#but to us its like an actual lifestyle and we are doing it unironically

[slutdge]

Honestly it is very funny when terminally online "alt" dorks get past like entry level industrial music and are horrified at the depravity like this is the kinkster faggot genre what are you doing here if youre a pearl clutcher

[artbyblastweave]

BLASTWEAVE what does steven universe have in common with watchmen?

Both Steven Universe and Watchmen are groundbreaking entries in their respective genres that demonstrate a deep understanding of the appeal of the genre they’re working in, and engage with their ideas on a previously unheard-of level for the medium. That breaks ground and clears the way for what other works in the genre can get away with. 

Steven Universe showed that, well, first of all that you can make a cartoon that’s fundamentally ideologically queer beyond a few side characters, but also that you can have an emotionally intelligent and mature children's cartoon where the character nuance and depth and development are all taken very seriously. Watchmen showed that you could write serious and interesting narratives about superheroes if you were willing to roll with the crazy. (Neither of them was the first to do the things I’m ascribing to them, but I do think that they’re what made it stick for their respective fields.)

In doing so, though, both works create/created a catch 22 for all future works in their genre. Part of what made both of them so good is that they were willing to critically unpack and air out the ugly implications of their format that usually get chalked up to suspension of disbelief, and now that that’s out in the open it becomes very difficult not to think about how any other given work is or isn’t addressing those issues- even if they aren’t equipped to address those issues in the scope of the story they’re trying to tell. Watchmen asked questions about who sanctions superheroes, what qualifies you to do that work, where the line is between heroism and fascism or if there even is one, whether the agency to act means you have a right or a duty to act, whether anyone who seriously bought into the superhero thing could possibly be doing it for good reasons, and, if they somehow were, how long you can care with the intensity necessary to be an effective hero without suffering burnout (not long.) I literally can’t think of a single superhero thing worth reading that isn’t in some way in conversation with Watchmen - you now kind of have to answer those questions, explicitly or implicitly, even if your books thesis is “Alan Moore sucks eggs and being a superhero is very sustainable and fantastic.” If you just leave the question of whether your superheroes are justified completely unaddressed, there’s an uncomfortable discordance there, because we’ve seen the extreme end of that sliding scale in the form of the Comedian and if the narrative doesn’t engage with what makes the protagonist not Edward Blake, it can feel worrisome. If they try and then botch it it can feel alarming.

Steven Universe has a similar thing going on, at least for me. It’s the only unironic, non-parodic children’s series that’s really, seriously unpacked how fucked up and traumatic it would be to grow up as the archetypical All-loving Spirited Saturday Morning Cartoon Protagonist, how warped and dysfunctional a household that enabled that lifestyle could be at its worst, and what the future looks like when your whole childhood was centered on a now-ended conflict. ( a lot of cartoons flirt with that last one but don’t commit.) I’ve seen jokes and intended-as-cracky fan theories about this for years, surrounding lots of other cartoons (Ben 10, Pokemon, Powerpuff Girls) but almost never with the assumption that the creators are on the same page as them. I’ve seen stories that are post-modern reimaginings using the same general archetypes or whatever (Venture Brothers) but that’s not this! SU told an entertaining story earnestly, and then engaged with the emotional fallout of the story it told, with an unheard-of breadth and depth. A whole season of unpacking! No other show has ever been allowed to sink that much effort into closure. That’s usually what Fanfic is for.

I think it’s great, and that shows like Infinity Train and The Owl House are able to go as hard as they do largely because of Steven Universe’s precedent- but no matter how good a cartoon is, I can’t watch them without having this voice in the back of my head going “Oh, these children are going to grow up to be broken wrecks, bar an extensive and harsh healing process that kinda hurts to watch, huh.”

The issue is that not every cartoon can be Steven Universe, where the project was to thoughtfully and sensitively unpack this stuff. It’s a fair bet that we’ll probably never see a show with that exact project again (not least because of the loss of novelty value.) You’ve got your own stories you wanna tell that’ll run their own course, mostly aimed at children, there objectively isn’t narrative or financial room for most stories to unpack these assumptions if that wasn’t the goal going in. For example, Gravity Falls had pretty tight storytelling and a narrative that absolutely had room for a post-script "where-do-we-go-from-here” plot- it sped-run the “oh no, childhood’s ending” thing- and it’s pretty telling that the aftermath, healing process, interpersonal relationships and so forth are one of the things that that fandom heavily fixates on. The narrative had such a clean ending that it made people go looking for the mess. That’s not bad! It’s how most storytelling works! But now I look at any cartoon with kid heroes that’s meant to be taken even marginally seriously and go, Oh. Win the battle, lose the war. Then I feel sad. The contrast, of course, is that most superhero works actually can be, and in fact benefit from trying to be like Watchmen, because all the questions Watchmen raises about the ethics of power are also just.... like.... the most interesting storytelling hooks if you want to write a cape thing with real themes. They’re the kind of stories we’d have gotten years prior naturally if not for the CCA boondoggle. Admittedly it kinda creates a different problem where most “good” cape media is inescapably self-referential and draws on picking apart the conventions of a 60-70-year old canon that hasn’t been in wide circulation in years. But! I also think there’s a stronger obligation there to keep superhero fans in check- if your superhero thing isn’t making the reader question the ethics of violence and individual heroism in the face of systemic injustice, you wind up with people who unironically think Frank Castle is a role model to be emulated. We all know that guy. Children’s media doesn’t really produce that guy the same way, although it can draw them in from other corners. Superhero media often needs to be self-critical in a way children’s cartoons don’t always have to be.

[adultswim2021]

Frisky Dingo #8: “Blind Faith” | December 4, 2006 – 12:30AM | S01E08

Previously, on Frisky Dingo: Killface is blinded by Antagone’s corrosive ant spit. He’s also being sued by Phil for his work-related cancer diagnosis (this plot detail did not need to be recalled! It didn’t have anything to do with the episode!). Xander Crews escaped from his captor and would-be rapist (or, perhaps, he actually was raped and we should be giving him a stand-up special) and is getting some help by some random dorks in the park meeting up to do some dork shit. 

It is the Frisky Dingo show: the show where I usually just recap the plot and then say something like “yeah this one was alright I guess” and then end the write-up. Okay let’s begin: 

The dorks are schlepping Xander around in one of the guys honestly pretty bitchin’ classic car. He learns various things, like that the hooker who blackmailed him back in… episode one, I think? She now owns his house, sold to her by Stan, who is now wearing Awesome X’s armor and being a real showboat. Xander tries to go to Grace Ryan’s house where her Antagone persona takes over and scares Xander away with violence! Before Xander shows up, we see Grace Ryan marveling at her ill-gotten bank heist gains from the previous episode. She’s unsure why her kitchen is now full of gold bars and money bags. This cements the idea that she blacks out when she’s Antagone. 

There’s also a brief bit where we see Arthur, the guy who was slowly turning into a crab, is now mostly crab. Sinn is saying a tearful goodbye to him as he retreats into the ocean in order to not be captured by marine biologists. So I guess that dude is toast. This is one of the small handful of scenes I capably remember from this show, though I don’t know why. 

The episode ends with Killface and Xander crossing paths, quite literally. Killface is seen trying to acclimate himself to his newly sightless lifestyle throughout the episode, and he winds up wandering into a crosswalk in front of Xander’s car. Xander mows the fucker down, who is now discombobulated and likely suffering from a concussion. Xander introduces himself as Barnaby Jones, the titular character from an old TV show I’ve never seen before but for some reason I know that it was released on DVD and they bleeped out a character using the n-word. Uh, sorry for knowing that, everyone. Anyway, this kicks off a partnership between the two, with Kilface blind and concussed and Xander hoping for some angle to take advantage of him. 

This episode is yet another one that feels like its main reason for existing is to push the story forward to some (hopefully) more interesting place. There are plenty of small comedy moments that the show is known for, but they are pretty tepid. The only thing that actually elicited anything close to a laugh from me was when the dorks started doing some annoying alarm noise to mock Xander for mixing ancient fantasy and futuristic sci-fi genres (on account of his robot Xtacle pants). The alarm bit isn’t funny; it’s annoying, unironically. But the third friend losing it, pathetically laughing at what is surely a lame inside joke these three share is wonderful character stuff.

[bomberqueen17]

bearselkie lifestyle accessories

so for various long story reasons involving his grandfather’s pocket knives and being locked in a house for twelve months, my dude recently purchased a pocket knife, and after his normal fashion, this was preceded by excessive research, after which he bought a kind of overengineered example of the genre from a specialty retailer. none of this is crucial to the story, except--

well yesterday in the mail a catalogue came, from and please understand that if i new how to do fancy font effects I would, SMOKY MOUNTAIN KNIFEWORKS.

While dude was cooking dinner-- his specialty, which is to take a hunk of fillet of salmon and pan-sear it to perfection in this stainless steel braising pan we have that has to be heated with the oil in it just right or it’s a sticking nightmare but if you do it just so you get this gorgeous sear and the fish slides right out the pan onto your plate like *chef’s kiss*

anyway I was sitting at the table in the eat-in kitchen chortling like a feral goblin as I leafed through this catalogue.

cut entirely for length, please join me on this ride:

Please understand, though, I wasn’t mocking it at all. I kept saying I need this every page and I was completely unironic. Possibly the best part of all this is that Dude had somehow despite being in an exclusive relationship with me for eighteen years had before this moment never quite realized that I am

super into knives

and have held myself back all this time out of sheer desperate clear-eyed understanding that I am a suburbanite now and it is inappropriate for me to own a machete. But understand that when I was growing up a machete was a perfectly normal thing for a child to possess and even use fairly regularly.

It came out in conversation that dude has never even held a machete, and like, who are we.

anyway. The item I have fixed my beady little eyes upon (after a suitable detour to howl at the tin signs featuring guns and the slogan Curious About Life After Death? Try Trespassing, And Find Out and weeping eagles with slogans about freedom and such, and several with slogans about hunting; I admit those were reactions of a possibly-mocking sort) is this:

it is a mock-abalone-decorated POCKET KNIFE shaped like a LADY’S LEG IN A HIGH HEEL SHOE this is the most amazing thing i have ever seen?????

I am consumed with a passionate need to own this, and yet, I already own a keychain knife and a boxcutter and several other cutting implements. I have no real need of a pocket knife shaped like a lady’s leg in a high heel shoe.

I need it, though, and I’m not even sure why.

But around this moment, like a lightning bolt, it came to me, that this creature, who is now I guess an OC?-- the version of me that is a selkie who is also a bear, who lives in a cabin in the woods with a hot tub on the deck, and who eats salmon by the bucketfull while lounging in her hot tub with her tits out--

the bearselkie would own this knife

and would also have one of those trucker hats with the slogan about women wanting me and fish fearing me

and would own several machetes at the very least, so

IDK that she’s an OC but she’s sort of veered off just being my platonic self-actualized ideal a bit, what with, like, one thing and another, so really maybe she is

anyway, I don’t have a conclusion for this, just take a moment and wistfully imagine this bearselkie in her cute woodscabin with its deck and hot tub, and the cute postal carrier arrives with a package and since this is a better world there’s a moment for the bearselkie to answer the door for her package wearing her hastily thrown-on cargo shorts and an open flannel shirt with nothing under it and the fish fear me trucker hat and she signs for her long-anticipated package and then proceeds to excitedly open it with this in-context incredibly gay lady’s leg-shaped folding knife right before the cute postal carrier’s dazzled eyes, and idk what’s in the package that’s so great but this has veered off into a slightly more pornographic place than I’d intended on going but boy I sure have been kinda isolated and under a lotta stress this past year idk about y’all

but prolly they eventually fuck on the bearskin rug by the fire which is actually the bearselkie’s skin and maybe there’s plot at some point when the cute mail carrier finds out but maybe nobody really questions anything and it’s just hot because let us have nice things.

[shyrose57]

Brothers anon. Sorry about the previous ask I get nervous easy and feel like I need to check im not annoying anyone at times. If I am ever annoying you though or you want me to do anything though please tell me!

Watson is close to everyone from the group, because he's seen as the dad figure and an easy person to talk too. Besides from that Jackie and Grievous are close and often train or play games together, and Jackie and Ran are close, they don't do much expect just hang out and since their both the youngest that helps them feel a bit closer. Ran and Grievous aren't really close, though Grievous wants to make attempts to become closer to Ran, potentially by inviting him to training sessions or game nights.

The other fighters from the Pit are still around! They mostly aren't around the Pit as they have jobs and other stuff to take care off, but they try to vist often. Like Genevieve and Levi come over on a regular basis to train with them all and just hang out. And sometimes Genevieve and Levi participate in the Pit's fights just for fun.

He was kept in a room in Mizu. The room was reminiscent of a jail cell, with no glass in it, and a door that required a key to be opened, he wasn't completely chained down but they did put cuffs on his wrists to prevent him from moving around to much. Benjamin honestly just kind of felt like something was off, because most people don't commit mass murder without a reason and he couldn't find a reason for Ranbob doing it. And he has reported multiple times (along with the others) feeling a strange weightless feeling near dreams room, almost like their getting sucked into a void, while also hearing a distant voice in their head calling them to come closer. When everyone said they heard the voice, with Ranbob even saying from where he was that he heard the voice but much clearer, and sometimes he feels like he doesn't control what he's doing. Benjamin and Isaac decided to block off the room and nearby rooms and made it a rule that if anyone heard the voice or felt like that to report it to them and where they felt it so ot could be blocked off.

Because Ranbob said he heard the voice too Benjamin started thinking that maybe Ranbob wasn't in control and there's something deeper going on. They specifically figure out its the mask when Charles finds it and brings it up to the group, where reports of the voices and feeling come back ten-fold, and even Ranbob who was starting to show progress and become a bit more willing to talk harshly backtracked to where he almost tried to attack anyone who came into the room. So Charles quickly puts it back as far from the group as possible, with Cletus following him to make sure he actually puts it back. Later they talk about destroying it but the question of what will happen to the possession on it stops them, as what if when they break it, the possession type thing (its not actually a possession I just forget the word oop), moves onto another object? Maybe even connect to them or Ranbob?

