text:
Formal Request of the Galactic Underworld (IC)
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Centurial Hawk
"Heeeeeeeey Boss!" Maneera called as she walked into the common, a bottle in each hand. "Got an unbirthday gift for you!"
A single blue light on TR-0L's head flickered to life. "TR = need recharge // Organic = loud," the droid hooted indignantly as it withdrew its power cable from a wall socket and trundled off toward the engine room. "Air recycler = quieter."
"Good riddance, you piece of scrap metal," Nayar growled after TR, "and I suppose 'Unbirthday' is a trademarked 'Man'-erism now?"
"That was awful." Maneera scowled and tucked the bottles close against her chest. "I don't think I'm going to give you these, now."
"After all I've done for you? For shame, Mans," Nayar shook his head in mock disappointment.
"From under the counter at the Mynock," Mans replied, her tone just slightly frosty as she set the bottles down on the table before flopping down onto the couch. "Found the woman from the security video, by the way. She'll be stopping by at 1200."
Nayar stopped and blinked at those words. "I'm sorry, fly that by me again?"
"You remember, the one we both decided couldn't possibly be with Republic Security? I ran into her while I was out, we talked, and she'll be coming here in a few hours." Maneera arched an eyebrow. "That's not going to be a problem, is it?"
"Uh, yeah, there might be! We don't have any info on this broad, Mans. You didn't even bother to ask my opinion."
"Look, she wasn't gonna talk without a show of good faith, so I let her pick the place for a meet. She already knows where we're parked, and all she knows about us is my fake record, so it's not like I spilled anything crucial." Maneera looked up, her tone turned pleading. "Come on, Boss. This is our best shot to find out about the competition
maybe get one of them on side."
"And how many times has that worked for us, Mans?" Nayar responded incredulously. "I don't like this one bit, and no amount of booze, women, men, or sweets will change my mind- Oh, stop doing those crocodile tears, they don't work on me!"
Maneera stood up suddenly, mouth open to start a reply, then held in a breath instead. "Okay, look," she finally said. "There's only one of her, compared to two and a droid of us. She's meeting us on
home ground, and we still have more than enough time to prepare. Yeah, okay, it's a risk, and maybe I shouldn't have signed us on for it without running it past you first, but this is pretty far from the dumbest risk we've ever taken."
Nayar stared at her for a minute, then sighed heavily. "Fine. But if she makes so much as a glance at my weapon collection, I will boot her @ss off this ship before you can say 'Kessel Run in 12 parsecs,' got it?"
"Understood, Boss."
It was exactly 1155, and Serlynne was standing just outside the
Fortune's Folly
. She was in her usual black costume with two twin blasters resting in the firearms on her hips. Nerama could talk about friendly meeting all she liked but as far as Serlynne was concerned, she was about to venture into unknown, hostile territory, so the only thing assassin left at her ship was the sniper rifle, and only because it was pretty useless for shooting at short range in closed space.
Naturally, Serlynne did a background check on her new acquaintance, but hadn't found anything major, just loitering and public nuisance, a few minor assault charges, in and out of drunk tanks throughout Republic space. Which left the assassin with a distinct feeling that Nerama's criminal record was as real as her own cover in Coruscant Security, but Serlynne simply had no time to reach her contracts for any actual info. There was also the matter of Nerama's yet-to-be-named boss, but that would have to wait until after the meeting would be over.
Speaking of which, are they going to invite me in already or what?
Suddenly tired of just standing there and doing nothing, Serlynne moved closer to one of the ship's outer cameras and gave it a look the assassin usually used on people she had to drag intel from.
If that doesn't get their attention, I swear I'll just slice the door to their cargo hold and screw the rest-
"Lady, it's called knocking. I assume someone as skilled as you claim to be understands the concept?" a rough, masculine voice answered through her portable radio.
"Damn it, Boss, be nice!" chimed a second voice — Nerama's. "Sorry about that, Miss Lyris. We weren't really expecting you to be early."
