Retroactive Continuity: Another Castle: Grimoire

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

Mea culpa: I somehow managed to miss two weeks of updates, which means I owe y’all THREE NA09 chapters and AT LEAST three videos. I’m trying to queue them all up now:  NA09 posts Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and multi-video posts Tuesday and Thursday.

The original Super Mario Bros., which of course is the referent in the title Another Castle, does not actually have an ending. At the end of every world, Toad informs you that the princess is in another castle, until you finish World 8 and find her–but even then, she just tells you to try a more challenging game, starting you over from the game’s beginning, but now the enemies are stronger or faster. Reach her again, and she does it again, over and over, until eventually the game runs out of more challenging versions of itself to throw at you–but even then, you’re not done. The game just returns to its original version and repeats the entire cycle over again.

The princess is unattainable. The only ways to end are to give up, to die, or to play a different game. The last option being the only one that leads to further choices, it’s clearly the way to go.

The concept of the princess is shifting now. Once, as Another Castle observes, princesses were passive entities traded as pawns in diplomatic games. The daughters of royalty–indeed, of nobility in general–were married off to unite families and generate heirs, and fairy tales reflect that old reality. The princess is a prize to be won, a symbol of the hero’s ascension into the rank of royalty, with little in the way of agency. Fantasy, in turn, reflects the fairy tales its writers grew up on, and so the video game princess is the unattainable prize dangled in front of the player, a promise of ascension never fulfilled to pull us along the game’s path.

But something has changed in recent years. “Princess” doesn’t always mean passive feminine object anymore. It never entirely did–Princess Leia largely rescues herself in Star Wars–but in animation and comics in particular, it’s starting to mean something else entirely. In Disney movies like Tangled, Wreck-It-Ralph, and Frozen, and cartoons from a variety of sources, like Adventure Time,  My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic,  and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the position of princess is increasingly depicted as one of political authority and magical prowess. Indeed, in those last two, it has little to do with royalty at all, and instead means something akin to “archmage.”

Another Castle: Grimoire is in large part about that transition. Beldora is, at first, a fairly typical princess of the Disney Renaissance: she feels oppressed by castle etiquette and politics, bound by conventions and rules, and yearns for More(tm). When she is forced to surrender to the evil Lord Badlug to protect her kingdom from destruction, her path seems as clear to her as it is to us: get the magic sword, slay him, and rescue herself. It is classic 90s Grrl Power libfem: the problem is that women are second-class citizens, and the solution is empowerment, which is to say More(tm): princesses who slay monsters and rule their own kingdoms, more women as CEOs, more women as cops and soldiers.

But it isn’t that simple, and the comic, to its credit, reflects that. Trading one tyrant for another doesn’t do much for the people on the street, even if the new tyrant has way better hair. Beldora wants to be someone other than who she’s told to be, but it’s not enough for her alone to do that. She soon learns–courtesy of Robin, the destitute “true king” of Grimoire who desires to be nothing of the sort–that she must seek liberation for all, even peasants and monsters (who, cleverly, are interchangeable in Grimoire). To be genuinely free to choose for herself, she must create a world in which all are free to choose their lifepaths and leaders alike–so in the midst of a popular uprising led by Robin, she beheads Badlug.

And is hailed as king. It is the libfem happy ending; a woman, through individual empowerment, attaining the pinnacle of masculine authority. She has More(tm), and has proven that women can do anything men can do, namely take on roles that derive from and perpetuate patriarchal and kyriarchical structures of power.

So she abdicates in favor of forming a democracy, then announces her intention to bring democracy to the other kingdoms, too, starting with her homeland. She has grown to understand, as few heroes do, the difference between power and freedom, and realized that the latter is worth far more–but is unattainable for the individual. Our entire culture is a game, dangling the unattainable in front of us, to pull us onward on a path, and reaching the end isn’t the end, it just unlocks new enemies. Even if the princess rescues herself, she isn’t free of the game; she just starts from the beginning as Mario, and some other princess is captured in her place.

The only ways out are to die, to give up–or to play a different game. The princess doesn’t rescue herself. She wields Mario as a weapon and helps the Koopas revolt. She changes the game too much for it to ever be played again.

And that is, always, the end goal. The freedom to be who we want to be comes not from playing the game to victory. That just makes us who the game wants us to be. Instead we–together, all at once–have to break the game, so that everyone can play something else.


Current status of the Patreon:

Video Multipost: Vlogs: Ducktales S2E7, Rocky & Bullwinkle S1E3-4, and Star vs. S3E1-4

The video posting swarm continues! Here’s three vlogs:

Ducktales bonus vlog!

A commissioned vlog for Nick Barovic…

And a Star vs. bonus vlog!

Reminder that Patreon backers can request commissions, see these videos 4-5 weeks early, AND see Near-Apocalypse articles four MONTHS early! 

I had to save her (Chemistry)

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

Mea culpa: I somehow managed to miss two weeks of updates, which means I owe y’all THREE NA09 chapters and AT LEAST three videos. I’m trying to queue them all up now:  NA09 posts Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday, and multi-video posts Tuesday and Thursday.

It’s October 24, 1998. Monica tops the charts with “The First Night”; they’re otherwise largely unchanged. Pleasantville opens at number one at the box office, which likewise isn’t otherwise moving very much. In the news, basically nothing is happening, at least according to the exhaustive research I’ve conducted (looking at the Wikipedia page for 1998).

The whole world is basically giving a resounding “meh,” which could well be the response to this episode. It’s not that the idea is a bad one–giving Bruce Wayne a chance at genuine happiness and love, then snatching it away, can be very effective, as demonstrated by Mask of the Phantasm. The problem here is lack of space: there just isn’t room to go through all the beats of this story and show Bruce’s emotional arc in a satisfying way. In the 2010s, TV has hit upon a number of strategies for this, most notably shifting more plot beats from overt text to implied offscreen events, making more room for characterization. This strategy, however, requires trusting the audience to fill in the blanks, and that may not be as possible for children’s entertainment. Modern cartoons have dealt with the issue by employing other strategies–most notably, finding ways to build characterization and execute plot beats simultaneously, and relying more heavily on music and musical numbers to expand the available bandwidth for conveying emotion.

These techniques aren’t really available for a Batman cartoon in 1998, so instead we lose the character beats that made Mask of the Phantasm so powerful. Batman takes longer to show up to the final fight with Poison Ivy than Robin and Batgirl do, so we can guess that he took a moment before putting on the batsuit they brought him. He may have just stood there and mourned Susan, or at least his relationship; he may have needed time to shift back into the Batman headspace; he may have despaired at ever escaping the suit. But that moment, which could have been very effective, is elided in favor of Robin melting a plant man.

There is, in fact, a lot of melting of plant people in this fight sequence. True, they were constructs created by Poison Ivy, but they could obviously pass a Turing Test–they demonstrably trick observers into believing they are human. As Susan notes, the pheromones got things started, but most of the work of getting Bruce Wayne to fall in love with her was “all me.” Michael and Susan both exhibit concern and fear, and Susan shows sadness and pride. They’re plant people, and yet superheroes and supervillain alike treat them with absolute disregard.

The result is that the moment where Susan looks out the window of the sinking yacht, crying as Batman leaves her to her death, falls badly flat. Batman tries and fails to save Poison Ivy from the same fate (in the sense that he is unable to pull her from the sinking wreck; obviously she survives and resurfaces in later shows, most notably Static Shock), because she is a person to him, but the woman he fell in love with no longer is. To him, she’s just a thing, and indeed no one in the episode ever suggests treating the plant monsters as anything but things, with Robin and Batgirl enthusiastically melting them with weed killer.

None of the characters care, and that makes it hard for us to care. The shot through the porthole of Susan crying is the show reflexively reaching for the sympathetic villain buttons, going through the motions, but we only got glimpses of the plant people’s internality, and so we really don’t have anything with which to sympathize. The show leans too heavily on that Us-Other divide to see the plants as anything but Others, and so like robots and aliens, there is no question of whether it is permissible for heroes to kill them.

But we’ve talked about this before. Increasingly, that’s the problem with Batman: these chapters are getting shorter and shorter, because we’ve talked about everything before. Batman says one thing in this episode that’s definitely true: that it’s time for him to stop being Batman and pass everything on. But even that is repetition for us–more and more over this volume, we’ve been talking about the necessity of the DCAU moving beyond Batman, because this is the volume where it happens, and so I’m laying the groundwork to explain the why before we get to the what.

