#like what metric are you using to decide what form of hate is somehow more palatable and not severe?

[knifey-shivdarks]

the whole "Transmascs have it easier" discourse is so reductive. transfemmes and transmascs both face specific hurdles that the other side will never understand and to try to quantify whose experience is "worse" is illogical, unproductive and does nothing but make us fight amongst ourselves when we should be looking at the people who actually have and use that power to oppress us

[twitchesandstitches]

Three Tides Turning

Odina was, perhaps against her preference, an expert on magical things of all kinds. Academic knowledge, with a lot of firsthand experience, and the joke was that she had approximate knowledge of pretty much any magical thing.

She was very surprised to have Toast, of all people, asking her advice; she was pretty certain the little robot hated her guts, and would in fact have been happy to SEE her guts spread all over the wall. It wasn’t personal, he simply hated every single human to ever exist. It was a democratic sort of loathing, an almost genteel hatred that ignored cred and origin and country and deeds, all in favor of resenting the great teeming mass of humanity and proclaiming them all equally guilty of being absolute bastards.

She’d never asked why he hated her species so much. She had her suspicions. The magic that powered him was fueled by his own hatred and anger, but the special kind that came from pain. Emotion magic had its own flavors, and he reeked of suffering, and in his impassioned rants she heard the echoes of absolute despair so painful the only sensible response was to make it into kindling. He had suffered, and given the reputation of humanity among its mechanical offspring, and the optic that had been torn out of his head, she could guess what KIND of suffering he had endured.

Even at his most sociable and miserably lonely, when he had no choice but to seek out company that might include humans, he tended to avoid her. So seeking her advice out was, well, a really big damn deal!

Toast hunched over on a small overturned table, a little red robot apparently designed for a quadrupedal stance. Here and now he looked a lot like a mechanical dinosaur, but one that was oddly cute. He was just so… small, and compact. His wiry tail lashed around, and his boxy head tilted around, his single remaining eye blinking as he twisted his head around to see her.

Both his arms articulated as he tried to explain himself. One arm was slender and ended in a kind of paw. The other was a massive taloned gauntlet, larger than he was, the obscene mass built around an elemental fire core that fueled his various powers. It made him a truly fearsome heavy hitter, but it also severely hobbled him, and only now did she appreciate just how awkward he moved with it; his claws alone were a painful sight, when all his other movements were fluid, if so jittery you could expect he was impatient to finish moving and making little gestures.

“It’s… it’s my friend,” he managed, and pointed, and some of the things he had been telling her clicked. Ah, she thought in the back of her head.

Looming behind them was a monstrously huge figure, apparently the size of a house, draped in a tent crudely worked into a rough cloak. Atop it was a feral head, snout poking out of a projecting head but still obscured by a massive set of puffy lips.

God, it was so big. No, she was so big. Femininity radiated from it, like the psychic tide you couldn’t help but hammer you with pleasant vibes and sudden surges of hormones, and the desire to… do things. Animal things, rutting and breeding and delighting in the most basest of pleasures...

Odina’s absorbing powers sucked away the worst of it, so that she was a whirlpool of negated essence right there. Her total lack of interest in sex of any kind also provided a defense. The great mother-monster noticed this somehow, and turned to see them. A massive pair of breasts, big enough for Odina to fit inside them, shifted behind the cloak, and were so large they dominated the heft of even this hulking frame.

An aberrant hand, or perhaps a paw, raised its two webbed fingers. Claws longer than Odina’s arm wiggled playfully at her. “Sup, hun,” she rumbled, her voice deep, resonant, like an echo of the primordial sea.

Odina waved back nonchalantly. “Hey, terrifying monster lady.”

The eldritch monster mother - Tiashar was her chosen name, according to Toast, who had made himself an expert on her - chuckled at that. It was hard to make out details with that big cloak she wore; Odina could make out a massive mane of hair, or perhaps feathers, growing down her neck and shoulders and expanding outwards into a huge floor-dragging cloud several times larger even than she was. Some bits of it had become little tentacles, or tongued mouths. There were eyes, many of them, beneath it, but were quite invisible behind the long bangs. She did see a hint of multiple floppy ears, tweaking vaguely in response to stimuli no mortal senses were capable of perceiving.

