wrtbyagg

[wrtbyagg]

“The Cask of Amontillado” Dr. Suess Style

THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled --but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

Seuss: I knew a mean man, a very mean man. At every point to embarrass me he did all he can. Fortunato his name, his very mean name. But I’d beat Fortunato and his very mean game.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

Seuss: He’ll never suspect me for I have a trick. I’ll forth his best friendship, stick by stick.

He had a weak point --this Fortunato --although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; --I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.

Seuss: For the one thing Fortunato cannot resist, is wine, his suggestions he’ll surely insist. He’s so excited, and oh so cheerful. Maybe I’ll ask him about it and he’ll give me an earful. I know wine but not as well, I’ll let him teach me while leading him to hell.

It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.

Seuss: Carnival, carnival, such a joyous sensation. I see Fortunato, smelling of intoxication. He wore his jesture stipes, of yellow and turquoise. I thought, an interesting funeral attire choice.

I said to him --"My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day. But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."

Seuss: My dear Fortunato, what a crazy surprise. A man of the night, A man of good times. I hate to trouble you but I’ve received a faulty pipe, it claims Amontillado, would you believe this sight?

"How?" said he. "Amontillado, A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!"

Seuss: How said he. Amontiallado in that pipe? In the middle of the carnival? That cannot be right.

"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."

Seuss: I knew you would know

"Amontillado!"

Seuss: Amontillado

"I have my doubts."

Seuss: I knew you would know!

"Amontillado!"

Seuss: Amontillado!

"And I must satisfy them."

Seuss: I must know for sure

"Amontillado!"

Seuss: Amontillado

"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical turn it is he. He will tell me --"

Seuss: I’m going to make sure, my curiosity has upset me. I’m going to see Luchresi, I know he can help me.

"Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."

Seuss: Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry. Luchresi can’t even count from 1 to 3.

[wrtbyagg]

Style Exercises (The Room)

Retrograde:

She woke up to a bright light and several figures. Her head had just been dismantled from her body, unknowingly, by her friends. They’d drugged the absinthe they gave her for her birthday. She, Valentina, was turning 16. They had brought her upstairs to a dark room filled with smoke and black lights. Downstairs there was a rager happening in which she was passed random bottles of vodka from those in the crowded room.

 Surprises:

It was Valentina’s 16th birthday! Guess who threw her a party? Her best friends Adrienne, Lea, Scotty, Jordan and Wags! So sweet, but you’ll guess what happened when they went upstairs? They poisoned her absinthe! She passed out and then felt her head get chopped off but omg SHE WAKES UP AND IT WAS ALL A DREAM! Crazy party, right?!

Ignorance:

I went to that girls party. Yeah, I don’t really know her but there was free alcohol. Some dude named Kyle said there was gonna be a big surprise at the end, I didn’t see anything special. Were there a lot of people when the cops showed up? I mean yeah, the house was full. Did I see people coming downstairs? No one that I knew at least. All I heard was that some girl died, and nobody was around to see it. I haven’t heard anything other than that. I didn’t even see a body bag or anything, maybe she was just too fucked up and got scared. Whatever, I don’t think I’ll be going to any of those parties anymore if they’re just gonna get shut down by girls who can’t hold their liquor.

Visual:

The room was smaller than it looked. The walls were gray and there was a mirrored closet that took up the wall next to the door. My blurred vision made the wall with the window look larger than I’d seen it sober. The full-size bed looked like a raft against the wall. As I looked up, the pretty purple bulbs of the black lights gleamed like stars. I drifted onto the carpeted floor, surrounded by blurry bodies that were oh so familiar. Bottles clinking and smoke floating around made me feel like I was floating down a stream. I was lifted onto the blue mattress and placed down lightly. I looked up to the ceiling as my eyes began to shut. Each of the black lights expanded against the grey wall as I fell asleep.

Rainbow:

The bottle of crystal-clear vodka finally got to her hands as she happily bounced from friend to friend in the crowded room. As it burned down her throat, the music got louder, and her eyes blinked, displaying an expanded pupil covering most of the hazel that shows during regular hours. Her name is Valentina. “Val come upstairs with us!”, says Adrienne, followed with nods and signals from red faced Lea, Scotty, Jordan, Wags, and cute Kyle as Valentina refers to him. Excluding cute Kyle, these were members of Valentina’s friend group since middle school. They’re in 11th grade at this time. Valentina follows them upstairs in her purple shirt, entering a gunpowder grey tinted room full of smoke and black lights. "This one's for the birthday girl" Scotty announces, handing Valentina a large bottle with a green liquid in it. She drunkenly opens the bottle and begins to chug. Her hazel eyes start to water. “I just want to say thank you for this, guys. It’s been a rough few weeks. I really needed this.” Valentina says as she takes another swig out of another pink bottle.

[wrtbyagg]

Why we should Eliminate Clocks and Time as a Construct (Words and Music)

           From time to time, I like to get really deep in my head and explore certain realities that I know are only important because of how much emphasis society puts on them. I contemplate things like how small we are in comparison to the rest of the universe, how insignificant money would be if we just lived off the land like our far passed ancestors, and the most important concept of HOW TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT THAT SHOULDN’T DICTATE HOW WE SPEND OUR LIVES. As abstract sounding as these concepts may be, most people who’ve studied history, or done drugs realize that time only does one real thing, and that’s age us into monsters that are only concerned about what we can do with it before whatever life is, comes to an end.

Now, onto the song. In October of 1969, Chicago, formerly the Chicago Transit Authority, released their hit “Does Anybody Really Know What Time it Is?” on their debut album, and released the single the following year. A beautiful record that matched the acid tripped era, and capitalized a question being asked all around dirty open fields and smoke-filled basements in their own crafted ways. A point was made though, if time is something made up by us, then does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care about time anyway?

This song has always made a spot on my many playlists. I first heard of it when asking my mom what kinds of music she listened to when she was a teenager. She of course listed a mountain of Motown’s greatest, some funky disco culprits, and these jive mammajammas. My mom described them to me as “the cool white guys”, they had soul and rhythm outside of being disco based, she really dug that. When first hearing the beautifully improvised piano solo by master Robert Lamm, I could understand how a 16 or 17-year-old black woman from New Jersey could be drawn to this music amidst other ear filling choices of the day. It’s smooth, man. Really, that repetitive sounding lead into the intro of the song was something I only could have heard in a dream. Have you ever been intoxicated and thought of a repetitive beat or sound? That intro was something I’ve heard in my dreams.

