Friday Ephemera
Ring of Fire. || In post-civilisation San Francisco, the relocation of handbags by fashion enthusiasts. (h/t, Darleen) || For the woman who has everything. (h/t, Things) || Also, layers of London. || Another accident in the lab. || Cats in microgravity. || Attention, amorous ladies. || “How dare you not desire me?” said the green-haired bedlamite. || “I kind of view myself as a doll.” || At last, paper drill bits. || Parental pushback. || Meanwhile, in the Independent. || Meanwhile, in the Guardian. || Hush now, our betters are speaking. || Something error happen. || Yes, there will be a test. || Dull truth. || “Does anything radioactive actually glow bright green?” || And finally, persuasively, some aggressive rattling.
Midnight’s Edge ponders Black Widow and the ongoing souring of the Marvel brand.
Well, delightful as it is to be lectured on the horrifyingly stunting sexism of the film industry by a successful, popular mega-multi-millionaire Hollywood starlet – it’s not really selling me on the movie.
These people who’s extravagantly well-paid job is to look pretty on camera and convincingly read things written by other people really do like to whinge don’t they?
I fear “Libs of Tik Tok” gives lunatics the platform and attention they crave, and will only incentivize further lunacy.
On a related note, has anyone noticed a trend of people’s IRL mannerisms becoming more dramatic – as if they are being filmed and speaking to an audience? The stand-up comic delivery and over-the-top reaction to the most mundane things being examples. Maybe it’s just me.
Also, are large numbers of heterosexual women looking for “the perfect housewife,” albeit a bearded one?
If social media and the clown quarter are anything to go by, yes, there are. However, my guess is the women who would profess to want such a husband would also take to various media outlets and complain loudly and longly about him soon after acquiring said bearded housewife.
Reading that reminded me of two articles recently fisked here, both by women who married a guy like that. There was one woman who was complaining about her husband who did all the housework and took care of the kids and yet she was still unhappy and I forget why – oh because he got to leave the house and go to work and she had to stay home. Then there was the other woman whose husband cleaned the bathrooms for her for her birthday and also gave her a necklace but she didn’t want the necklace and wanted him to hire a maid to do the bathrooms, plus he forgot to put the wrapping paper back in the closet, and…
Personally I think those types deserve each other. I think the perfect leftist feminist ally men are just saying that stuff to get laid by the perfect leftist feminist women and nobody ends up happy.
“…rooted in fundamental transphobia….”
Not so. I don’t date baritone women.
Well, delightful as it is to be lectured on the horrifyingly stunting sexism of the film industry by a successful, popular mega-multi-millionaire Hollywood starlet – it’s not really selling me on the movie.
No, indeed. Listening to one of the richest women in the industry complaining about the very qualities that resulted in her current wealth and status – looking good in a catsuit while remembering lines – is a bit much. Poor lamb. Presumably, the $165 million or so estimated worth will be some small consolation.
And as other, much less gallant, commentators have noted, Ms Johansson is approaching the big four-oh. At which point relying on attractiveness, as opposed to some hitherto undetected Shakespearean prowess, can be difficult to sustain. Which I’m sure is purely coincidental and just happens to fit perfectly the standard template for such complaints.
what’s interesting are some of the excuses in newspaper comment sections.
Typical. They are IMO making worthy criticisms of our culture. Why is women’s fashion so wasteful and harmful (ie lab animals for makeup), for instance? But ultimately these critiques are of a completely different species from “that’s not your sh!t, stop stealing”, and therefore not made sincerely and are forgotten immediately after the feral culture apologia is complete.
“We are enraptured by kairos time, the time that is measured in moments rather than in seconds, minutes, or hours. In kairos time, it’s time to take a seat and settle into the sunset with some light sweet snacks….”
That’s not even remotely what that means. Shame, since it’s quite a useful concept, but then again it’s characteristic of this sort to twist an idea of finding the perfect moment for decisive action into an excuse for languor.
reminded me of two articles recently fisked here,
Oh yes. There was Ms Erin Hendriksen, who got terribly upset over her husband’s efficiency with laundry, and his scandalous “vacations,” by which she means him going to work every day to keep a roof over their heads.
And the even more precious Ms Gemma Hartley, a feminist and poet, who bemoaned the “emotional labour” and “exhausting” chore of hiring someone else to clean her multiple bathrooms.
That’s not even remotely what that means.
So many of these people are woke Ottos: “Aristotle was not Belgian! The central message of Buddhism is not “Every man for himself!” And the London Underground is not a political movement!”
One of the far more bitter lessons that I have learned is that most people in general almost never respond honestly to evidence that refutes the Narrative.
