“Maria Bamford can slip in and out of different voices within the same sentence, not always so much depicting different characters as giving voices to the competing emotional impulses ping-ponging away inside most of us. Plenty of comedians would use a line like “I moved to Los Angeles, and I lost 10 pounds because they take away the food before you’re done,” but only Bamford can immediately follow it up with the waitress cheerily intoning “you’re done” and then slide into muted, goonish sobbing in a way that multiplies the effect of the joke. To take just one example from her other work, there’s a reason half of the background characters in Adventure Time are funny despite only getting a line or two, and that’s because Bamford is voicing them.”—My review of Maria Bamford’s excellent, excellent new album is up today at PopMatters. It’s the first time I’ve ever tried reviewing standup comedy, so I apologize if it’s a little… rudimentary. Don’t hold that against the album; I think Bamford is probably my favourite comedian working today and Ask Me About My New God! is fantastic.
sometimes i just, i dunno, i’m a trans woman, it’s not like i have my voice being listened to anywhere but in spaces that i don’t trust, to begin with, because they treat me like some kind of cute animal to coo over and trap in a cage because secretly they’re afraid of me or they think i’m a social fucking incompetent, like who i am makes me an invalid in need of their fucking coddles, namely all these “fannish” spaces so convinced they’re on the side of social good they’re blinded to their own consumerism, their own egotistical use of activist language to dress up the same ol’ same ol’ gate-keeping bullshit that male nerds perfected over the course of the ’80s and then just got a socially-conscious coat of paint in the ’00s and by god, did we all buy it hook, line and sinker, that putting our weight behind any brand at all would get our voices listened to, like we actually believed that they’d see us as anything but advantageous market share whose loyalty could be just as easily manipulated as anyone else’s; the truth is, for all the fucking talk, we voted with our fucking money and what we got was what we wanted and nobody wants to admit all the feminist language we use in the world to justify our choices and our silver-dollar loyalty won’t shine up this turd. this is the legacy of “feminist fandom”, sorry to say! the intermittent sleepy hollows and elementarys of the world don’t change that dcwomenkickingass is still a thing we all love/say we “need” for some reason, that the primary mode of dialogue isn’t “fix this shit” but “we don’t want to give it up”. that people talk about a major, corporate blockbuster like catching fire - funded and produced by megacorporate interests, focus-tested, your benevolent overlord-approved, kid-glove anarchy for the masses, THERE IS NOTHING SUBVERSIVE OR SITUATIONALLY CRITICAL HERE - in terms of being empowering, critical, meaningful … look at where the money goes! look at what they make! you want to talk about being “just like the capitol”????? this isn’t a fucking revolution, this is business as usual and you wanna celebrate it! because - fuck, i don’t know, jennifer lawrence, transphobe du jour, is in it????
maybe “but we want it” isn’t a fucking good enough excuse.
good god! everyone acts like it’s so fucking wrong to say “no”, when saying “no” is the only way i can trust my own voice for saying “yes”! when did that - and it’s the truth - become such a rude thing to point out that we shouldn’t?
All of this, and to further quote Tara (from a message, and I did ask before including it):
i’ve hit the point where i’m beyond discouraged w/ how many people think it’s ok to be consumerist w/o compensation for their compromises beyond the emotional gratification level and argue for its radical feminist self-ness or w/e and just ready to /not care/, unfortunately
it’s too easy not to think. it’s too easy to believe you’re too stressed not to think. it’s too easy to be impatient. it’s too easy to think you’re going to die too soon to care.
it’s too easy b/c too often, the people who think they might die too soon turn out to be right, and no one /does/ care.
nnnnngh. when did “escapism” start to mean “i wanna be part of a franchise”?
Shaking the Habitual didn’t make its length work for it the way, say, Swans’ The Seer did, but it was probably the album the Knife needed to make, and really only a few tracks felt aimless. Luckily they didn’t release those ones as singles. “Full of Fire” is the Swedish duo operating at full strength. There are few nine-minute abrasive, abstract synth jams that are this catchy and few songs this catchy of any length that so convincingly grapple with sonic and political abstraction. The Knife want to talk about gender, narratives, agency, permission, morals, desire, and much more besides. But as long as you’re participating, you might as well dance while you’re doing it.