Most of the exposed body was deep black. The shade differed; upon her face and the smoother parts of her skin, it was the color of ancient tar. On the patches of scales, a blue-black like the deepest parts of the sea. The armored plates on her shoulders, forearms, or the enormous tube that was her tail? It seemed to be even darker than all that, oily and rich. And oh yes, there were patches of other colors here and there; the gills lining her neck and sides were the same magenta as her mane, her huge lips and various other parts were a brilliant green… and in fact green seemed to be a secondary color, as if to offset her other shades.

Pebbly scales, slabs of chitin, features of ten thousand different phylums all mashed together in a strangely ideal form with her, and she suspected that was the key to understanding her. So many things that didn’t seem to belong, but with her, they did.

Presently, she seemed content to now ignore Odina and laid down, cooing at the dirt. Apparently whispering to the bacteria.

“...I’m worried about her, “ Toast said, his smaller hand rubbing its claws against a single digit of his big hand, his normally grouchy expression winding up into something forlorn and distressed. “She’s being so… so weird lately!”

“Weird by what metric.” Odina indicated her vaguely. “This is the same lady who spent half a month living in an attic, eating our garbage cans and screaming at mega-possums.”

It was amazing how Toast instantly shifted into hostility; he flared up, flames exploding around him, and a fireball appeared in his hand. “You talkin’ shit about her!?” he snarled, embers flying from his mouth like spittle.

Odina let herself instinctively eat the magic he was throwing off, but if he noticed his flames dying, he didn’t notice. They just flared up again, and her butt expanded, shelf rising over her waist and her skirt creaking in protest at it slid up, her hips expanding sideways. ‘Do NOT push him,’, she reminded herself, he absolutely would try to kill her instantly if he felt even slightly irritated, regardless of needing her help or not.

It didn’t come easily to her to play nice, but she would do her best. “I’m not making fun. I’m just saying, she’s kinda weird. Like the rest of us?”

He grunted, depowering. The local magical quotient went down, though her backside scale remained embiggened. “Yeah, okay.”

“So what do you MEAN, she’s acting weird?”

“I don’t know. The other day, she’s all calm and serene, hanging around with the men and women that wanna be around her all the time. Y’know, she feeds ‘em, gives ‘em baths in her milk and stuff, sometimes they feed themselves to her and she pops ‘em out as monstery versions of their old selves, but mostly they just… adore her?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, its weird. It's like… she needs it?”

“Sounds like they’re worshiping her,” Odina said vaguely, an idea coming to mind.

“Seems legit.” he tweaked his fingers, popping them off and chewing on them anxiously. “Then the next few weeks, they do none of tat, they just hang out with her and we go exploring? Fighting monsters together? The other folks, they fuse together and stuff, its like its a big adventure party? And it's fine, but then, just a few nights ago, she got hungry. Really hungry.” he looked uncomfortable. “And horny. Like, even more than usual.”

“Sounds like a lot of effort,” Odina said, who regarded all things sexual as an alien endeavor way more trouble than it was worth.

“She just wanted nothing but sex, twenty-four/seven, for almost a solid week! With all of them! And then they let her gobble them up, and now…” he gestured at her. Odina noticed her belly was very ripe, round and projecting outwards. A gravid, super-pregnant belly, with both the offspring sired with them, and the cultist’s reborn souls. “She just did nothing but eat continuously, barely speaking a word. I tried to talk to her and she looked at me like… like she couldn’t remember how.”

He paused.

“She kissed me.” He hugged himself, looking faintly lost, like he couldn’t quite understand how anyone would want to do that to him. “She couldn’t talk anymore, but she was happy to see me.”

“She’s talking now.”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s back on her regular mindset, where she’s being a chill mom and stuff but… shit. She keeps going through these phases and! And! And I’m really freaked out, is something wrong with her, is she sick, is she going to go away and ascend or something!?”

He shook Odina by the neckline desperately. “I can’t deal with that, okay!? How do I help her!?”

She gently but firmly pushed his claws off. “Calm down, she’s okay. She’s just trying to balance herself out. It’s part of what she is, okay?”

