Quotelation

68 notes

probalicious:

How come I don’t remember McGee’s hair ever being like that? Weird. Did I just ignore it? He looks like a Backstreet Boy…

I think it’s because he usually just had it combed back in a particular way, but they’re all hot and sweaty here and it’s come down.  It’s not the best look for him, but I did like this exchange.

(Source: phd-in-horribleness)

6,116 notes

anticapitalist: Our real first gay president The new issue of Newsweek features a cover photo of President Obama topped by a rainbow-colored halo and captioned “The First Gay President.” The halo and caption strike me as cheap sensationalism. I realize airport travelers look at a magazine for 2.2 seconds before moving on to the next one. I grant that this cover will probably get Newsweek a 4.4 second glance. I also understand that Newsweek is desperate for sales. Nevertheless, I doubt that the Newsweek of old, before it was sold for a dollar, would have pandered as shallowly. The caption is a superficial way to characterize an important development of thought that the president — along with the country — has been making over recent years. It is also entirely wrong. Like the mini-furor a couple of months back about the claim that Richard Nixon was our first gay president, the story simply ignores that the U.S. already had a gay president more than a century ago. There can be no doubt that James Buchanan was gay, before, during and after his four years in the White House. Moreover, the nation knew it, too — he was not far into the closet. Today, I know no historian who has studied the matter and thinks Buchanan was heterosexual. Fifteen years ago, historian John Howard, author of “Men Like That,” a pioneering study of queer culture in Mississippi, shared with me the key documents, including Buchanan’s May 13, 1844, letter to a Mrs. Roosevelt. Describing his deteriorating social life after his great love, William Rufus King, senator from Alabama, had moved to Paris to become our ambassador to France, Buchanan wrote: I am now “solitary and alone,” having no companion in the house with me. I have gone a wooing to several gentlemen, but have not succeeded with any one of them. I feel that it is not good for man to be alone; and should not be astonished to find myself married to some old maid who can nurse me when I am sick, provide good dinners for me when I am well, and not expect from me any very ardent or romantic affection.

anticapitalist:

Our real first gay president

The new issue of Newsweek features a cover photo of President Obama topped by a rainbow-colored halo and captioned “The First Gay President.” The halo and caption strike me as cheap sensationalism. I realize airport travelers look at a magazine for 2.2 seconds before moving on to the next one. I grant that this cover will probably get Newsweek a 4.4 second glance. I also understand that Newsweek is desperate for sales. Nevertheless, I doubt that the Newsweek of old, before it was sold for a dollar, would have pandered as shallowly.

The caption is a superficial way to characterize an important development of thought that the president — along with the country — has been making over recent years. It is also entirely wrong. Like the mini-furor a couple of months back about the claim that Richard Nixon was our first gay president, the story simply ignores that the U.S. already had a gay president more than a century ago.

There can be no doubt that James Buchanan was gay, before, during and after his four years in the White House. Moreover, the nation knew it, too — he was not far into the closet.

Today, I know no historian who has studied the matter and thinks Buchanan was heterosexual. Fifteen years ago, historian John Howard, author of “Men Like That,” a pioneering study of queer culture in Mississippi, shared with me the key documents, including Buchanan’s May 13, 1844, letter to a Mrs. Roosevelt. Describing his deteriorating social life after his great love, William Rufus King, senator from Alabama, had moved to Paris to become our ambassador to France, Buchanan wrote:

I am now “solitary and alone,” having no companion in the house with me. I have gone a wooing to several gentlemen, but have not succeeded with any one of them. I feel that it is not good for man to be alone; and should not be astonished to find myself married to some old maid who can nurse me when I am sick, provide good dinners for me when I am well, and not expect from me any very ardent or romantic affection.

(via neil-gaiman)

