For newcomers, more items from the archives.

The Humble Among Us. 

Novelist Brigid Delaney wants a nicer flat in order to write about those non-creative people. You, taxpayer, come hither.

As a member of our creative caste, Ms Delaney wants to capture the buzz and thrum of city life. She wants to inspire “recognition” and above all “empathy.” It’s just that she’d prefer not to empathise too much with those non-creative people. Say, by working for a living and paying her own bills. And who will write about those ordinary people and their non-artistic lives if we don’t encourage Ms Delaney and her peers to live way above their means, at our expense, in places they can’t afford? Places they can’t afford because what they create isn’t as vital to the public as they might wish.

Pearl-Clutching Pornographers. 

Campus feminists combat “male-centricity” by making unerotic pornography and rubbing eggs on their breasts.

As some readers may be intrigued by the notion of all-female feminist pornography, here’s a brief description: “It begins with a group of girls sitting around a library table taking their shirts off. As the film progresses, the girls engage in activities including kissing, rubbing eggs on their bodies and twerking around a chicken carcass.” The finished political opus, titled Initiation, also features the somewhat lacklustre use of a riding crop and extended scenes of floor-wiping. 

Militantly Nude. 

A San Francisco “nude-in” reveals more than intended.

Some may register a whiff of disingenuousness in exhibitionists accusing their critics of being repressive and stuffy. Exhibitionists may be eager to dispense with clothing in incongruous locations – say, a traffic island in the middle of a busy intersection – but they desperately need an audience, preferably one that’s embarrassed and unwilling. San Francisco is remarkably well-equipped in terms of nude-friendly clubs and amenities, including a nude beach and nearby nudist colonies. What’s revealing is that such venues weren’t deemed sufficient for our wrinkly radicals. And while I doubt many readers here are prone to fainting at the sight of withered genitals and subsiding buttocks, they may conceivably object to being made an accomplice to someone else’s psychodrama. As one young lady points out, “Unwanted exposure to scrotum is never okay.”

And I’m told it’s possible, if not wise, to while away an hour in the greatest hits, now updated. 

Dennis Saffran on beer pong, WrongThought™ and academia’s latest racial inquisition: 

The black student had jokingly named his beer pong team “Team Nigga” and would shout the name whenever the team scored. At some point, the white student – reprising a running joke on the football team, in which black students would greet white teammates with the phrase “White power!” – said, “Can I get a white power?” The black student replied, “White power!” The noise from the party awakened a student in another room in the residence hall… She reported this exchange to the Campus Living office, and an inquisition began.

The two students were charged with inflicting “physical or mental harm” and “discrimination or harassment,” as well as with disorderly conduct… Within days after the hearing, the two were found guilty of all charges, placed on probation, and ordered on threat of suspension to undergo “bias reduction training.” The ruling stated, without any support, that their “language had contributed to the creation of a hostile and discriminatory environment.” Rarely does the modern left’s humourlessness, authoritarianism, and subversion of its own goals come together as starkly as in this case.

Christopher Snowdon on the public health hustle and the mentality it attracts: 

This story didn’t get much play in the mainstream media but it tells you everything you need to know about the public health racket, from the headline down: “‘We will push for a law if we don’t get support,’ warns health group.” Yeah, that’s the spirit. If people don’t agree with you, force them.

And via Hal, Robyn Urback on the intolerant psychodramas of the Proletarian Feminist Front and their comrades-in-shouting: 

By the protesters’ later account, however, their rebellion was akin to confronting and conquering proponents of “misogynist” messaging. (The event was actually about the struggles men and fathers face in family court, but that doesn’t really matter). On the Revolutionary Student Movement website, a blog post subsequently bragged that, “Revolutionaries shut down [a] Men’s Rights Activists event at the University of Toronto.” The protesters’ post reads like a passage from George Orwell’s Animal Farm, written in the style of a supervillain manifesto.

What occurs to me about these delusional tools – besides their mental conformity, their vanity, and their belief that the campus belongs to them and is theirs to disrupt – is that their places could have been taken by students who don’t strive to silence facts and ideas, and who actually want to learn something. Perhaps even a skill that’s of value to others and will thereby earn them a living. There must be thousands of much smarter, more honest people – people who don’t imagine themselves as Maoist “revolutionaries” - who would eagerly use the opportunity that these obnoxious little parasites are squandering.

As usual, feel free to share your own links and snippets in the comments. It’s what these posts are for.

100 ways to attack the groin. // Village People gyrate sans backing track. // Autonomous bins and other features of future living. // His levitating wiener. // Squishy robots with “tunable stiffness structures.” // Cardboard steampunk machines. // Parasites. // A project for the weekend. // Tractor beam made of water. // Underwater vortices. // You have to wonder how this happened. // Wait, I put it in my mouth and… what? // How high? This high. // “He had a tooth growing in his nose.” // Free noir films. Orson, Bogie and Johnny Cash. // A tortoise penis is a thing to behold. // A giant turtle made of scrap. // Calculating the Doctor’s face. // And finally, the formula for pretty much every episode of Murder, She Wrote. 

Because I know you love it, here’s more “guerrilla art” on a bridge. Or more specifically, an “infiltration in public space.” This time the venue is Pier 66 at the 2011 Fountain New York Art Fair, where Canadian performance artist Martine Viale thrills and captivates passers-by, armed only with a carrier bag of bobbins and a head wrapped in yarn. The powerful climax is rather special.

A triumph, I think you’ll agree.

Ms Viale regards her body as “a place of research” and her “artistic practice” is, needless to say, terribly intellectual, indeed profound, focussing as it does “on ‘process-action’ and the corporeality of space and time that allow for simultaneous multi-dimensional developments.”

Ms Viale’s other, no less mighty works include Intra Muros 1, highlights of which can be seen here, Elongation, a “physically demanding” work that involved stepping from one bowl of blue paint to the next, and which, for one reviewer, “evoked a metaphysical cloud of unknowing,” and Ma Interval (Tel Aviv), in which our fearlessly transgressive artist wrapped wool around some bus station benches and then stood motionless for over an hour, presumably waiting for applause and recognition of her talent.

Previously on a bridge.

Pyongyang, filmed – and flattered – by Rob Whitworth and JT Singh.