Ranbob does learn how to sew! Charles helps him learn actually and it helps the two get close! Cletus and Isaac are forbin as of now to return to Mizu, there are talks about going back later in time but for now everyone agreed it'd be best to hang back and avoid Mizu no matter what.

Life in the house is very hard to adjust to at first for Ranbob especially, its mostly awkward and learning boundaries. But after a few weeks to months living with the fishermen Ranbob becomes much more comfortable to open up a lot. Closest to Ranbob is definitely both Benjamin and Charles, as Benjamin is the one who recognized what was happening to Ranbob and Charles is the one who he spends most time with (mostly teaching Ranbob random skills).

Even after the fight ends Ran is still incredibly mad, and when Ranbob is so much as mentioned he growls and gets more aggravated. The fishermen are mostly surprised, Ranbob did mention there was a survivor that he remembers almost killing before they escaped, but because it seemed like a sensitive topic they never pressed him to tell them more. They never would've expected the survivor was his brother though. And the gladiators are completely surprised, expect Watson, Ran told Watson his past about Mizu and his brother (because I like to think Ran has night terrors due to Mizu and Watson is often the one to comfort him). Its only once Ranbob gets taken off to the medical bay and Ran goes to blow off steam in the training area the two sides talk. Where what they've been told is shared and connections and understandings are made. And they all manage to agree to try to get the brothers at least on talking terms, so they can talk about what happened and at least attempt to fix their relationship.

They are not! Other enderman hybrids do exist but their very rare due to complexity with passing the enderman genes. Though Ran and Ranbob did have a family of 6 they where apart of (the 2 other siblings where younger than them) but not every member had enderman genes.

They do notice how Jackie looks similar to Tubbo but they mostly just brush it off, as if Cletus takes off his head gear he looks like Quackity and of course Ranbob looks like Ranboo with the mix of black and white skin.

Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously. I do the same thing with people, so I kinda get it. I really do enjoy reading these, so really, I should be thanking you for sending them!

The bonds between everyone sound interesting. So Watson’s just generally the dad friend? How does he feel about that? Has he just unironically adopted all these dorks? Is it something of an inside joke? Jackie and Grievous sound like quite the combination. Honestly I can imagine these two either being very chill, or very chaotic, depending on the day. Ran and Jackie just hanging out sounds neat, what do they do together? Do they play games like Jackie does with Grievous, or do they just nap and cloud-watch, or something similar? And Grievous trying to bond with Ran sounds nice, how does that work out for him? Do they find some sort of activity that brings them closer?

I saw you mentioned Ran and Jackie were the youngest, which brings up two things. One, does the height difference remain? I’ve seen a lot of art depicting it as such, and honestly, the thought of some new fighters being tossed into a fight with these two, and A, seeing this short kid next to this ridiculously tall guy, and B, their expressions when being told Ran’s not an adult is very amusing to me. 

And two, what exactly is the age limit for going into the Pit? It’s probably not incredibly young, but how old are Jackie and Ran to be stated as the youngest? In their early teens? Late? Older? What kind of rules are there in the fights, no deaths aside?

The other fighters still being around is pretty cool, how do they get along with the gladiators? I imagine fairly well, since you’ve said they hang out, but are they close with anyone is particular? And what exactly is the Pit, besides a tournament? Do people fight for money in there? Do they just fight to fight? Is it open to a lot of people?

So the fisherman hung around Mizu and talked to Ranbob? It must have been strange, seeing the change in their would-be murderer. It does bring up the question of how in control Ranbob was when he first met them. Was he relatively himself at the start, and only begin to fall more under Dream’s thrall later, or was he under it from the start? And how do the fishermen feel about this? 

Actually, how young even is Ranbob? I believe you mentioned him to be Ran’s older(?) brother, but as previously said, Ran’s among the youngest of the gladiators, so how much older is Ranbob?  How old was he when he was led to kill the residents of Mizu?

I believe the word you’re looking for is possibly spirit? I’m assuming? And yeah, pretty smart of them to get away from it. Do they ever end up dealing with that in the future, or is it a ‘let’s just agree to never go near that thing again.�� kinda deal?

Charles and Ranbob bonding! Very nice! What other skills does Charles have, and where’d he learn them? Actually, what’s the general backstory for the fishermen? Is it anything that could tie in later, or no?

But that adjustment period can’t be easy. As we saw, the fishermens’ house was pretty small, and for Ranbob, to go from literally being the only person there in a huge city, to such an arrangement, well. It can’t have been easy. How did it affect him, and how did the fishermen deal with it?

In relation, how did Ran deal with going from Mizu to outside it? I imagine the lifestyle was a bit different from what he was used to.

So the relationship isn’t so easily fixed, hm? Y’know, all things considered, that’s pretty fair. How do the two groups get along, once they’ve decided to get the two brothers back together? And what kind of plan do they come up with? Perhaps deciding to travel together? Or maybe stick around and fight more? How does that work out for them? 

How does Ran feel about the brother that almost killed him being around his new family? And how does Ranbob feel about finding him again? Did he even think he was still kicking, or believe him to be dead?

So Endermen hybrids aren’t that common huh? Does that happen to be why Porkius was so interested in them? And are any of the fishermen or gladiators hybrids as well? Philza’s often shown with wings, and honestly, I’m curious to know if your AU’s Watson is a similar hybrid, or otherwise. 

Also, how do the gladiators fight? Are there double battles and team ups? Is there anyone they fight better with? What’s their general strategy? 

And how does Porkius feel about these new developments? Does he know? Help out, or let them sort it themselves? What’s going on with our resident king?

[passionate-reply]

I swear, you get caught eating barbequed iguana once, and you absolutely never live it down. That’s what happened to Wall of Voodoo, who are known almost exclusively for their quirky novelty hit “Mexican Radio.” But the rest of the album it appeared on is surprisingly serious, and actually rather dark. Find out all about it by watching my video review, or reading the transcript below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! On today’s episode, I am once again diving into the realm of alleged “one hit wonders” who had a lot more going on than just one song. This time, it’s Wall of Voodoo, and their 1982 LP, Call of the West. It’s a shame, if you ask me, but most people who have heard anything at all by Wall of Voodoo know them for what is probably the least interesting song anywhere on this album: “Mexican Radio.”

Music: “Mexican Radio”

Get caught eating barbecued iguana once, and you never live it down, I suppose. “Mexican Radio” isn’t a terrible song, but I do think it’s the least effective expression of this album’s core themes on offer. As its title implies, Call of the West is a semi-concept album, focused around the mythic image of America and the Far West. It was actually Wall of Voodoo’s second LP--a followup to their 1981 debut, Dark Continent. Despite that title, it isn’t an album about Africa, but rather one that has a lot of thematic common ground with Call of the West: blue-collar angst, disaffected and brutal masculinities, and a whiff of things strange and surreal.

Music: “Two Minutes Till Lunch”

Aside from the themes, the basic musical structure of tracks like “Two Minutes Till Lunch” is reminiscent of the style of Call of the West as well: dense, clattering mechanical rhythms, ghoulish flourishes of harmonica, and frontman Stanard Ridgway’s unmistakable, dipthonged speak-singing, seemingly delivered exclusively through the side of his mouth at an odd angle. But Dark Continent is a bit harsher overall, with more of a foothold in the punk side of post-punk. Call of the West is an album in the full flush of New Wave: quirky, tongue-in-cheek, and not afraid to lay down a bit more synthesiser. While “Mexican Radio” reads as almost disposably gimmicky, like a musically competent novelty song, I think the other tracks on the album strike more of a balance between wicked irony and being unironically enjoyable.

Music: “Tomorrow”

“Tomorrow” is, by far, the track on this album that I think most deserves to have been its big hit single. Despite its privileged position as opening track, an affable, lightly electronic soundscape, and rather singable pop hookiness, it was actually never released as a single at all! I think “Tomorrow” does a great job at being something very fun, but also something a bit daring and artistic. It’s easy to love a sort of relatable, goofy song about procrastination, but its “apocalyptic” finish turns it into something a bit more profound. I think Call of the West shines even more once we get away from three-minute pop songs and into the album’s more atmospheric tracks.

Music: “Hands of Love”

While the heavy use of rhythm machines is a hallmark of the album overall, and stands out given its rarity on such an early and rock-oriented album, “Hands of Love” is probably the composition centered most tightly around the instrument. Aside from that, what I think always brings me back to this track is the vague, shadowy quality of its lyrics--some details are familiar, but the overall picture is hauntingly unnerving. Several tracks on Call of the West present the theme of loneliness and social isolation, toying with the American myths of rugged individualism and the empty expanse of the West. “They Don’t Want Me” tackles outright rejection by others in a direct manner, whereas the narrator of “Tomorrow” ruins their own relationships through fecklessness. “Mexican Radio,” of course, introduces a character so desperate for companionship that they seek it in a language they don’t even understand. But I think “Hands of Love” reigns supreme here, with its motif of hands losing their grip...perhaps losing their grip on reality.

Besides the loneliness resulting from the spread-apart American landscape, other tracks on the album address the lifestyles of the down and out--people who have put their faith in an “American Dream” of independence and self-reliance, but failed to achieve prosperity. We meet compulsive gamblers in “Lost Weekend,” a doomed secret agent in “Spy World,” and, on “Factory,” perhaps the album’s most riveting character of all: a factory labourer whose work has disabled him both physically and mentally.

Music: “Factory”

Like so many exploited workers in America, the narrator of “Factory” has no class consciousness, and seems unable to imagine a better or different life for himself, or strive for anything more than the banal comforts of consumerism. But he tells of a phantom itch in his missing thumb, which we might interpret as a metaphor for the vague, gnawing idea of other possibilities...particularly as he remarks that as a child, he was told he could be anything he wanted. The arrangement of this track buries Ridgway’s lead vocal to an extent, though never so much that we can’t make out its harrowing lyrics. I imagine it’s a representation of how suppressed the narrator’s internality and sense of self has become.

On the cover of Call of the West, we find a mysterious, crooked door, which is just slightly ajar, inviting us into this album’s strange world. It’s the only feature in a desolate red desert-scape, besides the outline of some bluffs against its horizon. It could be the landscape of Mars just as easily as it could the wide-open emptiness of the Far West. Just as the album’s title implies being welcomed or beckoned into the mythic West, the cover art is darkly inviting to the viewer.

While I don’t normally discuss the visual identity of albums outside of their front cover, I do want to make an exception for Call of the West, whose liner notes show the interior of the implied dwelling, decorated with a slew of peculiar trinkets: a taxidermied crocodile, a spilling bottle of liquor, a statue of a buffalo, and what appear to be antique slave shackles. There’s a lot of rich symbolism here, and I think it’s a beautiful addition to the album’s themes, but I never saw it until I owned this album on vinyl! In the age of digital music, we often lose some of these more complex touches when “album art” is reduced to a single square image, and that’s quite unfortunate.

Despite having a relative breakout hit, Call of the West would prove to be the final album Wall of Voodoo released with their original lineup. Frontman Stanard Ridgway would pursue a solo career, scoring a surprise hit in Germany with his 1986 single “Camouflage,” a ghost story set during the Vietnam War. He’s remained active as an independent artist through the 2010s. The rest of the band kept the name Wall of Voodoo alive for the remainder of the 1980s, replacing Ridgway with Andy Prieboy.

Music: “Camouflage”

My favourite track on Call of the West is its title track, which is the final track on the album. Like a lot of title tracks, it’s lengthy enough that you can really sink your teeth into it, and serves as a sort of summation of everything that’s happening throughout the album. It’s got cowboyish guitars, yipping coyotes, and a striking transition to a spoken-word bridge, which flows naturally from Ridgway’s unmannered vocal style. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Outro: “Call of the West”

[arcticdementor]

Warning: a longpost

Tensions between the social effects and "imperatives" of technological developments and elements of our human natures are not new — people have been debating it as far back as Diogenes, Confucius, and Laozi. But in recent discussions, I note a rather stark polarity.

On the one end, you have the people for whom the human must be subordinated to the technological. Issues created by technology cannot be fought, only individually adapted to, mostly via more technology. The people who will admit — or even go on at length — about the toxicity of social media… and yet for whom the idea of actually doing anything about it — other than individually tuning out if you can — is anathema, and they react with horror when you raise the possibility. People whose response to widespread obesity, particularly among the poor, as a result of modern lifestyles is pushing bariatric surgery (like some doctors friends and family have dealt with). Or at further extreme, singularitarian or singularitarian-adjacent ends, the people who look at our society's increasing difficulty producing future generations, and say either that it's no biggie because Any Day Now™ we'll cure aging and no longer need future generations, or it's no biggie because Any Day Now™ we'll figure out the tech for mass-manufacture of future generations like Brave New World or Battletech's Clans. At the furthest, you have the people who take the Marxist arguments about the "inherent contradictions" between industrial "capitalism" and human flourishing… and say 'so much the worse for humanity; time to start engineering the AI corporations to replace us dumb monkeys' like Nick Land.

Then you have the people at the other end, who go Luddite. Again, you can go back to filthy hobo Diogenes for this one. You've got the "environmentalists" who see anything more advanced than being a hunter-gatherer as the "rape of Mother Nature" and who unironically quote Agent Smith. Then there's the Right-wing primitivists who note that preindustrial societies cannot afford much leftism, and therefore argue that giving up electricity, indoor plumbing, medicine that works, etc. (let alone escaping this small, fragile planet) are all a small price to pay to Own the Libs.

