This is so sex

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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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This is so sex

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With all the debate over what constitutes real art, we have to figure out first what makes up a real artist. Artists are all around us, often unknown even to themselves. In our society's great moment of need, they will emerge to fight our enemies with the power of the human spirit. Or they might screw around for a few weeks trying to avoid drawing, like, four lines. No one can tell which one we're gonna get, which is what makes art so great.
Indeed, if fantastic art could simply be ordered, all our television would be good. Those executives sitting at the top of the pyramid would wave their hands and demand a 24-episode season of their favourite show, and have it be eye-wateringly phenomenal. Life-changing, why not? Such a thing is an impossible fantasy. Whatever form of alchemy that artists participate in cannot be bottled: even your favourite musicians have turned in a turd album or two, haven't they? No, be honest. They have.
When you see a great work suddenly emitted after decades of procrastination, unease, noodling around, and bad attitudes... that's what it's all about. You were right to bet on this weird freak who keeps trying to jam paint onto a stolen canvas with a palette knife. Only you could see the magic deep within them. That reflected glory is the stuff of legends, and occasionally a few million bucks when you sell off all the crap art they gave you to pay for paint and bread. Or, it never happens, and you have a basement full of worthless kinda-bad watercolours of horses. Those horses are pregnant way more often than you would expect, statistically. Does that make it art?
So we know one thing, at least: a real artist is unpredictable. Unreliable, some might say. Unknowable, others would claim, although that probably just makes artists seem mysterious, aloof, and a little bit dangerous. We're not gonna go that far, it's junk food for the ego. "Unpredictable" is just fine by me. If you think of yourself as an artist, ask yourself if you're fucking up enough. Maybe you've settled yourself into a comfortable little groove, making things on time and to specification. That's not why you're alive. Make those bastards regret relying on you.
oh maaaan I have to pay rent
I want a game that uses Disco Elysium's same insanely well crafted narrative system and wonderful writing but it's about a young witch trying to solve the disappearance of her neighbor's cat in a small village in the Alps, and also Measurehead is there.
Wohnpark Alterlaa - Alterlaa residential park, by Harry GlĂźck & Partner, Kurt Hlaweniczkaand Requat & Reinthaller (planned in 1968, built between 1973 and 1985).
Vienna, Austria.
Š Roberto Conte (2022)
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Talking about medical gatekeeping in trans healthcare really feels like,
"Hey we should stop sending trans people to a fucking exorcist before they're allowed to transition? Since we know, scientifically, that demons are Not Fucking Real?"
"Ok but what if someone regrets transition though?"
"DEMONS ARE NOT FUCKING REAL."
"You really don't care about the possibility of regret?"
"DEMONS. ARE NOT. FUCKING. REAL. THE EXORCIST. HAS NOTHING TO DO. WITH REGRETTING ANY TRANSITION PROCEDURE. ON ACCOUNT OF EXORCISM BEING FAKE AND MADE UP."
"The trans community needs to talk more about transition regret. You have to acknowledge this, or you'll never get anywhere."
Sorry trans people are sent to WHO NOW??
tumblr users having no media literacy:
It is slightly confusing what the analogy is, and yeah it does take some media literacy to figure out
The first thing that comes to mind in place of "exorcist" that isn't literally an exorcist, is that trans people are sent to therapists or psychologists before being allowed medical transition.
a direct analogy here would have OP implying that it's scientifically proven that therapists and psychology are made-up and don't work.
But I think the intention is more like "it's proven that the things they are asked to do in this case don't help and aren't necessary."
Ok so you do realize that gender clinics often employ people whose entire jobs are "figure out if the patient is faking being trans," right?
Like those aren't practicing psychology, and they don't have any meaningful expertise on transition care, which is performed by endocrinologists and surgeons further down the line. The gatekeeper is just some guy who asks how you masturbate and makes a vibes-based judgment on whether the answer means you're faking it.
That's what the analogy is for. The fake made up pseudoscience job.
Nicko Cecchini (Canadian, d.o.b. unknown) - Defensive Measures (2026)
i feel like "feminist" anti-kink sentiment is very tail-wagging-the-dog. like male doms playing out bdsm scenes of abuse are not oppressing their female subs that's acting. you're mad at acting. you're those aliens from galaxy quest. same with fearmongering about "booktok". however an eroticized version of patriarchal dynamics being a popular kink DOES speak to the pervasiveness of sexism, bc eroticizing the oppression is a way of coping with living under it. it's women creating a fantasy world where men being menacing to them is sexy and not scary like it is irl, or where it is still scary but in the fun way like a horror movie bc you can tap out at any time by using a safe word or putting the book down. acting like this sort of kink is oppressing women is like if you assumed the thermometer controlled the weather outside. it might be depressing to look at the thermometer and see the impact of climate change, but it's not the thermometer's fault
Iâm going to have a fucking breakdown
HAAAANK! NO HANK!! THAT'S NOT A BACTERIOPHAGE! THOSE WOULD BE WAY SMALLER THAN A TARDIGRADE! THAT'S A RADIOLARIAN, A TYPE OF UNICELLULAR EUKARYOTIC ORGANISM KNOWN FOR ITS ELABORATE MINERAL SKELETONS! HAAAANK! THAT'S THE WRONG MICROBE!!!

