#cs-II

[fromagonytoirony]

Congratulations to ESP LTD for their 50th anniversary and an even bigger congratulations to Caleb Shomo of Beartooth and ex-Attack Attack on his first ever signature guitar! A long time coming but so well deserved, he’s had a huge impact on shaping metalcore to the way it is today. He’s also just an insanely positive person in a notoriously negative community.

[tackletofset]

People acting like Will isn’t Sarcean and is simply corrupted by his spirit clearly don’t understand these books 🤣 the moral is about how mistreatment of someone can turn them into a monster, and how historical revisionism can morph the perception of someone who may be otherwise innocent. All of Will’s goodness comes from Sarcean and I think people are missing that in their “Sarcean is the devil” idea of the story. Will being good and Sarcean being bad are two concepts that cannot coexist.

👆👆👆

Perfectly worded, thank you!!!!

People who view Sarcean as "the devil" corrupting the innocent Will always emphasize Sarcean's "crimes," which have yet to be proven, while whitewashing Will's clearly self-serving agenda that we see on screen, claiming it's all "for the sake of good." But how can they be so sure that Sarcean's actions were never, in any way, "for the sake of good," especially when the narrative has always been shaped by the propaganda of his enemies?

Then, they twist our words into "making Sarcean a morally good hero," because they can't fathom that anyone would root for a villain.

Which is why I really don't need Sarcean's motivations to be altruistic. A self-indulgent revenge is good enough for me. 🤣 Pacat did say it's empowering for queer people to embrace the monster role assigned to us by society, and I'm all for it.

However, if there indeed was a devil, it should be the Lady. The name Lucifer means "lightbringer." 🤣

[bugdatabase]

for a project

[healerqueen]

Fortnight of Books 2024: Day 1

Overall - best books read in 2024?

My Top Fiction Books of 2024:

Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell (my first time reading the book after loving the movie and the story all my life)

Chase the Legend by Hannah Kaye (a thrilling epic fantasy retelling of Moby Dick, with a sea dragon as the white whale)

Crack the Stone by Emily Golus (a fantasy retelling of Les Miserables, featuring an escaped goblin convict as the Valjean character)

Urchin and the Raven War by M. I. McAllister (the fourth book in the Mistmantle Chronicles, a cozy adventure fantasy series I began reading only last year, that is now an all-time favorite)

The Heir of Mistmantle by M. I. McAllister (the third Mistmantle book, see above)

The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsberg (a clever and heartwarming contemporary book about four intelligent middle schoolers, their teacher, and other people in their community)

The Smoking Iron and Other Stories by Elisabeth Grace Foley (an anthology of Western short stories by one of my favorite historical fiction authors)

Bandit’s Moon by Sid Fleischman (intriguing, spirited historical fiction about a girl who meets a famous Mexican outlaw in California in the mid-19th century)

Two Excellent Non-Fiction Books I Read in 2024:

One Soldier’s Story by Bob Dole (a memoir of one soldier’s journey of healing physically and emotionally after life-threatening injuries, paralysis, and permanent disability in World War II)

Reflections of One Army Nurse in World War II by Gladys Bonine (an American nurse in England during World War II shares her memories in a memoir)

Best series you discovered in 2024?

The Extension Squad series by R. M. Scheller. (She’s @anythingforstories on Tumblr.)

Best reread of the year?

I had many amazing rereads in 2024. Winter Cottage by Carol Ryrie Brink and The Secret Garden and A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett were particularly moving rereads. I enjoyed rereading the first few books in a few of my favorite series, which I plan to continue: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, and The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in the Narnia series, Eagle of the Ninth and The Silver Branch by Rosemary Sutcliff, in the Dolphin Ring series, and Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder, in the Little House series. All of these rereads were very satisfying.

I also had a wonderful experience rediscovering Princess Academy by Shannon Hale and loving it even more than I did many years ago. It is now an all-time favorite. Other wonderful rereads of my favorite books included The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright, Courage in Her Hands by Iris Noble, Bridge to Trouble by Elisabeth Grace Foley, The Ordinary Princess by M. M. Kaye, Derwood, Inc. by Jeri Massi, The Reluctant Godfather by Allison Tebo, The Key to the Chains by Allison Tebo, and Buffalo Brenda by Jill Pinkwater.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

The modern habit of doing ceremonial things unceremoniously is no proof of humility; rather it proves the offender's inability to forget himself in the rite, and his readiness to spoil for every one else the proper pleasure of ritual.

