langwidere: a john uskglass pixelbuddy (i came to my enemies in a RAIN OF QTE)
It transpires that I was somewhat busy this week, so no Sherlock for you. (Also I lost my Sherlock links; I’m pretty sure they’re around here someplace, though, cough.) Next week!

Instead, I submit to you these articles of wank, which I’ve been saving for Valentine’s Season:

1. Ew. I am not judging the book, which looks just as stupid and boring as every other book on this topic — but, I am a little worried about the ad copy, which seems to think that I am romantically desperate, fourteen, and possessed of a very short attention span.
2. Double ew. I am choosing to believe that this one is guerilla satire.

So remember, girls: Stay away from obscenely over-processed, prepackaged junk food/poison and try to maintain a strong, healthy, and athletic physique so that you will be appealing to "boys." (What "boys"? Where are these "boys"? Who are they? Presumably they are Morris Chestnut and Thelma & Louise Brad Pitt.) Because on the fucking internet it’s 1954, and the greatest psychological wound a woman could ever receive is failing to be regarded by strangers as a sex symbol. I know that these people are probably teenagers or in their very early twenties, and therefore biologically obligated to be retarded, but I am kind of offended that their obvious and twatty desire to be fap-objects is being treated as though it is an up-with-diversity, feminist grievance. Ugh. UGH.

Also I am not completely sure that any little girl would ever independently decide that she had to look like Barbie, who resembles a barrel-chested, tanned praying mantis, in order to be loved. Nor am I convinced that little boys find Barbies sexually attractive, yuck. I think that, left to their own devices, most little kids would just want to chew on Barbie’s rubbery feet. That’s what I remember doing with Barbie, most of the time.

And you aren’t allowed to be upset when your nicotine-inflected, drunk boyfriend cheats on you anymore? Really? Like, really? Because that’s going to be #16 on my 'Why Couldn’t You Make Me A Lesbian Like I Wanted, God? You Couldn’t Just Do That One Thing, Could You?' list.

My links are pretty weak-assed, too:
1. A Wonkette Reagan Beans thing. I know, but the comments are pretty funny.
2. An inspiring D.L. Hughley quote, via constantly-hysterical, horny, semi-literate Australian drama queen Yimmy Yayo (he does post some great landscape/historical/animal photos, though).
3. A deeply pathetic NYT article about the "bias" that exists against "conservatives" in the humanities. HAHAHAHAHA.

I’ll do better next time, coach!
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (no idea but real pretty)
My cat had to have one of her canine teeth pulled. Last Wednesday. The other canine tooth is beginning to loosen, too, and will have to come out sooner or later (let’s hope for "later" — I’m actually hoping to wait until it’s almost out on its own and can be yanked with forceps like the first one, because she is almost fifteen years old and has asthma and I don’t want her sedated unless there’s no other option). Of course, she was fine as soon as she got out of the cat carrier when we came from the vet’s office, and I spent four days crying intermittently because I love her to pieces and the only heirloom bequeathed to me by my bevy of Irish-American ancestors is the Sentimental Weeping Idiot gene. (The rest of her teeth are, to quote the vet, "fantastic for fifteen." So, that’s weird, probably, but really good? Please?)

Anyway. So, I still have people’s Christmas presents sitting on the piano. In the future I will invent some kind of new Christmas/Valentine’s Day hybrid celebration in order to clear my conscience in these sorts of situations. I was able to upgrade most of the cards, however. ♥

Loooooooong post. )

1. This Paul Krugman story is hilariously topped with the words "Can Europe Be Saved?" (implication: no!!!!), but it’s actually about the ill-considered adoption of the Euro. It is not interesting, but if you like that sort of thing it could be useful, potentially.
2. This is the very hilarious review of 43’s awesome novel Decision Points, by the London Review of Books. I just now noticed it exists, because it was linked by Wonkette. I am not up in the London Review of Books on the regular.
3. From The Guardian, a piece on the fiction/internets ouroboros which I have not yet finished reading myself.

These are better screenshots of my new boyfriend, who looks, upon close inspection, like he wandered out of Labyrinth, limping, after David Bowie was finished with him. I hope he will be named something like 'Valumphis Stagne.'

This season of American Idol is too boring even for my granny.

On the other hand, this is very funny.
ETA link, because the iframe wouldn’t load.

I recently learned that I am the last person in all the world who downloads fansubs. I think this is because I originally visited Crunchyroll back when it was staffed by, I surmised, photosynthetic multi-celluar plant-people who were heroically fansubbing Naruto despite the fact that they lacked formal brain structures and spoke neither English nor Japanese — and I had my delicate sensibilities offended to an extreme degree. Also, I am not paying for fansubs. Ahaha! HAHAHA! What? Really? Are you kidding me? People are paying for fansubs? Voluntarily? Why? You kids today, with your fancy bullet trains and your Lawrence Welk records and your super-sweet iced tea.

Is that it? I think that’s it.

Next week: Sherlock! Probably. (And the Kindle.)
langwidere: the everything is terrible logo (everything really is terrible)
For some reason — and despite the fact that it is officially the Future, now — we are entering a new ring of the never-ending Circus of Hurrrr! that is the perpetual attempts by various idiots to censor Huckleberry Finn. The latest assault has been launched, apparently, by some sort of professor or something — and they must not be making professors like they used to when I was a kid, because all my English professors were a minimum of 113 years old and they could not have been persuaded, ever, singly or as a group and even upon pain of death, to strike so much as one unnecessary "as" out of the Introduction to Grammatical Principles. Which is what God intended them to do; professors profess, they do not edit for fucking content. But, whatever. Look the story up yourself, it gives me an unwieldy and massive sad.

I understand that people don’t want to look at the word "nigger." I don’t want to look at the word "nigger," either — but, you know, probably the best way to stop being forced to look at the word "nigger" over and over is to make as many people as possible read Huckleberry Finn, unaltered and unabridged. Censorship, no matter how noble its intentions, doesn’t change history. (This is what we’ve been trying to tell Texas all along, you guys. You’re setting a bad example.)

What are we gonna take out next? The bigwords? The prejudicial representations of white Southern characters? The unvarnished portrayal of the horrifying effects of ignorance and poverty? Twain’s loathing for the British aristocracy? References to smallpox? And witchcraft? Should we turn Huckleberry into a middle-class female child, maybe? And Jim into her speech therapist? Because you can de-nigger the shit out of the book if it makes you feel better about yourself and your worthless white ancestors, but I want to see what’s left when you’ve gotten rid of all the rest of the objectionable content.

Because that’s what Huckleberry Finn is, you know: It is a novel-length objection to America, and to mankind. It is a perfectly-shaped literary weapon of perfectly-placed hatred and grief and rage. And as far as I’m concerned, if you touch so much as one comma, for any reason, you are Hitler.

As an American citizen, you are not allowed to hide from your own fucking history. If it’s so bad that you have to edit it to be able to stomach it, the primary problem is not the word "nigger," or any word at all, actually. The problem is that you are a fucking coward who has confused being offended with being injured. The word "nigger" didn’t make it into Huckleberry Finn by accident. It is not an embarrassing defect of Huck’s patois. Twain wanted you to read the book and squirm. He wanted you, the reader, to see how civilization turns every man that fits into it and keeps his head down and follows the rules and goes to church and believes in the importance of hard work and community spirit into a slave-owner or a murderer or an even worse variety of monster. You, the reader, are supposed to be appalled by the word "nigger." You are supposed to be appalled by American culture. You are supposed to be appalled by the vicious, conventional evils of humankind. You are supposed to be appalled by yourself.

You ought to crawl out of that book, heavy-hearted, burdened with all of Twain’s fatal sorrow and endless anger, and with some of your own to boot — and if you can’t or you don’t, then you might as well censor not just "nigger," but every other word in the English language. None of them will ever do you any good, anyway.


langwidere: the everything is terrible logo (everything really is terrible)
I had a horrible time at the endocrinologist; she totally ignored everything I said and gave me, essentially, the same hormone-replacement therapy they give to older ladies going through menopause (and which is famous for contributing to reproductive cancers) (I am not going through menopause). And a beta blocker! Why? Ugh. Whatever. I’m going to try about half of the prescriptions and see if they work. If not, I’ll go to someone else. Here’s hoping, though!

