I Can Feel The Art Improving Me
Yes, it’s time for an open thread. Feel free to share links and bicker.
As an enriching cultural bonus, here are some Estonian art gallery scenes, in which a full-figured feminist protests against the “violence” of the art on offer – while naked, obviously – during a visit by schoolchildren. The artist being denounced is Marko Mäetamm, whose offerings to the world are numerous and can be savoured here. The feminist lady taking umbrage, Mare Tralla, also makes bad art.
The boy in the hat, fourth from the right, rather captures the moment, I think.
Via Orwell & Goode.
Unearned power is a helluva drug.
Apparently so, but let’s face it, the Gigantors already have their serving platters and entrenching tools to eat with, and the anorexics are not exactly casual plate shoppers, so getting wrapped around the axle as an alleged champion on behalf of people who will likely never see an obscure plate among other plates in a store that has a small footprint in all but a couple of states belies a life almost completely bereft of real meaning or purpose.
Unearned power is a helluva drug.
There’s a lot to be said for stoicism, self-possession and not wishing to gratuitously impose on others. Say, by attempting to make other people responsible for one’s own insecurities and neuroses. Even if we set aside the political aspect, there’s the simple issue of politeness.
there’s the simple issue of politeness
Which reminds me: I’ve been ruminating on exactly when we lost the plot in this – among the dumbest of all possible – timeline. I think it was when we allowed the term “political correctness” to enter the lexicon. Most people ignored the chillingly Orwellian nature of the phrase and interpreted it as “being polite”, or “manners”, despite already having the English words “polite” and “manners” in use. In addition, we in the Sane-o-sphere mocked the phrase, often using it ironically, but in doing so allowed it’s continued existence and reinforced it’s connotation as “left wing manners”, instead of focusing on how authoritarian it is to insist that manners and politeness – which fundamentally mean free speech – be a political matter at all.
Which is why we should stop calling leftwing authoritarian bigots “Social Justice Warriors” – it gives them too much credit, and is a worthy name marketing-wise. Why give them a label that will appeal to mush-minded youngfolk who simply don’t see a cause worth being a warrior for, so seek whichever is available?
Sam: “fascist bullies” and “Stalinist thugs” work for me. Also “totalitarian power-mad freaks.”
Which is why we should stop calling leftwing authoritarian bigots “Social Justice Warriors”
Well, I don’t know about the rest of the rabble hereabouts, but whenever I see that phrase or it’s acronym, I always pronounce it “Social Justice Weenies”. FWIW.
And don’t you wonder why in Estonia they say
Hey you, big fat pig, you fat pig, you fat pig
– Morrissey, quite out of context
Sam —
Which is why we should stop calling leftwing authoritarian bigots “Social Justice Warriors”
That’s why I typically call them — contra the Alt-Right — the Ctrl-Left. Because total control of anything and everything is all they’re after.
And regarding those dishes, I think they should be changed, in solidarity with the “body positivity (bowel) movement,” to (from inner circle to outer):
“Nowhere near enough”
“You know you want some more”
“Healthy at any size!”
“Thank God for toxic masculinity …”
A similar thing happened to my mum a couple of years ago. (Very low speed incident; nobody hurt. In fact, it was so low-speed, we’re still not entirely sure how it happened at all.) There were four people in the car, and the folk who rallied round to help managed to get two of them out before any of the emergency services even arrived.
“Be sure to scroll through the whole thing to see Macy’s grovel”
One f#$*in’ Tweet, and they pull an entire product line, destroying who knows how much wealth. I used to think it was mad that the Orwellian British organization, the “Advertising Standards Authority”, could ban a commercial on 300 complaints, but this is a whole new level of insanity.
“Most idiocy and spite, in history as today, seem to originate from people simply wanting something for nothing, but without the strength of a brute or the honesty of a thief.”
Never a truer word.
“I think it was when we allowed the term “political correctness” to enter the lexicon.”
