Jonathan Kay shares the, um, joys of fully intersectional Canadian television:

The taxpayer-funded media colossus known as the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation has unveiled a new show called Lido TV, in which a pair of talking tomatoes (they look like testicles, but apparently they’re supposed to be vegetables) deliver woke sermons to whoever is so unfortunate as to hit the play button… After video clips from this self-parodic mess went viral, it emerged that Lido’s production company has been bankrolled in the high-five figures (at least) by public funds. Your (Canadian) tax dollars at work.

Viewers of pallor will doubtless be entranced by 20-minute episodes titled Colonialism and Privilege, and stern lectures – delivered by the host, singer Lido Pimienta, and two giant, talking testicles – on just how bigoted and generally awful their collective ancestors were, and how this historical beastliness is, “like, affecting all of us, all of the time, on every level.” Likewise, viewers unpolluted by pallor will be empowered and destined to flourish, armed with the knowledge that any failure or shortcoming in their lives, almost any resentment, can be traced back to, and promptly blamed on, the aforementioned colonialism, privilege, and pale devilry.

The boggling awfulness of the project – applauded by Maclean’s as “subversive” and “surrealist political edutainment,” the work of a “polymath” – isn’t easy to convey in words. Happily, clips are available. And yes, an entire episode. If your idea of a good time includes pretentious displays of indigenous authenticity, rambling, barely relevant interviews, and excruciating sketches about land acknowledgement, this is the one for you.

Update, via the comments:

Three words: post-coital fondue. || Tongue action. || Twitter: The Movie. || He nipped outside for a smoke. || The thrill of carpet fitting. || Cyberpunk excitement. || How to empty one of these with optimal speed. || They have much to teach us. || A cosy murder mystery. || “The erotic mind-control community has a problem with racism.” || Brittany, 27, is not at all religious. || Booby drumroll. || There ain’t no cringe quite like woke theatre cringe. || Divergence. || “What does it matter?” || It’s amazing how quickly the day can turn to shit. || Apparently, he’s not broadcasting it. || Batman: The Silent Motion Picture. || Notice of note. || The thrill of anvils. || Millions of years of fun for the whole family. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || And finally, don’t pull that face – you’d watch and you know it.

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Jonathan Kay on woke mysticism and the latest must-have identity niche:  

[O]ne of the main themes of the 32-page document is that the task of defining the Two-Spirit concept is (quite literally) beyond the powers of Western language and epistemology. And in any case, the category is almost completely open-ended: The act of proclaiming oneself Two-Spirited could be a statement about one’s gender, or sexual orientation, or both, or neither. Or 2S can be a statement about one’s politics, spirituality, or simply one’s desire to present as “anti-colonial.” […]

While the authors of the report were careful to source their work to Indigenous writers and interviewees, it’s interesting to note that all of the listed societal roles attributed to ancient Two-Spirited people align uncannily with the avant-garde outlook of a white 2022-era environmentalist who’s embraced intersectional conceptions of gender… We are told no fewer than nine times, for instance, that the authors are following an “anti-oppressive” approach. Colonialism is denounced more than a dozen times, including in its “heteronormative” (three times) variant.

Needless to say, the whole thing is a bit of a two-legged stool and, shall we say, not entirely consonant with anthropological evidence.

Libby Emmons on cheated female athletes and transgender overreach:

A lady descending, for unladylike reasons. || He wanted a piece of that action. || An alternative to towing. || Welcome to the clown timeline. || Selective umbrage detected. || Ceaseless innovation. (h/t, pst314) || Incoming. || Not for the nervous, a very close call. || For the bespectacled, a patent of note. || Not entirely implausible. (h/t, Damian) || Alpine shelter. Wi-Fi status unknown. || The past. || The roller skates of yesteryear. || Melon migration. || All back to mine. || Hers is bigger than yours. || Street vibes. || “Without testicles, a boy will become dependent on external hormones for the rest of his life.” || When your wardrobe solution requires some reorganization of external reality. || Freethinker detected. || And finally, when the new furniture is a little confusing.

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One for our ongoing series on the progressive retail experience. I believe this is part 445:

A young woman asks in a brazen voice as the destruction and theft rages behind her, “Are y’all gonna make the sandwiches or are ya’ll just gonna keep recording?” The Wawa employee responded, “Uh, it’s going to be a while.”

“No arrests were made.”