It sounds like the most ecstatic kind of love song, but the singer’s admitted she wrote it about a partner who was too depressed to process or accept that someone loved them. Crucially, neither the song nor the singer blames that person. Clearly a much better solution is just to make the song sound like the opposite of the problem. Pop music has benefitted from that kind of deliberate confusion for decades, but rarely in a form this effervescent or with content this starkly contrasted. Of course, the first dozen or so times you hear “Somebody Loves You”, you could be forgiven for not noticing that. The chorus is just that good.
psa PLEASE STOP pretending Canada is a magical fairlyland utopia of equality and perfection and niceness just because we have gay marriage and health care and we say ‘sorry’ if we bump into someone in the street. It’s exactly because of this really popular stereotype that people get away with horrible things in our country, because no one acknowledges the existence of anything bad here.
Conclusion: Canada is Stepford, not the magical land in Adventure Time
There are a lot of people working very hard to get rid of what we have and turn Canada into America 2.0. Never forget that. Don’t take what we have for granted, and don’t act like there isn’t a huge, huge amount of room for improvement.
important (and, currently, relevant).
Bolding for extra emphasis mine; while there are many wonderful, wonderful Americans and a lot of good things in that country, no prizes for guessing that the ways they’re trying to make Canada more like America have nothing to do with any of that.
“the advertisers want anything you’re excited about. and if you’re somebody who can get excited about something, and make other people excited about something? they want you most of all.
and you’re giving yourself to them. for nothing.
these kids now need to get their head and their ass wired together. because - you’re responsible for the world around you. and you’re not making it better, you’re making it worse. you’re compounding the complicity between advertisers and massive websites.
you’re not helping music. you’re creating a greased-rail, fast-friend network of people who are so afraid to be alone that - they’ll immediately retweet everything you say so that they have something to do on thursday night.
be a little stronger, you know? be strong enough to be alone on a friday night.”—
Everybody who ever wondered why anyone listens to Chris Ott? You should really watch all twelve minutes of this. Even if you don’t agree with it (and I largely do) it’s an argument you’re going to have to come to grips with. The fact that nobody is really taking about this stuff is not a sign of health or sanity.
The Classical (Hex Enduction Hour, 1982) (Youtube)
PROBLEMATIC. For ages Hex Enduction Hour* was one of my favourite Fall albums, and this is one of my favourite opening bars. CLACK CLACK dung-ee-dumpa-dumb DAAA! Karl ‘Missing Link’ Burns and Paul ‘Not Steve’ Hanley bish-bashing their double drums, kicking off 60 minutes of brash, visceral anger, interspersed with the odd interlude of simmering contempt.
“The Classical” features a whole 30 seconds of brilliant boisterous banging before MES spoils it with a racial slur which I won’t repeat here. Goddammit, MES! I was enjoying that!
Obviously there is a context for its use in the song: MES is railing against tokenism and he doesn’t appear to hate people of colour any more than he hates everyone else, BUT it’s still possible to make a point about the oppressor in a way that doesn’t further harm the oppressed. MES has chosen instead to make everyone feel as oppressed as possible, except potentially Actual Racists who could mistake the intent and take it at face value. Things might have been different in 1982 but it’s still a shitty lyric. Motown Records certainly didn’t like it — the story goes that they were on the verge of signing a distribution deal with The Fall and Hex Enduction Hour was the only sample available for them to listen to. I am very glad I wasn’t in the room for that.
As a good poptimist I can usually separate a problematic creator from their creation (aka ‘The Gary Glitter Rule’), as long as the problems from the former don’t infect the latter (aka ‘The Chris Brown Rule’). But what if the work itself is the problem? Can I separate out 2 seconds of nastiness from 5 minutes of clattering joy as long as the intent is noble (if misguided)? Is my liberal white guilt overreacting? Is it a worthwhile piece of music to listen to, if only for the sake of reminding myself that awful shit like this still happens outside my cosy middle class privileged bubble? Is this even more cringing for me to write about on Tumblr than it is to listen to?
It’s not the only wince-inducing track on Hex Enduction Hour. I strongly advise against playing “Who Makes The Nazis?” to your nan, because it is despite it being extremely catchy. A chiming bassline like church bells, calling the ignorant cattle home. A dead-eyed zombie recruit, mindlessly repeating what he’s been told. A punch in the stomach when *that* line pops up, dear god I hope my headphones are 100% soundproof when this comes on shuffle on my morning commute.
And then there’s the closing track, “And This Day”. Its lyrics take second place behind ten minutes of deliberately abrasive, itchy, atonal squawking. I swear it’s like ringworm in musical form (and I adore it!), but bloody hell, I wish I hadn’t googled to double check that it was slur-free. SADFACE. But does it count if you’ve got no ears left to hear it with?
