#I hate that people look up to me- like folks I’m literally just insanely privileged and the system was built for people like me

[thecheshirerat]

See the thing is, everyone wants to be Good at Life. But the second you become Good at Life, you are immediately the least relatable person to ever exist.

[annecoulmanross]

Thoughts on “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), aka, “I listened to the Doctor Who audio drama episodes about the lost Franklin Expedition so that you don’t have to!”

Alright terror-friends, this was not how I expected to spend my day, but I have now listened to all eight episodes of the 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama series “Terror of the Arctic,” featuring all of the ~ familiar ~ icy ~ boys ~ meeting the infamous Doctor. 

With arguably more horrifying sexist/racist content than the 2007 Simmons novel, this audio drama actually predicted a lot of the tropes that Simmons popularized, including ship-board conflicts that escalate to stabbings, the appearance of supernatural creatures from Inuit oral traditions, and even a squick-y romance between Crozier and a much younger Inuit woman. 

To clarify, I do not recommend you listen to these episodes. They’re a hot mess, and a really jarring departure from the beauty of The Terror (2018). 

HOWEVER I highly recommend you look below the cut for episode-by-episode notes about the first Franklin Expedition adaptation that has well and truly driven me up the wall. So, welcome to the world of “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), featuring:

Crozier, (pronounced "Crow-zee-eyy,”) a polite door-mat of a captain with an agonizing lack of snark and minimal personality beyond “the only white man who can magically fix racism.” 

Fitzjames the “proper English officer” who has every prejudice you can imagine – and a couple more you can’t. 

Le Vesconte, the irrepressible lad with an inexplicable American accent and extreme boy-scout-gone-crazy energy. 

Sgt. Tozer, who has a bad habit of punching people in the face even though his superior officers haven’t yet told him he’s allowed to do so. 

Also featuring: Cybernetic Tuunbaq aliens! Complete breakdown of shipboard protocol! Expected amounts of cannibalism! And more! (spoilers, obviously) 

Episode 1

– We start with a mandatory brief appearance from the Doctor and his companion Christine. I don’t (initially) hate this iteration of the Doctor – he’s very paternalistic and old-fashioned, but at least the voice actor’s competent. Christine’s voice, tragically, is high-pitched beyond all reason and laced with a variety of odd dialectical features. Some quick research reveals she’s supposed to be a 15 year old from medieval England. She sounds neither like a teenager nor a medieval person. From the very beginning, her character seems very infantilized, and plays into a lot of the Born Sexy Yesterday tropes, even if she and the Doctor aren’t a thing. 

– Next, we have Sir John Franklin giving the “we’ve been stuck in the ice for nine months, here’s what you missed” sum-up. 

– Sir John’s voice is gravelly 👏 as 👏 fuck; also, I don’t think that the phrase “to sugar-coat it” was a common 1840s expression? Correct me if I’m wrong history folks.

– Crozier shows up to give his “we should start walking out now” speech, minus any passion or conviction whatsoever; he bends immediately to Franklin’s whims. Crozier’s voice is quite high-pitched, and Sir John pronounces his name “Crow-zee-eyy.” (Update: everyone pronounces it this way!!! Uhmmm!) Though I struggle to judge accents, Crozier’s Irish accent sounds... leprechaun-ish. It’s not Jared Harris by a long mile. 

– Not gonna lie, I kind of love how much Fitzjames sounds like a posh bastard. He immediately gets into a one-sided shouting match with Crozier and has to be reprimanded by Franklin. 

– Lieutenant Irving appears on the scene; I don’t know what Irving’s accent is, but it sure is something.

– All of the officers seem to currently be on the same ship for some reason but I don’t know why. We’ve met Sir John, Crozier, Fitzy, and Irving, and Gore’s been mentioned, as have doctors Peddie and Stanley. And they’re all in the same boat. Guess we’re just ignoring Terror for now? 

– Franklin begins narrating as he writes in the log-book: “11th June, 1847.” Oh BOY guess what day it is!!

– RIP Franklin (surprise, surprise). We have no real idea yet how this has happened. 

– Fitzjames, talking to Sir John’s mysterious corpse: “Captain, what could have done this to you?” 

– Fitzjames: “We have a killer loose on this ship” (Fitz gets ALL the best lines, apparently. Do they make sense? No. Are they hilarious? Yes.)

– Irving is shockingly nonchalant when the Doctor and Christine appear from nowhere out on the ice. Why is Irving so chill when he thinks that these two people are the lone survivors of a DIFFERENT failed expedition?

– Fitz apparently has refused to let Crozier start the walk-out after Franklin died. (Um, that’s not how the chain of command works?)  

– We learn that Beechey-boy Braine apparently died of sudden-onset-scurvy. What is sudden-onset-scurvy, you ask? We do not yet know. 

– Irving, happily describing their recent course of action: “...Ignoring the advice of our ships’ ice masters...” Oh god Irving don’t sound so happy about that. Blanky’s going to take an ice-axe to your head. (Tragically, Blanky does not appear in this show.) 

– Lieutenant Gore has ALSO died of sudden-onset-scurvy. RIP Graham Gore.

– Is the Doctor going to focus on the existence of sudden-onset-scurvy? No, we’re gonna hyperfixate on the high officers-to-crew death rate! And he’s going to infodump about officers’ privileges TO Irving, an officer, and muse about how odd it is that more officers than crew are dying when the officers get all the best food! 

– Fitz, the “proper English officer” apparently has managed to get about half the men to refuse to follow the orders of their expedition commander, because he happens to be Irish. Babe, this is a really bad look!

– Irving, our good Christian Irving, just swore “By Jove” in a weirdly sexy voice.

– Tozer has Extreme Deep Voice.

– Irving: “There’s something odd about them I just don’t trust.” Why on earth wouldn’t you trust two strangers who wandered up to you on the ice and asked if you were “human,” John Irving? What’s “odd” about that?

– The Doctor only remembers that he does actually know the events of the Franklin expedition after he reads the entire Victory Point Note. 

– Irving has suddenly decided to threaten to shoot the Doctor and his companion. Irving promptly gets attacked. 

* jarring transition to triumphant Doctor Who music *

Episode 2

– The ~mysterious~ attack on Irving has left weird wounds on Irving’s neck. I’m calling it, Ice Vampires!

– We have an Edward Little appearance! His voice is so sweet and gentle! And then... “I’ll have Sergeant Tozer shoot you both where you stand!” Okay, maybe not... (Update: Little is, in fact, very awful to several people. As we will see, all of the lieutenants and marines swing between weirdly nonchalant dudes and trigger-happy maniacs.) 

– Tozer just punched the Doctor’s lights out, unprompted. 

– Crozier: “Good old John Peddie... he’s like a brother to me.” Well THAT’S not a friendship I expected.

– So Dr. Peddie has brought a young Inuit woman in to Crozier’s cabin to have a “lovely chat.” Awkward book!Crozier/Silna energies. The woman’s name is Liak. She speaks with a vaguely Spanish and/or Italian accent. 

– Liak: “I have been with my tribe. They would not allow me to come back to see you.” /  Crozier: “Why? It’s not because of Fitzjames is it?” 

– (It’s not because of Fitzjames. It’s because of evil spirits, obviously.)

– The Doctor, once they get back to the ships, explaining to the higher officers what’s happened: “Mr. Tozer got all excited and could no longer restrain his Neanderthal-like impulse to start clubbing things.” Boy this by show is NOT for Tozer fans. (Note: Tozer is standing right there? In the room? When the Doctor says this?)

– The Doctor just dropped an f-bomb?????????? And not as an expression of shock, but a hard-core sexual use of the f-bomb. Literally, he said “you can let Tozer fuck me again” – did I mishear this????????????

– Irving’s dying words: “I was attacked by a large silver creature with claws!” Wait did Dan Simmons rip off a fan-made 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama?

– RIP Irving, first confirmed victim of “Tuunbaq the First.”

– Fitzjames is SO racist, throwing around a lot of “savage” and “barbarian” words. Why are you letting this man walk all over you, Crozier?

– Crozier: the first person who has the correct reaction to two weirdos appearing on his boat (aka shock and surprise, rather than worrying nonchalance followed by unprompted extreme aggression.)

– Fitzjames literally laughed after being informed that Irving is dead. (Like Crozier’s bad Raft of the Medusa joke, but SO MUCH WORSE.) 

– RIP Ice Master Reid, actual first confirmed kill of “Tuunbaq pre-Tuunbaq,” several weeks ago, apparently??

