks in to ask for free coffee, as part of a promotion. Behind her cash register, Jocelyne H. notes a detail: he is missing a tooth. “The second on the left, I believe,” she says when heard by investigators. This is information that has never filtered out and yet, it’s true – a little detail, Xavier Ligonnès was missing a tooth. Little by little, the space has filled in, but you can always see it when he smiles. The images from the station’s surveillance cameras are confusing: if this man is not the one we are looking for, it must be his twin brother. At 3 a.m., the cameras show him hitchhiking by a Volkswagen Combi, which investigators quickly find. The driver’s name is Christophe B. He has not heard of the case, and he must be one of the only ones in the country; but Christophe is no longer listening to the news because, he says, “the news is bad all the time.” From the hitchhiker on the night of the 25th to the 26th, he remembers that he “did not smell very good” and that he had a growing beard. They didn’t discuss much. The man simply told him that he was coming from Paris where he had gone to see “his sick old father,” and that he wanted to take the train to Aix-en-Provence. Christophe dropped him off at a motorway exit, the 30 or the 31, between 4 a.m. and 4.15 a.m. The surveillance cameras at Aix train station allow you to get back on track. He is filmed on the forecourt at 6 am, he wears light pants, a dark jacket. He buys a ticket at 1.20 euro, free destination. Then we lose track.
Despite all the checks, despite all the cameras, it will be impossible to track this man perfectly resembling Dupont de Ligonnès, who could nevertheless have confirmed that he was, at least on this date, still alive.
How can one suddenly evaporate in plain sight, and how could a man who has collected chess all his life accomplish this feat? The XDDL mystery makes it possible to scaffold all the theories. These flourish in books, in docudramas and, of course, on the Internet. We imagine Ligonnès protected by the secrecy of a monastery, flown to the United States, where he can go unnoticed thanks to his English without an accent, or even on the escape alongside a woman he would have manipulated. The police officers in charge of the case do not work on theories or psychological profiles, but according to a scientific approach: they always start from a fact, which opens a track, which they then explore until the end, close, and move on to another. This method is also a way to protect yourself from endless guesswork, or insanity, but it doesn’t always work. Several times, the track looks like a highway towards the fugitive, and the police are convinced that they will finally close this investigation. But they end up stumbling upon the worst thing ever, as was the case with the allusion to Emmanuel Teneur’s sailboat: coincidences.
Coincidence number 1. When the Ligonnès C5 was discovered in the Formula 1 car park in Roquebrune, the night watchman informed them that two reservations had been made in the name of Dupont Xavier, one on April 5 and the another on April 14. The hotel manager then specifies that the first reservation was actually made for April 6. That day, however, XDDL was in Nantes, probably digging the grave of Thomas, murdered the day before. Had he thought of accomplishing his crimes earlier or had he reserved a room for an accomplice, who might have been hiding something for him? The videos of April 5 and 6 are no longer available, but payment for the room was made with a Crédit Agricole credit card. The number gives a name, Faiçal E., and an address. Could it be an accomplice? The checks are launched immediately lead to a man who simply used “Dupont Xavier” as an assumed name - like Ligonnès - to book a night in the same hotel, the same year, the same month, within ten days.
Coincidence number 2. The liaison officer in Miami launches research around the various aliases used by XDDL, for operations of “mystery shopper” or to stay in hotels. In the FBI file, he finds a certain Xavier Laurent, one of Ligonnès’s favorite nicknames, installed in Jacksonville, north of Florida. Jacksonville is not just any city. This is where Hugues, the cousin of XDDL lived, and it is also this locality that Ligonnès and his friend Michel Rétif declared to customs in 1990 during their trip to the United States. At the very end of the personalized letter sent to Michel on April 8, Xavier Ligonnès seemed to allude to it: “I will think about you there. (Not the right to tell you where, but you went there with me...in November 90…a clue to dig. LOL).” But this Xavier Laurent is another twist of fate: the police come across a certain Evan Shaffer, a petty criminal who has chosen this alias to commit crimes.
Coincidence number 3. Ten days before the crimes, XDDL reconnects with a childhood sweetheart, Catherine K., whom he met in Versailles in the 1980s. Between March 22 and 24, they exchange text messages and try to find a date to meet the week of April 12, in Chamonix. These messages intrigue the investigators, some answers seem surprising, almost illogical, and they suspect Ligonnès of having wanted to ensure a logistical relay in his escape. A little later, a certain Patrick O. reports having seen XDDL in the queue of a Sixt car rental agency at Nice airport on April 17, 2011. By peeling the names of dozens of people having rented a car that day, the police officers miss the infarction: in capital letters, white on black, appears the surname of Catherine, who would have rented a vehicle at 1:30 am. A few hours later, their heart rate drops again: it was only a perfect disambiguation.
Each coincidence causes the same chain of reactions. First a eureka!, the certainty of having finally found the tiny detail from which to trace everything. The police then cast their nets like fishermen on the high seas, telephone or banking requisitions, requests for listings, identity checks. Then they wait. It can last from a few hours to several weeks, and inevitably it is a burning, nagging wait, tense by the fear that the track will fly away. Finally, there is the immense disappointment and the obligation to face reality again: Xavier Ligonnès is still nowhere to be found, a track has flown again, and we have to hoist the rock up the mountain again. Those who have worked or are still working on the affair strive to maintain a cold, rational, police facade. But little by little, by dint of chasing a shadow - not even a shadow, a ghost - obsession lurks. One of them, a police officer with a professional Protestant pastor, now out of the investigation, still returned until recently to consult the investigation file every week, saying he simply wanted to put the 12,000 pages of documents in order. For a year, a criminal analyst has also been mobilized. He enters all the elements of the file in a software which digests them and spits out, perhaps, new threads to draw. In the meantime, the two police officers who are still following the investigation - one at the PJ in Nantes, one at the OCRVP, in Paris - “live” the case, as their colleagues say. Among these thousands of pages there is no doubt a clue that has gone unnoticed or, better, a lead that has not yet been explored.
Track number 1. Who typed “fraternité saint-thomas becket” on Google on April 3 at 11:34 pm, before clicking on a link in the Cité-Catholique forum? Is it the same person who, the same night at 2:01 am, from an iPhone, did the search for “communion state mortal sin,” bringing it to the same forum? On April 8, the user of this phone will in any case send the search engine the request “hello Chacou”, which will lead him (her) again to the Cité-Catholique forum. Chacou was one of the pseudonyms of Xavier Ligonnès. Investigators saw crazier coincidences, but still: can it really be someone other than Xavier Ligonnès, who himself connected to Cité-Catholique almost every day of his escape? The last article published on the site about Saint-Thomas Becket, an ultra-traditionalist fraternity which practices mass in Latin, dates from January 2009. It indicates the name of its founder, Father Jean-Pierre Gac, and specifies this: “Born in the diocese of Blois where there are two communities (…), the fraternity has also extended in the diocese of Toulon - a parish is also entrusted to them in Ollioules.” Ollioules is located six kilometers from La Seyne-on-Mer, where XDDL spent its penultimate known night, and 94 kilometers from Roquebrune. Jean-Pierre Gac was questioned by the police but claimed to have never been in contact with the fugitive. Investigators have always believed in the possibility that Ligonnès took refuge in a monastery in the Var. They considered to search them one by one, before understanding that there are dozens and dozens of brotherhoods and fraternities, that they are not always castles of the Purple Rivers but sometimes simple farms, lost in the hinterland. To mount a search, it would be necessary to ensure that they do not communicate with each other, and therefore to visit them all at the same time. The examining magistrate quickly tempered the fervor of the police and declared the operation impossible.
Track number 2. Xavier Ligonnès had two secret Facebook accounts. The first is named after his favorite country singer, Waylon Jennings. One of his nieces had also found him a month before the crimes, sending him a message, “but who is behind this nickname?,” to which XDDL had immediately replied “How did you manage to arrive on the Waylon Jennings Facebook profile? Too clever! Microsoft Advantage??? Kiss.” The second account concerns a certain “George Town” residing in Nantes and is linked to one of Ligonnès’ many email addresses, [email protected]. The police send a requisition to the management of Facebook in Palo Alto to obtain the creation and connection logs of the two profiles. The answer comes in days: the first was created in February 2010, the second in December 2007, when France had barely discovered the social network. Above all, the response indicates that Ligonnès connected to the two accounts on the night of April 4 to 5, between the first assassinations and that of Thomas. The profiles have since been deleted but suggest he could have used them to communicate with a third party. Catherine K., the youthful lover that XDDL contacted a few days before the tragedy, also reported to the police that she had been approached by a certain Philippe Steiner, whom she did not know, around May 20. He sent her a strange message, suggesting that they might have had a relationship in the past. When she went to respond, the profile had already been deleted. Today there are almost 100 Facebook accounts on behalf of Waylon Jennings, some are created and deleted every day.
Track number 3. When the Ligonnès family is having their last meal on April 3, 2011, around 9 pm, a young woman walks through the glass doors of the police station on Place Waldeck-Rousseau in Nantes. Originally from a small village near Vannes, Julie is a BTS student and comes to file a complaint: the Twingo that her father lets her drive has been broken into, probably during the night. There was not much inside, but Julie reported the theft of her car radio as well as the vehicle’s logbook, which she normally stored in a small Renault gray faux leather pouch. This same pouch was found on April 22 in the dresser of the Ligonnès living room where Xavier used to store his papers, during the investigation the day after the discovery of the bodies. The police did not follow this track: they put the break-in of Julie’s car on the account of one of the Ligonnès sons, Arthur, who had already been arrested for theft of a bicycle and driving under the influence of cannabis. But why would Arthur have taken the vehicle papers with the car stereo, and why would he put them in the middle of his father’s papers? And if the theft was committed by Xavier Ligonnès a few hours before killing his family, how can this be explained? Was he able to steal other identity papers to facilitate his escape?
In this case, it is always about cars. Those imported by XDDL from the United States, the Citroën C5 from the escape, the vehicles he claimed had been stolen over the years: the first at the Brest police station in 1998, while living in Pornic, a second at the same time at the Saint-Nazaire police station, and then again, in Nantes, on May 17, 2006, a Golf convertible finally found then sold a few months later to a mechanic, a friend of Cédric M.
Cédric M. is never far away when it comes to cars. He is also a mechanic, that’s how Ligonnès met him in Vannes a few years earlier. He is one of the recipients of the departure letter, therefore a close friend. He was even the first employee of the RDC. Ligonnès regularly went to visit him in Locmalo in the heart of Morbihan, a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Nantes. With Cédric and his partner, Renaud, they went to the local creperie. They had lunch there together on March 31, 2011, four days before the crimes. In the village, it is said that Ligonnès took care of the dark accounts of the “guys,” who have quite a reputation. Could he have built up a slush fund there that no one would have found until now? Cédric and Renaud’s garage is not indicated by any sign. It is at the end of a road. In the yard, wrecks of American cars and a goat on a leash. Inside, Renaud is working on a shiny yellow Cadillac. His attitude is confusing. He is angry with the police who have never come to question him when he is, according to him, “the last to have seen [Xavier] alive. But I will not tell you when, because that the date is important,” he adds before returning to his Cadillac, wrench in hand.
To date, Renaud has still not been heard by investigators.
At the same time, reports continue to flow.
Ligonnès seen in Mulhouse, on the four lanes between Saint-Brieuc and Rennes in a Peugeot 308 and overtaking on the right, Ligonnès seen again in Tunis and Toulouse.
Ligonnès seen, but never caught.