Toast stared at her. “Part of… what she is? What, a chimera monster girl?”

“No. You… do know she’s something else altogether? One of those things that…” she gestured vaguely. “Come from Outside?”

He stared blankly.

“The far realms?”

His optic blinked, slowly. “Nuh uh.”

“The parts of the multiverse that exist outside the set that has anything at all to do with mortals or our understanding of reality?”

“I’m drawing a zero here.”

“...The mad things that were here before the gods?”

“Still nothing.”

“...Okay, she’s an eldritch abomination that decided to be like a mortal, okay!?”

He nodded. “Ohh, right. Like that. Got it.”

“...You really get it?”

“Honestly, no.” He shrugged. “Could not give a shit, to be honest.”

She sighed. “It’s like this. Creatures like her tend to develop certain traits in common, because they’re forming minds like ours, but they’re still working in a totally different way. They’re not exactly elder beasts, they’re a little bit like gods, but they’re something a bit in between. And SHE is learning her way around that. Every day, and sometimes backsliding or losing her sense of what she is.”

Toast seemed to understand that, at least. He nodded.

Odina sighed. “Right, okay. So, if she’s like the other sorts of things I’ve heard about, she’s basically formed a mental state made out of three different parts that influence her in different ways.”

“What does this have to do with her being weird?”

“Because these are giving her contradictory urges, and she has no impulse control! She IS her desires!” Odina snapped her fingers, producing a little magical sign that said ‘get it??’. “Firstly, what you probably think is her ‘regular self’ is really just the parts of her mind she’s forced to think like a mortal.” A troubling idea came to her. “Or… what she thinks mortals are like. But she’s so different that even that is just guessing games, and she’s forced her brain into patterns completely unnatural to her, and it's always shifting around and trying to become something else. Because change is what she DOES.”

Toast looked baffled.

Odina tried again. “Look at it like this. When she’s worked out some kind of balance between her natures here, this side of her is the one that probably wins out and makes a happy medium. She wants to please herself and please other people, in moderation; it comes off to us as weird and constantly hungry, but that’s just what happens when godly hungers get curbed. That’s still moderate, by HER standards. The kind of things she doesn’t really get, like abstract causes, and long term stuff; she’s able to deal with those things more easy. She’s able to think more like you can.”

“Okay, I get THAT, at least.” Toast scratched his metal ears sheepishly.

“Now, you probably noticed her gathering people to her. That’s just a function of what she is; she’s a sort of proto-god. Gods want to be worshiped and admired; she needs a cult, and it's her nature to build them. So that's the bit of her that’s the most divine coming out. Probably also why she goes off and fights monsters; she probably sees it as protecting her people.” She paused, thoughtfully. “Or maybe she’s just getting into the ‘guardian kaiju’ vibe. She does have the look.” Another pause. “And getting people to breed with her might also be a god thing; she’s probably compelled to do it, as a function of what she is.”

“And you said something about a beast, earlier?”

“Right, her third nature. That’s the part of her that’s… well, monstrous and ravenous. A beast, nothing but hunger and desire. Not that its bad or evil!” she said hurriedly, noticing Toast’s temper starting to rise on Tiashar’s behalf. “Just… she’s already impulsive, but that part of her is literally nothing but instant gratification and satiating herself! Like…the bit of her that wants to be pleasured and satisfied all the time, that wants to be constnatly gestating monsters and having sex whenever she’s not eating? And then eating them right afterwards, and turning their souls into MORE things to gestate so they can stay with her forever in new bodies. ITs the part of her that runs on instinct and animal hunger, forever.”

He nodded, in a dour sort of way. “Okay, I think I get it. So…” he tried to process it all. “She acts weird because she’s got a whole bunch of competing drives and urges, some of them at odds with each other, constantly changing how she thinks and feels?”

Odina shrugged. “Her actual feelings are probably pretty, uh, consistent. The way she responds to them and acts on them does change, depending on which way her brain is working. Like if she likes someone and she’s pure beast, she probably wants to just jump on them and rut until the sun goes down, and them nuzzle them for a full month. And when she goes full god, she wants to shower them with blessings and love. And if she balances it out and can think properly? Then she just wants a friend, or maybe a tiny spouse. As long as she can hold onto that scale.”

