An open thread, in which to share links and then bicker about them. I’ll start, via Obnoxio, with a Guardian headline circa 2025: 

Related, Francesca is a journalist. If all else fails, you can always poke through the reheated series.

I found myself despising all men.

In the pages of the Guardian, a dissatisfied feminist howls at the Moon:  

Life isn’t going how we thought it would. We’re being left behind and without the financial ability (or housing) to freeze eggs or go it alone, or adopt… The idea that single people in their 30s are all having fun is a lie. We are the have-nots and we are sad. What now?

In response to this mournful noise, the Guardian’s resident agony aunt, Mariella Frostrup, informs us that “society has not yet shape-shifted enough to fully integrate us,” by which she means unhappy feminists, and that “the seismic changes needed to make the world more bearable… aren’t happening fast enough.” The possibility that feminist expectations may not be entirely realistic – and that “despising all men” isn’t necessarily a great way to attract a male partner and live a happy life – are oddly unexplored.

Instead, Ms Frostrup rambles about “social justice” and “universal childcare” as “issues that matter.” Because feminists are so thrusting and empowered that they expect the care of their own children to be organised and paid for by some other sucker.

Somewhat related, this. 

Via Joan.

Female wrestler uses thighs and buttocks to impressive effect. || Mishap of note. || Today’s word is placebo. || Our betters gather. || Vacuum, baby. || One-armed violinist. || Mushroom 11 is a game. || Furong Zhen is a place that exists. || This is one of these. || We are tumbling through the heavens. || How many hamsters would you need to power a typical house? || He is, needless to say, a sociology professor. || Cinema cats. || Chocolate kraken. (h/t, Julia) || Autonomous chairs. || Niche humour. (h/t, Ben) || Oh Waitrose, never change. (h/t, Damian) || Life imitates art. || Add feet to your arse. || “When you domesticate a fox, you don’t make a dog.” || And finally, via Tim, a little project for the weekend.

One for Tim Newman, I think:

My friend Bear identifies as someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder (often erroneously referred to as multiple personality disorder) which is integral to how and why they practice polyamory. They say, “I don’t have any illusion one person could meet all my personalities’ needs. We are very different. Different tastes, different hobbies, different things which make us happy.”

As I’ve said before, readers may wish to ponder why a publication aimed at fierce, empowered feminists – would-be remakers of the world – should presume that much of its readership has quite serious mental health issues. 

Update: 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Tim has some thoughts.

Attention, citizens of South Yorkshire. Report that non-crime incident now.

Insulting comments “will not be tolerated.”