I’m sure the MES of 1982 would be immensely satisfied with all this hand-wringing of mine. Hex Enduction Hour is intended to get under your skin and cause problems, and in that it certainly succeeds.
*Grumpy Other Half put our copy in into the CD player to check if it was actually an hour, but it was the remastered version with bonus tracks on it. So I added up all the durations on Spotify and it comes out at 60:18. Don’t say I never do anything for you!
This has been a Quite Good OWOB on a difficult topic, and as someone who has roughly the same reaction to “The Classical” and the other bits of Hex Enduction Hour mentioned here, it’s very nice indeed to see someone tackling the problems of what otherwise could be the Fall’s greatest album and similarly left wondering (and I don’t think I even noticed the one in “And This Day,” uggghhhh). For fuck’s sake MES, you piece of shit, it’s not like every single other Fall album is studded with slurs like this. (I mean, that I’ve noticed. Oh god, be right back, looking up all of the Fall’s lyrics and preparing to cringe…)
being insulted for our choices doesn’t make us want to change our choices. it’s time to start a real conversation about what makes us value ‘cheap useless shit’ IN ORDER TO satisfy our friends and families, rather than lampooning an entire stratum of people for believing that only by engaging in frenzied commerce can they make their families happy.
okay, whatever happened to tightening our belts at christmas? whatever happened to privileging love and togetherness when we can’t put the pennies together to get big gifts? but i don’t blame individuals for feeling unable to make that mental switch, i really don’t.
the entire presentation of the christmas season focuses on “getting a good deal” rather than helping people find alternatives to big ticket gift giving. black friday seems like a reasonable solution to these problems for a lot of people, and i refuse to judge them for that.
i hold people accountable for what they do in the name of christmas commerce. it’s not okay to hurt each other or throw TVs or steal. but i can’t change what others do. so i hold myself accountable for what i say about others.
i am a participant in capitalist, gift-giving, commercial culture. i benefit from it. i make enough money not to have to go to a store at 5 am to get the gift my fiance wants. other people don’t have that luxury, and they are truly raised to believe that if they don’t get that tablet or laptop, they are bad parents and spouses. i CANNOT believe that that mindset is their fault.
I feel the best way to ever describe now what cultural appropriation is would be to ask someone to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas and watch how Santa Claus reacts to Jack Skellington’s version of Christmas and how Jack overall reacts and exploits the Christmas season.
Jack, having explored all aspects of his own Halloween culture, discovers a door that leads to Christmas Town. While the audience has a sense of what Christmas is about and comprehends what the symbols might mean, Jack doesn’t. He is a complete stranger in this world and attempts through nothing but visual clues and behavioral observation tries to come to an understanding of what Christmas is.
This is all good and dandy, but Jack’s actions do nothing but exploit Christmas. Jack seeks to go about and unleash his selfish desires to explore Christmas and take charge of it. His studies of Christmas do not explain why Christmas happens or what it really represents to people who are affected by Christmas because he never really takes the time to discuss Christmas with anyone affected by the holiday until Oogie Boogie nearly eats Santa Claus. Jack’s desires only exist to further what he wants to accomplish with Christmas. As a result, Christmas is not accurately represented. Dolls that are mashed with Halloween haunts and ghouls do not fuse well with the upbeat and cheery nature of Christmas. These monstrosities rather illustrate that Jack’s interpretation of Christmas is not accurate They can even destroy Christmas as seen when reporters are warning Christmas may never happen again. Ultimately, Jack acquired faulty information when he studied Christmas and unleashed a product totally not representative of what Christmas actually intended to convey.
Now Santa Claus is not downright dismissive and saying Jack can’t learn and appreciate the Christmas culture as Santa comes back with snow at the end to spread over Halloween Town. However, Santa warns Jack to leave Christmas with those who get it as he himself leaves Halloween to Jack. It is totally acceptable to appreciate cultures different from your own as long as you recognize you have no real control or influence in determining what that culture represents.
The Nightmare Before Christmas may not have intended to, but it did provide an insight into what cultural appropriation may actually be. Appropriation and appreciation are two totally different concepts and while not everyone can fully immerse themselves in some cultures, we are able to accept the snowflakes and their differences without exploiting them for our own gain.
I would like to state that I am myself an ally to many different groups or at least attempt to be one. I am not perfect in understanding cultural appropriation because I am myself an outsider looking in on others. However, from what I’ve witnessed, I feel this idea can at least shed some light on the matter and possibly could be fleshed out more by those who are affected by cultural appropriation more than myself if they so seek to discuss my views presented in this post. At any rate, I am very willing to discuss this matter if anyone would like to do so.
