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House GOP Probes DOJ On Possible Retaliation Against Hunter Biden Whistleblowers

Our Top 10 Gary Moore Songs list showcases the talent of one of the most exceptional rock and roll guitarists to have ever performed on stage. Gary Moore is often overlooked in discussions about the top guitarists‚ which is regrettable. For those familiar with his music‚ it’s clear that he was one of the most dynamic and brilliant guitarists to have ever lived‚ combining Eric Clapton’s magnificent technique with the soul and spirit of Stevie Ray Vaughan. Gary Moore embarked on his solo career in the late 1970s after playing with various bands and honing his skills over the years. The post Top 10 Gary Moore songs appeared first on ClassicRockHistory.com.

On an island off the coast of an island‚ a local grocer’s big error turned into a successful national charity event. Dan Dafydd wanted 80 chocolate Easter eggs for the shelves at Sinclair General Stores on Sanday‚ one of the Orkney Islands‚ but accidentally ordered 80 cases of Easter eggs‚ totaling 720 confectionaries for a […] The post Small Town Grocer’s Easter Egg Mistake is Turned into Inspiring National Charity Drive Raising Thousands appeared first on Good News Network.

Featured Essays Locus Is an Essential Resource for Authors and Fans — Now’s Your Chance to Give Back Locus Magazine plays a vital role within the SFF community; let’s show up and support their work. By Cadwell Turnbull | Published on April 2‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed My first interaction with Locus was during my time at Clarion West‚ attending the Locus Awards in 2016. A lot of my peers knew how important Locus was to the community. Truthfully‚ I didn’t. I might have had a vague awareness of the significance‚ but mostly I was an aspiring writer‚ unpublished‚ and awestruck at all the authors I was sharing space with at the awards show. I wish I could say that I corrected my ignorance right away. When my debut novel The Lesson came out‚ it was reviewed by Locus. Not once‚ but twice! Arley Sorg also reached out to do a feature on me. It was the first issue of the magazine I ever received‚ and I flipped through to see the full-page spread‚ delighted‚ flabbergasted‚ and cringing a little at my choice of wardrobe for the photo. After the emotions settled‚ I flipped through the rest of the book‚ reading other articles. That’s when I really realized just how essential Locus was to the community. It wasn’t just the awards‚ reviews‚ or the interviews. It wasn’t the public interest stories or coverage of conventions. That’s just the stuff. The whole is much greater than those parts. Locus is the beating heart of a rapidly growing and shifting speculative fiction community. To keep up‚ to give context‚ to offer insight into this genre is nothing short of herculean. And Locus does all this with just a small team of passionate people who love and value the work. I’ve been lucky enough to get all three of my novels reviewed by Locus‚ and I’ve been extra fortunate to make Locus‘ Recommended Reading List‚ surprised each time by being considered and blown away by the company I was in. But I literally can’t put into words how I felt when Many Worlds‚ or The Simulacra‚ an anthology co-edited by Josh Eure and myself‚ was reviewed by Locus. Many Worlds is a project I’ve poured my heart into‚ an experiment in creating solidarity through shared worlds‚ shared authorship‚ and shared creative governance. In 2020‚ I started the collective. By 2023‚ we were on our way to publishing our first anthology with Radix Media‚ a small cooperative print shop and publisher. An author collective is a strange beast. An author collective with a shared multiverse anthology published by a small co-op is stranger still‚ certainly not easy to explain with a simple pitch. I was hopeful‚ but I was also preparing for the possibility that no one would take much interest in this passion project. Locus showed up for us. The magazine gave the anthology an absolutely lovely review‚ a review that recognized the cooperative spirit of the project. “Writ­ing for this anthology wasn’t only collaborating on a shared world but also sharing profits and resources‚” wrote Alex Brown. “In other words‚ writing as community. Do they pull it off? Yes. Pretty well‚ in fact.” I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Every year several speculative institutions shut their doors because of labor challenges or economic precarity. Locus has stuck around. You can read many of their essays‚ interviews‚ updates‚ and reviews online. That coverage is worth so much more than a subscription‚ and yet Locus has remained dedicated to making their work accessible. Coverage of the arts requires labor. That labor should be sustaining for those who do it. And we‚ the community that benefits from that coverage‚ have to follow through on our end when we can. Any little bit goes a long way to keeping these institutions alive in a time when this sort of work is increasingly devalued. Currently Locus is in their final days of fundraising for the next year. They still have a long way to go before they reach their goal. I am grateful for all the time and energy Locus has put into recognizing my work. I know many writers feel the same way. Locus shows up. They’ve been doing this for a long time and they’re still here‚ grinding on all our behalf. It is critical that we help them get where they need to be.[end-mark] The post <;i>;Locus<;/i>; Is an Essential Resource for Authors and Fans — Now’s Your Chance to Give Back appeared first on Reactor.

