#Pitzer

[roughridingrednecks]

Pitzer

[marc-broidy]

Seattle Skies

[bestdesignart]

Pitzer College T-Shirt

I hope you will enter the following website https://linktr.ee/designarttee and buy something

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin # 13:

The Mountain Goats' Sweden

Here's a (Mostly) True story:

In the fall of 1995, John Darnielle, the founder, songwriter, frontman (and, occasionally, the sole member) of The Mountain Goats taught me how to cook.

As a second year student at Pomona College I took the one on-campus job no one else wanted: fast food line cook. No one wanted the job because it required actual labor; every other on-campus job involved sitting at a desk in a library, museum, gym or office while doing your homework. But I was ready to heat oil, and labor. I was ready to eat as much free ice cream as I could in-between orders.

The job was an odd choice for a vegetarian like me at the time: I spent the first hour of every shift slicing enough partially thawed, homogenized meat for the full day of orders ahead; once both of my hands were entirely numb from the meat's cold it was time to drink a giant vat of free Sprite and then move on to other prep tasks. Slice the tomatoes. Fire up the grill. Then, once the place opened, I'd spend the rest of my shift burning all that sliced meat to a crisp for altered and/or indifferent fellow college students.

John Darnielle trained me. He'd already released two records at that point, but I had no idea who the hell he was. My ignorance drove him nuts.

By the time he arrived each day my hands were already numb and my personally selected music was already on the stereo system. In the fall of 95 that meant a heavy rotation of Guided By Voices' Alien Lanes, Uncle Tupelo records and Yo La Tengo's Electr-O-Pura. I'd put on Tom Waits' The Black Rider at closing time so everyone would go the hell home; that always cleared the room.

But I never played The Mountain Goats; I'd never even heard of them. Throughout that fall I worked alongside a blossoming rock star. And I had no clue whatsoever.

John was the first and only friend I've ever had who wore a leather jacket. He was also ridiculously old for an undergraduate; we're talking mid-to-late-twenties. Every day he'd arrive, compliment my taste in music, trade his jacket for a weathered apron and then look at me earnestly. It was weird. I saw that he wanted me to say something, that he wanted me to know something. Desperately. But I had no idea what the hell it was.

After a bit he'd sigh and begin the day's training. Here's how to flip 'em kid; here's how to fire up that grill.

Then, at some point, he just broke down and told me: he knew James McNew; he had a record deal; he was just back from a tour of Germany, where people were crazy for any kind of American music; he was starting to make some real money (hence the leather jacket). He thought I'd like his music.

At that point I'm afraid I made the situation much, much worse. I laughed at John Darnielle and accused him of lying.

"Yeah right, dude. You're a rock star. And I'm the queen of England."

He listened. He paused. Then he shut down the register and said we needed to go outside. And so we went. College kids stood about, confused. Who was gonna get them their curly fries if the kid in The Dead t-shirt and the weird old guy took a break?

I remember, like yesterday, standing next to him in the sun. He'd taken off his apron and put his leather jacket back on. The vibe was very weird.

"Look, I'm not joking," he said. "My band used to play shows here on campus, but we're just too big for that now. Go to Rhino records; you're a vinyl guy, right? They've got my latest album on vinyl for like 7 bucks."

(Remember: this was the secret golden age of vinyl: CDs cost $12-15 and records of the same thing cost $7-12. And we all thought we needed to spend more for the CDs! If I had a time machine, I would not go back and see who killed JFK; rather, I'd spend a sweet summer with Jane Austen and then propose marriage to her, then I'd travel to 1969 to see Neil and Crazy Horse live, THEN I'd go back to 95 and buy everything I could grab on vinyl CHEAP.)

Okay, back to John Darnielle in 95: "Look: my new record is called Sweden," he said. "Only it has absolutely nothing to do with Sweden. That's the joke. Listen to it; you'll know it's me right away. I sing like I talk. People think we have like 25 members in the band, but it's really just me and this girl who plays bass. I lie in my songs, all the time. But I'm not lying to you."