Yes. Politics is a matter of opinion. So, “correct” on whose terms? It never seems to be Burke’s or Hayek’s.
“Most people ignored the chillingly Orwellian nature of the phrase and interpreted it as “being polite”, or “manners”,”
I’ve always said it (or, at least, its western usage) is basically a very clever, but despicable, hack on people’s natural tendency to politeness. It’s essentially the same phenomenon as “no-platforming”: putting things for which the Left has no viable argument safely beyond argument.
Dear God. To think I wasted three years going to art college, listening to people who could actually paint while trying to improve my own technique and application when I could have just churned some mindless, amateurish old shit and been famous for not having any talent at all.
Also, I did not take my clothes off in public (though if Susan and her twin sister Anne wanted to take theirs off in front of me at college, I really wouldn’t have minded. More on this: I fancied Anne more even though they were supposedly identical. How does that work?)
“I think it was when we allowed the term “political correctness” to enter the lexicon.”
The first I recall hearing that term was late 70’s or early 80’s to indicate that someone’s positions fit the (leftist) narrative. I see where wiki (currently 😉 ) states this:
Which itself looks a bit nuanced for today’s narrative. My recollection was that it was a way of indicating (to leftists themselves in a self-flattering way) that there was a broad range of acceptable opinion so long as it wasn’t anything (at the time) pro-Reagan or similar. The latter of course being politically incorrect. But at that time it would have been gauche to come out and explicitly say so. Hence, “correct”. No satire was intended that I recall. Ran in somewhat similar circles as the term “preppy”. And then later “yuppie” was derived from the right to disparage the left in similar political sniping. Just my somewhat vague recollection.
WTP: I used to know a lot of leftists, Maoists even, back in the 70’s and 80’s. They used the term “politically incorrect” without any apparent irony or sarcasm. They did, on the other hand, display a great deal of hostility toward deviation from acceptable leftist dogma.
They used the term “politically incorrect” without any apparent irony or sarcasm.
Exactly. But try communicating that on Wikipedia. It’s not so much that these PC monitors buzz around Wiki policing so much of what is said that bothers me so much as the way many, many people take what is written there without so much as a grain of salt.
OT, but this kinda is a thread for it, once or twice a year or two I get the urge to update a Wiki topic with something that is either politically incorrect/uncomfortable (one being that Pol Pot did attend the French engineering school EFREI…on the EFREI page) or just for kicks/joke purposely invented/made up. I never pick a highly sensitive topic. Once it was just an entry about large numbers…I tried to get the number 10^80 somewhat named after myself…eh, it was (and still is) available. Interesting how fast some of these innocuous things get pounced upon.
“What men call ‘logic’ is really just a lack of empathy”
https://twitter.com/OrwellNGoode/status/1154113622689353732
I can’t help wondering how much the diversity would enliven these performances.
While we’re not speaking of the elephant in the room:
https://www.france24.com/en/20190724-topless-sunbathing-going-out-fashion-france-survey
Because total control of anything and everything is all they’re after.
There is one thing they do have no wish to control: themselves.
…wanting something for nothing, but without the strength of a brute or the honesty of a thief.
See: two of the two great bearded prophets whose screeds demand the disassembly of Western civilization’s structures.
George Carlin called Political Correctness “fascism disguised as manners”.
I imagine those French women are more concerned about being attacked than they are about social media.
I imagine those French women are more concerned about being attacked than they are about social media.
Take this with a grain of salt (my memory is unclear) but I seem to recall reading even in the 80’s or 90’s of a significant decline in the percentage of French women who would go topless or nude at a beach. So maybe there are more factors than the arrival of so many Vibrantly Diverse Immigrants.
Mostly people seem bored or amused in a bored kind of way. At least the original artist has craft on his side; the performance artist only has shock value. And when all those boundaries have already been transgressed by others long ago…. what does she really have?
