#hipster swastika

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

[salvatriceaverse]

Fukuyama had predicted an obsession with form removed from anything like political life, as if the hipsters of the mid-aughts would invent nihilism. Some poets begin to speak in terms of a sincerity / irony binary. It’s possible the binary doesn’t apply to anything of note — not even in the always late United States where young people in black fuck up Starbucks & the Gap during the 1999 WTO protests in Seattle. Then again some of them claim a swastika can be ironic, while others claim it’s merely cultural, which is to say marginalized people should calm down, which is to suggest a swastika is a swastika is a swastika, which is to say it’s the swastika you’re afraid of, what the swastika can do & not the history of the people who make it what it is, which is not over, which is dead wrong.

Wendy Trevino, Trampa De Dedos / Finger Trap, in Cruel Fiction (via)

[godslayingenthusiast]

https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/nightmare-worlds/

Nightmare Worlds is a work from Holy Nonsense, a Creative Commons project. View Holy Nonsense 2020 here.

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Sometimes I immerse myself in nightmare worlds on the internet. There’s the extreme metal community, for example — particularly the parts of it that revolve around black metal, and especially so called “NSBM” and I have never seen the things happening in these parts before. They’re tearing each other to pieces — there’s one part of it that’s all “ok so this ironic nazi shit has to stop now were ruining everything” and another part that’s like “wait rofl you were being ironic?” I’m mesmerized in these forgotten chatrooms on ancient p2p file sharing programs, it’s like watching David Icke with a swastika tattooed on each eyeball vs hipsters who are suddenly uncomfortably aware that their replica schutzstaffel uniforms are enabling things they don’t agree with but they can’t be genuine about it -Words from the Maw of the Void

[grandhotelabyss]

Drawing together some recent themes, above we have two excerpts from Douglas Rushkoff and Michael Avon Oeming’s graphic novel Aleister & Adolf (2016). It’s an engaging thriller about the mage Crowley’s use of sigil magic to defeat the Nazis. Crowley sets the V-for-Victory, its vulvic openness and its reminiscence of the phallic Hebrew vav adding up to sex-charged vitality, against the death-suffused swastika. But Rushkoff represents Crowley’s coup as leading directly to the "fascism” of the American market in its corporate form, the corporation’s own sigils lording over the landscape as all-encompassing advertisement that imprisons individuals in the guise of liberating them. The frame narrative revealing the birth of corporatism from the spirit of occultism is set in 1995, as a young proto-hipster discovers the secret origin of the company he works for. When he’s upbraided for his “ironic” use of fascist imagery in his art—Rushkoff’s anxious DFW-style autocritique of Gen-X whateverism—we’re meant to understand that corporate capitalism uses the let’s-pretend of irony to conceal its parasitism on the fascism whose defeat gave it life. The 2021 re-release features an interview where Rushkoff frets over right-wing “meme magic.” 

But art is not magic. Magic influences the world directly. You design a sigil that encodes your desire, you charge it (generally through orgasm, singly or in company), and then you wait for the universe to grant your request, whether that is to make money, to meet girls, or to defeat Hitler. The magic act or spell is indeed identical to advertisement, as well as to propaganda and pornography: it’s supposed to have a direct, intended effect on the recipient of the message. Whether overt or covert, magic means marching orders.     

Art, by contrast, is art only by virtue of its having no such palpable design on the audience. It’s an occasion for hypothetical experience, for sensations and ideas; it exists to tease us out of thought. It is without purpose, said a German philosopher, and for its own sake, to quote a French poet. Its political effect, if it has one, is to allow a community to convoke around a collective event and shared object of contemplation, not to be moved to some decisive act, some overwhelming intention, but to participate together in the emotion it invites or to deliberate together over its significance. Art arrests action; it does not provoke it. 

A modern category, art derives, I suspect, from devotional objects and religious rituals that gradually became untethered from whatever pragmatic purpose in the night of time (harvest, rain) to which the anthropologist can no doubt trace them and developed instead into occasions to consider the immensity of things. Of what immediate practical purpose is the Catholic mass, the Jewish sabbath?

But art is not religion; because art lacks worship’s transcendent addressee, it exists under the sign of irony, which, because it reminds us of the gap between thought and reality, marks the artwork’s secular distance from the workaday world.[*] To read past irony’s reminder of the limits to thought—to see it merely as the alibi for a disavowed set of authoritative marching orders—is a classic technique of Marxist criticism, which dissolves art back into propaganda, i.e., magic, no less than does capitalist advertising.

All of which brings us to Rushkoff’s conflation not only of magic and art, but of magic and politics. This may be why he won’t go on Steve Bannon’s podcast. In the magical worldview, there is no discourse or deliberation, only the dissemination of sigils, the construction of egregores. To speak publicly to Bannon is to charge up his potent symbols, not to present his audience with an alternative set of arguments and ideas to which they might be persuaded. If there is no politics, only magic, then we are indeed in a world war; we certainly aren’t, however, in a republic. 

__________________________________

[*] Before anyone writes in to object, I am aware these categories are porous. Works of visual propaganda may age out of political relevance but remain valued for their artistic beauty; poems may be written to worship God; films made with the most serious intent could work for some people as pornography. But the porousness of categories does not disprove their existence; nothing is absolute, but, still, everything can’t be the same as everything else.

[onegirllis]

Since Life is Strange 2 is finally fully released, I let myself to write a probably not-so-short review of the complete season. The momentum for such a summary is already gone I presume but it took me a moment to finally digest and find the proper words to describe what I think and feel about this production. Following the game from the start, I patiently waited to look at the story as a whole, hoping to find an explanation for tons of burning questions and satisfying outcomes to my choices and decisions. Unfortunately, most of those didn’t happen, therefore I present you with a piece that is not very favorable towards the newest Dontnod production, harsh in places but honest. Please, do not read if you really enjoyed the story of the two brothers and find it meaningful and important, not burdened with any fallacy. Life is way too short to read reviews that just leave you frustrated.

Remember the scene in Life is Strange season one (I still hate the fact that I have to separate different instances of the franchise calling them seasons), when Max summoned by an enormous plasma TV in Victoria’s room fantasizes about watching “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” on it? “I like this movie, I don’t care what everybody says,” getting protective about her preferences, the little freckle leaves the room soon after, never gifting us with any explanation as to why she indeed values this animation so much or why it was an important statement. It was never brought back again, it will never matter, becoming simply a meme material or a trigger for snarky comments from Twitch streamers and YouTubers. I watched the said movie a long time ago, recalling only two things about it: the breathtaking animation of hair at the beginning and the fact that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck. The rest of the story fell into obscurity before the end credits hit the screen. I reached for this title only because I was interested in anything video games related, and the name of the popular franchise was more than enough.

The same thing goes for Life is Strange 2.

Just like the mentioned FF: The Spirits Within, the second instance of the beloved series is more of an animation than an interactive experience. Recently, plenty of video games, overwhelmed by finally reachable technology of smooth mocaps, facial expressions, hyper-realistic locations, and scanned people as characters, turned into an alley dedicated to B-class movies. From adventures by David Cage to Death Stranding, video games started to flip their working template, replacing the actual action with long animations, not the other way around. With scattered gameplay, sometimes forced as if the developers reminded themselves at the last minute that this product is supposed to be interactive, they raise an eyebrow at best, and boil your blood with the lack of creativity at its worst. Life Is Strange 2 follows this trend with astonishing enthusiasm and to the core. Even regarding this particular genre that’s supposed to focus on narrative, it barely stands as a walking simulator becoming a hardly watchable TV series — a road trip story where walking is limited.

Well, shit.

The gameplay in Life is Strange 2 is nonexistent. To be frank, riveting action-packed sequences were never a trademark of the series, but a blatant lack of any didn’t make this experience any better. With the first one, the rewind power allowed the player to actually be part of the narrative. The second, where Sean just serves as a witness to his brother’s actions, plays more like a full motion picture. An enormous amount of un-skippable cut-scenes change LIS2 into a tedious, dragging journey straight from the worst selection of buy 1 get 3 free Z-class movies. The music and the mastery in creating an atmosphere that rose Dontnod to international fame due to widespread acclaim can’t save those sequences either. It almost feels like their own creation so enchanted the development team that they ignored all the red flags and clumsy solutions to immerse in the world themselves, treating the actual player as a lesser evil, throwing them a bone just to claim it is a video game format. To no surprise, most of the items the player interacts with don’t matter at all and don’t serve any purpose either to foreshadow an upcoming outcome, present exposition to the world, or be in any way helpful.

The lack of superpower is not an issue here though. Before the Storm met the expectations with way more grace, proving that a story doesn’t need a lot of strange in life to grip and hold its audience for hours. Watching a superhero growing up is an interesting premise, but a hell of a challenge to execute and execute well. Some stories like “Little Man Tate” translate to a brilliant film, but don’t necessarily work as games, after the planning stage or first Game Design Document. The references regarding the first game also remain scattered and uneven, tossed on the pile with a heap of faith that devoted fans would notice, but without a purpose in mind.

Even if I sound harsh, I do believe that Dontnod wanted to deliver the best story possible, but Life is Strange 2 feels even too big to absorb or fill with details. Captain Spirit, not necessarily my cup of tea either, was in my opinion way more coherent, as the creative team felt more comfortable with such a small scope of a product. Everything falls into place after careful exploration, makes more sense with every minute. The mystery about the mother, an alumnus of Blackwell Academy, and an admirer of Jefferson’s work is a solid premise that didn’t raise expectations up the roof nor overpromise. The mystery of yet another mother, this time Life is Strange 2, played for over 3 and a half episodes, falls flat in comparison and ends in the disappointing question “that’s it?”

No, that’s not it. There’s more to it.

Life is Strange 1 was mocked as Tumblr: The Game, while the second instance could easily pass as Twitter: The Animated Series. The writers didn’t challenge themselves or the audience to answer the question of why certain people voted for Donald Trump, or why they would do it yet again. The only reason presented in the story is quite simplistic and obvious – because they are evil, deplorable people, not worth listening to. They are the worst. We are better. Issues of being harangued by foreigners about domestic policies and troubles of your own country are a brewing can of worms I wouldn’t like to touch at the moment. Still, this particular stance, which serves as painful generalization that every single republican voter in the US is foul, can be forged only by someone who either lives in a bubble or doesn’t live here at all. Simply because we all have parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, or co-workers who decided to elect the actual prescient to power. Some of them are racists, disgusting, and horrible personas, and some just belong to the scared of change, confused and manipulated crowd that don’t accept the fast-paced transformation nor the need for a revolution. We coexist together, arguing and fighting, especially during holiday breaks, but even if it costs me a headache, I wouldn’t call them evil. Millions of people voted for Trump, but only a few wouldn’t spit on a swastika if confronted with the Nazi banner.

