3 Predictions plus a four-cast: European Vandalism, Treasury Piratism, Cersei’s Death, and Eastern Goldbacked Elasticity

Ahead of the equinox I wanted to float some far fetched futurecasts, laden with bombast. The first two are predictions for western/eastern civilization, while the last one is a prediction for Westeros/Essos of Game of Thrones (spoilers if you haven’t seen through season 5). These three can be thought of as an appendage to my 2016 predictions. [edit: on 2016-05-02, I am adding a fourth prediction regarding the reintroduction of the gold standard by Eastern nations]

1) There is a high probability that next winter European temperatures will be far below average (they are due in the context of this new deregulated climatic cycle, if not next winter than the following), and whatever the normal human systems existing to remedy such cold contingencies, efforts are sure to fall grievously short of meeting the needs of the increased population. Population is, of course, the number one factor leading European events towards a 2017 winter culmination that will be reminiscent of 406AD in the Roman Empire. The cultural conflicts already existing will be greatly exacerbated when the long night(s) come, and don’t expect either side to simply acquiesce to the needs of the others. History shows that people do not typically just lay down and die (though they do lay down and stop living, evidenced by contemporary consumerist trends). Expect all the foresight that was mocked as ad absurdum speculation to be made viscerally real, a new and twisted self-directed jingoism becoming governmental policy. If the Arab populations moving in (or being intentionally herded) to Europe are as vulgar and criminally apt as they are purported to be—a great prison unloading—there is no telling what the series of reaction-reaction-reaction-reaction will spiral in to. Certainly every ideologue—and Europe has been home to plenty—will try to spin the situation to their own benefit, and to “the other’s” detriment; a demagogue such as Trump would really be in his element when all this shit goes down (but clogs the swelling toilet on its way). My own spin to it has to be ironic: karma is the boomerang you eventually forgot you threw. Imperialism eventually cycles back.

2) While the Donald is on the mind, the next prediction may involve Trump as a spokesperson, but it could be any collection of oligarchs and minions that generally adhere to the Oceania-neocon agenda. There is no specific time frame on this—the timing will depend entirely on the elite/governmental perception of a critical point in which to unveil yet another stopgap measure to constipate a full blown financial collapse. I feel the need to build the context before unveiling the details of this prediction:

The recent trend of investors hunkering in to treasury bonds, specifically United States treasuries, is going to be fully exploited by the always-Machiavellian banker/governmental elites that have access to the financial policy levers. All this foreign wealth still flowing (and even accelerating during market cascades) in to the endemically-corrupt-treaty-breaking nation of the United States really shows a great deal of denial and/or ignorance-driven trust of people/countries towards the bereft banker cartel. It’s true that many countries have not been so reckless as to buy in to American debt, but they will still feel the pinch nonetheless. The economic will become political in its highest expressions, for this is 2016 and the eight year cycle of the changing of the guard in America is to have widespread entwinings.

Before election, after election, after inauguration… at some point, a political person and/or party, being heralded as the ultimate patriots, will unleash a formal policy that disallows the investors of the world from redeeming their treasuries. To my knowledge such an act is unprecedented, and it could only realistically be done by a government that presides over the global reserve currency and holds the “kingbreaker” cards in its military as well. Expect presages and all sorts of domestic propaganda—before, during and after—to corroborate with this move, even a lame educational outreach to reassure the financially literate people of the legitimacy of the government to act in such a way to secure national interests. Of the propaganda efforts, the leader will address the American people with something akin to this:

“The American nation is exceptional because of our greatness. It is because of that greatness that we have long been a target by others: I’m not just referring to our known enemies, but by all who harbor jealousy and have a penchant towards being leeches. The rest of the world has been riding our good times up, but now they are bailing out on us, trying to take us for all we are worth. In stockmarket terms, they are all trying to short us. We are not a nation that allows ourselves to be sold down the river. They have confused our kindness with weakness. It is they who are acting weak, and we cannot allow such weak peoples to one second use our juggernaut economy for their own purposes, and the next try and throw it away. We cannot allow that… and it is not just for our country’s own good, but for theirs. Though the world may not realize it, as they attempt to rob us, they need us a lot more than we need them. We allow their goods to be sold in our country. Where would the world be without American ingenuity? We gift the world our cutting edge technologies at a fair price, enabling many countries to effectively emerge from poverty. We build highways both literal and figurative, networks that allow trade to effortlessly move throughout the globalized world. Until this act, we have always allowed and encouraged the free flow of money between individuals and nations. But for myself, as your president, I will not let our ship be threatened by the boats trying to sink us. This is my highest charge, and on my watch I will not allow the rapid redeeming of treasury bonds by countries trying to cash in on our first class economy. It is wrong, and it has to be stopped.”

