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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (716)

April 12, 2024 134 Comments

Vortex rings, Mount Etna. || Invisible drum kit. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || A brief history of defenestration. || No good deed. || How to deal with insufferable, self-inflated wankers. || Heist movie. || Hygienic button-pushing. || Booty booty booty. || She has jam jars and takeaway boxes containing human brains. || A game of falling balls. A guide of sorts. || “The most unique gift for any man.” || Dragon chicken. || Ladies in a certain line of work. || “The sand is the weight of the artist.” || To send a message to the others, obviously. || Mongolian heavy metal. || Please don’t defecate in my grocery store. I paraphrase, but that’s the gist. || At least the poncho helped a little. || Petrol station scenes. || 1950s Super Panavision 70 Star Wars. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || First impressions, they say.

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Politics Pronouns Or Else Those Poor Darling Paedophiles

Valid And Proud, You Hear

April 11, 2024 49 Comments

And in other this-never-happens news:

We will have to use our collective voices to speak our truth to sway those who are fed up with the far right’s hatred… It’s up to us to use science and show our humanity to convince them and the world that we are not inherently dangerous. 

He just wants to molest little girls, you see, while pretending to be a woman.

Mr Katie Cruz, quoted above, is, he says, a role model for “trans kids,” and has been “working behind the scenes” to “reduce stigma.” That would be the stigma of being bent on child molestation – specifically, molesting girls between the ages of 9 and 13. Just so we’re clear.

It’s a “trans age” thing, apparently. Which seems to mean that our grown man, a man who pretends to be a woman, also likes to imagine himself as a teenager, aged between “13 and 17ish.” So there’s nothing to worry about, you “far-right” bigots. It’s all totally legit and above-board.

Mr Cruz, also known as Cali Miller, goes on to denounce the “harmful rhetoric comparing the LGBTQ community to paedophiles” – and he does this while using the fig leaf of “queer” activism to advance his own predatory, paedophilic ambitions, and the predatory ambitions of others like him. Which, if not exactly coherent, is certainly bold.

“While I’m empathetic toward children and want the best for them,” says Mr Cruz, “I also hold the view that no one should tell others what they can and can’t do with their own bodies.” Or, it seems, the bodies of others. Say, sweet little Sally two doors down.

And so, those of you not yet fully enthused by the prospect of Mr Cruz’s liberation and empowerment will have to “move toward a more progressive and empathetic worldview.” While Mr Cruz himself, despite his claims of empathy, remains utterly selfish regarding the children whose lives would be monstrously degraded by the imposition of his desires. Given the chance.

And because things aren’t quite twisted enough, the paedophilic groups of which Mr Cruz is a member, and whose goals include “reform” of the sex-offender registry and to “achieve protected class status,” frequently deploy the term “social justice.” And how dare you far-right bigots deny such noble beings their child-molestation rights.

Update, via the comments:

Readers will doubtless have registered just how easily the rhetoric of victimhood and “social justice” is appropriated. A phenomenon we’ve noted here many times. As when we were told, in the pages of the Independent, that when paedophiles claim to remain celibate but still search out employment that puts them in regular and intimate contact with children, their potential prey, this is somehow a “social good” and a basis for congratulation. Because every parent wants their child to have a teacher who harbours fantasies of molesting them.

Regarding Mr Cruz, Nikw211 notes this passage from the original article:

“I’ve known for a long time that I was a girl-lover. I’ve always found young girls to be desirable, on an emotional and physical level,” Cruz wrote in 2019. He described how, in 2007, “in the midst of lonely turmoil,” he discovered pro-pedophile advocacy and communities online.

“I read through their heartfelt messages about how much they love and care about little girls. What they were writing was exactly how I felt. And what they preached never changed. They all truly love little girls, just as I do,” Cruz said.

Adding, not unreasonably,

Fuck this shit.

Well, quite. One more time:

heartfelt messages about how much they love and care about little girls.  

That’s the kind of loving and caring that just happens to be abusive and generally traumatising, and which can have serious lifelong consequences for the victim. If another real-world illustration is required, see also this. Though I should point out that it’s not for the faint-hearted.