Serlynne suppressed a brief urge to tell the owner of the voice just where he should shove his opinion regarding her skills. Instead she offered the ship's camera a sarcastic smile and said evenly on the radio: "If I wanted to show my skills, right now I would be greeting you while standing right behind your back. But I assumed you would be a gentleman and open the door for the lady without me asking for it. Alas, I have overestimated you."
"Okay, let's hold that thought for a second. You arrived to the meeting early, waited near the only place of the ship without a camera, and made no attempt to even notify either of us you were here, and it's
fault for not opening the door for you?
," the male voiced dripped with sarcasm. "Add to that the nice idle threat you just made, and not only have you just managed hurt my manly feelings, but you've also managed
to endear yourself to the owner of the property you're about to set foot in. You graduated top of the class, didn't ya, thief?"
Around the side of the ship, a gangway deployed and a door hissed open. A moment later, Nerama was at the bottom of the ramp, waving. "Over here! Sorry again about Boss, he's always a little —" She made a goofy face and flailed her hands around her head. "— around strangers."
"Your manly feelings are your own problem, buddy," replied Serlynne, both unwilling to let it go and not wishing to provoke the man any futher. "And as far as I am concerned, I was the only one in my school who passed the final exam." Which was true... in a way. No one else dared to leave the Hutts by their own will.
Serlynne reached the ramp and extended her hand to greet Nerama. "Nice to see you again. Glad you are keeping him in check."
"I do what I can," Nerama laughed as she reached out to shake Serlynne's hand. She turned, starting back up the ramp. "Come on in and we can start getting things hammered out."
Which reminds me of one little mystery I left unsolved.
"By the way," said Serlynne. "With all this running about, I almost forgot to ask the most trivial thing about your boss. What is his name?"
"Oh, did I forget to make introductions for him? Sorry about that," Nerama replied with an anxious chuckle. "Alecs Beval." She led Serlynne into the common where a man — presumably her boss — stood glowering. "Miss Lyris, meet Alecs Beval. Boss, this is Aziure Lyris. Be nice."
"Alecs" glowered for a few seconds more before sighing, putting his hand out to shake hers. "A pleasure, all that nice meeting stuff, blah, blah, blah."
Serlynne shook his hand. "So you are the mastermind behind that little invasion into the mainframe. Tracking you down was a pain in the ***, but the results were worth the efforts."
"A simple anti-trace program I hacked together from scratch. Not particularly advanced, but it does the job for a fraction of the cost," Alecs shrugged. "I'm more interested in how I missed your signature when I accessed security. Perhaps I was focused too much on deleting all footage of Nerama. In any case, not bad."
"I have my ways to stay hidden," simply said Serlynne. "Now, if we've done with niceties, let's cut right to the chase. You want to steal the holocron and get the money, it's fine by me. In fact I am ready to assist you whatever way you'll choose. What I want, is to know who and why wants this artifact so badly. Call it a whim, if you wish, but I really would like to know that more then I am interested in the reward itself. So, what will you say?"
"Wait, hang on," Nerama blurted out. "The thing's a holocron? You're absolutely sure about that?"
"What, you didn't know?" Serlynne said with a mix of disappointment and sincere surprise in her voice. "I just assumed you have seen it on the footage. Yes, it is a holocron with a few strange markings on its sides. I haven't risked opening it though, so don't ask me what's on it."
She didn't bother mentioning a transmitter now hidden there - holding this little secret could still prove to be useful should Serlynne fail to ally herself with Alecs and Nerama.
Nerama's expression shifted sharply; calm, easy cheer was replaced by angry focus with no visible transition between. "Boss, sidebar," she said as she grabbed Alecs by the elbow and dragged him aside. "This changes everything."
"How so?" Alecs questioned.
"This is Robe sh*t," she snarled. "Black robes or brown, I can't tell and don't really care, but I'm not letting them play me—
for chumps. We can't just give this thing to Master Three Hundred Large."
"Sure we can, just like every other job before. Let them have it," he shrugged. "Creds are creds."
"For the non-existent record," Nerama grumbled, "I think this is a rotten idea." She turned and stalked back toward Serlynne.
The assassin waited patiently while Nerama and Alecs had their private conversation. Nerama's strange reaction to her words left Serlynne somewhat puzzled.