Such is a taste of what tactics will be used to pirate the money that was invested in the dollar. Why wouldn’t “they” do it? The oligarchs know they can get away with it because of their kingbreaker position (that threatens China and Russia from gaining full hegemony). As for the morality of such a potential action, or if it is in any way reprehensible, I’d like to export a modified Bushism to the world: “fooled by us twice [or a hundred times], shame on you!”

A political cartoon condemning the action would picture the president and have the caption:

“Ha, ask for a debt jubilee? Let’s just give ourselves one!”

3) I glimpsed a possible pattern in the “GoT Season 6 Official Poster” that, if true, reveals Cersei to be dead by the time the season is over. Please consult the poster (below) to better understand the following written pattern. The pattern for the six characters represented in the Hall of Faces characters starts from the upper left, then moves “south–south-eastward” by a 1:2:2:1 rhythm and symmetry. In the upper left is Jon Snow, Game of Thrones Season 6 Predictionwho by being brought back from the dead could be considered “twice-alive”; the two after that—Daenerys and Sansa—are both once alive, having been saved, narrowly escaping death; the two after that—Oberyn and Robb—are once dead, killed by complete surprise. The last face—Cersei’s—has to be twice dead, to complete the pattern. How can someone be twice dead? Suicide—the killing of that which was already dead. Her storyline heretofore would support her attempting a suicide. She has already been publicly shamed, she has lost her son and will find out she’s lost her daughter, and not to mention she was ready to kill her third child before he could be captured (Battle of the Blackwater). In the Hall of Faces poster, she is also looking down which I think goes to signify many things, including her downfall and suicide.

[May 2, 2016 edit-in:]

4) Jim Willie and Andrew Gause are two economically-minded thinkers (not sycophantic bullshitters) who expect to see precious metals skyrocket in value as people and nations around the world reject insolvent and corruptible fiat currencies along with their corresponding bonds and treasuries. The former (Willie) predicts a China-centered reintroduction of the gold standard, while the latter (Gause) thinks such a move on the part of China would be impractical because of the inelasticity that would hamper their global economic conquest. While their two thoughts on the matter may seem mutually exclusive, I predict China to maneuver a middle ground that will only be visible to one with a diachronic eye.

The ever patient eastern dragon—not to be confused with a Targaryen—is very well organized and able to act with great subtlety, orders of magnitude more minute than the blundering western nations. They will reintroduce a precious metals backed currency over time, either as a singular nation or conglomerated with other tight trade-partners. With gold set to rise many fold, they will choose a ripe time when gold’s new legitimacy is unquestioned and that they have also accumulated enough during the years of relative suppression. The new Shanghai Gold Exchange and fix, itself a viable entity to restore realistic physical gold trading, is also serving as a stratagem to display China’s trustworthyness to global investors seeking a safe harbor: it is a lead up to their offering a currency that will have everyone flocking to their gates. So far things look to be very much in align with Willie’s predictions…

When China does hit times of inelasticity, as Gause thinks they would were they to back their currency with gold, China will employ their option: release yet more gold to back their currency needs. Their initial backing will be large and substantial, but it will be in part a feign and a trial balloon. The key is that China will not back their currency with all their gold all at once; they will keep a large quantity (in the tens of thousands of tons) waiting in reserve. They will do it in stages as necessary, winning enthusiasm each step of the way, diluting/concentrating as needed, and thwarting all the major problems that western economists delineate a goldbacked currency would bring. Their employment of a creeping normalization with their currency has other precedents that run parallel, such as their taking on the role of being the largest industrial manufacturer in the world. There should be know doubt that these people know what they are doing.