– Okay so Fitz here is obviously meant to be a horrible person, but I have to acknowledge that he’s making a few good points: (1) the Doctor has admitted that he has a “sailable” ship, and it’s pretty rude of him to not even explain why he’s unwilling to help these dying men, and (2) it’s been bothering me the whole episode that the Doctor hasn’t been calling officers by their titles, and frankly, I do think Fitz is within his rights to demand the Doctor call him “Captain Fitzjames” rather than “Mr. Fitzjames” on Fitz’s own ship. Like, it’s not that hard.

– The Doctor’s first example of “ways the Franklin crew could mess up the time stream” is the insane scenario: “what if one of them married the mother of Winston Churchill.”

– The “Tuunbaq: The Prequel” can talk!!!!!! “Hello meat!!!” it says, gleefully. 

– Tozer is just the fucking most. He punched the Doctor AGAIN.

– Crozier just “Mr. Fitzjames”ed Fitz!! And Fitz backed down! Crozier finally grew a spine! Just in time to decide to commandeer the Doctor’s ship. 

– The Doctor’s ship inevitably disappears before it can be commandeered. Because of course. (Things and people disappear and get transported to different places and later times all through these episodes for timey~wimey~reasons.) 

Episode 3

– A conversation between the two named female characters (Liak and the Doctor’s companion Christine)! What will they talk about? ...Their dead fathers. Ah. Hmm.

– This show is not sophisticated enough to handle a “white man’s disease killed my father” subplot. And yet, Liak’s father died of TB he contracted from the white men. I’m *worried*

– To help Liak overcome the superstitious antagonism of her “tribe” after her father’s death, Crozier apparently gave a bunch of food to the Inuit, which is  an... interesting take. (One Irishman’s grand gesture fixes racism!)

– Magical Inuit shaman powers are only inherited through the male line (The racism and sexism in this is palpable.)

– So “Tuunbag Episode I: Revenge of the the Tuunbaq” is actually a larger coalition of aliens, run by a being called “Matriarx.” Can we decide whether woman are powerless victims or power-hungry monsters, please? Both is just greedy.

– RIP Strong (another tragic case of the triple threat: sudden onset scurvy, lead poisoning, AND Tuunbaq attack)

– Wait WAIT the Tuunbaq gave Strong the lead poisoning AND the scurvy by biting his neck and sucking his blood, stealing nutrients and leaving lead in their place: Ice Vampires!! I called it!!!

– Groups of people Fitz has verbally degraded: the Irish, the Inuit, all women, and now “common folk.”

Episode 4

– Le Vesconte’s first lines! He sounds like a Boy Scout, by which I mean he sounds about 16, and has an American accent? Also, Fitz pronounces his name “Leh-vay-cont” 

– An AB named “Seeley” is writing an account of the events that are happening, perhaps as this show’s version of Bridgens and/or Peglar? Also Fitz is REALLY opposed to Seeley writing this, because Fitz hates “common folk” that much, apparently? 

– RIP Seeley, we hardly knew ye. 

– Major episode events: the walk-out begins, leaving Terror and Erebus just as the boats slip into another dimension because of alien reasons (this didn’t age well, now that we have the shipwrecks). Also, there’s an Inuit woman who is in league with the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires. 

Episode 5

– As soon as the walk-out begins, the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires begin attacking. 

– Boy Scout Le Vesconte: “I have an idea! If bullets won’t stop them maybe an axe will!” I mean, this is stupid enough for our Dundy, but he follows it up with “Murderers! I’ll hack you to pieces!” and rushes them like a child and has to be rescued. (Also Crozier is way WAY more concerned for Le Vesconte than Fitz is, though Fitz leaps into the rescue effort and Crozier... does not do that. He’s doing a lot of standing on the sidelines and bemoaning his dying men.)

– Peddie is basically just Crozier’s all-purpose lieutenant at this point. Little and Hodgson whomst? 

– Le Vesconte, Fitz, and Tozer get struck by lightning WHILE fighting the Tuunbaq, and some Frankenstein stuff seems to happen, because Fitz now has the munchies. But like, the ominous munchies. 

– Le Vesconte’s in something like a coma. The dumb boy-scout. 

– While explaining why the Netsilik have legends about these aliens as “evil spirits,” the Doctor implies that errors in the historical record happen “especially” in oral traditions. Can we stop insulting the Inuit oral historians please?  

– The cybernetic-vampire-aliens can mind-control their victims sometimes. Calling it now: Fitzjames is under the mind-control already. 

– Liak is revealed to possibly be in cahoots with the aliens, because she has a necklace that her sister gave her that’s actually an alien tracker. 

– Fitzjames, upon learning that Liak may be in league with aliens, attempts to physically kill her with his bare hands, and has to be restrained. 

– Crozier hears murmurs about mutiny, and assigns this poor Marine named Hopcraft to find out more about the mutiny and report back to him. Next morning: RIP Hopcraft, first victim of the “we’re knifing each other” stage of events (aka this show’s Irving.)

Episode 6

– Lieutenant Little, who got separated from Fitzjames and Crozier, tries to comfort ship’s boy Chambers, whose use of the term “panic attacks” is a little anachronistic; a small gripe in the grand scheme of things.

– The Tuunbaq-aliens attack Little’s camp and wipe them all out, leaving Little to the last. Edward Little, a British Christian naval officer in the 1840s, gasps out “I’ll see you in Hades” as his dying words. (Someone write me Little/Irving neo-pagan fanfic for this mess?)

– The Doctor is playing detective, trying to solve Hopcraft’s death. He finds footprints, and both Liak and Tozer are missing. 

– The Doctor calls attention to Tozer’s “enormous feet.” Weird.

– We have our first cannibalism! Perpetrated by Tozer, and uhhhh oh great we’re eating Dr. MacDonald for dinner tonight.

– Le Vesconte woke up from his coma just in time to brain Tozer to death.

– The Doctor: “There were no women’s bones at any of the sites [of the lost expedition remains]” that’s a hilarious comment given that one study suggesting as many as four female skeletons.

– RIP Le Vesconte, from his wounds, offscreen!! Nooo!!

– Tozer (and Fitzjames, and a few others), because they all got struck by the lightning, now have Frankenstein’s cannibalism curse. They all hunger for human flesh.

– Fitzjames is now a sneaky murderer-cannibal who manages to gain Crozier’s trust before turning around and trying to butcher him. As least my evil boy is smart? 

Episode 7

– The big bad reveal: it’s Liak’s secret evil sister! (Just like Season 4 of Sherlock!) She’s been helping the Tuunbaq-aliens the whole time because she hates white men! Because they gave her dad TB and one of them broke her heart! Thanks, it’s bad! 

– The Tuunbaq-aliens eat Liak’s sister anyway because they do not care. 

– Liak, Crozier, the Doctor, and Christine are left to defeat the Tuunbaq-aliens. 

– Fitz feels a little bad about eating people I guess? Also Fitz is “weak” and can’t resist his hunger and all those fun tropes.

Episode 8

– Fitzjames gets a redemption arc via heroic self-sacrifice narrative, complete with death via horrid gurgling. “He sacrificed himself in a last act of humanity.”

– The Doctor agrees to give Crozier a lift to somewhere a bit further south, on the assumption that Crozier will settle down with Liak and live with some “tribe” of other Inuit people that neither of them have ever met. 

– There’s a parting joke about Crozier enjoying drinking wine that did NOT age well.

And that’s all, folks! Hope you... enjoyed? 

[talesfromacrip]

popping off as they say:

ya wanna know some things that suck major ass? well, sit down and let me enlighten you

( a vent/rant post. mute or w.e but I’m gonna go off a bit )

—————

at this point, I feel like I’ll never get to go out and experience the world.

even when I’m feeling up to it or have too for appointments/shows, etc.

I could, but I’d be risking so fucking much and I hate that a lot. yet,some think it’s not a big deal when it kinda is??

like, I really wanna get the fuck out of this house, but it’s difficult nowadays. it makes me sick at times how some use their abled privileges to go out like nothing is even going the fuck on.

I feel like I’ll just be left here alone in my house till I leave this place with this shit going on. only relying on comments, pictures and silly dreams to get me by which ‘helps’ but it’s not enough

I’ll never be able to explore nature to its fullest and despite how negative I am towards it, I still enjoy it or would like too, without an issue occurring.

I’d need so many aides just to help me and people to watch me while I maneuver through.

can’t fly anywhere bc my only source of mobility would be damaged. can’t even drive.

it’s like traveling with an infant, can’t take me anywhere bc everything is essentially a danger. (an inaccessible one ._.)

plus, everything costs so much money nowadays which is something I can’t have much bc of my disability. love it, great, absolutely r a d!!

tired of missing out on so many opportunities though.

shows, little outings, appointments, vacations, fuck,anything essentially. everyone else gets to flaunt this privilege and it’s irritating bc I can’t interact as I’d like.