- C.S. Lewis

[puttingtheplatonicinworkpartners]

Okay... coming on here to post this because some people need a reminder. It's OKAY to have straight men in media. It's OKAY for their stories to be represented sensitively, and it gives a gal like me someone to thirst over ;)

Having said that, here are my fav 10 straight male characters in Crepuscular Shroud:

1. Ricky Lowe

2. Bob Australian (Institute Bob)

3. Sputnik

4. Wyatt Chrysan

5. Elijah Chrysan

6. Elliot Powell

7. Kii'lo Ikakari

8. Pope Orleans

9. Zulzriel Adalin II

10. Kasper Asher

(Also, friendly reminded that Vivicky is BASICALLY canon. 🥰 Elicky shippers GET OFF MY BLOG. ELIAS IS TOXIC.)

[justjudethoughts]

Evangelium Vitae Explained through the Lens of the Chronicles of Narnia. (I wrote this paper for a bioethics class when I was studying abroad in Ireland a few years ago, so it's definitely not my best writing. But I also think it's really fun, so please enjoy. I hope these post in order.

[marmotclaw]

Tigerstar ii (Tigerheart)

Name meaning: Thick stripes, great at stalking, regal, strong beliefs

Big, sleek and thick-furred, dark brown tiger-striped tabby tom. He has a right torn ear, broad shoulders, a long tail, and dark amber eyes.

Voice claim: Steven Ogg

Leader info

Rowanclaw - Strength (dropped by an owl)

Kinkfur - courage

Pinenose - compassion

Dawnpelt - hope

Beenose - Forgiveness

Crowfrost - persistence

Littlecloud - acceptance

Lioneye - loyalty

Flametail - love

Family and Education

Mother: Tawnypelt

Father: Rowanclaw

Brother: Flametail

Sister: Dawnpelt

Mate: Dovewing

Daughters: Lightleap, Pouncestep

Son: Shadowsight, Birchkit

Kit: Rowankit

Mentor: Oakfur

Temporary Mentor: Brackenfur

Dark Forest Mentor: Tigerstar

Apprentice: Sleekwhisker

Temporary Apprentice: Lioneye

Nature

ENFJ

Rebel Moral

[sleepyfitz]

WHERE HIS CLOTHES AATT AAHDBBEJRJEJE

[anmylica]

Season II Episode 1: Broken

Summary: The curse is broken, and now Emma has to live with that fact. Based on Season 2 Episode 1: Broken.

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @zaharadessert @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx

Want to be added? Send me an ask!

AO3

FFN

Read under the cut!

All Emma could focus on was one thought, repeating over and over in her mind, a music-less earworm she wished would have never taken hold, though now that it had it couldn’t be eradicated.  This wasn’t a song she had stuck in her head that listening to a thousand times would end.  This was a confirmation of everything for which she had both hoped and dreaded.  This was the end of everything she had known.

It’s true.

Magic, curses, time-gone-still.  Evil Queens and malevolent imps and princes and princesses.  Dwarves, fairies, dragons.  Her parents.

It’s all true.

She just broke a curse.  A curse.  Those things don’t exist.  They’re not supposed to exist.  And yet she just broke one.  A real, live, rainbow-throwing curse.  She saw it, lived it, felt it, but she didn’t believe it.  Or rather, she didn’t believe that it had been her, that it had been real.

All around her, people were greeting others as if they hadn’t seen them in years even though they had all just spoken within the last couple of days.  Some were embracing, calling each other by names Emma didn’t recognize.  She wandered down the street with Henry in a daze, overcome with a familiar emotion and overwhelmed by what this meant for her.  What it meant for the whole town.

How it changed who she was now.