34 notes

sammyonair: “Hey, Ziver.”  Maybe the way she’d been raised - to instantly mistrust - was the reason she reacted to Gibbs’s voice like she did, with nervousness coiling up in her belly as if something bad was about to happen. Maybe it was just the tone of his voice, though. So very soft, with a hint of rare emotion simmering somewhere deep inside. She said his name then, making it sound like a question, and he sighed and shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket. “Cleaned out a few boxes last night. Found this,” he said quietly, and the lump in her stomach tightened even more. “Thought you might want to have it.” She stared at the photograph he handed her, blinking hard all of a sudden. Kairo. That first night after she had run into Jenny and ended up saving her life. And then the older woman had completely baffled her and dragged her away on a trip through half a dozen night clubs. Her way of saying thank you. “Where… did you get this?” Her own voice surprised her. Ragged, hard to control.  He shrugged, surprising her. She had never seen him look awkward before. “That night Jenn’s house burned down,” he replied quietly. “We took a few personal things. Wanted to give it to you back then, but you were gone so fast. And I just forgot.” She nodded, slowly, then lowered her eyes and stared at the picture again. Blinking suddenly didn’t help anymore. A tear made its way down her cheek, and part of her thought she should wipe it away and hide the turmoil inside her, like she had been taught to do from early youth. Like she had done for the better part of her life. She ran her thumb across the photograph instead, and for a moment she imagined feeling her friend’s arm around her shoulders again. Felt the unexpected laughter Jenny had drawn out of her that first night. How good it had been to forget about her assignment for a few hours. To just relax. Good times. She sighed and tucked the photograph between her pencils in their plastic holder on her desk. “I miss you,” she told the photograph, and Jenn smiled back at her, good-naturedly, as if she’d known that all along. * * * Truthfully, I know I could have done much better on this one, especially on the clothes, but I was beginning to feel frustrated with it and just wanted to see it finished. And in the end, I’m pretty satisfied with it, even though there’s still something slightly off about Ziva. I blame it on the long night of partying she did with Jenny. :) Done with only a few different pencils (4H, 2H, HB, 2B and 8B for the really dark blacks, plus a mechanical pencil for very fine details and hair) and some minor cleanup work in Photoshop. Original size is about 15 by 15 cm (about 6 by 6 inches). Reblogging is fine, but don’t repost this elsewhere and don’t claim it as yours. Thank you very much. *is very tired now* This is lovely—Jenny particularly is spot-on, and I like that Ziva has a slightly impish look to her.  It’s the story with it that kinda chokes me up, though.  Even though I really do love Vance, sometimes I miss Jenny, and like to think the team does, too (especially Ziva).

sammyonair:

“Hey, Ziver.” 

Maybe the way she’d been raised - to instantly mistrust - was the reason she reacted to Gibbs’s voice like she did, with nervousness coiling up in her belly as if something bad was about to happen. Maybe it was just the tone of his voice, though. So very soft, with a hint of rare emotion simmering somewhere deep inside.

She said his name then, making it sound like a question, and he sighed and shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket.

“Cleaned out a few boxes last night. Found this,” he said quietly, and the lump in her stomach tightened even more. “Thought you might want to have it.”

She stared at the photograph he handed her, blinking hard all of a sudden. Kairo. That first night after she had run into Jenny and ended up saving her life. And then the older woman had completely baffled her and dragged her away on a trip through half a dozen night clubs. Her way of saying thank you.

“Where… did you get this?” Her own voice surprised her. Ragged, hard to control. 

He shrugged, surprising her. She had never seen him look awkward before. “That night Jenn’s house burned down,” he replied quietly. “We took a few personal things. Wanted to give it to you back then, but you were gone so fast. And I just forgot.”

She nodded, slowly, then lowered her eyes and stared at the picture again. Blinking suddenly didn’t help anymore. A tear made its way down her cheek, and part of her thought she should wipe it away and hide the turmoil inside her, like she had been taught to do from early youth. Like she had done for the better part of her life.

She ran her thumb across the photograph instead, and for a moment she imagined feeling her friend’s arm around her shoulders again. Felt the unexpected laughter Jenny had drawn out of her that first night. How good it had been to forget about her assignment for a few hours. To just relax.


Good times.

She sighed and tucked the photograph between her pencils in their plastic holder on her desk.

“I miss you,” she told the photograph, and Jenn smiled back at her, good-naturedly, as if she’d known that all along.

* * *

Truthfully, I know I could have done much better on this one, especially on the clothes, but I was beginning to feel frustrated with it and just wanted to see it finished. And in the end, I’m pretty satisfied with it, even though there’s still something slightly off about Ziva. I blame it on the long night of partying she did with Jenny. :)

Done with only a few different pencils (4H, 2H, HB, 2B and 8B for the really dark blacks, plus a mechanical pencil for very fine details and hair) and some minor cleanup work in Photoshop. Original size is about 15 by 15 cm (about 6 by 6 inches).

Reblogging is fine, but don’t repost this elsewhere and don’t claim it as yours. Thank you very much. *is very tired now*

This is lovely—Jenny particularly is spot-on, and I like that Ziva has a slightly impish look to her.  It’s the story with it that kinda chokes me up, though.  Even though I really do love Vance, sometimes I miss Jenny, and like to think the team does, too (especially Ziva).