Review: Women's Work: The First 20,000 Years - Women, Cloth, and Society in Early Times by Elizabeth Wayland Barber

I came across this book as part of the reference material in another book, which is often how I develop out my reading list, hopping through topics like stones across a creek. Though I purchased it last December in a post-Christmas book buying, I didn't start it for several months. Even so, this is not what I would call a quick read. It's an academic text written by an archaeologist (and weaver). Thus, it takes a methodical look at the evidence (and lack of evidence) around the work women did in the first 20,000 years of civilization. It requires a level of mental engagement that prevented it from moving quickly.

I didn't realize what I was getting into when I bought the book. I'm not sure I even knew what I was expecting until I got to chapter ten, Behind the Myths, in which she discusses the fascinating correlations between certain items of myth (such as a shirt dipped in dragon's blood will kill the wearer) and textile knowledge of the era (that there was a dye favored by royals which was nicknamed Dragons Blood and, if left in contact with the skin for a duration, would absolutely kill someone). That entire chapter was incredible, but I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it the way I did if she hadn't spent the previous nine chapters laying out the development of weaving, dying, sewing, and other crucial skills of the era. Just as I didn't know what I was expecting from the book, I didn't know how to accomplish it until the author did it for me.

History in this sense is not my forte. I love history for the stories it imparts and the lessons learned, but dates have never stuck well in my head, and so while I can recite entire sagas of the English Monarchy and discuss at length why Queen Victoria conducted her court as she did and how it influenced the courts of her descendants all the way through Elizabeth II, I have a rough time remembering when she ascended the throne. Thus, the first several chapters which are discussing the development and migration of society, and the references to those dates throughout are a bit lost on me. Barber, however, is a professor and has clearly encountered people like me before, so she provides graphs to help me follow along.

Speaking of her provided aids, Barber makes incredible use of her artistic skill to reproduce a number of important visual references. Early in the book, she shows how actually taking the time to try to reproduce historic weaving teaches a great deal about the context is which it is created, and provides the pictures of her own work doing so. When she talks about a Nineteenth Dynasty Egyptian weaving shop painted on a tomb discovered in the thirteenth century, she reproduces it for the reader. When she discusses the trade routes men took to sell wares while their women produced them, she draws simple line maps to give an idea of scale and distance. When she suggests that the Venus de Milo, whose arms would be held in an awkward position were they present, is in fact created in the exact position that Greek women held their spinning, she provides an artistic rendition of how the statue would look had the wood and wool accessories not been lost to time.

This makes a huge difference between an academic text and an engaging collaboration in understanding. I got to discover for myself the artwork that shows a change to the type of loom used in Egyptian weaving because the artwork was provided for me to examine. This elevates the text and provides engagement in a way that can be lost in a somewhat difficult topic to grapple with as history measured over the course of centuries.

The last chapter, technically labeled a postscript, was one that really pleased me to see, which was an examination of her methodology. Early in the book she explained that a lot of what constituted women's work in this part of civilization was made of perishable items - food, fabric, farming - and thus discounted for much of archaeology. That she takes such care to discuss how she went about doing the research that led to this book in the face of those challenges was both interesting and reassuring, as a description of methodology is often lacking in academic text provided for mass consumption. It pleased me greatly. She says, in reference to a gentleman who had influenced her in the field, "He never let his ego get in the way of learning, by hanging on to an idea because it was his." Wise words.

The book can be summed up by her last paragraph, and I hope that if Dr. Barber every stumbles on this she will not mind it reproduced here: "We women do not need to conjure a history for ourselves. Facts about women, their work, and their place in society in early times have survived in considerable quantity, if we know how to  look for them. Far from being dull and in need of fanciful paint to make it more interesting, this truth is sometimes (as far as the saying goes) stranger than fiction, a fascinating tale in itself."

The Three Rules of Fashion

I haven't done a post about fashion in a long time. It's not that I don't think about it still, I do (and in fact, I do more than I used to). It's that most of those thoughts are fleeting, thoughts better pursued directly on G+.

And that is where this post originated, before I decided to  move it to Blogger. The reason is the topic feels more permanent, less about the fleeting aspects of fashion (shoulder cutouts, I don't understand...) and more about the permanence of style. Fashion is what they create, Style is how you present. If you're interested in the chatter of various fashion choices, let me know and I'll add you to the Fashion and Style Circle on G+.