Just how does it change anything? I sure hope they do not have some stupid moral reasons for not stealing any important knowledge. And given the price, this one has to be very important indeed. But for whom?
"Okay. So we're in it for the creds, while you," said Nerama, pointing to Serlynne, "want to find out who's holding the purse strings — which, I've gotta say, is a much more interesting question now than it was a few minutes ago. I see no compelling reason for us not to pool our efforts."
"Neither do I," smiled Serlynne "So, Alecs? What's your verdict?"
"My verdict? 'Why are we standing here when there's creds to be had?' is my verdict."
"I may be on the side of the angels,
but don't think for one second that I am one of them."


text:
I stole a story from the Baal Shem Tov. Well, I sort of stole it. The part about it being in space, the aliens, the toy robots, the overprotective parents, and the saving the universe without the universe knowing about you saving it -- those parts I may or may not have made up myself.
(Except for the overprotective parents. That part's based on real life.)
Anyway: Here's a movie where I talk about The Gobblings and writing and how the rest of the world tells stories to put kids to bed, and we tell stories to wake ourselves up. Thanks to Daniel and David for filming it, and JAKEtv for making it real, and the wondrous people at Hevria for letting me be egotistical for a change.
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
The Gobblings: The Movie (sort of)
Labels: gobblings, hevria, movies, storytelling, video
Posted by Matthue Roth at 9:30 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
A Girl Can Become the King
I showed my daughters this morning's newspaper, and it was incredible to watch their faces light up. The oldest read the headline out loud -- Clinton Seals Triumph With California Victory -- and then she squealed, like really squealed, not the I-got-a-new-toy squeal but the I-did-my-multiplication-table-perfectly-for-the-first-time squeal, the squeal that says, holy shit, something in the world has fundamentally changed.
When we talked about who to vote for, I was pretty harsh that the girls weren't allowed to choose Hillary because she was a girl, and that we need to find out as much as we can about everyone, and we want to choose the best people, no matter who they are. (We followed through with this down to some last-minute Googling of superdelegates in the voting booth.) Everyone has good points and bad points, and I really don't like how Bernie probably wouldn't be very cooperative with anyone who wasn't on the same page as him, and I don't like that Hillary seems like a big-balls career politician with no guiding conscience.
But on the level of pure, simple, and direct showing my three daughters that girls can do anything, having a woman on the front page of the paper, claiming the nomination, conceivably becoming the leader of our country, it was an awesome fucking moment. I've been telling them since they were born that they can do anything. There's a lot of stuff that's still in the way, but it just came one step closer to true.
Pic: One more text from Hilary
Labels: 1/20, hillary clinton, orthodox girls, princesses
Posted by Matthue Roth at 11:05 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Why I Write about Peeing
Sometimes you just need to get out.
(read the rest)
Labels: hevria, hisbodedus, peeing
Posted by Matthue Roth at 11:10 AM 0 comments
Monday, May 9, 2016
Dancing by Myself
When I wrote my latest Hevria post, I was feeling kind of fatalistic. The kids were not sleeping and I was watching Avengers: Age of Ultron. I'd just talked to a bunch of friends who went to the much-newer, and much-better-reviewed Civil War. That's probably why I was feeling so depressed. Anyway, most people told me it was depressing. Although I think it's kind of funny? Maybe you can figure it out.
Dancing in TrafficBY MATTHUE ROTH • MAY 10, 2016 • ESSAY
Labels: comic books, depression, hevria, marvel comics, memoir, the happy dance
Posted by Matthue Roth at 9:00 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Teen Self-Referential Drama, Plus Or Minus a Few Years
I wrote another installment of my San Francisco-to-New York travelogue. I keep thinking, like, maybe my entire career is simply rewriting every Judy Blume book in chronological order, as memoir. Except that, in my version, the 13-year-old girl is played by an overgrown boy with an overgrown beard.
In This Huge Universe, The Only Things That Matter Are G-d And Girls
Labels: california, death and los angeles, dogs, hot girls, los angeles, queer, road trips
Posted by Matthue Roth at 9:02 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Kosher on the Road-ster
We're four episodes in, and my Lesbian Hasidic Cross Country Road Trip story -- a little serial thing that I'm writing for Hevria -- finally gets on the road. Basically, we make it to the first bathroom break.