Emma couldn’t deny the magic, though her brain was at war with her heart over it.  She had felt the wave course through her body and outward in a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations.  She had seen the dragon with her own eyes, slayed it by throwing a sword at it.  She believed in the magic and fairy tales in a way she never had before this.  She didn’t want to, but there was no denying that she, like Henry, was now a believer. She accepted that.  But believing something and believing in it were two different things.

She still wanted to run.

That ever-present urge to get away, find home, surged through her, stronger than ever, but she couldn’t give in this time.  She had promised herself that she would stay here for Henry, be here for him to make up for giving him up, so here she would stay.  Her eyes locked with Mary Margaret’s.  Mary Margaret: her roommate, friend, and now mother.  What were the odds that they would find each other and become friends without ever realizing they were mother and daughter?  She wanted to deny the relation, to stay friends and nothing more complicated, but she saw the truth in her mother’s eyes, saw the joy in David’s at finding her at last.

She wished she could share that joy.

Instead, she just felt the sinking sensation of feeling devastated.  She had been given the gift she had always wanted, but it was nothing like she thought it would be now that she had it.  It hadn’t filled some hole inside her.  It hadn’t made her feel found.  She felt more lost than she had prior to the curse breaking.  She felt off-kilter.  She focused on that feeling, wouldn’t allow herself to contemplate on how much more she had suddenly gained.

She had lost too many people in her life before this.

Her mother had cradled Emma’s face in her hands reverently as she murmured, “You found us,” with such wonderment and joy.  Then, her parents pulled Emma into a tight embrace.  For the first time since she had been born, she knew what it felt like to be held by her parents.  She felt the sensation of knowing that her presence meant something to someone.  She felt the comfort of those who were supposed to protect her.  She pushed that comfort away, wouldn’t let herself feel it.  Though she resisted, the foundations of her walls that had been laid with their placing her into a magic wardrobe began to crack.

All Emma could think, would allow herself to think, was ‘Who was supposed to find me?’

At least Henry was excited, calling David “Grandpa” and hugging them.  Emma wished she could be more like Henry and see the good in the situation.  (She wished she could be more like Henry and allow herself to see the good in the situation.). Henry saw everything as more black and white (thanks to his youth), and in many ways it made it easier for him to roll with the punches.

She wondered if she could forgive easier if she had gotten Henry’s hope.

Of course, the reunions didn’t last long before the next crisis hit.  Regina got herself into trouble with the townsfolk now that the curse was broken, and Emma had to save her from the mob.  She was loathe to do it, but she was Henry’s mother for the first ten years of his life, so Emma would do anything she could to protect Regina for that simple fact.  The best part of this conflict was that it allowed her to push all the stuff out of her mind that she had been dealing with.  She could breathe a little bit easier.  But before the conflict’s solution could really get underway, there was the problem again.

“Don’t push it Snow,” she heard David chide his wife (his real wife, and God knows that is going to take some getting used to).  She saw Mary Margaret nod in agreement.

Of course, the woman doesn’t let it go.

“We’re finally together,” Mary Margaret says after telling Emma she wanted to talk, really talk, “but I can’t help but feel like you’re not happy about it.”

Emma hedged, trying to deny that she was unhappy, just focused on the latest crisis, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful.  The thing was, this was a lot for her to take in, and until she could overcome that urge to run when confronted with it, she had no intentions of talking to anyone.  The truth behind the matter was that none of this had happened the way Emma had dreamed.

And now, she would have to live with that fact.

After the total chaos of the day in saving Regina from an angry mob and then locking her up in jail, Emma just wanted a grilled cheese, a hot bath, and a show to binge watch on Netflix.  She had managed to separate from her parents for some time to herself, but she knew that all too soon they’d be together again, and Emma was low key dreading that.  She was glad she had finally found her parents, but they seemed too expect things from her that she wasn’t sure she could give.  Emma put her hands in her pockets as she trudged up the steps to the back entry of Granny’s.  She could have gone up the front steps to the diner, but people had been stopping her all day to thank her for breaking the curse.  She figured she was owed at least these few minutes to herself for Henry nearly dying and leading her breaking it.

Saviors’ wishes should be respected, after all.

