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Irish Times
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Summer fiction: I Can Do Rude by Maya Kulukundis
It is quite something if a man offers to buy you a fur hat. It is even quite something if a man, with arm twisted, agrees to buy you a fur hat. So, should you find yourself with a man who feels guilty enough and whose pockets you know to be deep, demand it. Say: I want a fur hat and I want you to buy one for me. Sam and I are in New York and today he will do just that. I am not meant to be in New York. I was brought here, a pity-bring, because of what had happened – something common and procedural, about which one must avoid being sentimental – and how it had made me lose my nerve. I had become scared to dress, scared to bathe, and scared, even, to pee, for when naked and looking down at my dipped hips and the downy wisps of my pubic hair, I ached. I had expected Sam to ache too, in solidarity, and hide away with me. For we are lovers, and lovers often mirror one another. But then Sam announced that he was going away, and to Manhattan of all places. He needed to spend a long weekend out of Ireland. To taste again his old American life. But don't you see that I am sad still? I said. And surely you are sad, too? Yes, Sam said. But the world cannot stop every time one is sad. READ MORE I would, however, not let Sam leave me, not so soon, and as his departure day approached, I egged my fears on. I let my bladder fill such that twice, in the middles of nights, it burst, meaning Sam had to wake, carry the sheets to the washing machine, and tell me that I must not be ashamed. Then, eventually, after I screeched and bashed my head against the wall, Sam relented. Fine. I could come. We would stay with his best and cleverest friend, Marcus, and Marcus's girlfriend, Nancy. And it would be good for us; it might even be fun. So long as I behaved and did not make a fuss. Fuss? I said, a bump rising at my hairline. Me? On the plane, emboldened, I pushed for more. And should I behave and make no fuss, what? I said. What do I get? Anything you like, Sam said, tearing his headphones out of their plastic sack. I thought of steely women in extravagant winter clothes, photographs I had seen of Maria Callas, Jackie O. A fur hat, I said. I want a fur hat. I have, in fact, behaved. I have skipped nicely through Sam's old haunts: a corner of Central Park in which, he told me, his ashes would one day be scattered; a cocktail bar downtown in which the hostess hugged him from behind; a fabled deli in the Bronx, in which rotting sausages were strung up like garlands and my nose never quite adjusted, my eyes tick-ticking with the turning meat smell. In every space, the I want has simmered under my tongue, keeping me sweet. And today is our last day so, before we make our way to JFK, the fur-hat-buying has to happen. An oyster grown in sewage would taste only of sewage. But here, you would say it was delicious Yes, Sam said this morning, when I woke and kissed and said, I want. Yes, Sam said, as we followed Marcus into the belly of Grand Central Station, to the Oyster Bar where he had booked a farewell lunch, and I said: I want. Yes, Helena. After lunch, we will go shopping and you shall get. My own fur hat, to have and to hold, a present from my darling beau! An 'abortion present', I clarify, just quiet enough so that Marcus, now sitting opposite us and flattening his napkin on his lap, cannot hear but Sam, next to me, can. He grips my knee under the table: shh, shh. Oysters arrive. We take tiny forks and stab them, teasing each from its shell, severing that fleshy tendon that is like the thin cord on a tongue-tie, tipping our necks back and swallowing. An oyster tastes only of the sea, but here, you should say it is delicious. Delicious, I say. Sam explains about the oysters in New York Harbour, which grew once, were killed off by sewage dumping, but might be made to grow again. An oyster grown in sewage would taste only of sewage. But here, you would say it was delicious. That sounds delicious! I say. I am getting good at New York Talk. Marcus says that he once owned a set of gold-plated forks, all of which, over a decade, had disappeared into people's handbags. And whose handbags were they? He peers at me in joke suspicion, but it is true that I am the outsider here, the stranger who has breakfasted at his breakfast bar and looked up, up, at him offering comments on books – good books, books by Russians- with the hope that he deem me interesting. For that is always the challenge, appealing to the nearest and dearest. But should said dearest be