The songs lyrics follow suit with my theory of this song being a high person’s experience. Simple verses that build as the consideration of time and its value are further harmonized. While listening to the first verse and into the chorus, I caught the gist of why my mom would’ve liked this song in her teen years, but I hesitated to ask. Surprisingly she answered the question for me by admitting to me she would be high most of the time. My mind went into oblivion as I reconsidered all of the times I got in trouble for being high at 16 and 17 years old. Regardless, my mom and I made a larger connection after sharing are diverse tastes in music. She’s always told me to live life to the fullest without any mention of time. Could it be the influence of the Chicago Transit Authority? Who knows?

           What I do know is that Robert Lamm was convincing enough to enhance a discussion between friends. An observation of the world and those around us, trying to beat this clock that consumes the moves we make. Being a college student, I can’t help but turn to this song when doing assignments, or even when I’m stressed about deadlines. I wish the argument worked on professors. I’m sure a lot of them would prefer not to worry about time. But all in all, I think it is important that we start asking if anyone really knows what time it is. On one scale, the clock we use to dictate our seemingly busy and sophisticated lives is no more than us listening and conforming to the rules of The Man. On another scale, the clock we should really be concerned about is the one that dictates the end of our planet, before the end of us. As days go on, the things that don’t worry about time are being the most effected by our clocks. Time is money and money is everything.

[wrtbyagg]

The Room

The bottle of clearacid finally got to her hands as she happily bounced from friend to friend in the crowded corridor. As it burned down her throat, the ceremonial hymn got louder and her eyes blinked, displaying an expanded pupil covering most of the hazel that shows during regular hours. Her name is Valentina. “Val approahes the hexle!”, says Adrienne, followed with nods and signals from Lea, Scotty, Jordan, Wags, and Kyle. Excluding Kyle, these were members of Valentina’s halycon party. They’re in their 11th year of assassin schooling. Valentina walks through an opening through a crowd of other students. The room full of smoke and black lit candles. "This one's for the birthday girl" Scotty announces, handing Valentina a large bottle with a mysterious green liquid in it. She intoxicatingly opens the bottle and begins to drink, ready to make her speech. Her eyes start to water. “I just want to say thank you to everyone for attending my coronation. Many of you know the story of my family and their founding of Martrydom” Valentina says as she takes another swig out of another bottle. Her parents founded the Martrydom Academy when she was just 3 years old. They were assassins like many of those in the room tonight. Here, you can either make friends or enemies. As she watches her friends around the room, her mind begins to race into oblivion as she's moved onto the ceremonial bench. Although she is breathing, she feels constraint in her arms. A cold breeze runs across her neck as she stares into the black lights surrounding her. The lights begin to dim as she finds her body dozing off. She feels an almost tickling sensation as her head falls a little bit backwards. Her eyes finally shut. What feels like two minutes later, she opens her eyes to a bright light and several figures. She’s still paralyzed but can only hear mumbling. Her eyes doze back closed and she can hear a bit clearer. Had she been wrong all along? Where her darkest concerns becoming truth? Did those who she considered friends actually decieve her? Was the halycon turning against her? Valentina snaps out of her sleep by the looks of everyone in the crowd, cheering. She looks at Adrienne and realizes her face might look of terror.  Should I be concerned about my halycon? Or was it all just a dream?

[wrtbyagg]

Crowbaby (Allegory)

               I think if I’d be seen by Mister Fredricks right now, I’d receive 29 lashes. Any slave caught with any sort of weapon would be strung up and whipped in front of the entire plantation. According to him, the current and updated Slave code is more humane than how it was when slavery was first in the U.S because it didn’t call for as many lashes. Back then I’d receive 40, but 29 was a nice number. The most I ever received in one sitting was 20. I called the police pigs in front of Mister Fredricks face. He and the 4 other police officers at the table didn’t like that much. They did enjoy watching my nude, adolescent body shedding more blood than a slaughter house. I wasn’t mad though, I knew what I said, and I meant it. It's times like this where I wish I could've grown up different. Different place, different time, different relationships, all different. But I can't and that's just how it is.

Right now, I’m on my way to work. My 12-guage is strapped tightly to my back as I climb through a small tunnel that will lead me to a card game. I’m being paid to kill 3 men that owe one of my clients a lot of money. Hopefully the moneys on the table, I could use a mango afterwards. About one hundred feet until, bingo. I find the ladder up to the small club. I crack the door to see what the scene looks like outside. Two large guards, no one else? I climb through the hole at the top of the stairs that leads me to a hallway where I see the guards. A kitchen to my right, I grab a tray with two glasses on it and make my way toward the men. Yes, I’m poisoning them. As they take my gesture, and fall face forward, I take a deep breath and go for the handle. It smells like beans and cabbage in this room. That's why I'm thinking about wanting to grow up different. If I was a different person at this very moment, I wouldn't have to suffer through this smell. Also, this isn't the worst part of my day or life for that matter. As I enter, a stranger, I black out. Coming back to my conscience, I grab what looks like a shit ton of jewelry and couple thousand dollars and head for the door. Leaving the bar, it doesn’t look like anyone was phased or disturbed. Working as a hitman in this city was easier than being a girl scout.

           This used to be Miami, Florida. Now it was the place without a name. The whole country was a nameless place after the uprising. Each part of what used to be America returned to its old roots. Slavery was back in the south, the west was a post-apocalyptic desert, the northeast took up old Amish traditions, and everywhere else was just everywhere else. It’s been 25 years since. I’m 19ish, I made it here when I was around 16. I burned down my plantation and freed everyone on it. I lost my family in the run away. They went west, I went south unknowingly. When you leave a terrible place, you only look forward.