He looked uneasy. “God… and she has to live like that…?”

“I don’t think it bothers her,” Odina said, not sure if she was actually trying to reassure him, or herself. “It’s just the way she sees the world and prioritizes stuff changes. She probably doesn’t really notice her perspective shifting. It’s just part of what she is. The tide turns, because that’s what it does; same thing with her.”

Toast looked troubled. “But..”

“Most eldritch entities, the ones that are making an honest effort to really understand us, wind up something similar. Plenty of them strike up a balance. The trick is them holding onto it.”

Toast wiggled. “So… Mama Tiashar…?”

She noticed, but didn’t say anything about it, his use of the honorific.

A small slip of the tongue, but a big, big deal for someone so miserably spiteful and suspicious of the whole world.

“Nothing’s wrong with her,” Odina said. “Her nature is just to change to different extremes. Sometimes she’ll be wild and ravenous. Sometimes she’ll be weird and think like an old goddess. And sometimes, more often than not, she’ll be like a regular weird mortal thingy. Just depends on the way her tides are turning.”

He whimpered. “But I want her to be happy.”

Odina looked at him, with something she didn’t dare admit might be pity.

It was a hard thing, to find out what love was at this point in his life, and to be afraid to know it.

There was a heavy stomping noise nearby.

Tiashar had stood up and slowly approached. Her massive tail lashed around, her enormous thighs slapped together as she approached, and slowly she leaned down, her head looming over Toast’s body. Her mouth opened, and she whispered softly.

“Toast, buddy,” she said, the words sounding distant and carefully picked. “Something bothering you?”

He shivered, and suddenly hugged her lip. One arm too skinny not to just sink in and instantly vanish, the other a huge and awkward club that started to fall on its own weight. “I’m just worried about you,” he whimpered.

She giggled, and gave him a soft kiss, pulling him right off the ground. She stood up, to her full height, and with another smooching pop, deposited him neatly into her cleavage, where he immediately snuggled up. “Aww, you’re a sweetie, little buddy. Don’t you worry. Mama Tiashar has herself figured out.” She gave her gravid belly a hug. “Be chill, my little dude, and don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Can’t,” he said shortly. “I just worry a lot about you…”

She chuckled. “I don’t worry about nothin’, and I’m totally chillaxed forever. Try it some time, sweetie. It’s fun.”

She nodded at Odina. “Later, short stuff.”

Odina waved vaguely at her, trying not to instantly butt-bloat up to the size of a building just from being in her presence. “Later.”

Tiashar skipped off, her gargantuan butt jiggling like literally all the gelatin there ever wars, her tail even smacking it possibly by accident, as she cooed gently to the still fretting Toast.

And Odina thought about the tides turning, and how they were fortunate to have wound up with an eldritch horror that seemed perpetually stuck on the ‘be a sweetheart’ side of things, regardless of her current flavor of impulses.

[swshadowcouncil]

“Predictable” Is Not A Four-Letter Word

Well, looks like it’s that time again. That’s right: it’s time to talk about our good friend, Subverted Expectations™.(WARNING: Game of Thrones spoilers below the jump)

Hey, who’s super excited for the upcoming Benioff and Weiss Star Wars trilogy now?

I’m alluding, of course, to the latest episode of HBO’s Game of Thrones, in which, after an 8-season-long journey learning to own her own power, master her fate, lead armies, free slaves, and reclaim her family’s place on the Iron Throne, Daenerys Targaryen evidently got just a wee bit too much girl power and decided to become…bad? I guess? Boy, who could have foretold such a stunning subversion of expectations?

