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Nigerian Pride 🏳️‍🌈🇳🇬

When You Look at Dr. Grace

When You Look at Dr. Grace

It's meant to be difficult to discern! The movie is inviting people to really scrutinise the lore, and have to grasp that in times of survival, morality will be cannibalized first. I think the fact that Simon managed to dig through the muck that is The Butcher, and come out cradling his remorse and his hope is such a great character concept, and I'm so glad there's others who see that too!

It's unfortunate that fandoms tend to box characters because I love how utterly messy Simon is. I find it so fun to pull this man apart. He sucks and he's a bitch and he's also the most interesting little bug I'm shaking in my jar right now.

Thanks for the compliments.

Unfortunately, yeah I have to dig through hate sometimes, but it's alright. I'm doing this for the love of the game!

I've repeatedly been "corrected" on calling Simon "evil". I think you're the only other person who has also said it with their full chest. Simon is technically the villain in Iron Lung, from the COI's perspective.

But, see, there's where the nuance hits, because he still does not deserve what happened to him despite that.

I agree with you on that the fandom is having a hard time grasping Simon for what he is. Though, I'm not discrediting the fact that there are many beautiful and wonderful people who have accepted Iron Lung's nuance, and Simon for the kind of monster he once was.

The whole thing is a thought experiment on the audience. There are some people who will be 100% Butcher apologists. There will be people who lean into that middle ground. There will be people who see Simon as someone who deserved what happened to him. Mark knew he would be dividing his audience on that front, and it's glaringly obvious this was a way to start discourse so people would talk about his movie more.

I think that Simon is very strong for choosing to step away from the Butcher, even if it meant surrendering and getting sent straight to hell.

But, ohh yeah, I'm also a messy Simon lover. Love me some muddled emotional turmoil.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

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