By the time their capturing of the global reserve currency status (utilizing the gold standard method) is a few years in, not just media punditry but entire cultural systems will be normalized to Chinese economic prowess, and western economic schools of thought will largely be bankrupted, nobody left who can read English will be able to afford to spend their time reading the antiquated and off-based notions of a bygone peculiar age… they will be too busy working for their Chinese bosses! I am no economist, but I think possessing a plurality of the world’s gold will give China and its allies the flexibility to move their pieces forward on the game board of economic conquest.

[minor grammar edit (see comments below) made on 2016-05-12]

Rule of Thumb in King Joffrey’s Court: A Game of Thrones Extension

In King Joffrey's Court

Cersei entered the hall with her usual escorts, and a groan escaped from her son’s mouth, as he sat atop his sword seat.

“Mother, must you interrupt justice?” he said with mock sternness. She said nothing and continued to approach him, indifferently stepping around a fresh puddle of blood and other indistinguishable bits. She was wielding a polite smile, in full view of the king now, and her guards fell back. She began to ascend the stairs while utilizing both hands to pinch her skirt so that it would not drag underneath her.

“What is it mother?” the king moaned. “I only have two more cases.”

“Cases? Are you a detective now too?” she smiled, showing genuine interest in her son’s growth as a king.

“Well mother, I have a hunch for figuring out the inner workings of my subjects, so yes I am quite an exceptional detective as I don’t need many clues, if any, not to mention that I can do all this while also judging.” He looked at his hand stretched low, pleased with himself. “But my talents are too many to list, and I would get quite winded telling you of all of them. Besides, it’s frustrating—my talents are too often wasted in the service of justice for the realm, and not often enough used for my own benefit. To that end, I have just two more cases, mother, and then I will go take care of my own interests, not have you dawdles beside me.

“Well it’s of those two cases, actually the next one really, your Grace, that I have come to discuss with you” she said courteously, in a lowered tone.

He adjusted himself to a lower tone: “I can’t be seen taking advice from you… make it fast please before the people start to notice.”

“I understand,” she said. “Your next accused is Walton Wissel of House Melcolm, and I think we’d be better to not upset any potential allies from the Vale.”

Joffrey was just going to speak when a side door clanged open and four guards, two in front and two behind, entered with a haggardly looking man. The man looked as if he weren’t aware that his surroundings had changed from the days of a solitary prison cell. Joffrey smiled.

“Ah, Ser Wissel, so nice of you to join us,” Joffrey got up from his seat. “Guards, you can leave his side, we are all friends here.” The guards stepped away and found wall spaces that were empty.

There was a nervous tension in the room that only Joffrey and Ser Wissel didn’t notice. Someone cleared their throat and Cersei looked up and swallowed, chasing away some inner thought.

Joffrey cleared his throat, “Ser Wissel, I have often been appreciative of your creative mind. As it is you are the only knight I have ever heard tale told of who has never owned armor. Your words are a real talent to you, something I can really relate to as an artist of the letter myself. You are a real muse to me, really,” he said with questionable sincerity. He let that last phrase linger in the silence.

“On previous occasions, when others had advised me to treat you with the full weight of the law,” he shot a stare at his mother, who was now standing very awkwardly. He continued, “When others wanted you brought to justice, I looked the other way, and took your perverted thoughts as necessities to generate your artistic proclivities that I find so akin to my own.”

Joffrey’s smile faded, and his demeanor became stern and thoughtful. He began pacing back and forth across the small platform, his hand pinching his chin as in deep reflection. Ser Wissel looked up at him, anguish now in his face.

“Sadly, Ser Wissel, this time your thoughts have led you astray, and I must assume my post as supreme protector of the realm, both it’s body and mind. I can’t have you disrupting the counting traditions in the kingdom. Peasants are confused enough, and what would The Seven think if they were no longer seven out of ten, but seven out of four?” Joffrey laughed aloud at his own comical mathematical analysis. “I have considered this too in my infinitely subtle mind, and in consulting with my own godliness,” he paused so the hall could consider his deity claim. “No god would stand for being counted as double digits.” Joffrey leapt from the upper to the lower platform of the approach to the throne.