News Boy Kills World Red Band Trailer for Boy Kills World Emphasizes Film’s Violently Bonkers Vibe “R-rated Looney Tunes on acid” is the review they chose to highlight By Vanessa Armstrong | Published on April 2‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed As I said in our post for the first trailer of Boy Kills World‚ the movie starring Bill SkarsgÃ¥rd as a deaf mute killing machine with an inner voice narrated by Bob’s Burgers H. Jon Benjamin‚ looks like it will be either completely terrible or a cinematic masterpiece. The second red band trailer for the film makes a strong case that it falls in the latter camp. Yes‚ we see SkarsgÃ¥rd’s “Boy” murder in various violent and sometimes funny ways‚ but we also get several critics’ comments weaved in between kill scenes‚ which suggests that this movie might be something special. Those comments include: “Totally unhinged‚” “A kill fest‚” “Gleeful lunacy‚” and “R-rated Looney Tunes on acid.” Granted these are cherry-picked quotes from the film’s marketing team‚ but even if the rest of these reviews are bashing the film (and they’re not)‚ I can’t help but want to watch something described as Looney Tunes on acid‚ and R-rated‚ no less! In addition to SkarsgÃ¥rd and Benjamin‚ Boy Kills World stars Jessica Rothe‚ Michelle Dockery‚ Brett Gelman‚ Isaiah Mustafa‚ Yayan Ruhian‚ with Andrew Koji‚ Sharlto Copley‚ and Famke Janssen. It’s produced by Sam Rami‚ directed by Moritz Mohr‚ and written by Tyler Burton Smith‚ and Arend Remmers. Here’s the official synopsis: SkarsgÃ¥rd stars as “Boy” who vows revenge after his family is murdered by Hilda Van Der Koy (Janssen)‚ the deranged matriarch of a corrupt post-apocalyptic dynasty that left the boy orphaned‚ deaf and voiceless. Driven by his inner voice‚ one which he co-opted from his favorite childhood video game‚ Boy trains with a mysterious shaman (Ruhian) to become an instrument of death and is set loose on the eve of the annual culling of dissidents. Bedlam ensues as Boy commits bloody martial arts mayhem‚ inciting a wrath of carnage and blood-letting. As he tries to get his bearings in this delirious realm‚ Boy soon falls in with a desperate resistance group‚ all the while bickering with the apparent ghost of his rebellious little sister. Boy Kills World premieres in theaters on April 26‚ 2024. Check out the latest trailer below. [end-mark] The post Red Band Trailer for <;i>;Boy Kills World<;/i>; Emphasizes Film’s Violently Bonkers Vibe appeared first on Reactor.