(But I was severely vitamin-deficient in a bunch of different categories — which kind of kicks my "healthy balanced diet" theory in the head. I might as well just take the IBS treatment and eat at McDonald’s like everybody else.)

Anyway. I’ve been reading Huckleberry Finn lately, and I just noticed this:

"Call this a govment! Why, just look at it and see what it's like. Here's the law a-standing ready to take a man's son away from him — a man's own son, which he has had all the trouble and all the anxiety and all the expense of raising. Yes, just as that man has got that son raised at last, and ready to go to work and begin to do suthin' for him and give him a rest, the law up and goes for him. And they call that govment! That ain't all, nuther. The law backs that old Judge Thatcher up and helps him to keep me out o' my property. Here's what the law does: The law takes a man worth six thousand dollars and up'ards, and jams him into an old trap of a cabin like this, and lets him go round in clothes that ain't fitten for a hog. They call that govment! A man can't get his rights in a govment like this. Sometimes I've a mighty notion to just leave the country for good and all. Yes, and I told 'em so; I told old Thatcher so to his face. Lots of 'em heard me, and can tell what I said. Says I, for two cents I'd leave the blamed country and never come a-near it agin. Them's the very words. I says look at my hat — if you call it a hat — but the lid raises up and the rest of it goes down till it's below my chin, and then it ain't rightly a hat at all, but more like my head was shoved up through a jint o' stove-pipe. Look at it, says I — such a hat for me to wear — one of the wealthiest men in this town if I could git my rights."

"Oh, yes, this is a wonderful govment, wonderful. Why, looky here. There was a free nigger there from Ohio — a mulatter, most as white as a white man. He had the whitest shirt on you ever see, too, and the shiniest hat; and there ain't a man in that town that's got as fine clothes as what he had; and he had a gold watch and chain, and a silver-headed cane — the awfulest old gray-headed nabob in the State. And what do you think? They said he was a p'fessor in a college, and could talk all kinds of languages, and knowed everything. And that ain't the wust. They said he could vote when he was at home. Well, that let me out. Thinks I, what is the country a-coming to? It was 'lection day, and I was just about to go and vote myself if I warn't too drunk to get there; but when they told me there was a State in this country where they'd let that nigger vote, I drawed out. I says I'll never vote agin. Them's the very words I said; they all heard me; and the country may rot for all me — I'll never vote agin as long as I live. And to see the cool way of that nigger — why, he wouldn't a give me the road if I hadn't shoved him out o' the way. I says to the people, why ain't this nigger put up at auction and sold? — that's what I want to know. And what do you reckon they said? Why, they said he couldn't be sold till he'd been in the State six months, and he hadn't been there that long yet. There, now — that's a specimen. They call that a govment that can't sell a free nigger till he's been in the State six months. Here's a govment that calls itself a govment, and lets on to be a govment, and thinks it is a govment, and yet's got to set stock-still for six whole months before it can take a hold of a prowling, thieving, infernal, white-shirted free nigger, and — "

Huck Finn’s dad was the very first Teabagger!

(Cheer yourself up with this.) (Or by getting really drunk and passing out.)
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (come down now they’ll say)

I found this utter shit at Dlisted. The only thing I have to say is: AJKLSDFHOJSDHFIERUWHLESIUHFSDJKH?? WHAT?????? I know it’s a blind gossip blog and all, which is not exactly the Huntley-Brinkley Report, but look at those fucking comments! Those typing turds think the Black Panthers are a real threat to their precious 'white' babies! And that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is a member! HOW COULD ANYBODY POSSIBLY BE THAT STUPID??? O RITE SRY.

I thought it was a joke at first :[
langwidere: the statue of liberty (and her name mother of exiles)
All right. So, next week’s post is going to be very exciting (especially if you are my mom) — and also I am going to start posting links to people’s artwork and probably also photos of websites and books and stationery and plantstands and other stupid things that I like, because all the depressing newslinks are starting to annoy even me.