I’m literally getting cabin fever being in my own home.

which to some seems like a dream in my condition, when it’s a ‘nightmare’.

even when I do go out, the feeling is still 50/50 but we’ll see how that plays out more in the future

I’m so tired of advocating for disability options for the swancore community.

everyone is so fixated on members or how popular they’re posts are, etc. to give a rats ass about disabled fans.

just want them to be safe and experience a show without risk of getting sick, people standing in front of them, inaccessible venues with stairs, folks pushing them/their aides.

which, I guess is asking too much but I’ll continue even if I’m tired of it.

I enjoy this community so damn much but holy f u c k o-o

can’t stand folks nowadays flaunting their experiences when some haven’t at all or can’t bc of inaccessibility at these shows!! ridiculous

tired of dealing with arguments and yelling from my parents. constant instigating and just absolute chaos daily.

they’re good people but holy fuuuuck do they argue about some absolutely ridiculous shit sometimes.

I love them,but being stuck inside with them constantly is driving me insane.

I don’t feel welcomed in my home or anywhere with them tbh. I don’t get peace and quiet as one should.

I can’t go anywhere either and it’s just, irritating but I have to deal with bc they’re the only family I have.

only times I even get peace/time to myself without them constantly around, is when they both go to the store or do some errands together which is rareish bc they irritate one another at times or when we go to a show; which, who the fuck knows when that will be bc I’ve already missed 2 irl ones so far

no privacy whatsoever either so that’s fucked like, y’all realize why I’m getting cabin fever, which is a stupid thing thing to say but that’s what it is

I want to leave but I can’t and probably never will.

like, who is even gonna take care of me when my parents can’t anymore and all? I’m not going to a home and dealing with people I don’t know well at all.

when you can’t say something ya fave wants to hear or say anything to them that’s out of ordinary bc you don’t want to expose that you have feelings for them.

so, you just sit there in your silly little feelings and hide them yet again bc what’s the point?

can’t go anywhere much with them bc my chair is in the way. I’d be holding them back from so many experiences.-. can’t hug or hold hands or anything like that when I’d like too.

can’t help them when they need it or don’t bc I enjoy helping others more than myself tbh. I’m a homebody though and no one likes to be home it seems. not many wanna spend the day watching shit endlessly or playing games or experience an artist at work. some but it’s not enough bc there’s more to life than just, being stuck inside and all

tired of people thinking I’m this, sexless being bc I’m demi and disabled.

that I’m scared to talk about it or I’m just not interested at all, when I am.

like there have been times when I was more like that but ever since I realized I won’t be getting any procedures done to help me be independent, I just try and keep it to myself but it’s so hard.

don’t want to hookup though or do anything like that with someone I don’t know.

I want a nice relationship with someone I know well not someone I don’t at all.

I explained all this and more on my therapeutic blog thing but I guess no one cared which happens.

I’m sick of hiding these feelings, sick of this place , sick of it all

sick of waking up either sad, horny or just plain empty at times bc I can’t do anything, be with who I’d like.

just,feel even more horrible about myself bc I can’t do anything at all. I have to rely on others for the most simplistic tasks.. how am I going to be with someone , let alone the person I care about??

can’t satisfy  them ,can’t even satisfy myself so why the fuck do I even bother??

I’m tired of these, weird vivid dreams of me at school with people I know online or me doing some activity I thought I’d never do like drive/swim/running with them or by myself.

sick of going places I’ve never been or have in the past which makes me want to leave so bad and I can’t.. idk if I ever even will tbh.

sick of having dreams outside of my house in general and then waking up to the same monotonous life.. makes me feel suicidal at times tbh.

I won’t do anything like that. the thoughts make sad as is so I just continue sitting in silence.

it’s getting hard to mask my moods nowadays and everything just makes me tired /annoyed.

tired of how the dreams tease me by making scenarios where I’m living with someone I care about but will never say anything too bc I ruin things when I open my mouth sometimes :))

like, how can I tell someone we had a whole ass family and sweet gushy moments that I cannot partake in bc I can’t move for fucking shit :)) makes for awkward conversation

also tired of being in another body that isn’t mine and looks better than mine..

just, everything I’ve wished since I’ve been ill and after..

better body with actual features and not the kind that make me look like a fuckin child, pretty and slim face, actual mobility with no pain interference..

these are things I started noticing as I got older and even as young child. knowing I can’t fix whats already done in the process too, fucks with my dysmorphia more..

I hate how I get to see his body dressed in fashion or styles I wish I could do but can’t .-. hair, makeup, accessories, clothes, shoes, tights.. you get it

tired of myself when I shouldn’t be but I am.. so much I wanna do and say and sometimes I can’t. it’s there but the words get stuck. I end up saying something different and just ruin the whole thing I feel

[smokeybrand]

Wakanda Forever

When i was young, i wanted to be white. We’re talking grade school age. It wasn’t that i hated myself or misunderstood my heritage or anything like that, it was strictly or monetary reasons. The schools i attended, from K through sixth, were wildly diverse. I spoke about that before. I’ve had the privilege of growing up in California so my perspective on race and class is very broad. Back then, it wasn’t. Back then, i saw these kids with Lunchables and Capri Suns. They had dope ass sneakers like BK Dymacels and LA Gear with the lights in the heel. Look, I'm very old, okay? Whenever there was a book fair, the white kids balled out of control and i went in with, like, ten to twenty dollars. I didn’t understand the advantages being white afforded to those people and the crushing sabotage being black had for us. White meant financial security to me back then. And then i got to Junior High School.

Year seven and eight were eye-openers for me. My seventh grad year, i attend the rich middle school. It was lousy with upper middle class white people and just as many, just as successful Asians. My struggle had gotten worse because my kid brothers were growing, my pops was a lump, and my ma got a pay cut at her terribly soul crushing gig, so i was hyper aware of all this brand new money, this brand new reality, all around me. It was f*cking intolerable. That, and because i came from the wrong zip code, they thought i was an idiot. That was fun. Seventh grade was a dead year academically for me. I slept through most of that sh*t. My time at the rich school was a microcosm of how the world would treat me as a black person and it was sobering as f*ck. I hated it then and i hate it now. I met some really dope cats there, though, people i still talk with to this day and its’ been, what? Twenty-five years? Shout out to all my Sam Brannan peeps! Y’all made that whole as Great Depression of my life, bearable. With the understanding of my reality in America staunchly affirmed, i switched schools for Eighth grade. I made my way back to the neighborhood middle school named after a racist ass German. That’s where i learned why everyone hates us as black people so much.

My time at Goethe as dope as f*ck. I excelled in all of my classes and had the most fun in school, ever, up to that point. It was like a return home but with more autonomy, more agency. I came into my own over that year and began to see, with clarity and pride, how f*cking dope it is to be black. How the entire goddamn world, follows our lead in literally everything. Music, fashion, art, sports; Black people set those trends. Our culture IS American culture and it was no more apparent than the demos of that school. Goethe has a significant more black kids going there, it was the ghetto middle school and all, but i noticed a lot of the sh*t i saw being traded with the rich white kids and well-to-do Asians at the Rich Middle School, were being rocked, here, among the black kids. We were the first ones with the Jordans. We were the first ones with the NBA Lives and the Maddens. Ours was the dominate energy and i thrived in it. I met some of my oldest friends there. I met my best friend there. I had my first love there, even if it was unrequited. Shout out to my Goethe peeps. Y’all helped shape the me i am today! I caught my swagger then and carried it into High School. Now that was an interesting time.

I went to John F. Kennedy, class of 02. It took a while for me to adjust, about a year, but i actualized as a Sophomore. At that point, i knew who i was. I understood my place. I loved me some me and no one could tell me otherwise. The demographic of my High School, resembled my Rich Middle School considerably. So many rich white folks and uppity Asians. However, i came over with A LOT of me Goethe peeps. A lot of cats i knew from around the neighborhood got bused in the same as me. That palpable energy from Eighth grade? yeah, that carried over to Ninth through Twelfth. The contrast was so f*cking potent. It couldn’t be more obvious. We were definitely the minority but literally everyone boarded our sh*t. It was insane. Iverson was reinventing the NBA Star. Jordan had released arguably his very best series of sneakers, both retro and new, those four years. Hip Hp and Rap culture had gone mainstream bling and these suburban ass Kyles were eating it up. Cash Money rose and gave us the classic Back That Azz Up; A record that is colorblind as f*ck. The second that beat drop every one shaking they big or non-existent ass on the floor. When i got to High School, being black was a billion dollar industry and i knew my misguided longing to be white, was wrong.