It is indeed a widespread human failing, but leftists seem to be the worst. Note, for instance, how Charles Murray modified his views on the heritability of intelligence in response to accumulating research results while so many of his opponents on the left did not.
the widespread failure of these people to breed will sort us out in the longer term.
The EBT ensures … breeding. Lots of it.
One of the far more bitter lessons that I have learned is that most people in general almost never respond honestly to evidence that refutes the Narrative.
Or as ZUBY learned during the pandemic:
“8/ Once they have made up their mind, most people would rather to commit to being wrong, than admit they were wrong.”
And
“20/ It’s easier to fool a person than to convince them that they have been fooled.”
it’s not really selling me on the movie.
In other news.
Cats in Microgravity — should I see it on Broadway or wait for the movie?
“Once they have made up their mind, most people would rather to commit to being wrong, than admit they were wrong.”
I have sometimes wondered, when reading comment threads, if certain behaviors contribute to that inclination: If one starts off with an assertion stated in absolutist and polarizing terms, it is emotionally far harder to admit error. On the other hand, those who lead with such statements may well already be absolutely unwilling to modify their positions.
Cats in Microgravity — should I see it on Broadway or wait for the movie?
Better see it on Broadway: If you wait for the movie it will be done by Amazon and will include much nudity and sex.
Also, are large numbers of heterosexual women looking for “the perfect housewife,” albeit a bearded one?
He might as well be advertising his services as a cleaner, a special type of cleaner who instead of buzzing off after his work is done, mooches around hoping for duty/pity sex.
Better
see it on Broadway: If youwait for the movie it willbe done by Amazon and willinclude much nudity and sex.FTFY!
Better wait for the movie it will include much nudity and sex. FTFY!
[ opens Karl’s file. Adds confirmed deviant. ]
This cannot be authentic. There is no eldritch tentacle rising out of the mug.
[ leans over, corrects entry to “proud deviant” ]
“proud deviant”
[ Eddie Izzard voice ] “Pride? But do you have a flag?”
Arkham Library:
However I must caution against too much googling for tentacles. It gets pretty weird pretty quickly…
[ leans over, corrects entry to “proud deviant” ]
[ wipes down notebook with sanitizer ]
The Old Ones are not to be mocked or taken lightly.
Cats in microgravity.
That’s actually an old method of instrument flying known as the cat-and-duck method. You put a cat on the cockpit floor because cats always land on their feet, so you can just look at the cat to tell which way is up. And if your destination airport is fogged-in, throw the duck out the window. As no duck will fly in such conditions, you can follow the duck down to the ground.
And hey – at least they weren’t cat-juggling! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bGVT4-1DBU
I had many warm and delightful conversations over the years with a world famous writer of immense intelligence and learning.
A very drunk David Brin once literally cried on my shoulder about how badly Kevin Costner screwed up The Postman.
That’s not really the same thing, but it beats my “I once nearly ran over Ben Kingsley” story.
I had the honour of introducing Ben Kingsley to winter in Montana.
I shipped him in to my log cabin, carefully insulated from the freezing cold, but when I opened the cabin door he made a break for it, ran outside, then changed his mind pretty much in mid-leap and ended up clinging desperately to the screen door. I had to prise his little claws free to get him back inside.
Oh sorry, did I mention he was my cat? Him and his sister Tiramisu. She got eaten by a bear though.
Bloody Montana.
googling for tentacles . . . wait for it . . . you know it’s coming . . . band name
A very drunk David Brin once literally cried on my shoulder about how badly Kevin Costner screwed up The Postman.
For a long time, I hoped Hollywood would do a big-budget adaptation of his Uplift novels. Alas, older, more cynical me thinks there’s 99 chances in 100 that they’d royally cock it up.
My only run-in with Brin was a brief exchange in the comments section of a blog some years ago. I said I enjoyed his work and then respectfully explained why I disagreed with something he had posted. He responded with a frothing-at-the-mouth comment that compared me to a Nazi.
This is Ben Kingsley in training:
(He looked more like Ben Kingsley when he was small)
A very drunk David Brin once literally cried on my shoulder about how badly Kevin Costner screwed up The Postman.
I haven’t had many drinking sessions with writers, but I have heard about Brin’s unhappiness with what Hollywood did to that novel.
By the way, I was not name-dropping but merely noting how “even” the most highly accomplished people like to have a life outside their profession.
googling for tentacles . . . wait for it . . . you know it’s coming . . . band name
Eichenwald and the Ammonites.
My only run-in with Brin was a brief exchange in the comments section of a blog some years ago. I said I enjoyed his work and then respectfully explained why I disagreed with something he had posted. He responded with a frothing-at-the-mouth comment that compared me to a Nazi.
What was it you said? He did strike me as astoundingly arrogant, and I have heard various stories about him.