It’s even more painful when you understand what kind of message was sewed into the stitches of a shattered story. There was no ill will, or at least I don’t think so, but an honest, genuine need to express the concern about modern America. Unfortunately, when executed, this concern changed into another yell or discourse by the family table during an argument with your racist uncle. An open discussion in a game community that unifies both left and right supporters equally by their love for this form of entertainment would be appreciated by many, just like after playing LIS1, a handful of people changed their views on LGBT issues.

Instead of a lesson that had to be experienced, we got a lecture about morality and tolerance, contradicting itself constantly and nonchalantly following the well-known tropes NOT in a sarcastic and admirable way known from Saturday Night Live, but in a lazy and sometimes even clumsy substitute of a dramatic format. The political landscape painted in LIS2 is caricatural, unforgiving, harsh like a deserted wasteland with a few peaceful oases to stop at, but shies over its own existence, not willing to thoroughly discuss the dreadful weather. Guess what? The sand won’t change into greener pastures only because you close your eyes, putting your imagination to work. Donald Trump might not be re-elected for a second term, but his supporters will stay in place, even more conflicted by the other side. It’s a brave decision to deliver such a punitive story but such a cowardice to break its pillars, hoping that the general public wouldn’t notice or get distracted when things get too heated up.

The lack of subtlety forced scene by scene is even more polarizing. There is no peaceful dialogue with the other side as if it couldn’t exist in this world. There is no change of heart or a path to do so. Sometimes it feels like the only message that LIS2 writers wanted to provide was to find your own, peaceful and liberal hermitage, either among hipsters in the Redwood forest, driving a car that your ‘family with money but no soul’ had bought you or move to a trailer park filled with artistic souls in Nowhere, Arizona. Any contact with the outside world can hurt you and your feelings. Drop off the grid or die. The end.

No discussion.

The efforts of trying to understand the motivation behind even the most dreadful character of the first game, got lost in preparation for the second. LIS2 builds a higher wall between two political sides, than any other game released after Trump became the president of the United States and desperately wants to keep it erected, ignoring the crumbling foundations of such. A proverbial river you shall not cross nor build bridges over since the only outcome would end up in death, destruction, or you and your young brother getting hurt.

I’m familiar with the discussion about LIS2, especially with a shouting match that if you do not like this instance, you are therefore a racist pig, a disgusting person without a soul, conscience, or working brain that doesn’t understand the situation and never will. On the contrary. In my humble opinion, we deserve a better discussion, better stories, better representation, not sticking to whatever is presented because it’s brave enough or was never approached before. I disagree with the stance that a Latino, bisexual main character is enough to close your eyes, omitting all problems that this title tries to shun, riding its high horse. No. Those topics are way too crucial to just walk past, setting for less with your head down, thanking for the game industry to take notice. You the player deserve better, even if you don’t struggle with specific issues on a daily basis. And after playing LIS2, you may feel so good about yourself, stating that an effort was made but it it wasn’t made enough.

I expected more. I wanted Dontnod to do more, and frankly, I feel silly putting so much faith in them and supporting their efforts. Armed with resources provided by Square Enix, I’m sure they are aware of the fact that most of their audience is quite young and wouldn’t mind a lesson or message about what to do amidst troubled times. Well, Dontnod doesn’t have any but warns you that voicing your opinion or being different may end up in disaster. Outraged, they just yell at the news, angry about what our reality has changed into, but nothing comes out of it. It’s all right, though. Our parents do the same thing. We started to do the same thing, but instead of complaining to family members, we have Twitter.

While Life is Strange 2 tries really hard to come across as a realistic and raw portrait of the US at the end of the decade, they didn’t have enough courage to show realistic obstacles two runaways would be faced with. The brothers do meet a handful of bigots and racists, but the rest of the fellow travelers help them beyond understanding or hidden agenda. Sean and Daniel never really struggle to find a place to stay or a warm meal, usually complaining on or off the screen just before the game mercifully provides them with a solution. There’s no trap they can fall into, no ambiguous characters that promise one thing and then demand something in return. It’s very honorable for Brody to pay for a place to stay, but if an adult man gave young kids a key to a motel room, I would consider a way more sinister outcome. It’s not even about Brody himself, since good people exist, just like the racist ones, but the boys not even once are put in a realistic, scary situation created by a supposed ally. If somebody is helpful, this person is always decent, offering them a job, a ride, some food or money. The bad people wear red hats and yell racist slurs. America by Dontnod is simple to navigate but raw and painful when not necessary and fairy-tale-like when it could teach an actual lesson. Running away from home is not so hazardous because of Trump supporters but because you can end up dead in a ravine, being robbed and raped. It’s not the first and surely not the last time when the developers feared to touch any topic of sexual abuse with a ten-foot pole, but then the journey plays more like a vacation than a desperate escape. Sean gets beaten-up a few times, loses his eye due to a brawl, but it doesn’t affect him at all in the long run. When Daniel finally gets kidnapped, it’s not an Epstein-like circle, dealing with human trafficking, but a religious cult that worships him. The first option, even if it feels like a stretch, is unfortunately way more realistic than the latter.

Preaching to the choir is not the biggest sin this game commits though. That brings me to the most discussed theme of the production, which is education.

With all due respect to the developers, writers, and designers, Life is Strange 2 in this aspect falls flat as a discovery of a Sunday father, who is responsible for taking his kid to the zoo and struggles to find any common ground with his offspring, either trying to crack jokes about famous pop-culture phenomena or talk about food discussing their next favorite meal. The said father is trying his best though, perfectly aware that it’s his only chance to teach his son a thing or two, but doesn’t know exactly where to start, torn apart between buying more ice cream and throwing a fit about a stain on the carpet. The father doesn’t even like kids that much and can’t translate his lessons into an engaging play that would be memorized forever, rolling his eyes and counting the days to his kid’s graduation so they could share a beer or two and talk about adult things. Now, any effort to explain how the world works seems to be in vain, therefore a waste of his precious time. Leaving the emotional approach aside, the father doesn’t have to cuddle with his kid when he’s scared, bullied, traumatized or asks millions of questions about the future or present, because the full-time mother is waiting at home willing to replace him in this duty. The mother, knowing that her ex-partner sucks big time at talking about feelings, will be the one who will hold the kid, patiently explaining that the boogieman does not exist, playing pirates, or stay late at night to distract his sorrows. The kid will never discuss his fears with his dad though, trying so hard to impress his male parent. He will never know, and it’s fine. The mother is going to do the job while he can deliver a once a week entertainment along with the lines of ultimate wisdom that most likely will be forgotten anyway.

This is not raising a kid, it’s nursing them like a fragile plant in a flowerpot, focusing on water, sun, and fertilizer, but discarding the emotional background, hoping that somebody else would take care of such issues if things go south.

Sean can’t raise his brother well, simply because he is immature and will stay immature for the rest of the game. There is no moment when he truly goes through a transformation changing from a boy to a man, a fully grown-up adult who takes responsibility for his actions and makes sacrifices for the sake of the greater good. No, surrendering in a fight in the church doesn’t serve as one, neither does the first sexual experience. He doesn’t wonder even once if the hastily constructed plan is benefiting Daniel, forcing it to the last minutes of the game, taking the separation as the worst thing that could happen. There’s no spark of a tragedy like in “The Road” when a father gives up his son to strangers for the sake of saving him. Sean doesn’t care, presenting no character development across the board, merely pushing forward. If there are doubts, they disappear in the blink of an eye when the next cut-scene takes place.

I understand that such a young lad as Sean wouldn’t know how to raise a kid, especially if having no model to rely on. However, a part of growing pains is developing the awareness that we know way less than we assumed. That said, Sean Diaz is always assuming he is right, not asking for advice regarding Daniel even once. Apparently, it’s not something that he’s interested in or ever will be. If Life is Strange 2 wants to pass as a coming of age story, it falls on its face before it even starts.

Moreover, locked in the auto-driven plot, Sean cannot grow up and gain a new perspective; otherwise, the story wouldn’t reach its big, explosion-packed finale of crossing the border. His desperate efforts of influencing his brother usually converge to order him around, feed him with half-truths or simply leave him in the dark when convenient. I didn’t see any difference or change in Sean’s approach from episode one when he scolded his brother, annoyed for his party plans being interrupted, and in episode three, when he reacts similarly, for the sake of spending time alone with the chosen love interest. There’s no deep thought, no wonder about his own wrongdoings expressed to his brother, no faults admitted, no fallacies explained, with one life-threating situation after another. From an illegal weed growing farm, to destroying police stations, Sean just follows the road, paved by the writers, oblivious to the harm done to his younger sibling, as if Daniel simply forgets the morally gray choices, growing his moral spine entirely on performing chores. Washing the dishes and peeling potatoes does not make us better people but understanding a perspective so different than our own does. Thanks to Sean, Daniel expands his world, but it’s a very one-sided perspective, focusing on always praised, hippie-style liberties, and disregarding every option that requires any code of conduct, as represented by the grandparents. While the older brother forces the younger one to keep up with the designed tasks, he never discusses the issues that really matter. In episode 3, the youngster gets involved in a heist, a robbery, but after it fails, costing Sean his eye and the possible death of some of their companions, this is never mentioned. Mexico, a plan that is hardly a plan at all, is supposed to be an answer to all the questions and doubts. El Dorado of knowledge.

This is not how you raise a dog, not to mention a child.

There is no emotional bond, no special ties between the brothers, except a few problematic moments that play mostly on simple connection forged by blood, not by circumstances. Sean worries about Daniel because he’s his brother, but the player starts to wonder quite quickly why and what for. Reminiscing about old times gets nailed down to a few lines about the comforts and amenities of a life long gone. The tough topics, such as grieving after personally witnessing their father’s death, are mentioned scarcely and without much emphasis, as if serving only as a reminder to the player, but not a poignant struggle. Same goes with the dog, their friends mutilated at the end of the weed farm chapter, Chris (aka captain spirit) who is mentioned just before the end credits of the second episode, and tons of others. On top of it, the scattered and not so often dialogue lines about putting people in danger refer only to the good folk, siding with the brothers, not to humankind in general. Killing a police officer or knocking down a gas station owner are just natural ways of how things work in America, honorable deeds since it’s apparently perfectly fine for a kid to attempt a homicide if people are mean.

