And yet this could have been even more awesome – not merely awesome, but hyper-awesome – had they included https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0390903/.
Perfect in power, love and unity…
A few years back, when Tom H The Younger was stepping out with the mononymous actress Zendaya (you’ll remember her from that massive screen epic about a tragic Greek noble house, it also has Robert Pattinson… you know, that omne), someone Tweeted (or Xcreeted or whatever one is supposed to call it in the Dunning-Krugerrand era) “If they get married, does she become ‘Zendaya Holland’? Or does he become just ‘Tom’?” and Tom H The Elder replied “Please – just ‘Tom’.”
Respect.
“… There was a man in camp whose name, spoken, sounded like Shevek’s: Shevet. When one was called the other answered. Shevek felt a kind of affinity for the man, a relation more particular than that of brotherhood because of this random similarity. A couple of times he saw Shevet eyeing him. They did not speak to each other yet/ […]
The man named Shevet came up to Shevek one night after supper. He was a stocky, handsome fellow of thirty. “I’m tired of getting mixed up with you,” he said. “Call yourself something else.”
The surly aggressiveness would have puzzled Shevek earlier. Now he simply responded in kind. “Change your own name if you don’t like it,” he said.
“You’re one of those little profiteers who goes to school to keep his hands clean,” the man said. “I’ve always wanted to knock the shit out of one of you.”
“Don’t call me profiteer!” Shevek said, but this wasn’t a verbal battle. Shevet knocked him double. He got in several return blows, having long arms and more temper than his opponent expected: but he was outmatched. Several people paused to watch, saw that it was a fair fight but not an interesting one, and went on. They were neither offended nor attracted by simple violence. Shevek did not call for help, so it was nobody’s business but his own. When he came to he was lying on his back on the dark ground between two tents.
He had a ringing in his right ear for a couple of days, and a split lip that took long to heal because of the dust, which irritated all sores. He and Shevet never spoke again. He saw the man at a distance, at other cookfires, without animosity. Shevet had given him what he had to give, and he had accepted the gift, though for a long time he never weighed it or considered its nature.
– THE DISPOSSESSED, by Ursula LeGuin
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And yet this could have been even more awesome – not merely awesome, but hyper-awesome – had they included https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0390903/.
Perfect in power, love and unity…
A few years back, when Tom H The Younger was stepping out with the mononymous actress Zendaya (you’ll remember her from that massive screen epic about a tragic Greek noble house, it also has Robert Pattinson… you know, that omne), someone Tweeted (or Xcreeted or whatever one is supposed to call it in the Dunning-Krugerrand era) “If they get married, does she become ‘Zendaya Holland’? Or does he become just ‘Tom’?” and Tom H The Elder replied “Please – just ‘Tom’.”
Respect.
“… There was a man in camp whose name, spoken, sounded like Shevek’s: Shevet. When one was called the other answered. Shevek felt a kind of affinity for the man, a relation more particular than that of brotherhood because of this random similarity. A couple of times he saw Shevet eyeing him. They did not speak to each other yet/ […]
The man named Shevet came up to Shevek one night after supper. He was a stocky, handsome fellow of thirty. “I’m tired of getting mixed up with you,” he said. “Call yourself something else.”
The surly aggressiveness would have puzzled Shevek earlier. Now he simply responded in kind. “Change your own name if you don’t like it,” he said.
“You’re one of those little profiteers who goes to school to keep his hands clean,” the man said. “I’ve always wanted to knock the shit out of one of you.”
“Don’t call me profiteer!” Shevek said, but this wasn’t a verbal battle. Shevet knocked him double. He got in several return blows, having long arms and more temper than his opponent expected: but he was outmatched. Several people paused to watch, saw that it was a fair fight but not an interesting one, and went on. They were neither offended nor attracted by simple violence. Shevek did not call for help, so it was nobody’s business but his own. When he came to he was lying on his back on the dark ground between two tents.
He had a ringing in his right ear for a couple of days, and a split lip that took long to heal because of the dust, which irritated all sores. He and Shevet never spoke again. He saw the man at a distance, at other cookfires, without animosity. Shevet had given him what he had to give, and he had accepted the gift, though for a long time he never weighed it or considered its nature.
– THE DISPOSSESSED, by Ursula LeGuin