Here’s the scandal”>https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/gay-melbourne-artist-accused-of-homophobia-as-gallery-removes-collage-20190724-p52a6z.html?fbclid=IwAR05eA9Ipcg5T1VcE6CiwBQzsqQd4sBicBNRqcRZfoR6bdF7nthdlvJqxJ4>scandal du jour for Australian arts writers (seems we had to outsource it to the UK anyway.)
“North Wales Police diversity officer Constable Rob Miller said a number of concerns had been recorded in regards to a “hate-related incident” and that a potential criminal offence was being investigated.
“Clearly the gallery has to balance the right of the artist to freedom of expression against the rights of people not to be offended, and the decision on whether or not to continue display the work is theirs,” Constable Miller said.”
(Fingers crossed that the hyperlink mojo works this time).
Noooooooooooooo!
Bitte klicken die Folgenden auf. Ich muss zurück in der Hyperlink-Schule gehen. Entschuldigen.
https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/art-and-design/gay-melbourne-artist-accused-of-homophobia-as-gallery-removes-collage-20190724-p52a6z.html
Hi TimT,
I don’t speak German, what’s that say?
My dad was stationed in Germany at the end of WW II. He learned how to order beer. 😄🍺
While we’re not speaking of the elephant in the room:
If you can read French, the pop sociologist Jean Claude Kaufmann has a fascinating book where he interviews topless sunbathers (not while they’re topless) about their motivations and the social cues that determine whether the straps go down or up at a given place and time. One of the factors is the kind of male gaze that’s prevalent – if it feels wrong or unsafe, the tops go back on. So topless sunbathing by ancestral Frenchwomen is a thing because ancestral Frenchmen are capable of being insouciant or blasé or désinvolte about it.
So if the population of France is replaced by people from cultures with different attitudes about how women comport themselves in public and different moral reinforcement for men who enforce social norms on women, that’s naturally going to have an affect on topless sunbathing. So ctrl-F immig nothing, ctrl-F demogr nothing, ctrl-F isla aha … no, they’re trying to merge Brigitte Bardot and burkinis under the heading of contentious women’s beach attire.
I get the impression that the French are becoming less sophisticated about sex, more influenced by the cant of globalist Anglophone media. I was watching a vloggeur the other day complaining about oppressive beauty standards, saying that everyone was beautiful inside, etc, and it struck me that I never used to hear French people being such dullards and prigs on that subject. French culture used to be all about giving beauty its full due, and being realistic about sexual power and how far it can take somebody. And with their sensibility to beauty so fine-tuned, the French could accommodate diverse looks and jolie laides. But that lovely culture is pounded into nothingness by the doctrine that everyone deserves a prize for being pretty.
Hi Pogonip, it’s doggerel more or less, but obviously influenced by the fact I was in German class last night. “Please click on the following. I must go back to Hyperlink school.” Though “aufklicken” is an invented verb (“anklicken” would have worked.)
Danke schoen. TimT.
Nature is one mean bitch, don’t disrespect her boundaries.
(I blame the parents)
A footnote to the transgender-paedophile-scrotum-waxing saga, in which all becomes clear.
“Experts on women’s issues.”
Related.
Boris Johnson appoints ethnic minority candidates to various important positions in his cabinet. And, naturally, Guardian contributors are unhappy about it. They’re the wrong sort of ethnic minorities, apparently:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jul/25/johnson-diverse-cabinet-tory-racism-ethnic-minority-ministers
naturally, Guardian contributors are unhappy about it. They’re the wrong sort of ethnic minorities, apparently
I see that the Guardian’s columnist, Kehinde Andrews, begins his article with an attempt at deception. Unless, of course, Dr Andrews, a “professor of black studies at Birmingham City University,” simply didn’t bother to read the so-called “piccannies” piece, from which he triumphantly quotes three words, and which was clearly intended as a satire of the views of Tony Blair. Mr Blair being depicted as the “big white chief,” at least in his own imaginings.