(I mean, a woman gaining power, being gradually resented by the men around her for her ascent, and eventually being viewed as a megalomaniacal villainess who needs to be taken down a peg is kind of the opposite of a subversion, it’s actually pretty much what happens to most women in power, fictional, or non-fictional, but I digress)

Fan response, needless to say, has been…mixed. Generally, folks seem to be unhappy with this course of events, given that, aside from some allusions to “Targaryen Madness” throughout the series, the buildup to Dany’s heel turn has been widely seen as rushed and somewhat arbitrary. True, she’s suffered a lot in the past few episodes, but the series has also put quite a lot of effort into making Dany a sympathetic character. Complicated, yes, and flawed, as most GoT protagonists are, but still heroic and generally good. Even as a conqueror, she holds her armies to a code of conduct, shows sympathy to the downtrodden, and overall seems to want to be a good, ethical ruler even after she’s taken the Iron Throne. So, uh….what gives?

Those of us who were Star Wars fans during the release and aftermath of The Last Jedi will recognize this feeling all too well. And, much like with TLJ, the backlash itself spawned a backlash. “Actually,” declared the internet masses, “It’s good that Rian Johnson subverted our expectations. To follow through on what Abrams set up would have been obvious and boring. The whole point of storytelling is to be unexpected!” But if this is the case, why did so many people walk away from TLJ, or this past episode of GoT, feeling so unsatisfied? And why, for god’s sake, do we find ourselves constantly having this argument any time a new piece of media comes to an end?

The internet certainly provides many examples of the attitude that objection to an incongruous shock ending is somehow weak, entitled, emotional, and juvenile. There’s a sense that true fans of a franchise are tough enough to absorb an unsatisfying ending, that they actually find satisfaction from the dissatisfaction, and that to want an ending that ties up loose ends and closes character arcs (dare I say, even happily, at times) is to want one’s hand held, or to be incapable of handling nuance or bittersweetness. “Life isn’t always happy!” the internet masses cry. “Life doesn’t always make sense! Life is disappointing too! Deal with it!” But stories aren’t vegetables we’re supposed to choke down before we can leave the dinner table. The purpose of storytelling, for adults, at least, is not just to condescendingly remind the viewer that bad things happen sometimes, and force them to suck it up. Which, of course, isn’t to say that all endings have to be neat and happy, either–there are stories with dark endings that are deeply satisfying (Breaking Bad) and ones with happy endings that are deeply unsatisfying (How I Met Your Mother). There are even stories with subtle, unclear endings that still feel logical and satisfying to many viewers, albeit not all. The ending of The Sopranos, for instance was famously controversial for its ambiguity, but even this ending was tied to themes and concepts planted earlier in the series, and several perfectly cogent arguments have been written to explain this quite persuasively.

But what satisfying endings tend to have in common, that unsatisfying ones don’t, is a feeling of appropriateness and completeness. Most fans who hated the finale of How I Met Your Mother did so not because they resented that it was “happy,” but because they felt it was a 180-degree turn from the arcs of all the characters and storylines up until the last few minutes of the last episode. Conversely, people didn’t love Breaking Bad’s ending because it was “difficult” or “dark,” they loved it because it was a believable, complete, fitting ending to the story that had come before (funny enough, I would wager that more people guessed the ending of Breaking Bad than guessed the ending of How I Met Your Mother, though that’s neither here nor there). But in the current cultural environment, a person can gain quite a bit of attention for boasting that unlike those blubbering fake fans, they LIKED that this ending didn’t conclude the arcs that had built for years, didn’t pick up dropped plot threads, didn’t allow protagonists to learn anything or achieve their goals, and so on and so forth. That they, by virtue of some unspecified quality, didn’t NEED an ending like that in order to enjoy what they were watching. Do I believe people who say this? Well, maybe. Human opinions are varied, and I don’t allege some conspiracy where everyone secretly hates the same things I hate. Nonetheless, I often find a degree of disingenuousness in these statements. A good ending can be obvious, unexpected, happy, sad, or even ambiguous–but more often than not, what makes it good is that it is satisfying. And loving an ending because it is unsatisfying, because it gives the audience nothing it wants, runs counter to this instinct, like it or not.

