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The "throwing dildos at the concentration camp is actually dadaism" discourse is missing something kind of vital about dadaism which is that the art made for it was disseminated in magazines, on posters, etc for the civilian population and not sprung upon the people locked in the camps. There is literally no reason to hold an "absurd protest" at the camps unless your point is literally to prove how close you can get to them as a sort of threat. Which this was not.
I really think the aimlessness around the American left as a whole is its undoing. There's this sense with everything from these actions to no kings that "doing anything is better than nothing" which... Idk guys at this stage in the game it's really not. We have to start doing something. A lot of people are going to die if we keep wasting time coming up with the funniest way to own conservatives. The funniest method I've seen actually involved a guy getting shot in the neck.
Worth noting that the assassination was committed by a guy even further right than Charlie Kirk was. Come on, guys, we're getting out-effective-protested by the fascists.
I know we can do better. Our community game is on point (as shown in Michigan against ICE) and we've (probably) got the Claims Adjuster (who isn't Luigi Mangione, Luigi is both extremely attractive as well as innocent) but we can do more.
It went well! At least 100 people attended, families dogs a solid portion of Glasgow's trans community. There was a really lovely atmosphere, nice weather and a very cheerful celebratory vibe.
After short speeches from the ballhaver and the large dyke (my wife), the ballhaver was given a chupa chup and blindfolded (execution style). The balls were then duly kicked; it made a surprisingly loud dull thumping sound. She fell to the ground to loud cheers and there was a moment of silence while Taps played on the flute. The large dyke wore solovair urban hikers.
Arrived early to find the crowd already gathering, so the kick got off to a prompt start. Following some introductions from everybody and some cheery folk music from our flautist (my wife!) we got on with the kick.
I think we got good contact, the top of my boot making a good solid noise on impact. Very good atmosphere all round, people stayed to chat for a while. Were it not January it would have been an excellent opportunity for a picnic.
10/10 queer event, would happily kick anybody in the balls in the name of community.
7am: the pressure is getting to me; I wake up and drink half a bottle of diet iron bru from my bedside table; roll out of bed, and psych myself up in the mirror - "you can do this my little pogchamp" I say to myself over and over until I decend into a stupor.
8am: I play an hour of Okami on steam to replenish my chi levels
9am: I look at my balls for a while
10am: I spend 20 or so minutes trying to decide what to wear before realising it's the subartic in midwinter and I'm going to have to dress for -2C° regardless of what I choose and opt of my trusty black Schott thermal padded winter flight jacket and a pair of loose, warm Uniqlo trousers to give my testicles room to breathe.
11am: crashing out, texting my friends to arange a substitute kickee, an understudy, anybody so I can just become one with the crowd and not go through with it
12am: the homies have arrived, I'm drinking redbush tea in a small cafe by the park; god is in his heaven and all is right with the world
12.15: "you must be here to watch me get kicked in the balls?"
12.40: a circle emerges, from within the circle a palpable energy focuses like a lens down unto me and I feel like I'm gonna pee my pants a little
12.50: cheers begin, several complete families with dogs arrive - more friends appear and assort themselves into a gathering of 'real heads' ready to watch my groin be dessicated by the firm lace of a women for woman woman with a foot loosed through the gates of war as Augustus saw fit the dispatch and return of his troops from far corners through the blessings of Janus.
12.55: I think I left the stove on
1pm: Short introductions are made, grace is shown, beautiful flute music accompanies the gathering
1.03pm: what is left of my dignity disappears up my inguinal canal; I fall to the ground and languish a moment. I can feel it more in my lower chest than I can in my groin but the humour and adrenaline lift me and I'm laughing on my feet again soon. I kneel for the last post.
I am so utterly fascinated by “Saki”, the 18-year-running mahjong manga in which you, the reader, become gradually, frog-boilingly aware (over the course of nearly two decades’ worth of mahjong tournaments) that none of these girls are wearing underwear and most of their boobs are slowly expanding.
I need you to understand that I have, like, an anthropological level fascination with this comic. From the perspective of someone who is also a comic artist and writer, two things delight me about it:
the fact that I understand completely how an artist gets from “the fans can have a little hint of skirted asscheek” to “the pussy is completely out on center page” over the course of 18 years; and
the way in which the pussy being out is treated by the characters and diegesis as being utterly unremarkable.
Okay. Point 1. The frog-boiling.
Let me put this in perspective for you. There was already a meme about how the characters in “Saki” don’t wear underwear when I was in middle school. I am thirty now. Okay? And it’s still going.
In the time since, this has stopped being a joke. It is now indisputable canon. This is not because anyone outright says it at any point. It’s because the underwear ran out of places to hide. I’m obsessed with this thought: somewhere in the over 20 volumes of “Saki”, there is a panel in which underwear was objectively deconfirmed. And it would be so hard to figure out where that panel actually is. Maybe the artist didn’t even realize it when she drew it! The frog? Boiling!!
