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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (737)

September 20, 2024 107 Comments

At last, a walking coffee table. And how to build your own. || Incoming. || Close enough, buddy. || Close enough 2. || 70s cop show. || Tongue action. || Nommy nommy nom. || Attention, peasants, I bring thee art. || Rob Henderson on wokeness, the media, and luxury beliefs. || Hey, it’s a job. || Hey, it’s a job 2. || A pressing question from 1981: Who are the New Romantics? || The progressive retail experience, parts 578, 579, 580, 581, and 582. || Paid $136,000. || Another professor struggles with logic and reality. || A project for the weekend. || Hot water. || Hey, you wanted it immersive. || It’s raining men. || This is one of these. || Fifth wheel for tight parking. || ‘Fess up, it was the first thing you noticed. || And finally, a tale of harvesting psychedelic frog secretions, parts 1 and 2 and 3.

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Written by: David
Free-For-All His Pretty Nails Pronouns Or Else

Dishonesty On Demand

September 18, 2024 124 Comments

Or, The Wig Is Doing A Lot Of Heavy Lifting.

In the clip below, Calgary trans activist Victoria Bucholtz, aka Karla Marx, has words – deep, manly words – with Jennifer Johnson, a conservative politician.

Ms Johnson had previously upset activists, and much of the Canadian media, by describing the classroom propagation of trans activist ideology – specifically, setting children on a path to mutilation and castration – as a blemish and contaminant, akin to “poop” in cookies.

I think it’s fair to say the exchange that follows is not a triumph of reconciliation. It may, however, prove instructive – indeed, telling – though possibly not in ways that Mr Bucholtz intended.

Trans activism in a nutshell.

An aggressive, bullying man attempts to intimidate a woman into submission, demanding that she say something she knows isn’t true.

And he’s loving every minute of it. pic.twitter.com/CY0Fa3Wp34

— Mia (@_CryMiaRiver) September 17, 2024

Readers will note how “listening to the community” is conceived by Mr Bucholtz as deference and prostration, and regurgitating things that are obviously untrue. If it sounds like a struggle session, hold that thought:

“Tell me right now that you believe… right now, right here, that I am a woman.”

Readers may likewise wish to ponder the chutzpah of a gaslighting bedlamite demanding “respect” while simultaneously demanding that everyone else surrender their probity and become dishonest and absurd, mouthing lies as and when instructed.

Ms Johnson had also expressed concern about the use by activists, in schools, of pornographic material. Concerns that much of the subsequent media coverage sneered at or dismissed as unfounded.

I’m assuming that Ms Johnson was referring to things like this.

Because, apparently, “vagina slime,” fellatio, and “strap-on hotness” are topics of urgent moral importance for middle-school children. Children who need to know about the joys of masturbating while driving.

But ssshh, don’t tell Mom and Dad.

Mr Bucholtz – “(She/Her)” – is an “LGBTQ+ facilitator,” an “activist,” and “currently teaches at Mount Royal University.” His areas of expertise include “the history of emotions.” When not demanding that people tell lies repeatedly and in public, he is “an avid mountaineer,” a drag queen, and a “dog mom.”

Mr Bucholtz’ educational chops can be witnessed here.

One more time:

“Tell me right now that you believe… right now, right here, that I am a woman.”

Because it’s a “basic foundational principle.”

Via Mia Hughes.

Update, via the comments, where Rafi asks, not unreasonably,

If he really thinks he’s a woman, how can he be a drag queen – a man pretending to be a woman?

Alas, I fear that if we pull at that thread, the whole sweater may come unravelled. I mean, if, as we’ve been told, quite emphatically, women can’t be transwomen, on account of being, you know, women, then surely only a man can be a transwoman. Which sounds like another way of saying, a transwoman can only be a man.

But hey, pile of yarn.

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

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Written by: David
Academia Those Poor Darling Paedophiles

An Interest In Children

September 16, 2024 77 Comments

And in unrepentant pervert news:

A Swedish academic who triggered severe public backlash after writing his PhD thesis about masturbating to fantasy child sexual abuse material… has now released a book on the topic. Karl Andersson, previously a PhD student at the University of Manchester in the Japanese studies department, announced the publication of his new book, Impossibly Cute Boys: The Healing Power of Shota Comics in Japan, in a recent YouTube video where he states that the text incorporates his “philosophy of boy worship.” 

That would be this chap here, mentioned previously. The chap for whom three months of masturbation constitutes “research,” the basis for a PhD. And given the not uncommon consequences of childhood molestation, Mr Andersson’s use of the words healing and worship may strike readers as somewhat perverse.

When this unobvious approach to scholarship – “an experimental method of masturbating” – first came to wider attention, four months after its submission, Mr Andersson’s peers and supervisors had apparently not noticed the particulars of his vigorous, hands-on investigations, or the legal and reputational implications of such pederastic probing.

Except, of course, for those who rushed to his defence, among them, the University of Manchester’s Professor Steven Fielding, who, in a now-deleted X post, invoked the universality of masturbation, before hailing the project as “socially useful,” albeit in ways left entirely mysterious.

A pattern of approval seemingly repeated:

In his new book, Andersson claims to have received only praise for his paper from his academic peers prior to its publication.

His own academic supervisor, Andersson claims, complimented the paper as “pretty damn good” and described it as his “best piece of writing.” Additionally, one reviewer for the academic publication Qualitative Research emphasised that the rationale behind using masturbation as a research method was “well justified,” and said of the shota-obsessed academic: “The author has conducted provocative research by use of a highly bold and innovative application of autoethnography. Best of all, the author has done this extremely well.”

According to Mr Andersson, other academic colleagues have hailed his “queer autoethnography” as “wonderfully written, reflective, analytical and intriguing,” and have described it as “very publishable.”

Readers will doubtless recall the dizzying rigour of Mr Andersson’s academic work, noted in the post linked above, in which we learned that his feverish wanking gave him “a more embodied understanding of the topic.”

As I said at the time,

As to the “embodied understanding” mentioned above, it remains unclear what exactly was achieved – beyond the obvious, I mean. Mr Andersson tells us that during three months of, er, research, and 30 notebook entries, his mind often wandered to thoughts of other gentlemen doing much the same thing with the same publications, including the copies he’d acquired second-hand. This is described as a “feeling of intimacy.” Dozing off afterwards is described as “self-care,” which is apparently important. And we’re informed that the Cellophane wrappers of his pornography collection “signalled luxury and investment in myself.” 

Clearly, the frontiers of human knowledge are being pushed back, heroically, selflessly, by our “visual anthropologist.”

The paper itself, now removed from the website of the journal Qualitative Research, is remarkable chiefly in terms of the author’s self-involvement and the sheer flimsiness of its content. The lines quoted above – about a “feeling of intimacy” and the luxurious wrappers of Mr Andersson’s porn stash – are much of the supposed substance of the thing. The rest is largely flatulent, self-involved rambling – as “autoethnography” generally is.

This, then, is what is considered “very publishable” in academia’s Clown Quarter. That progressive fiefdom.

However, one topic that Mr Andersson left oddly untouched was the matter of his own relationship to the law – child pornography, including shota, being illegal in many countries, including the United Kingdom, where his self-pleasuring project was so proudly conducted. That this detail doesn’t appear to have concerned Mr Andersson, or his peers and supervisors – at least until the project came to wider, incredulous attention – possibly tells us something about the academic circles in which he moves – or rather, moved.

Conceivably, this kind of contrived edginess, this exulting in pathology, is itself found titillating among his peers. An indicator of radical sophistication.

One might, I think, regard Mr Andersson’s paper, his boldness, and his pretence of intellectual heft, as a kind of provocation, a shit test. Readers may wonder whether, as Ben Sixsmith suggested, the field of “queer studies” is often spared even basic scrutiny, regardless of its content, or lack thereof, for fear of seeming bigoted and, with dark irony, anti-intellectual.

Readers may even wonder whether the widespread and rapid propagation, not least in academia, of transgender ideology and boutique identities has emboldened other niche psychological demographics – including, seemingly, paedophiles – to make themselves known while daring us to disapprove. Or at least, daring those sufficiently hamstrung by their own pretensions.

As commenter [+] quipped at the time,

The pedos want their ‘pride’ now.

Certainly, there has been quite a bit of nonce-as-oppressed-minority sentiment appearing recently in academia’s Clown Quarter and Clown-adjacent areas – Allyn Walker, Miranda Galbreath, and Ole Martin Moen come to mind – along with the conceit that in order to ensure the safety and wellbeing of children, we must stop being judgmental of the adults who wish to molest them and thereby ruin their lives.

Such is the eye-watering progress of our times.

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Written by: David
Dating Decisions Food and Drink Free-For-All Unreturnable Crutches

Unauthorised Jam Consumption

September 14, 2024 122 Comments

And other modern dramas.

First, from the comments, where Clam warns,

DON’T MESS WITH THE SCHOOL LUNCH POLICE.

Regarding this:

What grates, I think, is the routine overstepping of boundaries, the casual insult. Judging by the transgressive sandwiches, to which the note is attached, it seems the child was prevented from eating and, presumably, publicly embarrassed.

A while ago, one of my nieces received a snotty note scolding her for sending her son to school with a packed lunch consisting of a banana and a peanut butter sandwich, an occasional treat. Apparently, peanut butter, like jam, is a verboten foodstuff. And so, as a result, someone is employed to poke through children’s lunch boxes and to then write snotty notes to parents. A function doubtless enjoyed.

But here’s the thing. If you aren’t paying for something directly, even if you’re still paying indirectly, via taxes, you won’t by default be regarded as a customer, for whom some minimal regard might be shown, and whose boundaries should be respected. Instead, it’s quite likely you’ll be treated as an inconvenience, an irritation, someone who can be insulted and subjected to condescension.

See also, our glorious NHS.

The item linked above recounts, in abbreviated form, my attempt to return a set of crutches to the local NHS hospital – and how an ostensibly simple task became a 45-minute ordeal with farcical overtones. Entailing a trek of a half a mile or so, down endless corridors on multiple floors, from one department to another, then another, then another. An odyssey enlivened by encounters with bizarrely rude and unhelpful staff, and while walking past posters stressing the moral imperative of patients returning their crutches. An undertaking made as impractical, as maddening, and as absurdly complicated, as would seem humanly possible.

And it’s not entirely heartening to realise, as you trek down yet another corridor, that you’re entrusting your wellbeing, perhaps even your life, to an institution that can’t organise a practical system for the returning of crutches.

Oh, and while I have your attention, I bring dating instructions from the land of the badly tattooed and terminally self-involved:

Since discovering my gender expression and how fluid it is, I’ve come to a realisation that if you want to date me, you have to be okay with the fact that you might wake up to a little boyfriend, a little androgynous partner, or a little fem girlfriend. You might have a boyfriend one day and a girlfriend the next, depending on how I am feeling in my gender expression, and I love that about me.

Please update your files and lifestyles accordingly.

Also, open thread.

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Written by: David
Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (736)

September 13, 2024 80 Comments

You want one and you know it. || I have questions. || A question of manners. || So, do you come here often? || Down to a dribble. || Another everyday cleaning complication. || Jiggling was seen and pondered. || Perhaps larger breasts would draw attention away from the hands. || Arctic research projects, some atomic. || Plot twist. || For lovers of cassette tape. || Customer service at an emotional moment. || Maw. || Swiss mechanical dolls that draw. || 1920s coin-operated automata of note. || Tread carefully, there may be traces of rust. || Today’s word is eyeliner. || At last. || Installation. || He brought friends. || And finally, via Things, an extensive archive of sound effects. From submarine sonar blips and assorted swooshes to fires, flamethrowers, and burning fuses.

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