Book Recommendations new releases All the New Science Fiction Books Arriving in April! Visit a divided colony ship‚ a war-torn galaxy‚ a “perfect” town‚ and more in this month’s new sci-fi titles By Reactor | Published on April 2‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed Here’s the full list of the science fiction titles heading your way in April! Keep track of all the new SFF releases here. All title summaries are taken and/or summarized from copy provided by the publisher. Release dates are subject to change. April 2 Four Minutes — Brian Andrews &; Jeffrey Wilson (Blackstone)Special Operations Chief Tyler Brooks might not know quantum mechanics‚ or have an eidetic memory‚ but he is the very best in the world at one thing: leading covert ops. When an unpredictable enemy causes the catastrophic loss of his entire SEAL team‚ Brooks is recruited by Pat Moody to lead a new elite squad‚ Task Force Omega. Moody’s promise—access to mind-bending tech that grants a glimpse of the future. Together with Navy Intelligence Specialist Zee Williams‚ Brooks leads a new kind of counterterrorism task force‚ one that collects intel from the future to stop attacks in the present. But there’s a catch. Each mission can only last FOUR MINUTES. Stakes quickly escalate when Omega discovers an unprecedented future attack against America threatening the lives of millions—including Tyler’s daughter. Despite their prescient advantage‚ Brooks and Williams find themselves thwarted at every turn as they try to stop the plot. To make matters worse‚ they have somehow gone from hunter to hunted‚ targeted by an unknown enemy hidden in the shadows. With the country on the brink of nuclear war‚ Tyler’s daughter in mortal danger‚ and a commanding officer they’re not sure they can trust‚ Omega Team faces a terrible dilemma: Even if you know the future‚ is FOUR MINUTES enough time to change it? Calypso — Oliver K. Langmead (Titan)Rochelle wakes from cryostasis to take up her role as engineer on the colony ark‚ Calypso. But she finds the ship has transformed into a forest‚ populated by the original crew’s descendants‚ who revere her like a saint. She travels the ship with the Calypso’s creator‚ the enigmatic Sigmund‚ and Catherine‚ a bioengineered marvel who can commune with the plants‚ uncovering a new history of humanity forged while she slept. She discovers a legacy of war between botanists and engineers. A war fought for the right to build a new Earth—a technological paradise‚ or a new Eden in bloom‚ untouched by mankind’s past. And Rochelle‚ the last to wake‚ holds the balance of power in her hands. A View From the Stars — Cixin Liu (Tor Books)A View From the Stars features a range of short works from the past three decades of New York Times bestselling author Cixin Liu’s prolific career‚ putting his nonfiction essays and short stories side-by-side for the first time. This collection includes essays and interviews that shed light on Liu’s experiences as a reader‚ writer‚ and lover of science fiction throughout his life‚ as well as short fiction that gives glimpses into the evolution of his imaginative voice over the years. Disquiet Gods (The Sun Eater #6) – Christopher Ruocchio (Baen)The end is nigh. It has been nearly two hundred years since Hadrian Marlowe assaulted the person of the Emperor and walked away from war. From his Empire. His duty. From the will and service of the eldritch being known only as the Quiet. The galaxy lies in the grip of a terrible plague‚ and worse‚ the Cielcin have overrun the realms of men. A messenger has come to Jadd‚ bearing a summons from the Sollan Emperor for the one-time hero. A summons‚ a pardon‚ and a plea. HAPSIS‚ the Emperor’s secret first-contact intelligence organization‚ has located one of the dreadful Watchers‚ the immense‚ powerful beings worshipped by the Pale Cielcin. Called out of retirement and exile‚ the old hero—accompanied by his daughter‚ Cassandra—must race across the galaxy and against time to accomplish one last‚ impossible task: To kill a god.The end is nigh. It has been nearly two hundred years since Hadrian Marlowe assaulted the person of the Emperor and walked away from war. From his Empire. His duty. From the will and service of the eldritch being known only as the Quiet. The galaxy lies in the grip of a terrible plague‚ and worse‚ the Cielcin have overrun the realms of men. A messenger has come to Jadd‚ bearing a summons from the Sollan Emperor for the one-time hero. A summons‚ a pardon‚ and a plea. HAPSIS‚ the Emperor’s secret first-contact intelligence organization‚ has located one of the dreadful Watchers‚ the immense‚ powerful beings worshipped by the Pale Cielcin. Called out of retirement and exile‚ the old hero—accompanied by his daughter‚ Cassandra—must race across the galaxy and against time to accomplish one last‚ impossible task: To kill a god. Toll of Honor (Honorverse) — David Weber (Baen)Lieutenant Brandy Bolgeo has come home from the Battle of Hancock station wounded in both body and spirit. She will need months to regenerate her lost leg‚ but how long will it take to heal her heart? She’s come home to find that her wounds‚ her ship’s brutal damage‚ the deaths of so many friends‚ were the fault of an arrogant‚ aristocratic coward who broke and ran in the face of the enemy. Who left her ship to pay the price for his craven desertion under fire. And whose powerful political allies are determined to protect and preserve him at any price. April 9 Mal Goes to War — Edward Ashton (St. Martin’s)The humans are fighting again. Go figure. As a free A.I.‚ Mal finds the war between the modded and augmented Federals and the puritanical Humanists about as interesting as a battle between rival anthills. He’s not above scouting the battlefield for salvage‚ though‚ and when the Humanists abruptly cut off access to infospace he finds himself trapped in the body of a cyborg mercenary‚ and responsible for the safety of the modded girl she died protecting. A Better World — Sarah Langan (Atria)You’ll be safe here. That’s what the tour guide tells the Farmer-Bowens when they visit Plymouth Valley‚ a walled-off company town with clean air‚ pantries that never go empty‚ and blue-ribbon schools. On a very trial basis‚ the company offers to hire Linda Farmer’s hus­band‚ Russell‚ a numbers genius‚ and relocate her whole family to this bucolic paradise for the .0001 percent. Though Linda will have to sacrifice her medical career back home‚ the family jumps at the opportunity. They’d be crazy not to take it. With the outside world falling apart‚ this might be the Farmer-Bowens’ last chance. But fitting in takes work. The pampered locals distrust outsiders‚ snubbing Linda‚ Russell‚ and their teen twins. And the residents fervently adhere to a group of customs and beliefs called Hollow… but what exactly is Hollow? It’s Linda who brokers acceptance‚ by volunteering her medical skills to the most influential people in town through their pet charity‚ ActHollow. In the months afterward‚ everything seems fine. Sure‚ Russell starts hyper­ventilating through a paper bag in the middle of the night‚ and the kids have become secretive‚ but living in Plymouth Valley is worth sacrificing their family’s closeness‚ isn’t it? At least they’ll survive. The trouble is‚ the locals never say what they think. They seem scared. And Hollow’s ominous culminating event‚ the Plymouth Valley Winter Festival‚ is coming. Linda is warned by her husband and her powerful new friends to stop asking questions. But the more she learns‚ the more frightened she becomes. Should the Farmer-Bowens be fighting to stay‚ or fighting to get out? Star Wars: The Living Force — John Jackson Miller (Random House Worlds)The Jedi have always traveled the stars‚ defending peace and justice across the galaxy. But the galaxy is changing‚ and the Jedi Order along with it. More and more‚ the Order finds itself focused on the future of the Republic‚ secluded on Coruscant‚ where the twelve members of the Jedi Council weigh crises on a galactic scale. As yet another Jedi Outpost left over from the Republic’s golden age is set to be decommissioned on the planet Kwenn‚ Qui-Gon Jinn challenges the Council about the Order’s increasing isolation. Mace Windu suggests a bold response: All twelve Jedi Masters will embark on a goodwill mission to help the planet and to remind the people of the galaxy that the Jedi remain as stalwart and present as they have been across the ages. But the arrival of the Jedi leadership is not seen by all as a cause for celebration. In the increasing absence of the Jedi‚ warring pirate factions have infested the sector. To maintain their dominance‚ the pirates unite‚ intent on assassinating the Council members. And they are willing to destroy countless innocent lives to secure their power. Cut off from Coruscant‚ the Jedi Masters must reckon with an unwelcome truth: While no one thinks more about the future than the Jedi Council‚ nobody needs their help more than those living in the present. April 23 Ocean’s Godori — Elaine U. Cho (Zando – Hillman Grad)Ocean Yoon has never felt very Korean‚ even if she is descended from a long line of haenyeo‚ Jeju Island’s beloved female divers. She doesn’t like soju‚ constantly misses cultural references‚ and despite her love of the game‚ people still say that she doesn’t play Hwatu like a Korean. Ocean’s also persona non grata at the Alliance‚ Korea’s solar system–dominating space agency‚ since a mission went awry and she earned a reputation for being a little too quick with her gun. When her best friend‚ Teo‚ second son of the Anand Tech empire‚ is framed for murdering his family‚ Ocean and her misfit crewmates are pushed to the forefront of a high-stakes ideological conflict. But dodging bullets and winning space chases may be the easiest part of what comes next. The post All the New Science Fiction Books Arriving in April! appeared first on Reactor.