I found this really interesting and a great way to make a difficult and important subject matter a bit easier to understand. Very interesting choice in explaining but it definitely made sense. Good stuff.
I watched this movie just last night and I was literally thinking this EXACT same thing. Wow. Thanks Tumblr.
“There’s not much difference between creative and critical thought. They’re both about asking questions.”—Josie Long, The Inifinite Monkey Cage @ the Science Museum, July 29th 2013 (via saxifraga-x-urbium)
I’m usually hesitant to celebrate Thanksgiving Day. After all, the Puritans of the Massachusetts Bay Colony systematically terrorized and slaughtered the very same Pequot tribe that assisted the first English refugees to arrive at Plymouth Rock. So, perhaps ironically, I’m thankful that I know that, and I’m also thankful that there are people who seek out, and usually find, such truths. I’m thankful for people who, even surrounded by millions of Americans eating turkey during regularly scheduled commercial breaks in the Green Bay and Detroit football game; who, despite having been taught, often as early as five and six years old, that the “helpful natives” selflessly assisted the “poor helpless Pilgrims” and lived happily ever after, dare to ask probing, even dangerous, questions.
Such people are often nameless and humble, yet no less courageous. Whether carpenters of welders; retail clerks or bank managers; artists or lawyers, they dare to ask tough questions, and seek out the truth, even when the answers they find might not be easy to live with.
I’m also grateful for having social and human justice pioneers who lead through action, and by example, as opposed to directing or commanding other people to take action. Often, the achievements of such people transcend political, cultural, and generational boundaries. Unfortunately, such remarkable people often risk their reputations, their livelihood, and, all too often, even their lives.
For instance, the man commonly known as Malcolm X began to openly embrace the idea, after an awakening during his travels to the Middle East and Africa, of an international and unifying effort to achieve equality, and was murdered after a tough, yearlong defection from the Nation of Islam. Martin Luther King Jr., after choosing to embrace the struggles of striking sanitation workers in Memphis over lobbying in Washington, D.C., was murdered by an escaped convict seeking fame and respect from white Southerners. Harvey Milk, the first openly gay politician in the U.S., was murdered by a jealous former colleague. These are only examples; I wouldn’t dare to make a claim that they represent an exhaustive list of remarkable pioneers of social justice and equality—certainly many if not the vast majority are unsung and, sadly, forgotten.
So, this year, and every year, I’m thankful for such people, and I’m thankful that one day—perhaps not tomorrow—because of the accomplishments of such truth-seekers and human rights pioneers, we can live together on this tiny “pale blue dot” of a planet and stop looking inward, at each other, but rather outward, into the space beyond this planet and the future of all of humanity.
“In one version of the philosophy of the self, we all operate at some point on a line between the twin poles of episodicism and narrativism. The distinction is existential, not moral. Episodicists feel and see little connection between the different parts of their life, have a more fragmentary sense of self, and tend not to believe in the concept of free will. Narrativists feel and see constant connectivity, an enduring self, and acknowledge free will as the instrument which forges their self and their connectedness. Narrativists feel responsibility for their actions and guilt over their failures; episodicists think that one thing happens, and then another thing happens.
Not surprisingly, narrativists tend to find episodicists selfish and irresponsible; while episodicists tend to find narrativists boring and bourgeois. Happily (or confusingly), in most of us these tendencies overlap.”—
“Ancient moon priestesses were called virgins. ‘Virgin’ meant not married, not belong to a man-a woman who was ‘one-in-herself.’ The very word derives from a Latin root meaning strength, force, skill; and was later applied to men: virle. Ishtar, Diana, Astarte, Isis were all all called virgin, which did not refer to sexual chasity, but sexual independence. And all great culture heroes of the past…, mythic or historic, were said to be born of virgin mothers: Marduk, Gilgamesh, Buddha, Osiris, Dionysus, Genghis Khan, Jesus-they were all affirmed as sons of the Great Mother, of the Original One, their worldly power deriving from her. When the Hebrews used the word, and in the original Aramatic, it meant ‘maiden’ or ‘young woman’, with no connotations to sexual chasity. But later Christian translators could not conceive of the ‘Virgin Mary’ as a woman of independent sexuality, needless to say; they distorted the meaning into sexually pure, chaste, never touched. When Joan of Arc, with her witch coven associations, was called La Pucelle-‘the Maiden,’ ‘the Virgin’ - the word retained some of its original pagan sense of a strong and independent woman. The Moon Goddess was worshipped in orgiastic rites, being the divinity of matriarchal women free to take as many lovers as they choose. Women could ‘surrender’ themselves to the Goddess by making love to a stranger in her temple.”—
I think bill maher said it best when he mentioned the fact that racism, as a social problem, is secondary only to classism. Your blog reflects a healthy resentment of the poverty minorities are forced to deal with in this country. However, your anger is directed at the wrong group. You talk about white ppl as if they are all to blame, when in reality, its a select few at the top who manipulate the opinion of others for their own purposeYou really think they care about race? Its all about money.
