They arrive flat-pack. (h/t, Julia) || In-flight escalation of note. || An unexpected noise. (h/t, Damian) || Welcome to the world of nappy status notifications. || Today’s word is inadvisable. || China’s vertical dramas. || A collection of tiny vases. || Modern headline. || I think this is called ‘going out of your way to be angry’. (h/t, Darleen) || ‘Free’ explained in chart form. (h/t, Dicentra) || It’s a zoetrope, it’s a chocolate cake. || Willy Wonka goes ska. || Airport scenes. || Today’s other words are progressive law enforcement. (h/t, Jeff) || Our betters lead complicated lives. || One for the ladies. || She has furry friends. || It, er, comes with a remote. (h/t, Captain Nemo) || And finally, a reminder that parking is hard.

Yes, it’s time for an open thread. Feel free to share links and bicker.

As an enriching cultural bonus, here are some Estonian art gallery scenes, in which a full-figured feminist protests against the “violence” of the art on offer – while naked, obviously – during a visit by schoolchildren. The artist being denounced is Marko Mäetamm, whose offerings to the world are numerous and can be savoured here. The feminist lady taking umbrage, Mare Tralla, also makes bad art.

The boy in the hat, fourth from the right, rather captures the moment, I think.  

Via Orwell & Goode.

What is masculinity? How can we challenge it?

So ask the great minds behind Earth First! UK, a “non-hierarchical organisation” that will soon be hosting a six-day series of eco-activist workshops at an undisclosed rural location in the North East of England and which employs unspecified “direct action” in order to “stop the destruction of the Earth.” It all sounds very Flash Gordon – except, I suppose, for the challenging masculinity thing. Curiously, a definition of masculinity seems to have proved elusive and no indication is given of exactly why masculinity should be challenged. It just should, apparently. They’re quite emphatic on this point. Which sounds a little like jumping the gun, but there we are.

As if to heighten the intrigue, the official tweet, linked above, links in turn to the official Earth First! UK website, which also has no information whatsoever about why challenging masculinity is a thing one ought to be doing, and doing urgently, or how one might go about this pressing task in a suitably planet-saving manner. In fact, the workshop in which these high-minded rumblings will apparently occur, thereby averting catastrophe, isn’t mentioned at all. Conceivably, the aforementioned “non-hierarchical organisation” may be a factor here.

Those untroubled by such mysteries and who wish to save the world from rampant masculinity, possibly by chaining themselves to something, are advised to bring “a tent, a sleeping bag and a torch.” Rest assured that meals will be “made vegan and collectively,” which sounds promising. And do bear in mind that “everyone is crew,” another gloriously collective sentiment, and consequently, “toilets and running water will be run by all of us.” The words foolproof and hygienic leap immediately to mind.

Via Julia, who is no doubt already airing her sleeping bag.

Locker room scenes. (h/t, Julia) || Missile orientation. || Make your own sand kittens. || Salad jelly. || High-status leisure activity. || Pet repair. || Tiny frilled trumpets with mucous houses. || Dumpster fire toy, $50. || Differing approaches to package delivery. || I did not know this. (h/t, sk60) || New space-travel-related unit of measurement. A discussion ensues. || Bond villain death quiz. (h/t, Runcie) || Bluegrass abroad. || Our betters discussed. One, a former head of the BBC, now CEO of the New York Times. || “The bowl wasn’t actually connected to plumbing.” || What bird song looks like. || Tilted tornado. || Get a load of me. || Nostrils. || And finally, for devotees of the cinematic arts, “Hey, check this out.”

More feminist fun times in the pages of the Guardian, where Nicola Heath is bemoaning her womanly lot:

It feels very personal, the fight you have with your partner about who does the laundry or cleans the bathroom. But the second-wave feminists were right. The personal is political. 

“The personal is political,” says she. Well, so I hear. But it’s also worth considering just how often the political, or allegedly political, is a function of personality and a self-flattering rationalisation for personal shortcomings and sub-optimal choices. Not least among the kinds of people who loudly announce that the personal is political. In fact, hold that thought.

The unequal division of labour at home is a systemic issue that needs structural social change to solve it. 

