#also why is Hilary Clinton chiming in like…..

[lunar-years]

anyway my thoughts on Barbie snubbery discourse are all over the place because obviously there is indeed an irony to Ken being nominated and not Barbie, mimicking the exact trajectory of the film. And it is kind of sad to think about that and it does suck because I think Margot was amazing as Barbie, and I would have loved to have seen her nominated for that!

But also. If we’re looking at it realistically, it all depends on the pools for each category. Margot and Ryan are in separate categories, so you cannot really compare their nominations because they were never competing against one another, but their respective peers from other movies. I’m not super familiar with the Oscars or with films generally, but from what I’ve heard the best actress category this year is particularly stacked, so the competition for Margot was really hard. At the end of the day, there’s only 5 slots! If Margot was in, another one of the nominated actresses would have to be out. It’s just that Barbie is the bigger movie so it’s getting all the attention.

Also a lot of the extended arguments about it diminish the own original argument’s point. I’ve literally seen people saying Margot was snubbed because of misogyny and then in their next tweet going on a rant about how Margot deserved it way more than America and it’s wild that Barbie got noms in xyz categories but not best actress. Like, if you’re putting down America to hype up Margot in the name of feminism…let’s unpack that for literally half a second, i mean? they aren’t even in the same damn category!!! ~~ “Why was “I’m just Ken” nominated for best song and not Margot!!!” ~~ Well now how it that remotely relevant?? what the heck are you even talking about?? 😭 if you dislike that the song was nominated you should be comparing it to other songs you wish had gotten nominated instead, not randomly bringing it up in a conversation about best actress.

But on the other hand, people saying “well no, Margot didn’t actually deserve a nomination as much as the 5 selected actresses” (which in itself is a totally fine and fair opinion) are by and large just pretentious film twitter commentators who can’t resist but to go on to remind us all that they think Barbie was a shit movie, and generally act like Margot is less talented because she starred in a comedy, and therefore her acting was “less serious” than their artsy indie favs. Which is also deeply annoying and emblematic of how the Oscars and film buffs view certain genre movies like comedies in general.

Which is all to say, I generally think there are far greater threats to feminism than the Barbie movie not getting a best actress and best director nomination, lol. But it’s cool that it’s bringing awareness to the Oscars long-standing problem of bypassing women in favor of men (especially in categories like best director) which is something we should talk about! Greta’s snub is perhaps no different than any other director snub in any other year, but the pattern of female directors continually being snubbed is a problem worth unpacking! I just wish people would stop talking about it only in soundbites and delve into that deeper systematic issue with arguments that actually make sense.

[fandomshatepeopleofcolor]

with Kamala Harris being the democratic nominee, how will things be different compared to in 2016 with Hillary Clinton?

I hope this isn't just me being optimistic but here's a few things that have changed.

white women overwhelmingly voted for Trump because Hillary had had the smear campaign of the "emails" that trump dumped at her.

also Hilary was deemed "unlikeable" by the masses. (reminder Black women voted for her and generally always vote democrat) but lots of the stuff that hilary is dislked for is decades in the making. I was just a kid in the 90's but I remember seeing segments and thinkpieces about how everyone liked Bill Clinton and hated Hilary because she didn't "know her place" as a wife and a mother she was too wrapped up in the politics.

It's been nearly 8 years since Trump won in nov 2016 and we've seen the damage that can happen from a trump presidency. we've got a stacked conservative supreme court that's revoked Roe v Wade and trump actually dismantled a LOT of the stuff that Obama had put in place for a pandemic which is partly why so many died of covid in the first place.

I've had people tell me to my face that Trump "isn't racist" back in 2016. Kamala is half biracial and none of her is white.

Followers please chime in and help me out here! I've been exposed to covid and had a constant headache for 3 days now so I'd really appreciate the help!

mod ali

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e6: brainania

i’m running on like the barest dregs of energy let’s fucking do this leeroy jenkins

episode summary: brain needs to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he needs a lot of money to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he decides the best way to do this is to.... invent a country and scam the us out of a foreign aid cheque.

hm.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs!

there it is.

as we zoom in a little, we hear pinky laughing maniacally at the very mention of tom ruegger, while a couple of women are dead on the floor.

hm.

SPEAK TO ME, PHYLLIS, SPEAK. as it turns out, things aren’t quite as dire as previously thought, as pinky affirms that brain looks “simply fetching.”

narf.

“these are the only garments i could obtain. and besides, you are no helen of troy yourself.”

ignoring the fact that he chose to wear the hat and the gloves as well, brain moves onto explaining his latest plan--

but not before giving pinky a static-y poke for his crimes.

“to generate global static cling, we shall construct a massive clothes dryer.”

BEHOLD.