“Just imagine!” Joffrey laughed, getting into his element. He mimed a hidden form: “Here is one god”. He stepped laterally, “here is the second god.” His mother stepped forward to say something to him, but he gestured her a look that made her step quickly back. She held her arms and took to biting her thumbnail and looking down and away. Joffrey moved another spot over.

“Here is the third god,” he outlined. Then he stepped over again, “and then here, here Ser Wissel, is your tenth god.”

“I won’t…” Ser Wissel began to say, but Joffrey continued without acknowledging him.

“Here is your eleventh god, Ser Wissel, and your twelfth god, and your thirteenth god!” his voice growing louder as he spoke.

“Thirteen gods! Just imagine the confusion of my people, Ser Wissel. Many of them are, well, not up to our caliber I’ll say. A base ten number system is challenging enough, moving to a base four system would cause great confusion among my people, it might cause a shut down to the economy. Thumbs should not be counted as fingers!? We have four limbs and four digits on the ends of them all, so four-ness carries the day. Do I have your argument right, Ser?”

“Your Grace, it was just an intellectual musing,” Ser Wissel pleaded “I didn’t mean for it to become anything more than…”

“Just,” Joffrey emphasized, “jussttt an intellectual musing? Well my people’s confusion isn’t the worst of it. What would god’s ten through thirteen think of your,musing?”

“I won’t do it any more, your Grace,” Ser Wissel said in the most apologetic tone he could muster. He was still kneeling but he began to approach Joffrey, grovelling in his own fashion.

“No, you won’t” Joffrey said, in lower tones, disappointed actually. “Maybe, you will,” the beginnings of an idea were evidently growing in Joffrey’s mind. “Since you have an obvious disdain for thumbs, lowering their rank in the hierarchy of digits, I’m assuming you won’t miss them.”

“No, Your Grace!” Wissel pleaded. “I’m only suggesting that thumbs be understood actually as part of a greater order.”

“Are you correcting me Ser?” Joffrey asked. “No, you are quite upset, I can understand why, my being someone who is also often frustrated by the stupidity that leads to misunderstandings of my great ideas.” He looked over to his mother.

“Your Grace,” Wissel ventured. “I am guilty as charged, and I had not considered my claims to the depths that your great mind has taken them. I never intended any offense to you or The Seven.”

“I understand Ser Wissel, I understand,” Joffrey said in a strong and reasoned voice. “All the same, a punishment must fit the crime.” Wissel was crying. Joffrey motioned to Ser Ilyn. “You may keep your fingers, for your counting, but your thumbs are mine.”

Ser Ilyn took out a peculiar device that he regarded as a wonder as he brought it to fix on Ser Wissel’s thumb. Ser Wissel screamed out in pain, but the guards holding him didn’t show any signs of emotion. “I want his big toes as well,” Joffrey said, “I wouldn’t want to rob him of the symmetry.” Wissel now had to be propped up as his old body was giving out.

“Ser Wissel” Geoffrey said walking down onto the hall’s floor, but Wissel could not respond in between his furious sobbing. “Ser Wissel” Geoffrey said louder, standing a short distance away.

He gestured at Wissel’s groin, “Do you consider that to be a thumb, or just a mere finger?” Joffrey now began broadly smiling, he walked right up to the whimpering Wissel, “Finger? Is that finger, I heard you say? Good choice! You can keep that digit for your counting, though I’m sure it is, should we say, quint unessential, ha!” he laughed to himself. “Yes, I believe his counting days have long been over by the looks of it,” he said to the guards with a smile, and he regarded the old man with kind pity.

He walked back towards his throne. “Dog, take him away.”