What a brave story.

Chloe Price had been suffering for five years after William, her beloved father, died in a car crash. For Sean and Daniel, there is no grief to experience, but a memory to share with a plan to erect a monument in the future. Esteban Diaz is a plot device, a symbol of inequality, but not a family member. Even a dream sequence with his guest appearance lacks the impact of the subconscious conversations we’ve seen in Before the Storm. It just simply doesn’t matter.

I can’t believe I have to say this but the relatable part about LIS1 wasn’t the tornado, just like in LIS2 crossing the border is its weakest point, but it’s those small moments, gestures, quick smiles in passing, the atmosphere and a breath of fresh air when a line, sometimes silly, got dropped. In the most recent story, there is not a single line worth quoting, memorizing, or discussing. And please, don’t bring up “awesome possum” again. It’s literally taken from The Lego Movie song.

The brothers, just like Thelma and Louise, decide to leave everything behind, throwing away the life as they knew it and forging their own future despite all odds. Although, when the two desperate women drive off the cliff committing suicide, chased by the armed forces, there is nothing to explain as the audience fully understands their reasoning. Their will of life was strong, but the path they followed was too steep to return. Without any help or support, confronted with brutal honesty and the world’s cruelty around them, it is the best possible solution. The story of the two brothers, even if it tries to echo the iconic movie, couldn’t be more different. Despite resources at their disposal, family members that do care about their wellbeing, the whole community rising in protest in their hometown, they risk everything for the sake of getting back to the land they don’t even know. Their Mexican heritage is also mentioned just as an exposition, and, as we learn in the very last episode, just before the ending that Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish. So why do the stubborn Diaz brothers despite all odds travel to Mexico? Because.

Canada was too close, I guess.

Last but not least, let’s talk about sex, because why the hell not. A lot of fans or admirers of the previous instances howled across all social media about how much they miss Max and Chloe. I don’t really think it’s the case, but those two girls symbolize something that LIS2 has a tremendous problem with. There’s no emotional connection between the characters the brothers meet along the way, especially the ones that really should matter. Even the love interests feel more like nagging choices than anything else, an experiment during a camping trip, not something that would last or could be fantasized about. Instead of nerve-wracking decisions such as if you’re supposed to kiss Rachel, hold her hand, or the ecstatic discovery (for PriceFielders, but it was ecstatic, right?) that Chloe changed her phone’s background, we are instead presented with a lineup of sexual experiences, that maybe trail-blaze the road when it comes to topics tackled by a video game, but fall into obscurity as an emotional construction. There is no build-up between Sean and Finn as everything develops to a kiss in one conversation, and Cassidy has fewer lines than Victoria Chase before she invites Sean to her tent. We watch it as we watched it before, trying to get attached, feel something, but the only thing we remember was how much it touched us years ago when we played a different game but with a similar title. The sex scene, relatable or not, is stripped from the emotional intimacy and is as sensitively challenging as a dog being killed.

Character development doesn’t move an inch even if Sean, a surrogate father to his brother, lost his virginity to an older girl. There’s no single thought in his head that he might conceive his own offspring during this short but probably memorable experience. There’s not a single line except for the satisfaction of some female parts finally discovered. Oh, dashing explorer, will you ever learn?

It’s sad. I did want to like this game and gave it plenty of chances like no other titles ever. I’ve made excuses for the poor execution, technical problems, with the whiny voice acting that was driving me up the wall, plot twists written (I think) on a lunch break, and so on, but I couldn’t stand it. It’s a hard pass when it comes to a video game in general, not to mention the story, script, and everything else. Life is Strange season one; a low-budget production, was the first step to create a masterpiece that LIS2 might’ve been able to become. The second season didn’t learn much from LIS1’s mistakes, additionally exchanging the well-known beauty for a garbage fire, ignoring all the warning signs along the way. Delivering a story that tackles such important topics, it slides between the checkmarks on the board of issues, mentioning conversion therapy, religion, gayness, illegal immigration, and a spiral of crimes but never elaborating on any of them. There is no meat and potatoes presented on the plate of events, but just a sticky, sweet gravy with nothing underneath that leaves you not only hungry but frustrated, willing to call the chef and yell at the waiter. The trick is that unless you were living under a rock, there are tons of other productions in different media that give those themes justice, carefully unfolding all the aspects, giving voice to both sides. The fact that it’s the first video game having an affair with serious issues doesn’t matter. I don’t believe that anybody who consumes any kind of other media like decent books, movies, or TV shows can remain blind to the problems of Life is Strange 2, claiming it to be a good story. It’s not.

So here we are, girls, boys, and beyond. Life is Strange 2 with its broken mechanics, story, characters, and spirit slowly but surely will be forgotten. It’s Dontnod’s Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within that you might love to watch or play on your brand-new TV, despite what everybody else would say, omitting any valid or invalid criticism, but unfortunately, it won’t change the general optics about this particular piece of media. A lost chance or recklessness created a convoluted mess and with a heart beating in the wrong place. You might praise Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, get excited about it since it’s a free world, free country (and even if it’s not, no one will take this ersatz of such liberty) and don’t let anybody tell you what to love. The problem is, that most likely the only thing that people will remember about this production is that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck and the hair animation was dope. Everything else won’t matter.

The same thing goes, unfortunately, for Life is Strange 2, subtitle: The Spirits Without.

[em-be-lievable]

Number 1, platonic Remy/Dee/Virgil

HECK YEAH PLATONIC BAAAAABBBBSSSSS!!

I’ll freely admit: I got a little carried away with this one. It’s not fluff, but I couldn’t get the idea of these three morons getting themselves into mischief out of my head. 

Writing Prompt 1: “You my die doing this, let me grab my camera.”Words: 2800+Warnings: Urban Exploration AU- Slight horror themes, and really dumb decisions being made

Urban exploration is arguably the stupidest way they could choose to spend their time, in Virgil’s anxious opinion.

But the fear didn’t stop it from being fun- or a great way for him to go tagging without being alone in sketchy places at night. So whenever Virge’s dumbass friends- Dee and Remy, wanted to go explore an abandoned building he was always right there with them.

It was one such evening that Virgil got a text from Remy about another spot he wanted to check out. Well, it was less a text about the spot, and more of a ‘be ready bitch we’ll be there in ten’ warning- but they’d been friends long enough for Virgil to know what that meant.

Virgil quickly gathered up his respirator mask, and duffle bag of paint before heading out just in time for Remy to start laying on the horn of his car. Virgil rolled his eyes, lugging his bag as Remy rolled down the window and shouted over Dee.

“Get in bitch, we’re going exploring!”

“Sup fuckers.” Virgil chuckled, throwing his bag in the back seat before clambering in after it and closing the door. “Where are we heading?”

Dee was in the front passenger seat, rifling through his own backpack- a ratty thing decorated in little green x’s with buttons saying stuff like ‘Ghosts are real’ and ‘The truth is out there.’ “The old middle school on Cherry Street.” The youngest of the trio rambled. “The ghost hunting forum on Reddit stated it as the twenty second biggest hotspot in the state.”

Virgil rolled his eyes at that, a fond smile forming on his lips. Dee had always been like this, obsessed with ghosts and ghost hunting, since they met him. He entered high school when Remy was a junior, and Virgil was a sophomore. They really felt for the little weirdo, an eager kid who would ramble on about his hyper-fixations to the point of alienating everyone around him. He’d talk for hours about his own ‘ghost hunting adventures’ to the point you couldn’t really tell what was factual and what was a bit of a tall tale. But he was entertaining to the older boys, and genuinely fun to hang around. So, they adopted him in their rag-tag group of degenerates who hung out in abandoned buildings for one reason or another.

“Oh yeah? Have you been there yet Remy?” Virgil hummed making contact with the eldest boy in the rearview mirror.

“Nah gurl. I was waiting until the scouts and shrikes died down. If I run into another UrbanX junkie or amateur graffiti artist I’mma freakin’ lose it.”

“I’m an amateur graffiti artist.” Virgil chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Remy who smirked back.

“Yeah gurl, and you’re also an insufferable, moody emo.”

“Oh fuck you too asshole.” Virge laughed, as Remy winked and blew a kiss at him through the mirror.

“Love you too boo~”

That was Remy’s thing. He was the very UrbanX junkie he loathed. If he was going to explore a place he wanted to be the only one in there at the time. For a time he wouldn’t even let Virgil join him- until he got caught in a scary situation where the house wasn’t exactly vacant. Since then they all vowed never to go in alone. And Virgil was down with that- fuck being in a creepy house alone at night. Plus, if there were three of them it made it a lot harder for cops to track them all down.

And if there was one thing Virgil hated than being in creepy condemned houses alone at night- it was the fucking cops.

It didn’t take long to make it to the old middle school, especially when they were joking and shit-talking each other the whole way there. Throwing the car in park a little bit of distance from the building, the three boys got out of the car turning to each other with wicked grins.

“Alright, you babes know the drill. If the cops come we split up and meet at the park.”

“Yup.”

“Got it!” Dee beamed brightly, rummaging through his bag and pulling out his EVP recorder, and a Spectrum night-vision camera. “I’m gonna fucking get something tonight, the forum said this place was haunted as shit.”

Remy and Virgil both rolled their eyes, “Babe, the only thing you’re gonna get is the hiss from Virgil’s stupid spray cans.”

“Even then you’ll probably try to pass it off as a voice or whispering.” Virgil snickered, as Dee elbowed him in the side.

“Fuck you both. I’m gonna catch a ghost on tape and shove it up both of your asses.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Remy winked, as they finally encroached on the entrance to the school. “Oh look at all that graffiti- we’re gonna get jumped.” He snickered side eyeing Virgil who flipped him off.

“Yeah, by me. I’m gonna steal your whole anime figurine collection.”

“You lay hands on Gumi figure and I’ll personally hunt you down and then shit on your grave.” Remy hissed, Dee shaking his head.

“You’re both fucking weebs. Are we going in or not?”

“After you Miss Thang.” Remy purred, and Dee didn’t hesitate charing the way. The doors had been chained shut at one point by the city, but leave it to degenerates of explorers passed to have defiled that time and time again. Eventually the city just stopped trying to keep them out- it was just cheaper to let them have their way into the building than to replace the locks.

The building was musty, floors warped and walls cracked with chipping paint and litter scattered all around. It was probably a hazard to breathe the air, so Virgil halted their expedition for a moment to distribute respirators.

