as a child i assumed that marthaâs vineyard was a fancy private vineyard owned by martha stewart and the reason rich people vacationed there was because they were friends with martha
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It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghostsâskeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredientâthe cannabisâwas donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Maryâs brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Clubâthe first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
I'd be only too happy to do that. I was suspicious to start, too. It seemed a bit on the nose to have the weed brownie grandma named "Mary Jane," but also, that's a very common combination in a certain place and time, so I thought it was worth the extra effort.
What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.
Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.
The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.
Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.
The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.
Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)
Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.
...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.
I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.
My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!
She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.
The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.
The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.
Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!
We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:
...wow. I should see if my library has that!
The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.
There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.
Okay so I'm doing background information comes first bc this is the order I learned it in and it's such a conservation rollercoaster
So the Galapagos Islands off the coast of Ecuador are home to some of the largest tortoises in the world. Huge. Beautiful. Iconic.
What I didn't realize is that, just like Darwin's finches all adapted unique beaks for conditions on the different Galapagos Islands, different islands have their own unique variety of giant tortoise!
But bad news for tortoises, in the 1700s-1800s whalers and other sailing ships would stop in and grab as many tortoises as they could carry as portable snacks bc the tortoises can live a few months without eating, so they make good fresh meat in a long voyage??? And it turns out if you keep doing this, even if you start out with 20k tortoises on an island, eventually you run out.
So on Pinta Island, for example, everyone thought their tortoises were extinct bc no one saw any after the early 20th century, but surprise! Out of nowhere in 1971, a big beautiful boy appears!
Enter Lonesome George. Look at that neck!!!! He's the only Pinta Island Tortoise in the world and scientists and conservation experts are scrambling to figure out what to do! We thought they were extinct but now there's just One More???
So everyone's studying him and trying to get him a girlfriend and hoping somehow we can have a miracle and try to bring back this tortoise from the razor's edge of extinction.
Unfortunately, George never had offspring. He passed away in 2012, and the Pinta Island Tortoise was once again declared extinct. He was already full grown when he was discovered, so he could have been anywhere from 80-120 years old.
So this is the low point in the story. No tortoises, no chance. Until!!!!!!! 2015! Down on Isabela Island, near Wolf Volcano. What sort of tortoises are these? They have these crazy hump shells, not like the native Isabela Tortoises should have....
Turns out!!!!! There's a bunch of hybrid tortoises down here, but they have a ton of features and genetics from our bestie the extinct Pinta Island Tortoise!! We know from historical records that sometimes sailors would pick up tortoises on one island and drop them off on another.
So then it's like,, can we breed these descendant tortoises to get more Pinta features and reintroduce them to the right island ??
On Wolf Island, more out-of-place hybrid tortoises have been spotted! (This is... early 2000s?) These ones look distinctly like the Very Incredibly Extinct tortoises from Floreana Island
We're talking, like, some of the most recent sightings of these Floreana Tortoises in the wild being recorded by Charles Darwin in the 1830s. We're talking more than 180 years of extinction. And there's little tortoises with the same shell shapes and features wandering around way over on Wolf Island!!!
Again. Sometimes old-timey sailors would drop off tortoises in weird places. But like!!!! These hybrid tortoises are descended from the Floreana lineage!! No one has seen these suckers in two centuries and their little descendants are still alive and kicking!
Now, Floreana Island,,, got put through the wringer. Ecologically, it was just a mess. We're talking a bajillion invasive species, species going extinct left and right. It was one of the most frequented islands by whalers back in the day, and it's taken decades of hard work to even begin to undo the damage. There's a reason the Floreana Tortoises went extinct, that's all I'm saying.
But so now we have these Floreana lineage tortoises (not pure Floreana Tortoises blood, that's gone now, but very close!) and we've got a Floreana Island that's been cleaned up and a whole team of ecologists who are very, very excited.
