#Yuppie pigs

[mapecl-stories]

[dangermousie]

Loved the Hou x FFYY plot being all uncovered (and the fact that Jing didn't even need an explanation from XY - she tried and he was all 'I trust you, no need') and of course the man got off lighter. I loved FFYY learning she wasted her life on a psycho tho how she wasn't clued in that a man who tortured his brother to near death and insanity for years is probably not dreamboat material is beyond me.

Also, I love how he physically takes care of her in such practical, constant, little ways. AWWW

And her reaction on getting confirmation he's never had anything with FFYY.

I also love that when he asked for another chance, he first promised to not let anyone else or himself hurt her. AAAA!

In those eps we can see little glimpses of how easily happy they can be if the world lets them be.

I mean, even grandpa likes him:

Because he gets that it's Jing who can offer XY what she wants - a simple easy life of cottagecore and no great deeds. I mean, we see later them play chess and TSJ the chess genius just does not concentrate because he's busy making eyes at his girl - and grandpa likes it. Because chess is all ambition and war and Jing just doesn't care. He's got the brains for it and no drive. I am in love with the concept of the best love interest being the one with no cause, no ambition, no destiny. Just an offer of peace and normalcy and mundane moments - because clearly that is all XY wants.

And it reaches its peak when she opens a clinic and he gives her the sign he drew and there are firecrackers and the most amazingly peaceful yuppie life imaginable - as the servant says about them, she will treat people and Jing will collect the money. One of the reasons I really love LYF is that it gets that people love and want different things in life. The default epic/fantasy narrative is people with causes and destinies and quests and kingdoms to conquer and wrongs to avenge. But our protagonist wants only to escape the narrative - she does not want to be in an epic fantasy or a doomed romance - no Game of Thrones OR Throne of Glass is her desire - she wants to live in a xianxia version of PG Wodehouse's Blandings, where the biggest concerns are whose pig will win at the annual fair. And that is one of the reasons only Jing can be a truly happy endgame for her - only with him will her life resemble her ideal vision - neither of the other two men are capable of providing her with cottagecore (and GX is gegezoned also but...)

This is her dream life.

Btw, this will never not be funny. Look how smugly she's telling this about her dad to TSJ.

[octuscle]

Fuck man using this app whilst I'm currently so horny might be a mistake but please tell me this thing has a forced growth feature. I'm so bored of being small already I just want to become so fucking huge the only thing I can fit in is under wear, skin tight gym shorts at the most. I want my stench and B.O to instantly fill up a room and make lesser men fall to their knees.

I just wanna be forced to become a young insanely huge freakshow of a bodybuilder.

RIPPPPPP! In the middle of lunch, the seam of your jacket rips open across your back. The whole restaurant is looking at you. You barely look up from your plate, on which instead of a coq au vin there are now six boiled chicken breasts with rice. You struggle to free yourself from the shreds of your jacket without stopping to gulp down your food.

RIPPPPPP! Your biceps burst the sleeves of your shirt. With your mouth full, you mumble something like "sorry" and just rip the remnants of the sleeves off the rest of the shirt. You eat your food like a pig. The glass of Merlot is now a canister of protein shake. Your colleagues and business partners stare at you with open mouths. You pause for a moment and do a double biceps pose. Fuck, the bushes under your armpits stink like a horse stable. You take a deep breath and grin. PIIIIING! Two of your shirt buttons can no longer withstand your pectoral muscles as you inhale and fly through the air like projectiles. You stand up with difficulty, apologize again with your mouth full and spit food scraps around. On the way to the toilet, you let loose a huge protein fart. A quick look in the mirror… You can throw away the shirt. For the rest of lunch it must still hold out with torn sleeves and unbuttoned. While you first fart and then burp even louder, your boss comes in. Holds you a telling off, what that was for an impossible behavior on your part. He asks you to leave the restaurant discreetly through the back exit. And to report to him in the office tomorrow morning.You put your hand to your temple in an "Aye Sir". And you fart again as a farewell.

Your fancy Porsche convertible groans as you squeeze your body into the tight seat. Fuck, the car is much too small for you. The remnants of the clothes you're wearing on your body are much too small for you. You desperately need a change of clothes. In your gym there is a small corner where they sell fitness clothes. And the gym is nearby, so you drive the car there. The receptionist stares at you. This is actually a posh place for yuppies and influencers who want to keep fit. Not for the big lads like you. You ask if they have anything to wear in your size. The lady asks you if you speak English. You repeat your question with a heavy Russian accent.

The only thing they have here in your size are shorts that are frighteningly tight on your thighs. At least there are shoes and socks in size 14. You look good. You do another pose in front of the mirror. The passing visitors of the gym hold their noses. You smell your armpit again. Good honest pumper sweat. You want to go to the training area when you are asked for your membership card. You search for your wallet in the rags that used to be your suit pants. There it is. But Anatol Ivanovich is not a member here. Anatol is a member of Gold's Gym.

You love your Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A car like you. Massive and bursting with power. And fortunately well ventilated for any passengers. As you roll into the parking lot in front of the gym, you and your car stick out. This is certainly a place for the big guys. But you're the biggest of them.

After the third set on the leg press, you take a deep breath. Yes, this is what a gym must smell like. Like burps. Like protein farts. Like sweat. Like testosterone. Just like you!