The entrance was already littered with tags and cringey nihilistic graffiti- Something that Virgil didn’t really find appealing. He was sure there’d probably be a better canvas for him deeper in, and the others were eager to press on; Dee in search of ghosts, and Remy in search of what was hidden in the dilapidated creases of the buildings fallen structure.

A couple minutes passed with little-to-no excitement, and the explorers quickly gained a little confidence to separate and investigate. Virgil was scoping the halls, trying to find a good place to desecrate with his own vision; when he came across a few nazi swastikas on an otherwise vacant wall.

Perfect. Not only was it a great place to put a tag, but he got to rip the satisfaction out of some elitist asshole’s grubby little hands.

He made quick work, pulling can after can out of his duffle bag and covering the disgusting symbols with his own ‘Anxiety’ tag. He got so zoned into his work that he stopped paying attention to where the others were going.

He was finally putting the finishing touches on his ace-flag colored masterpiece when he heard Dee shout from further down the hall.

“Guys! Come check this out!”

Virgil grabbed his duffle bag- abandoning the emptied cans on the floor and meeting up just in time with Remy to see what Dee was shouting about. The smallest boy standing in front of a decrepit red door, with a sign on it that had become unreadable and worn with the building’s age.

“It’s some kind of basement!” Dee started excitedly, “A couple of people on reddit talked about this- apparently nobody has been able to get in to investigate it yet!”

“Well, no time like the present gurl.” Remy grinned wickedly, pulling a black crowbar from his backpack. Virgil was starting to get a sinking feeling in that they shouldn’t go in the door. Dread pooled in his stomach as something whispered in the back of his head that the door was sealed shut for a reason, and that they shouldn’t be disturbing it.

However there was no arguing with Remy when he got that signature glint in his eye. When there was something someone didn’t want people to get into, Remy was there in a heartbeat. Especially when it came to his weird fascination with exploring abandoned buildings.

Ever the hipster, he wanted to be the first one to discover any place’s dark secrets.

The door cracked open with a swift move on Remy’s part- the taller boy actually being quite more muscular than his lanky frame let on. As the now busted door swung loosely, Dee shined his flashlight down a darkened staircase and marveled at how the light sunk in the darkness.

“Oh no, fuck that.” Virgil hissed, taking a step back. “I’m not going down there and getting my face eaten by a raccoon, hell no.”

“Wimp.” Dee snickered, earning a glare from Virgil.

“Shut up, you’re like 12.”

“I’m 14 dick eater!” Dee hissed back, Remy coming in between them.

“Girls, girls- you’re both beautiful. Can we focus on the task at hand?” He pointed his light down the stairs, illuminating the decrepit condition the boards that made them were in. “Those things don’t look like their gonna hold all this gorgeous without breaking. We should check to see if their in safe enough condition to climb down.”

“Well count me the fuck out. I’m not going down there- not today satan.” Virgil hummed, walking back to the wall and leaning against it. “You two go ahead and go. Send that bitch from the ring my regards as she murders you to death.”

“Ugh, finnee- I’ll do it.” Dee sighed, taking off his backpack and shoving it in Remy’s arms. “You two fat asses stay up here and blow each other or whatever.”

“Wait, you my die doing this, let me grab my camera.” Virgil chortled, pulling out his phone. As soon as he hit record, Dee turned around and flipped him off before carefully testing his weight on the stairs. It creaked a lot, but held fast, and slowly but surely he started to go down.

He made it about halfway down, when an animalistic growl pierced the silence; reverberating off the walls and sinking fear into the core of each of the boys.

“What the fuck was that?!” Virgil yelped, turning to Remy with wide eyes. The eldest boy looked frightened, but ever the brave asshat, tried to reason it away.

“Fuck, Dee- come back. There’s probably an animal or something down there.”

“Y-yeah, o-okay. I’m coming back up.” Dee stammered out, turning around carefully and starting his slow ascent up the stairs.

He placed one foot on the next stair, a loud groan from the wood protesting the silence.

All at once Dee fell face first onto the stairs, eyes going wide with fear as both his companions sprung into panic and action.

“Dee be fucking careful!” Virgil shrieked, as Dee started to frantically claw up the stairs.

“Something has my leg!” The youngest boy shrieked. As almost to emphasize this, he was yanked back, losing his grip on the first stair, and desperately cling to the next as whatever had him tried to drag him into the darkness.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck oh fuck!” Remy started stuttering out in a panic, dropping to the floor and reaching down to Dee without touching the stairs. “Dee grab my fucking hand!”

Dee loosened his grip ever so slightly in an attempt to reach Remy, but was immediately yanked HARD down towards the basement. “SHIT SHIT SHIT- ITS PULLING ME DOWN GUYS FUCKING HELP!”

“Oh my god oh my god!” Virgil whimpered, attempting to step on the first stair but hesitating as an audible ‘crack’ came from the wood splintering under his weight. “Oh fuck what’re we going to do?!”

“Grab onto me, moron!” Remy hissed and Virgil sprung into action, getting a vice-like grip on Remy’s ankles, as the other pushed himself further down the stairs and wrapped his hands around Dee’s wrists.

Dee looked frightened to the point of tears as he let go. Remy could feel the strain of the thing that was trying to steal his friend down the steps- Whatever it was it was pulling HARD, and Remy was starting to sweat just with the effort of keeping him where he was.

“VIRGE, PULL US UP!” Remy barked frantically, his muscles burning as he yanked Dee forward.

Virgil immediately started to haul backwards, not letting himself think about how heavy they were, or how hard the thing at the bottom of the steps was pulling. His mind laser focused on pulling his friends up the stairs as adrenalin pumped through his veins.

God why couldn’t they have stayed at home and played video games like normal teenagers?!?

His feet started to slip, as the thing at the bottom of the stairs got the upper-hand in this human tug of war. Virgil panicked, using every thing he had to dig his heels into the hard floors and pull his friends back.

“FUCK OFF YOU DEMON DICKWAD!” Virgil practically screeched, giving a final strong-willed pull at Remy’s ankles.

All at once, the two other boys came flying towards Dee- the thing letting go and letting inertia take it’s reigns as they crashed into one another. As they piled up on top of each other there was a sinister echoing laugh as the red, basement door slammed shut. There was only a beat of reprieve before Remy grabbed his own bag and BOOKED IT back towards the entrance of the school.

“FUCK THAT FUCK THAT- LETS GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

Virgil had enough consciousness to grab Dee by the wrist and run like hell, following Remy’s flashlight out.

“Wait- my bag!” Dee yelped, but Virgil wasn’t stopping.

“FUCK YOUR BAG! LET WHATEVER THAT THING WAS HAVE IT!” Virgil huffed. He kept his eyes forward- to terrified at the thought of turning around catching a glimpse of whatever that thing was. Every atom of his existence had one purpose, and one purpose only: Getting as fucking far away from this hell hole as possible.

The three boys sprinted down the steps to the middle school and across the decrepit campus towards where they parked their car. As soon as they were piled in and the doors were shut, Remy tore out of the area, speeding wildly away from whatever the fuck that was.

A few moments passed as they collectively calmed down a little- The fear wearing off Remy enough for him to drive at reasonable speeds. Dee was shaking in the back seat, and Virgil was breathing heavily to stave off a panic attack.

“…Y-you guys, I th-think we need a dif-different hobby.”

Remy made eye contact with Dee as Virgil turned around to look at him. There was a beat, before Remy made a snort. The entire car bursting out in hysterical laughter at just the absurdity of the night. It was cathartic, the panic soon being replaced with relief as they were alive, and safe, and not anywhere near Cherry Street.

Remy pulled into a McDonalds, the crew getting some food and ice cream to calm their nerves. It had gotten late enough that the actual store-front was closed, so they parked near the drive through window and basked in the light of civilization- each too afraid of being alone right now but none of them wanting to admit it.

“Man, what do you think that was?” Dee hummed, shoving an oreo mcflurry into his face fast enough that Virgil got sympathy brain-freeze.

“It was probably just some shady bitches pulling a prank.” Remy sighed, reason and logical thinking coming back to him. “If I ever find out who I’m gonna punch them in the mouth.”

“Yeah, what kind of assholes do that?” Virgil hummed around bites of fries. There was a quiet ping from his pocket, and the entire car turned to look as Virgil pulled his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket. There was a notification that his memory was now full.

“Oh, shit!” He gasped, “Awe man, I never stopped recording that video of you going down into that shit pit.”

“Really?” Dee beamed excitedly, “Wait, go back to the beginning! We can maybe see who the asshole who did that was.”

“Yeah, c’mon- I wanna see that douche bag’s face!” Remy egged on, and Virgil smirked- scrolling the video back to the point of Dee flipping him off.

The video was pretty dark- a lot of granular shit filling the screen as phone cameras have shit night time recording quality. But that didn’t stop the sinking feeling of dread that pooled into their stomachs as the video played out.

Right as Dee fell, there was a face in the darkness. And not the face of a prankster, or asshole who was doing it for kicks. No, no this was a sick, twisted, half-human grin staring back at them, giving them the sinking feeling of being watched. It was as if it could see them through the phone screen.

The boys sat there, in terrified silence as the information processed. Remy was the first to break it, clearing his throat and gripping the steering wheel.

“Sleepover at my place, yeah?”

“…Yeah, alright.” Virgil half mumbled, eyes still fixed on the screen. He really didn’t feel up to being alone right now, and he was sure none of them did.

As the car pulled out of the parking lot, there was a silence that fell over them. A mutual agreement flowing through the air as each of the boys agreed. No matter what, they were never going back to the abandoned middle school on Cherry Street again.

[awkward-euphoria]

I enjoy being an ironic Jew.

[gracebirch]

Two Tribes: Subcultures

Notes from lecture by David Osbaldestin 15.02.18

- Tribes are all associated with fashion and music counter cutlure is about drugs and experimentation, open minded, asking questions about the system - Frankie Says Relax- Two Tribes video, battle of superpowers - Teenagers: were in American first bc they recovered after WW2 first but then came to UK in the 50s- music and fashion orientated, disposable income - Teddy Boys (UK), first subculture, rebelling against parents, about fashion, like American milk bar culture - Beatnik: Alan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac - Folk - Rockers (UK), motorbikes, Ton-Up, utilitarian, bikes used as weapons, bikes used to be middle class but then they started to buy cars and so there were lots of cheap bikes that the working class started to buy, using images of war, Maltese crosses, swastikas etc, Girl on a Motorcycle- Marianne Faithful - Greasers, led on from Rockers, split into Hippies and Hells Angels, Woodstock- tribal existence, Alamont Rolling Stones last performance for a while, Hells Angels did security- murders, death. Dark side of hippies: Charles Manson - Mods: tailored clothes, mopeds, Italian culture , target symbolism (RAF) battle cry to Rockers, working class teens taking influence from French and Italian films and Italian fashion magazines, Quadrophenia, Battle of Brighton, listened to modern jazz - 90s Britpop, out of austere 80s, branded Britain, tertiary industries (creative), Blur v Oasis, Mods v Rockers - Counter culture in USA: easy rider- Peter Fonda, drugs, experimentation - British Heavy Metal: Black Sabbath, Birmingham, working in heavy metal factories led to their music , death metal, thrash metal, hair metal - Androgyny - Glam rock - Skinhead movement: 50s, working classes, suede heads, (Reeves and Mortimer- Slade sketch), conservatism - Bowie: started as a hippy wearing dresses with long hair- the Man Who Sold the World, then in Space Odyssey he had big curls, Mick Rock photography, he was glam rock, and also protopunk - Protopunk: New York Dolls, Ramones, bands that came out of CBGBs, early 50s rock and roll on distorted synths, political undertones, Crass lived in a commune, marches, protest - UK: Jamaican culture: Rudeboys, Rasta culture - Northern Soulers: B sides of old records, Tainted Love- Soft Cell, brought disco to UK - Punk: Vivienne Westwood’s shop in Chelsea, selling to Punks, Scottish influence, mohawks, tartan, proper punk only lasted for 9 months and people moved on but around Britain it lasted for years, youth culture pushing boundaries, Anarchy - Gay culture: menagerie, many labels within one culture, interesting example of tribalism, adopted the skinhead as a fight back against fascism - New Wave: from USA, Blondie, Ramones, pop based, but had origins in tribes, borrowing from rockers and mods, and a big tie with hip hop, Blondie did one of the first rap singles - Ska: - Early Hip Hop Culture: block parties, led to house parties which led to house music - Goth: Suzie Sue, part of punk movement - New Romantics: Carn and Bell (fashion designers crafted the movement), Duran Duran, Adam Ant, Flock of Seagulls, moved on from punk, flamboyant, Boy George: one of the blitz kids- ultravox etc Zig Zig Sputnik, Network 7 on Channel 4 radical programme that talked about real issues and promoted punk etc, radical journalism with a real edge and gloss, Wham, Madonna, - Rockabilly/Psychabilly - Alternative: The Smiths - Casuals: highest form of violence, football, tribal allegiances to your team, dangerous, Sergio Taschini, working class kids, wearing branded clothes, stealing clothes en masse - Rave: casuals become baggies, became illegal for more than 6 people to meet in an area with repetitive beats! MDMA, Ecstasy, football hooligans lost the violence and found the love - Straight edge: Xs on their hands, no drinking or drugs, Henry Rollins big star of straight edge movement, Raymond Pettybourne - Rap: Public Enemy, fight the power, social change, Malcolm X politics represented - Gangsta rap - Grunge: 90s from USA to Uk, Sub-pop, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Junior, Mud Honey, had previously given up guitar bands, but grunge bought it back - Emo - Chav Hipster: Ricky Hall, P&Co - Dorothy- posters - Beatles, Disco (Studio 54), EDM, techno (anonymous DJs), vintage, steampunk, skaters, club kids

After this fascinating lecture on tribes, we then in groups looked further into individual tribes and their values etc, out group chose drag queens and their history, values etc, we then had to visualise drag culture as a task over the weekend.

[rauthschild]

A Word to White Men

By Rev. Bill Wylie-Kellermann

You, White men, Christian and not, sit in darkness, unseeing how you are advantaged by aggression against others. Your humanity suffers a gaping wound you have been taught not to feel. You are justified by a faith that is an idol and a lie. You are in bondage to a system and a spirit, white supremacy, which is nothing less than a form of death itself.

You, with your dark web and your hate chat, the safe, encrypted anonymity for trolling and flame wars. You with your automatic open carry at the march, your training grounds and target range in Howell. You, spray painting swastikas on the underpass pillars, flying the confederate flag from your truck in the downtown construction zone. Feared or afraid?

You, in your suburban cul de sacs and wall-trenched expressways. Split-level and sprawling white-flight churches. Your joggable neighborhoods and upscale cinemas telling your story or gazing on others. Your well-funded college-bound schools. Your safety north of 8 Mile defended by fleets of white cops eyeing profiles and aiming sidearms. Oblivious to history, from stolen land and stolen labor to Jim Crow lynchings, from GI Bills and post-war loans, to restrictive covenants and redlining, you imagine you built this, earned this, deserve this. You are brutally self-deceived.

You, White mayor, politicians, and judges. You embrace emergency managers with their unilateral authority. As in disaster, they cut red tape with a knife and reorganize the footprint. They suppress the vote which you further corrupt. When the fix is in, you can win by a landslide as a write-in and still live in your suburban home. There is money to be made and contracts to be bid or hid. Whole Black neighborhoods to be cleared for greenspace and future industry. Blight to demolish. If you were Black you’d be doing 28 years for corruption, but you will probably skate and assume a cabinet position.

You, flooding “home” to White downtown, Midtown, Corktown, making Detroit great again. Commanding the road, the bike lane with your electric scooter apps. You keep your driver’s license address back home to save on insurance and never have to worry about attending the police oversight commission, the school board, or the charter commission. The corporate fascism of emergency management is a shrug of indifference. Oblivious to history, you have imagined the city as a blank slate on which to transcribe your art, your cultural creativity, your inventive and nostalgic locally named business, with start-up grant funding. You draft memos headed “Dear conquistadors,” chuckling at your irony and naming the programs and communities that need to be moved out of “your” neighborhood. Ubiquitous private surveillance, like corporate cops, a good idea. While, out of sight and mind, other neighbors are being moved out of the city by tax and mortgage foreclosures, water shut-offs, blight removal, school closings, church closings, transportation and infrastructure withdrawal, facial recognition and the criminalization of black bodies – all your interest and service.

You, with your good intentions to save the city, hiring on to the non-profit, domesticating movement. You are paid to attend meetings that community folk struggle to make. You have a place at the table and a microphone. You do the week long immersion and decide to commit. You buy the foreclosed home for a pittance. You glimpse the White savior complex and think the hipsters suffer it. You come with Teach for America and don’t notice you displace veteran Black teachers. You do the bidding of the foundations, funders saving the neighborhoods they have selected. They know its future, what’s best for the city, so you know likewise, and say so in the grant report. Your agenda is officially confirmed.

Me/Us with our anti-racist lingo and street credentials. We move in Black movement spaces like we’ve earned our way with words and deeds, when we’re granted access only by relationship. We protest too much the White savior script. We learn the cultural codes. Maybe we do the dozens like pros. We have our arrest records and jail times to show. The color of our Facebook friends. We name our locations and watersheds. We reassess our histories and upbringings. We sample other people’s stories and tell them. We publish our critiques. Hence, and still, it clings to us, hides in our depths. Addicts of whiteness, the demon grips our souls.

So, White men all, we are called to confess. Confess our bondage, confess our faith in the freedom which scripture calls good news. We begin yet again with ourselves. But call on others, all men of the White lie to embrace the truth of our full humanity. This is not a solitary task of individual effort, but a work of community and movement. It is work. It is prayer and intercession. It is naming and exorcism. It is reparation and self-healing. In threat and crisis, it is inextricable from this moment in history.

[the-rainbow-shaka-brah]

(I have no idea how to title this because well, this post is going to get kinda personal)

Life is Strange saved my life. Now I know what you're thinking, how could a video game save someone's life. Well, here's the thing... it's not just a game... it's an experience, one that got me back on the right path in life.

 Before I found Life is Strange I was very depressed, like... dark thoughts depressed and... I remember searching through Jacksepticeye's playlist collection at 2 o'clock in the morning for something to watch and finding three 2 hour videos about a game I had never heard of and frankly had no interest in. I figured I'd just watch it until I was bored out of my mind and eventually fell asleep, but what I found was amazing. 

I was hooked on Doctor Who at the time and loved anything that had to do with time travel, so when I first saw our shy cliche hipster protagonist... I felt...connected, like... I had something in common with this character. And sure enough, Max and I share a lot of the same fear, we're both talkative and quiet all at the same time. And we had one person in life... that after years apart, opened our hearts. Unfortunately, I realized my true feeling too late and we haven’t spoken in almost 3 years.

Anyways, I watch all the videos (Chrysalis- Chaos Theory) and immediately fell in love. I didn't start out shipping Pricefield, because well, homosexuality was still kinda new to me. I grew up with... I don't want to say homophobic but yeah, parents who didn't really teach or tell me anything about girls liking girls and boys liking boys. But by the time I played Episode 5: Polarized and watched Max and Chloe kiss... like... kiss for reals, it didn't seem weird. It felt so natural and normal and...oddly comforting.

I started to think why that was.

Let's just say the game made me look at my whole life and re-evaluate it. I saw that throughout my whole life... I've liked both boys and girls. 

The realization was shocking and frankly, it scared me absolutely shitless.

So I hid my discovery for months, unsure how to... tell my parents that I was... well, what ever I was.

When I finally came out, my mom was...shocked I guess, she didn't really have a reaction and neither did my dad. They both said not to think too much about it, that I shouldn't rush into decisions like that. While writing this right now, I realized that... They didn't want me to be the way I am... and that sucks because come on... parents always tell you never to be ashamed of who you are.

I struggled for a whole year, forced to keep my newfound identity a secret. My parents closeted me and that's so not right. I became depressed to the point where I started thinking about my life’s worth, and if it was really worth anything. I made the mistake of telling my parents and they, of course, said that if I was having those thoughts they’d send me away to a medical facility or something. So I lied and said that I simply meant I felt like I was losing sight of what I wanted to do with my life. They believed me and the matter was dropped. So I continued to suffer in silence. 

 So, I guess as a coping mechanism, I started writing my fears into my Life is Strange fan fiction and well, it helped... a lot. I started talking to the kind people over at LifeisStrangeFans.com and found so much support, people who accept and are okay with who I am.

As of March 23, 2017, I came out to the rest of my family as Bisexual, everyone is... well struggling with it. My mother seems to be the one struggling the most, even comparing having my pride flag hanging up on the wall to having a swastika up. I don't understand her and she doesn't understand me, maybe we're not meant to, but I hope someday in the future we can settle our differences and become the strong family we once were.

