i like to play and draw

A. Cigarettes to eat

B. Bees to eat

The Knights of Guinevere fiasco is really good proof of that. The entire framing of that situation as "people butthurt mad that the author said their headcanon wasn't real" not only doesn't really get across what was actually wrong with the situation but also like, it wasn't a "headcanon"! It was a reading of the text!

Death of the author is not my favorite literary tool, but trans readings of the main character had solid textual evidence for this. This wasn't an imagined reality. If you, you know, actually fucking listened, you would have seen that it was pretty reasonable. I didn't even share the reading when I watched the episode and when I found out about it I went "yeah that seems pretty reasonable actually."

There's a whole discussion to be had about whether the author should have even responded to the question or not, or whether the question should have been asked. I don't need the author's fucking permission to find a transgender reading of a character. I do not need Kim Ji-hoon to come down from the heavens and say "Yes, Ishmael is transgender. You're the most right fan in the entire world. Also you never need to gamble for an ID again."

But now the fact that the creator for KoG came down and said "No that character is not transgender. They're cis" will forever be used as a cudgel to beat over anyone who watches the show and comes to the same reading. It will forever be a tool to hit trans women with who want to see themselves reflected in characters. That was the problem!

Like, he's the epitome of self-interest; the closest thing real life can produce to a Randian hero. And by any reasonable standard, he's won at life! He's the richest man ever to live, and he's getting richer; he controls the channels of information and communication; the government of what remains the world's only superpower waits on his command. If capitalism had a victory condition, he would surely have achieved it. And yet...

He's empty. He's an absolute sucking void of neediness. His own children hate his guts. He pays professional gamers to run up impossibly high scores in every game under the sun because the pale glow of being praised by epic bacon chuds online is the closest thing that he can feel to love.

A screenshot of a post on Twitter by author Joyce Carol Oates, dated November 8, 2025. She writes, "So curious that such a wealthy man never posts anything that indicates that he enjoys or is even aware of what virtually everyone appreciates— scenes from nature, pet dog or cat, praise for a movie, music, a book (but doubt that he reads); pride in a friend’s or relative’s accomplishment; condolences for someone who has died; pleasure in sports, acclaim for a favorite team; references to history. In fact he seems totally uneducated , uncultured. The poorest persons on Twitter may have access to more beauty & meaning in life than the 'most wealthy person in the world.'"