And then he just walked off. In the middle of his shift! I was left to man the counter on my own. Fries were ordered; burgers were burned to a fabulous crisp. And The Black Rider came on way early. I had something I needed to do.

As soon as the quitting bell rang I hopped on my bike and road straight to the record store. As usual, the counter was manned by the angriest guy in the whole world. His name was probably Haemon, and he always sneered at whatever I was buying. This was years before High Fidelity, but he was already auditioning for Jack Black's part. The dude just hated me. I remember buying a Sonic Youth Tee in there one time. He ripped me apart while ringing me up. Is it any wonder that a few years later we all decided to shop on Amazon?

Anyway, by the time I got to the store, I'd pretty much decided John Darnielle was for real. And quite quickly I found his record, walked it to the counter, handed it over guiltily (Rhino Records had their workers stand behind a counter that was a full two feet higher than the sales floor so as to allow Jack Black Sr. behind the counter, who was tall to begin with, maximum superiority over his pathetic customers), and then, for the first and only time, the guy did not give me a hard time.

"Well, well, well," he said. "You're finally buying something of value. Poser."

(Remember when we all called each other "poser"? Now we all call each other unprintable things. Ah, the 90's...)

Well, you can see where this is going. The Mountain Goats were indeed that guy John from my day job. His singing was ridiculous, like Lou Reed if he was a passionate player of Magic, The Gathering. His melodies were infectious, like Bob Pollard if he was earnest, not drunk. His lyrics were cute and bizarre, like Dylan if he actually attended college, then managed to double major in Classics and English. The recording process was infantile, like me in the kitchen. Or rather, like me in life.

It was all precious. It was all awesome.

I returned to work a day or six later, eager to see my new friend John and tell him all about it. He was a genius! He was Robyn Hitchcock meets Johnathan Richman; he was Thomas Pynchon with a guitar; he was my new hero.

And then, I never saw him again. That moment in the sun turned out to be the last moment we ever spent together. I guess he went and got a life.

Hello out there, John! It's 28 years later and your recent publicity pics make you look, in the words of one of this blogs' 40+ (wow!) readers, like an alternative high school teacher: he sees you; he respects your pronouns. Guess what, John? That's a better description of me than you these days. You're playing the Belly Up this fall. I'm not even playing Magic, The Gathering.

So go, take a listen to Sweden! It's great. Check out the hilarious T.S. Eliot intro to I Wonder Where Our Love Has Gone. Enjoy the alternative Swedish titles for every song. Be reminded of how Hercules died: consumed by an article of his own clothing. Flip to the B Side and enjoy a nice coconut cream pie.

And while you are listening, picture an earnest and very talented guy in a leather jacket in 1995, patiently teaching a very young and hopeful kid how to flip burgers and fry up the grill. See him. See me. We're both dreaming of incredible futures: incredible futures that came true.

Happy Friday everyone! And John, while I've got you here: thanks for being patient and nice to me way back then. I'm sorry I needed you to introduce me to your music. Please tell Stephen Stills he sucks.

[800db-cloud]

Idk if you're still doing the ask game, but:

✂️ for Mr Orange/Max?

✂️ What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

oh anon you just asked a very, very loaded question. i like the way you think

Trigger Warning for mentions of a family member dying and suicide. Please continue with caution. Stay safe.

Under the read more is also some spoilers for P💥zza T💥wer, so be mindful of that too!

when max was 12 years old, he woke up in the middle of the night just to find his father’s note on his nightstand. it explicitly told him to not go into the kitchen, but as curious as a child can be, he still went.

more than two decades later, it still haunts him. i made a comic a looong while ago about max trying to read the note again, and fakey sensing that something might be wrong.

