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This is actually really rare in fandoms. It's incredibly common for fans to villainize female characters who are dating/married to a male character whom the reader wants to ship with someone else, or even who just oppose a male character.

Like the running ----ing joke with Mr Tulip is genuinely one of the funniest jokes in discworld and the one about his antique identification skills is a close second

I think about "The truth will make you fret" typo on a daily basis, and the fact that people only want olds and that the lie has gone round the world while the truth is still getting it's boots on. All the themes about journalistic integrity and the truth have only got more relevant as we've ventured further into the hellscape of social media.

This book was written in the year 2000! Facebook wasn't even a glint in the milkman's eye! You still needed to get your lies from the Daily Mail!

And we get another underrated female pratchett character in Sacharissa Cripslock, who remains normal looking and angry and flawed in a very human way. (most underrated casting from going postal is her as tamsin grieg imo)

I first read this book when I was about 12 and it's still sitting there rearranging my brain chemistry fifteen years later. It's always informed how I relate to the media.

“So Bob said […]” indicates that I am directly quoting Bob.

“Then Bob was like […]” indicates that I am paraphrasing Bob.

“And Bob was all […]” indicates that I am paraphrasing Bob, and additionally I am being a dick about it.

I'm serious.

And the teachers seemed to take that advice to heart, because I have no memories of any teacher saying anything off-putting about math during that time, and the kids I was at school with seemed to view math as just another subject (as they should) instead of some special hell that could only be mastered by geniuses or weirdos, which is an attitude so many people seem to have.

"You're doing it again," Remus said, not looking up from his book.

The large black dog on the sofa whined innocently.

"Don't give me that. You've been Padfoot for six hours straight." Remus turned a page. "It's not healthy."

The dog's tail thumped once, then stilled.

"Sirius." Remus set down his book with a sigh. "Being a dog doesn't make the pain go away. It just delays it."

The dog buried its snout under its paws.

Remus moved to the floor, sitting cross-legged beside the sofa. He'd seen this pattern before—after particularly bad nights, Sirius would transform and stay that way. Simpler, he'd once explained. Dogs don't think about the past. Don't dream in quite the same way.

"I know it's easier," Remus said softly, scratching behind the dog's ears. "I know the world feels less sharp when you have four legs instead of two. But I need my friend back. The human one. The one who makes terrible jokes and burns toast and argues with his mother's portrait."

The dog lifted its head, grey eyes painfully human.

"Please."

The transformation was gradual, reluctant. Sirius emerged looking exhausted, his hair disheveled, still lying on the sofa in the same position.

"The world's too loud today," he whispered.

"I know." Remus kept his hand on Sirius's shoulder. "But we'll be loud together. That's what friends do."

Sirius managed a weak smile. "Even when I'm being pathetic?"

"Especially then."

Night Watch, Terry Pratchett