The Rules of Fashion

Printable from Modern Mommsie on Etsy.com

Even if you've never followed them, you probably know that the old rules of what one wears are thoroughly smashed. "No white after Labor Day" has been relaxed to clarify that one shouldn't wear summery fabrics (such as white linen) once the temp drops (which might be November), unless you live in tropical areas (such as Florida), in which case the rules don't apply all. Almost every hard and fast fashion rule has undergone a similar obfuscation so that almost anything goes.

This is lovely from the freedom of expression angle and devastating from the "but how do I know if what I'm wearing is appropriate?" angle. Because the truth of the matter is that while the rules have gone, there is still an expectation of  "appropriate dress", which comes will all the cultural baggage of decades past and none of the rules to help one out.

The New York Times published an article back in October called "How to dress like an adult", in which the author addresses this exact issue. How do you mark that you're an adult now when a hoodie and sneakers is entirely appropriate attire for an adult? The old rules about what teenagers wear vs adults is long gone, with girls wearing high heels long before they turn 16 (or 18, depending on the height of the heel) and industry giants not owning a suit because their industry rejects it's formality. Vanessa Friedman, the author of the NYT piece, has distilled it down to three rules (you can call it guidance is rules makes you twitch):

1. Do not distract.
2. Think of your clothes as costume.
3. Learn to iron (and sew, and fold and invest in some good hangers).

She explains how these three rules cover a multitude of areas. She believes the first to be the most important, and it is invaluable, but the third is my personal favorite. The clothes you wear are far less of a concern than how you wear them. I have a pair of brown heels from Payless that I've owned for probably 10 years. I've replaced the heel tap and the insoles and they are my favorite pair of shoes. My personal philosophy of buy the best you can afford and that you really love, then use it until it falls apart, applies to clothing more than anything (it's where I developed the policy). So even though I now buy shoes that have a higher price tag out the gate, I still treat them the same - replace the parts you can replace until the shoes cannot be fixed, then mourn their death and find new ones.

A crumpled Chanel (which is a sin...) looks messy, where as a jacket from Target that is in good condition, ironed, and tailored will take you far.

Thoughts on these three rules?

The Stick and I

As I've mentioned before, I sometimes use a cane. I have two of them, actually - the one the VA issued me, which is set to my flat-footed height, and a lovely wood one that is cut to heel-height and the one that is most commonly seen out of the house. Eventually, I intend to have a wood one cut for flat feet so I am more comfortable going out of the house in flat shoes with a cane (I hate wearing flats and pre-disability me rarely did out of the house unless partaking in an activity that required it, like exercise).

My relationship with the cane is complicated. One of the "benefits" of an invisible illness is that we pass as healthy, in my case for over a decade. Family, friends, the world in general all assumed I was healthy or, if they knew I was sick, never really understood the extent. This isn't their fault, I never let them see me as sick. Despite being more visible about it now, there is still a great deal of surprise (and disbelief) associated with my illness.

But you can see the cane. You can't miss it, actually. It draws attention, especially combined with my usual style of dress and appearance. I don't look sick, I'm wearing makeup, I have two legs that usually can be seen because I tend to wear dresses...what is wrong with me? People are curious and I am the curiosity. For those that also see me when I don't need it, the concept that mobility aids are not an all or nothing game can be a struggle. People think of walkers, canes, crutches, as permanent fixtures that are needed 100% of the time. A friend of mine used a wheelchair, but she could stand or walk short distances, which turned expressions of pity and curiosity into disbelief and outrage.

When I read articles about others who adapt to the use of mobility devices, I am reading not only to understand and develop empathy, but also reading my potential future. We have no idea what course my health will take. I may need a cane full-time. I may need to graduate to a walker or the dreaded chair. I look for coping mechanisms, suggestions, ideas, strategies. I struggled for months before I asked the VA for the cane (which they were quick to provide) and even longer before I allowed myself to be seen using it. I put myself through a lot of physical and psychological pain in the process, stressed about what the cane meant to others, what it meant to me, about me. We're approaching a place of peace, the stick and I, and it's a hard won peace. It helps to read that others struggle too and that they overcome the struggle. That does not make me eager to engage in it again, but I'm trying to avoid the sense of dread through education.