At which point, I’m going to quote this, on the unconvincing contortions of Dr Ole Martin Moen, and which I recommend reading in full:

We’re also told that we mustn’t assume that paedophiles “desire to harm children,” even though their desires, when enacted, via secrecy and deceit, do harm children, often catastrophically, and even though their enacted desire is, by definition, a violation, a betrayal, an act of monstrous selfishness. “There is no reason to posit intentions to harm, disrespect, or expression of ill will on the part of all or even most paedophiles,” says Dr Moen.

This is despite acknowledging that such experiences leave a majority of victims with “psychological disorders… increased likelihood of drug dependence, alcohol dependence, major depression,” etc. And despite the fact that these consequences are very widely understood, at least in simple terms. And despite the fact that many paedophiles have been subjected to similar abuse themselves and therefore know first-hand the likely consequences.

Hence the stigma, of course. The stigma that Dr Moen and Mr Cruz find so terribly problematic.

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Reheated

Reheated (89)

April 9, 2024 141 Comments

Some items from the archives:

Crotch Funk As Art.

Come, fellow aesthetes. Let us visit the Vienna International Dance Festival.

Sweat is a performance piece by Peter De Cupere, choreographed by fellow Belgian Jan Fabre, in which five dancers spend fourteen minutes rolling about and jumping up and down – naked, obviously – while attempting to fill their transparent plastic overalls with all manner of body odour. “The intention,” we’re told, “is to catch the sweat from the dancers and to distil it. The concrete of the sweat is sprayed on a wall of the dance lab and protected by a glass box. In the glass is a small hole where visitors can smell the sweat.” Yes, you can smell the sweat. 

You’ll Notice They All Wear Shoes.

Militant nudists wave things. Or, “Mommy, what’s a cock ring?”

The denials of any sexual aspect are also unconvincing, especially given that so many of the participants are enthusiasts of fetish clubs and websites catering to people who like public sex and scandalising others, and for whom the whole point is to have an audience, whether titillated or repelled. It’s rather like how the people at last year’s protest claimed they just wanted to be left alone – while squealing for attention on a traffic island in the middle of a busy intersection.

For many, if not most, of the activists, this isn’t even about an enjoyment of being naked per se. It’s about confronting other people with unsolicited nakedness. That’s the enjoyment – it’s a juvenile kink. Being nude in private or among consenting nudists in dedicated bars, clubs, spas, on nature trails, at specialist beaches, etc. – of which San Francisco has plenty – doesn’t give the activists enough of a thrill. Because the people there are willing… Hence the demand to display their genitals in front of random passers-by, including children. An audience is required in order to feel transgressive and it’s pretty obvious that’s what matters. They want to be naked near you. 

Flatter, Mythologize, Rinse, Repeat.

Because, admit it, you miss Laurie Penny.

By all means take a moment to realign your mind with the notion of Ms Penny as a “cyborg” writer and in some way marginalised – “marked as other” – and struggling against the pressures of not being heard. Except of course when she’s on TV, or Five Live, or Radio 4, or when airing her various and bewildering concerns in the pages of the Guardian, the New Statesman and the Independent. 

Vibeslayer.

A song is pondered.

Still, one has to marvel at how the default progressive line is not only tin-eared and wrong, but actually an inversion of the songwriters’ intent. The song isn’t about ignoring or overriding the woman’s preferences, or indeed drugging her – but quite the opposite. Throughout the song, they’re both thinking of ways to delay her departure. Half a drink, another cigarette. And despite the woman running through the list of obstacles to her passion, and saying that she “ought to say no,” because social convention expects her to forego her own preferences, the song concludes with the woman deciding that she’s “gonna say” that she tried to go home but was thwarted by the blizzard.

The two of them then agree, in unison and in harmony, that the weather outside really is terrible. 

Just Surrender To The Will Of Clever People.

Attention, parents. Reading to your children causes “unfair disadvantage.”

Readers may wish to ponder the oddness of the idea that caring, functional parents, parents who make sacrifices for their children, have something to atone and apologise for. That, having done the best they can for their children and having given them opportunities, they have sinned against “social justice.” 