It's going to take a lot of planning to reintroduce these tortoises, though. We've got 15 of these Floreana lineage tortoises who still have a mix of traits, we want to end up with thousands of tortoises, and we can't just stick tortoises back on Floreana yet bc the invasive rats, feral cats, dogs, etc all love eating baby tortoises and tortoise eggs
So thus begins a decades-long project to raise sturdy tortoises with as many Floreana traits as possible and get them big enough to safely release onto an island that's still trying to get its rat problem under control.
All of this culminating in the release of 158 tortoises (aged 12-14, so they're all big enough to stay safe) on February 20th, 2025
After nearly 200 years without any tortoises on the island, Floreana had its tortoises back!
The young tortoises, each weighing between 30-50 pounds, had to be carried to the release site on foot by park rangers and volunteers. (link to video)
So much work went into preparing for this day, and this isn't the finish line! The Galapagos Conservation Trust plans to release hundreds more tortoises in the coming years, and to continue efforts to rebuild the ecosystem! Other native animals are making a comeback, like the Galapagos Rail, a bird who hasn't been seen in 190 years! We thought it was extinct!!! But as the island recovered they've reappeared!
There's so much thought that's gone into releasing these tortoises. They released them in February to take full advantage of the rainy season. The long term plan to handle the rats is timed to wrap up in the next 12 years before the new Floreana Tortoises are old enough to lay eggs. This is such a huge win for conservation in general and Galapagos conservation in particular!!!! This is groundbreaking, and it happened 12 days ago.
So for today, there's no Pinta Island Tortoises on Pinta Island. They're still extinct, and Lonesome George was the last pure-blooded Pinta Island Tortoise.
But two weeks ago there weren't any Floreana lineage tortoises on Floreana Island either. Things will never be exactly the same as before, but the ecosystem and the birds and the grasslands are going to love those tortoises. Recovery takes time, and nature is incredible at bouncing back, especially when people are willing to help move things along.
I really do believe that one day, Pinta Island will have charming, long-necked and bowed-backed giant tortoises again. I feel so grateful to live in a world of amazing creatures, and amazing people who dedicate decades to helping them.
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Possibly my spiciest take is that it's actually good to have people you respect and like that have some dogshit takes.
I think part of what is making young people lonelier, in discussing why they're increasingly isolated, is that they're so afraid of meeting someone who doesn't hold their same beliefs, and instead of being just core beliefs it is kinda ancillary shit.
It's actually okay to disagree even on social topics! Even on some political ones! But I mean, online you can start with "i love this mutual but they have a really bad/uninformed opinion about x media"
I know this is IMMEDIATELY going to be taken in bad faith, and yes babygirl, you are so right, I DO want you to go make best friends with both the KKK grand wizard AND your nearest nazi leader.
But seriously, as someone who has spent two decades doing community organization: finding ways to connect with different people is so so so important. There are people i follow here who ate 80% smart and their brain falls out of their head 20% of the time and that is GOOD FOR MY MENTAL ECOSYSTEM AND GOOD FOR LEARNING HOW TO BE A PERSON
Truncated text of tweet from MrPitBull, Mar 11, 2026:
She kept finding women in laboratory photographs from the 1800s. Then she read the published papersâand every single woman had vanished. Someone had erased them from history.
Yale University, 1969.
Margaret Rossiter was a graduate student studying the history of science. She was one of very few women in her program.
Every Friday afternoon, students and faculty gathered for beers and informal conversation. One week, Margaret asked a simple question: "Were there ever any women scientists?"
The faculty answered firmly: No.
Someone mentioned Marie Curie. The group dismissed itâher husband Pierre really deserved the credit.
Margaret didn't argue. But she also didn't believe them.
So she started looking.
She found a reference book called "American Men of Science"âessentially a Who's Who of scientific achievement. Despite the title, she was shocked to discover it contained entries about women. Botanists trained at Wellesley. Geologists from Vermont.
There were names. There were credentials. There were careers.
The professors had been wrong.
But Margaret's discovery was just the beginning. Because as she dug deeper into archives across the country, she found something far more disturbing.
Photograph after photograph showed women standing at laboratory benches, working with equipment, listed on research teams.