I'm told the tendency to respond to every problem with "Education!" is the tendency of a Democrat...

Peace vs Victory

I was listening to Morning Edition on NPR and there is a story about the President of Columbia, President Santos, winning the Nobel Prize for Peace, even after the voters rejected the peace plan he brokered to stop 50 years of war (http://n.pr/2dxcFcm). As they were discussing how Santos became president, with his history of fighting the insurgents, and then his transition once he became president to peace talks, it struck me that, suddenly, he is incredibly unpopular. He brokered a treaty to end a 50 year war...what else do people want?

The answer, I realized, is that the people don't want peace. They want victory. They don't want the fighting to end, they want their enemy destroyed.

Victory is a win-condition. It decimates the enemy, creates a clear victor, deliniates right and wrong. The Civil War, WWI and WWII - these all had victories, where the winners could proclaim themselves to be advocates of peace while the losers were trampled under heel, buried in reparations and debts, stripped of economic strength and, most importantly, their dignity.

Peace is a process. It takes time, it requires that both sides give a little, it takes negotiations. It's hard. No one may come out a clear victor, but the goal is a standing, lasting peace, one that, over time, heals, which means that both sides must retain their dignity, must be able to live and grow under the terms. For true peace, the conflicts will fade away over time. New ones may arise, but they will not be a rehashing of the past, because peace allows wounds to heal.

If we had focused on peace after the Civil War, would we still be fighting the culture wars that arose from making our own citizens feel as their own was endangered, disregarded, wiped out?

Would WWII have happened if Germany hadn't been stripped of their dignity in the Versaille Treaty after WWI?

Would we be fighting ISIS if we had found a better way in the Middle East over the decades of European and American involvement in the region, rather than cutting up their borders and gutting their culture?

Peace is not popular. It does not generate parades. It costs both sides. When you call for peace, ask yourself: Do you want peace or victory? Be honest with yourself. Do you want to be able to sit down at a table with the people you were formerly in conflict with, with dignity preserved on all sides, prepared to give some up yourself for a lasting, true peace? Or do you want to bring them to heel, to show them who is boss, to ensure they don't dare mess with America again?

These are different. They require different tools to achieve. You cannot call for peace and then support actions aimed towards victory, thinking they will achieve the same result.

So be honest with yourself. What do you want? What are you willing to support?

Reivew: Red: A History of the Redhead by Jacky Colliss Harvey

As you can see from my profile picture, I am a redhead. Like most of my kind, my relationship with my hair color has been contentious, but I have settled into a happy place of acceptance. My mother has red hair, a brick red shade I have often envied, and I am told a great-great aunt did.

Like me, Harvey is a redhead. Her book covers a large array of topics - the genes behind red hair, red hair in society, mythology, art, literature, television, film, and history. Beginning with the science of it all, the book starts a little dry, but the work is fascinating as she explores what we know about the spread of the gene that creates red hair, as well as what is being theorized in cases where the science gets fuzzy (for example, mummies with red hair don't always mean a redhead, as henna was used as a burial aid and could change appearance of hair following centuries of mummification).

Supporting her discussion of red as the color used to mark extraordinary qualities in art are beautiful photos of paintings and pottery. She specifically talks about the use of the color red to draw attention, making it a natural choice for artists when they want to highlight a subject in their work. The visual aided in the development of some of the stereotypes of redheads as they became associated with popular figures in art, especially Judas, angels, Mary the Mother of God and, most commonly, Mary Magdalene.

Clues of redheads of history are carefully examined. She mentions several qualities that might suggest redheadedness, or have been taken as an indication of such, without actually knowing of the individual had red hair. Because of the way that history works, it is assumed many firey figures of history were redheaded, even if the only words use to describe them were "ruddy", which is more descriptive of skin tone that often accompanies red hair, but doesn't necessarily require it. Personally, I loved her critical eye. I thought it was well applied throughout the book, looking for where supposition departs from fact.

The part of the book that really struck me was when she began discussing modern societal assumptions of redheads, the vast difference between the view of redheaded men and women, and the oft-common shared experience of redheaded children as easy targets for insults and mockery. She lays out comments and responses that I didn't even realize where commonly shared until I read them in the book. It unsettled me that such behavior was widely accepted, but at least I know it's not only me. I am much more critical when I see a redhead on a screen - is she the temptress, the rebel, the troublemaker? The number of times the answer is yes is a little disturbing.