Artists For Gaia.

Our betters sail north at taxpayer expense. Gas is released courageously.

Such was the level of inspiration, some of the assembled artists began to work their creative magic immediately: “Tracy Rowledge constructed three series of ‘automated’ physical drawings, mapping the movement of the boat during the expedition.” For readers of a technical inclination, these ‘automated’ drawings involved suspending a felt-tip pen from the underside of a chair, resulting in random scribble on numerous sheets of paper positioned underneath.

This feat was “REALLY exciting,” we learn, as it “explored movement, time, place and permanence.” The radical innovation also freed the artist to leave the dangling pen and do something more interesting. According to her two brief blog entries, the sum total of her commentary, Ms Rowledge spent much of this liberated time struggling with Greenlandic place names and making sure her fellow passengers knew how “overwhelmed” she was. 

Consider this an open thread.

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Anthropology Dating Decisions Free-For-All Pronouns Or Else

A Failure To Affirm

April 7, 2024 96 Comments

From the Reddit forum r/mypartneristrans, a tale of romantic complication:

Today, my partner of a year just came out to me as a trans woman, and I’m ashamed to say I don’t think I reacted very well. 

The feeling of being, shall we say, misled can do that, I suppose.

It was done over text, and basically consisted of me trying to convince them that their life will be so much harder if they come out as trans, much less a trans woman… I just don’t know what to do. I found them attractive before, what if I don’t now? 

Twist incoming.

I’ve been out as trans man for close to a year and a half now… I’m trans, I’m supposed to be gung-ho about all of this, right? 

Oh my, a spotlight shared. Awkward. Or, “Woman who wants to pretend she’s a gay man is thwarted by male partner now wanting to pretend he’s a woman, resulting in something not unlike straightness, albeit with extra steps.”

As I said, complications.

Readers are welcome to speculate as to whose feelings are more, er, valid in the scenario above.

And before you ask, the outlook isn’t great:

It just seems a lot easier to leave right now because things are already rocky, and this is just a rather large cherry on top. 

Update, via the comments:

Regarding this,

me trying to convince them that their life will be so much harder if they come out as trans, much less a trans woman…

Mags adds,

He she didn’t use her his pronouns. 

Indeed. A notable omission. One that results in finger-wagging from fellow forum regulars:

You do have to respect that SHE is the expert on her own gender, not you, 

It’s a bold claim. And despite which, the person being scolded, a woman who expects to be taken seriously as a man, can’t bring herself to take seriously as a woman her own male partner. There’s no she or her, just a grudging them. Which does rather cast some doubt on the broader enterprise.

Readers who poke through the subsequent replies will note how almost any kind of questioning – even expressions of surprise and concern from an intimate partner – is promptly dismissed as “hurtful,” “transphobic,” and “pretty shitty,” something to apologise for. As if anything short of immediate and gushing affirmation – pretty much any hesitation at all – were an act of wickedness.

Also, this caught my eye:

I think my main fear is them looking like a drag queen? Where you can tell that it’s a man dressed as a woman, and that I don’t find particularly attractive. 

Which is something of a drawback, given the odds on that matter.

One of the commenters then replies that “drag queen is a look,” by which they mean valid, a possible aspiration, and that one should “interrogate those feelings” that looking like a drag queen is probably not ideal.

Via Rafi.

In other, happier news, open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (715)

April 5, 2024 142 Comments

And then he gets indignant. || The Ogmios School of Zen Motoring. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || An unhappy angle. || Notable ceilings. || Cheeeldren of the night. || Coffee time. || Worried cucumber. || Condiment cunning. || “What is in your freezer?” 1976. || They’re made of British. || Because you demanded it, AI music. || I bring you art. Related. || “Someone who is unable to pinpoint their gender due to the stress of the questioning process.” || The progressive retail experience, parts 542, 543, 544, and 545. || Protect your Cybertruck from “electromagnetic pulse disturbances.” (h/t, Things) || Dawn chorus. || “Deeply weird,” indeed. || Question asked, answered. || Children speak of things to come, 1966. || Giraffe and chiropractor. || And finally, scenes of emergency service.

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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.