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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (827)

July 31, 2026 10 Comments

Blind taste test. || Lateral motion surplus. || Suboptimal scenario. || More magic cardboard. Previously. (h/t, Stephanie) || Adhesion detected. || The H-Man, 1958. Is there nothing atomic radiation can’t do? | Seeing, doing fingermath. (h/t, Tacky Raccoons) || Note to self. || The strange, grim tale of Britain’s “Hannibal the Cannibal.” (h/t, Neatorama) || Another day at the office. || Roadside ladies. || At last, cheating sneakers. || A critique of Nolan’s The Odyssey. Includes the words “boringly modern.” || Does yours do this? And should you be tempted. || Some punching required. || The progressive retail experience, parts 748, 749 and 750. || “First of all, those are not my pronouns.” || Complications multiply. || Sweaty pleasures. || On Mancini. || Not Marmite. || Things foreseen, and unforeseen.

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Written by: David
Reheated

Reheated (133)

July 29, 2026 99 Comments

Because some things bear repeating, some items from the archives:

It’s A Laugh-A-Minute Lifestyle.

In which we ponder polyamory and supposedly “non-hierarchical” relationships.

And then there was the time the Guardian’s lifestyle section brought us assurances of the “really positive energy” of polyamory, despite an unfolding catalogue of unhappy complications, displays of selfishness and insecurity, and despite recurring use of the words jealousy, resentment and anger.

And we mustn’t forget the tale, via New York magazine, of the Brooklynite comedian and podcaster named Billy, his girlfriend Megan, and his girlfriend Megan’s other boyfriend Kyle. An exhaustingly self-consciousness three-way entanglement resulting in a series of grimly farcical situations that were framed, rather coyly, as “relationship difficulties.”

The above, I should add, was one of several attempts by New York magazine to portray unfaithfulness and cuckoldry, and the consequent anxieties, as the very zenith of a progressive lifestyle.

As when a betrayed husband, Michael Sonmore, boasted, unconvincingly, that he “finally became a feminist” thanks to his wife’s nocturnal sexual adventures with a chap named Paulo. A wife who was “embracing herself” and becoming empowered, we were told, while her children, aged six and three, wondered where their Mommy was.

Well, Soil Is Sort Of Brown.

Gardening is all about the “crisis in white identity,” says sociology lecturer.

When not hearing racism in discussions of soil acidity – and seeing it in Scandinavian furniture, which is “all about race” – Dr Pitcher writes about “how the meanings of race are made and remade in acts of creative consumption.” And, obviously, “the relationship between race and neoliberal capitalism.” He is, in fact, “setting out a framework for thinking about race in the twenty-first century.”

Given the Guardian’s intense gravitational pull on certain kinds of stupid, it was perhaps inevitable that Dr Pitcher would find a welcome there. Now it turns out that squirrels are yet another proxy for “our” unspoken racial sentiment.

Our esteemed intellectual, who divines hidden racism by means of his third eye, is hurt by the avalanche of mockery aimed at his earlier pronouncements, claiming his words have been misconstrued, while also claiming that same derision proves him right, and while repeating the very claims that resulted in laughter.

He does, however, concede that “the uprooting of… Japanese knotweed is… not necessarily motivated by racist intent.”

Wherever Possible, Avoid Mad People.

Science fiction events, Mexican snacks, and the algebra of umbrage.

And so, once again, students are being encouraged to cultivate a kind of pretentious racial paranoia, in which almost any innocuous thing can, via mental convolution, be associated with some pretext for grievance, however dishonest and opportunistic.

Once some mental association has been discovered or contrived, everyone must act as if the innocuous object or action were in reality malicious and/or wounding, whatever the actual intention and regardless of how absurd and/or dishonest the claim of grievance is. Because whatever bizarre association of things is in the accuser’s head is assumed to be in everyone else’s head too.

Dr Golz and her peers are in effect saying to students, “You should want to be the guy who bitches about the rather unobvious racist subtext of party snacks. And if you do choose to behave that way, we’ll reward you and flatter you and make you feel important, while making other people jump through clown hoops to appease the feelings you pretend to have.”

And the more implausible and contrived the claim of victimhood is, the more status points accrue, on account of the complainant’s heightened sensitivity and supposed mental prowess. One has fathomed an injustice mere mortals cannot see. And bewildered onlookers are expected to pretend that this is a high and noble function of an academic institution.

For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Written by: David
Anthropology Art

A Lot Of Art Was Swinging About

July 28, 2026 51 Comments

I know, I know. I’ve been starving you of culture and refinement.

Allow me to correct that scandalous oversight:

The Western Europe you were talking about? 🫪😁

Two million euros spent on a dance performance by naked black people. “The Belgian government spent two million euros on an event aimed at protesting the era of colonization.” pic.twitter.com/lBXQ0Y4m1B

— Rusich 🇷🇺🇸🇪🇳🇴 (@Rusich7777) July 27, 2026

“I like it very much,” says one lady in the audience.