(Remember, you had at least two choices…more on that later)
What is it about needing the special exemption though? No…Seriously?
Look, I’m not a woman, and I follow and interact with a number of women and feminist bloggers. Never, again, never have I been overwhelmed with the need to say, “well, you know, not all men are like that” (because I’m not a fucking loser MRA)
I’m not an atheist or a Muslim, but I follow, reblog and interact with quite a few non-religious/atheist bloggers…not once have I ever been overcome by the urge to say something like, “hey! not all Christians are like that!”
And I’m not gay, but I follow and/or reblog any number of LGBTQ bloggers or issues…AGAIN, I don’t ever feel the need to say, “you do know not all straight people are like that, right?”
In fact, when members of each of these minority/oppressed/marginalized groups makes a good post about their opinions or oppressors—even if it’s indirectly about me as a straight guy—I just check to see if I do any of what they’re talking about (because I don’t wanna be a shit guy), and then I just say “damn right” and reblog it. And I manage to do so without asking for a special exemption and without pointing out that “not all of us are like that”
All of the groups I’ve mentioned face very real and demoralizing oppression every day…I don’t post about their issues nearly often enough, but I wouldn’t ever dream about even remotely suggesting they take it down a notch because I’m “not like that” or because all of [fill in the blank] don’t hate or oppress them
I imagine that quite a few of my followers are White and I presume most of them are smart enough to figure out when I mean every single living White person and when I do not. But here’s the important thing: any member of an oppressor class possesses and benefits from privilege. It is not my job to pamper them and make them feel comfy about that privilege with my every post. It’s not my job to help anyone possessing privilege to pretend that said privilege doesn’t exist and that said privilege is not harmful. I am seriously not here for that crap
Of all the privileges there are, I do not believe that any of them allows a person to imagine pretend that they “aren’t like that” more than White/Male privilege
Sometimes, even if you’re a “good guy” member of an oppressor class, chances are you are doing or have done/said/thought/believed or observed one or more of the things that oppressed persons are blogging about. Nobody is a perfect angel. No one. (same for men/cis/religious/straight/etc.) So, no matter how good or how nice a White person may think are, it takes constant reflection to be “not like that” Because that’s how ubiquitous White privilege and racism are
Just as no man, myself included, isn’t “not sexist” by default, so too is no White person “not racist” by default. We are all spoon fed sexism and racism from day one. And even if they have attained a state of being “not racist” no White person remains that way forever and ever and ever without working at maintaining that state of being “not racist”
And just being “not racist” isn’t good enough. Not by a long shot. Because even if racism disappeared overnight, how long do you think it would take to tear down the system of structural privileges that it took several hundreds of years to build? Unless you could somehow also overnight redistribute all the denied housing, all of the stolen wealth, all the jobs denied due to discrimination and racial bias, all of the unearned promotions, 99% of Hollywood castings & awards, almost all non-inclusive known “great” literature, all of the past racially biased imprisonments and executions and lynchings that have permanently broken up and negatively impacted Black families…unless you can also undo all of that plus a whooole myriad of other things, just being “not racist” does not magically fix everything. Because the house that racism built has as much inertia and momentum as any physical object. We did not undo 400yrs of racism in 50yrs and we certainly can’t undo it by under representing the number of racists, racism deniers and racism enablers by saying, “except for YOU” with every utterance about racism
I’m Black. I won’t abide that kind of silencing/derailing/message-diversion
And you said, “You talk about white ppl as if they are all to blame, when in reality, its a select few…”
NO. Wrong. Absolutely wrong. What—is it only 10 White people who are TRULY racist and “controlling” all the others? Or is it only 100…or 1,000? No. That line of thinking is a complete free pass that allows too many White people to pretend or imagine it’s always the other guy and never them doing or saying racist things…that it’s “only a select few” and everyone else is 100% pristine and racism-free. Nope. Sorry, but that is complete and utter bullshit and perpetuating the false narrative that only a tiny little thimble full of White people are racist only leads to THIS kind of foolishness, more derailing and turns an extremely blind eye to non-inclusion discrimination like THIS. Sorry, but I’m not a member of team #ItsNeverAboutRacism
Look…I could really go on and on, but I’m not hardly trying to write a book here