[minor edits on 2016-03-30]

Previous Game Of Thrones Related Writing –


Sunday Night’s Watch: The Red Viper And The Golden Dwarf—Tyrion Proved Oberyn’s Champion

Note: Spoiler, don’t read/watch if you aren’t caught up through Season 4 on your Game of Thrones…

I have a firm belief that from the energy pulsating from the situation, that if the Mountain did not kill Oberyn, but somehow the Mountain divulged that he had indeed been ordered by Tywin to murder his sister and her children, that Oberyn would have thrown his spear through Tywin’s chest right then and there:

which is what I was hoping for… and reminiscent of the heroics from Spartacus (1960) when Draba throws his Trident up at Crassus and company:

Interesting how the richest people are always sitting, overseeing fights to the death but not partaking in them…

So Since Oberyn couldn’t continue to dole out justice, Tyrion championed his cause, albeit unknowingly and subconscious, and murdered Tywin for him. Tywin sentences his son to death, but his son corrects things and shows us that fathers are supposed to die first; in spite of father’s day (the show was aired on Father’s Day 2014, USA), Tyrion kills his father at an unintimate distance via crossbow, just as his father had kept his son at an unintimate distance: 

Aking to follow – Part One

It is a long enduring zeitgeist to be lost, bereft of direction. You don’t have to look too far to see that there are many people—perhaps even an entire generation—that has been set up psychologically and economically to be a listless mass. There is a yearning for a leader, to give these people the perception that their lives will have some value in the ranks of one who they would follow unto death. The king that I speak of could not get the devotion by wearing a business suit, and would not have followers that would robe themselves that ways either.

If one of the beloved actors or actresses from Game of Thrones were to reprise their roles outside of the show’s filming, and declare that they were a king and would lead any that were willing, you would have thousands showing up at their villas ready to do their bidding. If Armin were to declare himself a god on earth, millions of en-tranced followers would pledge their allegiance.

Is it part of the human condition or are we conditioned humans, to desire to be followers and let our ego be washed away to become a tributary to someone else’s wave?