And of course there is also the breast expansion. I don’t know how to put a spin on this. They are just expanding. Like, this happens a lot with artists: you define a character as being, in your mind, “the one with the big boobs”, and over the years you emphasize that trait further and further so that the signal doesn’t get lost in the noise. It’s just that normally—in like a wildly popular manga series about mahjong published by literally Square Enix, for example—normally there would be a point at which the boobs stopped getting bigger. Like, an editor would step in or something. Or you would get to the point where you cannot draw the character in the same panel as her mahjong tiles without her breasts spilling over the tiles, and you’d go, “Well, this is now untenable.”
That did not happen. There is no ceiling. The frog is soup.
Point 2. The complete and utter mundanity of all of this.
It’s like this, okay: there’s no shortage of trashy ecchi manga out there. There’s a million other comics doing wildly bawdier things with wildly more improbable bishoujos.
The vibe with “Saki” is different.
It’s hard to explain this, but it feels like the world of the comic is fundamentally uninterested in the fanservice happening on the page. I cannot describe it as “leering”, because I cannot conceive of a person in the story from whose point of view one would leer. I think the artist is probably into it—I can’t imagine anyone is making her do this—but “Saki” the comic has no opinion on the matter.
There are essentially no male characters in “Saki”. Like, there was one guy? Kind of? At the very beginning? But he is gone now. They put him back in the toybox. He does not exist. It appears to be some level of canonical that in the world of “Saki”, almost all humans are women. Those women are sometimes romantically into each other. According to comments the artist has made on Twitter (which I cannot source), they have lesbian baby technology, so it’s no problem. It’s so much not a problem that the story is about mahjong, instead of any of that.
So, like, the fiction here appears to be this: this is the, like, meta-narrative of the fanservice of “Saki”, right: it’s just normal that they don’t wear underwear and their boobs are arbitrarily big. It’s been normal. It was normal before the story of the manga began. It’s just how things are. Nobody bats an eye about it, and if they do, it’s in sort of a lesbian kind of way so like what’s the problem, we love lesbians here. This is literally normal for girls.
The fanservice simply diffuses into this all-encompassing aura of disembodied, ambient sluttiness. The framing of the panels demands you acknowledge it, and the story demands you already be over it, because it’s mahjong time now, and we’re playing mahjong.
Do you get??? why I’m so fascinated??? Are you not a little enraptured???
Anyway, I have no idea how to end this weird post. I guess the conclusion is that women stay winning????
I have so many questions... How does one SUSPECT a manga character isn't wearing underwear? Like, sure, boobs are front and center amd you can see them get bigger panel by panel but how does this work for panties? Are there just that many upskirt shots?
Also how do you keep a manga about Mahjong going for 18 years, what??
If the author, who has presumably spent hundreds of hours creating this story, isn't going to take it seriously, why the hell should I? Even the author doesn't give a shit.
On the other hand, if the author plays things completely straight, even patently absurd things, I'm at least going to give them a chance.
(What do you mean, the endgame content of the paleolithic farm sim is helping a time travelling college dropout with her street food stall? Sure, fine, whatever, the player character clearly accepted the animal totem magics from earlier without batting an eye, this would just be more weird magic to them)
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And what if rap WAS only about sex, violence, and drugs... what then? Would you be justified in looking down upon it as not being "real" art? What would your justification be? Sex is immoral and taboo? Drugs should never be mentioned outside of D.A.R.E programs? Songs about violence turn children to it? Would you turn that standard to other genres as well? I know you wouldn't, I know you haven't, because it's never really been about the topics explored.
I mean, I'd say the best punk is about politics too - what with the core of the genre being about telling the establishment to fuck itself and giving the anarchist equivalent of a notarized list why - but the point stands. People who don't actually listen to a given genre show their ignorance whenever they talk shit about it, and when they're talking shit about a predominantly black genre they're showing their racism too.
"didn't they already do this with—" no. put them in a slasher film. put them in a BLOODBATH. put this van full of weirdoes in a Texas Chainsaw Massacre scenario i have FAITH in them
not Saw specifically but a slasher with a legit body count. Summer camp slashers are overplayed but I think it really works because it's the type of thing the Scooby gang WOULD get caught up in.
like some of the counselors didn't show up (got got) so the head counselor calls his younger cousin to see if him and his friends can fill in last minute. They show up and they're a bunch of nerds, one of them even has an anxiety dog, and they don't have a big role at first. It seems like the movie is setting them up as cannon fodder.
and then the deaths start and suddenly the nerds are locked the fuck in. The little one with the glasses actually fixed the phone line and is taking stock of all their supplies in case the vehicles go out. The counselor's cousin who seemed like a himbo has set up a perimeter and made makeshift alarms for all the doors and windows, knows all the entry points. The anxious one and his dog are keeping the mood up with the snacks and activities that were supposed to be for the kids, making sure nobody panics and starts making dumb decisions. Somebody tried to grab the redhead and she flipped him over and had him zip-tied before anybody noticed. Weren't they a D&D group or something? What is happening???