You had at least two choices: Please…instead of investing time/energy telling a Black person that their anger is misplaced and that not ~*all*~ White people are racists (as if I didn’t know that) why not instead find a racist blogger—Tumblr is littered with them, I assure you—and tell them about their misplaced anger, and that all Black people are not the way they view them? You had that choice, but it’s always very telling which of the two groups people decide to use their agency to try to correct
SN: Maher is often hit and miss and is problematic on other levels, but it’s funny (and by funny, I mean extremely telling) that your go-to person, the person you quoted—on matters of racism and class—is a WEALTHY, OLD WHITE MAN
“There’s so much hue and cry about the diminishing opportunities for those who were previously part of the middle class – as if a problem only matters when it happens to folks who had better things in mind. But for some people this has always been their mode of living, their understanding of the world. When we hold out the promise of a better life as the result of higher education, not everyone can believe in that promise. When pundits bemoan the “high expectations” of an entire generation, they’re forgetting that not everyone had the expectation of magical prosperity either from education or anything else. If we took loans, it wasn’t because we truly believed we could repay them; it was because we saw no other option, because we were told our chances of survival were even lower without the coveted Bachelor’s degree. It was because not having a degree was presented a threat to our future employability, and the fear of debt was overshadowed by the fear of other forms of uncertainty. That doesn’t feel like a “choice” – it feels like coercion, and it’s something we need to start thinking about when we engage in debates about policy and accessibility.”—Melonie Fullick, “Poor Choices” (via quirksintech)
I left Doctor Who because I could not get along with the senior people. I left because of politics. I did not see eye-to-eye with them. I didn’t agree with the way things were being run. I didn’t like the culture that had grown up, around the series. So I left, I felt, over a principle.
I thought to remain, which would have made me a lot of money and given me huge visibility, the price I would have had to pay was to eat a lot of shit. I’m not being funny about that. I didn’t want to do that and it comes to the art of it, in a way. I feel that if you run your career and– we are vulnerable as actors and we are constantly humiliating ourselves auditioning. But if you allow that to go on, on a grand scale you will lose whatever it is about you and it will be present in your work.
If you allow your desire to be successful and visible and financially secure – if you allow that to make you throw shades on your parents, on your upbringing, then you’re knackered. You’ve got to keep something back, for yourself, because it’ll be present in your work. A purity or an idealism is essential or you’ll become– you’ve got to have standards, no matter how hard work that is. So it makes it a hard road, really.
You know, it’s easy to find a job when you’ve got no morals, you’ve got nothing to be compromised, you can go, ‘Yeah, yeah. That doesn’t matter. That director can bully that prop man and I won’t say anything about it’. But then when that director comes to you and says ‘I think you should play it like this’ you’ve surely got to go ‘How can I respect you, when you behave like that?’
So, that’s why I left. My face didn’t fit and I’m sure they were glad to see the back of me. The important thing is that I succeeded. It was a great part. I loved playing him. I loved connecting with that audience. Because I’ve always acted for adults and then suddenly you’re acting for children, who are far more tasteful; they will not be bullshitted. It’s either good, or it’s bad. They don’t schmooze at after-show parties, with cocktails.
This is the county I grew up in, and of which I’m still a resident. I went to high school very close to where this cyclist was hit, and I ride these roads if I’m visiting my parents.
This is disgusting. It sets a terrifying precedent for road usage in Anne Arundel County and in Maryland.
I don’t particularly care if you hate cyclists because you believe they’re irresponsible assholes that run red lights but expect to be able to use roads like cars. I don’t care if you believe that individual cyclists should suffer the consequences of their peers’ actions, including potential injury or death. (I’ve heard this line of argument before.) I don’t. I absolutely don’t. I wish I knew the number of times I performed an illegal maneuver while driving—speeding, turning without a turn signal, u-turning, blowing stop signs, maybe driving after more beers than I should have. Every mode has its assholes. Every mode has users that are too cavalier with the way they get around.
I do care that a body of responsible, taxpaying, presumably socially conscious adults decided that the consequence for taking someone’s life in Anne Arundel County is four traffic tickets. The driver who struck and killed this cyclist passed another driver while ascending a hill. When the killer-driver realized there was oncoming traffic, she swerved back into her lane, striking and killing Trish Cunningham—who was occupying space she was legally entitled to occupy.
