Dr Lecter’s twilight years. || The underwater hotel suite you’ve always wanted. (h/t, Dicentra) || Witchcraft. (h/t, Tim) || Cinema takes its toll. (h/t, Ben) || Motion-sensor flower lamps. || Frankenstein Meets the Spacemonster, 1965. || Joys of parenthood, part 604. || Parasite fighters. (h/t, sk60) || Contemporary tape use. || What coronavirus does. || 100 minutes of nest-building. || Icy door of note. || Pudding of note. || Tempting fate. || Important question, answered. || How to remove a wisdom tooth. || The thrill of grooming. || The worm dance. || Do you see bush? || The chairs of Blake’s 7, an illustrated guide. || Related, the assorted seating of Doctor Who. || And finally, today’s word is suboptimal.

It’s with an almost nascent nostalgia that I recall the coining of the Gen Z “sexual recession”: a patronising concern that our youngest generation would be rendered psychosexually stunted, unable or unwilling to fornicate due to over-exposure to smartphones, social media and porn.

Yes, it’s the Guardian, where almost nascent nostalgia is a thing that exists.

Ciara Gaffney, a resident of Los Angeles and a “brand strategist,” is very excited – all but rendered incoherent – by a “cybersexual revolution” that, during the pandemic, is apparently occurring.

Flinging the Gregorian calendar into irrelevance, humanity will be bisected into pre-Covid-19 and post-Covid-19, and although many will ruminate on how we have changed, one thing is indisputable: the rose-coloured epoch before the coronavirus bitterly shamed the sending of nudes.

There’s more of that, a lot, in fact. You’d better used to it.

They were perceived as gauche, even pathetic. In the lockdown era, however, thirst traps and nudes are not only making a glorious, unrepentant comeback, but are now a form of emboldened agency in Gen Z’s blossoming sexual liberation.

For affirmation, Ms Gaffney links to Buzzfeed, where we’re told of an unattached lady named Alicia who sent nude photos to a female friend because she “wanted some validation.” Said friend was expected to “say nice things” and, as Alicia puts it, “hype me up.” Neurotic neediness, it turns out, is the new empowerment. What’s more, the coronavirus lockdown is “galvanising” this new “sexual revolution,” in which seemingly unhappy people share photos of their genitals, often far and wide, in the hope of being validated. It’s all terribly exciting, and radical, and brings our narrator to a state of agitation:

An open thread, you cry, in which to share links and bicker. Okay, then. I’m obliging that way.

I’ll set the ball rolling with an unenticing offer; ten hours of Dune; a notable absence of handrails; via Darleen, some lively scenes; and via Damian, a cunning use of peanut butter.

Oh, and as some of you may be shopping from home a little more than usual, please bear in mind that any Amazon UK shopping done via this link or the search widget top right, or for Amazon US via this link, results in a small fee for your host at no extra cost to you.

It helps to keep this place here.

For those in need of further diversion, the Reheated series is there to be poked at. Good and hard.

At the University of North Texas, a small act of mockery proves revealing:

When [maths professor, Nathaniel] Hiers noticed “a stack of flyers” on microaggressions in the department faculty lounge in November, he read them and found the ideas wanting. Then he wrote “Don’t leave garbage lying around” in jest on a chalkboard, with arrows pointing to the flyers.

Those of a delicate disposition may wish to avoid this image of un-woke waywardness.

Do remember to breathe.

Needless to say, such demurral – promptly construed as “upsetting” and even “threatening” – could not go unpunished:

Hiers claims that the reasons he was given for his firing trace back to the microaggression fliers: He wouldn’t subject himself to “additional diversity training” or retract his criticism of the fliers, and his “actions and response are not compatible with the values of this department.”

Professor Hiers’ claim regarding the reason for his firing appears to be confirmed, in writing, by the maths department chairman Ralf Schmidt, who cites the incident as pivotal in his decision and describes Hiers’ mockery of the flyers as “cowardly.”

The department-endorsed leaflets insist that statements such as “I believe the most qualified person should get the job” are in fact racist, sexist “microaggressions” and, in ways somewhat unclear, terribly oppressive, even a grave health risk, allegedly “targeting” the “marginalised group membership” of theoretical persons. Persons who, we’re told, consequently endure all manner of hardships, from poverty and migraines to heart disease and eating disorders. And so, it turns out that airing a belief in the importance of competence – as opposed to a preoccupation with a person’s sex or skin colour – is some kind of malevolent incantation, a powerful curse.

Professor Hiers is now suing the University of North Texas.

Potato game upgraded. || Starfish tippy-toes. || The thrill of pond water. || I’m pretty sure I’ve done this. (h/t, Dicentra) || The pieties of our betters, a brief compilation. || Possibly related. || Police escort. || Steep. || Explorers. || A project for the weekend. (h/t, Beagle) || Modern problems that your parents didn’t have. || Distancing technology. || I don’t think cats do this. (h/t, Damian) || Don’t tell your mother. || Music machines of note. || We Will Rock You. (h/t, Open Culture) || Savings. || Cheers. || Bloopers of yesteryear. || Parisian balloons, 1914. || Boys and girls. (h/t, Dicentra) || Webslinger. || Not entirely successful wildlife photography. || And finally, somewhat alarmingly, scenes of forbidden love.