[ Added: ]
God knows, Boris Johnson isn’t the easiest chap to defend, but this is thin gruel. And yet this, along with Johnson daring to suggest that the niqab is slightly bizarre – which it is – is deemed damning and sufficient proof of racism. Presumably, in order to avoid being called a racist by Dr Andrews, you must pretend that you don’t find anything strange or unappealing about Islam, or its growing presence on these islands.
(I blame the parents)
You gotta love the newsreaders – “Throwing that little girl, [Shocked and dismayed voice] a nine year old, into the air…” – as if the bison deliberately singled her out because of that. Idiots.
The new ethnic minority ministers don’t represent real progress – they are among the most hard-right figures in the party…But do not be fooled: a cabinet packed with ministers with brown skin wearing Tory masks represents the opposite of racial progress.
IOW, all true POCs must be hard leftists. SSDD with these clowns.
it’s doggerel more or less
“Wenn ist das Nunstruck git und Slotermeyer? Ja! .. Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput!”
In other news, hereabouts it’s 34°C (93.2°F). As you can imagine, I’m thrilled about that.
From the Guardian article about Boris’s cabinet:
The new ethnic minority ministers don’t represent real progress – they are among the most hard-right figures in the party
That’s right folks, brown people are not allowed to be right wing. Guardian-approved views only.
无稽之谈树浇灌错误，并从其分支摇摆的灾难南瓜。
Hereabouts, it’s been 34 C for 30 days, and will remain so for another 90. We call it “summer”.
And yes, the reason the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years is that it took that long to install all 400000000 air conditioners in anticipation of their arrival. If you want prompt service, don’t choose the levant.
Hereabouts, it’s been 34 C for 30 days, and will remain so for another 90. We call it “summer”.
My hair is wilting. This simply will not do.
(I blame the parents)
Having two young ones of my own I often wonder what age they must become before I’m no longer obligated to grab them while fleeing charging wildlife.
Seems 9 is the rule of thumb.
Caption for boy with hat:
If that’s what a ‘real woman’ looks like then fetch me a gallon of eye bleach and a rainbow flag, I’m done.
Hi WTP,
I also don’t speak Chinese. Used to speak and read a little Japanese but have forgotten it. What’s that say?
More on this: I fancied Anne more even though they were supposedly identical. How does that work?
Hi Watcher,
I’ve had little/no success in trying to explain to young ladies the difference between ‘pretty’ and ‘appealing’. Perhaps Anne had a slightly better sense of humour than Susan. Perhaps Susan had a very slight case of BRF. Who knows?
Fortunately, I am past the age when I need to have these conversations.
你知道你可以弄清楚这些事情，如果你只是戳在互联网上。
….
Nonsense tree watering bugs and swinging disaster pumpkins from its branches.
Though it’s supposed to say:
The tree of nonsense is watered with error, and from its branches swing the pumpkins of disaster.
Per previous discussions on toxic masculinity: my parents’ home took a glancing blow from a tornado on Friday evening. House is in pretty good shape, but many trees are down, along with electrical service.
Unbelievable amounts of toxic masculinity on display in the cleanup and recovery efforts. I’m not sure which sight is more devastating, honestly…
“They’re the wrong sort of ethnic minorities, apparently”
Précis: “Don’t be fooled by Johnson’s ‘diverse’ cabinet; be fooled by the Guardian’s bullshit instead. Who’re you gonna believe, me or your own lyin’ eyes?”
All this smearing and negativity in the media about Boris has one very simple explanation: they’re scared. Not of “racism” or “sexism” or any of the other Menckenian hobgoblins they’ve spent the last few decades frightening the children with, but of being found out. Like this.
Boris isn’t Trump, but the effect he’s already having on our political landscape is similar. It’s going to be a wild ride.
“The Pumpkins Of Disaster “🎃 would be a good name for a band.