Marcus , whose conversation flips into a glinting shoal of names, many of which, it hits you – is made to hit you through moments of sharp emphasis – are from the depths of your boyfriend's sexual past, stay calm. Change tack. Play the role most easily available to you: meek, sweet, coquette. So now, I fluff my hair, I unzip my purse, I open it wide and hold it up to Marcus's eyes to say: see? No forks in here! Marcus smirks and Sam nods: yes, Helena, correct. Nancy wouldn't join us for lunch. She is reviewing an opera tonight and can't have a social day if work is involved. Or so Marcus said, raising his eyebrows. My darling critic, Marcus calls her. My little workaholic. Anyway, if Nancy does eat lunch, it wouldn't be with me. I was looking in the bathroom mirror earlier and she arrived – for creams or teeth – but when she saw me, she shucked and twisted back for the bedroom, the heels of her slippers slapping against the floor. Marcus, slumped in the living room with the newspaper, caught me on my way to dress and said, You should understand. That girl is not for the mornings. That girl is not for the evenings either. When we all went for cocktails on the first night, Marcus announced that he and Nancy were engaged. Nancy, wearing a huge woollen cape and hunching to hide the width of her shoulders, hunched even lower when Marcus said it. We have decided that we might as well get married. I said nothing, twirled my olive stick. Sam finished his Negroni, and he said nothing too. It was a bar of hard surfaces, the chatter of one table colliding with that of another – and as the saying-nothing continued, I wondered whether Marcus had announced anything at all. Then Sam, loosened, began describing his Dublin life. And I know his Dublin life, I am his Dublin life, but in his telling it was as if he were looking at the life from above, making it all small and dull and squashable. Nancy, sitting up, said, Surely you'll come back to New York? If it's such a dump? And so Sam started on visa-talk – he would need to procure an American wife- and it was as if he were twizzling a needle into the soft corner of my eye which stung, stung such that I was worried I might glitch, say something I shouldn't. I pressed Sam's palm against burning cheek to mean: stop now, please. By the last round, I had reset. I stood on my tiptoes to kiss Marcus nicely on the cheek and Sam nicely on the lips and I thanked them for the evening. Sam put his hand on my back. Of course, my sweet. A pleasure! Marcus said. Nancy stared at me with sharp, green eyes and swished out into the street. Back at the apartment, Nancy balanced on the windowsill, knees tight at her chest and one arm dangling down. Marcus rushed to the guest room where Sam and I were undressing and said, Come, watch this. We crept into the hallway as Marcus sidled up to Nancy with a spliff and cooed, Pspsps , Nancy-Nancy, here's your bedtime joint. She offered her hand. Marcus slid the spliff between her fingers. She lit it, took a long drag, and shooed us all away. Later, when Sam and I were lying together, I asked why he had not congratulated Marcus and Nancy on their engagement. God, he said. I thought that was a joke. He laughed then, a big laugh during which I could see the brown tops of his molars. Well, well. We'll send them flowers after we leave. I do not see why Nancy deserves flowers for she does not play right. She should know never to glare or to round her shoulders. She should know where it is acceptable to turn her sadness or anger on, and to otherwise twist the tap and shut it off. I am younger by 11 whole years, but already much better at this than her. I felt that Sam and I should have sex then, but we had been told to wait for two weeks, lest I risk an infection, and Sam would not take another risk. So, we lay alongside one another, holding hands. And when I began to cry in short, sharp bursts, Sam held the duvet up to make for me a safe and private hideaway: shh, shh. In the morning, Marcus informed us that we had kept him up with our night-time noises. I apologised; Sam buttered his toast with jumpy strokes. No need to apologise! Marcus said. I'm glad someone's having fun here. Nancy stared into her coffee cup and twice she loudly yawned. Marcus says there is a name in New York for girls like me – willowy, eager girls who leap into an older man's bed and bounce. We are, he says, the 'out-of-town ingénues'. He says this as a tease, but even as a tease it makes no sense. I do not bounce. I am stiff in bed, and with Sam, because he made me shy, I was stiffer still. And I am not from a different town, I am from a different world. And now