She ends the book sharing her experience visiting Redhead Days in Breda, of which she also included a really beautiful picture, and brings it back to the sense that there is an understanding and shared experience of being a redhead, even if we have different eye color, skin tones (she does a lovely exploration of cultures that boast a regular percentage of redheads who also depart from the stereotypical fair skin and light eyes), and languages. Most of the people she talked to had this in common - that they had struggled with their hair and the undesired attention it brought them, but that they would trade it for nothing.

I think the book would be interesting for anyone who is interested in cultural shifts and trends, the development of stereotypes in Western culture, tropes in television and cinema, art history, or who happen to be a redhead themselves. I expect to reference the book in the future and several items from her "Reading for Redheads" appendix are on my list for future reads.

Flying While Disabled

This last weekend we had a gaming convention in Connecticut. Because it's the school year and my husband has to work, we flew to the event rather than drive. Whenever we can, we drive when we travel, in part because of how hard flying is on me. Being in a car for days on end has it's own issues, but they are much easier to manage than flying. I think trains would likely be the perfect option if they were more common and we may try to make more use of them this summer.

Physically, flying is very demanding. The extensive standing in the airport and changes in cabin pressure in the air are devastating to my body, making it difficult to walk or stand after a flight and causing widespread pain. But the real stress is the experience of it all, what it is like to fly when you're disabled. My experience is different than others, so this is just one perspective, a drop in the disability pool.

When I first started to have trouble flying about 10 years ago, I spoke to my dear An, who was a pro at Flying While Disabled (FWD). She gave me some ground rules:

1. Be prepared. Prep for everything that might happen or go wrong.
2. Be polite and gracious. Never snap at anyone, you may need their help.
3. Don't rush. Small things take longer and there are waits involved that you might not anticipate, so give yourself more time between flights and before and after.

These sound a lot like rules for flying in general, don't they? The difference is, if you break them, you're just the person who didn't have their boarding pass out, was rude, or had to run to make their gate. I'm stranded, without help or options.

In 2012 I began to use a cane on a regular basis, which included flying with it. The first time I did, I was flying JetBlue, which is my favorite airline. Their staff is proactively helpful, something I never appreciated beyond more than good customer service until I couldn't stand in lines, take bags down from the overhead, or run between gates. Now I have more experience and my traveling usually goes like this:

Packing - When packing to fly, I only take carryon items that can fit under the seat, as I won't be able to reach up to remove them from overhead cabins after the flight and flight attendants aren't required to help you (United is particularly bad about this). There was a time when I was a champion carryon flyer, but those days are gone. So I carry a purse and a shoulder bag that can squash a little. I can only pull one rolling suitcase because one hand is taken up with a cane. Suitcase + Drink takes one hand too many.

Checkin - So packed, with a purse, a shoulder bag, and one rolling bag, I head to the airport. Whenever possible, I check bags at curbside checkin so I don't have to try to manage the airport with them in tow. Paper boarding passes are easier than digital ones because I can't keep my phone out while walking with a bag. When airports are busy, I am constantly on the lookout for rolling bags. I've had my cane taken out from under me on more than one occasion, which is both painful and mortifying.

Security - Most airports have a disability line for security, which is very kind since standing for long is painful. Unfortunately, there is one of those lines and if you happen to be at the wrong security gate, you need to walk to find the other one. In the case of Atlanta, my main airport, this might mean walking through the entire airport, as it did this last visit. The TSA and Atlanta Airport Staff offered me a chair twice, which I could have taken, but there are lines in sucumbing to illness that I refuse to cross as long as I have a choice. I can walk, so I do, even though it hurts and it leaves me exhausted. I hate the chair.

I have adopted a uniform for flying that serves to meet both my needs and my standards of attire. Short sleeve or sleeveless shirts in silk or cotton (fabrics which breath and are soft against painful skin), a very soft cardigan, trousers, and broad heeled shoes with socks. The shoes have to give my feet room to swell quite a bit and can never, ever, have ties, as removing shoes in line for security is a balancing act. My cane has to go through the xray, so I borrow the TSAs (which is always too tall). The large bio scanners are a particular challenge, as I have to climb into and get settled with the cane, then give the cane to the TSA agent and put my arms up, trying not to move while shaking. Most TSA agents are incredibly kind and give me their arm the moment the scan is done in addition to returning the cane. I gather all my items, return the TSAs cane, and find a seat. There is no chance of getting redressed while standing by this point.