To use one example of a satisfying ending (albeit not a true ending, since it comes in the middle installment of a trilogy), Darth Vader’s revelation that he is Luke Skywalker’s father has gone down as one of the greatest plot twists in cinema history. Indeed, if you didn’t know that a mystery like this was building, you’d never think to put the pieces together–the ominous references to Luke having “too much of his father in him” or having “much anger…like his father,” the Chekhov’s gun of Anakin’s murder that goes unaddressed throughout A New Hope, and so on. But this twist is somewhat unique in that much of the buildup to it was done retroactively. During the writing of A New Hope, there was no plan for Vader to be Luke’s father–instead, the decision was the result of looking back at what the story had built, and following it to a coherent, unexpected, yet somehow totally natural conclusion that set up compelling stakes for the subsequent chapter. That is why the Vader twist works–it wasn’t chosen purely so the audience couldn’t guess the ending of the film, it was chosen because that was a compelling direction for the story to go, because it complicated and heightened the stakes, and because it deepened the existing text through unexpected means. In other words, arguably the greatest movie twist in history wasn’t great just because it was hard to guess, it was great because of the emotional impact of looking backwards and realizing how well it fit into the framework that was already in place despite the twist being unexpected. The surprise on its own is only a surprise; the surprise filling in the blanks of the story so effectively is what makes it sublime.

So why, then, do we find ourselves sucked into a maelstrom of hot takes every time we say we dislike a shock-value ending? And why does this trend seem to have gotten so much worse in recent years?

Well, it should come as a surprise to nobody that fandom culture to begin with is notorious for the ways in which elitism, gatekeeping, and all-around dick-measuring feature in its social interactions. Anybody who’s spent time in a major fandom has undoubtedly encountered this bizarre form of competitiveness, whether it’s being quizzed by strangers on their knowledge of canon or listening to boasts of “I was into it before it was cool” that would make a Brooklyn vinyl store owner blush. What has changed in recent years is the increased integration of the larger internet into these fandoms, shifting fan discussions from the confines of in-person hangouts or small online chat rooms, into massive public forums such as Tumblr and Reddit. Suddenly, said dick-measuring is not only happening for a far larger audience (including the general public, not just hardcore fans), but likes, reblogs, gold, and upvotes actually give fans a metric by which they can “win” or “lose” these competitions, further incentivizing them as a go-to mode of interaction among fans.

Now, with longform franchises, such as Star Wars, Marvel, and Game of Thrones, this who-is-the-nerdiest-of-them-all dynamic runs headlong into another common form of fan interaction; that is, speculation. When fans of a certain TV show or film series gather together, it’s only logical that one of the main topics of discussion is what they think might happen to their favorite characters next. These two dynamics in conjunction with one another form a fertile breeding ground for the almost gladiatorial style of fan speculation we see in most major forums nowadays. One person theorizes about a certain future plot line and receives a shower of upvotes, likes, favorites, and so on. Another comes back with a biting critique, and is given even more praise. Eventually, what might otherwise be a simple discussion becomes an outright competition, complete with points and ranking systems to keep track of who is “winning.”

This paradigm, in turn, incentivizes a very specific style of speculation. If I begin telling you a story about a girl named Cinderella who lives with her wicked stepmother and two wicked stepsisters, who asks to go to the prince’s ball, and leaves a shoe behind on the steps of the palace, your inevitable prediction that the story will end with a shoe fitting and a royal wedding may be correct, but it’s hardly cause for bragging. Of course you could predict how the story would end, because the ending was obvious. However, if I gave subtle clues in my story that the ending would go a different way, and you were the only one to predict that in this version, Cinderella was actually a vampire the whole time, and the story would end with her turning all the other characters into vampires, you could get praise for your attention to detail and ability to pick up on clues others had missed in this (absolutely bonkers) adaptation of Cinderella. Those of us who have followed the Star Wars online fandom since the release of The Force Awakens will recognize this pattern of behavior, especially in the areas of Snoke’s identity and Rey’s parentage. Though most agreed immediately on the heels of TFA that Rey was heavily implied to be Luke Skywalker’s daughter (or possibly Han and Leia’s), it only took a few weeks for the tide to shift to increasingly fantastical theories. First, the relatively mundane theories that she was a Palpatine or a Kenobi, then the slightly more perplexing suggestions that she was a Lars or Naberrie, and eventually theories that she was an immaculately conceived Force baby, or a clone, or a reincarnation of Padme Amidala.