that I exist here, in this American brand of bright light and blue-lipped cold, my world seems completely fragile – as if, with my back turned, it might have been hacked apart into tiny shards and those shards sucked away. I can't, I said. The hole doesn't open. It does, Sam said, that's why we are here The oysters are over. Shells, empty and turned upside down like stony petals on the plate. The waiter appears with a crème brûlée. I don't remember anyone ordering dessert. I must have been distracted; my thinking splintered. Sam hands me a dessert spoon. I tap once at the thin layer of caramelised sugar; it gives; I scoop out the custard. The girl should take the first bite before the men start eating, that's the rule. And isn't it strange that I know this, that I have learned this? It was never the rule at home. Suddenly, I want to stand; I want to press my forehead against Marcus's and to spit, low and fierce, I don't need your forks, whatever the value. I have my own and they are good enough. But I know not to be low or fierce in an oyster bar. It is true, though, that I have done things that I know you should not do. I know that you should not miss pills, or leave gaps longer than 12 hours, but I did. I skipped. I knew that you should track cycles and that there were ways of being careful, but I wasn't. I disconnected. And I knew it was a mistake and mistakes are a source of great stress but when, 10 weeks on, I was shown the images by a so-sorry technician, I felt neither panic nor disgust, but a calm and easy recognition. Like coming upon a favourite jumper at the back of the cupboard drawer. Oh, I thought, so there you are. So, there you are, I sang, on the bus, in the bath. So, there you are; you are there. But for Sam, it was no easy feeling. He drank one glass of water quickly, then another. He opened the fridge and stared inside, at the eggs and the milk and the container we keep for the odd knobs of Parmesan cheese. You are so young, he said. It would be the wrong time. And I suppose it would be silly to have a child instead of living a full life. In bed, Sam was helpful and kind. He sat with me until I moved my chest up and down like a person asleep, whereupon he slipped away to read. Alone, I put my hand on my stomach and pressed in, in, trying to find the beating thing. So, there you were, I whispered. There you were; you were there. We went private and it was all so quick to arrange. In the hospital, Sam was helpful too. They gave me a pill to push into myself to begin loosening my cervix, but I did not understand how to do it, so the woman had to demonstrate with an upwards swoop. She left the room to give me privacy, but I did not want privacy. I wanted to leave. I should not, I began to say, to sob. And Sam was nervous, saying, don't say that. It'll cause problems. In his nervousness, he was sharp, so I tried; I put my fingers inside and pushed but was met by a warm, hard wall, as if I were bringing a vegetable to the mouth of a toddler and smashing, smashing it against their stubborn gums. I can't, I said. The hole doesn't open. It does, Sam said, that's why we are here. I'm not doing it, I said. You have to do it, not me. Sam hesitated. He walked to the door and locked it. He stood over the bed. He took the pill from me. I held my blanket over my nose and mouth and breathed through him – I have slept with this blanket every night for 22 years, he, he was always a 'he', has faded from blue to grey and his corners have worn away from rubbing against my knuckles – and Sam stroked my upper thigh, and then began circling, circling my clitoris with his thumb. He waited for my breathing to slow and to deepen, and then he slid one finger into a space that I myself have never known, and lodged the pill there, where it began to dissolve, prising apart the tight threads of me – I could feel the unlacing, it was a burning like a stitch – and opening my body wider, wide enough so that it would do the thing I couldn't, wouldn't otherwise do: let go. Afterwards, when I came up on a wheeling bed and was instructed to pass urine, Sam hobbled me to the loo. He eased down the gauze knickers that had appeared upon me, and, afterwards, he placed my chin on his shoulder as he ducked, wiped clean the seat and lip of the bowl and flushed, all so that I was not witness to the blood. * The lunch bill arrives in a smart, black jacket and Marcus slips some cash inside. He must be getting on. He has a function to attend. What, I say, is the function of a function? Marcus laughs, ruffles my hair. I duck. Shake him off. Perhaps you should be taking this one along to 47th Street, Sam, he