I'm still trying to decide whether I should keep writing. I'll let you know what happens.
Kosher on the RoadBY MATTHUE ROTH • DECEMBER 8, 2015 • ESSAY
Labels: fast food, food, hevria, kosher, queer, road trips, serial
Posted by Matthue Roth at 5:40 PM 0 comments
Monday, November 16, 2015
The Way Smoke Smells
So I really love going into the conference room at this day job, and I just realized why. Everyone who smokes goes through the conference room and into the fire escape, and so there's a residue, not of smoke, but of sort of pre-smoke and post-smoke, maybe the smell ignited by freshly burning paper, or a special smell that only happens at the moment when a match strikes?
It reminds me of my aunt's house growing up, and of inch-high shag carpeting, and of the '70s. No word on whether there's a bunch of furtive, antisocial Siamese cats patrolling around the office, but I'll keep you updated.
Labels: day job, memoir, smoke
Posted by Matthue Roth at 3:22 PM 0 comments
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
Think your television is recycled when you get rid of it? This is where it is likely to end up... dumping grounds such as this one, dubbed the world's biggest e-waste site
- Photographer Kevin McElvaney documented how electrical goods are illegally dumped at Agbogbloshie, in Ghana
- He said boys and young men make their living by smashing up devices to search for valuable materials
- The work can lead to a range of injuries and illnesses, including lung problems, headaches and insomnia
- Mr McElvaney said most of the boys will die from cancer in their 20s, yet even being aware of the dangers does not put many of them off working at the site
Once a fertile wetland, this scarred corner of Ghana is now dominated by black plumes of smoke and the acrid smell of burning plastic after becoming the world's largest e-waste dumping ground, littered with unwanted televisions and electronic devices from across the globe.
While most people would expect their electrical goods to be recycled properly, the toxic chemicals inside can make it expensive to do so, making illegal dumping a lucrative business.
Traders from across Europe, the U.S., China and India have therefore reportedly been sending containers of 'Development Aid' or 'Second-Hand Products' to Tema Harbour, the contents of which end up being dumped 20 miles east in Agbogbloshie.
Dumping ground: Ogbogbloshie has become the world's largest e-waste dumping ground. Pictured is Adam Nasara, 25, using polystyrene to light a fire
Health problems: The eyes of John Mahama, 21, are twitching, he suffers from insomnia and has debilitating headaches, but continues to work
Waste: Old monitors are used to build bridges across the water. Traders from across the world have reportedly illegally dumped goods at the site
Playground: Agbogbloshie is a playground for Kwabena Labobe, 10. His parents are not able to send him to school and forbid him to burn e-waste
Making a living: Baba Salifu, 15, burns e-waste and breeds goats in Agbogbloshie. While some of the boys are aware of the health risks posed by working at the site, many are not put off
Photographer Kevin McElvaney has now documented how boys and young men make their living by salvaging metals and burning cables to get to the copper inside.
Such dangerous work among toxic chemicals however leads to a range of injuries including lung problems, untreated wounds, headaches and insomnia.
The Hamburg-based photographer said most of the boys die from cancer in their 20s, but even being aware of the dangers is not enough to put many of them off carrying on working at the site.
He said the old lagoon is filled with computers, monitors, Hi-Fi systems, videoplayers and a range of other devices, as a result of illegal exportation and fake donations labelled as 'development aid'.
He said while some of the boys are now careful about the risks of working at the site, others continue to remain unaware of the dangers, while some just no longer care.
He said one of the young men had arrived at Agbogbloshie from the Ivory Coast a few days earlier to start his 'career' searching for tins between the food waste.