Next Section-Part 2D
submitted by Eki75 to DupontDeLigonnes [link] [comments]

Lost in the Sauce: March 22 - 28

Welcome to Lost in the Sauce, keeping you caught up on political and legal news that often gets buried in distractions and theater… or a global health crisis.
Figuring out how to divide the COVID-19 content from the “regular” news has been difficult because the pandemic is influencing all aspects of life. Some of the stories below involve the virus, but I chose to include them when it fits into one of the pre-established categories (like congress or immigration). The coronavirus-central post will be made again this Thursday-Friday; the sign up form now has an option to choose to receive an email when the coronavirus-focused roundup is posted.
House-keeping:
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Let’s dig in!

MAIN COURSE

Congress passes stimulus

Last week started out with a Republican-crafted stimulus bill that was twice-blocked by Senate Democrats, who objected to the lax conditions of aid to corporations, too little funding for hospitals, and a $500 billion “slush fund” for big companies to be doled out by Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin with no oversight.
Conservative-Democrat Joe Manchin (WV) even criticized the GOP bill:
“It fails our first responders, nurses, private physicians and all healthcare professionals. ... It fails our workers. It fails our small businesses… Instead, it is focused on providing billions of dollars to Wall Street and misses the mark on helping the West Virginians that have lost their jobs through no fault of their own.”
Through negotiations, Democrats shifted the bill in a more-worker friendly direction. The version that passed includes the following Democrat-added provisions: expanded unemployment benefits, $100 billion for hospitals, $150 billion for state and local governments, direct payments to Americans without a phase-in (ensuring low-income workers get the full amount), a ban on Trump and his children from receiving aid, and oversight on the “slush fund” (see next section for more info). Senate Democrats also managed to remove a provision that would have excluded nonprofits that receive Medicaid funding from the small-business grants.
Echoing sentiments expressed during debate on the previous coronavirus bill (the second, for those keeping track), Republican senators derided the $600 a week increase in unemployment payments as “incentivizing” workers to quit their jobs. Sens. Ben Sasse (Neb.), Rick Scott (Fla.), Tim Scott (S.C.) and Lindsey Graham (S.C.) delayed passage of the bill in order to force a vote on an amendment removing the extra unemployment funding. "This bill pays you more not to work than if you were working," Graham said. Fortunately for American workers, the amendment failed and the improved bill passed the Senate and the House.

The giveaways in the bill

While Senate Democrats were able to add worker-friendly provisions, the bill still required bipartisan support to pass the chamber and some corporate giveaways remained in the final version.
Politico:

Trump’s signing statement

While signing the latest coronavirus relief bill, the president also issued a signing statement undercutting the congressional oversight provision creating an inspector general to track how the administration distributes the $500 billion “slush fund” money.
The newly-created inspector general is legally required to audit loans and investments made through the fund and report to Congress his/her findings, including any refusal by the executive office to cooperate. In his signing statement, Trump wrote that his understanding of constitutional powers allows him to gag the special IG:
"I do not understand, and my Administration will not treat, this provision as permitting the [inspector general] to issue reports to the Congress without the presidential supervision required" by Article II of the Constitution.
The signing statement further suggests that Trump does not have to comply with a provision requiring that agencies consult with Congress before it spends or reallocates certain funds: "These provisions are impermissible forms of congressional aggrandizement with respect to the execution of the laws," the statement reads.
While some have said that Congress fell short in this instance, one Democratic Senate aide told Politico that Congress built in multiple layers of oversight, including “a review of other inspectors general and a congressional review committee charged with overseeing Treasury and the Federal Reserve's efforts to implement the law.”
Legal experts have pointed out that a signing statement is “without legal effect.” But that ignores the fact that oversight is not equal to enforcement. The problem, in my opinion, isn’t that Congress won’t be notified of any abuses of power by Trump. The problem is that congressional Republicans and the judiciary have largely failed to hold him accountable and enforce our laws even after learning of his abuses.