I walk toward the white building, a door being opened by a man in a white tank top. Walking up the stairs of the building I hear screaming and loud music. Turning to my left, I see a small boy in a white suit playing with a puppy. He points the opposite way and I’m turned into a narrow hallway. I hate coming here during the afternoon because that little boy looks like an angel. He was always here when I’d make a delivery and I can't tell if he's real or just one of my demons messing with my head. I knock on a door with the number 59 on it. A man in a ski mask answers. The room is pitch black with one sofa and a fire place. There is a woman in a throne like chair turned toward the fireplace, her name is Lady C. There is a younger looking girl who she is on all fours. She’s resting her feet upon her back, it must almost be the weekend. Her back still turned to me, I say lowly "It smelled like cabbage in that place"                  

Lady C sinisterly smiles turning toward me "So you went a little crazy?"                                                                

This wasn’t the first time this has happened "I went a little crazy" I respond.                                                             

I pull out a bag of bloody jewelry and the money and hand it to Lady C. She removes her feet from the girls back and stands. We walk over to a small table in the corner of the room that is illuminated when she stands up. She places the items on the table and faces me.                                                     

  "You can have this money to do what you please on my behalf, other than that, I have something that might stain your dress a bit" Lady C says to me.                             

"It's a stolen piece, no sweat off my back. I'd like to see what you have"                  

She reaches under the table and hands me a large envelope. I look up to the her and she gives me a nod.                                           

I tell her confidently "I think I'm going further this time, northwest for my own good. Do you know anyone who could use me?"                                                                    

She pauses for a second, then tells me "I know two men with eyes of serpents. They are twins but they work separately. You can tell them your business with me and if they question I have no problem vouching. Are you sure you're ready for what may be ahead when you've been here years now?"

She knows that I’m hesitant, but she’s right. I’ve yet to go back north where my other demons await. I give her an honest answer "Thank you and yes. At this point I'm willing to die trying. I think I could suffice for a bit before finding work."                                                                    

I felt doubt from her face, but her words said other, “I don't doubt your ability. Down the stairs there is a garage."

She signaled the guard and he handed her a copper key with a crown on the top

Lady C continued to me "Well wishes for you and whatever you're in search of. Be careful of the hunters to the north of here. It is desolate and wide open. Do what you do best."

She hands the key to me and nods her goodbye as the guard opens the door back to the hallway.

           As I walked down the hallway I was just in, the little boy and the dog are gone. Down the stairs and in front of the building, I find the garage where a dune buggy with large wheels is parked. I opened the back compartment and see gasoline, and two large assault rifles in a long duffle bag. My excitement brings me into the vehicle and starts the buggy. A loud roar comes from within. Before I take off, I notice a Santeria proverb Lady C used to always say to me, “El hombre desaprueba lo que no puede realizar”. She told me to remember it in hopes of finally finding my true happiness. I back out of the garage and head down the beach front road. My new adventure started now.

You know what’s confusing? The way that I became the way that I am wasn’t through some rebellion. It was me fighting for my life and trying to use common sense in a world that had turned completely on its head. My mind often wonders what would have happened if I didn’t burn down that awful place. I think of them every day, laughing, tormenting, beating the shit out of me and the others. I used to feel like some sort of bad karma was to come but I’m starting not to feel so bad. I think about that day all the time.

~

A large plantation is shown filled with hundreds of guests. They are all white and wearing all white. On the farm grounds was me and momma, daddy and Sterling, my brother, staring at the large house. A handful of white men with confederate themed tattoos drunkenly stumble to the slave grounds and find themselves in front of me and my family

white guy 1: now this is living. a whole farm full of n*ggers who thought they got out of this a couple hundred years ago.

white guy 2: jokes on you. i guess natural selection was right the first time

white guy 3: or should i say white the first time

Still to this day, that’s the worst joke I’ve ever heard. The first white guy walked over to me.

white guy 1: yes, yes, who do we have here? you got a name girl, gon’ and speak it

I quietly answered “Patience”

white guy 3: what’d she say?

white guy 1: now who picks such a self-righteous name like that? see that’s how y’all ended up here.

He grabbed me by the back of the head and brought me closer to his face. I felt my face remain calm, this was nothing new to new. The man smelt like alcohol and cabbage

white guy 1: you real pretty Patience. do you know what pretty is?

I remained quiet as I stared into the man’s eyes deeply. One of the other white men went over to my mother and grabbed her by the throat. I saw father go to fight back but he was quickly beaten down by 3 other white males. My brother and other men try to help when they were faced with guns by the men. There is a whistle heard from behind. It was him, Mister Fredricks.

Fredricks: Y’all havin fun? There’s a whole party inside.

white guy 1: well I was just admiring your pretty possessions. this one seems real special

Fredricks: Patience is a real special one. Bring her up if you’d like

I knew then and there that every last abuse would be worth it for this very moment.

The white man gave me a very lustful but malicious glance. I’ll admit it, as hard as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t help but cower as I got dragged closer to the house. I knew my family behind me was watching intently, fear also striking them. Fredricks pointed to an outhouse. I remember quickly being thrown on top of a counter and fondled uncomfortably. The outhouse was filled with gasoline canisters. As I was mounted by this man he breathlessly spoke to me

white guy 1: well looks like I got me a crowbaby of my own

I black out a lot of what happened after. One second, I was covered in gasoline standing in front of the house. the large house set ablaze surrounded by the slaves including my family, guests in peril as they scream. My last memory of that awful place was Fredricks staring directly into my eyes through a window as his house and everyone inside burn.

~

I’m no Harriet Tubman or anything but damn, I think I did pretty good for 13-year old slave girl.

           When born into oppression, many try to figure out why. What could have been done in a past life to have had led to their current situation or what have you. Once you figure out that the world is evil you stop wondering “why you” but rather fight or flight. We chose fight, and now I’m alone.

As I drove up the empty road, I was faced with a large billboard, “Crow Territory” in large red letters. I figured I’d be close to Alabama by now. After escaping Louisiana, it was a culture shock to see what the outside world had turned into with my own eyes. Everyone heard and shared stories, but none of them came close to the real terrors.