In this instance, the claim of inequality and the case for “structural social change” are not entirely compelling:  

Like many heterosexual couples, it was the arrival of children that set my husband and me on divergent paths at home. I’ve been an avowed (and untidy) feminist since I was old enough to say the word. We were together for 10 years before the birth of our daughter – he knew his co-parent had zero aspirations to be a homemaker… Becoming a parent is… a huge transition. Your identity is reforged in the crucible of sleep deprivation and newfound responsibility. The pre-kid lifestyle of Friday night drinks, free time and sleeping in becomes a distant memory. 

Yes, in a shocking and unguessable turn of events, becoming a parent is usually a life-changing experience, a major development that entails compromise and sacrifice. A shifting of priorities. If only all of the other parents on the planet throughout human history had an inkling, some clue. Our Guardian writer is of course determined to frame the subsequent division of labour in the Heath household as a result of dark forces – including “social conditioning,” “prescribed gender roles” and the oft-invoked “gender pay gap.” An allegedly oppressive phenomenon that doesn’t actually exist. And then, inevitably, a whiff of self-pity:

When you have someone to take care of menial stuff such as running your life, there’s little incentive to change the status quo. It’s nice having someone wash your clothes and cook your food. When you don’t have to expend mental energy keeping track of grocery lists and family birthdays, you have the cognitive bandwidth to think about other things.

She’s expending mental energy on grocery lists. Someone bring medals, big ones.

You should chew your food until it is small enough to swallow easily,

The Guardian, paper of the enlightened, tells its readers how to chew food.

Also, open thread.

Update:

In the comments, via Darleen, behold the bedlamite dance.

“Labour Party. Socialist. Teacher.”

Put another way, “State education is generally sub-optimal and often shockingly bad. Let’s make sure that’s all there is available.”

We’ve been here before, of course. As when we heard the claim, conveniently unchallenged, that doing one’s best for one’s own children – in contravention of “social justice” – is merely a “cultural construction,” and therefore, presumably, ripe for deconstruction. By our betters.

And we’ve been here more than once.

Minor malfunction detected. || An appetising dessert. || Just the usual family drama. || An alarming example of upside-down peas. (h/t, Damian) || How to sound like Erik Satie, or alternatively, like Bach. || The sounds of American doomsday cults. (h/t, Things) || It undulates. || Theodore Dalrymple on modern dishonesties. || The car of tomorrow. || Firecrackers of yore. (h/t, Coudal) || South African scenes. || Horse sense. (h/t, Darleen) || High anxiety. || I think something is rattling. || Attention, retailers: How to sell the Sony Betamax. || Stromboli goes boom. || There and back again. || God one, boat nil. (h/t, Rita) || Eleven elements. || And finally, via Elephants Gerald, a balance of terror.

I think it may be time for an open thread, in which to share links and bicker.

What?

Oh, sorry. Forgot.

Breasts.

A discussion ensues.

You can tell from his outpourings:

As someone who writes about Trump and his subordinates every day, I need every reprieve I can find from the ongoing toxic demise of our country, including in my personal social media. But my decision today to unfriend this individual was no simple purge; I am significantly emotionally wounded. 

It’s all terribly dramatic. Practically a miniature opera. You see, while browsing Facebook, Mr Ford saw a photo of an old high school friend celebrating the Fourth of July with her daughter and while wearing a Make America Great Again hat. The latter detail, the hat, being, for Mr Ford, “unacceptable,” a personal violation and source of deep trauma. Naturally, and not at all oddly, Zack decided to scold his old high school friend, as was his duty as a super-woke being: 

I gave my friend an ultimatum.

Always a sound opening gambit.

I told her I wouldn’t unfriend her so long as she apologised for wearing the hat and promised me I wouldn’t have to see it in my feed again. 

Terms of surrender. A bold choice.

When she claimed I was trying to police her beliefs, I corrected her, pointing out that my conditions only regarded the hat, not her position on any particular issue. 

Ooh. Terms of surrender with bonus sophistry. That’s bound to go down well. Let’s see:  

When asked to choose between a hat that embodies that evil and someone she’s known half her life,

Wait for it.