But now the show knows it, too. The production staff already did, of course–by the time this episode was completed, they would have had to be well into the production of Batman Beyond. Animation lead times are enormous, after all. But I’m not talking about what the people making the show know; I’m talking about what the show knows–what truths it contains and can convey. It has finally admitted its own exhaustion, its own need to evolve into something…

…well, into something Other.


Current status of the Patreon:

Video Multipost: Jen and Susan React to Ducktales S1E3, Propaganda Cartoons 4, and She-Ra S1E8-9 vlog

The video posting swarm resumes! Here’s three:

First, y’all seemed to like the Ducktales reaction a lot, so here’s another!

 

 

And some more propaganda cartoons–hitting the Cold War now:

And a commission for Aleph Null:

Reminder that Patreon backers can request commissions, see these videos 4-5 weeks early, AND see Near-Apocalypse articles four MONTHS early! 

Retroactive Continuity: She-Ra S1E9-10

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

Mea culpa: I somehow managed to miss two weeks of updates, which means I owe y’all THREE NA09 chapters and AT LEAST three videos. I’m trying to queue them all up now: there’ll be NA09 posts today, Wednesday, and Friday, and multi-video posts Tuesday and Thursday.

Commissioned essay for AskJeeves.

Where, in terms of character development, episodes 7 and 8 focused on Adora dealing with the abuse she was subjected to by Shadow Weaver and the socialization she was denied, episodes 9 and 10 have a partial focus on Catra beginning to deal with her own abuse in her own way. Underneath this, of course, is the subtext that the end of Adora and Catra’s relationship is treated as just that–the end of a relationship in a bad breakup. That much was clear in “Princess Prom,” but “No Princess Left Behind” brings this practically into text when Catra gives Adora back her sword and says “This is not because I like you.”

Of course, by definition a denial is not textual confirmation, but in this case it comes very close because Catra has been consistently portrayed as a tsundere, a character archetype common in anime, manga, and video games. Typically, a tsundere has a prickly, tough, or hostile outer layer to their personality, but also show themselves capable of softness, vulnerability, and affection under rare circumstances, especially toward their love interest. The stereotypical tsundere action is to do something kind for their love interest while insisting that it’s “not because I like you or anything.”

That said, Catra has more depth to her than the archetypal tsundere. The archetype has that hard outer layer, but their core “true self” is kind and sweet; Catra’s isn’t. Catra is capable of more vulnerability and kindness than her outer persona reveals, and that definitely includes strong feelings–implied to be romantic–regarding Adora, but there are other feelings in there that she doesn’t show. Underneath her snark is genuine rage and pain; underneath her cool detachment is a fear of being perceived as weak.

Like Adora before her, Catra has a scene with Shadow Weaver in which the latter claims her abusive parenting was an effort to make her surrogate daughters strong, but Catra responds differently. Where Adora recognized that Shadow Weaver was lying, Catra accepts the claim as true, and demonstrates that strength (or at least, what Shadow Weaver seems to regard as strength, namely the capacity to hurt others) by saying that it worked, and she therefore no longer needs Shadow Weaver. Adora rejects her abuser, and escapes; Catra decides to overcome and destroy her abuser, and will remain trapped even after she essentially succeeds in later episodes.

Meanwhile, Adora’s team falls apart and Catra’s comes together, because the former abandons Entrapta and the latter embraces her. Of course the rebels think Entrapta died trying to rescue Emily, but they’d abandoned her repeatedly before that: they repeatedly treat her with disdain, dismissing her interests, ignoring her attempts to explain herself, and getting frustrated rather than making sure she understands the situation and helping her stay on task. Catra is, of course, acting in self-interest, but nonetheless she treats Entrapta better than they ever did, listening to her ideas and treating her with surprising patience and sensitivity–but then, “Princess Prom” already demonstrated that she is capable of both when she stands to gain something by it.

This is made easier, of course, by the fact that (as I discussed in regards to “System Failure”) Entrapta is essentially already a villainous character. Her interests and inclinations are more in line with the Horde–technology, power, little concern for any negative consequences to others–and so it is easier for the Horde to recognize and appreciate her talents. At the same time, had the rebels validated her a little more and recognized the potential positive applications of what she was doing, and not constantly left her behind throughout the mission in “No Princess Left Behind,” Catra’s lovebombing in “The Beacon” might not have been as effective.