I’m approaching a toll that requires me to provide different forms of identification. I have none. The dangers in this are that I could be arrested as a runaway, which is only half true. I look to the lefts and rights of the toll. I see armored cars, large dogs, and at least 25 white males. Looking a little bit closer, I see the separate entrances, one for whites and the other for colored people. I pull over to the side, not being able to tell if I’m in the view of the men at the toll. I look behind me to check the long duffle bag that was packed in the back seat. I find a few books, excessive amounts of ammunition and bingo a folder. Lady Charmian had supplied me with a vendor license that says I’m selling spices in Virginia, she really thought this through. I take a deep breath and drive back onto the road towards the toll. I pull up to the colored section and the car is approached by a large white man with a beard.

“Where you headed?” he asks sternly while I hand him the I.D. and vendor license.

“Virginia” I responded, my heart pounding. I try to stop myself from overthinking.

The man continues to look at my identifications. Slave codes ramble through my mind as I feel myself in danger.

~

“Why is there blood on my cotton? 10 lashes for all.” Fredricks announces from his horse.

~

The man stares at me and hands me my identification papers.

“You’ll wanna take the 10 to the 16, the signs are torn down, but that’s northeast toward Virginia.” he says looking at me.

“Thank you.” I say quietly as I grab the papers from him, I wonder where that man was during the uprising. He could’ve called me any name in the book, but instead stayed cordial.

I don’t think I’ve had this much time to think in a while. In old Miami, there was so much noise, I couldn’t help but think at a million miles a second. I continued down the lonely road that read Montgomery 50 miles north. I think of the burning down of this sad state after the uprising. I think of all of the horrible things black people faced in this sad state. I become sad. My father was born in Montgomery. He used to tell my brother and I all of the fights fought for us to walk down the street comfortably. He told stories of people like Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Malcom X, Angela Davis. Although he was born way after them, he knew what they meant to all of us, or at least what they should mean to all of us.

The sky is dimming. I see the stars begin to show in the southern twilight. I think of nights like this before the uprising. We used to camp at my grandparents house. After eating, brother and I would go out on the roof and look at the sky. The area was secluded, with nothing but trees around. It would be a silent night, just us and our surroundings. When I think about life back on the plantation, I remember how I longed for those moments again.

I never thought I’d make it to my grandparents house again. I pulled on to the hundredth of thousands of dark Alabama roads, hidden by the poplar trees Billie Holiday sang about. You’d think after 13 or 14 years, I’d forget somewhere that looked so familiar to everywhere else. Even before capture, this was the most familiar place to me. As I pulled up to the driveway, I looked at the place I spent every summer and almost every holiday. My heart grew warm but heavy knowing that the loves of my life weren’t waiting for me inside. I locked the buggy and grabbed the duffle from inside. I was surprised to see that the house was still in the shape I saw it in last. I never thought I’d feel safe anywhere again after the uprising. Even after escaping, I always felt karma creeping closely behind. The struggle narrative of the African-American wasn’t a thing for every black person, but it definitely wasn’t a myth either. As I lifted the door mat and saw the key with the sunflower on it, my shoulders dropped in relief, these sacred grounds were really the same. I walked into the house and reached for the light next to the door. Darkness, nonetheless. I grabbed the flashlight from my bag and turned to my right. The candle opry from my great-aunt Josephine was still in tip-top shape. I chuckled to myself, remembering her and my grandma’s back and forth relationship. Typical sisters.

           As I found and lit the other candles, memoirs of my life illuminated the rooms. I never put it into perspective that I may have never been able to see this place or any of these things again. I think about a lot of our history like that. Hearing about slavery and then going through it really fucks you up in the head. We’ve heard the nightmares, trauma, and lived through the after effects. It feels like I’m still enslaved in my thoughts with all of the things I remember like hours ago.

I make it upstairs to the room I remember so often. The faded pink walls and my black American Girl doll on the bed ignite an influx of feelings as tears roll down my tired cheeks. I lay down on the dusty twin bed as I exhale. Have you ever just needed to cry? I mean I cried plenty of times on the plantation, but those were reflexes. These tears feel like they’re long overdue. Like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Being here now, in this place so special, brought on a comfort I haven’t experienced in years. My shoulders relax as I finally realize that I may get more than 45 minutes of sleep. More tears fall as I realize that now it’s just me and my thoughts alone. This isn’t over. It had only just begun.

[wrtbyagg]

question&quotes

For this Monday’s readings, I thought that it may be better to depict my thoughts on these two texts with visuals. My question for the two would be how and where do the teachings of femininity and masculinity combine?

Feminism is For Everybody: Feminist Parenting

“Indeed the crisis the children of this nation face is that patriarchal thinking clashing with feminist changes is making the family even more of a war zone than it was when male domination was the norm in every household.“ Hooks 74

I thought of this video because I think it goes well with a lot of what people assume feminist parenting looks like. Now this may seem a little dramatic, but scrolling through social media, there’s this idea that the right way raise a good, non-controversial kid today. It’s really evident that a lot of people my age didn’t grow up with treatment in this video, rather more of the abusive natures described in the texts. I think that our generation, because of the internet and things like social media, our learning and understanding of things like feminism and even parenting are skewed based on what we hear from others. The rhetoric used on us as kids is completely different from how people on social media depict how parenting should be. What’s crazy is, we can almost always remember one traumatic (mentally or emotionally) that has shaped the way we grow and adapt in society, specifically in response to authority. 

Of Women Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution

“...the potential relationship of any woman to her powers of reproduction and children; and the institution, which aims at ensuring that the potential-- and all women--shall remain under male control.” Rich 13

I’ve thought of the notion of the institution before knowing how to put it in words. I think that this text does a really good job. I automatically thought of Charlotte Pickles from Rugrats because she was the first depiction I ever realized trying to work around that idea. As bad as Angelica, her only daughter, was, Charlotte made sure to teach Angelica how to always come out on top. I’ve seen the two ideas of moms (working or stay at home) clash in ways that didn’t make sense to me. People truly believed that a mom working was insane and negligent. I grew up with both my parents working full time, my mom would leave for the city before me or my sister woke up, and I’d see my dad around dinner time after dropping me off in the morning. Even though I didn’t understand the concept of money and bills at a young age, I never had the urge to ask my mom to skip work and spend time with me, because she always made time. The notion that you have to chose your job or your family is still seen in mainstream society today. A lot of people have things to say but at the end of the day, ARE YOU GOING TO PAY MY BILLS IF I DON’T WORK????? Like seriously, make it make sense!!!! If a child was truly being neglected because a parent has to work all the time, that clearly makes a bigger statement about the society we live in and less on the parent trying to make it work.