The simplest explanation for this progression is just that people get bored of talking about obvious theories and want to mix things up with more unusual “what if” scenarios. But it’s hard to ignore the way that the competitive nature of social media fandom fosters this paradigm as well. Like someone betting on horse races, the lower the odds, the higher the reward and the sweeter the victory. Guessing that Rey is Luke Skywalker’s daughter, immediately after The Force Awakens, would be like guessing that the story of Cinderella ends with a wedding–yes, you’re likely right, but so is any schlub off the street who watched the movie once and made an idle guess. However, if you guess that Rey is the reincarnation of Padme Amidala, conceived through the Force, and you’re right, you may well be treated as some sort of prophet. Cue the showers of fake internet points.

I should be clear here–I don’t think there is anything wrong with wanting to guess the right answer to a mystery, or come up with a particularly clever solution to a problem that nobody else has thought of before. To the contrary, these are very normal human desires, ones that anyone who follows my writing knows that I myself engage in. The problem is, again, that this incentive to up the stakes of speculation with increasingly nonsensical, out-of-left-field proposals, purely to outdo others, makes it so that cohesive storytelling without shock value is stigmatized in fandom discussions. Which, of course, makes it harder to call content out for being unsatisfying without being accused of being childish, unsophisticated, or foolish. And so, we wind up in a self-perpetuating cycle. When we set up a paradigm where guessing the plot of a story is a competition, any predictable, reasonable, ho-hum answer becomes “too easy.” We expect content creators to structure their stories to make our guessing games harder, because after all, what’s the point of consuming media if the sweetness of “victory” is undercut by a simple, obvious answer? And if setting up these unexpected endings comes at the expense of a satisfying story, the response from many fans is “so be it.”

Which brings us to an even more pressing issue: the actual impact this discourse has on media itself. Content creators are praised by this subset of fans for creating endings that viewers didn’t expect, because, as established, this style of writing enriches the “game” that they play with one another in various forums. Consequently, fans begin to assume it is in longform media writers’ best interest to structure stories this way–to build a story that seems as though it will go one way, only to pull a U-turn at the last minute just to ensure nobody guessed the ending. Fan discourse, in other words, is normalizing bait-and-switching as a core pillar of storytelling, rather than one of many techniques writers can use to build a compelling story. And, as more people who came of age in the internet era grow up to become content creators themselves, I fear that this recent spate of shock-value media is going to become more of a trend than an aberration. Much has been said about the internet creating political echo chambers, but so too can it create artistic ones–and without dissenting opinions at the table, those reverberations will only get stronger.

So, am I advocating that people fearlessly defend “predictable” storytelling in its common connotation of “boring” and “unoriginal?” Of course not. But even if a story isn’t predictable, an audience member with a keen eye, a good instinct, and some time and attention, should in theory be able to predict it. It shows that the writer has put thought into foreshadowing, thematic congruence, consistency of character and motivation, and overall cohesion. Great, surprising endings are not created by building false decoys of these things. Instead, they’re created by rendering them subtly, slipping them in under the audience’s nose so they’re not aware of a surprise building; or sprinkling in deceptively contradicting information so the audience has to struggle to reconcile these conflicts in their minds. To expand upon a metaphor from our own HypersonicHarpist, a good storyteller–like a good magician–may disguise what they are doing with sleight of hand and misdirection, but ultimately they don’t stop mid-act, set down the hat and wand, and then pull a rabbit out of a nearby air duct vent instead. Put quite simply, we are hard-wired to want stories that leave us feeling satisfied. And the beauty is, we all have different ideas of what that looks like–that’s where good, productive discussion comes in.

But when we let disingenuous, performative internet groupthink make us doubt our instincts that something is amiss, for fear of appearing uncultured or childish, we do ourselves and our media a disservice. Bad-faith criticisms of “predictable” story arcs have poisoned fan discourse to the point where even genuine appreciation for certain shocking endings are drowned out in the cacophony of hot takes. And until more people begin to honestly admit it when they don’t see the Emperor’s new clothes, discussions on media will remain that way. As fans in the age of the internet, we have unprecedented voice and access to content creators, and more tools at our disposal to create content ourselves than any generation before us. Now more than ever, the way we talk about media guides media. It’s up to each of us to make sure we have a voice in that conversation.

