I feel like every man who has ever tried to convince me to take some rando shouting “Hey girl, nice ass” at me as a compliment sees it this way: You’re sitting outside some Italian café in a Betty Draper dress sipping a prosecco when all of a sudden your dainty neck scarf flies off in the light breeze. Joseph Gordon Levitt, wearing a linen suit with a pocket square and no socks with his penny loafers, steps off his Vespa and hands it to you while saying something witty about how it’s almost as beautiful as you are. You then both ride off into the sunset, laughing as Dean Martin plays in the background and the director yells cut on the espresso commercial that is your life.
In reality, it’s you getting yelled at by a bunch of sweaty men standing outside a bar at eight in the morning, telling you about how fuckable you look in your sweatpants when you’re just trying to get a bottle of milk in peace like a goddamn human being. And it is the opposite of a compliment.
"The first Thanksgiving Day did occur in the year 1637, but it was nothing like our Thanksgiving today. On that day the Massachusetts Colony Governor, John Winthrop, proclaimed such a “Thanksgiving” to celebrate the safe return of a band of heavily armed hunters, all colonial volunteers. They had just returned from their journey to what is now Mystic, Connecticut where they massacred 700 Pequot Indians. Seven hundred Indians - men, women and children - all murdered.
This day is still remembered today, 373 years later. “ No, it’s been long forgotten by white people, by European Christians. But it is still fresh in the mind of many Indians. A group calling themselves the United American Indians of New England meet each year at Plymouth Rock on Cole’s Hill for what they say is a Day of Mourning. They gather at the feet of a stature of Chief Massasoit of the Wampanoag to remember the long gone Pequot. They do not call it Thanksgiving. There is no football game afterward.
I remember getting older and learning what really happened and sitting in history class stunned.
I was in about 8th grade or so….up until that point, all I had known was cutesy Scholastic images of pilgrams and “indians” at dinner together. They would have us make little paper hats of either native head dress or pilgrim top hat.
And they made it fun. For years.
And I can remember sitting in the classroom thinking they lied to us. About everything. And when I got older still the gravity of it was just…Because they wouldn’t say in the books that the massacre and thanksgiving had anything to do with each other.
And it made me wonder why is it so important to keep the party and the ignorance going? Why is this teaching of bold lies acceptable for generations?
OH YES if i listen to “cool” music/music you think of as “obscure” (hahaha lol) it MUST be because my male friend/boyfriend/brother/any other male person in my life showed me and NOT because i found out about it MYSELF
On the morning of George Zimmerman’s acquittal of Trayvon Martin’s murder earlier this year, with the mainstream media raising the specter of riots, blogger Jay Smooth made a prediction: ‘The fundamental danger of an acquittal is not more riots, it is more George Zimmermans.’
There were no riots. There have been more George Zimmermans.
“I find it impossible to write fiction that’s set after 2002. [….] It’s just that it’s inconceivable to depict contemporary times authentically without including interludes where characters stare at their cell phones instead of advancing their plotlines – their lives – towards some conclusion. Which is, as a thing to read, mind-numbingly dull. Unless I write “and then his Galaxy 4’s battery died” no one can ever get lost, forget an important fact, meet a partner outside of a dating site, or do anything that doesn’t eventually have them picking up a phone. So I’m stuck writing about an era where Ethan Hawke was considered the pinnacle of manliness.”—
It is just unbelievable how “old man yells at cloud” neo-luddites come off when they go on rants about how technology is destroying everything interesting about humanity. I mean, leaving aside the bizarre circlejerk that is the second half of the article, which is its own trek into evidence-free weirdness, it’s just like…how much of a fucking dinosaur do you have to be to write paragraphs like this? And it’s not just this dude.
I mean, you can’t throw a rock without hitting some cranky middle-aged white-dude author who’s been kind of successful (or really successful) for a while now going “Kids these days with their Honeys Boo Boo and their feetball and their Pokemons and their cell phones and their utterly banal and uninteresting alienation that occurs even while they’re simultaneously more connected than ever before.”