But when she read the published papers, the award citations, the official historiesâthose same women had disappeared. Their names were missing. Their contributions erased.
It wasn't random. It was systematic.
Women who designed experiments watched male colleagues publish results without giving them credit. Women whose discoveries were assigned to supervisors. Women listed in acknowledgments instead of as authors. Women passed over for awards that went to male collaborators who contributed far less.
Margaret realized she was witnessing a pattern that stretched across centuries.
Women had always been present in science. The record had simply pushed them aside.
She needed a name for what she was documenting.
In the early 1990s, she found it in the work of Matilda Joslyn Gageâa 19th-century suffragist who had written about this exact phenomenon in 1870.
In 1993, Margaret published a paper formally naming it: The Matilda Effect.
The term captured something that had been hidden in plain sight for generations. Once you knew the term, you saw it everywhere.
Her dissertation became a lifelong mission.
For more than 30 years, Margaret researched and wrote her landmark three-volume series: Women Scientists in America. She examined letters, institutional policies, individual careers. She gathered undeniable evidence that women in science had been consistently under-credited and structurally excluded.
Her work faced resistance. Many dismissed women's history as political rather than academic. Others insisted she was exaggerating.
Margaret didn't argue emotionally. She presented data. Documented cases. Patterns repeated across decades and institutions.
Eventually, the evidence became undeniable.
Her research helped restore recognition to scientists who had been erased:
Rosalind Franklin, whose X-ray work revealed DNA's structureâcredit went to Watson and Crick.
Lise Meitner, who explained nuclear fissionâomitted from the Nobel Prize.
Nettie Stevens, who discovered sex chromosomesâreceived little credit.
Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin, who discovered stars are made of hydrogenâinitially dismissed.
And countless others whose names had nearly vanished.
Margaret changed the narrative. Science was no longer just the story of solitary male geniuses. It became a story of collaboration that included women who had been written out.
The Matilda Effect became standard terminology. Scholars used it to examine how credit is assigned, how authors are listed, who receives awards, who gets left out.
i will be honest i am so torn about the m/m shipping thing. i see m/m shipping as a refuge from the misogyny perpetuated on women both in real life and in fiction, so i write a LOT of fanfiction for m/m ships. i sometimes write f/f or f/m side ships, or even main ships (i've written a lot of female dragon age characters, for example). i just write for m/m a lot more. writing f/f or f/m means reckoning with whatever misogyny they experience in their canons, like imagine being a fan of the women in The Pitt and wanting to make fanworks set in the canonverse but not having to deal with its misogyny. R-I-fucking-P, my condolences. and canon or not, writing f/m is even worse than f/f because tropes that aren't inherently unequal in a same-gender ship suddenly look a little different with the lens of real world gender based discrimination and violence put over them. fandom is my escape and my refuge, so i just plain don't want to reckon with the forces making my real life worse daily in every fic if i can avoid it. it would suck all the joy out of it.
having explained my reasoning, i still feel like a hypocrite. i have a lot of opinions about female characters and ships and the way they are so poorly treated, and i want better for female characters and female ships - but i rarely am the one to put my money where my mouth is and make stuff for them.
i don't know how to reconcile this. i'm sending this ask because i bet i'm not the only person struggling with this issue, and i wanted to support anyone else who feels the same way. loving female characters can be tough no matter how genuine.
look. no one is telling you not to write m/m fics if that's what you enjoy. this is fandom, it's for fun, and this blog is not about making people feel bad for things they like. with that said, i personally really don't agree with the argument that m/m is the only possible refuge from having to deal with misogyny.
writing about women doesn't have to be about misogyny if you don't want it to be. i mean you could make a similar argument that because m/m is about queer men, you necessarily have to deal with homophobia if you write yaoi. but a lot of people don't do that because it's fanfiction. you can write about whatever scenario you want and deal with whatever issues you're comfortable dealing with. you gave the pitt, as an example, right? write about mel and santos having crazy omegaverse sex after singing karaoke together; write an au where aliens exist and mohan and mckay go on a date in a spaceship (look we all have our crack ships, this one's mine, leave me be); write about dana missing collins so much that she moves to portland to be with her. get creative, go crazy. i just really dislike the idea that it's impossible to write women in a fun escapist way.
