Cheeeldren of the niiight. || Enchanted instrument. || You want one and you know it. || Know your moons. || The thrill of surface tension. || Firefighting garments of note. || The Guardian, ladies and gentleman. || Effective, if not always elegant. || It ain’t pretty, but it flies. || If you laugh at this, you’re a terrible, terrible person. || Big beasts. I said beasts. || This is one of these. || Wet hands and Satie, together at last. || Pay slip of note. || On the origins of circumcision. || Remember when the ACLU wasn’t entirely ludicrous and unhinged? || Hey, it could happen. || You may need to give it a minute. (h/t, Damian) || Seafront views. || And finally, while on holiday in France, a family’s luggage goes astray.

“This is us taking the high road. This is us trying to create a world filled with love.”

Ami Horowitz mingles with the bedlamites: 

Feel the love. 

An open thread, I mean.

Oh, and via Julia, a reminder that those real-world consequences can really chafe your cheeks. 

The learning curve continues.

Scenes. || Cornering of note. || It’s all kicking off down at the pet shop. || Fair point. || Her animal sculptures are smaller than yours. || Because you would and you know it. || She’s a big girl. || At last, bugs with tiny cameras. || The dad-power to embarrass. || Pecking order detected. || Today’s words are Portland attorney. || Tokyo, 1913. || On the A-12 Archangel. || How to make a neat square of water. || How to make iced tea. Also, hardened water blocks. || Build your own imaginary Medieval city. (h/t, Things) || This just in. (h/t, Holborn) || They cope surprisingly well, all things considered. (h/t, Damian) || Our betters hold forth. (h/t, Darleen) || And finally, a beatboxing Buddhist churns out chill loops.

From a needlessly indulgent New York Times piece on Robin DiAngelo and her fellow clown-shoe race-hustlers:

[Marcus] Moore directed us to a page in our training booklets: a list of white values. Along with “‘The King’s English’ rules,” “objective, rational, linear thinking” and “quantitative emphasis,” there was “work before play,” “plan for future” and “adherence to rigid time schedules.” Moore expounded that white culture is obsessed with “mechanical time” — clock time — and punishes students for lateness. This, he said, is but one example of how whiteness undercuts Black kids. “The problems come when we say this way of being is the way to be.” In school and on into the working world, he lectured, tremendous harm is done by the pervasive rule that Black children and adults must “bend to whiteness, in substance, style and format.”

Well, that’s one way of looking at it. A perverse and pernicious way, I’d suggest, and an obvious blueprint for degrading, perhaps irreparably, the lives and opportunities of those sufficiently credulous to internalise it. Unless, of course, the cultivation of tardiness, self-absorption, and lack of focus, along with a disregard for deadlines, standards and obligations, and a disdain for reciprocity, will somehow catapult minority students into gainful employment. But such is the way of the woke. Or of “equity transformation specialists,” in Mr Moore’s case.

One might instead argue that this supposedly “white” “obsession” with “mechanical time” – which is to say, basic foresight and punctuality – or just adulthood – has very little to do with oppressing the negro, as Mr Moore claims, and rather more to do with courtesy and treating other people as if they were real, just as real as you, and no more deserving of delays, frustration, or gratuitous disrespect. It seems to me that punctuality is not only about getting things done, about practicality and cooperation, but about getting over yourself. And presumably, Mr Moore – the one reducing black children to strange and otherly beings, unmoored by mere temporal concerns – would prefer his payments for this claptrap, aired to teachers and school administrators, to materialise promptly. Not, say, three weeks late. Or hey, whenever.

Update, via the comments: