Ashe Schow on the dishonesties of “social justice” warriors:

A group allegedly dedicated to stopping online harassment and abuse used the same tactics it claimed to abhor to harass those it disagreed with politically. Crash Override Network, founded by Zoe Quinn… used tactics such as doxing (by which a person’s private contact information is published online in order to intimidate them) to harass people… For example, the group discussed trying to contact the superior officer of a Purple Heart recipient who had expressed support of Gamergate to try to silence him. The group also discussed contacting Google in an attempt to get an employee, Justine Tunney, fired after she also voiced support for Gamergate… Members of CON, including Quinn, have spoken out against online bullying before the United Nations, and have also worked with Google and Twitter allegedly to stop online harassment, all while engaging in the very same harassment.

The predictably sordid details can be found here. 

And – this is a good one – Brandon Morse and Lauren Southern on when “social justice” scolding is caught on camera, in all its glory: 

A social justice warrior named Annaliese Nielsen got into a Lyft car, spotted a Hawaiian bobblehead doll on the dashboard, and began to berate and threaten the driver unless he took the bobblehead doll down. According to her, it was offensive to Hawaiian people, and thus this man was in clear violation of her made-up social justice laws.

Comedy of a sort ensues, followed by threats, projection and abuse, and – outrageously – the polite driver’s sacking. This in turn is followed by his vindication and reinstatement, and then, for dear sweet Annaliese, a kind of payback. If, on watching the video, the word bitch comes to mind, I won’t be at all surprised.

Feel free to share your own links and snippets, on any subject, in the comments. It’s what these posts are for.

For me, my menstrual cycle is my portal to the blessedness of life… It’s like magic.

Here we go again: 

A woman by the name of Iris Josephina Verstappen decided it was imperative she smear her own menstrual blood under her eyes and on her hands while letting the blood flow freely down her legs for a nude photoshoot to stop so-called “period-shaming.”

There are photos at the link showing Ms Verstappen in full flow, as it were, so readers can determine for themselves just how uplifting and empowering it is to bleed all over yourself, and the floor, while waiting to be applauded. When not bleeding on things in a terribly radical fashion, Ms Verstappen is a “cycle awareness educator, doula, anthropologist” and, in her words, “an endlessly creative soul.” She offers “body friendly options for menstrual management.”

Whether she gets kickbacks from the local dry-cleaner is, as yet, unclear.

Previously, vaginal knitting.

Lifted from the comments yesterday, Class War unveil their latest triumph of radical activism. Because, according to one class warrior,

It’s our job for the rich to fear us. 

When not waging a “decisive battle against gentrification” by smashing the windows of an estate agent, the Class War Massive declare their ambition to “get rid of the rich” – by as yet unspecified but apparently terminal means. This heady intellectual broth has inevitably attracted our finest minds, among them, the self-styled “rebel ethnographer” Dr Lisa Mckenzie, whose mental adventures have previously entertained us. 

At last, a paper calculator. // Starring the computer. As seen in film and television. // Fun with grammar. // Flexils, like pencils but flexible. // Hippo table of note. // Hamster Mario. // The horsemen of Semonkong. (h/t, Coudal) // On the origins of Dick. // Arthur C Clarke reads extracts from 2001: A Space Odyssey. // Ruben really likes his job. // No, you fool. The other red one. // At last, your very own remote-controlled tugboat. // In 120 years, sprinters have gotten faster. (h/t, Things) // Tall and twisted buildings. // Well, it’s one way to do it, I suppose. // Umwelt. // Visiting cousin. // Shadow sculptures of note. // Sshh. Don’t tell them. (h/t, Ace) // Hornet turban. // Sliding doors of note. // Caterpillar excursion, Perth. // And finally, a near-perfect display of crashing very slowly.

For newcomers, more items from the archives. A ladies-of-the-left edition:

Do Not Date Bedlamites.

Melissa Fabello, managing editor of Everyday Feminism, shares her interracial dating advice with those less enlightened: 

If you’re creasing the sheets with someone and you’re continually fretting about pseudo-sociology and imagined racial power dynamics, and about who’s being “marginalised” by virtue of their melanin levels, and thinking about sex “in relation to social power,” then it doesn’t sound like a relationship so much as an elaborate fetish. Seemingly oblivious, Ms Fabello goes on to stress the wickedness of “racial fetishization” and of “exotifying” sex with “people of colour.” “It’s never appropriate to stereotype people,” says she. And yet her own article is premised on “othering” and “exotifying” people with browner skin than hers. Chiefly by viewing them as eternal victims of some all-pervasive “white supremacy,” which apparently renders them “marginalised” and powerless, and in need of endless, neurotic accommodation by immensely sensitive white people, even in the bedroom. 

The Mouthing of Bollocks. 

“Racial justice educator” Rachel Kuo tells us how to order takeaway in a suitably agonised and intersectional manner: 

For Ms Kuo, neurotic fretting is, and should be, a staple of eating out: “Food can be used as a tool of marginalisation and oppression… It’s critical for us to reflect on how we perceive the cultures that we’re consuming and think about the relationships between food, people, and power.” And yet the family running my local Chinese takeaway actively encourages heathen white folk to sample their wares, regardless of whether those paying customers are intimately familiar with All Of Chinese History. And I very much doubt that they expect their patrons to acquaint themselves with “the complex relationships and power dynamics between Asian countries” and issues of “labour equity and immigration policy” as a precondition of buying hot tossed chicken. No. What they want is custom. Pretentiously agonised pseudo-sensitivity is, alas, not billable.