Opening the door as quietly as she could, she glanced inside the diner even though she couldn’t see much.  No one seemed to notice her presence, so she slunk inside the foyer, stopping just by the jukebox.  She could see that Mary Margaret and David were sitting in a booth, clearly waiting for her.  Henry was across from them, chattering about something that caused David to laugh and Mary Margaret to smile.  Emma took a deep breath to fortify herself into taking that first step to join them.

Time to face the music.

Just as she took that first step, she stopped.  Kathryn and a blond man (wasn’t that Jim, the gym teacher at the school?  Emma rolled her eyes at the pun) entered the diner, and Emma watched as a determined look came over Kathryn’s face.  She decided to hang back and watch in case there was trouble.  Savior though she may be, she was still the sheriff of this town and old habits died hard.

There’s always trouble in this place.

David looked up and his eyes widened at seeing Kathryn and Jim.  Mary Margaret and Henry watched as the two newcomers approached.  David stood as they got closer to the table.  To Emma’s complete surprise, Kathryn hugged David tightly as Jim looked on, a small smile on his face.  

When they separated, Kathryn said, “I’m so sorry for everything!  I was wrong for trying to make you stay with me and fight for our marriage.  It didn’t even exist!  I can’t believe I was so blind.”

David chuckled and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile.  “We were cursed,” he responded, then continuing, “It’s alright.  I’m just glad we’re all back to normal.”  He reached out a hand to Jim, which the man shook eagerly.  “I’m sorry for ‘cheating’ on you during it.”

Kathryn shook her head, smiling.  “It’s alright.  As you said, we were cursed.”

“We owe you and your family so much,” Jim said.  “First you helped to de-goldify me in the Enchanted Forest, and now your daughter broke the curse to reunite Abigail and me.  I can never repay you.  If you ever need anything-” he broke off as Mary Margaret interuppted.

“You owe us nothing,” she said gently but firmly.  “We know what it is to be separated.  Your happy reunion is thanks enough.”  She smiled softly at them before continuing, “I’m sorry for causing you so much anguish, Abigail, with the affair David and I had carried on.”

Kathryn laughed.  “We were cursed,” she responded, giggling.  “Have I mentioned that?”

Everyone at the table laughed, with Kathryn adding after the laughter had calmed, “Besides, I’ve got something better now.  My true love.”  She beamed up at Jim, who smiled just as largely back.

“We’re very happy for you,” David said.  Everyone smiled once more and the couple said their goodbyes before moving to another table for dinner.

Mary Margaret beamed at David as he sat back down.  He leaned over and kissed her gently in response.

When he pulled away, he murmured softly, “I’m just glad I get to do this again.”  Emma couldn’t hear his words, though she did read his lips and so got the gist of what he had said to her roommate turned mother.

Her mind wandered back to the person she had been at sixteen, young and in love for the first time.  She had had that once, or she thought she had, and it had torn away all of her hope and confidence in herself.  That love had been a large part of the reason why she always ran, having learned the hard way to never trust love again.

She wondered what Neal was doing now, if he had been able to find his Tallahassee without her.  But after a moment, she slammed the lid shut on those thoughts.  It was foolish to dwell on him and what could have been.  She would never know his happy ending; all she would know was that she wasn’t a part of it.  Her thoughts turned to that brief interaction with Cleo, but she slammed the lid on that just as hard.  “You’re holding on too tightly,” had been Cleo’s admonishment to her, but when you didn’t have much, you had no choice but to cling too hard to the little bit you did have.  Besides, it was clear to Emma that she had never had Neal, and you couldn’t hold onto what you had never had.

Sighing, she allowed herself one final rumination before resolving to put all this behind her.  She thought about what she would do if Neal ever did come back into her life, if she would give him a second chance.  Her gut reaction was to refuse the notion, but she was just aware enough of the state of her heart that she would wish for that with all her might.  It had to have been an accident, or a misunderstanding.  If he were sorry, then she would have her answer.  It would be hard, but they could get through it.  A smaller voice deeper in her gut told her that he wasn’t sorry and it wasn’t a misunderstanding, and that she would have to do whatever she could to keep Henry’s heart safe (for that was all that would matter).  Briefly, she allowed herself to dream of a happy reunion between them.  Then, she shook her head and shook of the daydreaming.