[wrtbyagg]

questions&quotes

These 3 readings for Monday have me in a different mindset and my reactions to them were all kind of different. My question for this q&q is: how are/will/can zines become the new narrative for teaching the struggles of others?

The first reading talks about this new racial gene pool and ambiguity, which I didn’t quite understand at first. I think that there is a lot of ambiguity within races that have been colonized already, specifically latinx countries. My family is Cuban and Bahamian with sprinkles of Puerto Rican. Because the Caribbean community at home is so small, when I came to Syracuse it was like a culture shock. This is when I learned a lot more about anti-blackness in terms of colonization. I thought about some Dominicans and how they often look black but do not want to identify as such. I think that ambiguity within that is a lot of them like to identify with black culture, say nigga, this/that and the third but when it comes down to asking if they're black, it’s like no I’m Dominican. It honestly makes no sense, almost as if they’re trying to ignore history even though its so blatant that many Dominicans and most Caribbean people derive from slaves. 

The second reading I thought was informative to say the least. I’ve read zines before but I don’t think I 100% knew what exactly they were. It was like a comic book but kind of like a journal I guess? Anyway I think that this third-space theory is really smart for zines. I think in this way, a lot of people who perceive the zines will get the concepts in a tone that may be more (or at least seem) open. I think that when people try to understand topics like racism and how to be anti-racist, it draws either a feeling of blame shift or guilt. I think this is why people apart of majorities don’t do their own research on these subjects because they feel like the narrative is already shifted against them. I think that although they may not identify with the more personal cultural perspective, it’s like reading a fictional story, pictures only boost that interpretation. In terms of minority perception, I think that zines do well at making those connections between the often oppressed group and emotions that have been felt but unsaid. In reading something that you can connect to in that way, it’s almost like a weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

For the last reading, I thought a lot about social movements today and how emotion aids certain causes better than others. In talking about assault, the #metoo movement has received both acclimation and criticism for being both emotionally and personally fact driven. I’ve heard people talk about how victims are the problem because they waited so long to reveal trauma. Without knowing how a situation feels, I think its safe to say that people often draw their own conclusions and solutions to several issues. Many people have never experienced trauma, and cannot say what they would have done until they’ve actually been in the situation. The same applies to racism and sexism. A non-black person (no matter if they are POC) will never fully understand the issues faced by us just as we will never fully understand their issues. I think the main idea for this is to not group all people of color as one and realized that although struggles can be shared, there’s always the layers that go unsaid and unseen. 

[wrtbyagg]

Language and behavior is something I didn’t realize were so closely related in my personal life. Where I’m from, the San Francisco Bay Area, a lot of the behavior that I see is based off an entire language movement. Although the movement was happening before I was born, even today the behavior and the influence of the movement remains relevant to Bay Area Natives all over. The first time I was exposed to this movement was around four or five years old. My sister and I are eight years apart, so she got to witness and even participate in some of the coolest things any Bay Area kid could dream of. Things like sideshows, which are basically parking lot parties with loud music and people doing tricks with their cars and having everyone speaking the same slang was that sense of community that I looked forward to when I got to be her age. When she got to high school, it was even cooler to hang around her and her friends. She and a friend had got nominated for their Homecoming King and Queen. In the process, they had to come up with a creative skit to add points to their team. My sister, her partner, and all of their closest friends were set on a Hyphy Movement themed performance that sure enough rocked the gymnasium. Thinking of all the songs that they listened too, all of the dances they did back then are the same ones my friends and I do and listen to when we get together. When other people don’t understand what were doing or why were doing it, we just say we’re getting “hyphy”.

The language of the Hyphy Movement has stuck around for decades. Popular words like “hella”, have hit the mainstream hard in places like Los Angeles and parts of the Southwest. When I would travel places and hear certain words from home, my first question was if they were actually from the Bay Area. My second question being where they would’ve heard this language? The spread of this language and the knowledge of behavior is an interesting thing when looking closely. Video 2 is a great example of comparison between people from Los Angeles and people from the Bay Area in terms of overall swagger.

The expression of behavior that is most commonly related with Bay Area slang is dancing. The Hyphy Movement coined certain dance moves as being significant to the Bay Area. The most popular being the Thizzle Dance. A dance inspired by the common use of the manmade party drug known as Thizz, a combination of ecstasy, cocaine, and possibly any other materials. The drug was popular around the Bay Area for things like parties. Late Bay Area Rapper Mac Dre created the song the Thizzle Dance which soon became a widespread anthem and trademark. The most beautiful connection between the Bay Area and the Thizzle Dance is that people continue to do it, with or without drug use. It’s also known to be a go to dance for natives whenever any song comes on. I can definitely say that it’s an automatic reaction to music. When I party at home, it’s the most amazing thing seeing everyone immediately start bopping up and down in unison. It is a feeling like no other. Another common dance style in the Bay Area is called Turfing. Turfing was created in mimicking the movement of the cars at a sideshow. It involves some fancy footwork and creative hand and arm movements. When my sister was in high school, I strongly remember going to a dance show where at least two different acts performed a Turfing dance. 