Concerns about the IG

Another potential weakness in the oversight structure is the inspector general position itself. The special inspector general for pandemic recovery, known by the acronym S.I.G.P.R., is nominated by the president and confirmed by the Republican-controlled Senate. As we’ve seen from Trump’s previous nominees, particularly judicial, many unqualified individuals have been confirmed. The Democrats will not have the power to stop the president and Mitch McConnell from jamming through a loyalist to fill the SIGPR role.
Former inspector general at the Justice Department Michael Bromwich: “The signing statement threatens to undermine the authority and independence of this new IG. The Senate should extract a commitment from the nominee that Congress will be promptly notified of any Presidential/Administration interference or obstruction.”
You may recall that Trump has already proven that he’s willing to interfere with the legally-mandated work of an inspector general. When the Ukraine whistleblower filed a complaint last year, the IG of the Intelligence Community, Michael Atkinson, investigated and determined the complaint to be “urgent” and “credible.” Atkinson wrote a report and gave it to Director of National Intelligence Joseph Maguire to hand over to Congress. However, the White House and DOJ interfered and instructed Maguire not to transmit the report to the Senate and House Intelligence Committees. Chairman Adam Schiff had to subpoena Maguire to turn over the report and testify before his committee.
Further, there are already five IG vacancies in agencies that have a critical role in responding to the pandemic. The Treasury itself has not had a permanent, Senate-confirmed IG for over eight months now, and Trump hasn’t nominated a replacement. The Treasury Dept. has taken a lead role in the coronavirus response, with Secretary Mnuchin handling most of the negotiating with Congress on Trump’s behalf. The fact that the lead agency doesn’t have IG oversight should be troublesome in itself; replicating the situation with a special IG doesn’t seem to be a promising solution.
UPDATE: The nation's inspectors general have appointed Glenn Fine, the Pentagon's acting IG, to lead the committee of IGs overseeing the coronavirus relief effort.
This is one of several oversight mechanisms built into the new law. They include:
A committee of IGs (now led by Fine), a new special IG (to be nominated by Trump), a congressional review panel (to be appointed by House/Senate leaders)

Direct payments

Included in the stimulus bill is a $1200 one-time direct payment for all Americans who made less than $75,000 in 2019 (less than $150,000 if couples filed jointly). More details can be found here. I have read that the Treasury will use 2018 information for those who have not filed yet this year, but I am not 100% sure that’ll happen.
Mnuchin has said that Americans can expect to receive the money within three weeks, but many experts expect that timetable to be pushed into late April. Additionally, that only applies to Americans who included direct deposit information on their 2019 tax returns. Those who did not include their bank’s information will have to be sent a physical check in the mail… which could take anywhere from two to four months.
Other options are being discussed, including partnering the Treasury Dept. with MasterCard and Visa to deliver prepaid debit cards. Venmo and Paypal are reportedly lobbying the government to be considered as a disbursement option.
Future payments?
House Speaker Pelosi is already planning another wave of direct payments to Americans, saying that the $1,200 is not enough to mitigate the economic effects of the pandemic: “I don’t think we’ve seen the end of direct payments.” Republicans, meanwhile, are taking a ‘wait and see’ approach, using the next couple of weeks to measure the impact of the $2 trillion bill passed last week.
House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy: “What concerns me is when I listen to Nancy Pelosi talk about a fourth package now, it’s because she did not get out of things that she really wanted...I’m not sure you need a fourth package...Let’s let this work ... We have now given the resources to make and solve this problem. We don’t need to be crafting another bill right now.”
For the fourth legislative package, Democrats have said they would like to see increased food stamp benefits; increased coverage for coronavirus testing, visits to the doctor and treatment; more money for state and local governments, including Washington, D.C.; expanded family and medical leave; pension fixes; and stronger workplace protections.
Trump’s signature
Normally, a civil servant signs federal checks, like the direct payments Americans are set to receive. According to a Wall Street Journal report, Trump has told people that he wants his signature to appear on the stimulus checks.

THE SIDES

War on the poor continues

Amid the coronavirus crisis, Trump has defended his continued support of a Republican-led lawsuit to dismantle the Affordable Care Act, which would result in 20 million Americans losing health insurance if successful. The Supreme Court agreed to hear arguments in the case this fall. Contrasting with his position that the ACA is illegal, Trump is considering reopening enrollment on HealthCare.gov, allowing millions of uninsured individuals to get coverage before potentially incurring charges and fees related to COVID-19.
Joe Biden called on Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, who is leading the charge against the ACA, and President Trump to drop the lawsuit:
“At a time of national emergency, which is laying bare the existing vulnerabilities in our public health infrastructure, it is unconscionable that you are continuing to pursue a lawsuit designed to strip millions of Americans of their health insurance and protections under the Affordable Care Act (ACA), including the ban on insurers denying coverage or raising premiums due to pre-existing conditions.”
The Trump administration is also pushing forward with its plan to kick 700,000 people off federal food stamp assistance, known as SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). The USDA announced two weeks ago that the department will appeal Judge Beryl Howell’s recent decision that the USDA’s work mandate rule is “arbitrary and capricious."
Additionally: The Social Security Administration has no plans to slow down a rule change set for June that will limit disability benefits, the Department of Health and Human Services still intends to reduce automatic enrollment in health coverage, and the Department of Housing and Urban Development will continue the process to enact a rule that would make it harder for renters to sue landlords for racial discrimination.

Lawmakers’ stock transactions

The Justice Department and Securities and Exchange Commission are beginning to investigate stock transactions made ahead of the economic crisis caused by the coronavirus pandemic. CNN reports that the inquiry has already reached out to Senator Richard Burr for information. “Under insider trading laws, prosecutors would need to prove the lawmakers traded based on material non-public information they received in violation of a duty to keep it confidential,” a task that won’t be easy.
Sen. Burr is facing another consequence of his trades: Alan Jacobson, a shareholder in Wyndham Hotels and Resorts, sued Burr for allegedly using private information to instruct a mass liquidation of his assets. Among the shares he sold were an up to $150,000 stake in Wyndham, whose stock suffered a market-value cut of more than two-thirds since mid-February.

Environmental rollbacks

Using the pandemic as cover, the Trump administration has begun to more aggressively roll back regulations meant to protect the environment. These are examples of what Naomi Klein dubbed “the shock doctrine”: the phenomenon wherein polluters and their government allies push through unpopular policy changes under the smokescreen of a public emergency.
On Thursday, the EPA announced (non-paywalled) an expansive relaxation of environmental laws and fines, exempting companies from consequences for pollution. Under the new rules, there are basically no rules. Companies are asked to “act responsibly” but are not required to report when their facilities discharge pollution into the air or water. Just five days before abandoning any pollution oversight, the oil industry’s largest trade group implored the administration for assistance, stating that social distancing measures caused a steep drop in demand for gasoline.
  • Monday morning update: In an interview with Fox News this morning, Trump said he was going to call Putin after the interview to discuss the Saudi-Russia oil fight. A consequence of this "battle" has been plummeting prices in the U.S. making it difficult for domestic companies (like shale extraction) to turn a profit. It's striking that the day after Dr. Fauci told Americans we can expect 100,000 to 200,000 deaths from COVID-19 (if we keep social distancing measures in place), Trump's first action is to talk to Fox News and his second action is to intervene in an international tiff on behalf of the oil and gas industry.
Gina McCarthy, who led the E.P.A. under the Obama administration, called the rollback “an open license to pollute.” Cynthia Giles, who headed the EPA enforcement division during the Obama administration, said “it is so far beyond any reasonable response I am just stunned.”
The EPA is also moving forward with a widely-opposed rule to limit the types of scientific studies used when crafting new regulations or revising current ones. Hidden behind claims of increased transparency, the rule would require disclosure of all raw data used in scientific studies. This would disqualify many fields of research that rely on personal health information from individuals that must be kept confidential. For example, studies that show air pollution causes premature deaths or a certain pesticide is linked to birth defects would be rejected under the proposed rule change.
Officials and scientists are calling upon the EPA to extend the time for comment on the regulatory changes, arguing that the public is unable to express their opinion while dealing with the pandemic.
“These rollbacks need and deserve the input of our public health community, but right now, they are rightfully focused on responding to the coronavirus,” said Representative Frank Pallone of New Jersey, the chairman of the House Energy and Commerce Committee.
Other controversial decisions being made:
  • A former EPA official who worked on controversial policies returned as Administrator Andrew Wheeler’s chief of staff. Mandy Gunasekara helped write regulations to ease pollution controls for coal-fired power plants and vehicle emissions in her previous role as chief of the EPA’s Office of Air and Radiation. In a recent interview, Gunasekara, who played a role in the decision to exit the Paris Climate Accord, pushed back on the more dire predictions of climate change, saying, “I don't think it is catastrophic.”
  • NYT: The plastic bag industry, battered by a wave of bans nationwide, is using the coronavirus crisis to try to block laws prohibiting single-use plastic. “We simply don’t want millions of Americans bringing germ-filled reusable bags into retail establishments putting the public and workers at risk,” an industry campaign that goes by the name Bag the Ban warned on Tuesday. (Also see The Guardian)
  • Kentucky, South Dakota, and West Virginia passed laws putting new criminal penalties on protests against fossil fuel infrastructure in just the past two weeks.
  • The Hill: The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) said Friday that it will extend the amount of time that winter gasoline can be sold this year as producers have been facing lower demand due to the coronavirus. It will allow companies to sell the winter-grade gasoline through May 20, whereas companies would have previously been required to stop selling it by May 1 to protect air quality. “In responding to an international health crisis, the last thing the EPA should do is take steps that will worsen air quality and undermine the public’s health,” biofuels expert David DeGennaro said.
  • NYT: At the Interior Department, employees at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service have been under strict orders to complete the rule eliminating some protections for migratory birds within 30 days, according to two people with direct knowledge of the orders. The 45-day comment period on that rule ended on March 19.
  • WaPo: The Interior Department has received over 230 nominations for oil and gas leases covering more than 150,000 acres across southern Utah, a push that would bring drilling as close as a half-mile from some of the nation’s most famous protected sites, including Arches and Canyonlands National Parks… if all the fossil fuels buried in those sites was extracted and burned, it would translate into between 1 billion and 5.95 billion metric tons of carbon dioxide being released into the air. That upward measure is equal to half the annual carbon output of China