It didn’t matter what she would do in that situation; it was never going to happen.

In the end, all she was left with were what-could-have-been, bittersweet memories, bone-deep regrets, and a juvenile record she couldn’t shake no matter what she did.  It didn’t matter at all what she would do.  As she finally left the back room where she had been lurking, her heart gave one last painful lurch as she witnessed the easy affection her parents shared as they kissed one more time.  For a fleeting moment, her heart yearned for the same chance to be that for someone, to finally be enough and not be left behind.  She yearned for that same kind of affection from someone and the ability to give that kind of affection back.  But as she greeted her parents and Henry, she tamped that yearning down, slamming yet another brick on her walls.  True love wasn’t in the cards for her.  She wasn’t the kind of girl to have a fated true love waiting in the wings to find her.

All she was was broken.

[rosinasnoot]

I initially thought the hammer thing was referencing the saying “when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” Something about scripts or AI. Anyway, as a CS major I agree that CS is often lacking in creativity/problem solving. Some anecdotes:

In an upper-division stats class (upper division being third/fourth year classes), one brave soul complained that a certain problem on a test was unfair because “None of the questions we’ve done before were phrased like that!” (Context: some people were saying the question was poorly worded (which it kind of was), so this person was adding another reason we should all get credit for it. They seemed sincere. It was worded differently from other problems to the extent that it wasn’t immediately obvious how to solve it. It was within our abilities (I solved it using a correct method), just difficult.)

In an upper-division class on algorithms, the professor announced that the final would include some “please briefly explain your answer” boxes. Quite a few people asked for clarification on that. On the one hand, I get wanting to know what the professor is looking for. On the other, this professor was not the sort to be looking for something super specific; he understood the material and wanted to make sure we did too. Why would he tell us what to memorize to get past the questions specifically designed to prevent rote memorization?

I also heard indirectly that many people hated the introductory cybersecurity class. That class required far and away the most mental creativity I’ve had to exercise in my time in school. I’d run into walls and the answer was never “keep walking until you find a door”—I had to spot the ladder hidden in the bushes or dig a tunnel or get myself a bulldozer to get through. It was frustrating as hell and took upwards of 10 hours per week on average, and the professors understood that it was the hardest class most of us had taken and curved generously. I loved that course immensely.

Software engineering as a career is fucking frustrating and a programmer worth what they’re paid needs to be good at convincing silicon to perform feats so utterly unconventional that god himself goes “wait, it can DO that?” It takes an iron will, a complete disregard for what’s possible, and the sort of single-minded determination that can act as an unstoppable force against the immovable wall of futulity.

Or so I’ve been told. The person who told me that has more than 20 years of experience in the field, so I’m inclined to trust them. So I agree, there should be more of a push for genuine creativity in CS.

The whole AI sphere makes me think that colleges need to engineer more opportunities for programming people to get their butts kicked, in their own sphere, by humanities majors.

[maxipowell]

dlive & gaff feat. mavs’ new city edition uniforms for the 2024/2025 season

[trainsinanime]

I've seen a number of people worried and concerned about this language on Ao3s current "agree to these terms of service" page. The short version is:

Don't worry. This isn't anything bad. Checking that box just means you forgive them for being US American.

Long version: This text makes perfect sense if you're familiar with the issues around GDPR and in particular the uncertainty about Privacy Shield and SCCs after Schrems II. But I suspect most people aren't, so let's get into it, with the caveat that this is a Eurocentric (and in particular EU centric) view of this.

The basic outline is that Europeans in the EU have a right to privacy under the EU's General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), an EU directive (let's simplify things and call it an EU law) that regulates how various entities, including companies and the government, may acquire, store and process data about you.

The list of what counts as data about you is enormous. It includes things like your name and birthday, but also your email address, your computers IP address, user names, whatever. If an advertiser could want it, it's on the list.

The general rule is that they can't, unless you give explicit permission, or it's for one of a number of enumerated reasons (not all of which are as clear as would be desirable, but that's another topic). You have a right to request a copy of the data, you have a right to force them to delete their data and so on. It's not quite on the level of constitutional rights, but it is a pretty big deal.