Again, though, Catra is a tsundere. She may be manipulating Scorpia and Entrapta, but that impersonal distance she maintains is a facade. She isn’t faking that she’s impressed with Entrapta and wants her friendship, and she lets them both in on plans that she needs to keep secret from her superiors, demonstrating that she trusts them. What we have in the last few episodes of the season, in other words, is the formation of a rival team to the Adora/Glimmer/Bow trio, held together by the same bonds of trust and affection, but on the opposite side.

And as we saw back in “The Sword,” this is at least partially a magical girl series–which means those bonds are a force of unrivaled power. Catra may not realize it, but she has already put herself on an equal footing with Adora–and in the next episode, that rivalry will come to a head.


Current status of the Patreon:

There were three of us then (Girls’ Night Out)

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

It’s October 17, 1998. The top song is the Barenaked Ladies’ “One Week”; Monica, Aerosmith, Jennifer Paige, Faith Hill, and INOJ also chart, the last with a fantastic cover of “Time After Time.” The top movie is Practical Magic, and I recall rolling my eyes at trailers for it when I was 17, but honestly it sounds like something I’d have fun with now.

In the news, on the 12th 21-year-old Matthew Shepard was beaten and murdered in Wyoming, probably at least partially for being gay; 11 years later a federal law bearing his name will (after a decade of failed attempts) be passed, extending federal hate crime laws to include crimes motivated by gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, or disability; on the day this episode airs, an oil pipeline explodes in Nigeria, killing over 1000 people.

“Girls’ Night Out” is a fun episode. It features two great team-ups that sadly will never be seen again: Supergirl/Batgirl vs. Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy/Livewire. And those slashes are quite intentional on my part: this episode drips in shipper bait for those sets of characters: Harley and Ivy are again pictured living together and hanging out in very little clothing, and Harley is notably jealous when Ivy praises Livewire; meanwhile on the cape side, Supergirl looks at Batgirl with what can only be described as a melting expression at one point, and at the end of the episode they are hanging out in bathrobes and slippers, very clearly having a “sleepover.”

Supergirl gazes adoringly at Batgirl, who has her hand on Supergirl's shoulder

Get you a girl that looks at you like Supergirl looks at Batgirl

But there’s something slightly off about that final scene, too, something that points toward what holds this episode back from greatness: Supergirl and Batgirl, established, skilled superheroes who just took down three villains, each of whom individually posed a significant challenge to Batman or Superman, high-fiving in happiness because a formerly dismissive cop said they had “potential.” Taking down three of the deadliest women in the world isn’t potential, it’s actuality, and Supergirl and Batgirl ought to know that–but instead the entire episode is held back by the very 1990s notion that “girls can do just as well as boys” is a radically progressive statement deserving of kudos.

There’s a kind of episode that shows up in science fiction shows now and then–Star Trek: The Next Generation‘s “Lower Decks” and Babylon 5‘s “A View from the Gallery” are good examples–which do “a day in the life” of characters who would normally be single-line one-off characters or background extras, while the main cast are relegated to background status. The idea, more or less, is to show that these characters have inner lives too, that they are the protagonists of their own stories, and the results are generally, much like “Girls’ Night Out,” pretty entertaining.

But something about those episodes rankles too, and it’s baked into their very premise. For starters, it assumes that we need the reminder that these characters have inner lives–that if we weren’t explicitly told that, we might forget, which speaks poorly to at least one of the show’s ability to present rounded minor characters or the creators’ opinion of their audience. It also relegates this depiction to a single episode, signaling the choice to depict these characters’ perspective as remarkable, which is to say it reinforces the notion that these characters are Other while congratulating itself for acknowledging they exist. Given that the type of show notable for doing this sort of thing tends to follow officers and these episodes tend to focus on enlisted crew–a distinction which maps fairly neatly onto the class divide–there’s something more than faintly patronizing about these episodes.

And that’s what “Girls’ Night Out” is: it’s the New Batman/Superman Adventures equivalent to “Lower Decks”–characters who would not “normally” get their own episode do. See, we think women are people too! Why, they can even be main characters for one episode out of a couple hundred!

Again, this episode is fun–but it’s also a reminder of how few episodes of the DCAU center women as their main characters. So far, it’s really just been this, “Shadow of the Bat,” and arguably “Little Girl Lost,” and there won’t be that many in the future. In particular, there will never be a DCAU TV series about a woman; every one of them will center a male character or male-dominated team. (Yes, the robot counts as a man; we’ll get there.) Sure, there’ll be Gotham Girls, but that really just compounds the problem–when women do get a DCAU series, it’s a bunch of web shorts so obscure that I didn’t even know they existed until about a month before I started NA09.