Court updates

Press freedom case
Southern District of New York District Judge Lorna Schofield ruled that a literary advocacy group’s lawsuit against Trump for allegedly violating the First Amendment can move forward. The group, PEN America, is pursuing claims that Trump “has used government power to retaliate against media coverage and reporters he dislikes.”
Schofield determined that PEN’s allegation that Trump made threats to chill free speech was valid, providing as an example the White House’s revocation of CNN correspondent Jim Acosta’s press press corps credentials:
”The threats are lent credence by the fact that Defendant has acted on them before, by revoking Mr. Acosta’s credentials and barring reporters from particular press conferences. The Press Secretary indeed e-mailed the entire press corps to inform them of new rules of conduct and to warn of further consequences, citing the incident involving Mr. Acosta… These facts plausibly allege that a motivation for defendant’s actions is controlling and punishing speech he dislikes.”
Twitter case
The president suffered another First Amendment defeat last week when the full 2nd Circuit Court of Appeals declined to review a previous ruling that prevents Trump from blocking users on the Twitter account he uses to communicate with the public. Judge Barrington D. Parker, a Nixon-appointee, wrote: “Excluding people from an otherwise public forum such as this by blocking those who express views critical of a public official is, we concluded, unconstitutional.”
Trump-appointees Michael Parker and Richard Sullivan authored a dissent, arguing the free speech “does not include a right to post on other people’s personal social media accounts, even if those other people happen to be public officials.” Park warned that the ruling will allow the social media pages of public officials to be “overrun with harassment, trolling, and hate speech, which officials will be powerless to filter.”
Florida’s felon voting
U.S. District Judge Robert Hinkle ripped into Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’s administration for failing to come up with a process to determine which felons are genuinely unable to pay court-ordered fees and fines, which are otherwise required to be paid before having their voting rights restored.
“If the state is not going to fix it, I will,” Hinkle warned. He had given the state five months to come up with an administrative process for felons to prove they’re unable to pay financial obligations, but Florida officials did not do so. The case is set to be heard on April 28 (notwithstanding any coronavirus-related delays).

ICE, Jails, and COVID-19

ICE
One of the most overlooked populations with an increased risk of death from coronavirus are those in detention facilities, which keep people in close quarters with little sanitation or protective measures (including for staff).
Last week, U.S. District Judge Dolly Gee ordered the federal government to “make continuous efforts” to release migrant children from detention centers across the country. Numerous advocacy groups asked for the release after reports that four children being held in New York had tested positive for the virus:
“The threat of irreparable injury to their health and safety is palpable,” the plaintiffs’ lawyers said in their petition… both of the agencies operating migrant children detention facilities must by April 6 provide an accounting of their efforts to release those in custody… “Her order will undoubtedly speed up releases,” said Peter Schey, co-counsel for the plaintiffs in the court case.
On Tuesday, 13 immigrants held at ICE facilities in California filed a lawsuit demanding to be released because their health conditions make them particularly vulnerable to dying if infected by the coronavirus. An ACLU statement says the detainees are “confined in crowded and unsanitary conditions where social distancing is not possible.” The 13 individuals are all over the age of 50 and/or suffering from serious underlying medical issues like high blood pressure.
“From all the evidence we have seen, ICE is failing to fulfill its constitutional obligation to protect the health and safety of individuals in its custody. ICE should exercise its existing discretion to release people with serious medical conditions from detention for humanitarian reasons,” said William Freeman, senior counsel at the ACLU of Northern California.
Meanwhile, ICE is under fire for continuing to shuttle detainees across the country, with one even being forced to take nine different flights bouncing from Louisiana to Texas to New Jersey less than two weeks ago. That man is Dr. Sirous Asgari, a materials science and engineering professor from Iran, who was acquitted last year on federal charges of stealing trade secrets. The government lost its case against him, yet ICE has had him in indefinite detention since November.
Asgari, 59, told the Guardian that his Ice holding facility in Alexandria, Louisiana, had no basic cleaning practices in place and continued to bring in new detainees from across the country with no strategy to minimize the threat of Covid-19...Detainees have no hand sanitizer, and the facility is not regularly cleaning bathrooms or sleeping areas…Detainees lack access to masks… Detainees struggle to stay clean, and the facility has an awful stench.
Jails
State jails are making a better effort to release detained individuals, as both New York and New Jersey ordered a thousand people in each state be let out of jail. The order applied only to low-level offenders sentenced to less than a year in jail and those held on technical probation violations. In Los Angeles County, officials released over 1,700 people from its jails.
A judge in Alabama took similar steps last week, ordering roughly 500 people jailed for minor offenses to be released to lessen crowding in facilities. Unlike in New York and New Jersey, however, local officials reacted in an uproar, led in part by the state executive committee for the Alabama Republican Party and Assistant District Attorney C.J. Robinson. Using angry Facebook messages as the barometer of the community’s feelings, Robinson worked “frantically” to block inmates from being released.
  • Reuters: As of Saturday, at least 132 inmates and 104 staff at jails across New York City had tested positive for COVID-19, the disease caused by the coronavirus… Since March 22, jails have reported 226 inmates and 131 staff with confirmed cases of COVID-19, according to a Reuters survey of cities and counties that run America’s 20 largest jails. The numbers are almost certainly an undercount given the fast spread of the virus.

Tribe opposed by Trump loses land

On Wednesday, The Federal Bureau of Indian Affairs announced the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe’s reservation would be "disestablished" and its land trust status removed. Tribal Chairman Cedric Cromwell called the move "cruel" and "unnecessary,” particularly coming in the midst of a pandemic crisis. Rep. Bill Keating (D-Mass.), who last year introduced legislation to protect the tribe's reservation as trust land in Massachusetts, said the order “is one of the most cruel and nonsensical acts I have seen since coming to Congress.”
The administration’s decision is especially suspicious as just last year Trump attacked the tribe’s plan to build a casino on its land, tweeting that allowing the construction would be “unfair” and treat Native Americans unequally. As a former casino owner, Trump has spent decades attacking Native American casinos as unfair competition. At a 1993 congressional hearing Trump said that tribal owners “don’t look like Indians to me” and claimed: “I might have more Indian blood than a lot of the so-called Indians that are trying to open up the reservations” to gambling.
More than his past history, however, Trump has current interests at play in the Mashpee Wampanoag’s planned casino: it would have competed for business with nearby Rhode Island casinos owned by Twin River Worldwide Holdings, whose president, George Papanier, was a finance executive at the Trump Plaza casino hotel in Atlantic City.
In the Mashpee case, Twin River, the operator of the two Rhode Island casinos, has hired Matthew Schlapp, chairman of the American Conservative Union and a vocal Trump supporter, to lobby for it on the land issue. Schlapp’s wife, Mercedes, is director of strategic communications at the White House.
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OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Just take a hard left at Daeseong-dong…6