Found the pic of your new you @muscleaddictza

[horrorvillaintourney]

HORROR'S NEXT TOP GENDER, ROUND ONE, MATCH FIVE: Annie Wilkes (Misery) vs. Bobby Joe (Evil Dead II)

PROPAGANDA FOR ANNIE:

"Annie is peak cottagecore butch. She's got her pet pig, her big coveralls, plaid for days. But, she also has this obsession with femininity, expressed through her love of the character Misery. Misery, the character, is everything Annie isn't. Soft, beautiful, outgoing, clever. Feminine. It's a strong contrast to thick, sturdy, plain, violent Annie. Annie doesn't conform to the femininity that Paul Sheldon writes Misery with, and Annie's identification with Misery brings into question Annie's own relationship with womanhood. She's a murderous, masculine caretaker, and not the noble and stunning romance heroine she longs to be."

PROPAGANDA FOR BOBBY JOE:

"She’s a beautiful hick woman with a dumb (and some might say,, less than attractive) but adoring boyfriend. She doesn’t take shit from yuppies (city folk, townies, however you wanna say it). She’s a she/her Bobby Joe in the same movie with he/him Ashley Joanna, what’s not to love?"

[nando161mando]

fuck taylor "capitalist pig yuppie lava fraud" swift and her bootlickers, her music is fucking shit

[thenightlymirror]

I’ve never really understood the sin model of being cool. I’m pretty sure that just means I’m not cool. Which is fine. My default personality is much closer to “religious zealot” anyway. And that’s basically how I identify. Whenever I have to meet new people, and they seem very insecure, I just remind myself that I’m a communist, which is really just a variety of Quaker, and my whole schtick is that I don’t need to be cool, and my mysterious advantage over every kind of try-hard is that coolness means nothing to me. I have a coolness that emerges from deeper virtues.

I mention this only because I feel like a few people drink or do drugs because they enjoy the experience, but quite a lot more really feel compelled to do these things because they had to impress a “bad kid” once, and that bully, or series of bullies respecting them for getting drunk has just stayed with them ever since. So, it’s just like this shield that says, “You couldn’t possibly be a yuppie! You’re doing drugs!” And it’s like, actually you are just a yuppie doing drugs. That’s it. It’s simple.

Now, the advantage of this is that all these people are normal, and can enjoy themselves in social settings. So, who’s the idiot?

I think the difference is when they aren’t, despite picking up all the crutches to fit in. It’s like if you had to fuck a pig to get into a fraternity, and then you just got addicted to fucking pigs. Fair. To each their own. In that situation, it’s almost like the actually enjoyable part of being drunk or high is forbidden. Like, it’s wrong that you feel calmer, that you enjoy things more. That’s the whole point! And now for some reason you are in trouble because you are enjoying yourself, and not fucking a pig because the Illuminati has a gun to your head.

[mrlaemmle]

What are some of the scariest movie scenes ever?

The hillbilly rape scene in Deliverance is a real spine-tingler.

For those who haven’t seen this, one of the most famous scenes in cinema history, it goes like this. A group of four civilized men go on a canoe trip in the South, before the river is dammed to make a power-generating lake for the air-conditioned nightmare of Atlanta and its bland suburbs.

There is the alpha male, played by Burt Reynolds. The soft man, played by Ned Beatty. The refined man played by Ronny Cox. And Jon Voight, who has all three characteristics swirling around in his soul.

While banked on the side of the river, Ned and Jon are accosted by a couple of real bumpkins. The toothless, violent, ignorant, barbaric savage of lore. Ned is raped in the most humiliating, dehumanizing, emasculating manner. Squeal like a pig, anyone?

A look of horror, but also of disgust at Ned for so easily buckling to his attackers, passes over Jon’s face. It’s a brilliant moment in the film.

We all know the trope of affable, civilized people going into the back country and encountering primitive savagery.

It’s a tale as old as time, when exile from the community was the worst possible punishment to confer. These days, we can’t begin to imagine how horrific this sentence was. But before the internet and before world travel, being thrown into the wilds of the other, of “savages,” was a punishment worse than death.

Today we know that most rural people are fine folks. Probably more affable and generous than our neighbors in the city. But the fear lives on. We see it reflected in movies like Straw Dogs, Wrong Turn, The Hills Have Eyes, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and probably hundreds more.

The thing is, if you’re someone who likes going into the backwoods, these fears are very real.

There are a lot of crazy folks out there, and when they meander out of the woods into your campsite, it can get a little weird.

I have friends who go back country skiing, way out in no man’s land. They drive down roads nobody ever goes down, the locals eyeing them suspiciously. With their expensive gear and nice FJ, these guys are a target.

Outdoorsmen and women go missing all the time. They’re murdered all the time. I know people personally who have been killed in the woods.

Not to overestimate the risk, of course. It’s not like you should be afraid to go for a hike.

But there are communities in this country, or any country, who don’t like outsiders rolling into town. Who are actually far beyond the pale of civilization. Communities who don’t like the police, settle their own differences, and know how to get away with murder. They don’t watch Netflix and they don’t know there’s a #MeToo movement. And they’re not too terribly excited that the “yuppies” are discovering the hitherto unexplored natural beauty to be found in their neck of the woods.

My father was a detective. And if there was a body found in the woods in rural New Mexico, you could forget about solving it. Nobody would talk to you. They took care of their own business. And if someone in the community killed a random outsider, nobody gave a shit. They might think it’s a bad idea, it might bring unwanted attention, but they weren’t going to turn a local into the authorities. That’s against code.

And if you don’t think these people exist, and these communities exist, you’re out of your mind.

I’ve had friends who have been camping with their wives or girlfriends way, way up in the hills, when a couple weird, and potentially violent creepers come onto their campsite. They sit and make themselves at home. They don’t leave, even after it gets real, real awkward. It gets scary. They start making crude sexual comments, tinged with violent and aggressive overtones, expecting you and your girl to laugh it up with them. Taking a little offense if you don’t seem to share their sense of humor. We’re all just having fun, right?

I’ve been deep in the woods with girlfriends, when very strange dudes come walking out of the shrubbery and just linger. Weird shit, weird comments, weird vibes. And many times I’ve reprimanded myself for not having a gun with me.

I’ve run into creepy hillbillies in the Yukon, where nobody can hear you scream, and you’re afraid to car-camp that night, staying awake listening for the snap of a twig. Friends who’ve road-tripped across the continent of Africa, who have had genuine moments of fear that the women in their party were going to be raped before they were all murdered, their bodies left to rot in the jungle.

So even though it’s silly to paint all backwoods people as violent nogoodniks, don’t kid yourself. There’s a kernel of truth to it.

If you’ve ever been far from civilization, especially with your best gal, and come across someone (or worse still, a group of someones) who seems kind of off and vaguely menacing, you know what I’m talking about.

Best wishes,

Laemmle-Vision

[squiiids]

the selling point of free market capitalism that the pigs and yuppies like to praise is how if you don't like something, you can just consume other products or make your own competitor, but the reality of the late stage hypercapitalist market we're in is that it really isn't feasible in any capacity. A lot of people and businesses are dependent on amazon's shipping which is something it can only do the way it does because it's a gigantic worldwide corporation with drivers and warehouses literally everywhere. Copyright laws are such a way that if you want to consume certain media (in a legal way) you can only exclusively do it through one particular streaming service, whether or not you like it. If you don't have a car you need to use an app that exploits and underpays its drivers. if you do have a car you need to buy gas from a company destroying the planet more efficiently than any cartoon supervillain. And if you really do have issues with the way things are run and want to make a competitor, the cost to create such a business is way more than any average person could ever have, and without the kind of corner cutting that megacorporations do, you cannot compete with them. There aren't alternatives, the market isn't free.

its not really a free market anymore is it?

the average consumer is so dependent on the biggest companies that they can make absolutely horrible business decisions and they do not have alternatives, they're stuck with using them and their deliberately subpar products.

[mapecl-stories]

The Melody of One's Own Life: Jonas' Journey to Musical Freedom

Jonas had just turned 18 and lived in a town called Flensburg, characterized by various shops and rental houses. His parents owned a successful flower shop, and they had always hoped that Jonas would follow in their footsteps or at least help out at the store on Sundays.

However, Jonas had no interest in that path. He didn't want to spend his life surrounded by flower bouquets and plants. Instead, he often sat in his room, observing life on the streets from his window. Across the way lived Dennis and Angelique, a somewhat run-down couple. Both of them always wore jogging pants, held beer bottles in their hands, and their bellies had become noticeably rounder, not befitting their young age. They didn't seem particularly inclined to work and lived off some obscure income sources that Jonas couldn't quite figure out. Yet, one thing was clear: Both had a stroller in front of their door, despite their lack of regular jobs.

Jonas couldn't comprehend their attitude. He felt misunderstood and often frustrated. But he found solace in music, which he listened to in his room. One song, in particular, resonated with him, sung by a band that criticized society. The song's lyrics were full of sarcasm and cynicism aimed at the "yuppie pigs" - the wealthy, ambitious, and seemingly shallow individuals who saw themselves as the elite of society.

One day, Jonas decided to leave behind his boredom and frustration. He set out to find some excitement in the town. At a kiosk, he met John, a young man his age, proudly showing off his brand-new smartphone with a polyphonic ringtone to the other guys. However, as they chatted about the latest gadget, Jonas realized that John didn't really have his life under control. He seemed oblivious to the fact that his behavior and priorities might not lead him very far.

In that moment, Jonas recognized that he needed to take control of his life. He didn't want to end up like Dennis, Angelique, or John. He refused to sink into insignificance or settle for superficial pursuits. He made up his mind to forge his own path and not be swayed by the expectations of others.

From that day on, Jonas began exploring his talents and interests. He volunteered at a local youth center and discovered his knack for music. He learned to play the guitar and started writing his own songs - lyrics that dealt with genuine emotions and experiences, going beyond the sarcastic tone of societal criticism.

Jonas realized that music provided him with a means to express his thoughts and emotions, connecting with others. He started performing in cafes, receiving positive feedback from the listeners. Eventually, he found a band that shared his passion, and together, they set out to enrich the town with their music.

When Jonas' parents learned of his plans, they were surprised but also proud of him. They recognized that their son had found his own happiness, even if it wasn't in the flower shop. Jonas was finally content because he had discovered his passion and refused to be overshadowed by others' expectations.

Time passed, and Jonas' band gained regional recognition. They managed to use their music as an outlet for genuine emotions and thoughts, reaching many people. Jonas wasn't striving for instant success or wealth - he simply wanted to do what he loved: creating music and touching people's hearts.

As the stories of Dennis, Angelique, and John continued, Jonas had learned that he wasn't responsible for their lives. He could only shape his own life and make the most of it. The path he chose wasn't always easy, but it was his own - and that's all that mattered.

Thus, ends the tale of a young man who liberated himself from society's expectations and found his own voice, sharing it with others through his music.

[roughentumble]

/i/ think, in a regency type story, the ultimate fantasy is having somebody with a big title be like YOU SHOULD ADDRESS ME PROPERLY while someone else(who does not know titles or fancy people words) just looks at them and goes ??? i dont know who you are, buddy. chill out

and then just, like, walks away not even knowing the Indignity they just caused because, as previously stated, they dont know rich people words.

[even-disco-baby]

YOU — “You’re not Cuno.”

NOT CUNO — She just sneers at you. Childish stubbornness meets a strangely adult hatred. “Pig lost his memory again? Been riding the lightning too hard? Cuno is Cuno.”

AUTHORITY — This is no time for playing around. Shut her down and move on.

YOU — “I know you’re not Cuno because Cuno lives in Jamrock with me.”

NOT CUNO — The sneer slides off her face like rainwater down a gutter. Her eyes are dark and opaque.

HALF LIGHT — The eyes of a cornered animal.

COMPOSURE — She doesn’t want you to know that you’ve broken her heart.

NOT CUNO — A long, *long* moment passes. Then, with an effort, she pulls herself together.

“Stupid fuckpig,” she spits. “Cuno would die before he became a pig. Or leave Martinaise for some yuppie shithole. This is *Cuno’s* town, you hear?! Cuno’s never leaving.”

EMPATHY — Cuno is stuck here, forever and ever.

YOU — “But Cuno *did* leave. You’re not Cuno, you’re Cunoesse.”

NOT CUNO — “Who the *fuck* is Cunoesse?” She says it with all the exaggerated confusion she can physically muster. “Are you high? There’s only ever been Cuno. You’re imagining things. Probably just imagined the Cuno back in Jamrock, too.”

DRAMA — I don’t think I even need to tell you that she’s lying, sire. It’s the same lie she tells herself at times. But there’s no conviction behind it.

YOU — “Come on, Cunoesse. Stop pretending.”

NOT CUNO — “Are you fucking stupid?” Her voice is shaking. It’s impossible to tell whether it’s from anger or fear. “Didn’t you listen to anything Cuno just fucking told you? Cunoesse isn’t *real.* Ask anybody in this stupid city. They’ll all tell you they only remember Cuno. And Cuno never left. Cuno’s right fucking here.”

EMPATHY — A sorrow deeper than any you have ever or will ever know is cracking her open from the inside. She’s in danger of shattering right before your eyes.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Cunoesse kept her distance from you the first time you came here. It’s likely that she kept her distance from everyone but Cuno back then. With her bright red hair cut like Cuno’s, dressed in his old clothes, even you were momentarily confused. After a year, how many people have forgotten the way Cuno’s cackle sounds like seagulls on the wind? How he always seemed to talk in stereo? How many have forgotten Cunoesse entirely?

LOGIC — While some people truly might not be able to tell the difference, it’s more likely that most of them just don’t care. They’re someone else’s children.

INLAND EMPIRE — This is how children disappear. This is how they cease to be people.

[neonun-au]

major(ish) canadian cities as nct units

nct vancouver: yuppie concept. they all dress like its both 1970 and 2070. they all own nfts. there is a bear in the group

nct victoria: artsy concept. but rich art kids who got money for their showcase from their parents and clearly dont actually know anything about art history or hard work. they smell like weed (good weed) 

nct calgary: cowboy concept. they all own nfts and get into a scandal literally every second day. buy their way out of it but they are running out of money because people are finally getting tired of their shit

nct edmonton: artsy concept. but working class artsy so its actually kind of cool and people are surprised because they come across so cold and frigid but surprise, surprise they actually make good things. people forget this every time they’re not promoting

nct regina: farmer concept. real farmers, real dirt. they own a collective pig farm and their hair is permanently windswept. 

nct saskatoon: hipster concept. ex-farmers turned hipsters who still smell a little bit like pigs but that’s part of the appeal. they’re awkward and endearing. 

nct winnipeg: futuristic concept. unexpected, but they make the best music. probably because they can never leave the dorms cause its fucking freezing outside. hard times made them creative.

nct toronto: dark concept. but like, mean. mean dark concept because they dont have any time for anything and they need to pay rent. 

nct ottawa: soo man’s favourite. they get every concept and have the biggest budget. there is quality there but it feels a little bitter because of the silver spoon in their mouth 24/7 

nct montreal: sports concept. mostly just as an excuse to beat the shit out of each other. they all cook well though

nct halifax: cute concept. they all smile so much you dont know if its forced or not. (its not its just that the beer and lobster makes ya happy). 

nct moncton: cute concept but it is forced. they’re tired and they want to own nfts but they cant cause they dont get any schedules so theyre broke. 

nct st. johns: fisherman concept. they all wear wellies and dance in the rain and then go and get drunk with nct halifax and fight about territorial disputes (dorm arrangements) 

nct charleottetown: sponsored by cavendish potatoes. they all get their hair artificially dyed red and look longingly into the distance over the sweeping landscape while reading poetry aloud. 

nct iqaluit: its just one guy trying his best

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

The Whole World Is Right and I am Wrong

Stephen Jay Morris

7/10/2022

©Scientific Morality

There are millions upon billions of contradictions in this life. You try to sort them all out, then you get crossed-eyed confused. The problem with anti-intellectualism is that the unelected, self-proclaimed leaders of the masses can make the most stupid mistakes and nobody will complain about them because their IQs are lower than Holland’s land mass. The leaders will proclaim, “You don’t have to think for yourself; I will think for you.” How do you feel about thinking? As for me, I have no feelings about thinking. Taking measurements doesn’t require you to be happy or sad, or even, angry.

Now, the American Right is going on this stoic kick. They want all White males to be heartless warriors. They want you to die without tears. They want you “die like a man!” You ask how do I know this shit? Just listen to the cretins on the radio, Cable TV, YouTube, and Twitter. They are belittling “woke” folk for being what they say are “emotional, like females.” A bunch of dick-worshiping, sexist pigs, I’m telling you! Me thinks they love their dicks more than Jesus.

Since I was 22 years old, I’ve fallen short of being de rigueur. Well, I did try glitter rock as an ensemble, but it was for laughs and fun. So, I didn’t become a yuppie in the 80’s. I don’t pay any obeisance to the flag, God, guns, or money. To be a real free thinker, you need to have a real brain. I choose to be an a-social bohemian. I’ve known all along that America benefits from false advertising as being the best and the freest entity in the multiverse. Now, let me declare to you Right wing, paranoid, freaks: I don’t want to take away your guns, religion, or freedom. I want to take away your ignorance. That’s it!

Compare a Christian university to a secular university, who do you think has the bigger library? You go into a Christian library and there is only one there book there: the King James Bible. It’s almost the same in the former Soviet Union. Their library had only Karl Marx books. Go into a free, public library and you’ve got thousands of books to choose from!

Now, my last point; and I don’t want to belabor this point but, since I am an anti-nationalist miscreant, I will indulge myself. The reason the evangelicals hate Islam, Communism, and wokeness is because, like in Capitalism, the Theocratic mobsters are competing for world dominance. But it is the S.O.S. (aka: “Same Old Shit”). Totalitarianism comes in all sizes, shapes, and colors. The evangelicals are no different than the ʿAshariyyah of Iran. Sorry—I don’t want to in live a Corporate Theocratic State.

The Millennials are far more educated than the Baby Boomers and Generation X put together. I mean, damn! This generation has used computers since the second grade! Intelligence and objective truth have a Left wing bias. The Millennial's lean Left and the Conservativea are shitting bricks about it. 1+1=2. If God says it’s 3, and you believe it, then you will be lost forever. Don’t give me this shit that you “want America back!” So do the Native Americans! Physical reality wants the Earth back. Humans are fucking it up! Let’s give the Earth back to the world!

My generation is dying a slow death because medical science is keeping us alive. Life expectancy in the 18th Century was 35 years old. Our forefathers were rich, White guys who could afford to be educated. Not only that, they were Theists who believed that God didn’t want his creations to be dependent upon him; that God wanted humans to think for themselves. They also believed in science. They were intelligent enough to know that science was a methodology to discover the truth about something; that it was not a force to destroy Christianity.

We now have a collective of morons who are rooting for a Civil War. They are so fucking stupid, they don’t know the difference between a “counter-revolution” and a Civil War.

Somebody called me out saying that, when I use the word “stupid,” I am being ableist. A person with a mental disability can’t help being intellectually challenged. However, a normal, healthy brain can be willfully ignorant. The adjective, “stupid,” is not an Ethnic epithet, like “nigger” is. Willful ignorance will destroy America—not the Le

[cardest]

Melbourne playlist

There is no other city like Melbourne! It sure is a stand out city. I go there at least once a year and always look forward to going back as soon as I left it. But it’s more than just a city. It’s the music from this place that is undeniably awesome.

So I put together a playlist of bands, artists from Melbourne and beyond the city limits. It was one of the more fun playlists I put together and I hope you enjoy it. Maybe there is a song or a band from there I overlooked. Let me know!!

MELBOURNE, Australia

001 Big Pig - Hungry Town 002 King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Robot Stop 003 Magic Dirt - daddy 004 Models - I Hear Motion 005 Suss Cunts - Temper 006 The Birthday Party - Release the Bats 007 Cosmic Psychos -  The Man Who Drank Too Much 008 Pseudo Echo - Beat For You 009 Amyl and the Sniffers - Some Mutts  (Can't be muzzled) 010 TISM - Greg! The Stop Sign! 011 Abramelin -  Human Abattoir   012 Hunters and Collectors - Say goodbye 013 Damaged  - Nails 014 Weddings Parties Anything - Brunswick 015 Spiderbait - Fucken Awesome 016 Skyhooks - Balwyn Calling 017 Eddy Current Supression Ring - Modern Man 018 Real Life - Send Me An Angel 019 The Eternal - Down 020 The Triffids - Wide Open Road 021 AC/DC - Dog Eat Dog 022 Ne Obliviscaris -  Of The Leper Butterflies 023 Mantissa -  Mary Mary 024 Kids In The Kitchen - Bitter Desire 025 Deströyer 666 - Australian And Anti-Christ 026 The Stroppies - Celebration Day 027 Hobbs' Angel Of Death - Crucifixion 028 HOSS - The Tiredest Man Awake 029 Paul Kelly - Leaps And Bounds 030 Fuck the Fitzroy Doom Scene - Blind Faith 031 Inverloch -  From The Eventide Pool 032 Painters & Dockers - Die Yuppie Die 033 Gay Paris - Ash Wednesday Boudoir Party 034 HIGH TENSION - COLLINGWOOD 035 Dan Sultan - Old Fitzroy 036 Voodoo Lovecats - Killed Her in St. Kilda 037 Jason Donovan - Nothing Can Divide Us 038 I'm Talking - Do You Wanna Be 039 BELAKOR - Roots To Sever 040 Dead Can Dance - A Passage in Time 041 HONEY BUCKET - Patch of Grass 042 Masters Apprentices ? - Melodies Of St. Kilda 043 Cosmic Psychos -  Can't Keep A Good Man Down 044 The Fauves - Sunbury 97 045 Black Bats - Shining Haze 046 Even - The Melbourne Beat Parade 047 King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - Big Fig Wasp 048 Boom Crash Opera  - Onion Skin 049 Tropical Fuck Storm - Lose The Baby 050 AC/DC -  Whole Lotta Rosie 051 Laura Imbruglia  - Tricks 052 Huxton Creepers - Autumn Leaves 053 Kylie Minogue - Got To Be Certain 054 The Black Sorrows - Chained To The Wheel 055 Uncanny X Men Everybody Wants To Work Remastered Audio 056 MACHINATIONS - No Say In It 057 Jackson Reid Briggs & the Heaters  - Seaside 058 Big Pig - I Cant Break Away 059 Kit Convict - Watch Your Skull 060 Cosmic Psychos  - pub 061 King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard -  Gamma Knife 062 Real Life - Catch Me Im Falling 063 Stonefield - Delusion 064 FRANKENBOK - Never To Return 065 Dreadnaught -  The Push 066 Dead Can Dance - Anywhere Out Of The World 067 LITTLE DESERT  -  CAPTIVE 068 The Living End - Roll On 069 ORB - A Man In The Sand 070 Elm Street-Metal Is The Way 071 Parsnip - Health 072 The Berzerker -  Caught In The Crossfire 073 School Damage - Gasbagging 074 Romper Stomper - Pulling On The Boots 075 Men At Work - Who Can It Be Now 076 Harem Scarem - Last Stand Man 077 The Peep Tempel - Mister Lester Moore 078 Mark Seymour - Westgate 079 Primo - You’ve Got a Million 080 Magic Dirt - amoxycillin 081 Ali Barter - Please Stay 082 Boom Crash Opera - City Flat 083 Buried Feather - Mind of the Swarm 084 Mortification - Scrolls of the Megilloth 085 TISM - Fourteen Years in Rowville 086 Pseudo Echo - Listening 087 Wrong Turn - Johnny Collingwood 088 Mondo Rock - Come Said The Boy 089 SUBTERFUGE - Unhinged 090 Split Enz - Message To My Girl 091 King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - People-Vultures 092 The Eternal - All Hope Is Lost 093 Sunbeam Sound Machine - Real Life 094 Superheist - Bullet 095 1927 - Tell Me A Story 096 Chantoozies - Wanna Be Up 097 Bad Boy Bubby OST - Bubbys Song 098 Drown This City - IM NOT DIVIDED 099 Augie March - This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers 100 AC/DC -  It's Long Way To The top 101 Rowland S. Howard - Lifes What You Make It (Talk Talk cover) 102 Crazy Pussy - Drink at the Tote 103 Teeth & Tongue - Dianne 104 Blood Duster - Northcote 105 Taipan Tiger Girls - Motion 106 Paul Kelly - From  St.Kilda to Kings Cross 107 Cemetery Urn -  The Deepest of Graves 108 Grinderman -  Worm Tamer 109 The Masters Apprentices - War or Hands Of Time 110 Magic Dirt - She-Riff 111 Hunters and Collectors - Inside A Fireball 112 Hierophants - Fagg Hopp 113 Lost Animal - Lose the Baby 114 Essendon Airport - No Quarter 115 The Lucksmiths - Tale Of Two Cities 116 TOTAL CONTROL - The Hammer 117 Endless - Lord Deceptor 118 Eddy Current Suppression Ring - Our Quiet Whisper 119 Bits of Shit - Patrol 120 TISM - Mourningtown Ride 121 New War - Emerald dream eyes 122 Hiatus Kaiyote - Breathing Underwater 123 Alien Nose Job - Buffet of Love 124 Tetema - Haunted On The Uptake 125 Uncanny X Men - I Am 126 King - Coldest of Cold 127 Spiderbait - Cracker 128 The Cat Empire - East 129 Ausmuteants - Mates Rates 130 The Living End - All Torn Down 131 The Church -  Destination 132 Skyhooks - Toorak Cowboy 133 Carlton Streets - Brian Brown Quintet 134 Silverlight Shadows - Headspace 133 TISM - I'm Interested in Apathy 134 Dumb Punts - Headfuck 135 SNOG - Business As Usual 136 The Dirty Three - Better go home soon 137 Crowded House - Nails in my feet 138 Rebel Wizard - Voluptuous Worship of Rapture and Response 139 U-Bahn - 'Beta Boyz' 140 Bestial Warlust - Dweller of the Bottomless Pit 141 The Murlocs - Young Blindness 142 CHRISTBAIT - Yeast 143 HTRK -  Ha 144 A Basket of Mammoths - Unkept And Matted 145 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Avalanche 146 Mondo Rock - State of heart 147 The Meanies - Punchin Air 148 Mad Max OST Brian May - Mad Max Main Title 149 Bananagun - People Talk Too Much 150 TISM - Get Thee In My Behind Satan 151 Cosmic Psychos - Dead roo 152 The Models - Out of mind, out of sight 153 Mantissa - Dream alone 154 Australian Crawl - Things Don't Seem 155 The Boys Next Door - the nightwatchman 156 John Farnham - One 157 Air Supply - Love and other bruises 158 Abramalin - never enough snuff 159 Billy Thorpe - It's almost summer 160 Disembowelment - Your prophetic throne of ivory 161 Amyl and the Sniffers - Got you 162 Abominator - Black Mass Warfare   163 Things Of Stone And Wood - Share this wine 164 Inverloch - distance collapsed 165 Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Deanna 666 Kath and Kim TV show theme song

Cya at Strangeworld Records! Cya yesterday!

[popsocialism]

“But when you talk about destruction Don’t you know that you can count me out… IN!“ (”Revolution”, Lennon/McCartney)

Ah, sure, ‘Revolution.’ There were two versions of that song but the underground left only picked up on the one that said 'count me out.’ The original version which ends up on the LP said 'count me in’ too; I put in both because I wasn’t sure. There was a third version that was just abstract, musique concrete, kind of loops and that, people screaming. I thought I was painting in sound a picture of revolution – but I made a mistake, you know. The mistake was that it was anti-revolution.

On the version released as a single I said 'when you talk about destruction you can count me out’. I didn’t want to get killed. I didn’t really know that much about the Maoists, but I just knew that they seemed to be so few and yet they painted themselves green and stood in front of the police waiting to get picked off. I just thought it was unsubtle, you know. I thought the original Communist revolutionaries coordinated themselves a bit better and didn’t go around shouting about it. That was how I felt – I was really asking a question. As someone from the working class I was always interested in Russia and China and everything that related to the working class, even though I was playing the capitalist game.

(John Lennon’s interview for The Red Mole in january 1971)

The very next day following the Red Mole interview, Lennon composed his song, 'Power To The People’. John would release the song as a single in March.

I wanted to put what I felt about revolution; I thought it was time we fuckin’ spoke about it, the same as I thought it was about time we stopped not answering about the Vietnamese War when we were on tour with Brian Epstein and had to tell him, “We’re going to talk about the war this time and we’re not going to just waffle.” I wanted to say what I thought about revolution.

I had been thinking about it up in the hills in India. I still had this “God will save us” feeling about it, that it’s going to be all right (even now I’m saying “Hold on, John, it’s going to be all right,” otherwise, I won’t hold on) but that’s why I did it, I wanted to talk, I wanted to say my piece about revolution. I wanted to tell you, or whoever listens, to communicate, to say “What do you say? This is what I say.”

On one version I said “Count me in” about violence, in or out, because I wasn’t sure. But the version we put out said “Count me out,” because I don’t fancy a violent revolution happening all over. I don’t want to die; but I begin to think what else can happen, you know, it seems inevitable.

(…)

So that’s my feeling. The idea was don’t aggravate the pig by waving the thing that aggravates – by waving the Red flag in his face. You know, I really thought that love would save us all. But now I’m wearing a Chairman Mao badge.

I’m just beginning to think he’s doing a good job. I would never know until I went to China. I’m not going to be like that, I was just always interested enough to sing about him. I just wondered what the kids who were actually Maoists were doing. I wondered what their motive was and what was really going on. I thought if they wanted revolution, if they really want to be subtle, what’s the point of saying “I’m a Maoist and why don’t you shoot me down?” I thought that wasn’t a very clever way of getting what they wanted.

(John Lennon’s Interview for The Rolling Stone, recorded in december 1970, published in january 1971)

I thought it was interesting that Nina Simone did a sort of answer to “Revolution.” That was very good – it was sort of like “Revolution,” but not quite. That I sort of enjoyed, somebody who reacted immediately to what I had said.

By the 1980s, an era in which the so-called “flower power” of Sixties idealism was being superseded by materialism and yuppy culture, and which began with John Lennon being violently shot to death outside his home, “Revolution” was about to receive a new lease of life when the Oregon-based advertising agency Wieden+Kennedy sought to use the song in an advertisement to launch a new air bubble gimmick for Nike shoes. (…)

The process of obtaining permission was complex (…). In 1985, Michael Jackson had outbid Paul McCartney to buy the performance rights to a whole catalogue of Beatles songs and it was his representatives who contacted Yoko Ono to solicit approval on behalf of Wieden+Kennedy. Ono, it seems, managed to persuade Capitol/EMI to release permission. Janet Champ, who was part of the team that came up with the idea of using “Revolution” for the spot, remembered the matter as follows:

“What made me feel really good about having this spot was we wrote Yoko Ono and we went and told her what the idea was — I didn’t get to go, but we sent the idea to her and we asked her what she thought about it — and she loved it… And the Beatles were all behind it, too, so once they said it was all right, we felt pretty good about it.”

Ono later explained to Time magazine that she didn’t “want to see John deified” nor for “John’s songs to be part of a cult of glorified martyrdom” but instead to be enjoyed by a “new generation”, “to make it part of their lives instead of a relic of the distant past”. (…)

Yet the use of “Revolution” by the Beatles attracted controversy too. Time magazine wrote “Mark David Chapman killed him. But to took a couple of record execs, one sneaker company and a soul brother to turn him into a jingle writer”. The Chicago Tribune described the ad as “when rock idealism met cold-eyed greed” and the New Republic commented “The song had a meaning that Nike is destroying”. Yet what meaning Nike was destroying was a puzzle. A rock critic for the LA Reader wrote “When Revolution came out in 1968 I was getting teargassed in the streets of Madison. The song is part of the soundtrack of my political life. It bugs the hell out of me that it has been turned into a shoe ad”. John Doig, a creative director at Ogilvy & Mather, remembered anti-Vietnam demonstrations with “bloody police truncheons coming down and Revolution playing in the background. What that song is saying is a damned sight more important than flogging running shoes”. “Revolution”, it seems had apparently morphed considerably for some listeners from a “petty bourgeois cry of fear”, all catalysed by a sneaker spot.

“You can count me out… in” — Alan Bradshaw on fifty years of the Beatles’ “Revolution”

To the musical backdrop of “All You Need Is Love” a military-dressed Castro, aided by star Cuban singer Silvio Rodriguez, unveiled a bronze statue of Lennon sitting on a bench in a Havana park.

“What makes him great in my eyes is his thinking, his ideas”, Castro told reporters after the ceremony, which was timed to coincide with the 20th anniversary of Lennon’s murder in New York.

“I share his dreams completely. I too am a dreamer who has seen his dreams turn into reality”, added the 74-year-old former guerrilla who took power in the 1959 Cuban Revolution.

Castro Unveils Statue Of Lennon In Havana On December 8, 2000

[destroyyourbinder]

This is an uncharacteristically casual piece but if I would fucking recommend anything to people with dysphoria I would recommend getting acquainted with your body when you are actually at your best, whatever that means to you. When you are feeling joyful, you are in your best health, when you are doing things that you like to do and when you don’t feel ashamed. If you haven’t experienced those things yet how can you possibly know how your body is “supposed” to be? Why blame your lack of being well on your body? I’ve started standing up straight for the first time in my life recently due to a whole number of factors. And honestly I don’t feel nearly as repulsed by looking at my body; I don’t feel hideous disgust, like I have to look away, or like I have to look too much in order to figure out exactly what’s wrong. I look strong!!! I look like my body “goes together”!!! Even my breasts don’t look like weird aliens sucked on to my chest anymore, they just look like they grew there (which they did) and they're part of me (which they are). Turns out I look and feel way different to myself when I don’t slouch in shame and hold myself like I’m trying not to exist/ if I have to exist (ugh) then I shouldn’t do it too hard. I don’t look to myself like I’m about to ooze out of myself, and I don’t feel like I have to retract every part of me to feel ok!!! I still have body issues, for sure, (thanks, brain, for calling me a dumpy golf lesbian when I saw myself in a door reflection the other day) but I don’t hear the great cosmic game show buzzer in my head anymore when I see my own body. It kills me that people literally get surgery in order to achieve this and that the whole cascade of shit that happens once you just un-crunch your body and fucking stand up is considered out of reach unless you pay some plastic surgeon to take away parts of your body. I mean, this is the lauded result of “top surgery”, and I don’t think it’s fake. I just think you can do it without it. I thought my breasts were literally in the way of me existing, you know, that thing you can’t do unless you have a body. Then I realized I could “survive” with them still there (yes, at first, those sarcasm quotes were definitely around the word “survive”) but I figured I’d have to live around them, essentially, as if someone stuffed an extra couch in my living room. Sure, there’s nothing wrong with couches, but if you’re not going to “use” it, and it’s in the way... It didn’t occur to me for so long that the strategy I used to live with having breasts (hiding them, feeling as if they weren’t mine) was precisely the strategy that kept my dysphoria going. I figured out that this was the case for binding but who would have thought that slouching would fuck you up so bad? A couple of months ago my girlfriend made me stand up straight and she told me, “Quit looking at your boobs like your body is a shapeless blob. Did you know you have pecs?” and she poked me in the chest. What do you know, there are muscles in there. Once I saw the muscles I could never unsee them, and something really odd happened to my body perception I couldn’t undo, which is that my decomposition into functional parts became integrated with the whole in a way that made it clear that I didn’t have any body parts that “didn’t belong”. I couldn’t see that when I literally was always fully clothed except for showering, when I couldn’t even feel my chest because it was always compressed. I was watching this young yuppie straight couple on a date eating ice cream on a bench nearby my work the other day, and it struck me how absolutely odd the woman had to hold her body in order to essentially hide that she was made of meat and had bodily functions. She was wearing very thin, gauzy eveningwear and a lot of makeup, and I guess was trying to look like she didn’t have to eat and didn’t ever get hungry while she was fucking eating a waffle cone. There’s something that women do when they go real hard on femininity where they try to look like bones and skin, essentially, large eyes and lips floating above suggestions of curves which are suggestions of sex, no connections between any of them and certainly no organs inside that squelch and smell like bile. Meanwhile the man next to her looked like he exclusively lived off of cured pig products, farts, and mustard that he found in his own beard. He sat on that bench like his ass was the flag they planted on the moon. Like his body was synonymous with owning the world. And all this time she was trying not to turn her head too much while eating the ice cream. I talk about this because I always like to draw parallels between dysphoria and other women’s experiences. Which seems crazeballs to a lot of currently trans people. But really this whole time I was also holding my body like I didn’t want to be meat, like I had to ask to be allowed to be in this world. I didn’t want to be a floating eyes and lips above suggestions, but what other option is there? What woman’s ever believed she could make claim on anything but maybe the fruits of her womb through just existing here, in a body? Men piss and jizz on stuff to claim it, they literally argue for centuries in historical and political record about which man put his body somewhere first, because that means he owns it. I don’t even own my own body, legally, it’s not even my own property nonetheless me, I can’t even kick somebody else out of it or claim damages if somebody fucks it, fucks it up. So I guess I thought second best was disappearing all of that as much as I could, disappearing the grounds for putting me in the position where I had to disappear. I thought if I disappeared what made me have to disappear maybe then I’d pop out the other side, like had I pulled some magic trick on the patriarchal universe. How fucking clever, I literally was just sitting on benches eating ice cream with my shoulders all crossed up and my arms dangling in front of me, as if I had pulled one over on everybody instead of just looking like an overgrown emo kid. I didn’t know I could just fucking stand up straight and quit having my whole perceptual field dominated by looking-at-other-people-looking-at-me, oh-god-do-they-know-I’m-looking, I-can’t-look-at-myself-looking. Does this fix my existential dilemmas as a female person? No, of course not, but the point is that I’ve discovered something that doesn’t get me all caught up in believing I’m secretly fixing my existential dilemmas. My female body is the problem, but “fixing” the body doesn’t fix the problem, you know. Because the problem is that somebody decided that my female body dictates a whole bunch of shit about my life. I do not have to listen to them, especially not when I’m alone, not in the mirror, and not in my own damn muscles and bones.