They all wanted to be black, but safely. They all wanted to be what already was. Everybody wanted to be a n*gga but no one wanted to be a n*gga. I’m dope as f*ck. My culture is dope as f*ck. You can’t tell me it ain’t. In my unbridled pride for my skin tone, i immediately understood the sobering flip side to that coin. That microcosm i spoke about. America loves blackness but hates black bodies. That lesson i learned as i grew older and entered adulthood, interacted with bosses at sh*t jobs, and filled out physically. I’m a huge black dude and, while I'm effectively an endangered species in the US because White men see me as a threat to be eliminated, i am hyper-fetishized by White women because they want to roll around in the jungle with my ape ass. It’s wild living this reality where you are hated for living but loved for creating. Like, a racist will totally hate-f*ck you, strictly because you are black, calling you “n*gger” the entire time, and then come back the the next night in a hood to burn a cross in your yard. That’s my life. That’s my reality. It’s f*cking silly.

I’m an old man now. I got life experience out the ass and this last four years has aged me up considerably. I think it’s aged everyone. Not the wypipo, though. They’re set in their ways. They’re set so much in their ways, the second it looked like sh*t might even out for everyone, they tried to overthrow the government. You don’t get too much more set than that, man. The sh*t that i know now, i wish i could go back and tell old me. Wee lil Smokey would probably have been much better off with this understanding early on. He wouldn’t have had to struggled with his identity and figure out why it was wrong to want to be white or why it was bad to be black. He wouldn’t have had to feel so self conscious about what he was had, the situation he had to live in, if he understood how fixed the game is for those who lack the melanin. I think the younger version of me would have taken comfort knowing that it was okay to love his skin and that it’s the most coveted resource, for better or worse, in the world.

I’m Black as f*ck and so goddamn proud of it.

[sthayil]

2020 Reading Goal Outcomes

Goal: 52 books in 2020, re-reads don’t count, romance novels don’t count, and read at least half non-fiction.

Result: 53 books, but only 14 non-fiction. Will try again next year!

Half girlfriend, by Chetan Bhagat. My first time reading this author, which half of India seems to love to hate. An easy read that still had me reflecting on elitism, English, and privilege in India.

Coming out as Dalit, by Yashica Dutt. A heartfelt memoir on caste-based discrimination in India. A very close-hitting book, and I had never thought about caste until I attended the Jaipur Literary festival and heard Dutt speak. I didn’t know the caste of any of my Indian friends, and realised that I probably did not know anyone who was Dalit, and didn’t know anyone who was “out” as Dalit. I thought that the Syrian Christian community was post-caste, but actually we are complicit in upholding caste-based discrimination through the centuries. This book will stay with me for a long time.

The Receptionist, by Janet Groth. A memoir of the author’s decades as receptionist at the New Yorker. I didn’t realise how segregated New York used to be. Got the feeling that this was written for a specific group of people. Favourite quote: “Anyone who cries as easily as you do is pretty tough. You don’t give an inch; you give only tears.”

First They Killed My Father, by Loung Ung. Devastating account of the author’s childhood in Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge regime and genocide.

Bright Stain, by Francesca Bell. Brutal, graceful collection of poetry. “Let me tell you, at forty-two, it is a deep delicious pleasure not to be dewy or fresh as a fucking daisy.”

Homeland, by R. A. Salvatore.

Exile, by R. A. Salvatore.

Sojourn, by R. A. Salvatore. Found a new fantasy author I want to keep following! Only new to me though, R. A. Salvatore is one of the masters of fantasy and his world The Forgotten Realms is apparently very popular in games. This is the first trilogy in his series and I really enjoyed it. Will continue to read from this world.

Dreamer’s Pool, by Juliet Marillier.

Tower of Thorns, by Juliet Marillier.

Den of Wolves, by Juliet Marillier. Rediscovered one of my favourite authors from high school, when I realised the New York public library has a search and hold system so I can request particular books I want! This series was deeply satisfying, there’s nothing better than reading a new series by a beloved author.

The Reproach of Hunger, by David Rieff. A searing critique of the current global food system and the world of development. One hand trying to fix problems the other created. Nothing but a strengthening of the state and deepening of democracy will fix the mess we are in.

Roar, by Cecelia Ahern. A collection of wonderful short stories of women in magical realist situations based on common expressions. Eg. The Woman Who Wore Her Heart on Her Sleeve is a small story about a medical miracle who literally wore her heart on her sleeve. The Woman With A Strong Suit is about a woman who literally searches an entire department store for the perfect suit. Adorable but powerful stories of the voices of women and the bizarre lives we lead in the modern world.

Can You Tolerate This, by Ashleigh Young. A poet’s first non-fiction work, a collection of essays about her life and memories in mainly NZ, along with interesting stories she hears/reads about from elsewhere. I most liked the first story about the skeletal disease, and the long memory of her brother’s Big Red sweater.

A New Dawn, by Various. I feel like I’m cheating by adding this to my non-fiction count. It’s a collection of essays by popular authors, reacting to the Twilight series. Very light reading.

The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm, by Christopher Paolini. A set of short stories that takes place after the Inheritance cycle! I didn’t know he kept writing! This was so exciting to find. A lovely return to a series I read and reread for years when growing up.

Catwoman Soulstealer, by Sarah J. Maas. Saw another book by Maas at the library and had to pick it up. She is always a winner.

The Uses and Abuses of History, by Margaret MacMillan. Never take history simplistically, and that if you go in looking for proof for your plan, there are sufficient examples in history to find what you are looking for. So always be careful.

The Financial Diet, by Chelsea Fagan and Lauren Have. I watch their Youtube channel, so it was nice seeing their book on the shelf here at my sublet. A quick and easy read especially if you watch their videos. Intuitive and reassuring stuff.

Men Explain Things to Me, by Rebecca Solnit. Collection of feminist essays.

Poison Princess, by Kresley Cole

Endless Knight, by Kresley Cole

Dead of Winter, by Kresley Cole

Day Zero, by Kresley Cole

Arcana Rising, by Kresley Cole

The Dark Calling, by Kresley Cole. Kresley Cole’s first YA series, still quite good, but the final book is still not out! Will have to wait for next year to finish this. I would not have started if I realised it wouldn’t end in time.

One Day We’ll All Be Dead And None Of This Will Matter, by Scaachi Kaul. Collection of essays by an Indian Immigrant to Canada. I was fortunate to grow up in Asia. What is my dominant exposure? Did I ever have one?

Doing It, by Hannah Witton. A good book for folks with limited sex ed. My main takeaway is how depressing the side effects list is for almost all methods of female contraception.

Post-Truth, by Matthew D’Ancona. A political and philosophical manifesto, examining what is going on today, and a call for us to challenge it. Facts must be presented in both an emotional and rational way in order to prevail.

Dark Currents, by Jacqueline Carey

Autumn Bones, by Jacqueline Carey

Poison Fruit, by Jacqueline Carey. Found another author whose YA fiction I hadn’t read before. The Terre D’Ange series is still my favourite, but this is good too.

Santa Olivia, by Jacqueline Carey

Saints Astray, by Jacqueline Carey. Another win for Carey!

The Dragon Keeper, by Robin Hobb

Dragon Haven, by Robin Hobb

City of Dragons, by Robin Hobb

Blood of Dragons, by Robin Hobb. So happy to have found a new author! This was a great fantasy series, and for once the dragons were not perfect glorious creatures, but just another species in the world. Will keep reading Hobb.

Eating Animals, by Jonathan Safran Foer. This was good but the topic is so awful. I was off chicken for weeks after reading this and still haven’t fully come back. I’m really thinking about going more and more towards vegetarianism now. 

Pop Empires: Transnational and Diasporic Flows of India and Korea, edited by Allison Alexy, Monika Mehta, Robert Ji-Song Ku, S. Heijin Lee. I finally got around to reading this after attending the book signing in NYC ages ago, and this was such a good collection! I so much enjoyed the different slices of analysis from film, anthropology, history, etc.

The Crystal Shard, by R. A. Salvatore

Streams of Silver, by R. A. Salvatore

The Halfling’s Gem, by R. A. Salvatore. I can see why people like this author, but I wish I had found him earlier, maybe in my early teens. Then I think I would have really loved it. Reading this as an adult just makes me think of other fantasy series where there were higher stakes and the characters were not so perfect all the time. There is a lot of good adventure here, but not much emotion.

Canticle, by R. A. Salvatore

In Sylvan Shadows, by R. A. Salvatore. I spoke too soon. I complained of perfection with Drizzt, but Cadderly’s sheer wimpyness is driving me insane. He’s too good for war, he has “compassion”, but it’s all well and good for all his friends to go to war and kill people, just not precious Cadderly.

Night Masks, by R. A. Salvatore. Alright, he’s starting to grow up, but he is still incredibly squeamish about getting his own hands dirty and the hypocrisy of it is very irritating.

The Fallen Fortress, by R. A. Salvatore.

The Chaos Curse, by R. A. Salvatore.