Continuing.
After the third pony keg of beer was delivered, it was decided that the next few days would be spent in the conference room discussing what we thought was the best way forward.
We wanted dry-erase boards so we could start taking detailed notes, even though I was well ahead of the curve in that regard. We instead ended up with some mobile elementary-school blackboards and a pile of grainy, sooty chalk.
Leave it to Dr. Cliff to go into a discourse on the genesis of chalk and its economic importance.
Bloody carbonate geologists.
Bloody White Cliffs.
We geologists need to punctuate their conversations with pictures, so these would suffice quite well.
At 1700 hours, the official end to the workday was called; we’d meet here again tomorrow. I’m not certain by whom, but it was readily agreed upon. We were more or less on our own until 1000 the next day. I needed to spend some time in my room with my notes and update a number of dossiers, field notebooks, and other items I was using as a running chronicle.
Several folks decided to invade one of the hotel’s restaurants for dinner. Some wanted to head to the casino, a couple wanted to get a massage, and others wanted to do what tourists are normally wont to do on the second day of being a foreigner in a foreign land.
I declined invitations to dinner and other activities, as I had a long writing session in front of me. I wanted to get this all in its proper place while the memories and notes were still fresh.
30 minutes later, in my room after a 25-minute wait for the elevator; I’m updating dossiers, creating several new ones, and updating my field notebooks. Suddenly, after an hour’s work, I notice something is amiss.
“I don’t have a drink or a cigar,” I said to the four walls. “This. Will. Not. Do.”
I was used to Happy Hour in Russia. Happy hour is slightly different; there are no ice cubes or orange-peel twists in the vodka. Also, it lasts all day.
I remedy that situation by finding and clipping a nice, oily oscuro cigar and digging the bourbon out from under my boxer-briefs in my dresser drawer. I heft the bottle and feel that it’s significantly lighter than when I left it last night. I happen to look in the trash can and spy the wrapper for a box of my festively colored Sobranie cigarettes I obtained back in Dubai.
“Hmmm”, I think, “It would appear that we have some light-fingered Cho Louies or No Louises around here. I’d best guard my supplies a little more securely.”
I move all my smokeables into one of my now emptied aluminum travel cases. They lock with the stoutest of combinations and it will be readily apparent if anyone is fucking with them.
I move some of my best booze into the pretty much worthless in-room safe. With a deft application of duct tape, I seal the safe. It may not be the most secure spot on the planet, but if anyone tries anything troublesome, they’ll leave an immediately recognizable record of what they were up to. It’s just too obvious; they’d have to be crazy to go in after anything inside there.
My money, keys, and passports are in the safe deposit box down in the lobby that the hotel supplies for visiting dignitaries. Even so, they let me keep my shit in one of them anyway.
That handled, I spend another hour writing like a madman. I suddenly realize I’m tired of all this and need a diversion as well as some food and, of course, drink.
30 minutes later, I’m down in the byzantine basement tunnels of the hotel. It’s crowded with hordes of Chinse tourists, and the casino is ground zero for the incredibly loud chatter.
I look in on the bowling alleys all three of them, and they’re full. The massage parlor is hopping, although I leave my name and they promise they will call over the PA when a suitable masseuse is available. Evidently, I ‘intimidate’ some of the more demure ones.
I wander over to the bar, now there’s a surprise, and see it’s packed to the rafters as well. I decide to wait for a seat to open up on Mahogany Ridge when there’s some gargling over the PA and a pair of Chinese nationals leave the bar in great haste.
I grab one of the two newly open seats, much to the chagrin of a couple of Oriental Unidentifiables (OU) who had their eye on them as well.
“Sorry, mate”, I said, “First come, first served. It’s the capitalist way.”
One of the pair grabs a seat and the other just stands there, looking annoyed unspent bullets in my direction. Forget that I’ve literally twice their size and could be an aberration as an angry American. They just order a couple of drinks, and content themselves in giving me dirty looks and probably say nasty things in their own indecipherable language about my national origin and familial heritage.
As if I gave the tiniest of rodental shits.
I fire up a cigar, as literally everyone else in the joint was smoking something more or less tobacco. However, there was a definite barnyard aroma, a regular Dairy Air, in the room. I think some of what was being smoked there was more bovine or equine in origin than botanical in nature.
With numerous hilarious attempts at Korean, pointing at a garishly photographed drinks menu, I was finally served a cold draft house steam porter and 100 milliliters of probably ersatz ‘Russian’ vodka, vintage late last Thursday. This bartender that could at least form some of the phonemes found in American English. A few. A definite few.
Since it all cost the equivalent of US$0.50, I really didn’t care.
Apparently vodka helps flowers last longer when they're dying. But you can put vodka in anything and it'll make it better.
Being a trained observer, I rather enjoy just sitting in any old bar, smoking my cigar, drinking my Yorshch, and watching people. I try and not be intrusive and I never eavesdrop, but I like to try and think of what strange set of circumstances brought us all here together in this place at this time. It gives me writing ideas, some of which I jot down in a notebook I always carry. It also gives me a good shot of nostalgia when I look back at something I wrote some 40 or so years ago.
Yeah, old habits do die hard.
I take a drag off my cigar and set it in the ashtray in front of me on the bar as I go to correct another egregious misspelling in my notebook. I have to immediately proofread what I wrote, or I’d never recall later what the fuck I was trying to convey; especially if it’s in a noisy, smoky, or murky milieu.
Quicker than a bunny fucks, Unidentifiable Oriental #1 (UO #1) deftly reaches over, snags my cigar, and helps himself to a few mouthy puffs.
I look at him, the empty ashtray directly in front of me, him again, and then UO #2.
Since I speak no real Oriental, much less Korean, language, and my Mandarin at this point is worse than laughable; I just point to the cigar, turn out my hands and shrug my shoulders in the international “What the actual fuck, dude?” gesture.
He just smiles a gappy, toothy, and snaggle-toothed at that, grin at me and makes a point of ensuring that I see him enjoying a few more drags on my own damned cigar.
Not able to contain myself any further, I venture a “What the fuck, chuckles? That’s not your fucking cigar.”
Like gasoline being tossed on a fire-ring full of embers, they both go unconditionally incoherently insane.
Yammering, chattering, jumping up and down, and getting right into my face. They wanted me to unquestionably understand that my few words of English insulted them far more than their filching of my $20 cigar.
OK, I’m pretty well trained in Hapkido; an oddly, given the present situation, hybrid Korean martial art. I’m at least 6 or 7 inches taller and who knows how many stone/kilos/pounds/Solar masses heavier than these two clowns. I could easily go all Gojira on their hapless asses and mop significant expanses of the floorboards with them.
Instead, I look around for the bartender. I figured since I was keeping him well supplied with Korean won via tips, and he spoke some English as well as perhaps whatever the fuck these characters were chattering; maybe he could get to the bottom of what was happening.
The bartender walks over and I ask him to ask the two unidentifiable twins why they stole my cigar.
He nods in agreement and goes on in whatever the fuck dialect was being used today by the pair.
“They say they wanted it. So they took it.” They ask, “What are you going to do about it?” the bartender relates.
I deftly reach inside my field vest, as everyone concerned ducks and covers.
I extract two fresh cigars; not a .454 Casull Magnum.
I give one cigar to the bartender and one to OU#2.
“With my compliments.” I pleasantly say.
I was well apprised of the fact that in certain places like this, the local authorities often approach foreigners with, for the lack of a better term, ‘Agents Provocateur’.
Like the Westboro Baptist “Church”, they try to get a rise out of you so you’ll lose your cool and either create a scene or take a poke at the miscreant. Then they have all the pretext they require to drag you to the local hoosegow, shake you down for every penny on your person, as well as any phones, notebooks, wallets, passports, cigars, cigarettes, etc.
Basically, they goad you into a fight, then drop the thousand-pound shit-hammer when you retaliate.
It’s all so parochial. So obviously clear as vodka; this elementary charade only raised a single eyebrow.
I’m not going to even raise my voice over a couple of cheap cigars that neither of them noticed I slipped them instead of the premium ones I was smoking.
Thus defeated, I asked the bartender to ask them if they liked the cigar.
“What do you think?” I asked in cordial English, “Too tightly rolled? Not caged enough? Too green?”
UO #2 slipped and said “It smells very good…” where he realizes he’s blown his cover.