In contrast, the US, home of most of the world's internet companies, has no such right at a federal level. If someone has your data, it is fundamentally theirs. American police, FBI, CIA and so on also have far more rights to request your data than the ones in Europe.

So how can an American website provide services to persons in the EU? Well… Honestly, there's an argument to be made that they can't.

US websites can promise in their terms and conditions that they will keep your data as safe as a European site would. In fact, they have to, unless they start specifically excluding Europeans. The EU even provides Standard Contract Clauses (SCCs) that they can use for this.

However, e.g. Facebook's T&Cs can't bind the US government. Facebook can't promise that it'll keep your data as secure as it is in the EU even if they wanted to (which they absolutely don't), because the US government can get to it easily, and EU citizens can't even sue the US government over it.

Despite the importance that US companies have in Europe, this is not a theoretical concern at all. There have been two successive international agreements between the US and the EU about this, and both were struck down by the EU court as being in violation of EU law, in the Schrems I and Schrems II decisions (named after Max Schrems, an Austrian privacy activist who sued in both cases).

A third international agreement is currently being prepared, and in the meantime the previous agreement (known as "Privacy Shield") remains tentatively in place. The problem is that the US government does not want to offer EU citizens equivalent protection as they have under EU law; they don't even want to offer US citizens these protections. They just love spying on foreigners too much. The previous agreements tried to hide that under flowery language, but couldn't actually solve it. It's unclear and in my opinion unlikely that they'll manage to get a version that survives judicial review this time. Max Schrems is waiting.

So what is a site like Ao3 to do? They're arguably not part of the problem, Max Schrems keeps suing Meta, not the OTW, but they are subject to the rules because they process stuff like your email address.

Their solution is this checkbox. You agree that they can process your data even though they're in the US, and they can't guarantee you that the US government won't spy on you in ways that would be illegal for the government of e.g. Belgium. Is that legal under EU law? …probably as legal as fan fiction in general, I suppose, which is to say let's hope nobody sues to try and find out.

But what's important is that nothing changed, just the language. Ao3 has always stored your user name and email address on servers in the US, subject to whatever the FBI, CIA, NSA and FRA may want to do it. They're just making it more clear now.

[nicklloydnow]

“I am a democrat because I believe in the Fall of Man. I think most people are democrats for the opposite reason. A great deal of democratic enthusiasm descends from the ideas of people like Rousseau, who believed in democracy because they thought mankind so wise and good that everyone deserved a share in the government. The danger of defending democracy on those grounds is that they're not true. Whenever their weakness is exposed, the people who prefer tyranny make capital out of the exposure. I find that they're not true without looking further than myself. I don't deserve a share in governing a hen-roost, much less a nation. Nor do most people—all the people who believe advertisements, and think in catchwords and spread rumors. The real reason for democracy is just the reverse. Mankind is so fallen that no man can be trusted with unchecked power over his fellows. Aristotle said that some people were only fit to be slaves. I do not contradict him. But I reject slavery because I see no men fit to be masters.

This introduces a view of equality rather different from that in which we have been trained. I do not think that equality is one of those things (like wisdom or happiness) which are good simply in themselves and for their own sakes. I think it is in the same class as medicine, which is good because we are ill, or clothes which are good because we are no longer innocent. I don't think the old authority in kings, priests, husbands, or fathers, and the old obedience in subjects, laymen, wives, and sons, was in itself a degrading or evil thing at all. I think it was intrinsically as good and beautiful as the nakedness of Adam and Eve. It was rightly taken away because men became bad and abused it. To attempt to restore it now would be the same error as that of the Nudists. Legal and economic equality are absolutely necessary remedies for the Fall, and protection against cruelty.

But medicine is not good. There is no spiritual sustenance in flat equality. It is a dim recognition of this fact which makes much of our political propaganda sound so thin. We are trying to be enraptured by something which is merely the negative condition of the good life. That is why the imagination of people is so easily captured by appeals to the craving for inequality, whether in a romantic form of films about loyal courtiers or in the brutal form of Nazi ideology. The tempter always works on some real weakness in our own system of values—offers food to some need which we have starved.

