renaissance in the 21st century
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the WHAT??
okay, found her
some more good replies from the notes
i didnt expect these to hit so hard but then they kept going and going….my god

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@the-barrelrider
renaissance in the 21st century
some more
the WHAT??
okay, found her
some more good replies from the notes
i didnt expect these to hit so hard but then they kept going and going….my god

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“Four decades of feminism later I am reading the comedian Angela Barnes’ blog. “I am ugly, and I am proud,” she writes. She goes on to say: “The fact is I don’t see people in magazines who look like me. I don’t see people like me playing the romantic lead or having a romantic life.” At the top of the blog is a picture of Barnes. And the thing is, she isn’t ugly. Neither is she beautiful. She’s normal looking. She’s somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, just like lots of women you see every day in real life. It made me think of this year’s Wimbledon ladies’ final between Sabine Lisicki and Marion Bartoli. When Bartoli won, the BBC commentator John Inverdale infamously said, “Do you think Bartoli’s dad told her when she was little, ‘You’re never going to be a looker, you’re never going to be a Sharapova, so you have to be scrappy and fight’?” The first thing I thought was: this woman has just won a tennis tournament! And she’s being judged on her looks! And then I thought: but Bartoli is attractive. Sure, she’s not at the very highest point on the scale – she doesn’t look like a top model. But she’s pretty. And, in any case, why should it matter? She’s a top athlete. Surely that’s what counts. A sports commentator refers to a pretty woman as “not a looker”. A normal-looking woman thinks she’s ugly. Why? Because, even though the world is full of normal and pretty women, the world we see – the world of television, films, magazines and websites – is full of women who are top-of-the-scale beauties. And right now, in the second decade of the 21st century, the situation is more extreme than ever. If you’re a woman, a huge proportion of your role models are beautiful. So if you’re normal looking, you feel ugly. And if you’re merely pretty, men feel free to comment on how un-beautiful you are. As a normal-looking man, I find myself in a completely different position. Being normal makes me feel, well, normal. Absolutely fine. As if the way I look is not an issue. That’s because it’s not an issue. As a normal-looking man, I’m in good company. Sure, some male actors and celebrities are very good looking. Brad Pitt. George Clooney. Russell Brand. But many of Hollywood’s leading men, like me, look like the sort of blokes you see every day, in real life. Russell Crowe, Kevin Spacey, Bruce Willis, Jack Black, Seth Rogen, Martin Freeman, Tom Hanks, Steve Carell, Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, Brendan Fraser… In fact, you might almost say that most leading men are normal-looking blokes. It’s true of television, too. Bryan Cranston, who plays the lead in Breaking Bad – he’s a normal. James Gandolfini – he was a normal. And chubby too. Kevin Whately – normal. Ben Miller – normal. TV cops all look normal. Ray Winstone looks normal. Tim Roth looks normal. They portray people who are interesting for what they do, not what they look like. Oh, and think of sitcoms. The Big Bang Theory features four normal-looking blokes and a stunningly beautiful woman. New Girl is about two normal blokes, a guy who’s quite good looking, and two women who are… yes, strikingly beautiful. When I watch the news, on whatever channel, it’s presented by the classic partnership of an ordinary-looking guy and a gorgeous woman. After the news, I watch the weather. Male weather presenters look like standard males. Female weather presenters look like models. Footballers look normal. Footballers’ wives and girlfriends look stunning. Daytime television presenters: men look like Phillip Schofield; women look like Holly Willoughby. A typical Saturday-night judges’ panel consists of two types of people – middle-aged blokes and young, stunning women. Sometimes a normal-looking or ageing woman slips through the net – but then, like Arlene Phillips, her days are soon numbered. Countdown had an attractive woman and an ageing bloke; when the attractive woman began to show signs of ageing, she was