“Yeah, I like it too.”, I replied, “So much so, I buy my own. What are your badge numbers, boys? I will be reporting this incident to Inspector P'aeng Yeong-Hwan, the head of security for the IUPGS conference to which I was invited as special scientific consultant.”
Of course, they immediately dummy up and feign illiteracy.
I say loudly and very clearly, “You bastards aren’t gonna get away with this. I mean, what is going on in this country when scumsuckers like you can get away with trying to sandbag a Doctor of Geological Sciences?”
I ask the bartender to translate, but alas, it was too late. They vamoosed when I turned to talk with the bartender.
They left so fast, they didn’t notice me snapping their pictures with my ancient but trusty Nokia 3310, revised edition, during our little chat. Even with a mere 2-megapixel picture, I have enough to show the North Korean leaders of the project to get an identification and make known my displeasure of being treated like some commoner or buffoon.
They left both my cigar and the one I gave them. The bartender tucked the cigar I gave him into his pocket and stared lustily at the two remaining on the bar.
“Take’em”, I said. I sure as fuck don’t want them. “Just a clean ashtray and a refill, if you would be so kind,” I say, as pleasantly as possible, considering the situation.
Both the unsmoked and my smoldering, as well as well-traveled, cigar disappear as quickly as minks rut. A clean, new ashtray, double beer and ‘vodka’ suddenly appear.
“No charge, Dr. Rock”, the bartender grins, as he shoves my erstwhile high-mileage cigar between his teeth.
“OK, fair enough.”, I say, “Spaseebah.”, and deposit a raft of won on the bar. The pile won’t be touched until after I leave in a few hours’ time.
“Stranger in a strange land.” I muse over a couple of further beers.
The call from the massage parlor never came, or it did and I couldn’t hear it over the clamor of the casino. I went up to the hotel’s Korean restaurant; had some salty soup, a sad, sad salad, and some form of funky fish, I think, for dinner. I retired that night in a slightly foul mood.
I called Es then the next morning and caught her before she retired. With a 14 hour difference between us, I was getting up at 0700 and she was getting ready to hit the hay at 2100.
I told her of the events of the day previous, and she was glad she wasn’t tagging along. She would have never accused the Korean geologists of being behind the times and would have probably bent the guy’s nose that swiped my cigar.
Agreed, that she’d probably be unimpressed with this place. I promised her that we’d go on a holiday when I returned from all this. It would be up to her to find out ‘where,’ and I’d supply the ‘when’ when I could.
Everything else was going along smoothly, more or less, on the home front, and I didn’t want to give the local listening-in federales too much to say grace over, so we said our parting admirations and rang off.
Shower, shower sunriser of real vodka and citrus, a quick brush and comb, and spiff of cargo shorts and new ghastly Hawaiian shirt; 30 minutes later, back down in the restaurant for the inevitable breakfast buffet.
After what some would consider breakfast and others would consider a vague attempt at nourishment, we reconvened in the conference room precisely at 1012.
Nothing like precision with this group.
We spend the next two days going over, in various groups, what we think would be required to set forth proper the quest for oil and gas in North Korea on track. Everyone got in on the act, and we advocated for that. We needed everyone’s input to make this happen. Or to even map a way forward to present to country officials. Those from the West on what was needed and those from the East to tell us what was available, and the combined wetware to make what needed to be done happen with what existed.
It took no small amount of doing, but we secured a set of maps that covered the entire country. We were watched very closely by the shiny suit squad that we did not copy, photograph or otherwise take any extraneous information from these sheets of infamy. All other maps in the country were intentionally skewed, with errors deliberately added in to confuse “interlopers, spies, or other personas non grata”.
I made a massive stink and told them that if we didn’t receive the unfuckered maps, aerial photographs and satellite imagery pronto, we’re packing up and leaving that afternoon.
“We don’t have time for monks resisting the carnival. We didn’t come here to try and guess if the maps are correct or if our remedies will actually work on maps that say one thing and reality says something else entirely.”
They hemmed and hawed, but as I made the announcement to all before lunch that if the real maps didn’t appear by the time we returned from tiffin, we’re gone.
And we take tiffin purty durn early round these parts, buckaroo.
No one was surprised as I when we returned and there were folio after folio of government-uncensored maps, photos, and imagery for our program. I guess they finally reasoned it would be a relatively good idea to begin to take us seriously.
We spent one whole day just going over our field geological apparatus. They had a good idea of how to use a direction-finder compass and Jacob’s staff to measure sections. However, they were totally flummoxed by our Brunton Compasses, GPS systems, curiously referred to as ‘position finders’, notebook mapping applications, and electronic data storage and retrieval systems.
Gad. It was like being back in the 1970s before PCs were a glimmer in IBM's corporate orbs.
We spent the next week working to bring our less fortunate colleagues up to, well, not date, but at least up to the brink of the 21st century. We explained that plate tectonics, continental drift, and the precession of the continents was accepted geoscientific principles, not some arcane Capitalist or Socialist plot to undermine the quality of science in the east.
Yep. It was that mindset we had to first conquer. I think we’ve made great headway in that direction today.
The next Chautauqua session had us split up into two separate groups. We decided in a fit of Cesarean inquiry to ‘divide and conquer’. There are two distinct milieus which are able to contain economic deposits of hydrocarbons: onshore and offshore.
Instead of attacking both head-on, we’d focus initially on the offshore domain. Once we had a good handle on what was going on under the East Korean Sea, the Huangai (Yellow) Sea and surreptitiously, the South Sea; we’d collaborate our findings and work to tie them in and extend them onshore.
The singular Phyongnam Basin is the one large depositional, sedimentological, and structural basin in North Korea. It is filled by the Joeson and Pyeongan Supergroups of sediments, which are Cambro-Ordovician and Permocarboniferous, respectively. These are good hunting grounds for oil and gas. Could be elephant–hunting country.
But before we could undertake that, we had to get ‘back to basics’. That is, we had to understand and delineate the ‘frame’ of the Korean Peninsula. In other words, we needed to figure out how and when the peninsula came into existence.
South Korea’s geology is much more complex, fortunately than that found in the North. There were nasty side comments that were due to the relative development not of the geology, but of the geologists who studied each country’s geology.
It was, perhaps, a mean way of characterizing the situation. But, unfortunately, it was also probably fairly accurate.
The Korean Peninsula is characterized by huge massifs, which are sections of a crust that are demarcated by faults or flexures. In the movement of the crust, a massif tends to retain its internal structure while being displaced as a whole. The term also refers to a group of mountains formed by such a structure. It’s basically one huge, semi-resilient rock.
The basement rocks of the Korean Peninsula consist of high-grade gneiss and schist, Paleoproterozoic Precambrian massifs, which formed in the early stage of Earth’s history. These rocks are unconformably overlain by metasedimentary rocks; schist, quartzite, marble, calcsilicate, and amphibolite, of the Middle to Late Proterozoic. The Korean Peninsula is floored by a collation of about five of these huge Precambrian massifs that acted like ‘microplates’ during the aggregation of the peninsula. These massifs consist of thick dolostone, metavolcanics, and schist, which were intruded by Paleoproterozoic granites.
These Paleoproterozoic metasedimentary and granitic rocks underwent repeated intracrustal differentiation, followed by the events of cratonization, i.e., regional metamorphism and igneous activity, at 1.9-1.8 Ga. Sediments deposited in the peripheral basins during the Mesoproterozoic and Neoproterozoic lead to stabilization as the basement of the peninsula.
These early depositional basins formed the locus of deposition that continued on from the Proterozoic through the Phanerozoic. There are at least three, perhaps four, depositional basins in the south which are delimited by structural zones, such as the South Korean Tectonic Line (SKTL), a huge zone of continental transform faults and forms the basis of boundary demarcation between the Okcheon and Taebaeksan basins.
The boundary between the Seochangri Formation of the Okcheon Basin and the Joseon Supergroup of the Taebaeksan Basin in the Bonghwajae area is a thrust (or reverse‐slip shear zone). This thrust is presumably a relay structure (i.e. a restraining bend) between two segments of a continental transform fault (the South Korean Tectonic Line or SKTL), along which the Okcheon Basin of the South China Craton was juxtaposed against the Taebaeksan Basin of the North China Craton during the Permian–Triassic suturing of the two cratons.