says. What is 47th Street? I say. The Diamond District, Helena, Sam says. We'll save that one for another trip, eh? Marcus unhooks his coat, wishes us a pleasant flight home and makes for the door, trousers bunching under the fat of his buttocks. He is sweating. We all are, having been pummelled for the last hour by the station's central heating. I am excused; I go to the bathroom. My pad is wet through and smells of pennies. I hold it close to smell the penny smell and to check, but, of course – and I am no simple girl, but sometimes the mind plays tricks, it imagines souls where there are no souls, cells where there are no cells – there is nothing there. But even so, I want. I lean against the stall wall and I want. I roll the pad up, bin it, replace it. When I return, Sam is holding out my coat. I am threaded through the sleeves, the I want pulsing in me as little, precious shocks. I shiver into them. For to know that you want, that you can want – wanting being the fullest feeling, the only one that will ever ache the whole of you – is a rare and a magical thing. So, if you have had a want, understand it. Own it. Twist it into something real. Sam, I say, taking his hands in mine. I want my fur hat. Yes, sweetheart. Let's get you your fur hat. We walk together. Sam swings my arm in a game and he is chatting to me, freely, happily. It has been good. Good to have me along. He is mine again, now that Marcus has gone. When we reach the Fur District, Sam explains about wholesalers. A wholesaler means that no money is spent on the customer experience. The salesmen and women do not have to be nice to us. In fact, they may be rude. I can do rude, I say. We step down a dip and into a shop. It is dark and dusty. Bare mannequins loom in the window, arms bent into awkward angles as if engaged in timid dance. A man emerges from a basement place and asks what it is we want. We want a fur hat, Sam says. Fox, preferably. Pillbox. The man produces a wooden pole. He hooks down a series of hats that hang high on the wall: hats with stripy tails, hats that are dyed green and purple, fur-lined baseball caps of wrinkling brown leather. Not quite, Sam says. Something plainer, grander. In black. The man grunts. Nothing for you today. Try tomorrow. We fly tonight, Sam says. We will go elsewhere. Goodbye! I say. Thanks for all your help! We climb back on to the street and I am imagining my fur hat. I am imagining strutting through this city with my hat in my arms: black and fox and grand and soft. I will be a woman of great power, with my fur hat. A woman who does not care about cruelty. A woman who looks you in the eye and dares you – just dares you – to throw red paint. Maya Kulukundis Maya Kulukundis recently completed an MPhil in creative writing at the Oscar Wilde Centre. Her publications include stories in Banshee and the anthology Tidings (Lilliput Press, 2024). She was awarded an IWC Duo Mentorship in 2023 and was selected for the Stinging Fly six-month fiction workshop in 2024. She is working on a short story collection
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'Golden retriever' guys are out. It's a 'black cat boyfriend' summer.
Gone are the days of the golden retriever boyfriend. It's time for the rise of the black cat. We've seen years of praise for the doe-eyed boys who woo their partners with doting affections and a bubbly energy that would be over-the-top if not so endearing. But when Will Sharpe's character Felix showed up in Lena Dunham's 'Too Much,' he didn't fit that archetype. Alone in a London dive bar, Jess (Megan Stalter) looks up from her drink to listen to his band, ironically named 'Felix and the Feelers.' Felix dons a busted denim jacket, his pitch-black wavy hair falling just over his right eye. He doesn't fall at her feet — he charms her, maybe unintentionally, with wit, but pulls away before unveiling his emotional side. He's not the only leading man with a chip on his shoulder. More viewers are starting to root for the emotionally complex men, like Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) in 'The Bear,' over the happy-go-lucky 'golden retriever' guys. Look no further than Jenny Han's 'The Summer I Turned Pretty' fan-favorite character, Conrad. The brooding older brother was Belly's first love. His emotional unavailability eventually lends itself to heartbreak on both sides, and Belly starts to date his brother, Jeremiah, the irresponsible, smiley frat bro. Han has hinted that the show may differ from the books' ending, but vocal fans online have been rooting for Conrad's redemption arc. He pulled away from her because he couldn't handle the immensity of his