The Daughter Trade, Chapter One and Done

Vrye was waiting nervously for his sister to call him in; he knew she had watched midwives deliver other babies, but had never done so herself. So many months of waiting—years really—to have a child to call his own. Vrye needed a new person to put all his hope and efforts into, a bit of light to outline the tunnel, “or is it really just a deepening hole?” he would ask himself pessimistically.
He used to have a very close connection to his parents, until he found out that their adoration for him was tainted by what his birth had meant. He was the force that put them into “the winner’s bracket” so that they might accrue a large family with the requisite dowries of fortune and land. However, in his original innocence, he had loved his parents and was very appreciative of the love he had received. It was the only time he really felt happiness until the dark reality of his corrupted people set in on his mind. He believed having a son that he could keep would be the first step in a new direction. His wife, Taya, he knew to be too much like the rest of them, too invested in the current system—that is after all why she was so happy to be married to him and all his acquired wealth.
Etianya, his sister, poked her head out the door and whispered “brother, I think you should come here.” Vrye quickly walked over and swallowed.
“Is it over? I didn’t hear any crying,” he looked a little panicked, “is the baby dead?” tears started to well up in his eyes, as he hadn’t even considered this possibility, so much riding on the others.
“No,” she looked down, “no, sometimes they don’t, I’ve seen it a couple of times before, it doesn’t mean anythings wrong.” Vrye looked relieved a bit, having things now in perspective. “But,” she continued gravely, “she is in danger.” Vrye looked very knowingly at her, and he almost blamed her for it, though he knew she was his only ally in all of this bad joke of a life. He hesitated to say anything, grounding himself and remembering his values. Then resolve took him.
“Does Taya know?” he asked suddenly, revealing additional fears that had been previously repressed.
“She was so out of it, and now she’s passed out…” Etianya hesitated, “I don’t think she even thought of it, she was just so out of it.” Vrye looked nervous. “She didn’t bleed much, I think she’s just very exhausted… and your daughter is quietly suckling, so I thought it was a good time to leave them.”
Vrye then got a very determined look. “My daughter,” he put his fist in his hand, and then started walking towards the door. “It’s settled then,” he said to himself, as he quickened his pace.
“Vrye,” his sister cried after him, seeing him grip his sword, “Vrye!!” He turned to look at her, “don’t start her life with a death.”
“You misunderstand me, sister, I am going to cut the cord,” and he turned through another doorway and headed down the hallway leading to the bedroom.
“I already cut it,” she whispered as loud as she could.
“One less thing to do then, but as long as I have her, I’ll need my sword. You know how they act when the stability of their system is threatened.” He paused and looked in, his eyes adjusting to the firelight. There was his daughter, so small, so needy, getting nurture from a mother that was imminently going to reject her. So far she hadn’t, and Vrye getting to actually see this connection, in the flesh, his attitude started to change, to soften. Maybe this time Taya would think differently, on her own, or even at his prodding, but this was so right and so natural, how could she so easily give it all up? He sat down next to the bed.
“Brother, what are you doing? You shouldn’t linger, you should go now,” Etiana insisted.
“I’m waiting until she wakes up… I won’t take my daughter from her mother without giving Taya a chance to see her face and realize what is right,” he said calmly. “Besides, I will not interrupt her first, and maybe only nursing from someone who truly loves her.”
“But she doesn’t love her, and she might not even have loved a him… you’ve said this so yourself.” Etiana reminded Vrye. “Look, I hate this whole thing, but I admire you and have always looked up to you, and what you are doing might be the one thing that I can truly keep in my mind and know is something good, worth making it through another day. I have a son, and that made me accepted in this world, but if I had the will to reject the world like you do now, having had only daughters… I was never really given a chance, luck made me fortunate, but I cannot say I truly enjoy it. Does anyone? Are the wealthy any less miserable than the poor? Certainly more comfortable…” Etiana came back to the present, she looked at him, “you need to go.”
“I don’t deny what you are saying, and I don’t change my mind, but I have a feeling she loves them when they are inside of her, and this is still very close to that. You’re right, I will not start her life with a death, and so I will not kill a relationship where there is hope it might survive. I need to give Taya this chance, I have to hope that she can change for her child, her fucking child. Gods damn us, why is everything so fucked up!? Today, I right things.”
“Just don’t spend too much time worshiping yourself brother, and make sure you are watching your back. Remember what you told me about cult followers: there are two types, those that want to catch up to you so that they can be like you, and those that want to catch you and slit your throat. You and I know that there are a lot more of the latter on this island; and for the rest of the world, that is a real mystery. But I have my doubts…” she was silent. Vrye seemed lost in thought, forgetting—perhaps intentionally—the gravity of what he was going to be doing once this tender family moment had to awake to the harsh reality. Why couldn’t things be like this and embraced, an aunt, a mother and father, and a beautiful new baby daughter, all in candlelit mellowness.
“Yes, but there’s got to be more people that are hiding in plain sight… but they’re cowards, you’re right, we know that and they might as well truly believe in this terrible system so they stop teasing us with hope. They are able to sow just enough doubt to make you waver. Then you bide your time instead of actually taking action, comforted by the fantasy that they might fight our battles with us, or for us. Either way, its not for me to rile them up anymore, its for you or others like you.”