In the late Proterozoic, sedimentation was initiated in basins of the Korean Peninsula, accompanied by deposition of siliciclastic and volcaniclastic sediments as well as carbonates. The massifs were submerged in the Early Paleozoic during a greenhouse period, forming a shallow marine platform and associated environments.
The Cambrian-Ordovician succession unconformably overlies Precambrian granite gneiss. It consists of mixed carbonate-siliciclastic rocks of sandstone, shale, and shallow-marine carbonates. Sedimentation was initiated in the Early Cambrian with a global rise in sea level on the stable craton of the Sino-Korean Block.
There was a major break in sedimentation during the Silurian and Devonian periods in the entire platform. During the Carboniferous to early Triassic, sedimentation was resumed in coastal plain and swamp environments with progradation of deltas.
Major tectonic events were initiated in the Triassic when the South China Block collided with the Sino-Korean Block. The eastern part of the Sino-Korean Block rotated clockwise and moved southward relative to the South China Block along the SKTL.
In the Middle-Late Jurassic, orthogonal subduction of the paleo-Pacific plate under the Asian continent caused compression and thrust deformation. A number of piggyback basins formed along the thrust faults in the east of the SKTL. At the same time, the entire peninsula was prevailed by granite batholiths, especially along the northeast-southwest-trending tectonic belt.
In the Cretaceous Period, the paleo-Pacific Plate subducted northward under the Asian continent, forming numerous extensional (left-lateral strike-slip) basins in the southern part of the peninsula and the Yellow Sea. A large back-arc basin was initiated in the southeastern part.
In the Paleogene, both the volcanic arc and the back-arc basin ceased to develop, as volcanic activities shifted eastward, accompanied by a rollback of the subduction of the Pacific plate. In the Miocene, pull-apart (right-lateral) basins formed in the eastern continental margin.
The Korea Plateau experienced continental rifting accompanied by extensive volcanism during the extensional opening of the southern offshore basin. It subsided more than 1000 m below sea level.
So, as South Korea was mix- mastered by a half-a-billion years’ worth of structural tectonism, which created several depositional basins quite capable of generating and storing economic quantities of oil and gas, the scene to the north was much more quiescent.
The North was composed, from south to north, of the relict Imjingang Belt, which was an old back-arc basin between the Gyeonggi Massif to the south and the Nagrim Massif to the north. It is a paleo-subduction zone, full of volcanics, volcaniclastics and other non-hydrocarbon bearing rocks. It was mashed and metamorphosed, and basically forms a convenient boundary between the complex geology of the South and the more relaxed geology of the North.
Heading north, we come across the Pyeongnam Basin, the only North Korean basin thus far defined that could contain hydrocarbons. Further north is the huge Nangrim Massif. It’s a huge block of igneous and metamorphic rocks that weather very nicely and form some spectacular scenery, but from an oil and gas economic outlook are worthless.
Offshore North Korea, there are two possible petroliferous basins. The offshore West Korea Bay Basin and East Sea Basin, along with five onshore basins could be offering exploration potential. At least ten exploration wells have been drilled in the West Sea, with some showing “good oil shows” along with the identification of a number of potential reservoirs.
The West Sea potentially has oil and has reportedly flowed oil at reasonable rates from at least two exploration wells when they were drilled and tested in the 1980s. Meanwhile, the East Sea has seen Russian exploration efforts previously including the drilling of two wells, both of which reportedly encountered encouraging shows of oil and gas.
Onshore, there has been little exploration to date, apart from efforts by the Korean Oil Exploration Corporation and also recently by Mongolia’s HBOil JSC (HBO). Among five main onshore sedimentary sub-basins, the largest is south of the capital; while unconfirmed reports point to a 1-trillion-cubic-foot (tcf) discovery in 2002.
Historically DPRK was thought to consist of five under-explored geological basins, the
• Pyongyang,
• Zaeryong,
• Anju-Onchon,
• Gilju-Myongchon and
• Sinuiju, Basins.
These basins are all located more or less along the coast, rather than inland. This also points to a certain degree of geological aptitude; as it’s much easier to explore along the more populated coast than it is to venture inland. There may be more hiding in the interior of the country, it’s just that no one’s looked as of yet. That’s difficult. Exploring along the coast is much easier.
With 3 basins supposedly proven to have working petroleum systems; 22 wells have been drilled and the majority are said to have encountered hydrocarbons with some wells testing production at 75 barrels of oil per day of light sweet crude oil. This has yet to be documented or confirmed by the Korea Oil Exploration Corp (KOEC), North Korea’s state-run oil company.
Yeah, our work was definitely cut out for us.
It was decided that a series of excursions offshore in one of the few remaining seaworthy, which was a real judgment call, KOEC seismic boats would be appropriate. The one we received use of was an old, decommissioned Chamsuri-class patrol boat, one Chamsuri-215(참수리-215), PKMR-215 in particular.
It had been basically stripped to the gunwales and completely retrofitted as a seismic acquisition and recording vessel. It had been renamed: “조선 민주주의 인민 공화국 영광” or “Glory of Democratic People's Republic of Korea Science”.
In reality, it was an aging rust-bucket piece of shit that might have possibly seen better days but wasn’t letting on. All the military nonsense, except the powder magazine, had been removed and a new superstructure consisting of slap-dash hunks of poorly-welded low-carbon, cold-rolled steel were erected to form a pilothouse in the area where the bridge once existed. They also built, extra haphazardly, a shooter’s room, galley, cold and wet storage areas, recording room, and storage of tapes and the extra bits and pieces needed for a none-too-extended stay on the sea. It was, being charitable, almost utilitarian.
They could not make their own water, so trip times were limited to about three days in length. Besides, they didn’t really have a hot galley, so it was cold, canned Chinese chow for the next 72 hours. They had a couple of fairly sturdy yardarms with heavy winches to handle the towed seismic arrays of geophones, which were of ancient heritage and showed it. These were probably appropriated back in the 80s or perhaps earlier when they first thought about opening their waters for seismic exploration.
They ‘borrowed’ most of the sensing and recording equipment back then from oilfield service companies and simply forgot to return it once finished. Since they burned that bridge so glowingly, they couldn’t get parts nor service when things failed. Being delicate seismic sensing and recording equipment, fail they did.
So, we had to use what was leftover, or what DPRK industries could cobble together, or what could be salvaged from salt-water drenched recording equipment that hadn’t been too heavily cared for over the span of the last 50 years.
We weren’t terribly optimistic.
So, we load the good ship ‘Rorrypop’, as Viv christened the thing, and head out to the wilds of the Yellow Sea. It was an abbreviated foreign crew, as there was really nothing other than upchuck and curse me soundly for insisting the non-geophysical scientists came along.
Aboard were the two geophysicists, naturally; Volna and Activ. I was there stick-handling the logistics and hoping to help out with the geophysical signal source explosives.
Morse and Cliff, the two other geologists accompanied us on the trip, and Dax decided to go with me as he figured I’d have access to the best booze no matter where we went.
The remainder of the team, the geochemists, Erlan and Ivan, the geomechanic, Iskren, the PT, Joon, and the two REs, Viv and Grako, remained behind onshore at the hotel. They set forth cataloging what data was available; from what sources, it’s vintage, veracity, and usefulness.
Augean tasks, both. Not as fecaliferous as Hercules’ jobs, but still, they held their own rations of shit for each sub-team.
Heading seaward, the Yellow Sea extends by about 960 km (600 mi) from north to south and about 700 km (430 mi) from east to west; it has an area of approximately 380,000 km2 (150,000 mi2) and a volume of about 17,000 km3 (4,100 mi3).[4] Its depth is only 44 m (144 ft) on average, with a maximum of 152 m (499 ft). The sea is a flooded section of the continental shelf that formed during the Late Pleistocene (some 10,000 years ago) as sea levels rose 120 m (390 ft) to their current levels. The depth gradually increases from north to south. The sea bottom and shores are dominated by sand and silt brought by the rivers through the Bohai Sea and the Yalu River. These deposits, together with sand storms are responsible for the yellowish color of the water referenced in the sea's name.
Being shallow, the Yellow Sea is more perturbed by the frequent seasonal storms of the region. The area has cold, dry winters with strong northerly monsoons blowing from late November to April. I was told that the summers are wet and warm with frequent typhoons between June and October; but now all we had to contend with were swelling seas, spraying saltwater, waggling waves, and a shivering, shimmying ship.