emotions, be it love for Belly or grief over his mom's death. But the fact that he's in therapy this season, confronting his issues, makes him all the more compelling. On Netflix's "Ginny and Georgia," Ginny dates the sweet, popular boy, but doesn't feel a romantic spark. It's her connection with her introverted neighbor, Marcus, that takes center stage throughout the show's three seasons. He's initially introduced as a nonchalant "bad boy" type, but as the series progresses, viewers get to know his sensitive, caring side — while also watching him struggle with depression and self-destructive behaviors. Viewers resonated with the show's depiction of Marcus' depression. They're still rooting for the couple to end up together, just once Marcus is further along on his healing journey. "I'm a hopeless lover of Ginny and Marcus. Sue me," one Redditor wrote. Men aren't a monolith — both "black cats" and "golden retrievers" can be multidimensional. But it seems viewers are pining after the brooding heartthrobs now more than ever. "There's a desire to get beyond the mystery and see what lies within," says psychotherapist Amy Morin. "We might think they'd be willing to be vulnerable if they were in a trusting, healthy relationship. We want to see the walls come down so we can learn more about how they really feel." Seeing men be vulnerable is 'breaking the masculine code' In January, a video of Bad Bunny crying went viral after his song "DTMF" blew up on TikTok, and the moment opened up a conversation around masculinity and emotion. 'Bad Bunny signals to young men that it's not only acceptable, but also healthy to confront and express their feelings, which is something that men and young boys haven't been taught to do,' Sheldon Jacobs, a licensed therapist who serves on the National Alliance on Mental Illness Board of Directors, previously told USA TODAY. 'It's really pushing and challenging those cultural norms.' Mental health experts say it's crucial for young boys and men to understand the importance of showing emotion, which can contribute to building long-lasting relationships and overall mental wellness. 'It's breaking the masculine code, stepping out of the man box, and saying, 'Yeah, I'm vulnerable,'" said Ronald Levant, a professor emeritus of psychology at The University of Akron and co-author of 'The Problem with Men: Insights on Overcoming a Traumatic Childhood from a World-Renowned Psychologist." We've always had a soft spot for the elusive 'bad boy' It would be remiss to talk about pensive sadboys without paying tribute to those who paved the way: Jess from 'Gilmore Girls,' Lucas from 'One Tree Hill,' Chuck from 'Gossip Girl,' Craig and Eli in 'Degrassi: The Next Generation.' We've always had a soft spot for the troubled or quiet boy with a good heart, who feels too much that they attempt to shut down any feelings at all. Female leads have long had to choose between the elusive bad boy and the seemingly sensible choice. Take 'The Vampire Diaries,' for example. Stefan, a vampire too gentle to drink human blood, eventually loses Elena to his brother, Damon, the cruel killer with a tender side just for her. You can't always 'fix' emotionally unavailable men The new twisted rom-com, "Oh, Hi!," follows a young woman named Iris (Molly Gordon) who handcuffs her new beau, Isaac (Logan Lerman), to the bed during a remote romantic getaway after he says they're not exclusive. We get glimpses of Isaac's past throughout the film that help explain why he can't give up his heart. Still, the premise of the film is that Iris can convince him to want a real relationship. Morin says there's "a danger to romanticizing emotionally unavailable men." "There may be a desire to fix them or help them so that they can grow closer and become more trusting. But, in reality, they might prefer avoidance," she explains. "So while it sounds intriguing to pursue a mysterious man," she continues, "he just might not be emotionally available. And it's not your job to draw it out of him or change him." But sometimes the bad boy can be tamed. Chuck and Blair got married, Elena chose Damon, and () even Felix and Jessica find happiness. We'll have to wait and see if our new favorite "black cat boyfriend," Conrad, takes the girl home this fall. Maybe he'll even crack a smile for a change. Contributing: Rachel Hale, Patrick Ryan This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: What's a 'black cat boyfriend'? Meet the guys stealing our hearts Solve the daily Crossword
USA Today
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- USA Today
'Golden retriever' guys are out. It's a 'black cat boyfriend' summer.