That’s not an accident. That’s a gross abuse of the privilege of driving a 4,000-pound metal object. Every time I passed on a curve or a hill, I remembered that driver’s ed drilled into my head that I shouldn’t pass on a curve or a hill, because of the off-chance of oncoming traffic, and I did it anyway. (I told you, I was an unsafe driver. So are you, likely—or at least, you take liberties that push the envelope of legality and safety when behind the wheel.)
The off-chance was the reality in this crash, and it cost someone their life. It’s chilling. We all have a right to access and use roads. Cyclists and pedestrians are vulnerable road users. Just like drivers, they can take tremendously stupid and damaging actions. But they aren’t incased in glass and steel and don’t move in terms of horsepower. I’ve hit a car with my bike and I bounced off its bumper. I’ve tapped a car while parallel parking (so, moving at sub-five miles per hour) and crumpled its bumper. Motor vehicles have the ability to damage, maim, harm, and kill in a way that few others do.
I have driven, distracted and irresponsibly, on the road Cunningham was killed on; I know how swift the transition from cautious city-dwelling bike-advocate driver to suburban-grown windshield-blinded driver can be. But this is egregious. This could have set a precedent for criminally negligent manslaughter for vulnerable road users. Instead, Anne Arundel County has—and could likely continue to—measure lives in tickets.
Reblog if you want, but I will not discuss this further.
do you ever cook something in the microwave but it’s still really cold in the middle and you just keep eating it instead of heating it longer because life is pointless and entropy is unavoidable and the universe is filled with callous and casual destruction
“People want to believe gender is something that’s essential, and people repeat these essentialist ideas all the time. “Oh, women do that” and “Oh, men do that” and the reality is that all women don’t anything. We as individuals do what we do, you know, and sometimes that’s informed by gender and sometimes it’s just who we are. And I think all that just makes people really, really uncomfortable because they don’t want to think about who they are.”—Laverne Cox (via lucrezialoveshercesare)
Like being told your £30,000 debt and nights spent angstily poring over chemical formulas mean you’re a reasonably strong contender for a job in Subway is somehow comparable to getting your first period or some pencil-case-graffiti teen heartbreak.
It’s not that you don’t want the job in Subway- of course you fucking do because otherwise you might starve and die or have to live on your parents’ settee again -an unbearable indignity of kindness by these people who well-meaningly had such high hopes for you.
It’s not the job- if the last five years have taught you anything it’s that you bloody love sandwiches but you wish they hadn’t lied. It’s embarassing, adults. Not even angry, just massively disappointed. Ok and a bit angry.
And some of your friends don’t seem to have the difficulty you have in reconciling that- best days of their lives! Reunions, everyone! School photos on Facebook. Remember how we were? But you can’t turn off the perception of causality between then and the now and you feel better about the now, even if it’s ostensibly shittier.
Of course, sometimes you never do anything with that niche again. Your special powers have been turned off by the ‘reality’ that’s pushed on not-quite-everyone by a small percentage of super-powerful and fairly fucked up people. Ah, mutants; I don’t know if you’ve heard but they’re kind of a metaphor.
First, sex positivity is not for you or men like you. Sex positivity is for marginalised groups to reclaim their sexuality. We live in a society that caters to your desires, and creates crushing stereotypes for everyone else that gets us violently sexually assaulted and killed. I first have to make it clear the critique to be made of porn is solely political, not moral grounds. Sex is not wrong, or nasty, or shameful, or dirty. Sexual desires are not immoral. The eroticisation (as found in sexual cultures such as BDSM) of systems of domination and submission is not morally wrong. Telling sex workers they are “morally wrong” or “dirty” is sexist as fuck. What I’m saying is that you cannot ignore the abuse of women within the sex industry.
That is what is happening under the umbrella of sex positivity. An individual’s ‘agency’ trumps social factors/impacts. This immediately frames the debate in individual terms, isolated from any greater ideology or impact. But in terms of your individual, private, sex life, is it really fair to say that, for example, pornography is something that is individual and private? Or would it be fair to say that pornography is a cultural, social phenomenon that exists as it does today within a particular framework of domination, subordination, sexism, and violence? I think we could all agree that pornography has influenced our perceptions of women and of men, of femininity and masculinity and, of course, of sex and sexuality, as a society, as well as individuals. Turning this into a conversation about individual likes and dislikes completely misses the point.