The rest of my family though... shit, don’t even get me started. My grandparents were devastated and completely denied my sexuality, and I haven’t really heard from them since. My uncle dissed me on Facebook and... not even bothering to say my name (if he was trying not to out me I get that but saying “At least you were raised right” to my friend is hella fucked up).

Life is Strange has been there for me, the game has given me a wonderful fandom that hungers for new content and I'm glad I'm able to contribute.  

I started writing Life is Strange Fan fiction in 2016, shortly after the Episode 5 finale. I, like many, was greatly disappointed in the “Sacrifice Arcadia Bay” ending so, I set out to make it better. In its earliest variation, my first fan fiction “The Calm Before The Storm” [Which is currently being rewritten (again)] was only 7 chapters long. Now, almost a year later, it’s complete, coming in at a total of 78 chapters. Wowser. I’ve grown as a person since then, mentally and emotionally.

In my newest fic #NoFilter, I deal with much darker topics than in my original “fluff fest” of a fan fic. For one, I wrote both Max and Chloe to have dark pasts, full of pain and hurt. Thankfully, most of the things they experianced have not happened to me, but some of them have. (spoilers) Both Max and Chloe are suicidal (Max being passive, Chloe being semi-agressive), and that’s something I’m still, to this day,  dealing with. This story is my therapy, this game has been my therapy. This game means everything to me... it’s basically the reason I’m still here writing this today

I don’t want to sound all self centered or anything, but I highly recomened reading said fics. Here’s the link (if anyone has even read this far) if you’re interested.

“The Calm Before The Storm”: 

Wattpad

FanFic.Net

“#NoFilter”

Wattpad

FanFic.net     (This one’s hard to read at first cause I was still getting used to using this site but it gets better around Chapter 10)

So... thanks to anyone who read this... i don’t have a lot of people to vent to nowadays... 

[drumpfwatch]

Trump’s recent press statement on Charlottesville was a great comedy of errors. Like I could list off, one by one, each of the things he did wrong, but I think the thing that amuses me the most is how when he was called out for taking so long, he said that it was because he “wanted to be sure” that they were actually Nazis.

Nevermind the fact these guys were carrying swastikas and confederate flags.

Nevermind the fact that they were ALL chanting Nazi slogans.

Nevermind the fact that they were marching about a statue of Robert E. Lee, who, while the one Confederate I have any amount of respect for, is still a traitor and acknowledged as much himself.

Nevermind that President Pussygrabber has never, EVER before demonstrated ANY desire to think things through and give them the time they deserve.

Nevermind that fucking NORDSTROM got a quicker and more virulent response then these Nazis ever did.

Nevermind that I built my entire image around being a quick, uncompromising angry stooge who throws people under buses as fast as I can if it makes me a buck.

No, THERE guys obviously could potentially NOT be NAZIS and for once in my life I have to actually sit down and think about the potential Moral Complexities™.

Like, really dude? REALLY? Do you not have eyes to see the pictures, or do you think these guys are just marching around with Swastikas because they think it’s some kind of elaborate hipster statement? If they did, who exactly are you offending? A bunch of idiots who think it’s okay to appropriate Nazism for...whatever reason?

This has got to be most ridiculous tap dance I have ever seen, and the only thing making it unfunny is the fact that his happened IN REALITY and the fact that he is shouting down people with this obviously contrived bullshit.

[rudolf-rokkr]

On “reclaiming” the swastika, schwartze Sonne, etc

Let me get it out of the way that of course I know the swastika is not an exclusively Germanic symbol, I know it has a long history in many parts of the world. That’s just not what I’m talking about now. Heathens who bring this up in defense of using the swastika in their own Germanic context are committing cultural appropriation -- laying claim not to another culture’s symbol but its cultural context which is unrelated to the person making the claim. Sorry, doesn’t work that way. I’m talking about ásatrúar or other heathen people who whine about how they should be able to walk around with swastika ink or on t-shirts or banners or ritual equipment and be protected from criticism, especially if it’s because “it’s their religion.”

And like... this is so obvious I don’t even know how to articulate it but... they’re still being used to terrorize and oppress people. They have a current, productive, socially-conditioned meaning that you cannot isolate them from. But even that isn’t what I’m gonna talk about right now.

My honest opinion is that heathens wouldn’t give these symbols a second thought if the Nazis hadn’t gotten their hands on them first. They’d be aware of swastikas because they were pretty ubiquitous, in a way that had nothing to do with paganism, before the Nazis claimed them but nobody would think of them having any specific importance to pre-Christian paganism; I doubt they’d even know about schwarze Sonne. I’m not at all trying to say that everyone who wants to “reclaim” them is a Nazi themselves but it does mean they’re buying half of the Third Reich narrative about them. They were nothing to these people until the Nazis said they were. If the Nazis had used, I dunno, a triquetra instead, they’d be whining about that instead and would be saying “what, the hook-cross? That’s a heathen symbol? The thing on all those buildings in Philadelphia? Sorry man but that sounds like New Age bullshit to me.”

You know how I know? A few ways.

For one thing people do things like take Vegvísir and surround it with elder futhark runes -- demonstrating that they consider the entire past to be a grab bag of fashionable symbols to do whatever they want with (reminder that Vegvísir is situated in time closer to us right now than to elder futhark). This doesn’t qualify as cultural appropriation because the peoples who created and could interpret these symbols according to their own living semiotic systems are long dead but it does really drive home the fact that the people who created and could interpret them are long dead. Do you see what I’m getting at? We don’t know what the swastika meant to people living in Germanic-speaking places in the Migration Age or after. Some people insist it was a solar symbol or otherwise that it was a symbol of the thunder god (which tbh is appropriation from victims of the Nazis, the Baltic people) but not only don’t you actually know that, even if it’s true we have an abundance of other symbols to signify the same things and furthermore that we know signify the same things. If you want to “honor the ancestors” don’t start by robbing their graves. This isn’t our culture. Some of us are trying to reincorporate these things into a living network of symbols and meaning but these fucking Norse hipsters won’t let us because I guess it’s elitist to know what language was used with what writing system. Not to mention that it most likely meant different things to different groups anyway (sure looks solar to me on Alemanni artwork though the thunder god interpretations are pretty appealing too). Oh yeah, not to mention that this “it’s all the same/part of the same/ours” is a feature of the Nazi view of the Germanic past, as well as touches on points 1 and 2 of Umberto Eco’s ur-fascism. The ubiquity of this misinformation is a product of the folkish stranglehold on heathenry and it needs to be dismantled.

Second, nobody seems to care at all about any symbols that weren’t used by the Nazis, with the exception of those the proliferation of which is tied directly to the study of pagan religion (Mjölnir, valknut)... Like how many of these “reclaim the swastika” types even know the Bowen knot ⌘ appears in Germanic art (“what, the Apple command key? That’s a heathen symbol? The thing on all those signs for national parks? Sorry man but that sounds like New Age bullshit to me.”)? That’s what I meant earlier when I said people would be aware of the swastika existing, but that it would have no general perceived connection to Germanic paganism -- it would just be another one of these. Ikonographischer Katalog is free online, people. If you know the words “bildsten” and “hällristningar” you’ve got all the symbols you can eat. By the way, those symbols like Mjölnir and valknut that have gotten picked back up -- it’s because the previous paragraph doesn’t apply. We have a kind of decent understanding of them in archaeology, and if nothing else they’ve acquired meaning as a product of their modern reception. They actually have the communicative power of symbols recognized by a community.

The most damning reason of all is that people fight over the winged “odal” rune used by volunteer SS which is not from the actual fucking runic record. The black sun that most of us would recognize is also not from the archaeological record -- there are a few pieces of jewelry that the twelve-pronged symbol we know and hate (which was designed for the floor of the Wewelsburg castle) but they are clearly different, with an odd number of spokes and no connecting band. So while I wouldn’t defend anyone for wearing an authentic Migration Age black sun anyway, why the fuck is it only the one that’s only a Nazi symbol and nothing else that anyone is ever crying about?

So yeah, I’m well aware of the context in which these (or related) symbols do actually appear in the archaeological record, and I do think it fucking sucks that the Nazis grabbed them up and turned them into symbols of white supremacy and hatred -- but heathens “reclaiming” by and large don’t have a claim, and there’s no significant different between them and plenty of other symbols on record other than that the Nazis used them. I genuinely believe they only get upset over them not because they represent any particular reality of pre-Christian European religion, but because they were handed them on a silver platter.

Tell you what, you want to reclaim them, I’ll even get your back -- but not until after every last Nazi has been in the ground for five generations.

[catbountry]

How to Become an Un-Person, or We Are Already Divided and You’re the Ones Doing It

Jontron hopped in on a livestream with noted pro-GGer and social justice critc Sargon of Akkad recently, and if you believe Tumblr and Twitter he pretty much admitted to being a Nazi, which I suppose makes it acceptable to punch him in the face, or so I’m told. You can listen to it yourself (it’s fucking five hours long, though), but in it, as expected, it’s being quote-mined for the most incriminating shit he says, while the overall message is being completely ignored, ‘cause the people most upset about it don’t want you to hear it: that is, you have three dudes who were once potential allies and formerly fairly progressive themselves admitting to being actively driven away from the Left due to the Left’s poor behavior. They also identified identity politics as being a catalyst for the resurgence of white nationalism on a broader scale and basically expressed feelings of being disenfranchised and alienated.

The broader point is that Jontron knew that his expressing his views would get him crucified by the new Left, and whaddya know, he was right!

Now, I could go over all the things he said I personally disagreed with, found to be ill-informed or ignorant, or whatever. But that’s not really the point. The point is that he expressed his views despite being more than a little terrified of the backlash he might receive. And his views are pretty moderate by most standards. Some of them wouldn’t even jibe with what most people consider left-wing. But for disagreeing at all, for going against the narrative, he has found himself what Izzy might call “un-personed,” but I think is more akin to shunning, or being labeled as a dissident. It’s a big ole’ Scarlet Letter passed around a community as a way of saying, “do not engage this person. Shun them. Reject them socially, as they do not follow the accepted rules. They have crossed a line, and must be punished until they repent.”

One of the other points made in the stream was criticism of the dogmatic nature of internet social justice and the new Left. If you’re wondering why so many atheists seem put off by social justice, it’s because the movement has been co-opted by people who treat its principles the same way they treat religious texts. I can say that for me, growing up Catholic, the idea that white people are inherently racist (or men are inherently sexist) is far too close to the idea of Original Sin, which is the root of all Catholic Guilt. It’s little wonder, as Jontron points out, that by grouping white men together and antagonizing them, that a few of them got pissed off enough and now this generations youth is more conservative than any generation before it. Oh yeah, and Neo-Nazis are back.