Gone are the days of the golden retriever boyfriend. It's time for the rise of the black cat. We've seen years of praise for the doe-eyed boys who woo their partners with doting affections and a bubbly energy that would be over-the-top if not so endearing. But when Will Sharpe's character Felix showed up in Lena Dunham's 'Too Much,' he didn't fit that archetype. Alone in a London dive bar, Jess (Megan Stalter) looks up from her drink to listen to his band, ironically named 'Felix and the Feelers.' Felix dons a busted denim jacket, his pitch-black wavy hair falling just over his right eye. He doesn't fall at her feet — he charms her, maybe unintentionally, with wit, but pulls away before unveiling his emotional side. He's not the only leading man with a chip on his shoulder. More viewers are starting to root for the emotionally complex men, like Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) in 'The Bear,' over the happy-go-lucky 'golden retriever' guys. Look no further than Jenny Han's 'The Summer I Turned Pretty' fan-favorite character, Conrad. The brooding older brother was Belly's first love. His emotional unavailability eventually lends itself to heartbreak on both sides, and Belly starts to date his brother, Jeremiah, the irresponsible, smiley frat bro. Han has hinted that the show may differ from the books' ending, but vocal fans online have been rooting for Conrad's redemption arc. He pulled away from her because he couldn't handle the immensity of his emotions, be it love for Belly or grief over his mom's death. But the fact that he's in therapy this season, confronting his issues, makes him all the more compelling. On Netflix's "Ginny and Georgia," Ginny dates the sweet, popular boy, but doesn't feel a romantic spark. It's her connection with her introverted neighbor, Marcus, that takes center stage throughout the show's three seasons. He's initially introduced as a nonchalant "bad boy" type, but as the series progresses, viewers get to know his sensitive, caring side — while also watching him struggle with depression and self-destructive behaviors. Viewers resonated with the show's depiction of Marcus' depression. They're still rooting for the couple to end up together, just once Marcus is further along on his healing journey. "I'm a hopeless lover of Ginny and Marcus. Sue me," one Redditor wrote. Men aren't a monolith — both "black cats" and "golden retrievers" can be multidimensional. But it seems viewers are pining after the brooding heartthrobs now more than ever. "There's a desire to get beyond the mystery and see what lies within," says psychotherapist Amy Morin. "We might think they'd be willing to be vulnerable if they were in a trusting, healthy relationship. We want to see the walls come down so we can learn more about how they really feel." Seeing men be vulnerable is 'breaking the masculine code' In January, a video of Bad Bunny crying went viral after his song "DTMF" blew up on TikTok, and the moment opened up a conversation around masculinity and emotion. 'Bad Bunny signals to young men that it's not only acceptable, but also healthy to confront and express their feelings, which is something that men and young boys haven't been taught to do,' Sheldon Jacobs, a licensed therapist who serves on the National Alliance on Mental Illness Board of Directors, previously told USA TODAY. 'It's really pushing and challenging those cultural norms.' Mental health experts say it's crucial for young boys and men to understand the importance of showing emotion, which can contribute to building long-lasting relationships and overall mental wellness. 'It's breaking the masculine code, stepping out of the man box, and saying, 'Yeah, I'm vulnerable,'" said Ronald Levant, a professor emeritus of psychology at The University of Akron and co-author of 'The Problem with Men: Insights on Overcoming a Traumatic Childhood from a World-Renowned Psychologist." We've always had a soft spot for the elusive 'bad boy' It would be remiss to talk about pensive sadboys without paying tribute to those who paved the way: Jess from 'Gilmore Girls,' Lucas from 'One Tree Hill,' Chuck from 'Gossip Girl,' Craig and Eli in 'Degrassi: The Next Generation.' We've always had a soft spot for the troubled or quiet boy with a good heart, who feels too much that they attempt to shut down any feelings at all. Female leads have long had to choose between the elusive bad boy and the seemingly sensible choice. Take 'The Vampire Diaries,' for example. Stefan, a vampire too gentle to drink human blood, eventually loses Elena to his brother, Damon, the cruel killer with a tender side just for her. You can't always 'fix' emotionally unavailable men The new twisted