Once comparison that is commonly made to help people understand why Hyphy is more than just a word is that it is the same as the word Crunk. Crunk hails from the Southern United States. It too, just like Hyphy has made a name for places like Atlanta, Georgia. The only difference between Hyphy and Crunk is that Crunk actually gets misunderstood by many people outside of the south that use the word. It’s a form of getting intoxicated but transformed into something more influential in terms of music, behavior, and in larger hip hop culture. Hyphy on the other hand is marginalized to the Bay Area. The movement has inspired many people from different parts of the U.S. Alabama rapper YBN Nahmir cites rappers like Bay Area Locals E-40 and G-Eazy as his influences. A lot of areas may share similar language but speak completely different dialects. The only personal example I can think of in this instance is the difference between Northern California and Southern California. People often forget that California takes up majority of the west coast. Within my state, there are so many varieties of language. California is popular amongst immigrants from all over the world. The interesting thing is that unlike places like New York City, where many areas are known for having heavy populations of people who’ve immigrated from the same place, non-natives are all over. I went to Los Angeles to visit family, which is six to seven hours away from where I live. I wasn’t actively paying attention to language patterns then, but I notice the similarities and differences in the ways that I interacted with my family. I also noticed when they would say Bay Area words like “hella”, it would catch me off guard a bit. Similarly, that’s also happened here in Syracuse. A lot of the friends that I made when I transferred here are from New York state, already having their own slang. One of my current roommates who is one of those friends tried using some of my slang and it caught both of us off guard. We figured that maybe slang is special because when used, it provides a sense of identity with somewhere or something. If you can’t relate to whatever the identity may be, it may not feel a smooth using the slang. 

In Marilyn Cooper’s article, “The Being of Language”, she discusses the relationship between humans and language. She states “As patterns of behavior, language practices emerge from complex systems such as societies, cultures, or ecologies, in which beings, material forces, and things respond to one another in recurrent interactions. Anything that affects who participates, how many interactions there are, and the nature of the interactions will cause changes in the practices.”, which I connected with the Hyphy Movement its impact on the Bay Area as well as other places in the United States. I asked a few of my friends that are from other areas in America about what their hometown slang said about them and where they come from. I first asked my friend Jennifer, who’s from Pennsylvania. Jenn told me that she loves her slang from back home and how it gives some sort of belonging. When she hangs out with her friends back home, there is a mutual understanding of community beyond their friendship. She told me that high school really developed her sense of connection with her hometown. Another friend of mine is Tang, he comes from Long Island, New York. He’s always excited to talk about where he’s from. He told me that he feels his slang is a form of expression. He loves meeting other people from Long Island here at Syracuse because they all share a common identity. Closer to Tang in distance is my friend Bry, who comes from Yonkers, New York. I asked her and my other friend Nia from North Carolina to come up with some behavioral things they could think of that may or may not have influenced certain language where they come from. Bry described New Yorkers as short-tempered, fast-paced, somewhat hot-headed, but chill nonetheless. Nia described the south as being completely opposite. She brought up things like holding the door open for people, saying things like “yes ma’am”. Nia claimed that people are very formal and polite where she comes from.

           Personally, I believe that language and behavior are closely mirrored. One of the only things that humans are guaranteed to do is communicate with each other. It doesn’t matter if we don’t all speak the same language. I think of behavior and language in a sense of if I’m trying to explain something to someone and they don’t understand me in English, I can do things like use my hands or draw something out. Language and behavior depend heavily on setting. Because language is constantly changing, it may not seem that I’m speaking proper English when conversing with friends or family, but to me it is. If I’m at school or in a more professional setting, my entire demeanor changes, not only for me but everyone around me. Interactions between people are products of language because we base what we say and do on who, what, when, and where. Another interesting aspect of this is that how we use language can reflect how we behave or how others perceive our behavior. Our environments have much to do with how we learn language. People coming from different backgrounds and using different versions of one large language like English, makes it easier for people to make assumptions on who those people are. When I speak in Bay Area slang, people make the connection that I’m not from anywhere near New York. My language and behavior reflects heavily on the years before me of Bay Area culture and formation of what is now known as Hyphy. 

[wrtbyagg]

Process

The reason that I made a poster instead of doing a power point or other type of presentation is because of the modernity of the topic. Digital Rhetoric is something that is fairly new to traditional rhetorical practice so I thought it would be smart to somewhat advertise it as such. My audience is people that are constantly using the internet and digital spaces to either socialize, educate, or learn. I see a lot of rhetoric on the internet already. People using the rhetoric don’t really understand rhetoric as it is, nonetheless Digital Rhetoric. I think that I made this a lot simpler from my essay explanation of my topic because the internet and technology is there to simplify things that we do every day. I included the straight forward information, like the definition and the anticipation for the inclusion of Digital Rhetoric in formal, and casual settings. I think the way that I was able to establish exigence was with the small comments that I made on my poster like “coming to a textbook near you”. I felt like adding that would put some sort of sense of urgency on the matter that it is new and will soon be well known by many. I think the poster will reach more people because it’s short and straight to the point. In todays society, many people don’t take to long texts as well. I think that this poster is perfect for the busy minded individual with the low attention span.

[wrtbyagg]

Digital Rhetoric: lol

Digital Rhetoric can be analyzed in several different layouts, contexts, and on a multitude of platforms. The beginning relationship between digital media and rhetorical studies is not a new one. The term became more popular after the middle of the 1990’s when digital media began to circulate more frequently throughout the United States. Digital Rhetoric studies are trying to come together in finding out how these new means of communication are going to impact language, socialization, and speech for humans. A brand-new era has already begun with the advancement in technology, digital rhetoric will stand as a staple of it. Dialects and new forms of language are being created at the same rate that old language is hypothetically “dying out”. The true test will be for those who choose not to adapt to the new ways. Unfortunately, the somewhat balance there is between digital and not will not be able to stand for too much longer. As scary as it seems, technology has the upper-hand and it’s up to society to give it full control or not.

            The main focus of the study of digital rhetoric comes from a diversity of ideas that digital media has to offer in the first place. In a symposium that was had between both modern and classical rhetoricians, they narrowed down a study of six essays. One essay titled “Looking Back and Looking Forward: Digital Rhetoric as Evolving Field” written by Doug Eyman focuses on the historical context of the formation of digital rhetoric. Eyman describes digital rhetoric as “’…most simply defined as the application of rhetorical theory (as analytic method or heuristic for production) to digital texts and performances.’ Just like rhetoric itself, digital rhetoric is both productive and analytic, so it has to provide methods for both evaluation and making.” (Eyman). He goes further to describe the two terms rhetoric and digital in order to explain where they are able to synthesize where these terms meet. The importance of understanding where digital rhetoric really has a place in our society is through media studies.