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do i want to come to "the circus"? (apprehensive) describe it with two adjectives first
*clueless guy in 2006 voice* that iPhone? What a piece of junk. People are never gonna use a phone without a keyboard. I wish there was a way I could be a girl
Smoking Piranha - Erika Lee Sears , 2024.
American, b. 1980s -
Oil on wood panel , 16 x 16 in.
 And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them. For there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too, though in the mean time some necessary question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
-- William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Until death, all defeat is psychological.

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one of my top contenders for funniest lines in this game
The tailors at Colonial Williamsburg made a suit for their cat
The best part is that they were inspired by a diary entry from 1775, written by a 12 year old tailorâs apprentice (Edit: Slight correction, he didnât write it when he was 12, this was him recounting an incident from when he was 12, some years later.) who had been left unsupervised all day and decided to make a suit for a cat. Hereâs a link to the blog post about it, but Iâll just paste the whole diary entry here:
âI had been at work about two months when Christmas came on â and here I must relate a little anecdote. The principal [the tailor] and his lady were invited to a party among their friendsâŚwhile it devolved on me to stay at home and keep house. There was nothing left me in charge to do, only to take care of the house. There was a large cat that generally lay about the fire. In order to try my mechanical powers, I concluded to make a suit of clothing for puss, and for my purpose gathered some scraps of cloth that lay about the shop-board, and went to work as hard as I could. Late in the evening I got my suit of clothes finished; I caught the cat, put on the whole suit â coat, vest, and small-clothes [breeches] â buttoned all on tight, and set down my cat to inspect the fit.Â
âUnfortunately for me there was a hole through the floor close to the fireplace, just large enough for the cat to pass down; after making some efforts to get rid of the clothes, and failing, pussy descended through the hole and disappeared; the floor was tight and the house underpinned with brick, so there was no chance of pursuit. I consoled myself with a hope that the cat would extricate itself from its incumbrance, but not so; night came and I had made on a good fire and seated myself for some two or three hours after dark, when who should make their appearance but my master and mistress and two young men, all in good humor, with two or three bottles of rum. After all were seated around the fire, who should appear amongst us but the cat in his uniform. I was struck speechless, the secret was out and had no chance of concealing; the cat was caught, the whole work inspected and the question asked, is this your dayâs work? I was obliged to answer in the affirmative; I would then have been willing to take a good whipping, and let it stop there, but no, to complete my mortification the clothes were carefully taken off the cat and hung up in the shop for the inspection of all customers that came in.â