Once fertile land: Mr McElvaney said cows still visit their old grazing grounds but are now poisoned by the e-waste
Occupation: Adam Latif, 21 cycles around the dumping ground and brings lucrative tools to his friends, who burn the e-waste
Water: Adjoa, nine, sells small water bags to the boys. They drink it and also use it to extinguish fires
Work: Munu Tali,14, also sells small water bags, often sold by girls in groups. In the background is a shack where youngsters dismantle the e-waste in groups and protect themselves from the sun
Escape: Mohammed Camara, 20, left the Ivory Coast because his family were killed in civil war. Agbogbloshie is his escape
Metal collector: Some of the young men, such as Alhassan Adams, 19, say they will never burn e-waste and focus their work on collecting tins. They are still at risk of malaria because of the amount of mosquitos present
Writing on his website, Mr McElvaney said: 'I wondered why he was satisfied with this situation but then he told me, that because of civil war struggles in his homeland he lost his mum, dad and brother and decided to stay rather here, than to fight and maybe die there.'
Mr McElvaney goes on to write that while he felt sorry for the people who lived in Agbogbloshie, he felt it was wrong to be sad while the children played and spoke of their future plans.
He writes: 'Most boys work together as a group and help each other like a family. Many of them try to forget the sad parts in their story and focus on their opportunities, which was wonderful to hear, but I had some facts in the back of my mind.
'Most of them will die from cancer in their 20s and grow up without education.
Worker: Rahman Dauda, 12, started working here three years ago and burns e-waste with a few friends. 'Whenever possible I go to school,' he says
For sale: Computers that look like they are in good shape are sold untested to customers in Accra and elsewhere
Littered: Mohammed Amin, 20, has been burning e-waste at the site for the last two years
Fruit sellers: Women from a nearby market sell fruit to the boys and scrap dealers
Friends: Pieter Adongo, 17, shows a Polaroid of himself and his friends, Desmond Atanga, 17, and Sampson Kwabena, 16
Collecting metal: Desmond Atanga, 17, uses magnets from old speakers to collect metal on the site
'Chief': Ibrahim Abdulai, 23, is a 'chief'. Nobody is working for him, but he is able to decide who is allowed to burn and who does not in this particular area
'At the point where they have enough money, they often get sick and have to spend it on medicine, sleeping pills and food.
'To earn money, they can just start the same work again and again, but in the end they are not able to leave this place and start their dream.
'So this work seems wrong, but till today there is no alternative in this region. Burning cables and electronic-waste became a livelihood for many people there and it is expected that the e-waste exports to Ghana will be doubled till 2020.'
To see more of Mr McElvaney's work visit facebook.com/derkevindotcom.
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text:
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text:
Weston Richburg is CSU's highest NFL Draft pick since 1987
May 9, 2014
FORT COLLINS, Colo. – The Rams had been stuck on 99 NFL draft picks after Colorado State offensive lineman Shelley Smith was drafted by the Houston Texans in the 2010 NFL Draft. That number increased to 100 on Friday after center Weston Richburg was selected by the New York Giants in the second round with the 43rd overall pick.
"I couldn't be more excited to snap to Eli Manning," Richburg said. "I'm honored to have an opportunity to play for such a successful organization."
Richburg, who is only the ninth Ram selected in the first two rounds, is CSU's highest draft pick since 1987 when quarterback Kelly Stouffer was selected sixth overall by the St. Louis Cardinals.
"This was well deserved," said Head Coach Jim McElwain, who coached Richburg for two years. "He's a guy that came in here and really jumped right into the system and the program. I can't express how proud I am of him. Being picked in the second round is really saying something. We obviously thought he was something special, and the people in the National Football League must think the same."
Richburg first received a phone call from a Giants scout who said they were about to draft him. Then the phone was handed to Head Coach Tom Coughlin.
"I spoke to Coach Coughlin and he talked about my work ethic and how excited he was to get me in New York," Richburg said.
The 6-foot-3, 298-pound center set the school record, starting in 50 consecutive games. Since 2010, Richburg blocked for 7,765 rushing yards and 140 total offensive touchdowns. Richburg earned first-team All-Mountain West honors in 2013 after earning honorable mention in 2012 and second-team honors in 2011. As a freshman, he was named a first-team Freshman All-America center by Phil Steele and CollegeFootballNews.com.
As a senior in 2013, Richburg blocked for CSU's single-season rushing leader Kapri Bibbs, who rushed for 1,741 yards, and led the Rams to their first bowl victory and appearance since 2008.
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