All of this happens less than a day after I basically got shouted down by a co-worker for thinking that punching Nazis is not a good idea and won’t fix anything, but instead will more likely escalate violence.

This happened on our lunch break. I’d discussed politics with this guy before and was able to disagree politely on a number of subjects, but when I expressed disapproval for the use of violence against abhorrent speech, my previously mild-mannered co-worker, a dude who looks like hipster Jesus, went fucking livid. At one point he shoved a poorly-drawn meme in my face in lieu of an argument, demanding me to “READ IT!” while shoving his phone in my face. When I pulled up a post on Popehat that better stated my own argument, he scrolled through it quickly, barely reading it. When I argued the legality, he shouted “THE HOLOCAUST WAS LEGAL! SLAVERY WAS LEGAL!” to the point where I felt like I was in a plebcomics strip. When he kept talking over me, I quipped at him to “quit mansplaining me” as a way to break the tension, but that just set him off further. As his anger escalated, he threw everything he could at me; guilt-tripping, name calling, putting words in my mouth, turning ME into a strawman by not listening to my arguments, and even used Captain America and my love of punk rock against me as a means of emotional blackmail. When I finally said that he was scaring me and acting way too violent, he said “OH, BUT I THOUGHT EXPRESSING IDEAS WASN’T VIOLENCE!”, throwing an earlier point I made back in my face. There were others in the room, mostly women, and it took my one co-worker, a gay, black man, to try and get us to calm down. I tried, feebly, to apologize, to recognize he felt passionately but that I would not change my mind and I merely wanted it to be understood where I was coming from (mostly that I don’t want to be a hypocrite; if we’re allowed to punch somebody because we feel their ideas put us in danger, then that will have to apply to those we disagree with), he shot back at me bitterly, accusing me of being a hypocrite myself. Eventually I walked out. I had co-workers trying to re-assure me that things got heated, that these are uncertain times, everybody’s tense right now, and it’s not like I’m pro-Trump anyway.

But to hipster Jesus, I might as well have been a swastika-branded Nazi reciting the 14 words and Hitler saluting.

The next day we didn’t really talk or make eye contact. I found myself wondering if he hated me; if I’d been branded an un-person. But I also was too afraid to say anything, for fear of provoking him again. I became so sick with worry I ended up having to go home early after throwing up for three minutes in the women’s restroom. I expressed this concern to my manager, who said that for now, at least, this is between us, but if it gets worse, he will have to sit both of us down and have a talk. So long as it’s not interfering with our work, he says.

I’m terribly afraid that if this is going to be resolved, if I’m to be un-un-personed, I’m going to have to apologize for... well, I guess engaging him at all. Part of the reason I was so caught off-guard was because we’d disagreed before, and walked away with polite disagreement. This was unprecedented. I really don’t know what’s going to happen from here on in.

So when Jontron said he got the chills seeing the reaction to Richard Spencer getting punched in the face, I, too, felt a chill. Because the problem with saying that punching Nazis is okay is that the very same people who say this are also prone to calling people who they disagree with Nazis, regardless of whether they are or aren’t. So many years of crying wolf over “fascism” has left me numb. Oh, is it fascism now? What about those other times before when you said it was fascism? Oh, but it’s for REAL now? Well, do you really expect me to believe you NOW?

But on top of all that, was hipster Jesus barely holding himself back from punching ME in the face?

Personally, I find using violence to silence those that have opinions you find objectionable, even if those opinions are already horrible, is more akin to fascism, really. But I suppose this is to be expected from self-professed communists. Communism, which wound up with a higher body count than National Socialism ever did.

I discussed this with Izzy, and he told me this, in regards to his own beliefs that punching Nazis won’t work: that as a Jew, he’s equally as fearful of the far Left as he is of the far Right, because whenever either one takes power, he said, it always seems to end up with dead Jews.

I can’t blame him at all for feeling wary that the people who stay silent about Jews being attacked by leftists on campuses are suddenly bragging about how they are championing the Jews.

So pardon me if I’m feeling more than a little disgusted with the people whose side I’m supposed to be on.

[lalka-laski]

If you lived in Bikini Bottom, would you befriend Spongebob or Plankton? Neither, really. I feel like I have more of a Sandy energy. Positive and upbeat but levelheaded.  Do you have any bananas in your house right now? I have TWO loaves of banana bread as well as two leftover bananas in the freezer for another loaf when the time comes. For some reason banana bread is the official food of quarantine?

Which overrated tattoo are you sick of seeing? I’m really not in the business of judging people’s ink. Tattoos are so personal (and obviously permanent) and it just feels wrong to criticize someone’s choices. Unless of course, we’re talking swastikas or something. 

Is it easy to distract you? Unbelievably easy 

Do you prefer to drink from glasses or mugs? Mugs! 

What was the last thing you taught a younger kid? I haven’t been around kids in over a month so I can’t remember. Now I’m sad! 

Are the clocks in your house mostly digital or analog? Exclusively digital 

Do you like watching movies made with CGI or do you prefer hand-drawn ones? No preference

Where did your parents buy their car(s)? The Chevrolet dealership in my hometown

Do you know why your grandparents chose your mother’s name? I actually don’t. I’m assuming just because it was a moderately popular girl’s name in the 60s. 

What is your favourite kind of soup? I just had this Indian Chickpea soup from Wegmans that was BOMB. I also love me some broccoli cheddar; specifically with Vermont white

Have you ever made your own musical instrument? Oh very often as a kid! I was crafty AND musical

What do you think of Leighton Meester’s singing voice? I forgot she sang. I guess she’s fine? I’m sure she’s autotuned to death but it doesn’t bother me.

Do you think you’d do well at teaching the English language to a foreigner? Not at all. It’s too difficult to teach something that comes to you so innately and naturally. 

How long have your neighbours lived there? I think I’m actually the “newest” neighbor in my building. 

Is it weird to hear your name in movies or TV shows? I actually just had this conversation! On a show Glenn was watching this guy was talking to a character named Elizabeth and repeated her name 10 times in a two minute span. It was so disorienting for me!

Why do so many people seem to hate the Jonas Brothers? I think more people like them than hate them nowadays, no?

If you attend school, what time do you usually get home after? I’m done with school my dudes

When was the last time you really needed to just let loose? I’ve been a little on edge lately (possibly PMS?), so now would be good. 

Have you ever been blackmailed? Not that I know of

Do you suffer from Restless Leg Syndrome? YES although not that often anymore, thankfully

Would you rather have novels based on your life or a series of comic books? Novels, since that’s my preferred medium. Although seeing myself as a comic book character would be pretty cool.

Have you written a resume before, either for yourself or someone else? Both. I’m the go-to girl in my friend group for resumes and cover letters.

Did you know that they plan on releasing a movie based on The Smurfs? This must be an old survey

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live underwater? I’d rather DIE

Have you ever worked in a bakery? If not, would you like to? I have not and would never. I don’t care for baking much as it is and I’m soooo over food service jobs.

What is your favourite thing about snow? It looks beautiful! I dream about a majestic, snow princess wedding.

Is there a big personality difference between you and your sibling(s)? Oh yes, we’re all distinctly different. Our personalities, temperaments, intellects, personal styles, hobbies, etc. Yet we all get along wonderfully (as adults!) 

Do you enjoy decorating things with stickers? I love using stickers in my journals and on handwritten notes/envelopes etc! 

Did you lose anything recently? Did you end up finding it? I lose my phone multiple times a day

What colour oven mitts do you have? I have a yellow pair and then one single green one with a girl and a speech bubble saying “Hot, hot vegetarian action!” My sister in law thought it was hilarious.

Why do you/don’t you watch award shows? I sometimes do. I like being part of something that loads of other people are witnessing in real time. Plus, live-tweeting is fun as hell. 

Do you ever do the exercises featured in some magazines? I used to follow the exercises in Seventeen religiously. Actually, I followed ALL the tips in Seventeen religiously. 

Have you ever watched What The Buck? What do you think of it? Not a clue what that is 

Do you consider Lady GaGa’s appearance artistic, or just plain weird? Of course I think she’s artistic 

What do you usually do when you have trouble sleeping? I usually just lay there in misery instead of doing anything to possibly help myself.

What was the last thing you used scissors for? Cutting open a bag of frozen veggies 

Have you ever used some kind of food as a facial mask? I just talked about this with my friends! I love DIY beauty treatments and I’ve used various ingredients for face masks: coffee grounds, bananas, plain yogurt, egg yolks... 

How many USB cords do you have lying around? Uh, I’ve never counted

Are you satisfied with your social life (or lack thereof)? My social life was really taking a positive turn JUST before Covid hit. But honestly, my new quarantine social calendar is a lot of fun. I have a Zoom or Houseparty video chat almost every night. The downside of that though is that I’m drinking a LOT more than normal but what can ya do?

Do you know anybody whose initials spell something? JAR. I’m sure I can think of others but that comes to mind first.

What is your favourite flavour of Kool-Aid? Red? Or is there a blue flavor? Because I love blue things 

Is there a specific food you think NEEDS to be at Christmas dinner? My mom’s cheesy potatoes and also, pierogi.

Would you be able to re-string a guitar? Not if my life depended on it

What TV show do you just assume you wouldn’t like? Most popular shows don’t interest me. I don’t mean that in a hipster way, I’ve just never been a fan of TV. And what few shows I do like are usually trash. (I admit it!)

Do your friends have more money than you? Almost all of them do Do you have more bread or cheese in your house? Always cheese.

What was the last movie trailer you saw? Couldn’t tell ya

Did you purchase any meat product when you were at the store last? I don’t eat meat!