            The interesting part about digital rhetoric studies are the different methods of researching patterns. In an article written by the Digital Rhetoric Collaborative titled “On Digital Rhetoric”, they give a few examples of what types of things are studied in the researching of digital rhetoric. Two that I found interesting were the identifying of characteristics, affordances, and constraints of new media, and the formation of digital identities (Digital Rhetoric Collaborative). I find these interesting because the infusing of these practices allows a lot of room for us to decide where and what the communication boundaries are. This becomes interesting in finding new ways on the internet to establish exigence to a large audience and see if it’s able to have the same influence as a formally printed essay. I see the best example of this on platforms like Twitter and Facebook. People are able to persuade others into doing certain things or support certain causes because of the pooling of these digital community identities.

As progressive as digital rhetoric might seem, there are positives and negatives to everything. In the article by the Digital Rhetoric Collaborative, they referenced many different studies done on digital rhetoric. One analyst that they do a lot of research into is James Zappen, who’s been working in Digital Rhetoric Studies since the 1990s. One of James Zappen’s essays titled “Digital Rhetoric: Toward an Integrated Theory”, discusses the challenges and advantages of taking on Digital Rhetoric as a true part of rhetorical practices. Zappen states “The concept of a digital rhetoric is at once exciting and troublesome. It is exciting because it holds promise of opening new vistas of opportunity for rhetorical studies and troublesome because it reveals the difficulties and the challenges of adapting a rhetorical tradition more than 2,000 years old to the conditions and constraints of the new digital media.” (Zappen). The study of rhetoric came a long time before current human history with many different approaches and perspectives on how to do it correctly. Now that there is a better and larger understanding of the practice, it is being applied to the new technology that has become apart of everyday human communication. The hard part about applying these methods to modern technology is that there is still no correct way to do rhetoric. If one were to try and define the characteristics of rhetoric outside of persuasive and effective, what would be included if anything else? The study of rhetoric in a digital space must begin with research of the rhetorical situation of the space. For the internet, rhetorical situations are not difficult to locate. Almost every website makes use of rhetoric in some sort of way. The websites that have actually hold rhetorical banter are social media websites. Social media has become a forum for all who have access to the internet to come and share their opinions, thoughts, or commentary on an unlimited number of topics. I believe that this is going to be the staple of the study of Digital Rhetoric and how humans will be able to further understand how to effectively and persuasively interact with others online.

Another aspect that is important to take into consideration is why rhetoricians decided to take on new media and further the development of digital rhetoric. The 21st century is the first to have ever seen more than just print based media. In an academic article written titled “How Rhetoric and Composition Described and Defined New Media at the Start of the Twenty-First Century” by Courtney Werner, explores the contributions of new types of media to rhetoric and composition based on studies done by rhetoricians and other linguists. Werner cites rhetoricians Jonathan Alexander and Jacqueline Rhodes discussing their reasons for why multimodal and new media texts are important to understand, study, and teach to students. Alexander and Rhodes both claim “’our students’ compositional landscape has changed,’”, Werner follows by adding “…and so has our own: we daily struggle with, interact with, engage with new written genres.” (Werner). Its fair to say that the landscape and expectations of traditional writing, both academic, and formal have changed since the inclusion of new media in linguistics and rhetorical practices. Digital Rhetoric would be a lot easier to form if there wasn’t already a layout of the practice of rhetoric. Since the practice of rhetoric is so ancient and sacred, there’s no way for Digital Rhetoric to exist without the inclusion or synthesis with traditional practices of rhetoric. This merger of linguistical reformation will eventually create a new and globalized dialect that will turn global understanding.

The further development of digital rhetoric will begin to weave into our society and change the way that people communicate and understand one another. Digital Rhetoric is different from spoken or written rhetoric in that the digital space has altered the ways and meanings of words and phrases that are understood differently when normally expressed vocally. The integration of digital rhetoric understanding has both positive and negative effects. The importance of understanding digital rhetoric is in that once we gain an understanding, there’s a better chance of us being able to manipulate the application of rhetoric and guarantee it to work in a true linguistic favor. The multitude of digital platforms give new ways for people to test out persuasion and argument.

                                                      Works Cited

Eyman, Douglas. “On Digital Rhetoric.” Digital Rhetoric Collaborative, 16 May 2012, www.digitalrhetoriccollaborative.org/2012/05/16/on-digital-rhetoric/.

“Introduction: What is Rhetorical about Digital Rhetoric? Perspectives and Definitions of Digital Rhetoric.” Introduction: What is Rhetorical about Digital Rhetoric? Perspectives and Definitions of Digital Rhetoric | Enculturation, enculturation.net/what-is-rhetorical-about-digital-rhetoric.

Werner, Courtney L. "How Rhetoric and Composition Described and Defined New Media at the Start of the Twenty-First Century." College Composition and Communication 68.4 (2017): 713-41. ProQuest. 8 Nov. 2017 .

Zappen, James P. "Digital Rhetoric: Toward an Integrated Theory." Technical Communication Quarterly 14.3 (2005): 319-25. ProQuest. 8 Nov. 2017 .

Process

            My rhetorical impact is that of the new wave of linguistic activity. There is rapid growth in the new technology that people forget that these practices were once simplified. I don’t think that I had any limitations writing this paper. Because the subject was somewhat academic, the research that I did came from scholars and people who had studied, taught, and are continuing research on this topic. Also, it helped that this topic of Digital Rhetoric is pretty recent, so I was able to track the growth of the practice from the 1990s up until now. The hardest part of this project was probably getting people to care about Digital Rhetoric. It seems like those on social media have already somewhat mastered the craft, they probably just don’t realize what they’re doing. I think that my paper is relevant in more than a few ways for a larger conversation about technology and the future of language, which I find really fascinating as a writing major.

[wrtbyagg]

Adulthood: Where Art Thou?