Aamna, addressing a man on the porn industry and sex positivity (via maarnayeri)
Some of my favorite figures are figures of time: anachronism, prolepsis, hysteron proteron.
My favorite thing that figures do is when figures not necessarily of time begin to have to do with time, as any of them might do but these are the ones I oftenist catch at temporal funnybusiness: ekphrasis, zeugma, metalepsis, prosopopoeia, the three pun sisters antanaclasis, paronomasia, and syllepsis.
But my very favorite figures are figures oftenist accused of solecism*: catachresis, metalepsis, and: all figures of time. I feel protective of them, guard them close with one hand while the other waves the double-edged sword of rhetoric and hermeneutics: stand off, you fools, don’t you understand that these are the true heart of our language, these movements that bring into uneasy intimacy far-fetched things, these little machines for registering what no literal language ever could, these, these here are the life of our language, and they are what makes possible our being in the world and in timeand in language.
* (At one point or another, any figure will find itself accused of solecism. This is reason enough for my defensive ardor.)
i am reblogging this because it is pretty but mostly for the opportunity to quote one of l.e.j. brouwer’s cambridge lectures at you, on the first act of intuitionism being the perception of a move of time:
This perception of a move of time may be described as the falling apart of a life moment into two distinct things, one of which gives way to the other, but is retained by memory. If the twoity thus born is divested of all quality, it passes into the empty form of the common substratum of all twoities. And it is this common substratum, this empty form, which is the basic intuition of mathematics.
“And the changes aren’t always unambiguously positive. Staples talked about how “we were trying so hard to be loose” about their cover of Odyssey’s “If You’re Looking for a Way Out”, originally on 1999’s Simple Pleasure, and the version here is definitely looser. There’s a palpable joy in Staples’ performance now, it’s less strained and anguished. There are ways that it’s a better vocal, and he definitely sounds more comfortable with his performance. But given the subject matter of the song, the fact that the earlier version sounded more like a man going out of his comfort zone actually works in its favour. This version is lovely to have, and it would be odd to begrudge that wonderful sense of joy in performance it has, but it doesn’t supplant the original for exactly that reason.”—Also today I spend about a thousand words wrestling with Tindersticks’ new record Across Six Leap Years, where they re-record some great songs (and do a good job of it) and yet the end result is kind of just… there. I love Tindersticks; it took me a while to come to grips with the album.
“From there things go up and up, at least for a while; the narcotic hum of the organ on “Walkin’ With Jesus” (which gave the previous album its name despite being saved for this one) is practically beatific, while the lyrics exhibit flashes of the same kind of mid-hit mindset John Darnielle would nail so precisely on the Mountain Goats’ great “Quito.” The Lou Reed homage “Ode to Street Hassle” is if anything calmer, bridging the gap to the permanent high of “Ecstasy Symphony/Transparent Radiation (Flashback)” with a rollicking little melody and Kember’s plainspoken monologue. The latter track marries a gorgeous Red Krayola cover, sung with hushed devotion by Kember, with a glacially beautiful drone piece that’s almost a mood-altering substance in itself. As that ebbs away, we’re left with the murmured coos and faraway saxophone drone of “Feel So Good”; the album itself is so high by this point it can’t be reached, an endless, helpless high where you can’t move anymore and you don’t care. Time dilates into an featureless sameness and as long as it feels like this, well, that’s just fine.
Naturally enough, for the denouement we come down hard. The title of “Things’ll Never Be the Same” refers not to some sort of mind-expanding experience but the squalid, desperate search for the purity of your first hit; for the first time since the opener the frazzled, bad-vibe feedback has returned, curdling the mood and not even having the decency to achieve catharsis for minutes on end. There’s a savage, bitter sarcasm in Pierce’s vocals as he talks about putting some love deep in our veins. The air has cleared a bit for the folk blues of “Come Down Easy,” modelled after Dylan’s version of “In My Time of Dying.” “1987, all I wanna do is fly…” but it’s a free-fall (and the narrator knows it); the closing, mournful “Call the Doctor” depicts at best an arrest, at worst a death. Kember and Pierce would never work together like this again; Sound of Confusion was more a genre exercise than anything else, but this is harrowing and exultant in turn, mordantly funny and bleakly depressing; an absolute classic.”—Putting a numerical rating on records is weird; when you’re doing so, giving a record a perfect rating is kind of even weirder. Spacemen 3’s The Perfect Prescription is (in my opinion) one of the greatest records ever made by a rock band, though, so that was a lot easier. Today my review/mini-essay on the reissues of their first three albums is up at PopMatters. I think/hope I did okay by them.