I knew you’d be intrigued.

The piece in question – by Davi Pontes and Wallace Ferreira, titled Repertório N.3, and performed during Ostend’s publicly funded Dansand! festival in 2025 – is, as I’m sure you spotted, a triumph of the political and profound.

Not only is the liveliness above “challenging and resisting the violence and oppression that black bodies face,” it’s a “brave elaboration of a queer black (self)-defense against physical and discursive violence,” and a “piece of queer Black Brazilian anti-colonial resistance.”

But you knew that, of course.

More specifically,

Confrontation is a crucial part of this performance. The two dancers enter nude, and dare the audience, sitting on chairs decked out in a rectangle around the white rubber mat, to acknowledge their existence.

And then the aesthetic stuff really kicks in.

Throughout the performance, the artists work with a minimalistic movement vocabulary, with simple movements such as mimicking swinging a lasso, a feminine roll of the wrists or shading of the eyes, and reclining on a rolling table in a pose reminiscent of Manet’s Olympia while being dragged around the stage by randomly chosen spectators.

And what’s more,

the performers create half a heart with their hand and invite members of the audience to add the other half with their hands.

It’s all deeply emotional. Very moving.

The performers seek out the gazes of the spectators, and test their boundaries. As the performance moves on, the confrontational intimacy of the performers increases. They move towards the public, charge ahead, bend down on all fours, and stand on their heads, exposing their genitals just mere feet away from the audience.

Reminds me of a club I was dragged to back in the Nineties.

Armed with a deep and radical knowledge of “postcolonial, gender and race studies,” and via the medium of nude side-shuffling, the performers are “finding new ways to represent the experiences of minorities.” Should any readers endowed with brownness care to elaborate on this point, preferably while dressed, by all means do.

For those of you craving more, highlights of another performance, from the ImPulsTanz Festival 2024, can be found here. Given the, um, nature of the piece, I’ve had to choose a screengrab with some care.

No, don’t thank me. All part of the service.

Update, via the comments:

As so often, questions are raised not by the mediocrities and grifters doing the, um, performing, but rather by the audience. The people who turn up and watch, as if they were beholding something of enormous importance, a feat of “anti-colonial resistance.”

As if “the experience of minorities” were somehow being epitomised – and defended against “discursive violence” – by two tiresome queens stomping about in the nude.

Daniel Ream quips,

This is literally just Dancing Bear videos.

While Dicentra adds,

Never underestimate the power of White Guilt to move some people.

The performance and its rather strained justifications do seem tailored to the kind of racial neuroticism favoured by progressives. Their hang-ups and affectations. An apparently inexhaustible resource to be exploited.

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Written by: David
Anthropology Free-For-All Politics

New Ideological Hemlines Announced

July 27, 2026 48 Comments

Please update your files and lifestyles accordingly:

Elite opinions change fashion faster than elite wardrobes.

When you express a luxury belief, you are communicating your level of education, your income, and your sociopolitical sympathies. It is an expression of what the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu called cultural capital.

You… pic.twitter.com/1UgebJRJT1

— Rob Henderson (@robkhenderson) July 23, 2026

Mr Rob Henderson, speaking above and in this longer interview, has been mentioned here before.

The role of status-seeking in political opinionating, whereby a person’s professed beliefs function as a kind of social jewellery, the latest must-have, has cropped up here quite frequently over the years. Along with the inadvertent social gaffes that can arise if you’re not particularly interested in whether your views are perceived as suitably modish and high-status:

There was, needless to say, lots of face-pulling. As if I’d just loudly farted…

Presumably, because there’s no social status to be had in acknowledging the realities of the matter, only in being seen to mouth support for a fashionable cause. Even when the particulars of that cause, its actual implications, remain utterly mysterious and of no discernible interest.

Oh, and this came to mind – on the unhappy siting of adverts – lots of adverts – for assisted suicide:

Very on-brand, I’d say. Almost too on-the-nose. I mean, if London’s buses and tube network were suddenly to be plastered with huge posters saying END IT ALL NOW, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO, it wouldn’t be entirely inexplicable, or entirely dissonant with the customer experience.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (826)

July 24, 2026 157 Comments

Modern problems. || They’re behind you. || Do you want to buy a belt? || King of the combover. || Life in a one-loo village, 1970. || An archive of tangible media, from magnets and grooves to coatings and pins. (h/t, Things) || An archive of punch cards. || An archive of vintage cycling publications. || Not in fact harmless, it turns out. || Just call him Daddy. || I’m sure more drag-themed programming will fix that in no time. || Nuts. || Got milk? || Gentlemen callers. || Incoming. || Help incoming. || Answers on a postcard, please. || A three-way interspecies negotiation. || The progressive retail experience, parts 745, 746 and 747. || The thrill of physics. || At last, drag-queen rugby. || A situation is reported. || Diversity has occurred. || At those elegant snuff parties, your nostrils will be revitalised.

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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.