chosehumanity (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chosehumanity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2009-12-01 07:09 am
chosehumanity) wrote in fandomhigh2009-12-01 07:09 am
Entry tags:
World Wars in Media, Tuesday
"There's one last big power in the war we haven't spoken about at all," Mitchell announced. He was, as always, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a slight quirk of a grin on his face. "The Soviets." He patted the giant expanse of the USSR on the map behind him. "As you may remember, the communists took control of the country during the First World War, first under the guidance of a bloke called Lenin. But Lenin had a bad heart, and died less than a decade after his rise to power. There was a bit of infighting, but out of the whole mess came this guy..."
He pointed at the picture. "Joseph Stalin," he said, "One of the old Bolsheviks. In the present day, he's most famous for the enormous amount of people he had executed for reasons political, ethnic, and related to how bad a day he was having at the time. Millions died - estimates go between three and sixty million, in fact. Anyway, this mass-murdering psycho entered the war as one of Germany's allies, until Hitler decided to try and screw him over. As anyone can tell you, you really don't want to start a war that involves you marching into Russia. It's cold, the distances are harsh, and there's a lot of people in there." He eyed the map with a look that was almost fond. "The Russians hit him back, invaded most of the eastern territories, and didn't stop until their red feet had dropped them off in Berlin."
"Of course," he said, "People started mysteriously disappearing all around during that march, too. Nevermind all the pillaging and looting and... other things that were going around." He bit down on his lower lip for a second. "Stalin," he started again, "Had this funny habit of literally making people disappear. See, one minute they would be there, in all of these pictures with him, and the next, they weren't. Magical, isn't it?" Ah, sarcasm, how we loved thee. "He thought he could just scrub people from our collective minds. How's that for using the media?"
He leaned forward on the couch. "Does anyone think it's possible?" he asked, idly. "Especially in these days of photo manipulation and photoshop, you could lead anyone to believe just anything. In fact, I'd like you all to sort through a few of these pictures and tell me if you find something missing or wrong."
He pasted up two pictures. "There's your example."
[[wait for ocd up! ]]
He pointed at the picture. "Joseph Stalin," he said, "One of the old Bolsheviks. In the present day, he's most famous for the enormous amount of people he had executed for reasons political, ethnic, and related to how bad a day he was having at the time. Millions died - estimates go between three and sixty million, in fact. Anyway, this mass-murdering psycho entered the war as one of Germany's allies, until Hitler decided to try and screw him over. As anyone can tell you, you really don't want to start a war that involves you marching into Russia. It's cold, the distances are harsh, and there's a lot of people in there." He eyed the map with a look that was almost fond. "The Russians hit him back, invaded most of the eastern territories, and didn't stop until their red feet had dropped them off in Berlin."
"Of course," he said, "People started mysteriously disappearing all around during that march, too. Nevermind all the pillaging and looting and... other things that were going around." He bit down on his lower lip for a second. "Stalin," he started again, "Had this funny habit of literally making people disappear. See, one minute they would be there, in all of these pictures with him, and the next, they weren't. Magical, isn't it?" Ah, sarcasm, how we loved thee. "He thought he could just scrub people from our collective minds. How's that for using the media?"
He leaned forward on the couch. "Does anyone think it's possible?" he asked, idly. "Especially in these days of photo manipulation and photoshop, you could lead anyone to believe just anything. In fact, I'd like you all to sort through a few of these pictures and tell me if you find something missing or wrong."
He pasted up two pictures. "There's your example."
[[
Re: Talk to Mitchell
She'd gotten most of it off her skin and hair, but yeah. Still smelled like it. Of course Kate had to check in with Mitchell to bitch about it.
Re: Talk to Mitchell
... he smelled of egg nog, too. "Yeah? What brought on that wisdom?"
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Not that she could really smell it through what she smelled like herself, but with the two of them together, the odor was clearly stronger.
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
She paused, then rolled her eyes. "Can't believe I even said that. It's gross and it's Fandom. It's gonna last at least today."
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "See, I do too, but my boots were sent from hell to torment me, so I didn't wear them that day. Which is how my ankles got bitten."
Re: Talk to Mitchell
"Clearly," he said, "You need to spend more time on your battle armour."
Re: Talk to Mitchell
But one too many 'nothing off's and she'd start asking questions.
"No, I think the key is avoiding battles altogether," she argued. "...But here it's starting to seem like actual armor might be something to invest in."
Re: Talk to Mitchell
Re: Talk to Mitchell