But, this week? This week I regret to inform you that Barack Obama is unfortunately basically George W. Bush with a crunchy chocolate coating. He would like to Patriot Act the shit out of your bittorrent and chat apps, and also he not only hired a cockhat who officially opposes the dismantling of DADT — he opposes it himself, using logic that would embarrass even conservative Ur-fucktard Ronald Reagan. Spying on your ass for freedom and stopping the spread of gh3y germs among our bravemenninwimmin in uniform: THAT’S OUR COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF!

I cannot believe I made the mistake of voting for this utter fucking dickbag. Not a mistake I will make again, I promise you!

In other news:
» Don’t mess with Texas 4chan.
» Emma Thompson is apparently also a 78-year-old man! It’s like we’re twins!
» HINT: It’s because they’re stuck in Ohio.

If you would like to become extremely depressed, here’s a synopsis of the events that led up to the death by suicide of Tyler Clementi. Personally? I would charge the ugly fucker responsible with manslaughter, and lock him up for a decade or so. Just long enough to completely frustrate his adorable personal narrative, and allow all of his dreams to be slowly, slowly crushed into a fine, snortable powder. But that’s just, you know. Me.

These people, on the other hand, deserve the firing squad.

In more cheerful and totally random news, here are some photographs of a stunningly beautiful Asian-American man named Daniel Henney.

Why are NYT article links so long? The BBC links aren’t that long.
langwidere: severus snape (i think i’ll miss you most of all)
All right, if I don't do one of these I'm going to explode.

» Since Voldemort became Ralph Fiennes, I have had a hard time not rooting for him.
» This is not at all exactly the plot of a Stephen King novel, only starring ants instead of clinically depressed Maine faux-naïfs.
» This is like when my parents got divorced. Only worse.
» Good news for the roses.
» I am dead? I died and went to heaven, didn't I? If someone finds a way to work Alan Rickman in there somehow, I'll probably lapse into a coma.
» In case you thought J.K. Rowling actually made up any of the good parts of her books.
» Reason #56,782 to love Terry Pratchett.
» I made a pact with you, Oscar Wilde --
» Well, that's thoroughly fucking depressing.
» The UK ate all the pies! (Also: Are those not possibly the most disgusting-looking things you've ever seen? Not that we don't eat lots of horrible stuff in the US, but man! That looks like dog food in there!)
» I'm on the wait list.
» Why can't Brother Sharp play himself? He is pretty hot.
» Possibly the most offensive thing I have ever seen in my life.
» Tim Burton's MoMA exhibition. (I didn't even know he was having one.)
» We live in this world, now! Or, you do. I'm going on vacation to Narnia until the last week of November. Try and stop me.
» Some really pretty desktops.
» I'm actually thinking about Cupcake #31.
» It is, in fact, a really good idea to ignore absolutely everything your mother tells you when you go to college.
» If only I had a penis :[
» Is this true? Ten years online has destroyed my ability to detect satire.
» Phineas Gage was featured in a recent issue of the Smithsonian. Is it wrong to find a man with a life-ending brain injury attractive? Seeing as he'd be long-dead anyway, I'm going with "no." (Despite what this piece suggests, Gage was permanently incapacitated by the brain damage he received, and died a painful, disoriented, untimely death in his sister's house at the age of 37.)
» Because if there's one thing the angel Moroni hates, it's immigrants.
» Oh, sad. And yet I'm pantsless. Strange, that.
» SPEAKING OF BEING PANTSLESS: What about the wig? Does the wig have a show, too?
» If Susan Sarandon's new boyfriend put on a pair of glasses, he would look exactly like the Harry Potter of my imagination.
» And here's the real one (HAR)! (I think maybe Lainey read a different set of Harry Potter books, though? Because: "Excellence"? Really?? Maybe not the first adjective that comes to mind when I think of the prose of J.K. Rowling.) (Or those god-awful movies.)