When equality is treated not as a medicine or a safety-gadget, but as an ideal, we begin to breed that stunted and envious sort of mind which hates all superiority. That mind is the special disease of democracy, as cruelty and servility are the special diseases of privileged societies. It will kill us all if it grows unchecked. The man who cannot conceive a joyful and loyal obedience on the one hand, nor an unembarrassed and noble acceptance of that obedience on the other—the man who has never even wanted to kneel or to bow—is a prosaic barbarian. But it would be wicked folly to restore these old inequalities on the legal or external plane. Their proper place is elsewhere.

We must wear clothes since the Fall. Yes, but inside, under what Milton called "these troublesome disguises". We want the naked body, that is, the real body, to be alive. We want it, on proper occasions, to appear—in the marriage–chamber, in the public privacy of a men's bathing-place, and (of course) when any medical or other emergency demands. In the same way, under the necessary outer covering of legal equality, the whole hierarchical dance and harmony of our deep and joyously accepted spiritual inequalities should be alive. It is there, of course, in our life as Christians—there, as laymen, we can obey—all the more because the priest has no authority over us on the political level. It is there in our relation to parents and teachers—all the more because it is now a willed and wholly spiritual reverence. It should be there also in marriage.

This last point needs a little plain speaking. Men have so horribly abused their power over women in the past that to wives, of all people, equality is in danger of appearing as an ideal. But Mrs. Naomi Mitchison has laid her finger on the real point. Have as much equality as you please—the more the better—in our marriage laws, but at some level consent to inequality, nay, delight in inequality, is an erotic necessity. Mrs. Mitchison speaks of women so fostered on a defiant idea of equality that the mere sensation of the male embrace rouses an undercurrent of resentment. Marriages are thus shipwrecked. This is the tragi-comedy of the modem woman—taught by Freud to consider the act of love the most important thing in life, and then inhibited by feminism from that internal surrender which alone can make it a complete emotional success. Merely for the sake of her own erotic pleasure, to go no further, some degree of obedience and humility seems to be (normally) necessary on the woman's part.

The error here has been to assimilate all forms of affection to that special form we call friendship. It indeed does imply equality. But it is quite different from the various loves within the same household. Friends are not primarily absorbed in each other. It is when we are doing things together that friendship springs up—painting, sailing ships, praying, philosophizing, fighting shoulder to shoulder. Friends look in the same direction. Lovers look at each other—that is, in opposite directions. To transfer bodily all that belongs to one relationship into the other is blundering.

We Britons should rejoice that we have contrived to reach much legal democracy (we still need more of the economic) without losing our ceremonial Monarchy. For there, right in the midst of our lives, is that which satisfies the craving for inequality, and acts as a permanent reminder that medicine is not food. Hence a man's reaction to Monarchy is a kind of test. Monarchy can easily be "debunked", but watch the faces, mark well the accents of the debunkers. These are the men whose taproot in Eden has been cut—whom no rumor of the polyphony, the dance, can reach—men to whom pebbles laid in a row are more beautiful than an arch. Yet even if they desire mere equality they cannot reach it. Where men are forbidden to honor a king they honor millionaires, athletes, or film-stars instead—even famous prostitutes or gangsters. For spiritual nature, like bodily nature, will be served—deny it food and it will gobble poison.

That is why this whole question is of practical importance. Every intrusion of the spirit that says, "I'm as good as you" into our personal and spiritual life is to be resisted just as jealously as every intrusion of bureaucracy or privilege into our politics. Hierarchy within can alone preserve egalitarianism without. Romantic attacks on democracy will come again. We shall never be safe unless we already understand in our hearts all that the anti-democrats can say, and have provided for it better than they. Human nature will not permanently endure flat equality if it is extended from its proper political field into the more real, more concrete fields within. Let us wear equality; but let us undress every night.” - C. S. Lewis, ‘Equality’ (The Spectator, 27 August 1943)

[arundolyn]

once again lamenting how dirty they did makoto's animations in general

[wimjee]

Stationstunnel Roermond (B&W,Fisheye). by Wim Jacobs Via Flickr: Wandeling door Roermond.