(i headcanon that fakey can feed off of negative emotions, so if max starts to smell like food to him, he immediately knows something’s wrong)

max is a character i’ve written a lot about, and a good chunk of his story and character is self-projection. while i thankfully haven’t had any immediate family members die like this, my heart goes out to those who have experienced it.

[nedlittle]

for the ask game: CORAL just for u bestie

[through tears] thank u

coral: an animal you wish hadn't gone extinct

i mean. i get sad thinking about any animal going extinct but i really want to talk about steller's sea cow

steller's sea cow was a sirenian (same family as manatees and dugongs) example of ice age megafauna. it outlived other ice age critters such as sabre-tooth cats and giant sloths, surviving all the way up to the 18th century. unlike its sirenian cousins, steller's sea cows lived in the icy waters of the bering strait; historical record only mentions them around the commander islands, but there is archaeological evidence that they hung out around the aleutian archipelago a thousand years ago, give or take (altho there are maybe some issues with radiocarbon dating and classification? idk i am not a scientist i am an idiot with wikipedia)

(yellow is their prehistoric range, blue is historical, and red is for archaeological evidence)

they were well-evolved for their environment, with 10 cm of thick blubber, dense bones, a transparent third eyelid, and no teeth. they ate exclusively seaweed and were apparently docile. they lived in small family groups and were monogamous. that they managed to survive so long is likely attributed to a lack of human contact*

*contact with white people.

steller's sea cow was first recorded in western science in 1741 by german scientist georg wilhem steller. steller was part of the great northern expedition/second kamchatka expedition, led by vitus bering for whom the bering sea is named. the expedition was shipwrecked for a year on its return journey from alaska, and it was then that steller's sea cow was first discovered, named, and researched by western scientists.

as i said before, they were docile & friendly animals without any real way of defending themselves. they were also positively buoyant, which made them difficult for killer whales to drown, but easy prey for hungry, curious humans. the population had been decreasing in the millennia since the ice age, and by the time steller and the rest of the crew first encountered them, there were only a couple thousand remaining at most.

their meat apparently tasted like corned beef, their fat like almond oil; their milk was turned into butter, and their hide into shoes and belts. in short, they were profitable, easy targets for hunters, fur traders, and nearby sailors.

other environmental factors contributed to their demise, but increased human contact could not have helped. in 1768, 27 years after they were first discovered, steller's sea cow was declared extinct. there were alleged sightings in the years after they were declared extinct, but there are no sea cows in the bering sea today, and there haven't been for over 200 years.

if i think about steller's sea cow--twice the size of a manatee, gentle and loyal with no means of defence, and hunted to extinction within three decades of formal discovery--i become blinded by tears and holy rage. thanks for coming to my ted talk, there's a solid article going more into the science from the atlantic.

[pmg227]

Favorite Reads of May '24

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird The Kingdoms of Savannah George Dawes Green. Savannah is a beautiful city to visit—full of history, good food, and atmosphere. But, for the people who live there, there is a darker side which can go unseen unless you know where to look. When a building burns down with a…

[simplicius-simplicissimus]

A Lazy Afternoon…

„Procrastination is my sin. It brings me naught but sorrow. I know that I should stop it. In fact, I will…tomorrow!“

-Gloria Pitzer

[roughridingrednecks]

Pitzer

[marc-broidy]

[odinsblog]

“First, H.R. 6090 could result in colleges and universities suppressing a wide variety of speech critical of Israel or in support of Palestinian rights in an effort to avoid investigations by the Department and the potential loss of funding, even where such speech is protected and does not qualify as harassment. Even without H.R. 6090, advocacy groups have already filed or threatened to file numerous Title VI complaints and lawsuits, alleging that colleges have violated Title VI merely by condoning Palestinian rights groups, events, and advocacy. For example, in September 2023, the pro-Israel group Santa Fe Middle East Watch claimed that the University of New Mexico's anthropology department would violate the New Mexico Governor's executive order using this same definition of antisemitism if they hosted Mohammed El-Kurd, a Palestinian poet and writer currently serving as the Nation's Palestine correspondent.