Update, via the comments:

The celebratory twerking seen in the background is, you’ll agree, a charming touch. Presumably done on grounds that trashing someone’s business and stealing their property, while exulting in mob intimidation and giving two fingers to the idea of civilisation, is all so jolly. Perhaps we can look forward to another Vice article telling us how looting is a good thing when black people do it.

After all, self-styled progressives – the people who loudly announce their supposed compassion and altruism – are famed for making weirdly contrived excuses for pathological selfishness. Say, the kind of pathological selfishness seen above and throughout the progressive retail series. Indeed, excuses for sociopathic behaviour are a staple of progressive posturing, appearing all but weekly, and with increasing moral convolution and outright perversity.

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Both literal and ideological:

I love to dance, but I’m a bit picky about music. If Motown is playing, I’m guaranteed to have a transcendent in-my-body experience, whereas electronic dance music is hit and miss. I was, however, determined to shake and sweat and twitch, and so I did. My new friend danced beside me, trying to talk to me through the foam plugs in my ears—I nodded along with a smile, hearing nothing.

I do have one or two questions – not least regarding the use of foam earplugs – but let us hasten on. The gyrator in question is a seemingly ungendered being named Kier Adrian Gray, who “went to a queer dance party with someone I’d met online.”

We’d had a nice time chatting over sodas at the city’s catholic themed bar before we headed to a warehouse full of slippery, glittering gays, adorned in fishnet and sequin, leather and lace.

Sequins and glitter, and a companion of indeterminate sex, another ungendered being. So far, so flaming. But for a night out to be progressive and fully intersectional, it does need some more improbable complications. And so,

After a while, they [our narrator’s companion] wanted to move closer to the stage and I followed. Before we could make it to the front, though, they explained how the dance floor closest to the DJ was for black and indigenous femmes only.

There we go.

Alarming crane-related mishap of note. (Happily, he survived.) || And some unexpected excitement in the bedroom. || His is bigger than yours. || The up-buggering of Bond continues, I see. || Two mighty combatants. || A question of mass. And yes, it will be on the test. || Methane bubbles. || Lions in the rain. || You trade them in, I think. || “A friendly reminder.” || Intrigue. || “Fake tranny privilege.” || The progressive retail experience, part 444. || Party planning. || He speaks for women. No, really, he does. || The thrill of newsstands. || Ladies at large. || A tool for every job. || When you live near the border. || At the University of Iowa, it’s the life of the mind. || Swings 2.0. || And finally, artificial intelligence finds open-access camera footage of Instagram photos being taken.  

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Further to recent rumblings in the comments, the Globe and Mail’s Phoebe Maltz Bovy offers what I believe is called a hot take:

Most will be familiar with the following scenario: a young girl, a teen or tween, gets in trouble with her school’s administration for a dress-code violation. Her supposed crime against decency: looking provocative. It will turn out that the girl was wearing some normal teenager outfit, jeans and a T-shirt or something equally boring, but had the audacity to attend school in a body with breasts, hips and a post-pubescent-looking behind… She is not choosing to draw attention to herself simply by existing. It’s the fault of the adults around her for sexualising her.

Given what follows, do keep that last line in mind.

But in a twist to the typical narrative, this time around, a high-school teacher in Oakville, Ont., made headlines for her curvaceous classroom presence.

That would be this chap’s curvaceous classroom presence.

“The conservative press and right-wing social media” are then mentioned, complete with implied hissing, on grounds that those irredeemable right-wingers have noticed something untoward:

Number four. The discovery of fire.

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

Nommy nommy nom. || New rap sensation. || The rest of the rainbow. || “White people are the reason I can’t lose weight.” || Instant woman. || Karate Girl, 1973. || A rethinking of priorities. || A detailed, two-part analysis of the self-destructing tape recorders in the Mission: Impossible TV series. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || They’re just making sure your children are “porn-literate.” || I can explain everything. || Can I stay here for a while? || Free toy or side? || Team mascot of note. || 100 million degrees Celsius for 30 seconds. || Romantic long shot. || She was digging in her tail. || A dog’s dinner was made of it. || Boat horn detected. || Incoming. || Incoming 2. || There may be a lesson of some kind here. (h/t, Dr W) || And finally, and not at all perilously, just think of the savings. 

Update: 

Thanks to ComputerLabRat, the comments are now enhanced with enormous rubber boobs.

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