Attention, music lovers. Charlotte Gill brings thrilling news:

I knew you’d be keen.

Naturally, all this healing and coexistence, all this righteousness and resistance, necessitates certain rules, indeed a manifesto:

As Ms Gill observes, one eyebrow slightly raised:

Ah, but, you see, it’s “the radical act of collective song.” The “radical act of joy.” And the radical act of shunning white people as some kind of moral contaminant. How the time must fly.

Readers intrigued by the prospect of shaping the tapestry of their collective sound, via “somatic practice,” “singing and healing together,” and “co-creating an anthem,” can savour the results of all this radicalism below:

This is what a “Decolonise Choir” looks and sounds like. Find out more in my new piece https://t.co/gFm6yv2QKo pic.twitter.com/pSaI9301Sx

— Woke Waste (@WokeWaste) July 25, 2024

You may now resume your humdrum, dreary, non-decolonised lives.

Update, via the comments:

Nikw211 asks, not unreasonably,

Indeed. It’s a head-scratcher.

However, as the only racial group being explicitly excluded is Old Whitey, the obvious inference is that the cause of all this alleged misery and “trauma” is the party being excluded. As if the mere proximity of People Of Pallor would inhibit and befoul any creative endeavour, any glimmer of “joy.” Given the minority status of white people in London, it seems a bit much. And ever so slightly ungrateful.

And it is, I think, worth noting that the nation’s capital, where these dramas of “resistance” unfold, has in my lifetime gone from a native white-majority city, over 90%, to a native white-minority one, around 35%. Yet it would seem that even this dramatically downsized white devil population is, for some, still too burdensome and oppressive.

A cause of “collective trauma.”

So, I’ve returned from my travels and I have questions. Among them, why is a planet-wide celebration of athleticism and uncommon sporting prowess being introduced with yet another tedious display of cross-dressing, oddly selective sacrilege, and self-satisfied obesity?

Perhaps I’m missing something. By all means, illuminate me in the comments.

Update, via the comments, where dicentra adds,

I was struck more by the tackiness, the tawdriness of the thing. It just looked so inapt, so adolescent and low-rent. Hackneyed to the point of anachronism. It occurred to me that as a snapshot of a collective cultural psyche, a statement of where we are, or where Our Betters are. it doesn’t instil any great confidence. Or – what’s the word? – oh yes, pride.

Sort of,

I suppose the gender-bending and drag bacchanalia could be construed as some kind of comment on the current Olympic rules regarding who may compete in women’s events – i.e., women, not men. At least, not men who have gone through puberty. So, some men. But not as many as some activists and “allies” might wish. Say, ostentatiously “queer” artistic directors of Olympic opening ceremonies. Maybe even this small concession to physical reality – that men and women are different – was deemed a provocation, an outrage, and a basis for retaliation. As if not being allowed to cheat were a form of oppression.

It’s just a thought. Though not, I think, a wildly implausible one.

Also, open thread.

Brace for turbulence:

Argentina’s first transgender pilot has debuted the new uniform designed for the female pilots of the country’s national airline.

Traniela Campolieto announced his “transition” to passengers during a flight last year, after which one person tried to get off the plane. pic.twitter.com/v1h3Iyl128

— REDUXX (@ReduxxMag) July 20, 2024

And hey, every passenger wants the pilot to be a bewigged, mentally ill fetishist who bangs on about the super-girly tightness of his uniform, and who takes endless, pouting selfies in the cockpit.

To say nothing of the heightened risk of suicidal inclinations. Ah, the thrill of modernity.

Before becoming a shimmering vision of womanliness, Mr Campolieto was a professional bodybuilder, a proverbial brick shithouse. Hence the bad wig, the transformative powers of which may have been overestimated.

Update, via the comments, where WTP adds,

From the above Publica link:

And so, the pilot in charge of 250 tonnes of Airbus A330, and on whom the lives of 400 or so passengers depend, is a man whose perceptions are wildly unreliable, at least regarding himself.

Previously: Banking and mental illness, together at last. Oh, and policing and mental illness. Because unstable personalities, such that a person isn’t entirely sure who or what they are on any given day, are very in right now.

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

I do hope there’s a word for this. || Honest hairdressing. || He didn’t want to taste it. || Niche appetites. || Impossible mission. || I have questions. (h/t, Julia) || And in the world of “queer studies.” || Watering hole. || Calm blue ocean. || Big chest. || Fit birds. || Her baking is more hardcore than yours. || GROW CUBE was a browser game, circa 2005, and still is. || Nottingham’s last wash house, 1977. || More lead-sink excitement here. || Always eat your mushrooms. || Learning environment. || Loud dandelion. || Unsuccessful dine and dash. || Reinvention underway. || Scenes of enrichment. || It’s possible she hasn’t thought it through. || A beginner’s guide to foot massage. || The glamour of flight. || Not unlike a fried egg. || And finally, the world’s first “cold-storage banquet,” Chicago, 1911.

Update, via the comments:

When you livestream your getaway chase following some carjacking and a spot of armed robbery. With your girlfriend and two-month-old baby in the getaway car. But remember, dear reader, the habitually criminal class is just like you in every way, differing in no significant respects. None whatsoever.

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From transgender Reddit, a new niche woe. Specifically,

And more specifically,

We’re all learning things today.

Again, learning things.

Ooh. So close.

In subsequent replies, the similarly traumatising terms gock and bussy are also pondered, along with girldick and female penis. And yes, these will be on Friday’s test.

Other commenters suggest a policy of coyness on the subject:

The terrible wrongness of terminological appropriation crops up, as do thoughts as to which terms are most affirming of a gentleman’s state of ladylikeness. Another contributor, a “genderfluid he/she/they,” insists that, as one would obviously defer to a person’s pronouns, one should likewise defer to that person’s preferred terms for their genitals. Because discussing the other person’s genitals is a thing that happens, apparently.

Those unschooled in the world of transgender penis discourse will find much to chew on.

Via Eliza Mondegreen.

Also, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.