axed – replaced by a woman who was, of course, strikingly beautiful. Who presents historical documentaries? Guys like David Starkey. Normals. And what happened when a normal-looking woman, Mary Beard, presented a series about the ancient world? She was mocked for not being attractive enough. In a recent interview Dustin Hoffman, another normal, made a revealing comment. Remember when he dressed up as a woman in Tootsie? “I went home and started crying,” he said. Why? “Because I think I am an interesting woman when I look at myself on screen. And I know that if I met myself at a party, I would never talk to that character. Because she doesn’t fulfil physically the demands that we’re brought up to think women have to have in order to ask them out… I have been brainwashed.””
—
The ugly, unfair truth about looking beautiful (via fucknosexistcostumes)
This is why I get infuriated whenever men talk about how they’re held to unrealistic beauty standards too, because it really doesn’t even compare. Men who aren’t attractive simply aren’t attractive and maybe that’s rough for them, but women who aren’t attractive are barely even people.
(via escapingtoxicjustice)
frodo getting criticized for decades for not doing much / not being a hero compared to sam is fitting when you consider mental health and strength is often trivialized. frodo carried the most dangerous and insidious item in middle earth for YEARS. ancient beings (elves, gandalf, etc) were taunted and tempted by it. boromir was corrupted within weeks without even touching it. men and hobbits turned against their brethren for it. killed for it. and frodo, with a wound from a morgul knife, bore it’s weight when no one else could. had it been anyone else, middle earth would have fallen.
no, he couldn’t have done it without his samwise. but isn’t that a lesson in itself?
i have been shaving my head for several months now and im an old hand at most of the weirdness that comes with it. ive seen so many strange things - a beanie torn in half after i tried brute force yanking it off my stubble, strangers hands gripping my head like a sort of fleshy bowling ball, c-beams glittering in the dark by the tanhauser gate.
but still, sometimes, things surprise me. and i was surprised today. because today an old man approached me at the park. and he said, you know, im a pediatrician.
which is already a weird start to a conversation, because i didnt know that. and maybe i should have just rolled with it, but instead i went
wait. i dont know that. why did you think i knew that?
which didn't even put him slightly off balance.
cuz you're bald, he said, so confidently that i didnt even question it until the conversation was over. now. i was - i was over there, sitting -
and he gestured across the park to a giant pile of soft dirt that had an almost cartoonishly exaggerated ass print on it which derailed me for the second time. right? because whoever sat on that dirt, clearly, had an ass like two coconuts being fired out of a spanish cannon. whereas this man had an ass that could probably only be detected with powerful scientific instruments. i told him this in more succint terms by simply saying that was clearly not his buttprint.
now at this point we'd gotten derailed twice, and as unflappable as he'd been the first time, he was starting to get a little defensive. so he said perhaps someone with a large butt sat down after i got up, and i said why are you lying about where you were sitting, and he said why would i do that? and i said if i knew, i wouldnt be asking, and he said fine, i was driving by - and i said why didn't you just say you were driving by?!?!?!?! and he said because i didn't want you to think i was the kind of crazy person that would just stop his car to tell a stranger in a park that he, as a pediatrician, could tell that your parents REALLY cared about tummy time!
then he left. angrily. he actually stomped back to his car. i dont know when i started laughing but i didnt stop until i got home. my voice is still all scratchy right now. ive been in a little bit of a writing funk but i had to get this down while i could still remember it so perfectly.
and as a tangent, i cannot emphasize enough the benefits of going outside and interacting with the public. it is a constant source of joy. every place on earth is the weirdest place on earth. i will never be able to write a character as fascinating as the people i run into at the park. but god help me, i have to try.