The Legacy, by R. A. Salvatore.

Starless Night, by R. A. Salvatore. I think I’ll pause here for a bit. Too much Salvatore for me. There are 30 books in this series alone. 

Zelaldinus, by Irwin Allen Sealy. A wonderful amalgamation of bits and pieces of prose and poetry to do with a ghost of Jalaluddin Akbar.

Blood Rights, by Kristen Painter. Started a new series to feed my Maas withdrawals. It’s just okay so far.

Flesh and Blood, by Kristen Painter.

[crasherfly]

It’s Not You, Dummy, It’s Capitalism

We all need to work less.

That’s the conclusion I’ve drawn after 3 weeks on a 30 hour schedule. It’s too soon to say the change has been truly life-altering, but I can promise you it’s made a difference.

To clarify, my situation is a rather remarkable one- 

I work in the government, so I’m union protected. That, in and of itself, is of great importance and a source of security unavailable to most people in 2020.

Due to a pending budget crisis, we were given the opportunity to request reduced hours on a voluntary basis. We could retain our vacation accrual and insurance benefits. We’d simply work less.

I live in a dual-income household where the second income is considerably higher than my own. As such, my cost-of-living needs are offset accordingly.

Basically, all of the above had to be true for this option to be viable for me. Stars-aligning kind of stuff. It is absolutely an economic privilege that I recognize many do not have access to.

My student loan payments are delayed until January, so that’s a huge expense temporarily delayed that played a major factor in my choice.

So, goes without saying that yes, I am remarkably lucky. I’m not out of touch with the fact that many, many folks could not make this work. Luckily, that’s the point of this post! In a better world, everyone SHOULD have the chance to make this work.

With that out of the way, I would like to repeat, we all need to work less. Even if it’s just ten hours less, it would make all the difference.

The first week of my 30 hour/3 day work schedule was marked mostly by sleep and inactivity, my body simply recovering from the absolute insanity of 2020, which for me had been marked by constant workplace turmoil, incredibly strict job requirements, relentless electronic monitoring and the looming threat of budget-induced layoffs. Couple this with the stress of a self-induced diet and a tight spending budget as I pursued paying off all my credit cards, and it’s little wonder that I came face to face with a true, no-holds-barred meltdown in early August. 

I mean, sure, I had lost weight and considerably paid down my debts, but I was also drinking more than I had at any time since maybe college. My impulse spending had returned with a vengeance as I obsessively sought out new thrills. I was almost exclusively plugged into my video games and anime. I wasn’t creating, I was barely socializing, and my off time was just enough for me to catch up on sleep and occasionally work out before going straight back to the 40 hour, 4 day slog.

There was no epiphany moment in August where I realized I was having a meltdown and needed a change. I wouldn’t recognize my meltdown for what it was until weeks after the fact.

But when my department offered the reduced schedule option, something deep within me stirred- and I grabbed that opportunity as quick as I could. It was a visceral reaction. I knew that emotionally, spiritually, physically, I was in a world of hurt- and I knew why. It wouldn’t take a new therapist or hours of meditation to confirm- it was my job. I hated my job, just as surely as I had hated the job that came before it and the job before that- and it was killing me.

But economic necessity kept me from doing anything about it. I needed insurance. I needed the security of a paycheck. I needed to eat, to have a gym membership, to fill my car with gas, etc.

So when my workplace said “hey, we’ll let you keep all your benefits, just work less and take a smaller check”, I realized that hey...this was a pretty fair compromise. So I went for it.

The results? Well. See for yourself-

I sleep more, and with regularity, and without as many vicious all-nighters. I don’t spend time freaking out about how little control I have over my time, or how the sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I’ll just wake up and start the next terrible day of work all over again.

My workouts go longer and to greater effect, and I have more energy for them.

I’m actually writing on a daily basis again.

My homespace is the cleanest it has ever been, in spite of 3 pets and an ongoing pest infestation. I’m even doing laundry regularly. It’s wild.

I’m reading, meditating and watching media with intention, because my focus is slowly repairing itself now that I’m not in front of a screen 10-14 hours a day.

I have more time to invest in and socialize with the people around me.

I drink less. A lot less. And it’s become incrementally easier to continue making wise and kind consumption choices for my body- choices that will surely prolong my life, if I can keep them up.

I’ve been able to take up the side-projects and learning endeavors I had been putting off or had written off as pipe-dreams, ‘cuz I now have the emotional surplus to take them on.

And the list goes on- so many small things- cooking for myself regularly, not forgetting to brush my teeth, putting on new clothes every day- stuff that like, SHOULD be normal stuff, but just wasn’t, for me, is finally happening, ‘cuz I finally feel like I have the energy for it.

What I’ve learned so far is that when you aren’t killing yourself 40 hours a week, you might end up having more resources available to you than you did before.

I thought I’d be feeling a tight belt after my first check- but if anything, I’m shocked at how much more economic freedom I feel. Gone are the stress-induced impulses to spend on  items I don’t need. If anything, having less in the bank account has helped me look on the raw amount of STUFF I have accrued in my adult life and appreciate it more deeply- as well as part with a good deal of it.-

Not unlike my video game backlog, I’ve learned I have no small number of personal backlogs that have built up over the years. Books, movies, crafts, legos, electronics, workout gear- you name it, I probably have a collection built up for it- created in a moment of Capitalism-induced stress where the act of building that backlog was mistaken as accomplishment of following through on its end-objective.

These backlog collections were the product of excess- things purchased just ‘cuz. Things purchased to make the 40 hour death march feel Worth It. I mean, who wants to take a paycheck and see nothing for it beyond a few debt balances marginally reduce? When you have a pinball table sitting in your living room, that feels like a far more tangible reward for your work and stress.

But now that the work schedule stress is at least marginally reduced, the root cause of these growing backlogs having been addressed, I don’t feel like I need that pinball table. And as the days press on and my energy continues to return piece by piece, I realize that the several hundred bucks I traded in were more than worth what I’ve gained back in personal health. And as a result, I have more left over in the bank- turns out when I feel good, I don’t feel the need to constantly bleed cash or obsess over full online shipping carts. 

I just straight up don’t miss the money.

I mean, yes, obviously, less income can and does suck. Telling people I willingly took a lighter schedule often meets with a mix of reactions ranging from confusion to concern to outright disdain and judgement. If a sudden expense comes up- say, a medical emergency, I’d have to revisit this arrangement. And there’s always a chance I could get laid off, ‘cuz Covid is ravaging our economy, so having little cushion for that possibility is a source of stress and concern.

But otherwise, my case is a remarkable one. I was able to look at my current check, guess how much I’d be losing by reducing my hours, and feel pretty good about what I was left with. Most people can’t make that math work, and I empathize with that. 

But my point here isn’t to marvel over how lucky I am. My point here is that when you realize that it is POSSIBLE to retain essential benefits like health insurance without the proverbial gun of a 40 hour work week pointed at your head, you start to realize just how different American society could be- for the better.

Here are just a few things that could so easily be different if American society was even a little willing to bend just a tiny bit.

We don’t need to work 40 hours a week. It’s an imaginary and stagnant number that means literally nothing. We sure as hell don’t need to be on the job 5 days either.

Similarly, we don’t NEED most of the benefits employers dangle in front of us to keep ups for 40+ hours a week- benefits that could easily be transferred over to pure pay/financial compensation. 

I’d go so far as to say we don’t even really NEED the extra money, either, but for everyone to require less money is to assume that A) our entire economic ecosystem could change overnight (unlikely) and B) Most businesses can’t afford to pay us more for less raw productivity (patently false in most cases).

We don’t need to use half of our earned income for a place to live. We don’t even need to use a third of it or a quarter.

Good food doesn’t have to be as expensive as it is, and a gym membership/fitness assistance doesn’t have to be a luxury available only to those who can pay for it.

Medical insurance doesn’t need to be conditional- and it sure as fuck shouldn’t be tied to employment. Oh, and “elective” medical care and therapy should absolutely be freely available.

Cars/transportation/clothing/utilities/essential personal items (clothes/furniture/internet/etc) do not have to be paywalled behind requisite job/personal security- the same requisite security that often requires these very same things before you can obtain said security.

It should go without saying that you should not need job experience to gain job experience. Generally speaking, the people making twice as much as you are no different from you save for a few essential personal contacts that got them where they are. You could do what they do if given the proper time and training. In a perfect world, we could freely apply for anything, and it would be illegal to list years of experience or a degree as a job requirement.

We do not need to let employers monopolize our lives- no matter what incentives they might dangle in front of us. Our jobs should be just that- jobs. A place we go to create something for someone else in exchange for compensation. They should not be our purpose. They should not take up the majority of our time. They should not cost us our physical or emotional well-being. 