You, as a writer, honestly cannot come up with any way to either incorporate phones interestingly or a way to ignore them convincingly? None? To the point that you’re “stuck” being unable to set your work past the ’90s? You do realize that you’re self-identifying as less adaptable and clever than like 80% of sitcom writers in that case, yeah?
I mean, the only way you can come to the conclusion that this is just impossible to do is if you were either tragically unimaginative to begin with or if your refusal to engage with the technology is so complete that you’re left sincerely judging these things by their ad campaigns.
You don’t want to engage with the technology? Fine. Leave it on the cutting-room floor. Nobody wants to read about somebody playing CandyCrush for half an hour on the subway if that’s the only thing going on. (Other things nobody wants to read about: A character watching tv for half an hour, a character reading a book for half an hour, a character knitting for half an hour, a character spending half an hour doing nothing but plowing a fucking field, etc.) You can’t come up with a way to make phone-use interesting and plot-advancing? Sorry, that’s you sucking.
Technology isn’t perfect. Technology isn’t uniformly accessible. Technology is subject to user error, and outages, and sabotage, and theft.
[London tube announcement sign reading “For the benefit of passengers using Apple iOS 6, local area maps are available from the booking office.”]
Yeah. GoogleMaps will quite frequently send you rabbiting through a loop of toll road for no reason, too. Or confidently insist that your new dentist’s office is in the middle of a highway, or that a patch of territory really belongs to the wrong country. GPS apps will cheerily direct you to make a left-hand turn where strictly prohibited, or instruct you to drive into the sea. You can absolutely get lost without your phone dying.
Careless accidents or casual misbehavior can take on horror-movie proportions given the right circumstances. Giving in to the temptation of a quick surreptitious Googling of your date or a new acquaintance while they’re in the bathroom can cast a completely new light on things they’ve said and leave you spending the rest of the evening in a conversational Twilight Zone. An unlocked phone left unattended presents an opportunity for snooping previously unheard of without having access to someone’s home. A lost or stolen phone presents the possibility of trouble in a similar proportion, only with added malicious intent and threats of damage. The immediacy of contact can be used to defuse or accelerate confrontations, or add new layers to previously-established inter-character tension.
As many interesting plot-device limitations as phones (theoretically) destroy, they provide that many more new opportunities. Or you just come up with new ways to retain the same limitations. When residential lines became the expectation, films started establishing that service was out, or the line was cut, or that the home didn’t have one in order to explain why characters didn’t just call somebody. Once candy-bar phones became de rigueur, stories started establishing that nobody had any bars. Smart phones are now sidelined by apps not working, or batteries being drained, or service being unavailable. Done and done. Hell, even in any area with perfect reception and functionality, emergency situations can still involve yelling at a 911 operator that you’re on the side of the fucking road being attacked by a fucking O-T-T-E-R, and no, you don’t have a fucking address to give them.
If you don’t want to bother with that, fine. If you prefer to write in a time when these things didn’t have to be taken into account, that’s fine, too. But don’t sit there acting like it can’t be done interestingly or intelligently or to the benefit of the plotline, if you care to take two seconds and consider how all that information, connection, and accessibility grits or greases the gears for your characters and your plots.
"Sandra of the Secret Service" was the lead feature in New Fun: The Big Comic Magazine #1 (1935), the first comic book ever published by National Allied Publications (later renamed DC Comics), predating Superman by three years.
I think it’s weird that this isn’t a more celebrated fact. —?
talking about Rosie The Riveter, fun fact: while the We Can Do It picture has become the most-well known depiction of her in modern times, it wasn’t really a famous image when it was made—in fact, it wasn’t even intended to be her
the most famous depiction of Rosie The Riveter during WWII was probably Norman Rockwell’s painting