Have you ever been told that you have chubby cheeks? I have extremely chubby cheeks although people usually try to word it in a more polite way 

Do you know how to properly use a saw? Nope and I wouldn’t dare try

Isn’t it a shame that what Kanye West did at the VMA’s overshadowed what was supposed to be a night dedicated to Michael Jackson? Oh yeah, I lose sleep over it every night

[katharinealldritt]

Notes from a lecture about Tribes

Two tribes - subcultures - identity Why would you paint yourself white when a nuclear siren went off Prior 1950 they never really had teenagers due to the rationing because of the war 14 was when you became an adult

Timeline:

You could express yourself and this came out as teddy boys, Vivienne Westwood started it by selling clothes to teddy boys Beat nicks - jack carrowack - a subculture FOLK TEENAGERS Rockers - classic imagery and set the iconography for teenage culture, iconography focused on the use of motorcycles in design Bikers become greesers, bikes become used as weapons. Motorcycles were the main form of transport for middle class then when cars became more affordable, you have young people buying all the old cheap bikes They use edgy iconography and images of war ie swastika GIRL ON A MOTOR CYCLE - WATCH Marianne faithful - mars bar story Mods and rockers Mods came from middle class family - they look came from Italian and French art films and Italian fashion mags This led to conflict between the two groups - the famous battle of Brighton During the 90s there was a big economic boom, they talked about branded Britain and tertiary jobs which is advertising Counter culture starts in the states EASY RIDER Counter culture is very about drugs and experiments - they ask big questions Greesers fracture as tribes and becomes the hippies and the hells angels The hells angels take the bikes as weapons to the next levels The alamont, they got the hells angels to security and it led to deaths and murders Origins of heavy metal comes from the factories around Birmingham and they heard the loud banging of machinery and took it to music. Metal produces multiple tribes Androgyny comes through in the tribes, very focused on sex Skinheads comes popular in the 50s, they have sub tribes Slade started out as suede heads Glam - Bowie He was on the zeitgeist, always before the up and coming When he started he was a hippie and wore dresses with long hair, then in space oddity he had big curly hair, Bowie were Protopunk so was mot the hoople - the protopunk was ahead of its time. Many of the bands that came out of the cbgbs Jamaican culture has a link to skinhead culture with the hate of right wing Rasta culture, a lot of protest Northern soul - melting pot of old B sides - multiracial multicultural Disco kind of replaced northern soul, the first disco recorded was brought back to the uk from a northern soul dj Punk in the mid to late 70s - Mohawks, it became more commercial - real punk only last around 9 months but was used for years after Lush - use their profits to create radical events Gay culture took in the look of the skin head New wave - blondie - taking the origins of punk - very pop - taking influence from previous tribes - blondie did one of he first rap singles Scar and two tone - Hip hop culture - block parties turned into house parties and then turned into house music Goth - goth is on the streets, you looked more rough - has many different brands, nowadays it has gone through America New Romantics - came from punk but was much more glamorous, fashion designer patty bell crafted the look of the New Romantics Boy George came from the New Romantics and moved his look forward and crafted his look ONLY AFTER DARK - AN EVENT IN BIRMINGHAM Sigue sigue came out in a time when there were 3 tv channel, then came channel 4 which had the most radical programming we’d seen They talked about truth rather than a Utopia, Tribes in the 80s - based on the icons Rockabilly Alternative- the smyths Casuals - one of the biggest tribes we’ve ever had - they had the highest form of violence ever - all about branded goods - they would go into a branded store in mass and then nick all the stuff Casuals becomes the baggies Raves - government bans 6 or more people gathering together in a public space with repetitive beats Casuals discover the love Straight edge - guys wore Xs on their hands, didn’t drink smoke or do drugs, very violent in clubs and gigs   RAYMOND PETTYBORN Rap - talking about social change - this turns into gangsta rap Grunge evolved from sub pop - they brought back the use of guitar in music Emos Chavs - Chavs become the hipster RICKY HALL Think about sub categories in grunge emo and chavs Design company in Manchester - Dorothy Consider - visualise the tribes, bit of research about them

We were asked to pick a tribe and research more into them, we chose to look in drag queens and the origins of that. According to our research, 1870 was the first known use of drag however, there are examples of men dressing as women in the victorian age, as well as in the Egytian and Aztec periods. 

[adambstingus]

The 5 Oddest American Trends That Other Countries Stole

America is the great melting pot. Generations upon generations of disparate cultures, all just stewing together in the tasty broth of freedom. That’s what made the country what it is today: A barren hellscape patrolled by Corporate Overbots, murderous brand-enforcement drones whose every thundering step sends fear into- Oh, sorry, that’s tomorrow. We skipped ahead a bit in the chronology. We meant to say, “That’s what made the country what it is today: a cultural powerhouse.” In fact, America Americas so hard that even other, less-American countries have to get in on this All-American action. Like …

5

North Koreans Hate America (But Love American Brands)

North Koreans are taught that everything wrong with the world — and especially everything wrong with North Korea — is solely the fault of America and the evils of capitalism. That’s why it’s so odd that, when French photographer Eric Lafforgue toured the country to capture a photographic essay of its people, he came back with pics like these:

Eric Lafforgue “Just Do It … Or You Go To Gulag.”

All across Pyongyang, Lafforgue encountered people sporting distinctly American corporate logos: Nike, McDonald’s, Mickey Mouse, and … Bart Simpson?

Eric Lafforgue Better to eat shorts than to eat nothing at all.

When asked about the products, citizens didn’t see any problem: They told Lafforgue that they were Chinese in origin. And that’s not entirely wrong — the vast majority of North Korea’s goods are imported from China, aka “America’s sweatshop.”

It doesn’t end at clothing: Here’s an obvious rip-off of America’s favorite soda, creatively relabeled “Cocoa Crabonated [sic] Drink.”

Eric Lafforgue GET CRABS.

After six successful trips to North Korea, and smuggling out hundreds of photos, Lafforgue was eventually banned from the country — whether for exposing its rampant poverty, its hypocritical love of Western products, or just to keep Coke from sending Copyright lawyers to Pyongyang, we simply do not know.

4

American Subcultures Never Die; They Just Retire To Japan

Japan has no shortage of unique subcultures, ranging from people who dress like dolls, all the way to people who dress like other, more disturbing dolls. But there’s plenty of America in that mix: Take, for example, Chicano Rap, coming at you straight from Tokyo (by way of East L.A., by way of Mexico). It all started when record label owner Shin Miyata became fascinated with everyone’s sixth favorite ’70s cop show, CHiPs, and the Chicano culture depicted therein. The subculture has since grown into a veritable phenomenon, complete with lowriders, black-and-white tattoos, and seriously on-point makeup.

They’re repping Eastside. No, farther east. Farther still …

Performers in the genre don’t mimic cholo lifestyle lightly — they full-on embody it, adopting entirely new identities like MoNa aka Sad Girl, El Latino, and GARCiA. But even Tokyo’s Cholos aren’t as dedicated as Tokyo’s Rockabillies.

This is revenge for Elvis’ “kimono” period.

Unlike America, where Rockabilly has been largely forgotten, the genre saw a huge resurgence in ’80s Japan, and it only grew in the ’90s. Now, on any given Sunday, you can find the Tokyo Rockabilly Club in Yoyogi park. Don’t worry, you can’t miss them: They’ll be the ones decked out in full leather, rocking out to the finest of the ’50s, and sporting duck’s ass hairdos you could — nay, should — ramp a DeSoto off of.

The line between “pompadour” and “anime lightning hair” is a fine one.

3

European “American Parties” Feature Red Solo Cups And A Million Calories

If Instagram is any indication, “American Parties” have taken Europe by storm, presumably landing at Normandy before sweeping south and to the east.

And you thought they hated us!

Everyone knows the only thing Americans love more than Old Glory and casual racism is fueling their ever-growing waistlines, so one of the most important aspects of an American party is the food: Sloppy Joes, hamburgers, hot dogs, pizza, donuts, popcorn, French fries, soda, and anything else with at least a 500:1 calorie-to-nutrient ratio. But the single most important element of any American Party is, of course, the humble red Solo cup.

And their version of beer pong is somehow more American than ours.

As any ’90s teen comedy film can tell you, it is literally impossible to throw a party in the U.S.A. without red Solo cups. They’re so crucial to the experience that Europeans have taken to begging their U.S.-bound friends and relatives to bring back as many packs of them as their luggage can handle.

That’s presumably also how they smuggle in their party attire, because there’s simply no other way to dress so authentically American:

That cop is missing, like, three layers of riot gear.

Of course, there’s a thin line between authenticity and “wildly offensive.”

Actually, this is pretty authentic too.

2

Germans Have A Strange Obsession With Playing Indian

Adult Germans have an inexplicable obsession with playing Cowboys and Indians. Well, with the “Indians” part, anyway.

Hey, if your most memorable cultural stereotype was the Nazis, you might widen your net, too.

Actually, digging into it a bit, it may be more explicable than we first thought: When American soldiers liberated Berlin at the end of World War II, they were surprised to find that, just like the kids back home, German children loved to play at a romanticized version of the American Old West. This was largely due to the work of German author Karl May, who drew upon his vast experience of having once read The Last Of The Mohicans to pen a series of novels recounting the thrilling adventures of Old Shatterhand, a German immigrant to America who travels the plains with an Apache leader known as Winnetou.

Those books, in turn, inspired an immensely popular series of 1960s films, and that’s how you wind up with countless Germans — who already have a “thing” for nudity — citing authenticity as an excuse to barely cover their dongs with miniscule strips of leather.

“Hey, baby. Wanna help me use every part of the buffalo?”

Germany is host to hundreds of hobbyist clubs in which “thousands of Germans with an American Indian fetish drink firewater, wear turquoise jewelry and run around places like Baden-Wurttemberg or Schleswig-Holstein dressed as Comanches and Apaches.” These enthusiasts spend their weekends camping out in teepees, reenacting battles between tribes, giving themselves native-sounding names like “White Wolf” and “Great Eagle (but not the Nazi kind),” and just generally doing lots of things involving feathers.

“THIS IS SHAWNEE!”

1

Brazil Has An Annual Festival Honoring The American Confederacy

If you’re a shitty person looking to flee the consequences of your own shittiness, look no further than South America. You might think we’re referring to its notorious infestation of Nazi war criminals, but they were just following in the grand tradition of defeated racists before them …

Eighty years before the Nazis fled to the sun and fun of Brazil, at least 10,000 Civil War Confederates did the same. Today, their descendants, known as the Confederados, honor their Southern American roots every April at the Festa Confederada in — no shit — Americana, Brazil.

In direct contrast to literally everything you’d rightfully assume about it, the “Confederate Party” is actually a multi-ethnic celebration, where people of every skin color gather to eat fried chicken, dress in period-appropriate clothing, square dance, and remain entirely oblivious to the bigoted roots of the culture they’re celebrating.

“We were told it was about states’ rights and nothing else, yes?”

If anything, the celebration is actively anti-hate, with festival organizers instituting a gate check where burly bouncers filter out anyone displaying the SS, the swastika, the KKK insignia, or any other imagery commonly associated with white supremacy … the obvious exception being, you know, all the rebel flags.

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from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/21/the-5-oddest-american-trends-that-other-countries-stole/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/168769089737