In particular, it hurts to see Harley, the breaker of worlds, the one who summoned the Harlequinade and destroyed Krypton so that she and Ivy could be free, so easily defeated by champions of conventionality who have so much internalized sexism that they can cheer for the patronizing words of the same slob whose sexism Harley called out in her first appearance. But such is the nature of near-apocalypse: the world is broken and set free, but the superheroes will always be there to put it back as it was.


Current status of the Patreon:

Let’s Play and Vlog Reviews: Doki Doki Literature Club Part 6, My Hero Academia 3-4, and Ducktales S2E5-6!

The video posting swarm continues! Here’s three:

Some Let’s Play… well, I was going to say action, but it’s a visual novel, so.

Another commission for Benny Blue:

And a bonus video:

Reminder that Patreon backers can request commissions, see these videos 4-5 weeks early, AND see Near-Apocalypse articles four MONTHS early! 

Here before (Legends of the Dark Knight)

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

It’s still October 10, 1998, as The New Batman Adventures contributes its part of the block with “Legends of the Dark Knight,” a series of homages to takes on Batman from outside the DCAU, most notably Dick Sprang and Frank Miller, embedded within a frame story about a group of children arguing over their differing ideas of who Batman is and what he’s like.

The art style shifts–along with the fact that nowadays this episode is generally watched on DVD, Blu-Ray, or streaming–obscure something important in the episode’s structure, however, an unusual choice to not align the embedded stories with the act break. Both commercial breaks occur at cliffhanger moments in their respective embedded stories, which is not unusual–but after the breaks, we return immediately to the embedded story, which is. Most shows either time their act breaks to fall between embedded stories, or start the next act with a brief return to the frame story before continuing the embedded story, both for the same reason: people tend to change channels during commercial breaks, and they might not recognize the embedded story while channel-flipping.

This is one of two choices that jumps out as odd. The other is the incredibly mean-spirited caricature of Joel Schumacher as a child who appears briefly between the first and second story. Admittedly, as we’ve discussed, Schumacher’s Batman films are pretty mean-spirited in themselves, but that’s still no cause to depict him as a skinny, androgynous, mincing gay stereotype. Generalized misanthropy is one thing; homophobia is quite another.

Insofar as there is a reason for the character Joel to exist, it’s to reject the Schumacher take on Batman. The trio of kids we’ve followed reject that take unanimously, while the other three–Nick’s monstrous conception, Matt’s Golden-Age old chum, and Carrie’s dark, hulking bruiser–are each rejected by two of the children. Yet all three are not-uncommon interpretations of Batman. Nick’s is the Bat, the inner demon unleashed onto the outer world, Matt’s typical of Batman comics of the 1950s or the 1960s TV show, and Carrie’s is The Dark Knight Returns.

In other words, while the two embedded stories are homages to or pastiches of interpretations of Batman from outside the DCAU, the framing device is primarily about rejecting them. Like Joel, whose interest in Batman is depicted as superficial and precociously sexual, the three children we follow through the framing device misunderstand Batman because they each see only part of who he is–the frightening lurker in the shadows, the protector, the violent vigilante. Even after seeing Batman, they argue, because each sees only the aspects of him that they described.

It is the frame that makes the art. (More precisely, art is that which is presented as art by an artist to an art-public; the framing is where the “presented as” happens.) Each of the two segments is a homage or a pastiche if taken as an isolated unit–especially the Miller-influenced one, much of which is a near-verbatim recreation of part of The Dark Knight Returns–but neither actually is an isolated unit. Both are emboited within, and therefore transformed by, the frame story; the rejection is part of the homage. Much like Animaniacs before it–and remember, many of the same people worked on both–the show is acknowledging its forebears while declaring itself to have moved beyond them. The DCAU Batman is the complete one, the true Batman of whom all these others are only partial reflections, imperfect copies. Batman-as-monster ignores his humanity; the friendly neighborhood Batman ignores his darkness; the murderhobo Batman ignores his light.