All the navigation, communications and other shiply duties were being handled by both members of the DPRK Coast Guard Auxiliary, mostly older guys who were of great and high humorous jest; and an actual pleasure to be around. They were like their scientific cadre on this cruise, basically a political ‘give a shit’ attitude, and a desire to get the job done, smoke the American’s cigars and drink as much as we could get away with.
The scientific portion of the cruise was being undertaken by students of the various universities and members of the North Korean national oil company. The demeanors of these characters ranged from extremely earnest and stringently North Korean politically correct in the students and academicians, to a more relaxed ‘yeah, let’s just get the fucking job done so we can have a lot of drinks’ sort of view of the older members of the DPRK scientific team.
It was a fun admixture of cultures, ages, professions, and behaviors.
Oh, forgive me for forgetting to mention our ‘guides’, or handlers. They were also chosen, nay, ordered to come along. Landlubbers all, they were less than thrilled with the assignment and inevitable seasickness; which seemed endemic to those of Oriental extraction on the cruise. However, our guides did enjoy drinking. As we learned that alcohol is a central part of Korean culture, and they encouraged us to socialize with them when the time was appropriate.
Or, not appropriate, as I was being denounced by one of the geophysical students after only a few hours into our very first day. Hell, we weren’t even in the Yellow Sea proper. We started here at Pyongyang, down the Taedong River, over the Giva Dam, through Pushover, across Shmoeland, to the stronghold of Shmoe; into the very belly of the frothing Yellow Sea.
Most everyone, other than the foreign elements on board, were either making the trip in the bowels of the ship; nursing and cursing seasickness; or by rail, doing exactly the same thing.
“Chum it over the side, ya’ blinkered mucker!”, I admonished one bottle-greenish national. “This ain’t the Captain‘s mess, Chuckles. You have to clean up your own spew!”
I was reveling in getting back out on the water and regaining my sea legs. I never get seasick.
Never.
Ever.
Be it a seismic vessel in the heaving Arctic Ocean, a pirogue in the swamps of Louisiana, my cousin’s fishin’ johnboat back in northern Baja Canada, a US nuclear submarine under the permanent pack ice of the North Pole, or VLCC in the Straits of Somaliland; I just don’t get seasick.
Airsick? Nah. Carsick? Nope. Ready to puke in a Hind-20 over the Caspian Sea during a strong local thunderstorm? Close, but no cigar.
So, I’m doing a Titanic scene recreation. Up in the very bow of the craft, standing in stark defiance of the gusting winds and blowing salt spray, smoking a huge cigar, and totting out of one of my emergency flasks while trying to hang on to my Stetson. I am also endeavoring to remain upright, field vest and really, really ghastly Hawaiian shirt billowing in the breeze.
I’m not certain if it was the cigar smoke, the wind-whipped beard, and hair, the give a fuck attitude, or the flapping of the Hawaiian shirt to which the little local geophysicist objected. But he was pissed. Olive-green with seasickness, rubber-kneed but still standing a good social-distance away, reading me the riot act in high-pitched Korean.
As I usually do in such delicate situations, I just smile and wave. Show them I’m mostly harmless and they either cool down or get pissed off even more and stomp off in disgust.
Either one was a winning situation for me in my book.
So, I return to doing my ship’s figurehead imitation and revel in the wind, spray, and feeling of really being booming. Sure, some might complain of the cold, but not me, the sting of the salt-spray or the windburn; but I eschew what most people enjoy as ‘normal weather’. I live for pushing the boundaries. I love rough weather and situations that thrust the edge of the envelope further past normalcy.
Besides, we were still in sight of land. Hell, if everything went south at this very minute, one could practically walk back to shore. I can hardly wait to see what these wigglers will do if a night storm comes up when were 100 or more kilometers from land.
The boat’s thrumming heavily from both the thrust of the Soviet-era diesel engines and the craft’s bludgeoning its way through the waves. Most hull designs are so the ship will ‘cut’ through the surface waters. This craft’s flattened trihedral hull design didn’t so much ‘cut’, as ‘slam’ it’s way through. The boat would then crash up one side and smash down the other of each large wave we encountered. The boat would shudder whole, adding a new note of resonance along with the monotonous one-note song of the aged Russian diesels.
The spray would fly, the boat would convulse, time would seem to freeze until we bashed into the next wave. The captain of the vessel took his orders very seriously. “Get to coordinates XXX and YYY by the most expedient means possible.” If that meant charging, full-throttle into the teeth of the oncoming monsoon-force wind while we were traversing the worst kelp jungle I’ve seen this side of the Sargasso Sea; well, piss on it, full steam ahead.
“Fuck it”, I thought, “Not my pony, not my show. Let’s see how this plays out.” While I light a new cigar and search for Emergency Flask #2.
After I’d been upbraided by the geophysical student for transgressions still unknown, Cliff and Dax wander out to ask me what the hell I was up to.
“Have you gone completely barmy?”, Cliff asked. “It’s a full gale out here and you’re standing in the teeth of it like it was a warm, sunny Sunday in Piccadilly.”
“Nope, not at all”, I replied, “Just reveling in the delights of an angry atmosphere.”
“He’s nuts, I told you”, Dax smirked, “He’d go anywhere and do anything to have a cigar.”
“Not just a cigar, me old mucker”, I smiled and waved my second emergency flack under his nose.
“Figures”, they both respond in unison.
Dax departs and returns mere seconds later with paper Dixie-style cups he liberated from the ship’s one head. We are going to do our very best to extend the lifetime of the onboard water supply for our scientific and military friends. I pour them each a cup full.
“Whoa, Doc”, that’s gotta be 100 milliliters!” Cliff objects.
“As the Siberian saying goes: One hundred versts, roughly a hundred miles, is no distance. A hundred rubles isn't worthwhile money. And a hundred grams of vodka just makes you thirsty. Prosit!” I say in reply.
We retire to the overhang on the fantail of the boat. It’s a sunshade and keeps the worst of the weather out for the lightweights on the cruise. I decided we’d withdraw there to keep these Dominionites out of the worst of the wind and sea spray.
“Rock”, Cliff notes, “You are a complete throwback. You do not belong here in the 21st century. You need to find a way back to the Calabrian and ride herd on the continental Neanderthals. Give them the gift of distilling and tobacco agriculture, and you’d reframe the world.”
Dax agrees, but notes if I do find a way back, he and Cliff would be selected against.
“Good point”, Cliff agrees. “Rock, stay here. We need your expertise now more than ever. Plus your ready supply of strong drink and cigars.”
“Glad to know that I’m truly appreciated around these parts.” I chuckled slightly acridly.
“Ah, Rock. Buck up. You know we’re only takin’ a piss.” Cliff says.
“Aim it starboard. Don’t want it blowin’ all over the seismic gear”, I reply, laughingly.
The trip continued, and I found a not-bolted-to-the-deck chair and moved it outside under the shade back by the boat’s fantail. I refreshed my emergency flasks and replenished my cigar supply. I’m not about to sit inside and listen to the wails and gnashing of teeth of the landlubber crowd, the patter and timor of the geophysical throng as they titter and argue about array design, nor the military hut-hutting all over the fucking boat.
A couple of times, one or more of our ‘handlers’ would venture out as I had the only supply of readily available smokeables and drinkables. Oh, we had food, lots of beer, soju, some knock-off vodka, and some of that faux homebrew bourbon for later once the workday was declared over; but for now, I was the one and only dispensary.
We’d have some random chats while they screwed up their courage to ask me for a smoke or a tot of drink. I brought several bundles of really cheap-ass cigars for just such occasions; besides, I figured one of my Camacho triple-maduros would have them chumming for the remainder of the trip. I had also many, many cartons of Sobranie pastel-colored cigarettes, and many more cartons of knock-off Marlboros I bought at the duty-free when we hit town.
It was chucklingly funny to see these harsh, military, no-nonsense characters walking their duty beats smoking pastel green, lavender, and mauve cigarettes.
We got bogged down a couple of times when one or more of the ship’s twin screws fouled with kelp as we tried to put some distance between us and the shore. Each time, one really dejected low-ranking young Coast Guard character would go over the side with a rope around his waist and a knife in his hand to free the props. I was going to object as this was moronically dangerous; but, again, not my pony, not my show. This called for full proper tethering and SCUBA gear.
They had neither aboard.
Welcome to the wonders of a centrally planned economy.
To be continued.
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