Moreover, in February 2020, the David Horowitz Freedom Center sent a letter to Pomona and Pitzer college officials alleging “the colleges’ liability under Title VI” for, among other things, co-sponsoring a Students for Justice in Palestine event featuring a screening of the film ‘Gaza Fights for Freedom,’ and funding a panel on “Perspectives on Colleges and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict.”

Additionally, there have been multiple instances of university censorship of pro-Palestinian expression after the October 7 Hamas attack on Israel. These include the University of Pennsylvania denying a screening of a documentary which raises concerns some young Jews have about Israel's treatment of Palestinians, and Brandeis University banning the student group Students for Justice in Palestine.* Equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism by law, under a threat of investigation, will only create more fear in schools, prompting administrators to silence this speech regardless of whether it is protected.

Second, even where administrators do not take formal action, students and their organizations, faculty, and university staff may be deterred from speaking and organizing on these issues. Activists would be understandably hesitant to engage in political expression criticizing Israel or advocating for Palestinian rights if they have reason to believe the federal government will actively investigate such expression in connection with harassment complaints and investigations.

Finally, the bill would likely inspire an increasing number of complaints focused on constitutionally protected criticism of Israel. These complaints will not only cause schools to limit speech out of fear, but will also force both the Department and covered universities to devote time and resources to addressing complaints about constitutionally protected speech, instead of meritorious harassment complaints.”

(source) (source)

[eightyonekilograms]

“We should actively foster a new type of marriage and childbearing culture,” [Xi] said in a speech, adding that it was the role of party officials to influence young people’s views on “love and marriage, fertility and family.” ... This stands in stark contrast to a decade ago, when top officials stressed the importance of both equality and women’s self-realization, said Hanzhang Liu, a political studies professor at Pitzer College who has examined speeches by senior officials at several congresses over the past two decades. “Women’s work was once about women for themselves, women for women’s sake,” said Ms. Liu, referring to the party’s jargon for gender issues. “Now what they are saying is that women’s rightful place in society — where they can do the most meaningful work — is at home with the family.”

It'll take a little while, and some people will be dragged into it kicking and screaming and wailing, but eventually it will become just obvious common knowledge that Xi is an ordinary right-wing politician leading an ordinary right-wing government.

[jkottke]

Andrea Pitzer, who has written a history of concentration camps: “Trump’s language about immigrants ‘poisoning’ the U.S. repeats past rhetoric that led to civilian detention camps, with horrific, tragic results.”

[pitzer]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort Characters: Harry Potter, Tom Riddle | Voldemort Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Suicidal Voldemort, Tortured Voldemort, Broken Voldemort, Compassionate Harry Potter, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Part Three of Memento Mori Series, POV Voldemort (Harry Potter), POV Harry Potter, Isolated Harry Potter, sequel to Terminal Lucidity Series: Part 3 of Memento Mori Series, Part 6 of Short Stories and One Shots Summary:

Voldemort is a shell of his former self, a result of continuous torture, both as revenge for the things he’s done and as ways to test his endurance, his immortality. He’s been captured post-war, memories of his misdeeds gone, and death, someday, somehow, is the only hope he dares to feed inside himself. That is, until he gets a visitor in the form of his supposed nemesis, Harry Potter. Harry has had his own life turned upside down by post-war expectations, by dreams and fears, and now, by the discovery of what his enemy has been enduring this whole time. He should never come back, pretend he doesn’t know what goes on in the lowest levels of Azkaban, but he can’t. He keeps showing up, and people around him start to notice. But Harry doesn’t care, not as he feels more alive next to that prison cell than he’s felt in years on the outside. Whenever he’s there, Voldemort is free from pain, and they, despite it all, both crave the high that comes with it. Whatever the price may be.

can't believe I forgot to share it when I posted it two days ago lol