“Once you’re story reaches them, you will have riled them up…” she started, but he put up his hand to cut her short.
“Etiana,” he said in a different tone, “don’t be naïve… I see it as a strength for you, but they will use it against you. You know my story will not be their story. Speaking of which, you should get back before you are implicated as part of this. You have already taken on an awful lot of risk for me, and I have been selfish with your time. I am very scared and you bring me comfort, but my daughter is born and very healthy, and I cannot ask you for anything more.”
“Vrye, this is the last time I will ever get to see you. If you would repay me for all that I have done, let it be by allowing me to choose to leave once I choose. Remember, I am never again going to get to see my older brother. I was so lucky to be brought into this family, but now my luck is literally going to run out…” she started to get teary eyed.
“I would like to go with the thought that I could come back and find you well, not dead or maimed,” he said, “especially knowing that it was because of me.”
“I chose to help you, and this is my fantasy too, but I would like to part with you at my own choosing,” she said.
The baby stopped suckling, and made a slight whimper, and then seemed to fall asleep. Vrye knew he couldn’t wait forever, but he didn’t want to wake Taya up just to lay on her the hardest decision of her life: to leave the only place she ever knew. He sat back and sighed, putting his hand on his daughter’s back and caressing her. He only had a boy’s name picked out, thinking a girl would not be an option. In his deepest honesty, though, he was glad it was a girl, it gave him the excuse to give a big “fuck you” to the system he so loathed. He had wanted and won agreement from Taya for his name to be Turo.
“I think I will give her the same name, Turo,” he said to Etiana, now lying down on one of the adjacent cots lost in her own thoughts.
“I’m sure you have a good reason,” said Etiana.
“I do”, he agreed. He took that as an invitation to explain his reasoning: “Because just like it shouldn’t matter whether or not a boy or girl is born first, it shouldn’t matter either if a name is supposed to be for a boy or a girl. Though…” he fell silent, hushed by some doubt. “I don’t know its tough, because I don’t want to get rid of this terrible system only to start new evil, laborious traditions. At best I go on to create a family that grows into a people and they—we have our own unique directions, and those are somehow corrupted and turned to evil use; at worst I do not get far enough away, or some plague takes me and my daughter and we die. Its so interesting how evil acts go beyond themselves and are able to corrupt good intentions. I know that the originals who came here to start this repatriarchalation weren’t totally corrupted, just men and women who…” Taya coughed, having been awake and listening to her husband for some time, able to gather that she had given birth to a girl. Vrye got up to fetch the water for her.
She started to speak but her voice was hoarse, “Vrye, immediately after giving birth and being exposed to those horrors of pain, I feel very courageous,” his eyes widened with hope, as she caught her breath. “Courageous enough to stand up to your boyish idealism. You are not taking her or yourself, though at times I wish you would disappear. You make my life a headache, even right after countless hours of labor.”
“It’s settled then, we need to leave, tonight, now, before any mention of this gets out,” Vrye said. He moved to take Turo, but Taya gripped her close to her bosom. “You would stop me from taking our daughter, but you wouldn’t stop them from taking her?”
“We’ve had this conversation a hundred times, I’m really not even sorry I didn’t give you a son. You would have ruined him and all his sisters…” she winced with pain and grabbed her side. Etiana moved to comfort her but then stopped when her brother responded.
“And I would’ve given him ideals that would keep him from ruining them himself—like all the other son’s we know of, who rape their sisters and kill their younger brothers because they see them as rivals, not as blood. Is that the kind of world you accept and defend for our daughter to go out into!?” He knew his arguments were futile, but he also knew that he had to give one last attempt at it getting through to his wife.
“What’s going to happen to me? You never think about me in any of this”, she cried allowed.
“You are plenty good of taking care of yourself”, he replied. “You play the game so I don’t know what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not saying about in the long run, but If you take her tonight, don’t you think you are putting me in a lot of danger?”
“Just play dumb, because that’s what you always do,” he said. He continued, “and you know, it amazes me how not good you are at it since you do it so often.” He repented these last words, he was just so angry.
“You never loved me,” she cried out. She looked at Etiana, “you love your sister more than your own wife… you probably have children with her that I don’t even know about. How are you any better than the other men out there?”
Vrye chose to not defend himself against this last accusation, it was mostly untrue and wouldn’t bring them to a better position. Calmly yet impassionately he said, “I love the you that loves our children, that loves the bump in your belly… but you always crush that you and replace another you. You are part of the sick irony of the land: that a man can have eight daughters and no children… this is sick, Taya, sick. Be healthy and come with me.”
Vrye was now standing next to her and calmly caressing their sleeping daughter. “Come with me,” he said, “come with me. The men who created this system were thinking it would make them stronger, when really they are at their lowest point, they are so weak because they cannot imagine or live in a world without this system. They thought they were rejecting feminism by creating this system, but really they were bringing it unto themselves. The imbalance has spread to both men and women. Be rid of it and come with me.”
After a long while Taya shook her head, “No, Vrye… sorry,” she was looking down at their daughter, still sleeping quietly. “Take her, take Turo. Go soon, before its too late.”
Vrye snapped out of a daze, grabbed his daughter, and was gone.