Excerpts Horror Read an Excerpt From Hildur Knútsdóttir’s The Night Guest An eerie and ensnaring horror novel set in contemporary Reykjavík. By Hildur Knútsdóttir | Published on April 2‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Hildur Knútsdóttir’s The Night Guest‚ a horror novel translated from Icelandic by Mary Robinette Kowal—publishing with Nightfire on September 3rd. Iðunn is in yet another doctor’s office. She knows her constant fatigue is a sign that something’s not right‚ but practitioners dismiss her symptoms and blood tests haven’t revealed any cause.When she talks to friends and family about it‚ the refrain is the same—have you tried eating better? exercising more? establishing a nighttime routine? She tries to follow their advice‚ buying everything from vitamins to sleeping pills to a step-counting watch. Nothing helps.Until one night Iðunn falls asleep with the watch on‚ and wakes up to find she’s walked over 40‚000 steps in the night…What is happening when she’s asleep? Why is she waking up with increasingly disturbing injuries? And why won’t anyone believe her? 1 “Can you describe your symptoms?” I clear my throat. “I’m just so… tired all the time.” “Not sleeping well?” “No‚ no. I fall asleep and even sleep through the night. But when I wake up‚ I feel exhausted. My legs‚ my arms…” As if they were evidence‚ I extend both arms. My hands dangle limply‚ and I have the bizarre impulse to shake them in the doctor’s face. But she nods. When I lower them‚ they drop into my lap like dead pieces of meat. “I don’t feel like I’m waking up rested but more like I’ve been out on a rampage all night. My muscles are worn out. Not soreness like after working out‚ but sort of like when you’ve been slogging away at something and can tell that the next day you’re going to really feel it‚ you know?” “And it’s only in the arms and legs?” “Not only‚ but mostly there. I’m tired all over. Even my jaw.” The doctor nods again. I like her. She’s probably ten years younger than I am. If I had to guess‚ I’d say she probably hasn’t finished her residency yet. Which means she’s being very thorough. She will not let acute lymphocytic leukemia or some horrific neurological disease slip past her. She’s going to check out every possibility. Which is precisely what I want and what the previous doctor the health center assigned me to—some old‚ gray-haired prick— refused to do. That guy had clearly had enough of women with unexplained symptoms. Hysterical women. I seriously wanted to lecture him about all the diseases women have had that have been misdiagnosed over the years— and how medication (not to mention everything else in this world) is designed for the male body—but I just didn’t have the energy for it. Or maybe I was chicken. Or maybe that’s the same thing because it’s a lot easier to gather your courage when you’re not dead tired. When I left the prick’s office with orders to go home and “take it easy” for two weeks (he didn’t even suggest seeing a therapist‚ probably because he’s too old to believe in psychology)‚ I made a beeline for the health center’s reception desk and asked for an appointment with a female doctor. “Someone young‚” I said. The receptionist looked at me like I was off my rocker but still gave me an appointment with this new doctor. Buy the Book The Night GuestHildur Knútsdóttir Hildur Knútsdóttir Buy Book icon-close The Night GuestHildur Knútsdóttir Hildur Knútsdóttir Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget Her name is Ásdís‚ and she has blond hair and two pimples on her chin that she’s done her best to cover with concealer. “Has this been going on for a long time?” “A while‚ yeah. And getting worse.” “Have you had the flu recently? Any kind of cold?” “No.” “Have you been under a lot of stress lately?” I think about Stefán and how he had hissed at me that I was a bitch right before slamming the door in my face. How I had trembled like a twig in the wind and hadn’t been able to bring myself to move for over an hour after he left. “No.” Stefán is a lousy guy‚ but I’d be giving him way too much credit if I blamed this on him. “Do you eat a variety of foods?” “Yes. I’m a vegetarian‚ but that’s not new. And I take B12‚ omega-3‚ and iron.” She glances at the computer screen. “I see you had blood work done six months ago. Everything looks good there. But we’ll run it again.” Ásdís turns back to me with her full attention. She wears an expression that is at once concerned and kind. “With what I have here‚ I don’t see anything to indicate a serious condition. Not based on your history or my examination. So‚ tell me‚ what are you concerned about?” A sensation begins to stir in my belly. Warm and soft. And I realize that I’m weirdly proud of her. Ásdís is going to be a truly wonderful doctor. For a moment‚ I feel as though I am her mother (Christ)‚ or maybe a grandma (Christ! )‚ who watched her grow up through childhood and then become an unbearable teenager who blossomed into an intelligent woman who attended medical school and now speaks