rom-com, "Oh, Hi!," follows a young woman named Iris (Molly Gordon) who handcuffs her new beau, Isaac (Logan Lerman), to the bed during a remote romantic getaway after he says they're not exclusive. We get glimpses of Isaac's past throughout the film that help explain why he can't give up his heart. Still, the premise of the film is that Iris can convince him to want a real relationship. Morin says there's "a danger to romanticizing emotionally unavailable men." "There may be a desire to fix them or help them so that they can grow closer and become more trusting. But, in reality, they might prefer avoidance," she explains. "So while it sounds intriguing to pursue a mysterious man," she continues, "he just might not be emotionally available. And it's not your job to draw it out of him or change him." But sometimes the bad boy can be tamed. Chuck and Blair got married, Elena chose Damon, and ("Too Much" spoiler alert) even Felix and Jessica find happiness. We'll have to wait and see if our new favorite "black cat boyfriend," Conrad, takes the girl home this fall. Maybe he'll even crack a smile for a change. Contributing: Rachel Hale, Patrick Ryan
The Hill
2 days ago
- Politics
- The Hill
Maxwell demands immunity after subpoena from House Oversight Committee
An attorney for Ghislaine Maxwell said she would only speak with the House Oversight Committee if granted immunity — an idea the panel swiftly rejected. The panel last week subpoenaed Maxwell, an associate of Jeffrey Epstein, compelling her testimony amid demands on the Trump administration to release files from the financier who killed himself while awaiting trial on sex trafficking charges. Maxwell's attorney, David Oscar Marcus, noted that she has filed an appeal before the Supreme Court and her testimony to the committee could jeopardize efforts to overturn her 2021 conviction for sex trafficking children. 'As you know, Ms. Maxwell is actively pursuing post-conviction relief— both in a pending petition before the United States Supreme Court and in a forthcoming habeas petition. Any testimony she provides now could compromise her constitutional rights, prejudice her legal claims, and potentially taint a future jury pool,' Marcus wrote. 'Public reports—including your own statements—indicate that the Committee intends to question Ms. Maxwell in prison and without a grant of immunity. Those are non-starters. Ms. Maxwell cannot risk further criminal exposure in a politically charged environment without formal immunity.' A spokeswoman for the committee immediately ruled out any grant of immunity. 'The Oversight Committee will respond to Ms. Maxwell's attorney soon, but it will not consider granting congressional immunity for her testimony,' committee spokesperson Jessica Collins said in a statement. Marcus had said Maxwell would testify 'if a fair and safe path forward can be established.' Beyond a grant of immunity, Marcus also asked for questions to be shared in advance and for any deposition to take place after the Supreme Court weighs Maxwell's petition. 'To prepare adequately for any congressional deposition—and to ensure accuracy and fairness—we would require the Committee's questions in advance. This is essential not only to allow for meaningful preparation, but also to identify the relevant documentation from millions of pages that could corroborate her responses,' he wrote. The letter then made an indirect reference to a possible pardon, something Marcus has said he has not yet sought from Trump. 'Of course, in the alternative, if Ms. Maxwell were to receive clemency, she would be willing—and eager—to testify openly and honestly, in public, before Congress in Washington, D.C.,' Marcus wrote. House Oversight Democrats had backed the move from Rep. Tim Burchett (R-Tenn.) earlier this month to subpoena Maxwell. 'Oversight Democrats just unanimously voted to subpoena Ghislaine Maxwell, Jeffrey Epstein's partner,' House Oversight Democrats wrote on the social platform X after the vote. 'This is progress. We will not stop fighting until the Epstein Files are released. Trump and Bondi must stop blocking the American people from the truth.' Epstein ran with high-powered figures, including those in politics as well as President Trump. The Wall Street Journal reported that Attorney General Pam Bondi has told Trump that he is referenced in the Epstein files. Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche last week flew to Tallahassee, Fla., where Maxwell is serving her 20-year sentence, undertaking two days of questioning with her. 'This Department of Justice does not shy away from uncomfortable truths, nor from the responsibility to pursue justice wherever the facts may lead,' he said ahead of the meetings.