We need to stop pretending that our employers are interested in anything beyond productivity for the sake of productivity.

And then we need to prioritize ourselves accordingly.

The list can go on and on.

So many of these things really aren’t a reach. They truly aren’t. Other countries do them, and have met with success. But whether by stubbornness or greed or simple laziness, American society just can’t or won’t consider these asks.

I’ll just end with this-

I’m on the other side of the typical employer-employee agreement, where I’m retaining my most important benefits but simply working and earning less. It’s a realization of like, half a bullet-point from my “how society can get better” list, but even this mere half-realization is a life-changer.

It’s not the right choice for everyone. And certainly, there are people who would even prefer to work and earn more.

But our entire society shouldn’t be contingent on that being the ONLY option.

Everyone should have the choice to do what I’m doing right now, if they want.

But for that to happen, our society needs to fundamentally change.

I believe if our society changes and extends even the most meager of employment and benefit flexibility to its citizens, we would all, every last one of us, be happier and more fulfilled. 

If you’re working 40+ hours a week grinding out a living and are beating yourself up ‘cuz you don’t have time or energy to keep your home clean, work out, eat healthy, do your laundry, invest in social opportunities, skill building, or even undertake personal investments like a car or an updated wardrobe-

It’s not a You issue.

It’s a Capitalism issue.

And the only way it’ll be fixed is everyone can be afforded the same opportunity as I have been.

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews… Orange is the New Black (S05E05) Sing It, White Effie Airdate: June 9, 2017 @oitnb Ratings: @netflix Score: 8.75

**********SPOILERS BELOW**********

OITNB has a habit of having white folks tell black folks’ stories… Normally you can kind of sense it right away, but after watching ‘Sing It, White Effie’ I had to look up the primary writer. I’ve talked about this a few times but never on this grand of a stage. I know that this has been addressed by many in previous years including Essence Magazine (which, yes I do read). It’s true that we as human beings, of blood and guts and organs and bones, are for the most part the exact same, sans a few genetic defects that only affect a certain race… And it’s true that some of us in different parts of the world have very different experiences due to environment. For instance, for over a decade in Miami, my only friends have been ones of color… Literally 98% Latin & Black… Despite how other parts of my family live, I live very differently. Growing up a 'sexually fluid’ ginger with a mother who was a very young teenager in high school gave me a vastly different experience than most. I’ve always celebrated my fucking weirdness. In high school I was literally a walking oxymoron, wearing 90 inch GAT pants I stole from the mall or borrowed from my friend, GlowGirl (yeah in the late 90s we all had Rave Names, didn’t you know?), paired with an oversized button up I found in my step-dads closet and a vest from Structure and Brooks Brothers eyeglasses that my Grandmother bought me on a visit… Not to mention spiked up Backstreet Boy haircut (that may or may not have been blue), tousled in the front, and fucking candy and jelly bracelets from the base of my thumbs up past my elbows. What the fuck, right? You’d think I’d look back and hate it, but all I see is a RAD fn’ Rave Star with 'anti-anti’ 90’s culture embodiment… Serving up Rave-Tastic Soccer Playing Prep Freak “on a Lemonade budget”…. Thank you, Shea Coulee!

Diversity has always been a part of my life in one way or another. I love to trade perspectives. I ask questions and offer up personal experiences instead of telling people their way of thinking is wrong, because I want people to understand me and I want to understand them. I truly believe that if we all at least tried to understand each other instead of this 'This opinion is right. This opinion is wrong,’ divisive mindset so many have seem to have adopted as of late the world would be a much better place. That being said, I just wrote a few articles on the 3rd Season of '60 Days In’ and stated there were certain topics I couldn’t completely speak on, even being a diverse ginger gringo faggot or whatever anyone wants to throw my way. On the internet today I was told I have a PHD in Cock Sucking (and other things that literally just look like letters on a page to me) and on the bus just last Monday, I let Snapchat take a quick, disappearing peak at a woman attacking my partner and I on the bus with an umbrella who called us 'stretched out asshole faggot cock sucking mother fuckers that will fry in hell’, I couldn’t make this shit up even if I tried. She had gotten a glimpse at my partner helping me on the bus because I have some issues moving around on Monday’s due to some disc issues in the upper parts of my back and went in for the kill when my partner asked if she could please turn the music down that she was blasting from her phone like she wasn’t aware that one can totally sonically invade someone’s space. None of these experiences give me the proper perspective needed to make a complete series featuring an episode that looks through the lens of a woman of color’s standpoint on Culture Appropriation on an all white 'DreamGirls’ production at the 'White School of Rich Bitch Privilege’.

Don’t get me wrong, this is probably the best take on racial issues I’ve ever seen on OITNB. I was moved, accomplished NYC playwright and television writer & editor Molly Smith Metzler, whose worked on two of my favorite Streaming Only series (OITNB & Hulu’s 'Casual’) is a raw talent that streaming networks would be lucky to have work on their exclusive series… But it all still felt like it was missing something. Some might tell you that the 'diversity’ plays itself out in front of the camera, but I assure you as a writer that it takes a village. When it comes to television particularly, everything is filtered through a lens after a lens after another lens…. As the showrunner draws out a storyboard with producers and then oversees the writing of a script which is handed to an editor and then off to a director which directs the actors who have their own interpretation of that character who are then filmed and framed by a cinematographer who hands over the multiple takes to an editor, who then slices and dices and puts together the final product that the network may possibly need to approve and by now I’m out of fucking breath. And I didn’t even mention the composers, casting directors, production designers, art directors, set decorators, costumes, makeup, the fn’ art department, sound department who collaborates with special effects people, not to be confused with the visual effects crew and the dozens and dozens of others who’s lens it funnels through to make a finished product. Did I make a point yet?

'Sing It, White Effie’ is by far the best of #OITNB5 but just like the tears that filled my eyes during the final moments when a young Janae has an epiphany when she realizes what her trip to a private school that has a trio of rich white girls playing the main characters of 'DreamGirls’ truly represents…. Just like Taystee’s beautiful, enthralling speech that I’m sure we all applauded and were worked up over emotionally… It just could have been better. No matter what you know, no matter what you’ve seen, no matter how intense your empathy radar is, no matter how many shoes you have traded with other people… We can write out someone else’s story, we can do our research, we can firmly believe the things we say, we can identify pieces of a puzzle of someone else’s story through idiosyncratic experiences, but we’ll never be able to put the entire puzzle together without the missing piece.

I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining, I’m only imagining that a fantastic show could be even bolder, even more intense, even more 'on the nose’ with it’s ironic comedy style, that’s sometimes dark so that it fades into the drama with more ease. I love OITNB, I do. I would go as far as to say that this is the most bingeable show ever created. The hardest thing I’ve had to do in the past few months (thank god) is to decide to go to sleep instead of watching and writing about another episode of this very show. Slowly but surely, the inmates of Litchfield are shown to notice little things that are waking them to the impending consequences that are sure to devastate these women in a major way.

Right now it’s the little things, like Suzanne (Uzo Aduba), the usual most 'out of touch’ resident of Litchfield, observing the fact that she’s not being fed during regular hours. Gloria (Selenis Leyva) has come to a point where she is completely overwhelmed, she can’t carry on her normal duties anymore. Her genuine concern for Daya (Dascha Polanco) as well as her inner turmoil she’s experiencing for generally losing control paired with the backfiring of attempting to steal the gun from Daya to impede the takeover is a weight she can no longer carry. Her phone call to Diaz (Elizabeth Rodriguez) was another truly successful, relatable, and dramatic moment that puts the audience inside Litchfield for an oh-so important instant. I think we can all relate to a point in time where we are completely at a loss for what to do in a situation, maybe we want to ask for help, but we don’t know how, or even where to start, or even if we could be helped at all… So you just need a familiar voice on the other end of the line. The family dynamic is so strong with this one, and as a person who lives in a Latin Dominated city, there’s a certain way that pride is carried here that I see in these characters. These actresses are truly amazing to bring their distinct perspective into a script that is not their own, essentially that is what makes this show so special in these dramatic points of reference. It is bigger than the writers, who are great, but just not as diverse as we would like.

If it’s one thing that a talented white woman would write with a pristine birds eye view, it’s satire of a what it would be like to be a rich white woman turned into a slave by white supremacists… Oh yeah, and one white nationalist. Judy King (Blair Brown) looks completely insane with her messy hair, ketchup stained face, and belt leash around her neck. I literally can’t stop laughing as I write this. The image will be forever stored in the memory banks of my brain. Taystee is PISSED. The Helicopter Press snapping a photo of Judy King tied to a cross on top of a roof by skinheads wearing hijab’s has interfered with Taystee’s intentions, which means everyone’s intentions, but most importantly… Justice for Poussey. She means to buy Judy off of the skinheads and grab 'The PR Guy’ Josh (John Palladino) to issue a statement, but the skinheads make Taystee & Friends work for it, holding a ridiculous auction, which doesn’t really work… But for the sake of moving the core narrative onward in what is as close to real-time as possible, I suppose it’s fine…. I’m just not sure where everyone else came from considering in one scene they were alone and the next minute the area is full of potential bidders. Just goes to show you even some of the best shows are fat from perfect.