to her patients with respect and genuine concern. I almost tear up. And then‚ I remember the fear that had overcome me as I sat and googled my symptoms. “Myasthenia gravis‚” I blurt. “Or…” I hesitate. Then I speak the acronym that’s been haunting me over the past few days. “ALS.” Ásdís nods. I begin to sweat. Recently‚ I’ve been almost entirely convinced that I’m doomed to this future: experiencing my nervous system’s gradual failure. I’ve wondered how it might feel when parts of my body stop working‚ one after the other. Maybe it starts with numbness in my fingertips. Then I lose control of my hands‚ followed by my arms. Then my feet. Then I’ll lose all sensation below the waist. Stop being able to turn my head‚ speak‚ smile‚ blink my eyes. Maybe I’ll learn to hold a brush with my mouth and paint a few pictures. Then my respiratory system will stop working‚ and I’ll die. Ásdís cocks her head. “I don’t want to sound dismissive of your experience‚ but I have to say that it strikes me as… an extremely unlikely diagnosis.” Relief washes over me like the sea. “Really?” “Yes.” “So‚ you don’t think I’ve got some terrifying neurological disease?” I ask‚ just to hear her say it one more time. “No. Of course‚ I can’t rule it out‚ but I don’t see anything to indicate it.” Another wave of elation. Then I remember what I was going to show her. “What about leukemia?” I stand up and tug my pants down‚ showing her the large bruise on my hip that had appeared overnight. “Don’t you think it looks a little like spotting?” Ásdís puts on gloves. She aims the tabletop lamp at me and leans over my hip. She runs her fingers over the bruise‚ so close that I can feel her warm breath moving the fine hairs on my skin. My god‚ she’s doing a thorough job. It crosses my mind that I might be in love with her‚ which is a little ridiculous. “Did you bump into something?” she asks. “No‚ I woke up like this.” The bruise is the size of a little pancake. Ásdís sits up and points the lamp back at the desk. I pull up my pants and take a seat. “This appears to be a standard hematoma. But I’ll add a white blood cell count to your blood work. And we’ll look at your iron levels‚ of course.” Ásdís stands up. The examination has come to an end. She extends her hand‚ her grasp firm and professional. She’s taller than I am‚ and yet I have this urge to pat her on the head or the cheek. I restrain myself. Instead‚ I thank her and leave. When I get home‚ Mávur is curled up on the porch in front of the door. The cat stands when he spots me‚ his tail rising with pleasure. I scratch him behind the ears‚ and he responds with a loud purr. He often tries to sneak in‚ but I know his tricks and am quick to shut the door behind me. By the time the latch catches‚ he has already lain back down‚ his eyelids drooping in the sunshine. I know that the world’s sorrows are both abundant and profound and that a cat allergy is perhaps insignificant in the larger scheme of things. But there is something so unfair about loving cats and being relegated to do so from a distance. 2 Three days later‚ I receive a text saying that I have a message from the health center waiting for me. I open the medical portal and am asked to log in with my electronic ID. Like every Icelander‚ I have my kennitala‚ of course‚ but I’d never linked my national ID number with an online account. So I don’t have an electronic ID. Someone—I don’t remember who—told me they were just a plot to force all Icelanders into a monopoly with a cousin of some Progressive Party big shot in perpetuity. Or was it the Independence Party? And the banks seem to be in on it‚ too‚ because they provide the ID numbers. When you think about it‚ it’s a little odd that banks generate our government IDs‚ but that’s commonplace Icelandic corruption for you. I call the health center and request the results by phone. The woman who answers at the front desk says it’s not available. She says it in an offensively cheerful tone. I grumble at her‚ but she just gets cheerier. During my lunch break‚ I go to the bank. All the muscles in my thighs ache when I walk up the stairs. I feel like I’ve been on a treadmill all night. (For the record‚ I have never used a treadmill.) Two women are standing in the lobby of the bank and welcome me. I notice that there is only one cashier but at least four employees who seem to be working on linking kennitalas with electronic ID accounts. It’s easier to get one than I expected. The man who helps me makes me sign some papers that I’m too tired to bother reading. He’s the officious sort who wants to cover his ass by making it “quite clear” that page three states that the service is free now but that he cannot rule out the possibility that it will have a fee later. “Yes‚ I know everything about the Progressive Party‚” I say‚ though‚ of course that’s not true. He gives me a weird look. Maybe it was the Independence Party‚ after all. But I mean‚ really‚ what’s the difference? The first thing I do when I get back to work is to log into the health center. There’s a