“‘ The Pumpkins Of Disaster’ would be a good name for a band.”
Lead singer calling himself the Platypus of Doom.
SSDD with these clowns.
I know what you meant, Farnsworth, but have you also considered that the alternate meaning of that acronym – single-sided, double-density – works even better?
The rhetorical curbstomping of the Labour front bench was refreshing. I hope that we will be treated to much more.
I also hope he will take after Trump and deliver a boot to the nads of the MSM, many many times.
As a side note I was rather disappointed to see JRM on the front bench insofar as I presume that he will have less opportunity to speak.
One giant leap for mankind
Lovely weather here today, temp just skimming below 80 degrees, low humidity, the merest ruffle of a breeze. There’s a haze on the sky that you can’t see but only deduce its presence from its effect of de-intensifying the blue.
About the kid tossed by a bison: if she landed as deftly as she flew through the air, she probably came out all right. Here’s hoping.
When I was younger than her age, I was out one day with my mother and brother, a summer day hotter than this. Mom had someone to visit, and she dragged us kids along, “exploring,” as she called it, an unfamiliar part of the city. We had no car, but the buses went everywhere, and where they didn’t go we walked.
So we were walking and slowly broiling, and breathing in almost as much pavement-dust as air, but it was still all right, because you always come to a drugstore or corner-store: someplace anyhow where you can get some refreshment. There was nothing like that visible up ahead, but sometimes it happened that these places didn’t announce themselves until you were right on top of them. On we went.
Until we got to the place that had been as far as we could see, and now as far as we could see there was still nothing. No one wanted to say it but discouragement was creeping in. There was no shade but at least here was a railing to sit on while Mom rummaged through her purse to see if she had at least one piece of Dentyne to split three ways.
The railing was a starkly functional style of work found all over town, just a length of steel pipe bolted at one end to a concrete wall and supported at intervals by uprights of the same pipe. This one faced the sidewalk, and behind it was the well of a cellar-level utility yard. It was clean down there, I’ll give it that. No ornament, not a blade of grass, not even a weed growing from a crack: just concrete, swept and bare — oh, and a slab-like door, shut, and it looked shut tight.
For as long as this adventure had been going on (and it was hard to remember a time before) we had been passing these industrial buildings or institutional buildings with their blank faces. Or parking lots with high fences all around, or private buildings with no people stirring. The occasional car or truck drove by, but not so many that you’d call it “traffic.” On foot there was only us.
So we sat on our railing like birds on a wire. Mom at one end looking through her purse, me on the other end watching the nothing happen. My brother, a year older, sat in the middle, and I guess he was watching the nothing too. Not to imply we were unsociable, but none of us had anything to say just then.
And then something happened. I tipped over backwards. I don’t know how — and it came without warning — but I was falling backwards over the mouth of a pit some ten or twelve feet deep with a concrete floor at the bottom.
This could have ended badly for me. And I can hardly take credit for it not ending badly. What “I” did wasn’t done by any conscious part of me. My legs, bent at the knee, grasped the pipe just loosely enough to let me swing freely, and my weight shifted exactly so as to make a complete circuit in one swing. It was not a sequence, it was all a long indivisible moment. When I reached the upright sitting position from which I had started, my hands, heels back, smoothly found the pipe and braced there, without excess of tension.
Oh, perhaps I did then adjust my regained sitting posture slightly more forward than formerly. But no anxiety.
It’s not only that I don’t remember being anxious: I do remember noticing at the time that I wasn’t anxious. Because it was over. Like Lee Marvin in “Point Blank”: “Weren’t you scared?” “Yeah.” “…You don’t look scared.” “How long d’you want me to stay scared?”
My mother, intent on her inventory, hadn’t noticed a thing. My brother caught the last bit of it out of the corner of his eye: he cast me a what-are-you-up-to look. I weighed a lot of answers, none of them good enough, so I let it pass.
Want to hear some music? I could listen to these guys all day.