Just some chick.
By paddlepickle on Eight Voicemails from My Grandmother, Who Is Very Upset About the Apparent Death of My Career
Bahaha. When I worked for an organization that did progressive voter turnout, I walked into the office the day after Obama's election to find my boss on the phone with my Grandma, who was informing her that Obama's victory was entirely due to my efforts. Considering I have never seen her successfully use the internet I have NO IDEA how she found that phone number.
I'd agree this is gnarly, except that would be thorny.
Hey, my name is Matt, too!
Wait, am I the only person who LOVED this piece? I can't walk down the street without tripping over Alt-Bros. My life is full of Alt-Bros telling me that the career I've built for myself isn't half as good as the piece of ART that lives inside me IF I WOULD ONLY LET IT OUT.
Whenever an Alt-Bro starts going on about ART ART ART, I hear the sound of a seal.
What I guess A.O. Scott is deploring is the demolition of the Great White Man, not a real person, of course, but an icon overhanging America (the West?) for many generations. The male's larger body, heavier musculature, higher level of aggression, and team spirit were needed to fend off attacks and attack others during most of human evolution, but industrialism and capitalism produced machines, especially light lethal weapons, which had rendered that body's specialties practically superfluous by the beginning of the 20th century. There remained the moral image, and that was demolished by the just critiques of the feminists, the Civil Rights movement, and the hippies. Big Daddy has indeed disappeared, and the need to become adults has indeed descended upon us all. About time, too.
Oh, that Eco article slayed me. I love the tragic yearning of Krazy Kat so much!
Granny Clampett ought to kick A.O. Scott in the nuts.
By davidwatts on Take Time
TWO roads diverged on the internet
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it ended with me having a twitter argument with emily gould
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
I kept my take close to my side
and did not force it onto the net
to crash and clamor and fight for eyes
And that has made all the difference.
I have these people, nearer at hand than you'd ever want, in my family. Gun lovers. Hyperkinetic Christians for whom the Constitution is the True Scripture. They hate Jews but love Israel. "Obama" is a vile epithet; Bush was a pantywaist beholden to his Daddy. Afraid to Act.
They're folks who are after everyone five feet beyond the perimeter of their property's barbed-wire fence. "Property," by the way, is forever being taken from them, and the altar of the unrealized at which they kneel.
Hitler fascinates them. He was a nasty man, but brimming with Ideas. If you scrunched up your eyes and didn't think too hard about it you would see, how he could be One of Us.
He did Bad Things, but he had his reasons.
I would totally watch a SketchFactor competition reality show.