The Isle of the Uncastrated Elder Men, A Preface

This is the sketch of a people that I imagine being plotted into some corner of a fiction with available real estate, such as George R.R. Martin’s world from “A Song of Ice and Fire”; feel free to imagine them elsewhere—I hope they can be general enough to be recontextualized at need and interpolated into somewhere meaningful for you.
Their story has been long and slowly evolving in the periphery of my mind, and I think it has as its genesis a certain obvious yet widely repressed insight that a female colleague of mine mentioned four years ago: men are no longer confident to be leaders in their households or even in their own lives, doubt gnaws at them (us). She placed this as being an unfortunate result from the lamentable feministic reorganization of western society during the 1960s, but I am not going to give it as specific a rooting for I don’t know enough recent history to say when the change began or accelerated. However, the fact that there has been a qualitative change in gender-power distribution from a patriarchal modality to something not entirely matriarchal, but a structure alienating to men at the least (I won’t speak for women on this issue), sometime over the last century or two, cannot be denied. To think that a shift of this magnitude can happen without serious repercussions in all spheres of human existence—psychological, social, and whatever others you want to fill in—would be to not appreciate the extent to which culture goes to the very depths in influencing our patterns of thinking and behavior; some of these shifts might be good, and some of them might be bad, it depends on how you choose to evaluate them. Certainly the manifestation of “man caves” and relationships where “she wears the pants” give enough street credit to this contemporary phenomenon existing.
It is coming from this knowledge that the story of “The Uncastrated Elder Men” was born. A group of men and “conservative” women set out to find a new society in which the old patriarchal values would be reclaimed. You can be the judge of whether or not you think their efforts will be lasting enough, or whether their ploy is very superficial and won’t be more than a generational fad(e).

Continued in: The Daughter Trade, Chapter One and Done

Sunday Night’s Watch: Game of Thrones Spoiler Alert—The choices of…

Ser Jorah Mormont

In the second most recent episode, an old favorite character—Jorah the Andal—was banished from serving by the side of his queen Daenerys. He was last seen on camera leaving on a horse with the city of Meereen—personally I thought he should have stayed and in so doing forced Daenerys to execute him or to realize that he was truly loyal to her cause.

However, he still has opportunities to prove his loyalty and not have to switch sides and get tangled with the political clusterfuck in King’s Landing (ensuring that he’d never be able to be part of Daenerys’s cause again, and feeling terrible inside).

1) He can return to the previously liberated city of Astapor where now an autocrat named Cleon rules and has re-enslaved the population. If Jorah plays his cards right he can get close to Cleon and then betray him, delivering the city to Daenerys if she wants it, and proving that he is truly loyal to her.

2) He can go to Yunkai where Dario Naharis and the Second Sons were sent to retake that previously liberated city (I’m assuming they’ll be successful in this endeavor) and have them go take Astapor with him, hoping to get this underway before word of his banishment reaches them. I don’t know if there are carrier ravens on Essos that could thwart his plans.

3) He can go to Westeros and try to establish a beachhead there for her and rally people loyal to the Targaryen cause that she is alive and gaining power. He doesn’t strike me as a missionary type, though, so this would be out of character.

The only option I really like is #1, I think its the most plausible and factually accurate (I don’t know enough to say if #3 would even fit). Anyways, I wanted to get this post out before, I had some other things to say about the season 4 finale entitled “The Children.” I think the Sand Snakes will enter the show (I heard rumours they were going to be by readers of the book) or at least a nod to them somehow, maybe by killing Cersi’s daughter in Dorne in revenge for their father’s being killed. Further, all the Stark children plots will be featured, and I think that King Tomlin, at the urging of Margaery Tyrell to be a king, will pardon his uncle Tyrion.

One Further note, a possible stray from a plausible reality in the facts of George R.R. Martin: the slavery that takes place in the three great slave cities of Slaver’s Bay is highly improbable in its scope. The reason for this is urban slavery at a large scale makes no sense as the economics don’t add up in a medieval/feudal setting. Slaves primary function would be to work the land, what huge benefit could they be in large numbers holed up in some city, without in reality just being too many mouths to feed. There is a scene of a shepherd who was probably a former slave before manumission, but the fact that the slaves of Yunkai and Meereen are housed in the city, too far from huge tracts of land where their numbers could be made economical to their owners. Perhaps this is not a problem and the slavery is described in the books in a way that the directors did not or could not adequately show in the series.

Next post I will try to not discuss the entertainment that I rail against, and get my thoughts more together for some facet of society that is pissing me off. Selling and buying a house leaves one stretched thinner than little butter scraped over loaves of bread!