ETA: And they sold them.
langwidere: two characters from a gay-themed web comic embracing (melons in love)
» In the West, we call this magic super-health drink "whiskey."
» Because I have never lost my affection for the "world news as terrible Bruce Willis/Tom Cruise vehicle" conceit, I give you the exposition sequence from Contagion.
» More news from the Computers Have Taken Over Our Lives Through Voodoo & Intimidation Desk. I am getting really tired of the "let’s blame the monkeys!" approach to modern behavioral science. Addiction to technology has nothing to do with primal impulses. This asshole’s problem is that he doesn’t like his family and finds spending time with them anesthetizing (not that I don’t sympathize; I could barely get through the article). He just needs to stop blaming his iPad and fake his own death and disappear like a normal person.
» I love it that the scientist who discovered the York gladiator cemetery is named "Kurt Hunter-Mann."

I’m choosing not to link to the upsetting stuff. Because I’m an ADULT, and I CAN DO STUFF LIKE THAT.

Hakuouki has been super-boring lately; I’m waiting for TH ('Toshizou Hijikata' — I feel comfortable calling him that because we’ve been practically friends for, like, years now) to realize that the best way to protect the emperor and save the shougun is to tell the Gerbil how he really feels about her ("I — I — to you, I’ve always — "). Or for Okita to realize that the only way to cure his tuberculosis is to lick Saitou’s nipples over and over and over. And over. Haha, just kidding, they’ll all be cherry-pink wangst zombies by this time next month.

Only two more episodes! I think! So sad. If I didn’t like the show, it would run for 38 seasons. (Looking at you, Naruto.)

No good gif material in the last few shows, so here’s one from episode seven:

Maybe someone can tell me why everybody cares so much about this Avatar: The Fifth Airblanger movie? Which is, I will remind you, a live-action adaptation of a fake anime that ran on Nickelodeon. It’s not like this is some, you know, actual thing written by and for non-white people which has been coopted by racist Hollywood. Unless there is some new definition for "fake anime" that I am unaware of, it was a borderline offensive, racist construct in the first place. But, you know, I’m trying not to judge it too harshly (AHAHA). No, really, I’m not — lots of really smart people whose opinions I trust blindly seem to think it was unbearably great, and that this movie is an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. I don’t get it. I guess I’ll just have to chalk it up to the Miyazaki Paradox and move on.

Lastly, because you care, I changed the addresses of my Tumblr account and my Formspring page. For the three people who think I’m fascinating. (HI, MOM!)

ETA: There is actually a movie called Contagion. Wow!

ETA 2: And now I know why everyone is mad at the Airblanger. Even if the original text was a chewing-gum commercial, nothing deserves that kind of treatment. Sorry. Better-informed cat is better informed. (h/t [personal profile] starburns)
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (Default)
I haven’t been online much, because I am reevaluating my life. No, not like that, sadly. Like: I would like to cut down on work, forcing me as it does to have far too much contact with our nation’s youth — but this would require me to change some budget-related things in my life, i.e., new, cheaper health insurance. Which I’m looking into. Also it’s been hard to get that lovin’ feeling for the internets recently, for some reason (which is probably related to the weather). I tend to go mostly offline around this time of year, only to return in late summer when it is way too hot to go outside and do anything useful.

Also I have a nagging feeling that I have some digital correspondence to take care of, but damned if I can remember what it is.

But, I wanted to post something. After a rather depressing process of elimination, here’s what I came up with:

Some now-useless commentary on St. Patrick’s Day! )

As for me? I think St. Patrick was a rat-bastard, if he actually existed, and I’d take a field full of imaginary ophidian pagans* over his lame holy ass any day. But on St. Patrick’s Day I usually just drink a Shamrock Shake or three, and pour one out for Grandma Maudie.

* The de-evilization of paganism does kind of annoy me, though. Because, you know, "paganism" is not a word that actually means anything, and while pagans might have variously anointed lady kings and worshipped female gods of war, fertility and/or chaos, this would not have prevented them from, say, beating and raping the slave girl. So let’s not get too excited about pagans, my ill-informed, madgick-loving friends. They were still just only people.
langwidere: a cintia dicker editorial (diet coke makes you beautiful)
I’ve been having frothing fits over the 'critical' reaction to Avatar. To be fair, it is an excruciatingly stupid movie. It’s also really, really beautiful to look at. I suppose, if I were feeling generous, I would give it credit as a sort of backwards-Matrix simile for the holy creation of the personal narrative — the need for every man to generate a lovely image of his better self and inhabit it, ideally in a better world, and for the betterment of all life and for love and for the Mission etc. Which is really sweet and totally forgivable idiocy, right? Also: Talking kitties.