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And thus it was. A fourth age of middle-earth began. And the fellowship of the ring though eternally bound by friendship and love... was ended. Thirteen months to the day since Gandalf sent us on our long journey we found ourselves looking upon a familiar sight. We were home. How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold. Bilbo once told me his part in this tale would end... that each of us must come and go in the telling. Bilbo's story was now over. There would be no more journeys for him... save one. My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Your part in the story will go on.
the lord of the rings: the return of the king (2003) dir. peter jackson
"why do you want to gossip with the girls?" why do i want to learn from the poets, the writers, the thinkers, the scientists, the mathematicians, the intuitive, and the philosophers? is that what you're asking me?
*sigh* fine, fine, i'll be the new doctor who showrunner. bring me two twinks, britain's tallest woman, and 1000 pounds worth of alumininamian foil
the only thing stronger than the gastric distress i get from eating cherries is my love for eating cherries
what
thank you. im once again reminded why i love tumblr because where else could i get content like this
interesting kink assortment on the dash

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they sell items at tjmaxx that even God is not aware of
cow triangles
“Toymaker” as a job description in fairy tale fiction is one of my favourite bullshit occupations. “Dollmaker” is fine, “carpenter who makes wooden toys as a side hustle between jobs” is fine, but so many stories have a character whose entire occupation is described as “toymaker” and is heavily implied if not explicitly confirmed to have made all of the toys in their shop, from wood boats to plush animals to porcelain dolls to music boxes to tin soldiers, all made under the tiny hammer of one person.
And it’s not impossible for one person to be at once a highly talented seamstress and tinsmith and carpenter and clockwork engineer and every other talent in the world that would allow you to build everything from china dolls to rocking horses, but to be all that and then single-handedly supply the whole stock of an entire toy store? In a rural whimsical little fairy tale village?? By themselves???
I do enjoy a good visual gag, and an old favorite of mine is “there is Math on a Board in the background that contextually makes no sense.” This broadly comes in 3 flavors I enjoy:
• the board is in front of a classroom, and the Math is waaay too advanced for whatever level of pupil these kids are supposed to be; like having the calculus integral in front of kindergartners, or relativistic physics in front of high schoolers.
• the board is in front of Criminals, who are Planning Something, and by all rights there ought to be no Math there to begin with. Like. You’re planning a Heist why do you have the Full Lagrangian on there. Are we taking a rocket to the bank.
• the characters are super-genius science fiction people. The Math is “Pi≈3.24” with an unlabeled pie chart.
My boss has a new boss who's been dropping in to check on how different sites are doing and I keep introducing her to the clients by going "This is Hank. Hank, this is my boss's boss, she's very important, please tell her nice things about me" and that's my big Autistic secret to professional networking. Letting them think you're funny

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Three things:
I am glad that in 2026 I find out about twitter from tumblr.
I did not "dance around" the manic pixie dream girl. I sought to write books exposing the dangerous lie that a person is more than a person. The romanticization (mostly by boys) of the Romantic Other is extremely dangerous, and that was a central theme of my first two books. If people read them as MPDG books, then I failed at my first and most fundamental task and I'm sorry.
I did not build the hospital. Nerdfighteria paid for a hospital that Sierra Leoneans built. We paid for the hospital partly through Hank and I donating money, but mostly thanks to the thousands of people who pay for the hospital every month and my brother's stupid but brilliant idea to create Netflix For Socks.
(defense) attorney culture is like the opposite of cop culture. lawyers hate all other lawyers with a barely concealed passion, yes, even their partners at the law firm. no solidarity, 85% drama and 15% social niceties. they’ll hang out together socially on occasion but they hate each other to their core. they’re like betta fish.
cop: Officer Misconduct would do that, he’s a good lawman, he was the best man at my wedding and I’m lucky to have known him.
doctor: I’ve worked with my colleague, Dr. Malpractice, for 15 years now and I have never witnessed the behavior you are describing.
defense attorney: Yeah, that sounds like something that stupid bastard would try. He doesn’t have the good sense to navigate his way out of a wet cardboard box, much less construct a sound legal defense. He has the integrity of a fucking gnat too. When we were in law school 35 years ago, he barfed in the back seat of my Mercedes after a night out and he never paid to get it cleaned. Even his wife can’t stand him. Fucker. I hate that guy.
Aaron Burr & Alexander Hamilton were defense co-counsel on a murder trial 4 years before the duel.