another issue i have with this idea is that often the male characters being shipped in popular m/m ships are themselves misogynistic. so, for example, the two most popular ships for the pitt, at least according to ao3 numbers, are robby/whitaker and robby/abbot. now robby is a character that i personally really like and enjoy, but i don't think there's any denying that he's sometimes casually misogynistic (and a little racist) in a condescending old liberal white guy way. so when you say writing m/m frees you from writing about misogyny, what do you do about robby or dean winchester or any other beloved male character who is pretty obviously misogynistic. do you only have to deal with misogyny if a character experiences it, but not if a character perpetuates it? i don't really get that logic.
also, i understand if you turn to fanfiction for escapism from real world issues, but speaking for myself, i sometimes like seeing characters deal with misogyny in fic. i think it can be pretty cathartic to see people actively confront the systemic ways they're mistreated. i totally understand that not everyone enjoys that sort of thing, but i must assume that at least some m/m shippers do actually enjoy it, because i know a lot of m/m fic does actually address how homophobia affects its characters. so if we can do that for homophobia, why can't we also do it for misogyny and racism and ableism and other kinds of bigotry?
again, i'm really not trying to call you out or anything, anon. like i said, if m/m is what you enjoy writing for, then the last thing i want is to make you feel bad about that. but i do think that there are plenty of ways to engage with f/f and f/m without having to deal with misogyny if you don't want to, in the same way that people write about m/m without really engaging with homophobia (or misogyny for that matter). and i kind of resent the idea that the presence of women in a story necessarily sucks the fun out of it.
An important part of fighting against AI is to engage with artwork that can't be made by AI. Sing with friends, go to live concerts, make handcrafts, see a live theater show. It sucks that there are certain artforms--digital art, writing, recorded music--that can be easily faked by a machine, but there are still artforms that you can know aren't from a machine because the people are right there in the room with you. It's imperfect, it's amateur, it'll never get a huge audience, but it's also local and personal, and that's something beautiful that's much harder to corrupt with machines.
I am living for these posts that donât just say, âAI is bad,â (though we do need informational pieces too,) but propose hope and avenues for going forward. The joy in homespun, unpolished creativity,especially shared creativity, is more enormous than many people remember day-to-day.
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i love you friendship and qprs and best friends and friends with benefits and mentorships and roommates and found family and surrogate parents and chosen siblings and rivalries every single specifically and actively nonromantic dynamic that exists
"this is an inaccurate adaptation" okay but is it good "this didn't happen in the book" does it make sense in the context of the new work though "they totally changed the plot" and is the new one good or bad "it's completely different" not what I asked "they changed all the stuff I like" then I get why you wouldn't be into it but I'm asking about its own artistic merits "this character is meant to be blonde" I couldn't give less of a fuck
this is why i'm so frustrated with the recent spate of adaptations of historical novels, jane austen in particular. it's not that 'this character isn't meant to be blonde'"' it's that they completely reinterpret major plot elements for reasons that often boil down to 'we don't think the audience is smart enough to see why this is relatable on its own,' and thus, entirely change the story in ways that make it nonsensical.
i like to use the 1995 miramax adaptation of emma as an example when i talk about adaptations. is it an exact scene-by-scene replica of the book? of course not. do i have issues with the way emma, as a character, is interpreted in the film? yes. is it a perfect recreation of the book itself? it is not. is it true to the book? 100%, in all of the ways that matter.
