Rhube is a writer, reviewer, and general consumer of all things SF&F. This Tumblr is a place of geekery, cats, feminism, beautiful men, and occasional bouts of rantery. Quite a lot older than 18. Please don't send me messages or replies, it triggers my anxiety. Follow me on Twitter @Rhube to interact more.
I don't know that organisers could have done anything to help me attend pride this year, but it really did bum me out not being able to go. Anything you can do to make Pride more accessible makes a difference.
Note: the absolute basic first step is everyone wearing masks. Yes, you are outside, but you are also in a crowd. A very large number of disabled people are effectively barred from society by the 'let it rip' policy.
Fun game for Pride Month:
When you're at a event, count how many people with mobility aids there are. If it seens low, think about why that might be. Count how many disabled bathrooms. Count how many unavoidable steps. Try and find one accessibility issue at the event and afterwards contact the organisers to ask them to fix it.
Many disabled queer people are left out of the Pride moth celebrations due to accessibility issues, so if you're able to be there, you're already in a position to make it better.
Mr Blobby is like... Gritty, for the 90s, OK? Gritty's dad.
He's genuinely beloved in that 'it's meant to be a bit shit and a bit terrifying' sort of a way that if you were alive in the 1990s you totally got.
So, imagine if Gritty had a theme park. It sounds sort of amazing, right? You'd probably want to go, in the abstract. But the reality is that there isn't that much TO Gritty except, like, wow, look at THAT!*
I mean, Mr Blobby did at least come with a setting: Crinkley Bottom, and Noel's 'House'. But they didn't make a Crinkley Bottom theme park. Or a Noel's House Party theme park, which legitimately could have had some fitting rides. The show did involve a bunch of (mostly gunge-themed) games, and even slides.
But this theme park wasn't set in Crinkley Bottom. It's just, like... where might this Creature Noel Edmunds created have come from? Somewhere WEIRD, we know that much. Yeah, let's make somewhere weird and say it was there.
Except that Mr Blobby already has an origin story: that he's a terrible children's entertainer. Literally a man in a slightly terrifying suit who falls over and fucks up a lot, until he takes his head off and reveals himself to be Noel Edmunds.
He's not meant to have a richer background than that. That is the full extent of the joke. And as far as it goes, it's surprisingly hilarious. That's why we loved him: because he's a bit shit.
You start inventing a world for him to inhabit and it gets a bit...
Mr Blobby is a chaos monster. But the thing is that he only wreaks havoc for about 15mins (of which the audience at home sees maybe 1min) and then Edmunds reveals himself and we all have our relief.
You're not meant to look too long at him.
A part of me still wants to go, I must confess. But I get why families and *children* specifically, would not be able to find hours of fun in his world.
*I am not knocking Gritty here - really, the comparison to Mr Blobby is sincere admiration - I'm just saying you can't get a full theme park out of Gritty. Even Disney Land typically only has one ride per whole film!
I need tumblr's help on this one because I only have 5 days left (until June 5) and it's not working out. I'm writing my master's thesis on the video game industry and I've distributed a survey around but barely have ANY answers. It should only take 5 minutes to complete. Please, at least reblog this to help me out I'm desperate.
The thing about Cottagecore is that is a fetishized aesthetic of country life, divorced from labor and idealized by a primarily urban audience with a backward looking ethos of tradition. They are not prepared for the stresses of a rural life: farming; harvesting; tapping pumpkins to ensure none of them have been replaced with flesh; losing out on income by having to use one of your pigs in a blood sacrifice to paint protective sigils over your doors and windows; checking cracks and chimneys for the flesh-vines of the Pumpkin Lord; having to decide, before the Growth is complete, whether that's really your tradwife or an amassment of vines, leaves, and blood in the shape of your tradwife; ignoring their desperate pleas that "I'm me! No! No!" as you burn them alive, realizing too late you picked wrong; and the exploitative corporate nature of commercial farming in 2024. All seen through a deeply colonial lens, of course