Waiting to Board - This part has gotten much easier when traveling with someone, but very difficult when traveling alone. I usually try to eat a little something before I fly to make meds easier on the stomach, but I can't carry much while also carrying purse, bag, and cane. Too, long walks are slow and exhausting. This is where rule 3 is really crucial. I also make a point to use the bathroom (you'll understand in a minute).

Flight - I either board first or last. Preboarding can be occasionally difficult when the flight is full and the gates are crowded, making it hard to sit near the gate (I can't rush when they call for preboard) and I have to stand a lot. Sometimes the gate agents will tell me a place to sit to wait and will help me navigate the crowd (see rule 2) but getting bumped and knocked about is common. The ramp down to the plane is misery to navigate as any kind of downhill slant is questionably stable.

The moment I get to the plane, I ask for water to take meds. Most of the time, the attendants are happy to provide. I tend to sit on an aisle so that I can move my legs during flight, but I'm short so I suffer less on middle seats than most. As soon as I'm seated, I take out meds to take before we get started, as well as anything I think I'll want during the flight before stowing bags under the seat. I can't usually bend down during the flight, as flexibility decreases during takeoff. I keep my cane until the last minute, when the flight attendants close the overhead bins, at which point they put it up there for me. The person who opens the bin will have to remove it before they can get their bags (rule 2).

The flight itself is painful, but a combination of music, meds, and mental distractions usually makes it decently pleasant. I have always liked flying. If I want to get up to go the bathroom, I have to call a flight attendant to take down my cane, which draws attention I don't like, so I never do, even at 6+ hours. It's a bit of a pity, as airplane bathrooms are really easy to navigate because they're so small and I can balance more easily.

I get off the plane last so I can go as slow as I want and don't hold people up. I get to the bathroom as soon as I can afterwards.

Baggage Claim - This is one of the worst parts for me. After the flight, I'm in pain and stiff and leaning heavily on the cane. Often, I get to baggage claim late enough that an airport employee has already removed my bag from the conveyer for me. When that doesn't happen and I am traveling alone and not meeting anyone, I either have to wait until all the bags are off or ask for help. I have never had a fellow traveler not help when I asked, but I still hate to do it.

In general, FWD involves a lot of getting stared at (I have actually listened to people try to guess what is wrong with me) and putting myself into the hands of other people, something I hate doing. I've never really understood anxiety before I started FWD, but I do a little now, as I fear constantly that my preparation, friendly manner, and early arrivals will fall through and I'll be stuck in a terrible situation, mortified at best and hurt at worst. I crack jokes and compliment airline employees, TSA agents, and airport staff to try to offset the extra work that I create for them, to make myself pleasant enough that I don't become the low point of their day. I struggle with bags rather than ask for help because I'd rather be in pain than a nuissance and I will cling to my independence as long as I can.

My situation is better than many but it is different than it was when I was healthy. I am always impressed by TSA agents, who have been far more helpful than I ever expected. Mostly, though, it's an isolating experience, compounded with additional pain. Even writing about it is difficult, because you never want to be the person who whines about the difficulties that disability brings. But now you have a glimpse of what it's like to FWD. May you never experience it first hand.

Yesterday I Was a Teacher, Today I'm an Invalid

Yesterday, I was a guest lecturer for my husband's 8th grade class, teaching a lesson on the history of penmanship in America, how it was used to emphasize class and gender divides, and why it's important to them now. I then gave them an example of a business thank you note for an interview and we had a discussion about the importance of such notes.

It was a great, if exhausting experience. He has 130 students over 6 periods. They run the gamut of social class and race and I was intent on acknowledging that. As the topic was broached, my husband was quick to emphasize that, like most of the literature he teaches, the history was very white and male. We discussed that the standards laid out for professional world are white, male standards and that we recognize that it's not fair. We told them that we hoped that by giving them the tools to succeed in the world, that standard will become less white, less male, and more fair. I tried to validate their community experience, emphasizing that, just because the standards of their communities and familes were different from the ones considered appropriate by the professional (white, male) world, it didn't mean that those standards were wrong or unimportant. We dropped words like "code-switching" and talked about it a little. Basically, we tried to do the best we could at acknowledging that the system our country functions on is unfair and skewed, while also teaching a skill that is considered outdated by some, but important by others. Every teacher I spoke to yesterday said that they were happy I was addressing handwriting, which they declare is universally terrible. The students have a one-to-one iPad initiative, but they still have to handwrite things and they will continue to have to handwrite things.