But Confucius, while acknowledging that the creations of the Sage Kings, in bringing us from the "Greater Harmony" to the "Lesser Peace," created a certain tension between societal requirements and our human nature, pointed out that such things, like buildings, and clothing, and fire, and agriculture, and writing, et cetera, are worth the trade-off as opposed to a more natural lifestyle as naked cavemen. But, accepting the trade-off doesn't mean we can't do things to ameliorate those tensions and try to reduce the negative impacts.

Tyler Cowen posited his future Average Is Over dystopia of the vast majority of the population relegated to being impoverished, packed into overcrowded favelas eating beans and bugs, pacified by VR, drugs, and omnipresent government surveillance and enforcement… and when confronted about the undesirability of such and how we might avoid it, simply proclaims it inevitable: the Economy has spoken, and we humans can only obey its dictates. Whatever happened to the idea that our tools and our economy exist to serve us, and our human needs, rather than us existing to serve their needs? Okay, probably most people who held that view from a secular perspective likely ended up embracing Marxism as the means of doing so, and then Marxism failed. (This links in to my unwritten potential post about how Wokism is neither Marxist nor postmodern, despite drawing partially from both.) And those who did so from a religious perspective ended up divided by their various specific sectarian views and given to "solutions" that boil down to unsupported individual piety — or else, being the Amish.

There's that whole bit about "unless you're over 60, you weren't promised flying cars. You were promised an oppressive cyberpunk dystopia." And plenty of people have covered this ground before, about how our visions of technological progress used to be about how it would make our lives better and allow us to better pursue our various human ends, but now are all about how it will make our lives worse and force us to pursue its various inhuman ends. Even the few "optimistic" visions are hyper-individualist, and when confronted about man's nature as a social animal, either insist that said needs will be met through "relationships" with individualized AI surrogates (the whole "2d > 3d," yay sexbots view), or else that the need for human connection will prove yet another "flaw" to be engineered out in whatever manner of "posthuman" creatures replace us.

I look back on those more optimistic visions. At what past societies considered a better future, before we gave up on it. And I note how even the utopian visions of 19th century socialists are, compared to our day, rather spectacularly un-Woke — and definitely better than 'soypunk dystopia, but at least with rainbow flags and nobody being misgendered while they toil for Amazon.'

And, of course, if you go further back, you eventually end up before any serious ideas of progress. Then, ideas about a better world were not speculations about the future, but about the afterlife. I recall a couple of discussions about Bleach, Soul Society, and the average Tenth Century Japanese peasant's idea of Paradise; or (IIRC, prompted by some terrible "humanity curbstomps the invading Legions of Hell who are wielding Bronze Age weapons against modern militaries" story on SpaceBattles) what a Bronze Age goat-herder would consider Heaven?

Are subordination to technological imperatives or Luddism really the only two choices? Are we really left with either the poor afflicted with starvation or the poor afflicted with obesity? For those of us who find the society "progress" has created increasingly alienated, and who prefer older visions and modes of living more attractive, is total renunciation and "going full Amish" really the only alternative?

I look at writers like Chesterton and Lewis and Tolkien, and their ideal social structures, and I think, isn't there some way that technological progress can be channeled towards allowing us — or, at least those of us who want to — to achieve a better, more comfortable, more broadly-available, less labor-intensive version of the Shire Hobbit lifestyle, rather than better digital circuses to numb us while we all eat bugs in our dorm tubes in Scat Francisco?

Or, for those of you so inclined, a better, more comfortable, more broadly-available, less labor-intensive version of the Oscar Wilde lifestyle? After all, I note that a perennial condemnation of aristocrats has been about what big, degenerate perverts they are behind closed doors — that de Sade got in trouble, more for atheism, but also for the "writing publicly about it" part? I mean, aside from maybe @ponteh2dhh1ksdiwesph2tres, where are the people trying to work out, instead of "Fully-Automated Luxury Gay Space Communism," how we might create "Fully-Automated Decadent Space Aristocracy"? Where are the people trying to use computers and AI to create a better version of the Imperial court of Elagabalus without all the slavery and need for foreign conquest to pay for its orgies?

Is there even a term for this idea, of using technology to create better versions of the past, rather than simply letting "progress" take us wherever it will, and all negative consequences treated as simply things we must each individually struggle to avoid and cope with, with all of us in competition against one another to become one of those chosen few ultra-rich tech overlords wealthy enough to escape living in the favelas, the few powerful enough to avoid ruination should one end up on the wrong end of Twitter cancelation?

Wow. Look at me, gloomy pessimist that I am, actually calling for some optimism and hope for the future. Yeah, I probably shouldn't have even bothered with the effort of writing this post. Because of course the only possible futures are all terrible.

[afoxysunny]

Robbie as Bullock

This post will probably differ from the others in structure and be a lot longer for one big reason

When choosing Miraculous for the Lazytown characters i really wanted to only use ones that we've already seen in use in Miraculous Ladybug and know how they work from there.

For Robbie i broke that rule. I don't really remember what first made me consider it but it probably had to do with the fact that i think the Ox Miraculous, just aesthetically, would fit Robbie perfectly!

So for this one i had to start from scratch completely, no reference for a canon hero design, no idea what power or weapon he'd get, no clue what the phrase to transform could be.

Of cause i used the most references for him but here are the ten i found most important

Obviously i don't expect any of my speculations to become even remotely canon once we find out what Stompp, the Ox Miraculous, actually does but i hope it at least makes sense for now.

I like how I've drawn all the others standing head on to face the camera and Robbie just leans there. That's because you have to think he doesn't care, the little Tsundere

Concept Overview:

In the Miraculous Ladybug episode we meet all the Kwamis, including Stompp, he is the most actively concerned about Nooroo so now that the Butterfly Kwami is back I'm sure Stompp would want to stay around him. With Sportacus partnering with Nooroo, teaming up Robbie and Stompp made the most sense to them.

Design Notes Incoherent Thoughts I had to justify what I'm Drawing:

Purple and Blue - it amused me no end that with the choices i made blue Sportacus got a purple Kwami and purple Robbie got a blue kwami. I did kinda dislike at first how little blue the costume has in comparison to purple but i decided i don't have to make a decision because apparently the canon show can't make up its mind about Stompp's colour either. The blue and purple can always be swapped if i decide i don't like it

Harness - Ox' are hard working animals, mostly used to pull heavy objects. For that purpose they get strapped into a harness. Obviously i had to include that in this design, the chain hanging from the collar around his neck has a similar purpose (it only occured to me way too late how kinky it looks please ignore that)

Cape? No cape? - because of the imbalance in colours i briefly considered giving him a cape like a Matador would have but only for a second or so. I wanted to keep Robbie's iconic body shape untouched by a bunky cape, also the few times he wore a cape in the show he really struggled with it and also i think it would've clashed with the tail

Tail - speaking of which, an ox' tail has that frizzy end to it but i really liked the chain as his tail so to emulate the thicker part at the end i hung a padlock there. And that really worked. Not only bc that's just how bulls and ox are kept in check with their strength but also because the oblong shape of a combination lock makes for a fitting shape and can be used in universe. You see, Robbie is not that good with just saying what he wants or expressing how he feels. This four letter combination lock is magic and kinda betrays and helps him at the same time. It spells out any given four letter word that fits his mood best at any given moment

Miraculous Nosering - if a Lazytown character would unironically get a nosering, it'd be Robbie. I'm sorry, i don't take criticism on that

Horns - he needed horns. He just did. Look how good he looks with horns! But for real, in Miraculous Ladybug Chat Noir gets actual cat ears so he can get actual horns, also like Chat he the white parts of his eyes turn yellow like Stompp's while keeping his signature grey iris

Hair - ox' are mostly shown with like bangs covering their eyes so i couldn't resist ruffling his usually so perfectly done hair up to make it fall a little like that

Weapon - my first thought of "Miraculous takes cliché traits for animals to base their powers on so i guess bullfighting is the way to go here" made me really sad. This "Sport" is so disgusting i wanted to cry and puke while reading about it. I'll spare you the details but in addition to the Matador in the arena there's other guys too to weaken the bull before the Matador kills it, one of them throws knives. Miraculous Ladybug likes combining weapons with toys so I'm giving him darts. They are fastened to the front of his harness and i think how they can be used is along the lines of, once he zhrows them with his super strength and they pin into something they can only be removed when he allows that, also like the ladybug's jojo they can fly how long and whatever direction he wants, and probably also is able to just manifest them back to himself if ever one gets lost

Miraculous Power - again, just pure speculation here, but the powers we so far know of are all loosely based on an exaggerated cartoon trope of each animal so for the ox that is hard working and persistent and for the bull that'd be aggression and tunnel vision. While typing this i get the urge to add blinders to his mask but i digress. So i made up an exaggerated power that'd fit both but when i told my test group (two people) one said "oh, kinda like Bloodhound from Apex Legends" and the ozher said "so like hunter's mark from DnD" i play neither so i don't know but maybe you do do that's the short version of the explanation xD his power is based on the cartoonish depiction of a bull seeing something that bothers him and then charging at it for as long as he can until he gets it. Once Robbie focuses on an enemy or someone running away or someone he is following for whatever reason he can use his power to keep track of them. No matter how far away they go or where they try to hide. It sounds OP as shit but think of the Snake and Bunny who can both time travel and then say that again. The catch is he needs to use it while that person is still in clear sight for him so i think it balances a little better

Name:

Do you know the difference between a Bull and an Ox? Well, let me mansplain it to you anyway

The reason i kept switching between drawing inspiration from bulls and ox' is because it's the same animal. Those are both names for an adult male cow. The only difference being that an ox is castrated and a bull is not. Stompp is the Ox Miraculous so tough nuts Robbie, literally. But making babies isn't really on his to do list anyway with Sportacus as his partner so who cares.

Anyway, I had the design done and like always i struggled a lot with naming it

But then i learned a Bullock is not only a cool word that seems to be a mix of bull and lock like his design is but it also is the official name of a male cow too young to be castrated yet! Isn't that just perfect? I think it is

Also I'll include in this section the phrases one needs to speak to have Stompp transform them into this Ox themed Superhero and for the power to activate. If you think of something more fitting for either please let me know!

Transformation:

simple version - horns up / horns down

More detailed - time to charge / time to loaf

(charging is when a bull starts running blindly at something; loafing is the professional farmer term for a resting cow)

Power: Target Charge, Locked On, or my personal favorite option Head-On. Again going with the more in depth terminology, that's what the running style of a bull is called when he's chatging at a target

Story:

Robbie lived in Lazytown but when the kids grew louder and older and he got more annoyed wih not having his peace and quiet he just up and left. He spent a lot of time traveling around, living wherever it was comfortable and leaving when it wasn't anymore. Thanks to being an inventor and overall talanted crafty person he got by pretty easily as there was always a company running on "hire a lazy person for an important job, they'll find the easiest solution for the most complicated problems" so he never really had to worry.

Whether by coincidence or fate Robbie and Sportacus run into each other and despite Robbie being a little difficult they both immediately feel strangely drawn to one another. With time going by they meet more often, at first more or less by chance but eventually they plan to meet up regularly. They might have very different ways of doing it but they share a common lifestyle: helping out others to live a comfortable and fulfilling life.

Only after Sportacus was chosen to be the new Guardian of the Miracle Box he finally asks Robbie to join him, full time by his side traveling in his airship around the world wherever they may be needed. Of cause only for moral support and such, obviously. You see, they always enjoyed each others company and sort of over time eased into a relationship like coexistence but neither of them ever really acknowledged that. Only when Sportacus got Nooroo's power to sense other people's feelings that barrier of miscommunication fully fell. Robbie is incredibly bad with conveying his emotions but now Sportacus can sense that he has potentially the most powerful and purest emotions he ever encountered. Not only is each feeling of his powerful but when there is more than one at play they don't mix together and muddy each other but instead boost even more. He knew before that he wanted Robbie to join him but that discovery made it a necessity.

Despite not being able to actually say so Robbie is thrilled to come along. Only over time and with a lot of painfully slow conversations they manage to agree to make their relationship official.

Stompp, the sassy Ox Kwami, regularly bursts out of the Miracle Box to want to check on Nooroo and slowly he and Robbie bond over telling Sportacus and Nooroo to go easier on themselves and let a little responsibility get taken off their shoulders so eventually they team up and Bullock is created.

Thanks to Robbie's hard work to better himself with Sportacus' help, Stompp's magic transformation provides him with a tail that conveys his feelings for him.

When they hear that Lazytown has been wiped clean of grown-ups Sportacus immediately flies them over there so Robbie can check on his hometown. Finding only a few children, now teens, left there Robbie recognizes them and the two form the plan to give them Miraculous' too so they can help to find their lost family, friends and neighbors and fight together to bring them back.

Wow that was so much to read and you did it! I'm so impressed and thankful! You deserve a pat on the back (if you want one) and a cookie and/or sportscandy on your way out

[ardentelle]

BRIGID MARTIN

❝ sir that’s my emotional support found family !!

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.   brigid martin / nolwenn NICKNAME / ALIAS.  bri, for the most part. but feel free to come up with new ones !! GENDER. female HEIGHT.    173 cm AGE. she was born in 387 AD so she’s ancient ZODIAC. scorpio LANGUAGES.  english, french, latin, breton, ancient / modern greek

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.    long, brown hair --- it is curly and often has a mind of its own EYE COLOR.    brown SKIN TONE.     her skin is quite fair, and she does not really tan. especially in winter, this would make her look almost sickly if it were not for the spark of energy that is always in her eyes and the rosy colour of her cheeks. BODY TYPE.    she is relatively tall and rather slim, can be described as fit, bordering to athletic. ACCENT.   her accent usually adapts quickly to whatever is common where she lives, but what is more interesting --- in regards to speech patterns --- is that she is someone who unironically uses words like ergo in a spoken conversation. FACE CLAIM.  anne hathaway DOMINANT HAND.  ambidextrous POSTURE.   she stands tall, her back and her shoulders straight while maintaining a certain fluidity. the main reason for her posture to be decent is that elena has a long, long past of poking brigid’s back when she hunches over something. another reason is that she has a rather active lifestyle, something that more often than not involves dancing at some capacity. after all --- she is blessed with a close friend who not only likes to dance but also dances well, and it would be a waste of frédéric’s talents not to take him up on his offer. SCARS.  none, her last death has been fairly recent --- if the result of rare clumsiness on her part --- and wiped all scars away, but she knows that she will amass new ones as time goes on and she maintains her lifestyle. TATTOOS.   a row of candles on the inside of her left upper arm, one for each of her close friends. PIERCINGS.   pierced ears, wears commonly two silver studs in each ear. BIRTHMARKS.   none MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).  the spark that gleams inside of her, her liveliness.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.  a breton village in the area of what is dol-de-bretagne in current times HOMETOWN. she grew up in the same place where she was born and would probably have died there, too, if not for the fact that she is immortal and has long left the area and set out to travel the world. over the years, there have been quite a few cities she would consider home, such as paris or milan, and she is confident that she will be able to call new haven home, too. MANNER OF BIRTH.  like her siblings, she was safely delivered by the local midwife. despite the storm outside and the lengthy labour, there was no complications and both her mother and her recovered nicely from the ordeal. FIRST WORDS.  her first word was ma, referring to her mother SIBLINGS.   out of her seven siblings, only her oldest brother survived until adulthood; her other siblings died to illnesses and --- in the case of one sister --- accidents. it is not a topic she has ever discussed comfortably. PARENTS.   heranal & enora PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.   her father was widely absent during her early life; he was a fisherman and did not spent much time at home in order to earn money for the family, making her mother and her oldest brother (and only surviving sibling) her primary caretakers. heranal, enora and corentin were loving relatives and brigid adored them.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.   veterinarian CURRENT RESIDENCE.   a small house in the western part of new haven RELATIONSHIP STATUS.  single FINANCIAL STATUS.   she has saved up quite a bit of money over the years and while she does not really consider herself to be rich, her financial status is comfortable RELIGIOUS STATUS.   it’s complicated VICES.  

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION. biromantic LOVE LANGUAGE.  q u a l i t y    t i m e. this can hardly be stressed enough. brigid shows her appreciation for others by spending time with them; it does not matter much to her what they do, but it is important to her that others value their time spent together as well, that they not just hang out with her because they know that otherwise, she will be upset. because quality time matters so much to her, punctuality is something that she values greatly, something that is almost a requirement when dealing with her. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.  on one hand, she is patient and does not attempt to accelerate a relationship, preferring to let it develop at its own space. on the other hand --- she is stubborn. very stubborn. any relationship that is imbalanced in terms of who has to concede during compromises is a relationship she does not tolerate for long --- yes, she will live forever, but this does not mean her time, her effort is not meaningful as well. consequently, she seeks a partnership of equals where she appreciates and is appreciated in turn. 

𝐦��𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.  somewhere only we know / keane HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.  there are many, many hours in brigid's day and she seeks to fill them all with worthwhile activities. that being said, she likes social activities --- meetings with friends, team sports, etc. --- and activities that are not necessarily social but can be done in groups --- she likes to jog with friends, work on projects with like-minded individuals and even when she is reading, she likes to do so in the company of others who also see to their own quiet activities. MENTAL ILLNESSES.   considering her age and what she has seen, it is almost surprising just how unaffected her mental health is. while she has to deal with the occasional bout of seasonal depression, she has learnt how to take care of herself during those periods and does not consider herself to be suffering. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.   she has allergies --- hay fever and apples, a common cross-allergy. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.  knowingly, she does not lean to either side as she is drawn towards both artistic and methodical approaches, but if it actually came down to it, she would be slightly more inclined towards the left side. PHOBIAS.  after everything that she has been through in her life, it is almost ridiculous, but the only thing she is afraid of are geese SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.  for the most part, brigid has outgrown the insecurities of her early years --- concerns that were very real then have become . . . unimportant as she has simply outlived them, others have been proven to be invalid. the only worry that does occasionally plague her and makes her feel insecure is that those dearest to her could find someone better and move on from her, but it usually does not take more than a cup of coffee in their company to remember just how unlikely that is. thus, her self-confidence is a healthy 8. VULNERABILITIES.  as a very social being, brigid does not cope well with loneliness. however, a much bigger vulnerability is how much she has come to rely on her immortality and how reckless this has made her. it could be argued that she has never come to serious harm and while this would be true, it overlooks how many times she has come to avoidable harm.

[krixwell-liveblogs]

I'm not sure you would like WDiR. There is commentary and the story gets deeper and more nuanced as it progress but there is a lot of dark and/or gory humor. The main character is Psycho Gecko as a homicidal supervillain and one of the few who gets away with killing heroes. Hell, one of the first things we see him do is kill a hero who was doing a transdimentionnal vlog and take his tech to do his own transdimentional blog. He kills people. A lot. In generally amusing ways.

I've already sent an ask about WDiR but I just wanted to add that while Psycho Gecko is a mass murderer the main stories and some side stories also explore why and how he became who he is and what this lifestyle does to his psyche, the fact that even he has people he cares about and limits and standards. He sometimes kills indiscriminately, but more often than not his targets are either : able to defend themselves, jerks, they actually deserve it or a combination of the three.

This is... pretty much the kind of thing I suspected. Like I mentioned, some of Genoscythe’s traits are very telling about Psycho Gecko’s sense of humor, and I did not mean that as a compliment.

While I’ll acknowledge that I don’t know much about it, World Domination in Retrospect (wicked cool title, I’ll give it that) sounds like the kind of story I was slightly worried that Worm might be before I started reading it, when I knew pretty much only that it was dark and would eventually have a “bombed-out city” for a setting.

“Dark” can be done in many ways, and I think what marks Worm’s brand of darkness as good for me is that it’s tastefully dark. It’s not “fuck everything haha rape murder and gore is funny” dark. It’s “I won’t pull my punches”. While dark, gritty things keep happening in Worm, they’re treated with respect, and they’re usually not edgy just for the sake of edge - there’s always something more to it.

For example, the precise details of what Amy did to Victoria hardly matter, because the gore and body horror doesn’t take center stage. The characters, the reasons, the reactions, that’s what was important, and that’s why all we were told about what exactly Victoria looks like now were the things that told us something about how Amy viewed her and why she had done this. The characters and emotions, that’s what made Interlude 15 hit so hard.

At the risk of making this about ponies all of a sudden: I unironically like Cupcakes. Not because of its gore (I kinda don’t really care about the gore in it? There might be a little too much, honestly.), but because of its portrayal of Pinkie Pie and the horror inherent in the entire premise. The horror of Cupcakes isn’t the gore. The horror is that it’s the cheerful pony Rainbow Dash thought was one of her best friends who is doing the whole thing, and she just acts as the same old cheerful friend while doing it. I like Cupcakes for the dark stuff it does with Pinkie’s character, not for the dark stuff it does with guts and blood.

Is it any wonder that I really like Bonesaw, then, who maintains that same beautiful contrast of a super cheerful “just doing my thing” attitude and horrifying actions, while also being a literal child who simply doesn’t know better? It’s hilarious and terrifying.

...okay, so this post got a bit off-track, but yeah. This is why I probably won’t be reading WDiR.

[earwaxinggibbous]

Top 10 Best Hit Songs of 2018

As I geared up to make the list of hits for 2018, I was prepared for difficulty, and I wasn’t wrong. Hence why there are a few little cheats here and there. Really anything that even had the potential to be a hit got on this list because the Hot 100 was fucking barren and I figure I’d rather give some exposure to some good artists that didn’t get what they deserved.

I do discuss alcohol/drug use briefly in my number 9 + 6 and abuse in my number 4. Let’s get this shit on the road.

10. Mine - Bazzi

This song is dumb. And I love it.

Mine by Bazzi, who no doubt will not show up on the charts next year, is a song that all of you know even if you think you don’t, because it’s the one with the memes.

You so! Fuckin! Precious! When you! Smiiiiile!

Yeah, it’s that one.

There’s not much to say about this one. It’s a quick and easy listen at only a little over 2 minutes. Bazzi has a nice enough voice, and the production manages to stand on its own. Honestly the reason it’s here is because the lyrics are adorable.

It feels very teenage, but not in the obnoxious way that Lucid Dreams is. It’s just very innocent despite the second line being about hitting it from the back. It’s a kind of innocence I can enjoy mostly unironically.

Like, whatever man. Just enjoy life.

9. Betrayed - Lil Xan

So I wasn’t actually sure when this song charted. I believe it was either late 2017 or early 2018, possibly with some crossover, but I’m counting it because I love this song so much.

Betrayed actually shares a lot of similarities with Juice WRLD’s Lucid Dreams. They were both towards the bottom on each respective list, they both have videos made by Cole Bennet, and they both have a sneaky anti-drug message.

Ironic considering his name is Lil Xan. Also I lied it’s not very sneaky at all. Which is good, if you’re gonna be anti-drug then just fucking do it. The beat is chill, the bars are chill, it’s all super chill. That’s probably in part due to the fact that Lil Xan has a super calming voice. This is weed music. Like Car Seat Headrest. And good weed music can be enjoyed when you’re sober, which Betrayed can be because it just sounds nice.

A good chunk of Betrayed is about the pitfalls of the rap game, and how suddenly everyone turns on you and wants your money, which is kind of neurotic but not entirely inaccurate.

This was actually the plot of a Jay-Z and Justin Timberlake song called Holy Grail from a few years back. And I hate to say it but this song does it way better, because it’s not trying to make fame out to be some horrible demon priestess who’s sucking your soul out of your ass, but rather, more of a lifestyle with very different complications.

Which is what it is.

So Jay-Z got outdone by a 12-year-old with face tats named Lil Xan, and if I heard about that my ego would be deeply, deeply bruised.

The only reason it isn’t higher is because, uh.

Oof, Lil Xan. Come on now.

8. King’s Dead - Jay Rock ft. Kendrick Lamar, Future and James Blake

So a lot of people actually didn’t like this song. Which... I kind of get.

Also apparently this was on the Black Panther soundtrack. I never saw that movie, but a lot of the lyrics on this, at least according to lyric genius, relate to that movie. Which I guess is why I have no clue what it’s about other than the average rap music cliches. The only thing I knew about King’s Dead for god knows how long was this gif of Kendrick eating corn in a palm tree.

I feel like the best argument against this song (other than Future’s high-pitched sampling of Slob On My Knob that made me lose my shit) is that there’s nothing really special about it. I mean yeah, Kendrick has a voice that’s smooth like butter, but King’s Dead has a generic beat and bars that just don’t stand out.

But I don’t know. I just love it.

This is just a nice fun song to chill out to. I can put it on, throw myself into bed, and let the cares of the day shloff off of my body as Kendrick whispers to me in the language of the ancient ones. This is nowhere near his best work, not even remotely close to it. All it is is nice and small and easy to listen to without being completely boring.

Maybe I also just like it because it’s been forever since a rap song really sounded like one. This is partially the fault of Future, who is on this song, and doing the same shit he usually does, but at least the rest of the song sounds like words. It feels like it’s been a whole decade since rap music wasn’t just an autotuned jumble, and while I’m easier on mumble-rap than most, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss good old fashioned regular rap.

Regardless of whether it’s blind nostalgia or some level of actual quality, I enjoy King’s Dead for what it is. It may just be a rock and not a diamond, but it’s my rock and I love it.

7. In My Blood - Shawn Mendes

So like, what the fuck happened with Shawn Mendes? He just kind of got really good all of a sudden. Like when every genre, every artist, every newcomer and every single is shitting the bed, it’s Shawn Mendes of all people to bring it home. That’s like if Charlie Puth turned out to be the savior of music. It’s like if Chingy developed into a rap legend. And this song, In My Blood, is about something we all wanna do! Giving up.

Okay, so that’s not exactly what it’s about. It’s about the feeling of wanting to give up, but refusing to, in a very chronological way. With the verses representing the low points and the chorus representing the swell of energy that forces one to get back on their feet. It’s an incredibly well put-together song where Shawn’s voice is actually put to good use instead of him gargling pus like he did on Treat You Better. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t emote wonderfully on this.

I haven’t heard any of the other singles he’s released around this song, but I’m definitely interested in doing so because In My Blood is an experience, kind of in the same way that like, a really good Panic! at the Disco song is. It just punches you repeatedly. You ever been punched by a song? It feels great. I wish more songs would punch me.

In a lot of ways In My Blood is also nostalgic for me, since it brings me back to an era where I actually got excited about pop music because it was important to me some-fucking-how. And I don’t mean like, I was interested in pop like I am right now. When I was littler my parents basically raised me on old alternative music and jazz, and while I definitely enjoyed it I had literally no idea what other kids at school listened to. The first pop song I remember hearing was Pokerface by Lady GaGa, I was on the school bus, and it sounded like nothing I’d ever heard before. Over time my sister began playing the radio so that her friends at her new school would stop goofing on her for not knowing any pop artists, and hearing all this new music was kind of an experience. Of course after awhile we both moved into individualized tastes and neither of us really listen to the radio unless it’s during the holidays, but hearing In My Blood somehow reminds me of a time when being a hit actually meant something.

It’s a song where you put it on and it just owns the room despite its minimalism, and with tons of easy listening alt-crap hitting the stations nowadays, it’s nice, albeit surreal, to know that Shawn Mendes is the one who gives a shit.

6. Genius - LSD

In case you didn’t know, LSD is the combined efforts of rapper Labrinth, singer Sia and producer Diplo. I hadn’t actually heard of this group until pretty recently, and I wish I had because if you know me, you know about my wretched obsession with Sia. Maybe I’m too forgiving, but I can’t remember a single bad track she’s put out. And Genius is no exception.

Lyrically this song’s a bit lacking, despite the title. But soundwise it sticks like gum, with a layered production. I always say that they should have Sia work with one of these sing-rappers, so having it finally happen is proof that god might be listening to me.

It’s like bubblegum for your brain, it’s sweet, it tastes good, it’s fun and it sticks. Even after only one listen I couldn’t get the tune out of my head. And god knows I just want the charts to be fun for once. No, I don’t think this song charted, which is an absolute shame. LSD should absolutely have the star power to hit the top 100, but I guess this just wasn’t a good year for them.

Regardless, I have heard that LSD plans to do a full project, and after listening to the rest of their short album I am more than excited. The only reason this isn’t higher up is that, judging by the group name I was expecting it to be way more of an acid trip soundwise. It’s definitely hard to compare LSD’s Genius to any other type of pop in recent years, but I feel like that’s moreso because Diplo and company have taken all sorts of elements from all sorts of pop music and sneakily fused them together.

Regardless, Genius is a highly enjoyable listen. Sia’s at top performance as per usual, Labrinth sounds really nice beside her and Diplo’s production is solid. Also I seriously recommend the music video. It’s super weird. I wish animated music videos were more common with pop, to be honest.

5. Better Now - Post Malone

I almost feel like I’ve sinned putting a Post Malone song above a Kendrick Lamar song, but god do I love Better Now.

The Post Malone conversation is still very much underway, with a lot of people saying they hated Psycho because it was boring (which I can get even though I don’t agree) and that they hated Jackie Chan because it was just really really stupid. But, much like Candy Paint, I have yet to hear anyone say they dislike Better Now. And I do honestly believe that he hit it out of the park on this one.

This one’s sort of the reverse of Genius. It has pretty basic trap production, but really nice lyrics. Possibly building on the story from I Fall Apart, though with a slightly more mature outlook, Post talks about an ex-girlfriend who he misses, trying to drown his feelings in alcohol, drugs and expensive stuff in the wake of the relationship.

A total bummer, but Post sells it pretty well.

Like damn. That’s a detail right there.

I mean, I could argue that nobody has a specific drawer for socks they don’t like, but who cares really.

Anyway, unlike I Fall Apart, which was a turn-off for a lot of people because it felt spiteful and juvenile, Better Now doesn’t really place the blame on Post or his ex, which is a much more realistic scenario. Because really, his ex isn’t at fault for no longer being in love with him, but Post isn’t at fault for pining. He’s only human. Judging by the lyrics, the story is that Post was dumped for being a druggie in this song.

Though Lyric Genius also argues this is a reference to the death of Lil Peep, who was close personal friends with Post Malone in real life. If this song is somehow in a weird roundabout way an ode to Lil Peep, honestly it does feel like it’s a good send-up to him from another rapper. Like yeah, a love song might seem weird as a tribute to a dead friend, but it definitely does feel like a mournful, sad song about longing for a close person who’s gone for the long run.

Whether this is a tribute to Lil Peep or just a breakup song, it definitely carries the weight of the emotions, partly since Post just generally sounds sad all the time. And in a year full of pissy break-up songs, this is the one that hits home more than any other for me. If Post is going off of past experience, it shows, and if he isn’t he’s just a really good actor I guess.

4. Freaky Friday - Lil Dicky ft. Chris Brown

This song is the bane of my fucking existence.

Why do I laugh at this? Why do I laugh at jokes about Lil Dicky having a small penis still? Why am I losing my shit at the idea that a white guy in a black guy’s body would immediately wonder if he can say the n-word? Why am I, a grown man with presumably mature tastes, going ‘hee hee hoo hoo’ over the phrase “I’m DJ Khaled! Why am I yelling?” And why the fuck, in the year 2018, am I actively enjoying a Chris Brown song?

Lil Dicky I have a soft spot for. We’re both Jews, we’re both stupid, we both look dead inside in every photograph taken of us. We’re basically like long lost twin brothers. Plus I do think he’s a skilled rapper, with his greatest track easily being Professional Rapper featuring Snoop Dogg, and if it had been my choice, that song would’ve been his first big hit. But no, it had to be Freaky Friday. A song that, for all accounts and purposes, is about as funny as an early Your Favorite Martian song, and yet still makes me roll into a screaming fit laughing my ass off.

I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I’m over the Chris Brown drama just because there’s plenty of worse artists charting right now. Forgetting it would be an offense to everyone involved. Do I think he’s probably matured since? Maybe. But that doesn’t excuse or explain away what he did. But for me to pretend I don’t enjoy this song would be disingenuous, and it breaks my heart to actually enjoy a Chris Brown song. In 20-fucking-18.

Everyone hates this song. And they’re valid, honestly. I just like the chorus, maybe? I don’t know. It’s hardly Lil Dicky’s best work, but fuck me. Of course I had to be the one suffering with the curse of enjoying Lil Dicky’s Freaky Friday to the point that I put it above a ton of songs that are probably objectively better, all because I laugh at dick jokes and love a catchy chorus.

But I will give it credit, this is the first popular comedy song in a long time I’ve been able to get down to. Selfie and What Does The Fox Say made me wanna scoop my eyes out with a melon baller, but of course the fucking Chris Brown comedy song makes me shriek in body-wracking laughter as if I’ve never heard a joke before.

It’s been at LEAST a year since I felt this shitty for enjoying a song, but that’s life I guess. Just enjoying bad music by bad people for bad reasons.

3. High Hopes - Panic! at the Disco

How is it that we’re having a Panic! at the Disco hit in 2018? Whatever, I’m not mad.

I mean, come on. A swelling Brendon Urie anthem about finally being able to achieve your dreams and shit? That’s really all I need on a bad day, isn’t it. Thanks 2018.

I don’t even remember if this song has good production or not. It’s really loud. Everything is loud. Do you think I care if it sounds good? I mean, Brendon sounds good, but like. Biz Markie’s Just A Friend fills me with emotion and it sounds like it’s being sung by a donkey. My standards are not high. Maybe I’d need higher standards to not like this song.

Frankly, I don’t care if the production is bad. Because this song is just good mood music, and I like that it’s loud. I want Brendon to scream in my ear about having high hopes. Do you think I care how it sounds?

No but really. It’s a perfectly well-built song, Brendon performs well on it. Bless this shit though. If there’s anything that represents hope in my mind, it’s Brendon Urie skittering up the side of a building while singing about having high hopes and his mama and whatever whatever. In a year full of dour break-up songs and people dying and abusers getting famous, all you can really have is high hopes. And that’s all there is to it.

2. Neva Lavd Yah! - Dusty Ray Bottoms

Can we all agree RuPaul’s Drag Race is kind of a hack show at this point? I mean, Season 10 was a disaster and so far AS4 has been a disaster too. I’m not even sure why I still watch it at this point.

Anyway, this is kind of a cheat. Neva Lavd Yah! charted on Billboard LGBT, and actually charted pretty high. Not the actual Hot 100, but do you think I care anymore?

So we’re all mad that rock music is dead, and that the only remnants we have of it is Imagine Dragons and other similar garbage. But don’t fret (unless it’s on a guitar) because Dusty Ray Bottoms, queen of my heart, is here to solve that problem. Full electric guitar and drums. No autotune. Just pure Dusty Ray on the track here to kick ass.

I guess Neva Lavd Yah! is a generic “fuck the haters” anthem, but for once I actually believe it. Maybe it’s because it’s being sung by a 50-foot-tall gay man with dots all over his face. Maybe it’s just because, with every drag queen doing techno music, Dusty Ray has done something completely different. God knows I was sick of every drag queen doing overproduced electronica about nothing at all.

Neva Lavd Yah! isn’t polished or clean. It’s screaming and loud and full of passion. Sometimes you’re just a 50-foot gay who wants to yell, sometimes you’re a 5-foot gay who wants to yell. Maybe you don’t feel like yelling right now, but you’ve probably been in that mood before. Neva Lavd Yah! is for when you wanna chill in a garage with an electric guitar and write songs and then scream with your shitty garage band and it’s the 90′s and you’re gay.

Damn right.

And before we move forward,

let’s hit those honorable mentions.

I Like It - Cardi B ft. Bad Bunny and J Balvin

This song really did almost get on the list, and I mean it was like a baby dick’s length away. I almost feel bad that I let Mine on instead. Cardi I am so sorry.

Nice For What - Drake

This was the only good song Drake released this year, and while Drake talking about “strong women” on the same album as I’m Upset seems like bullshit, I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t at least kind of a banger.

Now or Never - Blair St. Clair

This was the only other big drag queen hit I remember this year. It was released in the wake of Blair St. Clair coming out about a sexual assault, and while I do think it’s an empowering song, I don’t like the way it sounds that much.

Pray For Me - The Weeknd ft. Kendrick Lamar

How I liked King’s Dead more than this I can’t even explain to you. The beat on Pray For Me rocks my tight ass though. Plus let’s be honest, The Weeknd and Kendrick are a fucking dream team.

I Love It - Kanye West ft. Lil Pump

I can’t hate this. Fucking look at it. They’re in roblox costumes!

Famous Prophets (Stars) - Car Seat Headrest

Not a hit, which is the only thing that kept it off of here. Consider Song of the Summer by Remo Drive, Humanity by Gorillaz and When You Die by MGMT also in this spot.

On to number one, and if you know me you probably know it already.

1. Kamikaze - Eminem

Listen. I don’t care if this didn’t chart. I don’t care if it didn’t get close. I don’t give two fifths of a fuck if Eminem isn’t as good as he used to be. I don’t give a single rat’s ass.

Because I fucking love Kamikaze.

(The song.)

The album was fine, I wasn’t huge on the whole “call out everyone” angle it took. Sure sometimes it landed, but other times, like with the Tyler the Creator diss, it was completely pointless and kind of petty.

But the title song? It bangs.

The lyrics are good, obviously, it’s an Eminem song and he hasn’t been struggling with lyrics since... Revival I guess. The production on Kamikaze is interesting, the chorus is catchy. I just love it. It puts me in a good mood for reasons I cannot explain using words of the English language.

Maybe I just love Eminem too much. But in a year of stolid depression like 2018, all I wanted was for my favorite rapper Eminem to say “fuck” and yell a lot and just be kind of motivational in his weird way. And he did it. And I understand if people don’t enjoy Kamikaze (the song or the album) but I just can’t not love it, it makes me so excited every time I hear that intro. I feel like a child almost.

I saw Eminem live for the first time this year at Governor’s Ball. It was an experience. My feet were killing me because to get good spots, my sister and I had to sit through Chvrches. (Didn’t like them very much.) It was loud and crowded. It started raining, I was cold as shit and tired and this enormous drunk guy in a wifebeater nearly elbowed my head clean off of my shoulders just due to a lack of spacial awareness. And I didn’t even give a shit until it was over.

The music ended, and I realized I was freezing my ass off. And that’s what good music does to a guy I guess. And being able to download a new, really good Eminem song was like capturing that moment in a bottle. A bottle of white boy spite, but a good bottle nonetheless.

Of course I’m biased. God knows if this song is actually better than something like In My Blood or Genius, but I love this song too much to put it any lower than number one.

Whenever I need motivation or I’m just really pissed, this song is here for me to listen to, so I can lose my shit by the side of a man who I’ve literally begun referring to as my dad at this point. And that’s just what I want. A song that I can feel next to. A song that can feel with me. And as good as some of these other songs are, I don’t feel with them like I do with Kamikaze.

See you next year, I guess.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 16

(Banner made by the loveliest @harry-nofookingway-styles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Melody is reacquainted with an old classmate named Harry, and must keep afloat in the violent, criminal lifestyle of an underground boxer.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HI. I LOVE MY BABIES AND I HOPE Y’ALL DO TOO!!!! Please leave some feedback if you have the time. Enjoy. Xx

Snow had begun to fall in the city, blanketing the sidewalks with a thin sheen of sparkling flakes. It shifted and turned slushy beneath Harry’s shoes. A fresh shower of the stuff settled atop the hood of his sweatshirt and dotted his eyelashes. It was cold, but not frigid, and he was caught by surprise when he almost wiped out on a sheet of ice just outside the door to the warehouse.

Newly frustrated, Harry yanked on the handle he had used to keep himself from falling and stomped into the entrance, slamming the door behind him. He brushed his hood back and shook out his hair as he pushed through the inner door. Only one line of lights was on over the center of the room. The ring was lit, but the edges of the room fell into shadows. Two men were swinging at each other on the platform. A number of others lined the perimeter on the ground, some watching, others busy with mittwork.

“Ah, there’s the man I’ve been waiting for!”

Harry looked up to find Scott Dent in the ring. His arms lowered when he caught sight of Harry and he was rewarded with a swift punch to the jaw.

“Goddammit, Joey!” Scott shouted, shoving the other man back a couple of steps. He pressed a glove to his sore jaw and waved Joey out of the ring. “Styles, get in here.”

Harry dropped his bag at a corner of the ring and began stripping his hoodie and shoes. He tied his hair back into a quick knot and pulled his gloves from the duffel bag before climbing beneath the ropes. Joey lowered himself to the ground with an agitated huff as Harry took his spot.

“Tryin’ t’get knocked out again?” Harry asked, slipping his already taped hands into his gloves and tightening them around his wrists. “Or did your nose heal crooked an’ yeh want me t’straighten it out?”

“Eh, you got lucky,” Scott said with a shrug.

“Lucky, my ass.” Harry shook out his arms and stretched his foot until his ankle cracked. “Got a win count yeh would kill for, old man.”

Scott chuckled. He smacked his gloves together and took a step forward. “Show me what you’ve got, then, Mr. Brit.”

Harry brought his arms up as he moved toward Scott. He easily blocked a couple of jabs before either of them spoke again.

“So, how are things with your girl?” Scott asked. He took advantage of Harry’s shocked pause and delivered a hard kick to his ribs. “You hit that? Seems like a little spitfire.”

Harry stumbled with the force of the blow and clutched his glove to his side before righting himself. He stretched his abdomen, lifting his arms again. “Don’ know who yeh’re talkin’ about, but probably.”

Scott dodged an angry throw toward his face. “That little blonde girl that’s always hanging around you.”

“Really don’ know who yeh’re on about. Could yeh be more specific?” Harry sucked in a sharp breath and lunged at Scott, sending a glove hard into the man’s abdomen.

Scott heaved a heavy sigh and took a step backward. He tilted his chin back to get more air, gritting his teeth. The area just below his ribcage stung with the expansion of his lungs. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. You know, the girl that got you into all that trouble with Goodman.”

Harry grunted, waiting for Scott to get back into position so he could hit him again. He found it therapeutic, especially during their current conversation.

“Yeah, everybody’s heard about that mess. Better have fucked her, for all the trouble she caused you.”

Harry hummed. He could feel his own blood boiling beneath his skin but he tried to keep himself at bay.

“If you’re done with her maybe I could show her how real men do it.”

Harry’s mind strayed for a moment to flashes of Melody stretched out naked on his bed, kneeled on his couch with her thighs wrapped around his face, pressed up against the wall like the very first time he touched her. His ears rang with the sound of his name on her tongue. Then it all shifted and it was Scott in his place, his name falling from Melody’s mouth. Harry’s lungs deflated and he felt something painful snap in his gut.

“Would need a dick for tha’, wouldn’ yeh?” Harry spat, rushing forward. He threw a hook to each side of Scott’s smirking face and then sent a raging knee into his gut, where he had hit him earlier.

Scott, heaving for air, fell to his knees. He wrapped an arm around his stomach and pressed his other glove into the floor for balance. A few of the other men outside of the ring paused to watch the show. Harry lowered his fists, clenched within his gloves, and stood over Scott’s crumpled form.

“Guess it wasn’ luck after all, was it?” Harry said, pulling his hands free. Training suddenly didn’t sound as appealing. “Girls are all the same t’me, Scott. Couldn’ even tell yeh most o’ their names.”

Harry ignored whatever Scott grumbled to him and hopped down from the ring, stuffing his things away and redressing. He left the warehouse as quickly as he had come, exiting into a blizzard of snow that melted against the angry heat of his skin.

***

Melody had been in unusually high spirits for an entire week. Even the arrival of snow and the inevitably resulting slush hadn’t been able to put a damper on her mood. She had taken to bunkering down with a thick woven blanket and a hot mug of coffee for studying—an escape from the brutal cold of winter. What she most looked forward to, however, were the days when she was able to venture to Harry’s apartment, and today was one of those days.

A blistering wind had made the streets nearly unbearable. Beneath Melody’s hood, a thick hat attempted to retain some heat. She had her chin buried deep within the confines of her coat and her hands buried in its pockets, clutching at a couple bottled smoothies and a box of popcorn. When she reached Harry’s door, she kicked at it with her foot instead of pulling her hands from their warm refuge.

Moments later, Harry, in a heavy pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, pulled the door open and stepped to the side. Melody flew into the hall, throwing back her hood. Harry shut the door behind her, a welcome barrier between them and the frigid weather.

“It’s fucking freezing,” Melody observed breathlessly. She kicked her shoes off in the entryway and strode a few feet down the hall, setting the contents of her pockets on the countertop.

Harry followed, stepping over the snow that she had tracked inside. He peeled the hat from her head as she unzipped her coat and frowned. “Wha’s the backpack for?” He turned his head and found the things that she had brought with her. “And those?”

“I brought my laptop,” she informed him with a smile, slipping the bag from her shoulders to rid herself of her coat. “And I stopped at the corner store to get us a few things. I’m gonna make you watch a movie with me.”

Harry noticed the way Melody’s cheeks and nose had reddened from the cold. Her eyes shone glassily, framed with melting snowflakes that had settled on her lashes. He set her hat on the counter.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t seem to do anything for fun. And it’s actually for one of my classes, so I have to watch it anyway.”

“Do loads of stuff for fun,” Harry said, raising a hand to work his fingers through the tangles of her hair. He stepped closer to her, pressing a kiss just behind her jaw. Her skin was icy beneath his lips. “We can have a lot of fun. Don’ need a computer.”

Melody laughed—a genuine, amused sound that Harry would unironically label as melodic. He grasped at her hip and turned until she was pressed back into the edge of the countertop, closing his lips around a bit of her flesh. Her laughter faded into a ragged breath.

“Harry, what are you doing?”

“Warmin’ yeh up,” he mumbled against her skin. Already, he was craving her. He wasn’t sure whether it was the sensation of her fingertips squeezing at his waist or the unwelcome memory of Scott’s teasing, but Harry wanted to devour her, to hear her call his name again. He was greedy for it as his teeth dug into the skin just above her collarbone.

“Don’t,” she begged, shoving weakly at him. “Please. I really do have to watch this movie.”

“Can watch it later, yeah?” Harry removed his face from her neck and pressed his hungry lips to her mouth. She hummed, raking her fingers down his sides, and then turned her head, breaking their kiss.

“No, I can’t. I have to write a paper.”

Harry sighed, dropping his forehead frustratedly to her turned cheek. Her arms slipped around him and her hands clasped together at his spine. She planted a quick peck on his jaw as he lowered his hands to the counter behind her and lifted his head.

“Wha’ movie is it?”

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Melody said, tilting her head back to settle it against the cabinets. “Have you ever seen Fight Club?”

“Yeh’re jokin’.”

“I am completely sincere.” Melody grinned. “Speaking of which, when’s your next match? Do you know who you’re fighting?”

Harry sighed, licking his lips. He broke free of Melody’s hold and went to hang her jacket up in the hall.

“Harry?” she asked, turning to watch him from around the corner.

“I don’ want yeh comin’ t’my matches.”

Melody frowned, shaking her head. “What? Why? Did I do something?”

Harry trailed back into the kitchen, striding past her without a glance and opening the fridge, more to avoid looking at her than anything. “No, I jus’—”

“Harry, I don’t know why you keep doing this,” Melody said exasperatedly. “What’s the reason? I think that I deserve—”

“Mel, for fuck’s sake!” he shouted, spinning around and letting the refrigerator slam shut behind him. Everything that had been stewing inside him since that group training was now bubbling beneath the surface. He could feel anger everywhere, from the depths of his gut to the tips of his fingers. “Jus’ b’cause I goddamn said so! Can tha’ be enough? Why do I have t’explain every decision I make to yeh?”

Melody flinched, almost imperceptibly. She had started to grow accustomed to the other Harry, the one who spoke to her in low tones and liked to run his fingers through her hair. However, she hadn’t forgotten this Harry, the one who snapped and clenched his fists and all but foamed at the mouth like a rabid dog. She hadn’t forgotten him, but she had hoped he was fizzling out, that he would be restricted to the boxing ring. Here he was in front of her, though, and even with the bit of progress she had made in communication—only snippets of information, like his favorite subject in school (history) or his favorite food (guacamole)—she was sick of having to fight him for any type of knowledge.

Melody let her tense shoulders fall as she reached for her backpack and turned to drag it into the hallway. She reached for her coat where Harry had hung it up only moments prior.

“Mel,” Harry said from the kitchen. His voice had settled immensely from his outburst, but still sounded edged with that same attitude. “Melody.”

Harry padded across the kitchen and into the hall, where he found her shrugging her coat back on. “Melody, Christ, just stop, would yeh?” He gripped at the sleeve of her coat to keep her from zipping it up.

“No,” she snapped, yanking her arm from his grasp. “I don’t wanna be here if you’re going to yell at me for asking a harmless question. If you still don’t want me around, then say the word and I won’t come back.”

Harry let a heavy breath leave his lungs. He shook his head, stepping in front of her to block her path to her backpack. “Don’ want yeh t’leave,” he whispered.

“Then what?” she said, lifting her chin testingly. “You only want me around if you get something out of it? You—”

“Wha’?” Harry asked, eyes widening, his mouth agape. He took a surprised step back and almost tripped over her bag. “‘S tha’ what yeh think?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Melody breathed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I don’t know because you don’t talk to me. I’m walking blind.”

Harry’s jaw settled into a tight grit. He shook his head. “Well, ‘s not like tha’,” he muttered.

“Then why don’t you tell me anything? Am I just like those other girls? Are you—”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “Sometimes, I jus’ don’ wanna talk about things.”

“Well, sometimes seems like always. I know the bare minimum about your life. I’ve told you a lot about mine—”

“Yeh’ve had a good life.”

Melody sighed, biting roughly at her lip. She was trying to reel in her frustration, to speak civilly. “Yes, as far as lives go, I’ve been pretty fortunate.”

“Some of us aren’ so lucky,” Harry said. “An’ I’d like t’be able t’decide when I share tha’ stuff with yeh.”

Melody tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Can I at least know why you don’t want me at your matches?”

Harry cracked a few knuckles on his left hand. There were lots of reasons why he didn’t want her there, some much deeper and darker than others. The comments that Scott had made were only a small part of it, but even the thought of relaying those comments to Melody made him want to crack his head against the wall. To appease her, he decided on the least revealing reason. “B’cause yeh’re distractin’.”

Melody laughed drily at the ceiling and then lowered her head. Maybe she imagined it, but she could have sworn she saw a light blush rise beneath his cheeks.

“Stay,” Harry said. “We’ll watch your movie. I won’ bother yeh while yeh write your paper. No funny business, I swear.”

Melody sighed. Harry took her hesitation as an opportunity to rid her of her coat once again. He hung it back up and paused. “An’ tell me yeh won’ come t’my matches.”

“Whatever,” Melody mumbled, reaching for her backpack. “I don’t like them anyway.”

“Ironic,” Harry commented.

Melody raised an eyebrow as she turned around to look at him. “How so?”

“Yeh’re the reason I started fightin’, remember?”

“But not the reason you’re still fighting,” she reminded him, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She reached for the drinks on the counter and headed toward the living room to set up the film. “And for the record, when I said, ‘stick up for yourself,’ I’m fairly sure I meant ‘tell them to leave you alone.’”

Harry smiled—an amused, fond quirk of his lips—as he followed Melody to the couch and settled in.

Chapter 17

[bibbleboo]

Could we get some headcanons/more background on Abbey and Doyle’s kids? 🥺👉👈 I love the premise of this AU

YEEEEE (im just gonna ramble a bunch about the backstory i have so far but ill put it in bullets so its easier to follow lol i apologize for it being long as fuck-)

OKAY SO,,, first of all,,, doyle and abbey timeline,,,, [i am looking respectfully]

in this au, they get back together and have a sort of ‘lovers pretending to be enemies’ chaotic on again/off again hookup thing off to the side just between the two of them thru like Most of the final season, they try to keep it a secret (especially doyle who doubts the saturdays would be hAPPY if he was seeing her again) but in the end, saturdays ofc find out, probably are unsure about it at first, but she gains enough of their trust to be there for the big finale battle in the weird world mansion.

when shit goes down and argost becomes the vessel for the two opposing kurs (regular kur, and the anti kur from zak monday) and they like. explode his matter or w/e, i imagine instead of kur just completely disappearing, the ‘anti kur’ gets shot back to its universe, while original kur gets forced into a new vessel in this universe... the closest of which happens to be the unborn child abbeys unknowingly carrying. basically, what if the two kurs just LOOKED like they evaporated but actually did what happens when you try to like tape two same sides of a magnets together and they YEETED-

So thats how we have Parker, their firstborn daughter! and this... also implies ‘Parker Monday’ exists which. 8^) i havent thought about yet so forgive me on that but hoo, 

they dont know parker is kur, they got no idea and rly just assume kur is gone for good. but after they find out abbeys pregnant (which is a huge emotional trip for both of them in its own right) they do eventually sort of agree they dont want their kid exposed to that whole world of mystery. like, ik its a vital thing to the whole family, and ik these two people were probably voted least likely to ‘settle down’ in high school, but i cant imagine they didnt escape the kur/zak situation without a LOT of trauma, so while the saturdays stay in the cryptozoology field, doyle and abbey slowly pull away from the mystery and mercenary stuff, and also instead of going for big dollar lifestyle settle with ‘independently wealthy’ parenting.

also, neither of them really . grasp the concept that theyve even started a family, and are ‘together’, and that this is REAL, until around when she gets pregnant with their second daughter, Kendall. and then theyre like. oh nooo wait are we actually like boyfriend and girlfriend EWW-

when kendall is born parker is 3, and the next like 10+ years are pretty smooth sailing. as far as what the kids know/see, they probably know the cryptids when theyre little but. (tw animal death sORRY TO BE DARK I JUST??????) idk,, how long komodo dragons live/how old komodo already is and i definitely dont know Anything about giant prehistoric birds and am not even sure if science knows that lifespan, so. im not sure how long they could really be in each others lives??? i almost imagine parker would have memories of them that she assumes she remembers wrong, like “oh yeah they used to have a lizard and a bird... my imaginative little kid brain thought they were a komodo dragon and a dinosaur”, and as for fisk im still working on it but i . actually kind of imagine he might have a much longer lifespan (since lemurians are like ancient or w/e? and also if hes by dna like a gorilla cat or w/e gorillas at least live long af) and also feel like once he got older and settled down a bit he might live somewhere in the woods, maybe even his old tree? and the saturdays see him ALL the time obviously, but hey zaks gotta go to college eventually, a gorilla cats gotta eat bugs in forest, we all have to grow up and leave the nest sometime,

so idk the last time parker has actually seen fisk and she might assume he was an imaginary friend or smth but, 1. if i do write a fic they absolutely have to meet again, 2. overall the vibe is they know the saturdays are cryptozoologists, like, the same way josh gates does destination truth, seeking answers and studying, they dont really. know that theyre REAL. to them its like, a hypothetical science. (this is also part of why they dont realize parker is kur, she isnt around cryptids and therefore whenever her powers would actually show up they wouldnt be recognized) anyways parker isnt embarrassed or put off by it but just thinks its a little wacky, meanwhile kendall is obsessed with the world of mystery/paranormal/cryptic lol

speaking of the girls personalities;;;

parker is like. not really normie/preppy, even if she seems it at first glance, shes nice and has a good head on her shoulders but also is a teenage girl (inherently unhinged) and shes THEIR teenage girl (+5 feral) so despite her success and charm shes also very witty/crass when she wants to be, and deep down shes closer to the kind of person that would on pure inexplicable instinct put something random in your mouth when you’re yawning so you bite down on it afterwards. or like. that video of the girl singing in the bathroom while her friends curl their hair and she grabs the curler to use as a microphone before realizing its burning hot??? shes. the voice of reason, but the voice is usually shrieking in fear, making a cursed joke, or half the time whatever shes saying is actually smart. she kinda wants to go to college and travel, but struggles with indecisiveness and anxiety, so she has no idea where to go, what to major in, etc. and is again kinda just livin thru the typical teen life in that regard

kendall on the other hand is like. weird kid culture, the kind of kid that believes they are secretly a new supernatural creature each year (mermaid phase, werewolf phase, alien phase, etc), probably completely accidentally starts cults or witch covens at school (didnt realize teaching peers how to become ‘blood brothers’ and ‘make potions’ from puddles and stolen school supplies would be taken so seriously by parents) , very into emo/scene/punk/alt culture but not rly in an overtly dark/edgy way, more of a having fun and expressing self way. she wants answers for everything, really loves mysteries and being open minded, and definitely a rebel/adventurer at heart, even if she gets naive or in over her head sometimes.

the girls get along well! parker is not dismissive of kendall she just. isnt really into the same stuff/is more freaked out by it most of the time, but she would tag along on certain adventures, especially if it was to keep her safe. and kendall definitely directs gentle mockery towards parker a lot but does see her as a good role model and guiding figure, their bond is really strong!

other details !

doyle and abbey prob decide to say fuck it and get married after kendall is born, they probably have a few rough patches but nothing is more important to them than the kids now and in the end they understand each other better than anyone else so . canon tension idk her! family ftw! power couple! they intimidate the teacher during parent teacher conferences together hand in shady little hand !

their parenting style is exactly what one would imagine, 70% fun and sass and controlled chaos where theyre the bigger children than their children, 15% ‘this is how you hack the government and dual wield swords-- i was not supposed to teach you that im sorry’, and 15% actual guidance / emotional depth / etc. flaws might be overcoming their own immaturity for the first few years, and then being lowkey overly protective (while claiming they arent, but just bc you semi jokingly tell parker she should join the football team doesnt mean you dont actually hide 60% of ur life from her and check that her bedroom windows are locked every night and have 24 people listed in her school emergency contacts and used to cut up her food till she was 7 and-)

so abouT THE BABY BOY (Phoenix), 1. his middle name is leonidas bc im gay and i love emotional turmoil babes , 2. fully unironically the idea behind such a late pregnancy is abbey would be mid fourties when hes born right. so like. [has two kids] ‘ok birth control time’ [when theyre teens many years later] ‘ok im old enough to stop taking this’ [the hyperfertility curse that plagues many women rears its ugly head with one last hoo-rah]

and finALLY a very quick elevator pitch of what id write an actual fic to focus on;;; kendall sneaks into the attic to look for old shit bc they BOTH know their parents have been hiding stuff over the years, she finds things like a cryptopedia (now offline), the claw, maybe even a piece of the kur stone, and ropes parker into the long haul of figuring out what all this stuff is. and ofc the second they ever find the naga relic and parker comes face to face with it, [rest in rip] time for mom and dad to find out and all this kur shit to start ALL over again-

[tediousoscars]

2019

Predict-o-meter: This year: 9/11; Total: 108/134 (83%)

Welcome, welcome one and all to this year’s diatribe concerning all things Oscar.

With one glaring exception (see if you can spot it) this year’s class is solid with some soaring achievements at the top and a lot of really solid work through the middle.

So without further ado, let’s get to it ...

- THE CONTENDERS -

1917. In most war movies the MacGuffin is winning: a skirmish, a battle, a campaign, or, ultimately the war. In “1917” the goal is to call off an attack; to avoid a battle. Most war movies focus on the big picture: strategy, troop movements, etc. “1917” focuses on a single soldier embarking on a single mission for a single day. “1917” is not most war movies. The Germans have executed a strategic retreat and established a new defensive position. A zealous British commander is in hot pursuit, but Command has learned - through the new-fangled technology of aerial photography - that he is charging into a trap. No telegraph lines have yet been laid to the forward position, and radio is not quite a thing yet, so the only way to warn the commander is to send soldiers across no-man’s land, across the previous German line, across the French countryside to deliver the message in person. What follows is a quixotic quest full of constant fear and tension across a landscape made bizarre by the ravages and awful logic of war. It is a saga of commonplace heroism, of a man randomly plucked from obscurity, given an awesome, nigh-impossible task, and rising to the occasion for no other reason than it is his job. The film is expertly paced and while moments of sheer panic are rare, moments of relaxation are nonexistent. Though the time-honored message - war is hell - is definitely there, it is not driven home in the typical, ham-fisted way, and the final scene in which our hero collapses against a tree and gazes out at an idyllic sunlit pasture feels more triumphant than any victory brought about by explosions and bullets.

Jojo Rabbit. I often like to go into these films with no knowledge in order to avoid preconceptions, an approach that was a little jarring in this case, at least at first. In “Jojo Rabbit” director Taika Waititi creates a vivid, slightly out-in-leftfield world that will be familiar to fans of Wes Anderson (particularly “Moonrise Kingdom”). However, Anderson’s Boy Scouts have been replaced (as the vaguely authoritarian and hierarchical children’s organization central to the film) by the Nazi’s Hitler Youth. The opening scenes in which an excited 10yo Johannes "Jojo" Betzler bounces around his room in full Nazi regalia chattering away with his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler (“C’mon, now ... Heil me!”), as he prepares for Nazi training camp are downright off-putting at a visceral level. For a second I thought I’d stumbled into an unironic production of “Springtime for Hitler.” But soon enough you realize that you are seeing the world through Jojo’s young eyes, and that he is a sensitive, insecure boy who is desperate for acceptance. Jojo uncritically accepts the worst Nazi propaganda about the Jews to the point that when he actually meets a Jewish girl he asks where her horns are (“They don’t grow in until you are 21,” she coyly replies). What follows is a complex tale of human drama told from a persistently childish (in the best sense of that word) perspective. The fact that it doesn’t just fly apart into an incoherent mess is a testament to Waititi’s skill as a director (WHY was he not nominated?) and a story that starts out uncomfortably off-putting ends up being thought-provoking and heartwarming. This film defies all expectation and should not be missed.

Little Women. A fresh take on a much-beloved classic, “Little Women” follows a family of 4 sisters through late childhood and early adulthood as they struggle with questions of marriage and career through the lens of an 18th-century culture that has quite definite opinions on these matters. The sisters are well cast and have good chemistry. Two of them - Saoirse Ronan as Jo and Florence Pugh as Amy - were nominated for their trouble. Throw in Laura Dern as Marmee and Meryl Streep as the irrepressible Aunt March and you’ve got a powerhouse cast that drives the film forward and keeps things lively. The storytelling is deft throughout, but for my money the best part is at the end when Jo suddenly and inexplicably agrees to marry a minor character from early in the film that she didn’t even seem to like. It all feels very out of character and more than a little deus ex machina, until the coda showing Jo haggling with her publisher over the publication of her book. When he insists that the main female character must be married (or dead, either is fine) by the end of the book, she reluctantly agrees but asks for more money in return. “If I’m going to sell my heroine into marriage for money, I might as well get some of it,” she declares, adding a nice meta twist that makes Jo’s sudden nuptials not only understandable but downright delectable.

Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood. Director Quentin Tarantino (nominated) returns to a vein he previously mined in 2009’s “Inglorious Basterds”: The alternate-history black comedy. This time out, however, the group upon which he unleashes ahistorical vengeance is not the Nazis, but the Manson Family. Set in 1969 Hollywood in a reality not too far from our own, “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood” follows Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio in a nominated role) as an aging TV cowboy who flies to Italy to make Spaghetti Westerns in an attempt to salvage his career. His constant companion, stunt double, and manservant is Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt, also nominated), a man of immense talent, but no ambition, who is content to carry Rick’s water as long as it doesn’t interfere with his generally zen lifestyle. What follows is a fascinating character study of the two men as they navigate the politics of Hollywood. Rick, in particular, pursues relevance with the panicked desperation that only middle-aged white men can achieve. But the show is consistently stolen by Pitt’s portrayal of Cliff as some combination of ronin samurai and burnt-out hippy. In every situation Cliff knows exactly what to do and how to do it at the same time that his motivation seems to be little more than, “Well, why not?” It’s breathtaking to watch. The Manson Family, for their part, play a minor, oblique role through most of the film, only to fall victim to Tarantino’s signature cartoonish uber-violence in the film’s climax. Never before has someone being set on fire been this laugh-out-loud funny. “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood” is like a rollercoaster: don’t over-analyze it, just enjoy the ride. And it is a very enjoyable ride.

Parasite. This is another film I walked into with no foreknowledge and ended up being very pleasantly surprised. “Parasite” is a film from Korea that at its core is about income inequality, but the lens that it uses to examine this phenomenon is unique. “Parasite” follows the Kims, a downtrodden, working-class family of four barely scraping by in the slums of Seoul. Son Ki-Woo is very smart, but can’t afford to attend college like his friend Min-Hyuk, so when Min-Hyuk has a chance to study abroad he asks Ki-Woo to pose as a college student and take over his position tutoring the daughter of the rich Park family. Ki-Woo does so, and through a series of increasingly hilarious hijinks the entire Kim family becomes employed by the Parks in different capacities. The contrast between the capable, sensible, but poor Kims and the clueless but rich Parks is played to maximal comic effect, and you think this is an enjoyable romp and you pretty much know where it’s going. When all of a sudden, in the middle of the second act, the entire film takes a jarring left turn and sends you careening into bizarre, unexplored territory. I won’t spoil it for you, but director Bong Joon Ho richly deserves his nomination for crafting such a compelling story that completely defies expectations.

- THE PRETENDERS -

Ford v Ferrari. This is the true story of how legendary driver and car designer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) teamed up with the Ford Motor Company to take on Enzo Ferrari and win Le Mans. Central to the effort is the cantankerous Ken Miles (played with verve and gusto by Christian Bale), a British driver and engineer who is obsessed with racing to the exclusion of almost everything else, especially social niceties. When an ambitious, young Lee Iacocca proposes that Ford buy the ailing Ferrari, only to be humiliated by Enzo himself, Henry Ford II (aka “The Deuce”) declares war on Ferrari’s beloved racing team and their dominance at Le Mans. Shelby is recruited as one of a very few Americans to have ever won that race, and he insists on bringing along Miles as one of the few people who share his burning, all-consuming passion for racing. But Ken’s brash, irreverent style conflicts with Ford’s corporate image, and there ensues a protracted battle between Shelby and “the suits.” This is all handled deftly. The interpersonal struggles are well-motivated and feel real, the racing scenes are exciting, and the ultimate, somewhat mixed climax feels very satisfying. Definitely a very good movie, just not a great one.

The Irishman. Pacino. De Niro. Pesci. Keitel. Scorsese. Must be a gangster movie. This time around Scorsese takes on True Crime by studying the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of one-time Teamsters President Jimmy Hoffa (played by Al Pacino in a nominated role that is more than a little ironic given Hoffa’s frequent anti-Italian tirades). The titular Irishman is Frank Sheeran (De Niro); a Teamsters driver, turned scam artist, turned Mob enforcer, turned Hoffa confidant and Union Local President. All of the clichéd gangster tropes are here: the steak dinners, the smoke-filled rooms, the bizarre, posturing pseudo-conversations where nothing is actually said, but everybody “gets the message,” the sudden, brutal violence. All of it. And it is all executed expertly, being second nature to this team by this point. But for my money the film really revolves around Sheeran’s daughter, Peggy (played by Lucy Gallina as a child and Anna Paquin as an adult). Even as a child Peggy sees through the bluff and bluster of Mafia “honor” to its brutal core of senseless violence, and she holds her father in distain for it. This particularly rankles Sheeran’s Don and protector Russell Bufalino (Joe Pesci, also nominated), whose lifelong efforts to curry favor with Peggy come to naught. And when Peggy takes a shine to Jimmy Hoffa, seeing him as an honorable man helping people live better lives, Russell’s knickers are well and truly twisted. After Hoffa’s disappearance (the film makes no mystery of it, but I won’t spoil it) Peggy and Frank become fully estranged. Towards the end of his life Frank feels compelled to make a furtive attempt at reconciliation, but offers no remorse nor even any understanding of why Peggy stopped talking to him in the first place. The film ends with Sheeran alone and forgotten in a nursing home, being interviewed by some FBI agents still desperately trying to close the Hoffa case. They point out to him that all of his compatriots are dead, running through a roll call of the characters we have been watching for the past two hours. “Who are you protecting?” they ask. Sheeran has no answer, but offers no assistance, for in the end his loyalty was all he ever had.

Joker. Not since 2012’s “Les Misérables” has a movie been as monotonously bleak as “Joker.” Purportedly the origin story of Batman’s nemesis, “Joker” is a Chinese water torture of debasement and degradation. There’s no real theme or plot; just drip drip drip of indignities piled one upon the other. For hours. The titular Joker doesn’t even emerge from the tortured psyche of Arthur Fleck (played by Joaquin Phoenix in a nominated role) until the film’s waning moments, and even then he is literally just a crazy clown with a gun; hardly a suitable foil for the Batman. Phoenix gamely portrays an abused, antisocial misfit, but the skill with which he applies his craft is not put to any greater purpose. There’s no redemption here, or even a moral, just misery piled upon a man who has always been miserable and always will be. Each year there are at least one or two nominations that I cannot understand. With “Joker,” not only do I fail to understand the nomination, I can’t even understand why it was MADE.

Marriage Story. Meet the Barbers, Charlie and Nicole. They are beautiful (looking exactly like Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson - both nominated) and accomplished: he a playwright and director in New York’s theater community, she a star of stage and screen and Charlie’s favorite leading lady. When Nicole is offered a TV pilot shooting in Hollywood she decides to take son Henry with her, but removed from Charlie’s directorial dictates and suffocating ambition she decides to never go back. What follows is a bi-coastal divorce proceeding and custody battle that pits two people against each other who actually like and admire ~90% of the other, but just can’t reconcile the other 10%. The Barbers have different goals and agendas, but no real animus towards each other. However, the only system available to them for moving forward is one designed along ruthless, winner-take-all grounds. This leads to much conflict and soul-searching. Eventually, through introspection and growth, they manage to achieve something approaching a conscious uncoupling without scarring Henry too much in the process.

So which SHOULD win?

There were a lot of very good, enjoyable films in the class, but only 3 that really made you think about film as an art form and its capabilities: “1917,” “Jojo Rabbit,” and “Parasite.” Of these three Jojo Rabbit was both the most thought-provoking and the most straight-up enjoyable. My pick for the best movie of 2019 is: Jojo Rabbit.

But which WILL win?

“1917” appears to be the favorite, with “Parasite” a potential dark horse. I’m going with “1917,” and I can’t quibble too much; it’s a really good film.

And in the other categories ...

Best Actress: Renee Zellweger looks like a lock for her role in “Judy.”

Best Supporting Actress: Laura Dern should win here, not for being the mother of the Little Women, but for being the glamorous, “take no prisoners” Hollywood divorce lawyer in “Marriage Story.”

Best Actor: Joaquin Phoenix should follow in Heath Ledger’s footsteps by winning an Oscar portraying the Joker. While I am loathe to see this depressing trainwreck of a film garner any accolades, I must grudgingly admit that Phoenix gives a powerful performance. Still not worth seeing the film, however.

Best Supporting Actor: Brad Pitt should run away with this category. His performance definitely IS worth seeing “Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood.”

Best Director: Again this is a race between Sam Mendes for “1917” and Bong Joon Ho for “Parasite.” And again “1917” is the clear favorite and “Parasite” is the dark horse. The Academy has taken to splitting Best Picture and Best Director of late, but I’m going to play it safe and choose Mendes.

Best International Feature Film: “Parasite” should earn its richly-deserved Oscar here. As well as ...

Best Original Screenplay: Look for “Parasite” here. It is definitely very original.

Best Adapted Screenplay: Jojo Rabbit. I would have loved to see Waititi nominated - and even win - for directing, but he will have to settle for winning for his writing. Something tells me he’ll be fine.

Best Cinematography: 1917

Best Makeup and Hairstyling: Bombshell

That’s it for this year. Until next year, save me an aisle seat

[heywritebetter]

Should You Write What You Know?

    The phrase “write what you know” has been around for as long as there have been people so up their own ass they think that they can actually teach someone else how to write(how ya doin’?), and because of its ubiquity, a lot of writers simply take it at face value. These people are what we in academia like to call “dummy dumkins”. Whether the advice is good or not, you should never take guidance without question simply because lots of people say it; over 100,000,000 people still think that Donald Trump is an acceptable world leader, there are a lot of stupids out there. Though I may very well be one of them, I’m at least smart enough not to have unwavering faith in the words of all these other clowns. So, in the interest of critical thought, we’re going to take a look at whether or not “write what you know” is a valuable piece of advice for the aspiring writer. Spoiler alert: it isn’t.

    It’s not hard to see where this platitude comes from. Besides the common sense angle(what, are you gonna write something you don’t know?) we can see countless examples of literary classics written from the author’s experiences. Mark Twain drew his time on a riverboat to write Huckleberry Finn, F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote from the party lifestyle of himself and other jazz age rich folks, and James Joyce put to use his extensive experience as an insane person to write Finnegans Wake. Every author puts their own knowledge and experience into their work, whether they’re trying to or not, and y’know what? That’s a damn good thing! It’s part of forming your own unique style and it might be our last line of defense once we have to go all John Henry on some writing A.I.’s ass. The point I’m trying to make in rejecting this phrase is not “don’t write what you know because what you know sucks,” or, God forbid, “write what you don’t know.”

    No, the problem with “write what you know” is almost a semantic one, but as writers y’all should already know to respect the power of words. Peace treaties are just words. The wikipedia page on The Great Emu War is just words. See, conventional wisdom tells us to write with authority, and to be succinct and powerful with our language. Nobody would take “if you wanna write stuff, y’know, just like draw on your own life for inspiration n’ stuff” seriously. So in their effort to condense some genuine wisdom into shit that would fit on a coffee mug, some Bozo* decided to streamline the idea down to “write what you know.” The problem with this phrasing is that it implies two things: 1) you must write from your experience for it to be authentic and compelling and 2) writing from your life will always make for a good story. Neither of these things is true, of course.

*I’m using “Bozo” colloquially here, it was likely a more obscure knock-off clown like “Beezo” on “Bumbus”.

    First off, never let anyone tell you what you can and can’t write. Unless you’re just, like, writing the n-word twenty times, you’re probably good(hell, if you use gaudy enough font you could still probably get that in the MOMA). Writing is an inherently bizarre act and a terrible career choice, so the only reason anyone’s doing this is out of love, so you’d be best write the shit that made you want to write in the first place. I don’t care if it sucks, I don’t care if you don’t think it’s deep enough or literary enough, I don’t even care if it’s a Super Smash Bros. fan fiction longer than the fucking Bible, just write it. Good writing has nothing to do with your subject, and everything to do with how you write about it, so just pick a topic that compels you and let loose. There is, of course, a caveat to this, and that’s a little rule I like to call “know what you write.”

    “Oh snap, did he just switch two words around and claim that bad advice is suddenly good advice?”

    That’s right ya little punks, I sure did, because changing the order of a sentence changes the meaning, ‘cause that’s how words work. Now, if you’re white enough to unironically listen to Chainsmokers, but still want to write about the plight of the Native Americans, that’s totally awesome, admirable even--but do your fucking research. We don’t need ignorant white savior novel #3,426 thank you very much. Look up every drop of knowledge on your subject you can find, dig into more information than you know you’ll ever use because I guarantee it’ll make improve your writing exponentially.

    On the other side of the coin, I think I’m gonna have to lay down a dirty dose of hard truth on some of you. You ready? Sitting down? Okay: your life just… might not be that interesting. Or rather, you may not have the chops to make it work. Salinger can turn two hundred-odd pages of teen boy angst into a compelling novel, and you literally couldn’t find a single demographic I care less about. The thing is, though, Salinger’s like some kinda crazy fucking genius. You ain’t Salinger. Of course, the only way to know if it works is to write it, so by all means, proceed with your teen melodrama epic, or your rumination on the nature of the midlife crisis, but keep in mind that if no one’s biting it might be time to try and branch out. A comfortable writer is usually a bad one.

    So basically what I’m getting at here is that you should write what you know, band also write what you don’t know, but if you’re writing what you don’t know then make sure you… know it first? Fuck it, it’s finals season, I don’t have time for satisfying conclusions. Run the prompt.

Writing Prompt: Pick in important moment in your life. Write about that event or something similar, but focusing on a character opposite of yourself in some way.

[ntrending]

Twitter is killing its terrible Mac app. Here are your options for replacing it

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/twitter-is-killing-its-terrible-mac-app-here-are-your-options-for-replacing-it/

Twitter is killing its terrible Mac app. Here are your options for replacing it

I have been using Twitter’s terrible Mac app since I bought my first MacBook Pro back in 2011. In that time, it has regularly crashed, soaked up my computer’s resources, sent me sporadic notifications, and generally sucked. Despite its many shortcomings, the Twitter for Mac app has been my window into the roiling, chaotic sea of the internet. On March 18, however, that window will officially close when Twitter will revoke its support. I will miss it deeply, and unironically.

This leaves me, and others like me, in a quandary. How are we supposed to keep up with the endless stream of questionable political opinions, nonsensical jokes, and the very occasional redeeming bit of cultural miscellany now? I have spent the last couple weeks trying out a few alternative ways to interact with Twitter, taking suggestions from social media experts, Twitter itself, and a collection of how-to articles of varying quality on the subject.

If you’re in a similar situation, here are your options as well as some of my impressions.

TWITTER RECOMMENDS

Use the Twitter.com web page

This is Twitter’s official suggestion for navigating around the service, so this is what I tried first. I immediately hit a roadblock in how difficult it is to manage multiple accounts at once through a browser. Between my personal accounts, work accounts, and joke accounts where I pretend to be sarcastic inanimate objects, logging in and out it takes up a lot of time.

The web also doesn’t scroll tweets into your stream in real time. It builds up a huge stockpile of updates under a “See new Tweets” button and then unfurls them like a medieval scroll filled with pictures of my friends’ lunches and news about smartphones. That saves computing and connection resources, but the format defers the instant gratification that the Mac app offered with its constant waterfall of content.

There are some advantages to the browser approach. It’s much more reliable than the app and it shows me all kinds of information on the same page rather than different tabs. I no longer have to switch tabs to see the collection of random strangers Twitter thinks I should follow for some reason.

My main complaint, however, is how easy it is to lose track of the tab in which Twitter now lives. I’m probably worse than most when it comes to keeping too many tabs open, but at the end of each day, I’d find myself closing half-a-dozen Twitter windows because it was easier to open a new one than find the other.

It’s ultimately a fine option if you’re a basic user or someone with far better organizational skills than my own.

Grade: C

SOCIAL MEDIA EXPERTS RECOMMEND

Tweet Deck

I have used Tweet Deck in the past and it has a lot going for it. It’s easy to manage multiple accounts, even if you regularly do things like scheduling posts. You can customize the columns containing specific types of content you see whenever you navigate to the TweetDeck window, and you’d be hard-pressed to find something that can cram so much social media information all on one page.

But, while that’s one of its strengths, it might also be its biggest weakness. To look at a TweetDeck page is to stare down a giant wall of text, Twitter names, and some small photos and videos. Look at it quickly and you’d swear it’s homework.

This is a great option if you use Twitter professionally, or you want something that looks really tedious and intimidating so you can keep it on your computer at your job and people might think you’re doing actual work when they pass by and spy on your monitor.

Grade: B-

Hoot Suite

If Twitter is just a small part of your social media ambitions, then you’ll probably appreciate Hootsuite’s ability to manage accounts from a variety of networks like YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and even LinkedIn. The interface uses a series of columns a lot like TweetDeck, only there are even more options to look at, choose from, and often ignore.

If you sign up for a free account, you can control up to three different platforms, but if you want more than that, you’ll have to move up to a professional plan, which allows for 10. It has a lot of useful advanced features, like a “composer” module, which allows you to preview what your finished posts will look once they’re published.

There’s no doubt that moving to Hootsuite adds utility, but it also loses all of the simplicity in the Twitter for Mac app. It’s like comparing the bare-bones dashboard of a classic car with the screen-laden cockpit of a modern electric car, like the one Elon Musk shot into space.

Grade: B+

THE APP STORE RECOMMENDS

Tweetbot

Unlike Hootsuite, Tweetbot is a stand-alone app that you can buy from the App Store. The first downside is that it costs $10 to get the desktop app. That’s not a lot of money, but a big part of Twitter’s appeal is that it’s a free way to shout every single opinion and thought you have at everyone willing to listen. If you want the mobile version of Tweetbot, it’s going to cost you another $5.

Once you get past the initial cost, Tweetbot has a lot going for it. It has been around since 2012, and it gets regular updates, which is a good sign for its longevity. You can manage multiple accounts and there’s no hard-sell to try and get you to upgrade to a more advanced account, since you already paid for the software.

The interface is very reminiscent of Twitter for Mac, which is one of its biggest strengths as far as I’m concerned. You can set it up to look like a simple stream in a single column with icons on the left hand side for navigating between sections.

The real downside here is that it almost feels like paying $15 total for an experience I already had.

Grade: B

Twitterrific 5 At $7.99, this stand-alone app is slightly cheaper than Tweetbot, especially when you consider that the Twitterrific mobile version is free.

The interface has some intuitive features that make it easier to understand at a glance, which includes the ability to switch between light and dark backgrounds depending on the time of day. It’s really easy to mute words, people, or hashtags as well, which is an increasingly important part of using Twitter in 2018 without losing your mind.

It’s not all twitterrific, though. The stream previews images and media in cropped versions, so you have to click through in order to see the whole picture or video, whereas Tweetbot shows you the whole thing within its interface. If you like tracking your activity throughout the day, the mobile app has a handy view called Today view, which the desktop version lacks.

Overall, it’s reliable, versatile and easy to use.

Grade: B

I RECOMMEND

Just use Twitter on your phone

Once Twitter for Mac ceases operating, I have decided to make Twitter a smartphone-only activity. The temptation to open a desktop version is strong, but I have a feeling it will wane down the road. In the short experiments I’ve done, relegating Twitter time to my mobile devices provides far fewer distractions and applies a lot more productive guilt—when I’m working, staring at my phone still feels a little wrong.

The app is everything I originally loved about Twitter in the first place. The updates scroll automatically and the single column allows me to concentrate on post without lots of stuff to distract me. Twitter feels like a treat now—like a box of little (sometimes angry) presents I get to unwrap at various points during the day. It’s no longer just another box on my desktop for me to do work on.

If you’re currently using a desktop client, view this as an opportunity to try a smartphone-only Twitter lifestyle.

Grade: A

Written By Stan Horaczek