My first experience in going through puberty happened right before the sixth grade. I was almost 11 years old, moving away to a new school, and fighting the consistent anxiety of having to be the new kid again. As the first day of school crept up in late July, I planned out an awesome outfit, cute hairstyle, and a backpack to match. I went to brush my teeth and as soon as I looked in the mirror, there stood the largest, most inflamed pimple I’d ever laid my eyes on at the time. As I noticed that one blemish, I noticed freckles I never had, I noticed facial hair I never had, I noticed all these things that caused me to fear a day I had already had a head start on being afraid of. At the end of middle school, around 10 kids from my school got expelled for being intoxicated at school and eating pot brownies during class. To give you an idea of my knowledge of drugs and alcohol during middle school I’ll say this, I thought that the only alcohol was wine and that pot brownies were just brownies in a pot. Once I passed the awkwardness of middle school, came high school, where I learned more about what those kids in my grade did that day. In my town, that introduced a fast change into the world of young adults. Growing up, I got the hint that change physically and mentally was inevitable and that there was only more to come as I got older. Between the ages of 18 to my current age of 21, I’ve grown up more than the prior years of my life. Adulthood is something that for years has caused people in my age group constant fear and anxiety. I compare this feeling to the way that I felt at the age of 11, right when my body started changing, I had no idea what was going on half the time, and I was an emotional wreck most of the time. In that time period, I also learned a lot about myself and others my age. Luckily as the mistakes continued to flow just as natural as the small successes of young adult life, I learned that it’s okay not to have it all together at this point in time.   

There is a lot of stigma in the development of kids and teenagers from an adult perspective. Luckily, if there is any physical explanation as to why young adults don’t always have their shit together by 18 it would be because the human brain does not fully develop until the around the age of 25. The prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain that controls impulses and decision making, doesn’t fully develop until between about 25-27. This is why adults tell kids to stay away from things like alcohol and drug use. It’s why kids don’t understand “what’s the big deal?” when they are told the unavoidable truth about what we consider just having a good time. When I was 15, I started exploring some of the social scene outside of my school. I was hanging out late, avoiding my responsibilities, and pretty much going against a lot of what my parents told me not to do. When I would get in trouble and they would ask me “why did you do it?” a lot of the time I really didn’t know why. Sure, I took into consideration the consequences and risks of my actions, but I still did them. I know I speak for a lot of young people when I say that sometimes we do make the same mistakes. I know for a fact that I got in trouble for almost every bad thing I did at least twice. In high school, things seem a lot safer. After high school, everyone got the impression that we were adults and that rationality and responsibility were just supposed to click in our heads. At the age of 18, I was not ready to take care of myself, and I can say that for a lot of my peers. At the age of 18, my parents gave me the least amount of freedom from their guardianship. I remember my mom telling me about her coming into adulthood and how easy of a transition she had because of the time period. She turned 18 in 1971 and moved to New Orleans, Louisiana with my aunt from Pemberton, New Jersey. My mom was able to find a job, support herself, and put herself through community college. I know many young adults that would pay to even have that luxury. The speedy independence came with the times. The 70s was all about love, freedom, and being able to find yourself. The scariest part about the coming of adulthood is that you think you have a grasp on it but then it hits you with more twists and turns than expected. Along with constant angst and confusion, you still have to hold it together because the rest of your adult life depends on how these next few years. 

If there’s one way to see if you’re adulting correctly would be to cross off certain achievements that no one over the age of 18 could achieve. Common achievements usually include moving out of your parents’ house, paying your own phone bill, or getting married. I read an article titled “When are You Really an Adult”, which explores my same curiosity with the struggles of becoming an adult. The article discusses similarly these small achievements more as a collection of markers in adulthood. A point that I feel is important to acknowledge for a lot of young people are that there are factors that do not determine reaching adulthood like age and physical maturity (The Atlantic). I think that it is often common to see people try and gauge people with mature looking features to act a certain way. The article says it best when stating ”Adulthood is a social construct. For that matter, so is childhood. But like all social constructs, they have real consequences.”(The Atlantic). For lack of better questioning, does the punishment fit the crime? What I mean by that is, for all the shaming against Millennials, Generation Z and all of the things that we are supposedly killing off, is it fair to be held to the same standards as people that became adults in a time that was simpler? I’m not knocking the success of generations before, I’m just stating the obvious that things are a lot harder for people my age in this time period. Things are getting more expensive, jobs are getting harder to find, and people aren’t able to connect with each other because they’re too anxious about doing something to mess up the rest of their lives. Social media has aided for the prevalent themes in our reaching adulthood. 

My generation has had many changes to the way that we were brought up as things like technology and social media came into play. Things like Myspace, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and the rest to come took a hard hit at our then growing self-esteem and opened a can of new norms and standards given for us pre-teens to strive toward and follow. Not only did we have to deal with growing up ugly, we had a new form of judgement through people we began interacting with on the internet and other technology. I remember the importance of my Myspace page and who my “top friends” were. I also remember being constantly monitored by my older sister, who had already graduated onto Facebook by now. She warned me about this world within itself and the dangers that it held over young people. I of course didn’t listen to a word of it. I felt like social media was there to showcase myself to a part of the world I didn’t know existed. I knew that this new validation of acceptance from people I sometimes didn’t even like was filling some gap of my self-esteem that I had no idea existed until I became a part of the digital communities. As we grew up, so did the internet. After the Myspace and Facebook phases passed, things like Twitter and Instagram became more popular. Twitter was a different type of platform because it focused on peoples’ thoughts. What would I care about what other people my age thought? I had my own problems going on behind the screen to worry about. It wasn’t until I a Tweet from a random girls account that said “I have two tests, an essay, and a full book to read. I guess it’s nap time”. At that point I knew for a fact that some of the thoughts and internal struggles are not only placed on only me. These acknowledgement of these thoughts and feelings receive thousands of retweets and comments from people saying that they go through the same problem. Twitter has grown alongside Generation Z, along with other forms of social media. There are now Twitter accounts that specialize in tweeting things that are relevant to the lives of certain age groups. We turn to these platforms because of the mutual understanding that we’re all facing these strange and confusing times, but eventually we’ll reach true adulthood.

The moral of the story is, it’s okay not to have it all together. Everyone else is faking it just as hard as the next person. It’s important to not place so much pressure on young people growing into adulthood, chances are they’re already putting mountains of pressure on themselves. This time period will never get easier, so the important thing to remember is to take it day by day. Adulthood will never be easy, if that were the case, they’d probably call it Easyhood instead.