(i will also die on the hill that the '95 miramax emma is one of very fewâany?âadaptations that actually made harriet prettier than emma, and in period-appropriate ways!)
i've never yet seen an adaptation of emma that ever really gets the character of frank churchill or how he relates to jane fairfax correct (it's almost always weirdly wedged in), and yet, in the '95 adapatation, it's mostly there on-screen, even if it's not spelled out. they did the best they could within the narrow confines of the script and the limited run time. the bbc miniseries from '96 does frank and jane a lot better than most, but that mostly boils down to time. and while the 2020 adaptation is excellent overall, the way they portray john and isabella knightley is an example of something being done for laughs but was completely the wrong choice to make, to say nothing of mr woodhouse himself. and that's well before we even get to weird casting choices.
i just feel like a lot of recent adaptations of historical classics are done not because the filmmakers have something new to say but to make them palatable for a young 21st century audience who won't bother to understand what made previous adaptations any good, it's just about injecting 21st century ideals and mores into stories that were never meant to accommodate them. i'm yet to see a perfect adaptation of, well, anything, but these are so far from the mark they're actually misleading as to the source material. and if you're not doing it in conversation with the source material, what's the point? if you're not doing it out of love, why bother?
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reading this deposition that just got dropped where someone sued musk and ohhhh my god it is this funniest thing ever . i can see why his lawyer tried to keep this confidential . theyâre both maybe the biggest idiots . this is like ace attorney
genuinely first two pages he says that he thinks benâs lawyer is the one who is actually suing him and admits he has no clue what the lawsuit is about .
I don't think Mark can ever top "INDEED, MR. JONES, INDEED" and "AND THAT IS HOW I KNOW YOU LIED TO ME" from the first Sandy Hook trial in Texas (not to be confused with Chris Mattei, the attorney in the Connecticut trial), but this part
MR. SPIRO: Do you give these lectures at all of your depositions?
MR. BANKSTON: I do, and you can watch them.
is ESPECIALLY hilarious to me having listened to multiple depositions Mark has had to take in the Sandy Hook case, where he has needed to lecture EVERY. SINGLE. ATTORNEY. at some point in the case about how they're violating Texas Rule XYZ, because they all, to a one, did something seriously ethically questionable during the deposition.
like, YOU CAN WATCH/LISTEN TO HIS DEPOS. HE DOES HAVE TO GIVE THOSE LECTURES EVERY TIME. IT'S NOT EVEN A JOKE.
this may have been pointed out already, but for those who might not know, what both the crappy attorney and elon musk are trying to accuse mr bankston of is basically filing a frivolous lawsuit to make money off his client, ben brody. that's why musk keeps claiming that bankston is the actual plaintiff, he's just too stupid to know how to put that into words.
musk and his lawyer responded to actual, verifiable, written-down evidence (the stuff musk said on twitter) for all and sundry to see that elon musk comitted, at the very least, libel, and they're basically like, 'nah, he didn't do that, you're just trying to convince your client that he was discriminated against to make money.'
and i'm not saying that doesn't happen in american law because it does, but in this, of all cases? where there is written fucking evidence?! and a million people saw it and therefore can corroborate?!
I ended up having a really interesting conversation with some people at the bus stop today. They were getting out of some sort of âclean and soberâ meeting and had starting saying how they were so bored because they didnât have anything to do, and had to stay at home because all their old friends would pull them back. So I said something like, âSo this is the time to do all the stuff your parents told you they didnât have money/time for!â
âWhatcha mean?â
âYou know, like when you were five and you REALLY wanted to have that toy or do that thing and you were like, âPlease mom please I gotta have this I gotta go do thisâ and they went âHell no you think Iâm paying for that do you want to goddamn EAT?â â
And this light went on in their eyes. The lady is going to go check thrift stores for an Easybake Oven and I told her about Wilton cake decorating classes. The dude is going to Griffith Park and ride horses, because, âI always wanted to be a cowboy, and you canât drink when youâre on a horse âcause youâll fucking die!â
Fuck it. This is what being an adult is. Sure itâs bills and work and relationships, but damn it, itâs also time to do the things you LIKE.
I signed up for a free class/lecture on Water Gardens. Iâm going. Itâs time.
no joke, this is such an important aspect of overcoming trauma. I mean the trauma of abusive parents, the trauma of broke ass parents who got toxic because of it, the trauma of capitalism. Like fuck it. Go to Wrestlemania. Build a shit ton of terrariums.
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