Pensatucky (Taryn Manning) has yet another memorable moment, again the drama is really what is setting this season ablaze. Big Boo (Lea DeLaria) catches Pensatucky & Coates (James McMenamin) making out. Of course, this not only enrages Boo for obvious reasons, but it also has her worried for Pensatucky’s safety. A lot of people seem incredibly uncomfortable with this subplot, but Manning delivers the true Pensatucky 'thought process’ in a 'methamphetamine metaphor’ that’s just divine. 'No matter how much I wanted different, I had to respect the chemicals… Because Lye doesn’t feel anything until it touches ephedrine’, Pensatucky means this… And even if you don’t understand the white trash chemistry behind the metaphor, she delivers it in the most earnest & steady manner. There’s a beauty to it. She continues… 'Have you ever wanted somebody that you shouldn’t?’ Boo doesn’t have it, 'Of course. It’s called masturbating. Now say goodbye and walk the fuck away, son.’ Pensatucky is a character that we’ve already explored so much throughout the past 4 ½ seasons, but there are so many notes to this character and to Manning’s delivery that they could literally go on forever. This is the very opposite of Piper (Taylor Schilling) who literally seems like a new person, someone completely alien to the Piper who kicked off the show in S1. Even her interactions with Alex (Laura Prepon) feel off key. Maybe prison is changing her? Or maybe they have no idea what to do with the character. They certainly know what they want to do with Alex, as she has started a bit of an 'outdoor prison’ revolution… Grass Roots, if you will!

We should mention that Coates escapes by way of Pensatucky stealing the gun from 'The Incompetent Queens of White Trash’, Angie (Julie Lake) and Leanne (Emma Myles), who don’t even realize that their 'secret hiding place’ they stored the gun while on a massive DXM trip is actually the back of the belt that Angie had no idea she was wearing. Coates actually takes the gun with him… All of these events have me worried for Pensatucky and there is really only so much that Boo can do. Right before his grand escape, Taystee and company lead Judy out for a press conference. Taystee begins and Danielle Brooks delivers her words like a Viola Davis or Meryl Streep in the making. She hands it over to Judy but pulls back when she realizes that Judy lying about her ill treatment will only hurt their cause… And to roll back to my original point, which I rolled off on a bit of a passionate tangent… Taystee literally says the words that I positioned that first point around… Judy King cannot speak for Taystee or any of the inmates, for that matter. This isn’t exactly a Pensatucky 'Methamphetamine Metaphor’ but dammit… In the face of previous controversy the show, particularly the writers room, has been accused of, you’d think that they’d hire equally as talented women of color to write this speech, portions of these episode, entire episodes. Once again, I take nothing away from the talented Molly Smith Metzler, she did an excellent job here… I just think that this scene, as well as others, could pack so much more power and benefit from the proper frame of reference.

[curlygirl84]

Michael Hussein Tallon’s Facebook Post (shared via Blue Dem Warriors)

Today has been a day of awakening for me, and I suppose it has been for many of my age-contemporaries, too. As a fifty-one year old man, I don’t cry much, but, wow, have I been a weepy mess all day today watching these magic kids. And that’s the term that keeps coming back to me: These kids are magic. They somehow don’t seem real. They seem more like fully formed wizards who just popped into existence, as if the shooter who tore through their high school just showed up expecting sheep and found warrior-paladins instead. But then it makes even less sense, because they aren’t just from Stoneman Douglas in Parkland, Florida. They are kids from everywhere. And they keep demanding that the media recognizes that they are from everywhere. These kids, these magic kids, keep saying to the interviewers, GO TALK TO THE OTHER KIDS. GO TALK TO THE BLACK KIDS. GO TALK TO THE POOR KIDS. GO TALK TO THE LATINO KIDS. Then, as happened time and again today, when the cameras finally turn to the black kids and the Latino kids and the poor kids, THEY talk about other kids. This isn’t a story about Parkland, Florida and a really smart AP class with great prospects. It’s about a full-on generation shift that caught me, and I’m guessing you, totally by surprise. These magic kids are from EVERYWHERE. Which begs the question: If they came from everywhere, then how did they happen? The NRA and their sad, angry ilk have a readymade explanation: They’re actors. They’re following a script. They’re shills of Big Peace. Whatever. All that is insane, of course, but you can almost understand the confusion. The kids just don’t seem normal. They aren’t what we understand children to be, which of course is to say, “They aren’t like us. They aren’t like we were when we were kids.” And so we cast about for an easy answer. But perhaps the answer isn’t easy at all. Perhaps the answer is through a mirror darkly. Millennials (who, believe it or not, are now in their thirties) and these Gen-Z kids have been painted with the most unflattering colors by my Gen-Xers and the Baby Boomers before us. We’re the ones in positions of power in the world and what do we do? We call them all a bunch of crybabies. We give them endless grief for their constant insistence on things like “white privilege” and “non-binary sexuality.” We mock them for their safe spaces and their sensitivity to being triggered by language. We tell them they need to toughen up. We tell them that the world is a harsh place, as if we know better than them that brutal truth. I think the reason we are so surprised by these kids is that we’ve spent so many years telling ourselves that they were “snowflakes” who were going to get blown away by the real world, that we missed the coming storm. God, were we wrong. The truth is these kids didn’t spontaneously erupt from Florida a month ago. They have been deconstructing the tribal bullshit of our generations for their entire lives, and now they’re ready. Not for nothing, these are the kids that were born, literally, in the months after September 11, 2001. They came into a world at war. They grew up in the shadow of ever-threatening “Red Alert Levels” and endless “Active Shooter Drills” and the ubiquity of “Rekt” videos on 4Chan. They did not know one day of school before Columbine. They did not know one day of life without the threat of terrorism. They have not known one day of their nation in peace. Like it or not, they have lived every day of their lives, twenty-four-seven, on the battlefield. We give them endless grief for playing video games. We tell them they should be outside, at school – but for so many of them, the schools and their streets are “soft targets.” God, I’d stay in and play games where the bullets weren’t real, too. These kids grew up with the native ability to parse the OBVIOUS racism of Trayvon Martin’s murder, of Tamir Rice murder, of Philando Castile’s murder, of African American teenagers in McKinney, Texas getting the shit kicked out of them by police for being in a “white” neighborhood for a pool party. Just two days ago, they watched Stephon Clark get put down by over-amped, trigger-happy police while he was in his grandmother’s backyard. They can see with their own two eyes that our society is grossly unjust – and so when the camera focuses on David Hogg, we shouldn’t be surprised that this smart-dressed white boy says, TALK TO THE CHILDREN OF COLOR, as he did just yesterday in an interview with Axios. We shouldn't be surprised when he says “Our parents don’t know how to use a fucking democracy, so we have to.” They’ve seen how badly we’ve screwed up a free society for their entire lives and they are, in their own beautiful way, “calling bullshit.” The kids didn’t magically arise in a fortnight; their whole lives have been calling bullshit. They are digital natives with an ability to see the whole grand world. As such, they note that we’re the only economically advanced nation in the world where 30,000 people die from gun violence every year. They aren’t cloistered in their own communities playing kickball, so they know that those deaths are skewed all to hell in the obviously racist, classist ways that are evidenced in the above mentioned state-sponsored crimes of racial bias. They know that Trayvon, Tamir, Philando and all the others aren’t aberrations in the data set. These kids might just be learning to shave, but Occam’s razor is intuitive. You need to train yourself into NOT believing obvious truths. Maybe Gen-Xers and Boomers have learned to bend themselves into a knot over that, but these kids? Not a chance. Of course they call bullshit on that. When the “adult” generations sit on our hands and say we can’t just get rid of AR-15s because of the NRA and their power, of course they call bullshit on that. When politicians who are blatantly sucking money from horrible people who manifestly make their world worse, of course they call bullshit on that. We adults — and FINALLY with some level of self-consciousness in these matters, I’m speaking as a middle-aged, white, privileged, man — have been so busy lampooning their beliefs, that we missed the point where they just went ahead and actually included everyone into their generational tribe – regardless of their race, gender-identity, sexuality, religion, or class. We’re still arguing about gay wedding cakes and we’re still OBVIOUSLY treating kids of color worse than white kids. Of course they call bullshit on that. What we missed, and why we’re so surprised that they have “magically” appeared, is that these kids threw our bullshit overboard years ago. They don’t need our rigidity. They don’t ever again need to hear someone say, “Hey, everyone is a little bit racist.” They have no time for our “God-hates-the-gays bigotry.” They have no place for our transphobia. Grow up on a battlefield and you lose your illusions. They’re well over our befuddling myths of the way the world must be. Moreover, they know they’ve got a fight ahead of them. They are looking square into a future denuded of the possibilities we older folks took for granted. They can see, quite clearly, that like plagues of locust, our grown-up generations have stripped the nation’s resources, beshitted the global environment like we had a spare planet tucked in the garage under a tarp, presided over the destruction of our own middle class, and for a kicker, welcomed a parade of nationalist buffoons with fascist tendencies back into power. These kids can see the tribalism and they know that soon they’ll be ascendant. Their tribe is different than mine or yours. For now, they’re young, but for all the rest of their time on this planet, they will be multiracial, non-binary, non-dogmatic, digitally native, omnivorously curious, and significantly bigger than either the surviving Boomers or the aging Gen-Xers. These kids didn’t spring suddenly from nowhere. They’ve been watching us and learning from our nearly countless, self-imposed mistakes. They’ve seen us run in pointless ruts, like cattle through an abattoir, and they’ve decided that’s not for them, and so they called bullshit. They're calling bullshit and they're not making any safe space with their language for us if you consider this withering fusilade of truth from Mr. Hogg. “It is truly saddening to see how many of you have lost faith in America because we certainly haven’t and we are never going to. You might as well stop now because we are going to outlive you.” Yes, thank God, you will. But for as long as I can, I'll follow you into the future. I just hope I can keep up. I have so much to learn. #Enough #MarchForOurLives