By contrast, this episode argues, the DCAU Batman is the Batman, the complete Batman. He wears and wields the Bat, but there is a man within, not a monster. He is a highly capable hand-to-hand combatant, but he also makes quips and uses gadgets. He will act to protect children, but he’ll also leave an arsonist hanging off the side of a burning building, at serious risk of death if fire-and-rescue and the police don’t arrive quickly. He is a figure in the shadows, ambiguous, amorphous, difficult to entirely pin down, flitting about the edges of the narrative until it is time to insert himself surgically into it. (The one gem of truth in the Miller pastiche–this is an operating table, and Batman’s the surgeon. It’s the nature of the patient that Carrie/Miller gets wrong.)

It is a bold move. This episode declares the DCAU interpretation of Batman to be the definitive take, the best of all worlds. All the evolution of the character over the decades, all the shifts in perspective as times and tastes and writers changed, distilled down to a Bruce Timm design and Kevin Conroy’s voice. It isn’t the first time they’ve implied this–Gotham’s anachronisms have always implied a distillation of the eras–but it is the loudest and clearest. And they’re not wrong.

Which is yet another reason to replace him.


Current status of the Patreon:

Retroactive Continuity: Animosity vol. 2

Near Apocalpyse of '09 Logo

And we’re back! Sorry for the lengthy absence; this was a hell of a summer, but everything should be smooth from here!

Commissioned essay for Shane DeNota-Hoffman

Where Animosity vol. 1 was about establishing animals as an oppressed but rising underclass, vol. 2 is much more about showing us the various ways in which humans and animals have adapted (or failed to adapt) to the new reality that, whatever form civilization is to take, it will necessarily contain both. Nowhere is this more clear than the lengthy guide at the back of the book that describes what is happening in all the states of the U.S. and DC, as well as many other countries around the world. The highlights here are the “horse lords” of Kansas, a ruthless regime ruled by a triumvirate of horses that dominates the state and is beginning to expand into neighboring states; the beloved elephant matriarch who rules much of North Africa in a seemingly benign, utopian dictatorship maintained by a secret alliance with mosquitoes that spread malaria to her enemies; the Mad Max biker gangs that rule Ethiopia, led by a hyena matriarch in a blood feud with the elephant; and the penguin microkingdoms that squabble over control of Antarctica.

All of these are postapocalyptic scenarios in which oppressed people claim power for themselves, which of course is the core concept of our equation of apocalypse and revolution. At the same time, they all show the core problem: to claim power is to become the oppressor. The horse lords create a traditional empire; the elephant something more utopian and the hyena something less organized, but they all end up creating regimes maintained through violence. The penguins fragment into many tiny kingdoms, but a kingdom is still a kingdom, maintained through coercive violence whether it governs a hundred people or a million.

Other scenarios abound. There are places where humans scheme to undo the Wake, which is in essence genocide against animals, and places where animals scheme genocide against humans; places where humans have driven out all animals and now face starvation; places where humans and animals work together to try to understand what’s happened; places where animals rule, or humans rule, or humans and animals cooperate.

All have their flaws, even cooperation.

Most obvious are the flaws in the human-animal cooperation that is the “dragon” cult Jesse and Sandor encounter in teh first couple of chapters of this volume. Humans in animal skins and animals in human skins, working together to devour any animal or human that enters their territory, led by a giant red acid-spitting vulture. It’s undeniably weird, and extremely comic-book-y, but it’s also readable as oppressor and oppressed teaming up–but only to declare themselves a new hegemonic power and begin literally feeding on every outsider they meet. The most prominent example of this in real life is probably large religious organizations of that invite people of many races to join–but as part of an Us that defines itself oppositionally to a Them, or a grand narrative that demands adherents try to assimilate all others into the group.

This then prepares us for the contrast of the more ecumenical group at the waterfall in Virginia. This group is friendly, open, and cooperative, inviting humans and animals alike to gather, rest, and discuss philosophy, religion, and news of what’s happening elsewhere in the world. At the same time, though, the leader is gently but unwaveringly insistent on his own religious interpretation rooted in Christian texts, reminding us that while “ecumenical” is frequently used as if it describes a cooperative venture of people of many different beliefs and worldviews, its dictionary definition refers to cooperation between multiple Christian churches, and in practice it generally means “multiple kinds of Protestants and maybe some Catholics if we’re feeling generous.” There is no violence here that we see, but there are still norms, still demands for a curretn kind of behavior and, even more, a certain kind of person.

Even given apocalypse and a chance to do better, are we doomed to keep making the same mistakes over and over?


Current status of the Patreon: