#commercialize

[bills-bible-basics]

MP3S, COMMERCIALIZED CHRISTIANITY AND CHRISTIAN HYPOCRISY -- a Bill's Bible Basics Article This #BillsBibleBasics article by #BillKochman can be read online at the following URL: https://www.billkochman.com/Articles/mp3comm1.html https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/mp3s-commercialized-christianity-and-christian-hypocrisy-a-bills-bible-basics-article/?feed_id=41624&_unique_id=642b01f394cf1&MP3S%2C%20COMMERCIALIZED%20CHRISTIANITY%20AND%20CHRISTIAN%20HYPOCRISY%20--%20a%20Bill%27s%20Bible%20Basics%20Article

[haszari]

An interesting piece on the legacy of Hobbes vs Snoopy, selling out, and inhabiting your imagination because it’s more consistent than reality.

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[hell0mega]

people are drawing Steamboat Willie Mickey doing all this crazy shit and whatnot, but you could always do that. you can do that now, with current Mickey, just fine. it's fanart and it's legally protected. hell you could take Disney-drawn Mickey and put a caption about unions or whatever on it and it would still be protected under free speech and sometimes even parody law.

what is special about public domain is that you can SELL him. you could take a screenshot and sell it on a tshirt. you can use him to advertise your plumbing business. people have already uploaded and monetized the original film.

you could always have Mickey say what you want, but now you can profit off it.

[vivitalks]

(in a job interview) i guess if i had to say my one strength it would be skipping the ad break on a podcast episode on the first try. yeah there's no button i just guess the number of minutes and i'm always right. oh you meant like work strengths? none

[noecantsleep]

WE ARE SO BACK

[kensatou]

if nothing else can save america this zero-year-old fairy baby otter with no gender can. chiitan's platform is love. and chaos.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

There was a McDonald’s commercial where the camera slowly panned to follow footprints in the sand to then show Jesus Christ walking on the beach eating a McRib. Words on the screen said, “It’s back.”

[buscemifan]

i want art to feel EARNEST. this disgusting, near pornographic level of tongue in cheek meta humor is making me sick to my stomach. i don’t know how many more movies i can take about clever subversions and the movie winking at you to say “we know it’s a little silly, but…” where is the whimsy? why can’t we believe in the pretend you’ve created? why don’t you have enough faith in it? in my ability to believe?

[peteneems]

[bills-bible-basics]

MP3S, COMMERCIALIZED CHRISTIANITY AND CHRISTIAN HYPOCRISY -- a Bill's Bible Basics Article This article can be read online at the following URL: https://www.billkochman.com/Articles/mp3comm1.html https://www.billkochman.com/Blog/index.php/mp3s-commercialized-christianity-and-christian-hypocrisy-a-bills-bible-basics-article/?feed_id=33244&_unique_id=6408a02ef2a36&MP3S%2C%20COMMERCIALIZED%20CHRISTIANITY%20AND%20CHRISTIAN%20HYPOCRISY%20--%20a%20Bill%27s%20Bible%20Basics%20Article

[justvoidsdumbstuff1]

I want fatnugget slippers

[bixels]

In the past, people in the Animal Crossing community would make fun of Tom Nook as a sleazy landlord. Since then, he's really rehabilitated his image as this 'heart of gold' businessman (he's the one who puts bells and furniture in trees for you to find! he adopted orphans! he donates to charity!), but New Horizons genuinely paints the most devious version of him.

He's successfully privatized settler colonialism: you pay HIM to move to a "deserted island" (which apparently the oceans in the AC world are just full of) and start a colony that he is directly invested in. At best he's running a weird vacation package scam (you arrive on the island with no money and in debt for "using his services"). At worst, he's using you to set up company towns. For god's sake, he literally has his own fake currency that he forces you to use to pay off your debt. But don't worry, he's repackaged it in a way that definitely doesn't sound like an MLM scam: the Nook Mileage Program!

You're no longer just his tenant or his temporary part-timer, you're his business lackey. The entire tutorial section of the game has you spending actual weeks running around completing tasks and doing hard labor to set up his colony. You're even tasked with preparing his properties and finding buyers for them. No, you aren't a tenant anymore. You work for the landlord. You are directly responsible for finding tenants for him. And he doesn't even fucking pay you. Not for setting up town hall and museum, or his nephew's shop –– which is the ONLY store on the entire island that sells necessities –– or bringing KK Slider to town, or helping populate his town. Not a single cent. No, actually, you have to pay HIM to BUY infrastructure like bridges and stairs and park benches. And all the while, he's telling you're the "resident representative"; you get to call the shots! That the reward is the community's progress. That what you're doing is in everyone's best interest (but most importantly, his).

Since NH's release, people have done a lot of legwork to say that Tom Nook isn't a capitalist while the game shows him at his very worst. He owns the only general store in town. You're forced to use a phone that he modified and branded as his own. Buy Nook-branded furniture and merchandise at the self-serve kiosk in the town hall, a governmental building! There's no conflict of interest here!

But hey, if you're tired of being the landlord/business mogul's goon, you can also find work as a deluxe resort home designer for a company that also pays you in their special company currency that can only be used to buy their products instead of a real salary! Because that's what the Animal Crossing franchise needs! More vacation homes!!!

[enyasaints]

I want to feel vindicated. SA + Legal Fund

I’m losing my motivation and drive everyday. I would love to feel a sense of community. This has not been reliable in my reality.

Direct Aid:

PP: enyasaints@gmail.com

[supd00dle]

HOLD FOR LAUGHS AND/OR APPLAUSE

[zephyrchama]

Who among you are old enough to remember the "It's 10pm, do you know where your children are?" reminders on TV?

That was probably necessary at the very beginning of the exchange program. Diavolo or Barbatos would have to send out text messages every day. "It's 10pm. Do you know where your human exchange student is?"

You could be doing homework in your room in the House of Lamentation when at ten o'clock on the dot you hear loud swearing and footsteps. Mammon barges in to check that you're there. The others coolly walk by and peek in just to double-check. Every single night.