My favorite moment was bringing up a copy of the Constitution and asking if they could read it. When they said "no", I told them that it says that all 15-year-olds are required to enter the military. When they objected, I asked them to prove otherwise. Being unable to read it, they realized they couldn't. They also led into a neat conversation about the use of illiteracy by The Church to control the people (selling indulgences was met with universal disdain) and the focus on literacy within the US.

It was a good day. I have new appreciation for how tired my husband is when he comes home. He stands the entire day, walking, rarely sitting. The needs of these kids are real - kids who need to charge their iPads at school on the sly because they don't have electricity, kids who steal things to make their friends happy because they're poor and shy and want to have friends, kids who can't afford lunch. He tends to them the best he can and they seem to respect him, with some of his kids saying that he's not "really white" because he gets them. I also heard him congratulated by every class period on how attractive his wife was, with one kid demanding to see ID because he didn't believe my husband had a wife like me. While the part of me who recognizes how ingrained into gender roles that behavior is, my vanity also ensured I appreciated the compliment, because they really do intend it that way.

Of course, for every good day, there is a bad. The other side of being on my feet and active all day is that I've been out all day today. My skin hurts, my back hurts, everything hurts. But it was worth it. My husband's department head asked if I would do the same lesson for her kids, and of course I will. Having a bad day doesn't invalidate the good days. When they do, then I will have succumbed to illness. I'd rather have a good day and then deal with the bad day that follows than give up the good days.

30th Birthday...Four Years Later

This weekend, my husband arranged for some of my closest friends to join me to celebrate my 30th birthday, along with a fellow January baby who is one of my lovliest ladies. Now, if you have basic arithmetic skills, you may know that my birthday in a week is actually my 34th, which I'm not ashamed or embarrassed to admit, since I take great pride in my age and the experience I have gathered. But my 30th birthday was a non-event, despite people in my life who perhaps should have made it a bigger deal, and the promises of others to make up for it were part of a series of bad choices they made. It's not a tragedy, the missing of a milestone birthday, and the broken promises associated with them are minor. But my husband knows all of this, the result of being my friend for many years through multiple relationships. He knows that one of the recurring problems in past relationships was promises made in earnest and then forgotten. He inherited a legacy that he's decided to correct, rather than take the easier and entirely justified route of that being the past and decidedly not his problem.

So we had a 30th birthday. My girls came in, plus a few local friends, and we went to The Shakespeare Tavern and saw As You Like It, a show I hadn't seen. It was incredible - the cast was fantastic, the food was good, and the company was incredible. It was everything I could have wanted from my 30th birthday - someone who cares about me took the effort to arrange for women to come in from different states so I could have a weekend with some of the most important people in the world to me. I couldn't have asked for more than that.

Alan Rickman

Alan Rickman's death has made me incredibly sad. I've been processing it all day. The question of "why" is always one to consider, but with a celebrity, why does it matter so much?

I think when a celebrity who has had an effect on us through art dies, it brings forward the feelings of those we have lost that we did know personally. The music, movies, and theater created by the talented celebrities who can honestly be called "artist" (of whom both Alan Rickman and David Bowie were) create an emotional connection that mimics what we have between us as humans. It's one way, of course, but as anyone who has experienced unrequited feelings knows, that doesn't make it less of an emotional connection.

So in their death, we experience again all the feelings of friends and family we have lost, as well as the tragedy of "what else could they have created, given time?" All combined, it's no wonder we've all been upside down with the loss of such giants.

I had an incredible conversation earlier with a dear friend about death and loss, especially those that seem unfair. I am grateful for friends like him who can express their rage and anger at loss while allowing me to express grief, who don't lessen what I'm feeling. Talking it through is also made it easier, as it usually does. A burden shared...

Tonight we watched Dogma and Galaxy Quest in the name of Alan Rickman. If I had started the Harry Potter movies, I would have to watch them all and I don't know if I can watch him die tonight (Die Hard, Potter, many others). I needed comedy.

Always.