[sosexyalmostevil]

Sapphy Out of Context II: Electric Boogaloo

“YOU’VE BEEN CUPPED, BITCH!”

“Everybody knows that Goku can kick Naruto’s ass.”

“Look at you, you’re so primitive. I have a caveman as a girlfriend. My dream of dating Eep from the Croods has become true.”

“Hey! Who’s the pirate here?”

*doing a terrible impression of Towlie* Hi I’m Towlie and I’m fucking high as balls!”

“Them’s fightin’ words!”

“We’ve gotta watch Laserblast, dude.”

“Remember that time we got Mario to dab? Good times.”

“Sometimes you come to a point in your life where you just gotta run as fast as you can and inevitably die from whatever is ahead, then rage about it.”

“Imagine being in an unfamiliar house. Then imagine seeing things from your worst nightmares happening before you. Now imagine running out of said house only to be drug back in, nails scraping the ground. That’s only a MICRSCOPIC peek of fear Marissa and Hymel felt walking into our domain that Halloween. Pretty horrifying stuff, Cassie.”

“I LOVE BEING PURPLE!”

“Swiggity Swanus, prepare your anus.”

“Fuck you, Cindy! Lemon Oreos are the best Oreos!”

“Breaking News: I’m really fucking immature.”

“I’ve always wanted to kiss Ember McClain, okay? And before you ask, Ross, no I wouldn’t pull a Randy Stair to meet her. I’m immature, not literally insane.”

“Oh wow. Someone made a Quest for Camelot reference on /mhg/. How... random actually...”

“I’ve got blisters on me fingers!”

“Sally Stageplay, Cala Maria, and Baroness Von Bon Bon are all cute as FUCK.”

“So Ash, I heard you like Mudkips.”

*plays ocarina*

“I heard Satan gives guitar lessons for a good deal.”

“I had a dream you got a tattoo of Sans on your butt and you vowed to never wear pants again.”

“Are you telling me that we should make a Bin Weevils account? Because that’s fucking genius.”

“I literally named my Gardevoir after you; A$$-lynn.”

“Totally Spies was literally fetish: the show.”

“What was with the early 2000’s and having literally every girl in a crop top? It’s just something I’ve noticed.”

“At one point Mads had a Neopet named MassiveSket.”

“Hey Ben can we change the topic my girlfriends’ huge thighs?”

“I never said that this wouldn’t become a Gone Wrong, Gone Sexual type o’ deal.”

“As they say in St. Olaf, Helgenbargenflergenflurfennerfen”

“One time I found a to go box filled with food in a Jurassic Park arcade Machine.”

“Bwaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!!”

“I’m actually raging hard enough this chairs beginning to melt.”

“They did the mash. They did the monster mash.”

“Hey Ash you came in time to see that Laura is shlumped.”

“Release the Party Freak; Freddie Freaker.”

“Squiddly Diddly came into my house and stole all the churros, Ben! America is fucked! The world will burn!”

“Silence! I KEEL YOU!”

“Get away! I'm too pink to die!”

“Ay Caramba!”

“Sometimes I actually ENJOY plowing through and leaving behind chaos, thank you very much.”

“Someone get me off this merry-go-round called life!”

“Oh? Excuse me for doing pop culture jokes.”

“Hey Mackenzy, you’re the only broad I know who puts bacon on everything.”

“Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red-hot hoochie-coocher...”

“I like to think that I’m the more musical one out of the two of us.”

“If I had a penny every time you said I looked like Weird Al, I’d be able to buy everything out from under Trump a trillion times over.”

*narrirator voice* “...and that’s how Cindy found out she was attracted to Mackenzy’s thighs”

“Oh JJ, fuse with me~”

“I SHALL RAISE THE DEAD!”

*in a shitty skeletor voice* He-Man! I can’t control my murderous urges! NYYYYAAAAHHHH”

“They should make a movie called Cindy’s Ass: Maximum Squish.”

“Why is there a pop tart nailed to the ceiling?”

“Is rather stick my dick in an anthill.”

“I’ll have you know that I can play the ocarina you fucking asshat.”

“Apparently Hamilme is Binweevil famous. What a dork.”

*angry deer sounds*

*Join me as I launch this rock into the air at maximum velocity.”

“They say waffles are pancakes with abs.”

“Remember: draw dicks on everything. Also no buttholes.”

“It takes effort to rob eggs from nests like I do, Ash.”

“Bloberta Puppington is kinda hot.”

“I think you’re gross for shipping yourself with that eggplant.”

“I haven’t eaten a Twinkie since the Permian, dude!”

“Your mum.”

“I’ve been sitting here for the past hour thinking of a funny way to say “futanari” out of context and I’ve literally got nothing.”

“You owe me one Cadbury Creame Egg and 420 Bells.”

“I smell fear. And it smells like sweat and weed.”

“No! I’m not gonna cosplay as Tom Nook! I can’t run around without a shirt, you know!”

“Where the fuck are your pants?!”

“My favorite joke ship is Blue Diamond x Yellow Diamond x Pink Diamond x Bloberta Puppington x Cala Maria x Ghoulia Yelps x a drawing of Figment. It’s hilarious.”

*Bobby Hill voice* “Okeh Dad.”

“Holy FUCK Pink Diamond is a cutie.”

“I’ve got Hoodoo, I got Voodoo, I got things I ain’t even tried! I got friends on the other side!”

*jokingly* “I hate your smile, I hate your uh.. fingers, I hate your that stupid look on your face. It’s so fucking doofy and it’s making me lose concentration, Ash.”

“Fucking Winx Club lore, man.”

“Hold me.”

“Oh bravo. You fucked up. Again.”

“I’ll have you know I watched Life in the Dreamhouse last night and it’s actually kinda funny. Check your privilege.”

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

“I need some salsa on these chips.”

“It’s a small world, I’m so gay. It’s a small world, I’m so gay. It’s a small world, I’m so gay. You. will. DIE.”

“I smell shenanigans!”

“I’m not the one who mixed 7Up, Fanta, Pepsi, and Hi-C together.”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

“Chloe’s gonna feel a burn alright. A burn called HER FACE SLAMMING INTO THE PAVEMENT!”

“Honk off you dastardly doodybasket!”

“You’re not getting it. I really like a movie about a rag doll saving a friend from pirates.”

“So I read this one book and it was like being kicked in the nads by a fucking cassowary.”

“Trollhunters was good. Shot Steven Universe right outta the water.”

“Quit drawing penis people, Dax!”

“You wanna see scary? Ohhoho... I can be scary.”

“Changeling? What’s that suppos- Oh! Haha! You’re referencing me being trans... aren’t you? *goofy smile*

“What do you call a dweeb who sucks at Mario World? Y O U!”

“That’s when Ashlynn started chomping down on Trix in a raging fit after her death in Ocarina of Time.”

“Macho Macho Man I’ve gotta be a Macho Man.”

“Sometimes, Ash, you gotta dance the magic dance. Also fuck what others think. You’re drop dead gorgeous at all times.”

*whistles Hall of the Mountain King ominously*