A very drunk David Brin once literally cried on my shoulder about how badly Kevin Costner screwed up The Postman.
In 2003 at Bay Hill, Tiger Woods nearly puked on my wife’s shoes. At least that’s the way we tell it.
What was it you said?
I don’t remember the content, unfortunately, just how shocked I was at the disproportionate vehemence of his response.
I don’t remember the content, unfortunately, just how shocked I was at the disproportionate vehemence of his response.
Well, he is one the left, but his particular personality must have a lot to do with this. Look on the bright side: He’s not Harlan Ellison which means you were not physically assaulted for your wrongthink.
A very drunk David Brin once literally cried on my shoulder
I sat beside Margaret Atwood on a plane to La Guardia once (and coincidentally back again several days later). She makes decent conversation despite being a leftist scold.
The hair, though, is as alarming IRL as it is in images.
I sat beside Margaret Atwood on a plane…
Lucky you. Did you chew your arm off to escape your seat?
“He might as well be advertising his services as a cleaner, a special type of cleaner who instead of buzzing off after his work is done, mooches around hoping for duty/pity sex.”
My wife tells me someone of this sort advertised in the local tabloid, offering to clean women’s houses for free. The catch was he would do it in the nude. At her office, there was an earnest discussion among the women if they were willing to let him, then shoo him out the door with a length of broomstick.
I sat beside Margaret Atwood on a plane
As an attendee to several Bouchercons (mystery convention), I have learned never to ask authors “how’s business?” They’re morbid about their profession and the publishing industry.
As an attendee to several Bouchercons (mystery convention), I have learned never to ask authors “how’s business?” They’re morbid about their profession and the publishing industry.
Few authors make a really good living, sad to say. I recall a writer saying, many years ago, that Heaven would be Heaven only if the writer would be free of the compulsion to write…or something sort of like that.
Few authors make a really good living, sad to say.
I hope that your tipjar fully covers your blogging costs, David.
Heaven would be heaven with fewer writers obsessed with telling the rest of us every glorious thought that passes through their heads in it. As if the rest of us have no sense/form of discretion. Well some of us anyway…ok, maybe ‘us’ isn’t the right word…well you get the general idea.
She makes decent conversation despite being a leftist scold.
My third year CanLit class was taught by Constance Beresford Howe (The Book of Eve, The Marriage Bed, etc.) and she brought Margaret Atwood in as a guest lecturer. Her book, Survival: A Thematic Guide to Canadian Literature, was essentially the syllabus for first year CanLit–pretty dry depressing stuff. She was cold, aloof and somewhat condescending. I’m not sure she really wanted to be there. Constance, on the other hand, was demure but a true delight.
Lucky you. Did you chew your arm off to escape your seat?
Sitting beside her on the southbound journey from YYZ was acceptable. The flight being only an hour or so in duration it was a tolerable way to pass the time and collect an anecdote.
Seeing her sitting in the departure lounge three days later was a shock to the system though and gave me a gloomy outlook for the journey home. Especially coming at the end of one of the most ribald and disreputable boys weekends of my life in Manhattan. Luckily the flight home was frighteningly turbulent and we didn’t talk much. If I had of been asked to relay some of my goings on of the previous 72 hours it would have put a lot more frizz in that mop.
I have learned never to ask authors “how’s business?” They’re morbid about their profession and the publishing industry.
LOL. That is precisely what I discussed with Atwood on the flight to New York. I guess in the days before !WOKENESS! all that pretentious lefties had to drone on about in polite company was themselves.
Eichenwald and the Ammonites.
A drink for this man, please, Landlord, Sir! On my tab!
[ leans over, corrects entry to “proud deviant” ]
I think this is for you, Karl.
And elsewhere on the Korean country&western circuit.
In post-civilisation San Francisco
I heard an excellent pronouncement on a podcast recently (I think it was Callum on Podcast of the Lotuseaters, but I can’t find it now).
It was to the effect that it’s extremely privileged to vote for certain policies but have the means to move away when feeling the inevitable results. And yet these persons will vote for those same policies at their new locale.
But even more privileged is white SF official Kate Chatfield, who has armed security paid for by taxes, saying “the ‘crime surge’ crowd shares the same ideology as The Birth of a Nation”. Still more privilege: she set her twitter account to private. https://twitter.com/michelletandler/status/1411943649231851522
I’ve enjoyed the Brin books I’ve read, in large part because he (unlike most leftista authors) keeps his asinine personal politics mostly out of them. His novels tend to be on the basic theme of ‘given the advent of X, what would human society look like?’ and the result is plausibly human, not some Roddenberryesque socialist eschaton.
That said, I’ve never read The Postman but the movie is just about the only Costner film I’ve managed to make it all the way through.