What i love about this artist’s depictions of women is even the sexualized ones the woman is always genuinely happy and enjoying herself. Frolicking or making funny faces, she’s living her life and looking sexy while doing it, not sitting in a sexual pose for the audience’s view.
My favorite thing is how Hilda is always doing something and having a BLAST! She’s not posing coyly for anyone, she’s having her own adventures and it’s not about the viewer at all
People do this about all media, and for the same reason: lots of people make an effort to preserve stuff they like, but very few people make a similar effort for things they dislike.
Sturgeon's Law has always applied, but the 10% is still around fifty years later while the 90% is largely gone, so people who don't know better think that the past had all this kickass stuff while today there's so much dreck, and they blame this on the modern world being crappy instead of on poor archival practices.
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Lady Sybil Ramkin sat off to one side, wearing a few acres of black velvet. The Ramkin family jewels glittered in her fingers, neck and in the black curls of today's wig. The total effect was striking, like a globe of the heavens.
I've always loved how Vimes' narration, with regards to Sybil, is always explicit about two things: Sybil is big and fat and strong, and Sybil is the most beautiful person he's ever seen.
i don't actually think star wars is space fantasy. 99.9% of people in the GFFA are just in a regular science fiction story. but also have a low likelihood of meeting a real actual wizard.
like it's a really big setting (whole galaxy) and even pre-empire the Jedi were a single religious order based on Coruscant. and yeah they could have other temples but they clearly don't have an established presence on every planet. plus latent force sensitivity is typically a pretty subtle ability (Anakin was off the shits powerful & his presented primarily as inhumanly good reflexes).
fully plausible to me that most people who don't live on Coruscant (or another planet w a Jedi temple on it) could very easily go through their whole lives without ever meeting a Jedi. less likely that they'd never run into anyone force sensitive but again 'force sensitive' could just mean 'weirdly intuitive' in practice
this is why it's not that implausible to me that as of the original trilogy a lot of people don't believe the Force is a real thing - even when the Jedi were relatively abundant i can believe that a lot of people were like 'oh there's a religious order who believe they have magical mind powers? that's neat I guess'. add in some imperial propaganda about how the Jedi and yeah sure. i can buy that within 20 years everyone's just pivoted away from believing in the force
anyway potential very sharp split in the rebellion between people who never believed in the force/bought into the propaganda/are just too young to remember the jedi order and people who are like no you guys the Jedi could kill people with their brains, I know bcos I was there
the rebellion is pretty clearly pro-jedi (use 'may the force be with you' as a sign-off in mission briefings) but i can easily imagine some rebels being like oh i get it, the force is symbolic right? it's a metaphor for the interconnected nature of life. and then Mon Mothma & co are there like for the last time the force is real and if you don't watch out Darth Vader is going to use it to kill you
I lowkey hate when programs talk to me in a friendly way. "don't worry, nearly there!" Shut up. It should say "loading 64.3% completed. Do not turn off device" and absolutely nothing else. You arent my friend you are computer. Act like it
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every time any highly-regarded artist turns out to be a complete piece of shit a hundred people come out of the woodworks just to say they never liked them/found their work very overrated. omg bestie your sense of aesthetics has suchhhhh a good morality and prediction skills 😍 do you want a little kissy on you forehead.
I've always thought this sort of thing was the height of immaturity. Being incapable of admitting that bad people can make good art is both cowardly and dangerous - if only Good People make Good Art, then it's impossible for a Good Artist to be a predator or a bigot, and that's how people like Gaiman and Rowling get you.
Also, on a more selfish level, you're going to live such a boring life if you immediately discard art from artists who do shitty things. Like, obviously don't continue giving them money - yo ho ho - but Sandman didn't stop being brilliant because Gaiman's a rapist.
I don’t give a shit if you liked Sandman. I didn’t worship your emotional support rapist the way y’all did, I found it annoying and weird that y’all did worship him like that, and if other people have also taken this opportunity to prick holes in the worship of your emotional support rapist, more power to them.
Maybe take a step back and stop putting words in my mouth. I literally just said he was a terrible person, and I'm not the kind of person who gets involved in celebrity culture anyway; he's not my emotional support anything.
What I said was that it's childish to reject a piece of art because the artist is terrible. One shouldn't spend money on such things, but "Good People make good art and Bad People make bad art, therefore the reveal that a person is Bad means their art is retrospectively terrible" is an objectively shit take.
Not to belabour the point, but Sandman is unquestionably one of the best comics ever made, and Gaiman is a terrible person. These facts are both true. Sandman's brilliance has absolutely no bearing on Gaiman's moral state and Gaiman's shitbaggery has no bearing on Sandman's quality.
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