Did you see the news stories about people who are clinically depressed over the fact that Pandora isn’t real? I’m not saying this sentiment is contemptible on its own; it’s just something that, like sailor collars and lollipop munge, only looks adorable on an eight-year-old.

I wish people could get over the fact that Avatar is a "white male fantasy." Everything at the movies is a white male fantasy. Do you think Up in the Air isn’t a white male fantasy? I am embarrassed for you. This is White Male Fantasyland. At least Avatar self-identifies. And what, exactly, is so awful about white men wanting to stop being white men? Modern whatsits accept the genderswitch in actual real life without batting an eyelash — but you can’t abandon the race ship, even hypothetically, no matter how convinced you are that it’s sinking? No, I’m asking. I actually find that really interesting.

But, so, here’s me:
1.) Little, Big by John Crowley. I’ve only gotten a little distance into this book because I’m also reading several Terry Pratchett novels at the same time, but my reflex is to say that Crowley seems to have an educated fool’s fondness for polysyllabic elaboration. It doesn’t bother me all that much, although I do feel it gets in the way of the story. I’m pleased your mind is a thesaurus, Mr. Crowley, but it doesn’t make me love you. But, despite this distraction, I really like this novel so far and I’m looking forward to the end. (Not like that.)
2.) The Magicians: A Novel by Lev Grossman. Haven’t started this one yet, but I think the cover is very haunting & attractive. Tree :]

Next month’s book budget goes to:
1.) Kingdoms of Elfin by Sylvia Townsend Warner
2.) Sensei wa Dummy by Komeya
3.) Mousou Elektel by Nekota Yonezou
(Where available, of course.)

I’m still plugging away at Japanese. I have a couple of great grammar books, and I also bought two folktale/horror chrestomathies (which I’ve found people call "readers," even though that’s not the same thing at all) to work on in February. If I keep doing this well, I should have a translation page up this summer. And then away we go!
langwidere: i am repulsed by wholesomeness. (the hair is canon)
I found this here. It came from here. Here’s the follow-up.

Everyone seems to be upset that Cornel West is turning into a retard? I don’t see the problem there; I assume that twenty-five straight years of sanity is probably all an intellectual of West’s caliber can stand. Old scholars don’t die, they turn into Mitch Albom characters. I am, however, disturbed by the fact that West has become a Twihard. Does he think we didn’t notice?

More disturbing: The fact that, if you don’t spend the majority of your time discussing an author’s race when writing about his work, you’re instantly a racist? I was forced pleased to read Race Matters as an undergraduate, and I watched Deavere Smith’s West impersonation in Twilight: Los Angeles 1992, so I can safely say: Huh? WTF? LOL. Most academic opposition to West arises from the fact that he occasionally writes words normal people can read, and from the fact that he is a movie star. Personally, I think his new book looks fairly horrible. Let’s not attempt to make his blackness, or anyone else’s whiteness, shoulder that burden too. Sucking at writing books is not a color-conditional discipline. I don’t really think it’s possible to suck at writing books blackly, although it might be possible to suck at writing books Cornel West-style.

Neither is it really possible to suck at writing columns whitely, despite the evidence. I did not, for example, like the unnecessary insult to videogames in the response to the response. For no reason? People who use the word "unpacking” in reference to anything but actual boxes are not intellectually trustworthy.

I think this all kind of sucks, from top to bottom, and I’m mulatto. You are free extrapolate that into something big and scary; I’m busy with all the videogames and whatnot. Also, I often wish people would watch more Sesame Street, just in general.

In appallingly related news, I recently realized that I don’t really know any of the words to Black or White. I looked them up. I don’t think that’s what he’s saying. But I can’t really hear anything other than, “mumble mumble baby it don’t matter if you’re black or white!” So I could be wrong.