can’t get over when famous gangster lucky luciano was like “hey lansky seems like quite a hassle getting all those nazis offa your terf you want us to help ya out” and meyer “Left Russia Because of Pogroms and Became A Gangster In The US” lansky was like “no. no getting to beat the shit out of nazis is reward enough for us. sorry lucky this one’s personal don’t worry about it”
here’s a quote from a New York Times article abt it
also bonus quote from that article
“quick question about the punching, judge perlman: how about murder instead”
everybody says that “the government” enlisted these mobsters to beat up nazis, but like. no. no that didn’t happen? judge nathan perlman illegally called up a man who could have him shot dead at a minute to say “hey. i’ve scoured the fucking law books tryna find a way to get these fucking nazis out of here, but my legal means have unfortunately run out. so-” and meyer fucking lansky was like “ah say no more boss lemme call a buncha friends and we’ll get this sorted out real quick don’t even bother paying me.“
can you imagine that phone call. like genuinely. how am i supposed to continue living my normal life knowing this happened. people who loooove talking about punching nazis, taKE FUCKING NOTES
this is my favorite Meyer Lansky story.
my second favorite Meyer Lansky story is about the time, many years later, that he was at a meeting of mafia heads and one of them started bragging about how his son was following him into the family business.
Meyer Lansky said “That’s nice. My son works for NASA.”
jk rowling’s new reputation will never not be funny to me. when you see her name now you dont think “oh yeah thats the chick who wrote harry potter” you think “oh lord, this TERF bitch again” like bro how do you fuck up so bad that your fuck ups overshadow writing the third most read piece of literature in existence
I hate it when people defend fic by insisting that it is, or can be, better than published fiction. Fic can be very good, but it is a whole different genre, and really good fic never tries to be like published, or even publishable fiction.
Case in point, I recently read a story that absolutely floored me with the strength of its characterisation, dialogue, and sheer vision. It was a deliberate riff on the concept of Omelas, fitting a new narrative into the imagery of darkness and light, of solitary suffering under a joyful city. It engaged with the problem of evil and the difficulty of not only building a just society, but also ensuring it actually remained just in the face of serious pressure over time. It made me feel things I haven’t felt since I was eighteen and heavily overidentified with Alyosha Karamazov.
But I can’t share this brilliant gem of a story with anyone I know irl because it also has three scenes of Optimus Prime getting vigorously dicked in the dorsal access port, whatever that is.