THE TITANOCYCLE FOUR THOUSAND, WITH THREE SPEEDS AND AUTOMATIC WRINKLEGUARD. this will surely allow brain to.... trap everyone in their clothes via static cling and. uh. allow him to seize power...... somehow......... by putting everyone in a really big tumbledryer?????

it costs fourteen billion dollars.

“oh, i have it!”

“we build a huge tooth, leave it under a huge pillow, and then fairies will leave us lots of money!”

brain tells pinky to stop eating paint chips. it’s a well deserved response to pinky’s insane, bullshit idea, not nearly as dignified and scientific as Everyone Goes In The Big Tumbly Dryer By Brain Age Two And A Half.

as he heads off to ponder an Equally Sensible idea to get a lot of money, pinky assures brain that he will not “be a bother.”

“brain.”

“if i ate a hundred jelly rolls, would i explode?”

i don’t know why pinky is sticking his ass out. maybe that’s where the jelly rolls go, in the sense that whenever i used to eat cakes around my dad he’d often say something like “a minute on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”. (also? pinky is british, so what he actually means is jelly rolls, and that sounds disgusting.)

so anyway brain gives him a piece of paper and tells him to try origami.

BUT WAIT.

“pinky! are you pondering what i’m pondering?” “i think so brain, but why the bitch stacey foreign aid office is giving chad all the money while i’ve always been a nice guy and showed her a basic level of human respect is beyond me. narf.”

no i’m sorry. he didn’t say that. pinky respects women. also apologies to the residents of the actual country of chad. big ups to all of you. lol. (he actually says “but pantyhose are so uncomfortable in the summertime”, which is wild, considering this episode was aired in november.)

brain doesn’t want to wear the pantyhose.

well, maybe he does, but not right now. instead, he suggests that they form a bogus nation and demand reparations from the united states, which is, of course, easier, saner, and far less work than Really Big Tooth. as he folds the Chad Newspaper into a vague key shape (the Virgin Tabloid never had a chance) pinky points out that, uh

you can’t just invent a country, brain. “won’t people know we’re not a real country?”

“the average american’s grasp of geography is pitiful. they’ll think we’re part of the former soviet union.”

“or canada.”

so they pick a random, tiny island on the label of a Science Chemical and set off on the boat to Being A Coloniser Town.

a long sea voyage awaits us! and at the end, we shall found a nation! and that nation shall be called!

BRAINANIA.

“can’t we call it pinkyland? or eric?”

“don’t vex me, pinky, or i shall turn on you.”

so they get on the S.S FATTY LUMPKIN and bugger off to Island X.

“i haven’t seen anybody yet, brain. i guess we’re alone here.”

“excellent, pinky. it’s time to flesh out the terrain.”

“that volcano will be mount brain.”*

“this clearing will be brain flats,”

“and that water over there--”

“very well.”

“the fjord of pinky.”

and they hoist their adorable, homemade flag, while pinky doots them a little themetune.

(*perhaps when they’re not in the middle of the jungle.)

how lovely!

less lovely.

significantly less lovely. still, it got brain to make the little O:O face, so it’s not all bad.

as the mice are scooped up onto a sphere and presented in front of this presumably-maori gentleman, brain decides to put his White Gay From Los Angeles skills to the test, and reassures pinky that he will communicate with them in the Primitive Argot Of The South Seas.

ME NUMBER ONE FELLA. OTHER FELLA NUMBER TEN. CATCHY ALL SAME SAME. YOU SAVVY?

“good day, mate. d’you speak english?”

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

anyway apparently this has happened often enough that these guys learnt english. from all the times it happened. and then they ate the guy they learnt english from and shrunk his head, but to be honest, i don’t blame them.

this is alan. “hello, alan.” says pinky.

“i would be pinky! and this is prime minister brain.”

“who is IN CHARGE OF THIS ISLAND AND EVERYTHING YOU SEEEE.”

“narf.”

sneaky bastard knows what he’s doing.

alan isn’t too happy with that, because the island belongs to the volcano god, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND HAAARM AND WHAT ALL ELSE.

(i can find no evidence that whanganui is actually a god, as opposed to just A Bit Of New Zealand. if they are, i’m more than happy to go back and edit this as would be religiously considerate.)

this is the face of a man who knows he has fucked up.

still, brain decides yet again that his pride comes before any kind of rational decision, so he decides to tell them that whanganui sent him to the island to rule over them,

as proven by his fire powers.

(ETA: i missed this last time. why is brain carrying a lighter around? that episode isn’t for a good few more seasons yet.)

alan is unimpressed.

I CAN TRAP YOUR SOULS INSIDE THIS GLASS

“i can make bubbles with my spit!”

apparently this is a real talent on the island. who’d have thought. (they do not believe it to be a sign of god. it’s just really cool.)

so brain gets a hand building brainania.

it has everything one could possibly need.

actually pretty much as soon as the airport and the gift shop are built, brain heads to washington, so evidently he holds the strong opinion that this is everything a country could possibly need. odd. still, maybe he plans on adding stuff once he becomes world ruler, or whatever.

so with that established, The Most Exalted ned limpopo gets out of the car. hassan lembeck is also here. he is attempting to make an origami bird out of a newspaper.

no bird for you, mr lembeck. no bird for you.

they wander off to go and see mr bisck, who is currently playing with a little toy plane.

he reacts to the news that the prime minister of brainania is here to see him with “oh great, more moochers,”

and does not seem to take kindly to having tiny mice on his desk, even if they are reasonably exalted.

though a quick database search tells him said mice have no record of financial trouble, or, indeed, a credit rating, so. he tells them to go away.

“go away.”

okay. hassan doesn’t take this well.

as Exalted Ned Limpopo gently tries to persuade mr bisck that he could “harm negotations” between brainania and the us (a lot more politely than he usually explains things to people, may i add) hassan chimes in with a haven’t you people ever heard of bold claim that brainania, if slighted, will INVADE YOUR LANDS

GO BOOM BOOM BOOM

AND MAKE YOU ALL OUR PATHETIC SLAAAAAAAAAAAAVES.

mr bisck does not like this idea, it seems.

as he rushes off to tell the UN, brain informs pinky that he has

“just created an international incident.”

“oh, thank you, brain.”

“in the words of the immortal yogi bear, this is dejavu all over again.”

so the boys turn up on PUNCHLINE, WITH FRED FLUBBLE.

there he is. “perhaps you gentlemen would care to climb up on the desk?”

they make it, just about.

and sing a fun little song about brainania’s war victories, i guess.

WE WILL FIGHT AND NEVER QUIT

FIND ME A ROOFTOP AND I WILL SPIT. NARF

this is not well recieved by the us military.

unfortunately, as the US press secretary points out, the us cannot go to war with a country it can’t find,

(wuss.)

so instead the mice are invited to dinner at the white house.

“in a few short hours, pinky, we shall have our foreign aid loan, and then the world!”

“birdy birdy birdy! narf!”

“i sense much of this historic moment is lost on you.”

at the white house, a very bored looking individual introduces The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo (feat. hassan lembeck), and bill clinton shakes his hand.

“me number one fella. other fellas number ten. catchy all same same. you savvy?”

“i speak fluent english.”

“eyyyy. haha. sure you do.”

“all brainania ever wanted from the US was friendship. friendship, and fourteen billion dollars and fifty nine cents. the friendship i will treasure. the money i will spend on polo ponies and cruise missiles.”

brain has a brief discussion with hilary clinton over the advantages of strontium ninety versus uranium two-thirty-eight,

bill clinton pulls this face and tells them it Sounds Smart,

and the mice bounce merrily back to mr bisck to get their foreign aid check.

“you better not lose it, buster!!! i just erased your records!! you won’t get another one from me!!!!”

HA.

“one should be enough. thanks and farewell, “

“you niggling bureaucrat.”

conclusion:

upon returning back to brainania, The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo finds a letter from alan addressed to him. it’s also mouse sized, which is adorable. apparently, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND WHAT ALL ELSE

is “blinking mad”, and the volcano is going to explode.

brain, obviously, does not believe in whanganui, and is mostly just mad that he’s lost his workforce. still, as pinky points out,

“at least we've still got brainania!”

“i sense life has taken another sardonic twist.”

still, they do, barely, have enough time to reach the shoreline and start swimming away from the imminently exploding volcano. perhaps it should have been, yknow, a pretty decent sign that the natives cleared out. historically, people who live in these places tend to know about them, but what of that when brain is number one guy same same you savvy.

🙄

anyway the karmatic response to all of that previous racism is that a tidal wave sweeps them back onto the volcano,

which then blasts them into space.

(okay not literally space. but they do end up on a little raft in the middle of the ocean. don’t ask me where the raft came from. i have no idea.)

oof.

“mother nature has slammed her unmerciful fist on our fair isle, pinky.”

“do you know what this means?”

“birdy birdy birdy!!!!”

brain does not appreciate Birdy Birdy Birdy.

“blast it, pinky!”

“i said, do you know what this means!!”

“it means you just ripped up our foreign aid cheque.”

one should be enough, huh?

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 13

like, i don’t know. maybe pinky shouldn’t have been making oragami birds out of the foreign aid cheque. but, while silly, it’s not like it did any harm. brain.... brain just needs to chill.

“well, aren’t you the tiniest foreigners i’ve had in here all morning. i’m mr appleby, can i help you?”

“yes. we would like to have relations with you. and steal some milk duds.”

“we wish to establish diplomatic relations with the us. i am the prime minister, and this is my minister of finance.”

“brainania--? oh, i remember you. you used to be a.... suburb of prague.”

“can you prove you’re a nation?”

“yes! we have postcards.”

“that’s the fjord of pinky.”

“you foreign folk sure have your own.... queer little ways.”

[clauscrayon7-blog]

The Taylor Swift Effect in Tennessee Proves Mike Huckabee Is Full of Sh*t

On Sunday, after a long career of political silence, Taylor Swift endorsed two Democratic candidates in Tennessee, where she's registered to vote. Along with throwing her support behind Phil Bredesen, who's running for Senate, and Jim Cooper, who's vying for a House seat, she cited her alignment with the Democrats on a number of social issues, writing on Instagram:

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"I believe in the fight for LGBTQ rights, and that any form of discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender is WRONG. I believe that the systemic racism we still see in this country towards people of color is terrifying, sickening and prevalent."

She also took aim at Marsha Blackburn, the Republican running for Tennessee's Senate seat (the person currently in possession of that seat, Republican Bob Corker, is resigning).

As much as I have in the past and would like to continue voting for women in office, I cannot support Marsha Blackburn. Her voting record in Congress appalls and terrifies me. She voted against equal pay for women. She voted against the Reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act, which attempts to protect women from domestic violence, stalking, and date rape. She believes businesses have a right to refuse service to gay couples. She also believes they should not have the right to marry. These are not MY Tennessee values.

Leading up to and throughout the 2016 presidential election, Swift remained famously silent about politics. In fact, to many Republicans, Swift's silence equaled a support of Donald Trump. Among the darkness of the Internet, the Alt-Right had deemed Swift the aryan goddess, and bizarrely enough, the superstar never once denounced her neo-Nazi admirers.

So, it came as somewhat of a surprise and, indeed, a relief when Swift dismissed those claims by espousing these progressive values and endorsing Democratic candidates. Certainly, the Democrats would have welcomed her support during the 2016 election—and long before—but it's better late than never.

And, hilariously enough, the conservatives who championed Swift in recent years quickly turned on her. Former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee turned Internet comedian tweeted that her endorsement meant nothing "unless we allow 13 yr old girls to vote."

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Even Donald Trump chimed in, saying he likes her music “about 25 percent less now." He also claimed Swift "doesn't know anything about Blackburn," for whom Trump has held a rally. On 4chan, Swift's neo-Nazi fans were furious with her statement, even claiming that she was paid to write it or did it for the PR.

But Swift is showing that her involvement is making an impact already. According to Vote.org, the superstar's Instagram post caused a massive spike in voter registration.

“We are up to 65,000 registrations in a single 24-hour period since T. Swift’s post,” Kamari Guthrie, Vote.org’s director of communications, told BuzzFeed News.

With the midterm election less than a month away, Swift is proving wrong people like Huckabee and his asinine assertion about her fans. This should also illustrate why it was so frustrating for Swift to not have said anything earlier. It seems highly unlikely that a Swift endorsement of Hillary Clinton would've swayed the election in her favor, but certainly it would have mobilized voters, especially those in the Red States where she's most popular.

Soon, we'll see if she has any influence over the race in Tennessee.

Source: https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/music/a23677087/taylor-swift-democrat-voter-registration-mike-huckabee/

[helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog]

ET Obsessions: ‘Dear White People,’ the Notorious Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a Liz Phair Reissue and More!

Here at ET, we’re obsessed with all things pop culture -- and here’s what we’re most excited about this week:

 Why We’re Obsessed With Dear White People Volume 2

Adapted from the hit independent film of the same name, creator Justin Simien’s exploration of racial relations in America is back for a second season on Netflix. The show, which tells the overlapping stories of black students at a predominantly white Ivy League institution, continues to mix humor with poignant commentary that only feels more accurate and timely as ever. Season two takes on Alt-Right trolls, while also exploring issues around sexuality, mid-adult crises and privilege, allowing the ensemble cast led by Logan Browning (Samantha White) to dig deeper into the humor and psyche of their characters. Like season one, there are unexpected reveals when all the interlocking stories come together by the end, with season two forcing Sam to look into the mirror.

Dear White People Volume 2 (Netflix) is available to stream May 4.

 Why We’re Obsessed With RBG

At 85 years old, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has become a pop culture icon, dubbed the “Notorious R.B.G.” by the internet and earning a recurring impersonation by Kate McKinnon on Saturday Night Live. The riveting, new documentary directed by Betsy West and Julie Cohen looks at how Ginsburg’s legacy came to be, a largely unknown journey -- even to her biggest fans -- from her days in college to her time on the bench, all the while advocating for women’s rights. The film offers a peek inside her personal life as a wife and mother, but keeps the focus largely on her work breaking the glass ceiling, which feels just as important and vital as ever as rights around the world come under attack.

RBG (Magnolia Pictures) is in theaters May 4.

 Why We’re Obsessed With Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville Reissue

Liz Phair’s groundbreaking debut album, Exile in Guyville, gets the box-set treatment ahead of its 25-year anniversary on June 22, 1993. Met with critical acclaim upon its initial release, the album’s mix of lo-fi sound and emotional honesty would go on to define early-’90s alt rock as well as Phair’s recording career, while eventually landing on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. In addition to a remastered reissue of the original album, the box set indulges fans with seven LPs including three never-before-commercially released copies of the Girly-Sound cassettes as well as an accompanying book that features an extensive oral history of the album by Jason Cohen. The May release of the box set will be supported by an eight-city June tour during which Phair will only perform songs from the Girly-Sound tapes.

Girly-Sound to Guyville: The 25th Anniversary Box Set (Matador Records) is available May 4.

 Why We’re Obsessed With Alien: Sea of Sorrows

The Alien film series made its debut in 1979, and ever since, the nightmarish creature designed by H.R. Giger has haunted audiences in everything from novels to comic books and video games to multicast audio dramas. Alien: Sea of Sorrows is the third in the Audible series of Alien dramas, taking the original novel of the same name by James A. Moore and adding a cast of actors which includes Stockard Channing. Everything that we love about Alien is here: a reluctant hero, space marines, and the Weyland-Yutani Corporation attempting to capture Xenomorphs. Also something new, finally we get to delve into the titular creature’s point of view. With the rich audio production and talented voice actors, it was very easy to get lost in the five-hour audio performance.

Alien: Sea of Sorrows (Audible) is now available.

 Why We’re Obsessed With The Bradshaw Boys

Happy Monday from Cynthia and The Boys. If you haven’t listened to our podcast click the LINK IN BIO and give a listen. We are watching our way through #SATC for the first time and chatting about it with amazing guests like @dan_clay @chinaealexander @selenacoppock and loving every second of it. New episodes every Wednesday! . . #satc #sexandthecity #cynthianixon #cynthiafornewyork #podcasts #itunes #nyc #comedypodcast #comedy #standupcomedy #magnoliacupcakes #pleasurechest #sjp #hbo #manhattan #66perrystreet #thebradshawboys #kimcattrell #danclay #carriedragshaw #watchwhathappenslive #patriciafield

A post shared by The Bradshaw Boys (@thebradshawboys) on Apr 16, 2018 at 11:29am PDT

The Bradshaw Boys -- Cory Cavin, Kevin Doyle and Jon Sieber -- have committed to watching the entire Sex and the City series straight through, for the first time, and they’ve already decided that they’re total Mirandas! The men behind the popular Bradshaw Boys podcast are asking fans of the beloved HBO show to take this journey with them as they review one SATC episode a week, with the help of some pretty spectacular guests -- including Carrie Dragshaw herself. The podcast, which has just finished reviewing season one, has already taken off thanks to the guys' astute and hilarious commentary on the episodes, and is a fun way to revisit the series, which turns 20 this year. While listening to The Bradshaw Boys’ discussion of the episodes, listeners will inevitably find themselves wanting to chime in on the conversation -- which is always a true sign of a great podcast.

The Bradshaw Boys is now streaming.

 -- Additional writing and reporting by Daniel Emmons and Jackie Willis.

RELATED CONTENT:

Kate McKinnon Explains Why Her Hillary Clinton Impression Made Her Feel 'Very Close' to the Political Icon

Justin Simien Builds on the Momentum of 'Dear White People' With Netflix Series

My 5: ‘West Wing Weekly’ Host Hrishikesh Hirway’s Top ‘West Wing’ Scenes

[viralhottopics]

Blogologues: The Hilarious Live Show That Puts Internet Trolls in Their Place

Allison Goldberg and Jen Jamula are speaking to the audience in alternatingrapid-fire bursts, with the familiar staccato of a Gilmore Girls-shapedmachine gun. It’s Friday night at the People’s Improv Theater in New York, and the comedy duo ispretending to host a terrible daytime infomercial for an even more terrible relationship-advice bookone that coacheswomen to disempower themselves if they ever want to earn the affection of a man. The two are chastising the audience for havingthe audacity to express normal human feelings toward another person.

“I hate to tell you, but your instincts were right,” Goldberg says to the audience.

Jamula chimes in. You could have kept this intense connection alive.

You could have avoided this sadness and confusion.

You could have had the relationship of a lifetime.

If only you’d understood the unspoken desires of men! they continue. “If only you’d given him what he wanted!”

And on and on they go. But while they’re getting laughs, the routine isn’t somebit they’ve written. They got it straight from the website of a guy who fancies himself a “dating coach” for women; what the audience is watching is a comic reinterpretation of one of his blog posts. The words were originally intended as a pitch for the guy’s dating-coach services, where he encourages women to pay hundreds of dollars for e-books, videos, and audiotapes that feature him mansplaining why they must submit themselves to the wants of men. This isBlogologues, a sketch show co-created by Goldberg and Jamula, that takes the ridiculous and sometimes awful stories that pervade the internet, and performs them, verbatim, as comedy.

Since its inception in 2011, Blogologues has borrowed from the absurd to perform the absurd. They’ve performed threads found on brony forums, posts written by M-Preggersan online community of men who wish they could become pregnantand stories from sites like “Is It Normal?,” likethe tale of a man who wanted to know if his obsession with burning cockroaches made him weird.

But over the last couple of years, as the absurd and awful have become more mainstream, most notably through hate groups like the so-called “alt-right,” the shows source material has become increasingly more relevant. Hate speech and conspiracy theories, once relegated to the farthest reaches of the Internet, now rest comfortably atop it. “We thought ‘these are just the weird Internet haters,’” Goldberg says. “And now theyre in the White House.”

Goldberg and Jamula are hilarious, but theyre also more likely to landin online crosshairs. From targeting feminist writer Lindy West to hacking Saturday Night Live cast member Leslie Jones, hate groups on theInternet seem to find a new woman (and especially a funny woman) to harass every day. Jamula and Goldberg themselves have encountered internet harassment, with one of their sketches unleashing “a slew of hate and death threats from Twitter.”

“As with anything entertainment and internet related, you’ll always have people who don’t love what you do,” Jamula says.

That’s what makes Blogologues seem particularly important right now. Performing offensive speech exactly as it appearsonlinemakes itmuch more than a comedy showit’s a way to reclaim power from the trolls.

Finding Humor on Breitbart

In their latest show, Jamula and Goldbergperformed a Breitbart columnwritten by the infamous Milo Yiannopoulos entitled “Birth Control Makes Women Unattractive and Crazy.” Dressed in military-esque garb, they yell atthree female audience volunteersin some sort of Catholic-school purity ceremony.

“Women on the pill dont look right and dont talk right!” Goldberg yells at the women on stage, repeating the words from the article.

“What could be worse?” Jamula adds. “Well, they cant jiggle correctlyeither.”

The rant continues in exactlyas Milo’s column does, citing a study that connects mens attraction to women based on their level of fertility, before a drill-sergeant whistle sounds andthe two shout BIRTH CONTROL MAKES YOU JIGGLE WRONG!one of the nine subheds featured on the article. (Yes, they go through all nine of them with similar corporal execution.)

It was interesting how, if you didnt know it was from Breitbart, it wouldve seemed like it was from The Onion. Its like a parody, but its real.Jen Jamula

Goldberg says the duo didn’t really want to perform something from Breitbart, but after looking through material that surfaced during last year’s election, the Yiannopoulos piece was too perfect not to use. “If you didnt know it was from Breitbart, it wouldve seemed like it was from The Onion,” Jamula adds. “It’s like a parody, but its real.”

More than a comedic reinterpretation, Jamula and Goldbergs performance of the Breitbart piece is a rejection of its attempt to reduce them to its view. By usingthe language of the article in a comedic context, they underscore the message’s absurdity using the writer’s own words, thereby undermining its intended effect. “Theres a power in this because theres a sense of ‘these words are coming from me, and not from you against me,’” says Adam Galinsky, a professor at Columbia Business School, who co-authored a study on the re-appropriation of stigmatizing labels. “Theres ashaming aspect: to say the words out loud shows how despicable those words are.”

A Brief History of Comedic Resistance

In the 1970s, feminist philosopher Luce Iragary defined this form of resistance as “mimesis,” and endorsed it asa strategy for women to underminetheir own exploitation. As a strategy, mimesis is predicated on the notion that “negative views can only be overcome when they are exposed and demystified,” writes Sarah Donovan, a professor of philosophy at Wagner College. “When successfully employed, it repeats a negative viewwithout reducing women to that viewand makes fun of it such that the view itself must be discarded.”

Theres a shaming aspect: to say the words out loud shows how despicable those words are.Columbia Business School professor Adam Galinsky

The strategy is by no means newin fact, a broader definition extending beyond strictly womens oppression was usedagainst the ruling class in 1960s Yugoslavia, and has rhetorical roots that date back to Platobut given the current political climate, and the rising issue of Internet hate speech, this type of resistance is ripe for implementation. In Edinburgh this winter, for example, four women will perform a piece of verbatim theater called “Locker Room Talk” based on the misogynistic comments made by President-elect Donald Trump in that Access Hollywood tape that leaked during the election. By repeating the comments word for word, the women aren’t just condemning the languagethey’re parading it in an attempt to get people to confront its contents.

In fact, one of most popular memes of the election was another mimesismemealso Trump-inspired. During the final debate, as Hillary Clinton spoke about raising taxes on the wealthy to help fund Social Security, Trump leaned into the microphone to call her a “nasty woman.” Instead of just ignoring it, in which case it might becomea rallying cry among Trump supporters, Clinton supporters re-appropriated “nasty woman” as a phrase of empowerment. Galinksy calls the move “a clear attempt at trying to revalue [the language].”

Which is exactly what makesthe Blogologues go from merely funny to actually important. Intentionally or not, they have brought to light an engaging, funny, and effective implementation of subversion. By bringing the internet into the real worldand finding a way to undermineits ugly partsthey’ve found a way to neutralize and overcomeit. Laughing at it IRL just sweetens the deal.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2jqEvK2

from Blogologues: The Hilarious Live Show That Puts Internet Trolls in Their Place

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Stingray

By Kaite Belmont

We drove in the morning, a sunny September day, quiet in the car, music on the radio, as we sped down Route 78, then up and up and over, further northwest until the ugly gray buildings and overpasses turned to green rolling hills. As we got closer, the highway narrowed to two lanes and began to wind through the mountain. I’d driven that highway so many times I knew every curve and straightaway, every slight turn of the wheel. The girls were excited because they figured they were close based on the landscape, but my heart was pounding because I really knew how close we were. Ten minutes. One light away. “Ok guys, it’s the next light. Are you sure you want to go?” I glanced to Sage at my right and in the rearview mirror at Ayn in the back, flicking my cigarette out the window. “We’re going!” said Sage, taking a deep drag as her hair flew wildly.

The street sign swung in the wind as we turned right on to Clinton Road.

In the jumbled layers of time it’s hard to tell the difference between the truth and tall tales. Some have the instant aura of falseness, while others make you squint your eyes with scrutiny, yet that glimmer of believing is shining right in your eyes.

This feeling, disbelief masking a hint of fear was the attitude of many when it came to Clinton Road. The roughly 10 mile long road was similar to nearly every road where I grew up in Northwest NJ: it was heavily wooded, meandering past small lakes and ponds, quiet and utterly lacking in cell phone service. What distinguished this road from all of the others was a heap of urban legends and rumors that ranged from the believable to the outlandish. There were so many stories about this road, it was hard to ignore them. Clinton Road was haunted.

Route 23 was advancing behind us, and the beginning of the road was dotted with houses. “This isn’t so bad,” said Ayn from the back of the car.

I laughed. “Just wait.”

They had begged me to go after learning about the road one late night in our dorm room full of new friends. Attending a school in Staten Island meant there were others from the Tri-State area, and inevitably the conversation, rapid and jostled as we all gasped to share our stories, our anecdotes, led us to our neighbor state, my home, New Jersey. Of all the strange things that could come up, Clinton Road was always one of them, along with the three or four other weird places and urban myths like Fairy Tale Forest, the Ringling Brothers Mansion and Midgetville.

“What’s so scary about a road?” asked Sage. Five of us were sitting around my tiny dorm room in Harbor View Hall. The conversation had turned to the unique places in our hometowns, and despite being from totally different parts of the state, Kevin, Dylan and I had already established that my region was the strangest.

“It’s not just a long, creepy, desolate road,” said Kevin. He took a swig of beer and shifted his weight on my hard wooden desk chair. “They say the Jersey Devil lives in a cave in the woods up there.”

“There are stories of a ghost truck,” Dylan chimed in. “When you drive on the road at night, out of nowhere this pickup truck comes up behind you with its brights on and tries to drive you off the road.”

I practically shouted, “That happened to my friend once! They went there on Halloween and this truck just appeared. They were so freaked out!” I leaned back on my bed, remembering hearing this story at lunch time in high school. “There’s this one part in the road, a turn, where it practically makes a 90 degree angle.”

“Dead Man’s Curve!” said Dylan.

“Dead Man’s Curve.” I said. “The bridge is haunted by a little boy, who is supposed to have fallen off the bridge and drowned. If you throw a coin over the bridge, he tosses it back up to you.”

Ayn said, “No way!” as she tucked her shock of red, curly hair behind her ear.

“Yes! My friend Steph tried it once,” I said. “She swore when she turned her back to the bridge she heard the sound of the coin hitting the pavement. She was so scared she didn’t even look back.”

The room was silent for a moment, until Sage cried, “That’s it, we’re going tomorrow.”

I shook my head. “No thanks, I really don’t need to do that.”

“Come on,” she wined in her Texan accent. “We’ll go on the road and then go hang out at your house for the night or something. It’ll be fun! We’d go without you but you’re the only one with a car.”

Sage and Ayn begged me until I finally relented. “Fine,” I said. “But we’re going during the day. None of this ‘driving at midnight’ shit.”

“Good luck,” laughed Kevin, as he put on a new song on my computer and threw his can in my little plastic trash can.

I had only ever driven on Clinton Road a handful of times, and only once alone. I never took part in the Saturday night or Halloween excursions growing up, mostly because I was just too scared. Occasionally I had been on the road with my mom when we were running late to a dentist appointment, but she too was creeped out and would try to avoid it. The one time I went alone, I white knuckled it the entire way. I was dating a boy who lived at the top of the mountain, and taking Clinton Road was the best way to get there.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “It’s just a road. I drive on it all the time.”

“Well it freaked me out,” I said when I arrived at this house, which was located down a winding dirt road. Fortunately for me, our relationship didn’t last very long, and I never had to make the trek again.

I thought of that time as the houses started to fade and the forest was suddenly all around us. In the late summer weather it was actually quite beautiful. I was grateful, though, for having two other people in the car.

The speed limit and deer crossing signs along the road were covered in graffiti, and occasionally I took my eyes of the road for a few seconds to peer into the deep woods. What goes on back there? I thought. What creepy people are hiding in there right now? They said were KKK meetings in the woods back in the day, the burning crosses invisible in the heavy foliage but the smoke rising above the trees. There were also devil worshippers, they said.

The day was sunny and bright, but the tree cover over the road grew thicker, casting odd shadows across the gnarled and pothole ridden drive. We finally made it to Dead Man’s Curve, inching our way around the sharp turn as carefully as possible. There were strange markings in the road and more graffiti on the concrete barriers.

“Want to stop and try the coin trick?” said Ayn.

“No thanks, I’d like to get off this road as soon as possible.” I knew we weren’t even close to half way down the road and I was already experiencing what my mom referred to as “the heebie geebies.”

We got around the curve to see an eggplant colored van stopped dead in the middle of the road. My heart started pounding in my chest; could this be one of the haunted cars? I slowed down as we got closer and saw that there was a man outside of the car, staring down. No phantom drivers here, but I still did not want to stop. Though the car may not be haunted the people inside of it were possibly the devil worshippers, who were said to take residence in the centuries old, abandoned brick structures that spotted the woods.

We rolled down our windows for a better look at the commotion as I maneuvered around the van. A woman was in the car, her eyes fixed on the same point in the road, as the man walked slowly towards the shoulder, gently kicking his right foot out in front of him. We were startled to hear a distinct rattling noise.

“Holy shit!” cried Sage, pointing out of the window. “There’s a rattlesnake in the road!”

“A what?!”

The man was trying to direct, with his ratty white sneaker, an actual rattlesnake to the side of the road, while the snake quivered its rattle in agitation.

“There are no rattlesnakes in North Jersey!” I yelled craning my neck to get a closer look. But there it was, slinking along the asphalt. The man was talking to it, saying, “Come on little fella. Almost there.” He started to bend down towards it, maybe in an attempt to get a closer look.

“What the fuck is that guy doing!” said Ayn.

I shook my head, wracking my brain for all of the times I’ve seen snakes in the woods up here, failing to find a rattlesnake in my memories. “I dunno, but that is some Steve Irwin shit right there.”

“Why doesn’t he call Animal Control or something?”

“Because there’s no cell phone service!”

We all started to laugh as we drove away from the bizarre scene.

Sage exhaled a cloud of smoke and turned towards Ayn and I. “Steve Irwin, that’s hilarious. That guy is nuts.”

“I know!” I said, laughing.

“There’s no way he can keep doing that shit,” said Ayn. “He can’t just keep wrestling alligators and kimono dragons until he retires, right? How is it that one of those things hasn’t killed him yet?”

“Well I’m sure he’s gonna bite it one of these days.” Sage looked out the window and up into the tree line. “You can’t live on the edge forever.”

The green leaves from oak and birch tress rustled overhead as we wound our way up the road, talking and laughing, smoking singing along to the music, trying to get our minds off the eeriness of the rattlesnake incident. I told them about the other weird things in my hometown, like the mysterious telephone poles along Rt. 23 South, the tops affixed with their own icon: a traffic cone, a light up plastic snowman, a mailbox, a bird. No one knew how they got there, but there they stayed.

I wasn’t as scared in the car with my friends, but I was anxious for this road trip to be over, and I felt myself speeding up as I knew the road was coming close to an end. We drove the entire road and came out unharmed, without being chased off it, sacrificed in a ritual or haunted by the ghost boy. I felt it was a success, and felt a small bit of pride at not peeing my pants in fear or turning around.

The next morning, we woke up early and packed our bags, excited to return to Wagner and tell our friends about our trip.

My mom greeted us with coffee and I saw she had bought the paper, which I began to flip through.

“Did you hear?” she asked while she was filling up the sugar bowl.

“Hear what?” I said, biting into my toast.

“It’s so sad. You know that wildlife guy, Steve Irwin? He died yesterday, got stung by a stingray and he just died.”

I dropped my toast and the paper, and looked at Sage and Ayn. Ayn’s face was as bright has her hair.

“You guys,” Sage whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “We killed Steve Irwin.”