message from Ásdís María Ómarsdóttir waiting for me. I feel warm inside just seeing her name. Then I take a deep breath and open the mail from her. All the blood tests came out well. All results normal. I stare at the message for a long time. When the letters start to blur‚ I realize that I’m—damn it—crying. I sniff‚ wipe my cheeks‚ and glance around me. Fortunately‚ almost everyone is still at lunch‚ and no one seems to have noticed anything. I get to my feet‚ go to the toilet‚ and clean myself up. The lump in my throat swells. Staring at my reflection above the sink‚ I tell myself not to cry. It’s not that I was hoping I was sick. Except maybe I was just hoping for  something. Not ALS—never ALS—and not myasthenia gravis. But maybe something innocent. Iron deficiency‚ iodine deficiency‚ arthritis‚ some manageable metabolic disease‚ B12 deficiency—or perhaps a little hypoactive thyroid. Was that too much to ask? Because there is nothing worse than having unexplained symptoms. Feeling like there’s something terribly wrong—but nothing that can be measured in exams‚ and you know the doctor thinks it’s all in your head. I stare at my reflection‚ reminding myself‚ of course‚ that it could be much worse. The tests came out well. I should not be disappointed. I should feel relieved. “You should be happy‚” I hiss at the mirror. And to my surprise‚ the trace of a malicious grin twists the side of my mouth. “I’m not hysterical‚” I tell my reflection. She nods. 3 I increase my vitamin dose. Also‚ buy vitamin D. And calcium and something called spirulina that the girl in the pharmacy recommends. Then I google and read that spirulina can contain large amounts of heavy metals‚ so I throw it in the trash. My conscience twinges about throwing it in the trash (The heavy metals‚ where do they go? Landfills? Maybe into the groundwater?)‚ but I don’t do anything about it. I go to the bar with my friends after work. They say I need to be more active. “That’s how you get energy! Not by lounging on the couch! I could explode after I ran ten kilometers! I felt like I could conquer the world‚” says Ásta. She’s the CEO of a large company and has three children. She probably often feels like she can conquer the world. “Go to yoga‚” says Linda. “You just have to relax. Don’t you have too much to do at work? And you have tried essential oils?” “Why don’t you just go eat some meat? We’re not meant to live on vegetables alone‚ you know‚” says María‚ and takes a sip of white wine. Looking grave‚ they all nod. “But we don’t have true canines‚” I point out. They stare at me over their wineglasses. “Carnivores all have canines.” They glance at each other‚ not sure what to do with me‚ and an embarrassing silence stretches between us. This always happens. Everyone will be having a good chat until I say something wrong and feel as though I’ve been exposed as the alien in the group. Ta-da! Did you think I was one of you? Hahaha! I don’t know if it’s because they’re all the same age— two years older than I am—or because I joined their group late. Maybe it’s something different and more profound. I don’t remember whether I’ve always felt this way or if the feeling has gradually worsened. “I know it sounds like the name of a cartoon character‚” says Helga. “But Zumba literally saved my life after pregnancy.” I take a big sip of red wine (rich in iron). “Try walking more‚” says Sigrún. “I read somewhere that walking is—by far—the healthiest exercise. You just need to walk ten thousand steps a day!” “What happened there?” Ásta points to the bruise on my chest. I had specifically chosen a shirt that would cover it. But now I look down and see that as I bend forward‚ my neckline is gaping‚ and the bruise is visible. It’s a tiger stripe of dark purple. I straighten and pull my collar up. “Nothing.” Which is technically true. They look at each other with worry wrinkles between their eyebrows. Ta-da! Unmasked again! Helga places a palm over my hand. “Was that Stefán?” “No.” I laugh. “You know you can tell us anything‚” she says understandingly. Their nods are full of grave disbelief. I take another sip of red wine. Two minutes of “happy hour” are left when I finish my drink. At the bar‚ I see a man. He’s wearing a pale pink shirt (confident about his masculinity) and a blue‚ well-fitting jacket‚ and he’s staring at me like he’s seen a ghost. I get embarrassed and look down at the drink list. When I look up again‚ he has half-turned away from me and is waving a credit card over a beer that the waiter is handing to him. Then he looks back at me. I’m trying to decide if I should smile politely or pretend not to see him‚ but I haven’t figured out what to do when he turns away and walks with his beer to a nearby table. Around it‚ well-dressed men sit‚ stretched out in low chairs (why do men always have to take up so much space?) and laughing. Excerpted from The Night Guest‚ copyright © 2024 by Hildur Knútsdóttir. The post Read an Excerpt From Hildur Knútsdóttir’s <;em>;The Night Guest<;/em>; appeared first on Reactor.