Western Telegraph
3 days ago
- Business
- Western Telegraph
West Wales dairy farmer breeds his way to better business
Breeding is the cheapest and most effective way to make permanent, long-term improvements to a wide cross-section of traits in dairy cows. Autumn milk producer Marcus Ferraro has historically only utilised milk recording to inform his drying off strategy but is now fully recording to build individual cow data and a herd genetic report. This will help identify 'passenger cows' in his 300-cow herd at Sychpant Farm, near Newcastle Emlyn, and allow him to breed from his best animals. Don't miss our next edition of Pembrokeshire Farmer, available free inside the Western Telegraph on July 30 During a recent AHDB strategic farm event at Sychpant Farm, farmers were told that Marcus was using breeding to transition the herd to a ProCross, a cow with a combination of Holstein, Montbeliarde and VikingRed genetics. Farm business consultant Anna Bowen, of The Andersons Centre, said the business is achieving considerable year-on-year improvements, making a comparable farm profit (CFP) of 14.58 pence per litre (ppl) in the year ending March 2025 - up 15.45ppl on the previous 12 months. This, she explained, had been helped by favourable market conditions but also by other actions, including more output per cow, up by an average of 837 litres/cow/year to 6,714, and an improvement in milk solids from 491kg/cow to 561kg. Milk is supplied to cheesemaker, Leprino. Making greater use of homegrown feed through actions such as measuring grass weekly and a greater focus on cow health, including through mobility scoring, had also reduced the farm's purchased feed and veterinary costs. The Ferraros farm 182ha (450 acres), of which 61ha (150 acres) are owned and form the grazing platform. Cows are wintered in sawdust-bedded cubicles and fed silage in central passageways but have access to pasture as soon as a pregnancy diagnosis confirms they are in calf. 'If it is dry and frosty they will be out in January to loaf and graze from February onwards,'' said Marcus, who farms with his wife, Vicki, and his father, Richard. Going forward, they have invested in weigh scales to regularly monitor heifers to ensure growth rates are on track to breed and calve at 24 months in the 12-week calving block. Despite improvements, Anna said there is further progress the business could make including the volume of milk produced from forage – currently 2,814 litres/cow/year. Steps taken so far to achieve this include mapping out paddocks for grazing, upgrading silage clamps, and increasing feed space at winter housing. Taking the guesswork out of genetics Many milk producers openly admit that genetics is a topic they struggle to get to grips with. AHDB genetics expert Victoria Ashmore said there are several actions farmers like Marcus can take to remove the guesswork from their breeding and management decisions, including genetically evaluating individual animals within the herd. Using milk recording data in combination with the levy-funded AHDB Dairy Herd Genetic Report service will provide a genetic evaluation on individual animals. The report will show where the herd's good genetics, and its weaknesses are, on traits like fertility or mastitis. 'The farm can then start to pinpoint more specifically their existing genetics and what they might need to do to improve these in the next generation,'' said Victoria. Sexed semen can simplify the route to genetic progress. Wider use of sexed semen means that dairy farms need to breed fewer animals to dairy sires to produce the required number of herd replacements. They can then be more specific on which cows they want to breed their next generation of milking cows from. 'This is where we really start to drill down into individual animals and rank the herd based firstly on the overall profit index but also the traits of interest so the next generation is being bred from the superior animals in the herd,'' Victoria explained. Genomics allow a broader genetic identification for each animal. Dairy farmers don't need to wait until a heifer calves and starts milking to establish her genetic merit as taking a DNA sample from her as a young animal will provide that. Using this information, certain heifers can be selected to breed future replacements that match a farm's own strategy. Breeding the best females will increase the genetic value of replacements and, as a consequence, fewer animals with a lower genetic merit will come into the herd.