Ronna Romney McDaniel was with MSNBC for just four days. Sharing airwaves with the former Republican National Committee chairwoman was more than her colleagues could bear. They curled their lips‚ as if she had the cooties. “It goes without saying that she will not be a guest on ‘Morning Joe’ in her capacity as a paid contributor‚” Mika Brzezinski huffed. Rachel Maddow snarled‚ “I find the decision to put her on the payroll inexplicable.” After McDaniel’s only appearance as a contributor‚ Chuck Todd growled at “Meet the Press” host Kristen Welker: “I think our bosses owe you an apology for putting you in this situation.” MSNBC’s anchors gave their brass the bird‚ turned them into plucked peacocks‚ and tossed them into the Potomac. The emasculated executives soon took on water. “No organization‚ particularly a newsroom‚ can succeed unless it is cohesive and aligned‚” gasped NBCUniversal’s Cesar Conde‚ extolling groupthink rather than intellectual diversity. “I want to personally apologize to our team members who felt we let them down‚” Conde gurgled‚ just before he sank into the river. MSNBC’s mutiny was the newsroom equivalent of what too often befalls conservative speakers on college campuses. “Cancel him!” “Boot her!” “SHUT UP!” The only thing missing at MSNBC was a mob of black-clad bookers breaking cameras and setting makeup rooms ablaze. As a news organization‚ MSNBC botched a perfect opportunity. Several times each week‚ in an election year‚ its hosts could have put cameras in McDaniel’s face and asked her tough questions on live TV: “Trump faces almost 90 criminal charges. Wouldn’t just one conviction disqualify him among millions of voters?” “Trump’s black support stood at 23% in a March 3 CBS News/YouGov poll. That nearly doubles his 12% in 2020. Why won’t he campaign in black neighborhoods?” “How will Trump narrow Biden’s widening fundraising advantage?” Why focus solely on Trump? MSNBC could have grilled McDaniel like a salmon across GOP-related topics: “Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene‚ R-Ga.‚ wants House Speaker Mike Johnson‚ R-La.‚ to stand down. Do you agree?” “Why did Republicans reverse their 13-year-long ban on earmarks and recently approve a 1‚102-page‚ $1.2 trillion spending bill stuffed with some 1‚400 pork-barrel projects?” “The House Republicans’ five-vote majority will dwindle to just one‚ thanks to their expelling Rep. George Santos of New York before his corruption trial even began. Also‚ California’s Kevin McCarthy‚ Colorado’s Ken Buck‚ Ohio’s Bill Johnson‚ and (soon) Wisconsin’s Mike Gallagher fled the ball field and drove home in the sixth inning. Do Republicans relish defeat or has their gender-affirming care backfired?” MSNBC staffers could have interrogated McDaniel‚ and she would have had to take it. Unlike her old job‚ she could not say‚ “No comment” and then hide in her office (which was not her style). McDaniel could have fulfilled her contract and faced on-air questions or clammed up and surrendered her reported $300‚000 annual salary. Turn the tables: Imagine that Fox News Channel hired Biden’s former climate czar John Kerry. Rather than implode on camera‚ my Fox News colleagues eagerly would ask Kerry such questions as: “Why did Joe Biden ignore his military advisers and close Bagram Airport before fleeing Afghanistan?” “When you repeatedly huddled with Iran’s ayatollahs in the Trump years‚ weren’t you violating the Logan Act?” “When the now-deceased Henry Kissinger negotiated the Paris Peace Accords in 1972‚ you advised the North Vietnamese delegation in person on how to outbargain America’s secretary of state. Why‚ sir‚ should you not be arrested for treason the moment you exit this studio?” Nothing analogous will face the ex-chief of the RNC because NBC = DNC. John Chancellor and David Brinkley must be revolving in their graves. Rather than crumple like aluminum foil‚ NBC’s brass should have sacked their insolent‚ insubordinate “talent.” Ambitious journalists from newsrooms across America would have leapt to replace them. Brzezinski‚ Maddow‚ and Todd are all replaceable. Especially Todd. The Daily Signal publishes a variety of perspectives. Nothing written here is to be construed as representing the views of The Heritage Foundation. The post REVOLTING: Crybaby Journos Give NBC Brass the Bird appeared first on The Daily Signal.