[roguestarsailor]

The shows itself is not terrible! Vegas is quite organized in the way it needs to be here. I am still upset with how much I’ve spent and it’s wild to me the one who booked the spot did not even know how the lay of the land is versus the other folks have been to Vegas and were dragging their feet at planning so we all booked this place that’s so far from the action, so inconvenient in every single way.

I’m upset about this group dynamic. I actually wouldn’t mind spending time as a group more but the girl who asked me to come on this trip with actually hates them or at least want to minimize interaction with them (ask me why she said yes in the first fucken place!!). My confession is that I am making excuses to her so that I can spend more time with them. I’m sorry but I’m really tired of this shit and her company. Which is mostly complaining about everyone in the group and the absolute chore of having to hang out with them (ask me why she said yes in the first place!!!). I’m jealous but also a bit annoyed with how loud her voice is and it seems when she’s nervous is gets louder.

This hotel room is stupid as shit. Everything here is luxury wannabe. The toilet is a fucken closet and the walls are so so so thin — every sound is amplified! I am sharing the room with the girl and she won’t ever leave the room to hang out with the others so I will never be able to poop in peace! The ceiling fan is drying out my eyes and I’m cold as shit but she needs the room to be subzero to sleep. The shower is completely glass and they decided to put a window on the wall that divides the bathroom and the bed so everyone can see who’s showering?? Sexy for couples I guess????? Every single thing in this room screams McMansion chic but somehow very appropriate for Vegas.

So talking to some of the Lyft/Uber drivers and any stranger I’ve spoken to here, I always ask what’s your favorite thing about Vegas or what do you like about living in Vegas. The best answer is this guy who was born in “chicago” (Des Plaines) and moved out when he was young to LV and then moved back there for a year or two and then left again to permanently reside in Vegas tells me that he loves that there’s so much to do in LV, can easily drive across LV in 40 min to 1hr, can easy drive anywhere, loves the heat and sun all year round, can tan all the time and can afford a home. Which I’m like sir you get that and more in chicago (maybe less about the housing part and heat) but I didn’t want to say if your metric for living is Des Plaines, IL vs LV then of course LV is gonna sound great. Since I didn’t grow up with cars being so casually used, I don’t understand how people complain about being in the cold and yet love the heat but just constantly drive around to get anywhere. The only pleasant time they spend in the heat is their backyard or by the pool. There’s no way they are ok with spending time in the heat doing anything; it’s just lazing around or driving a car around (idk can’t be me personally)! Anyways, didn’t sell me on this desert hellscape.

I said my goal was to say no more and prioritize my feelings over others at my expense and my energy. But I failed those two goals so fucken hate. I’ve never regretted my decision so much. FOMO? Fear of not living my life? Felt bad for that girl who didn’t know anyone else going? Ok I said yes because of BTS concert but tell me why I didn’t do my own research. It BTS didn’t happen, I would have been here and I think it would have been the absolute worst.

I genuinely enjoyed yesterday more though. Living on the strip would have made it easy to get to the main attraction. It will cost more for room but potentially easier to get anywhere. Might honestly even out the same as how much we’re e spending doing rideshares everywhere. The performances were amazing. Well chippendales were meh and I didn’t particularly enjoy it (the men can’t really dance, they just grind of things to loud music, but excellent male form from behind tho). BUT BTS AND JABBAWAUKEES WERE SO GOOD! Genuinely had such a good time and it was so so good! Mob museum was really cool but gruesome in a way that made me feel heavier and nervous as I moved through the gallery. Fremont was a lovely place and I would have much rather stayed there the entire time. Felt less screaming for your money but the lack of shade was disgusting!! Anyways, it’s not all negative but I am afraid of the bill that’s coming soon. I’ve never been more excited to get on an airplane to leave though.

[totallymature]

Underrated lines in DEH songs.

-“Give them no reason to stare.”

Before I even knew Evan has SAD, this line spoke to me and my anxiety like nothing else had before. Ever.

-“And everything’s ok”

It’s not ok. But you have to keep saying it is, when you have no one to talk to. This is literally Evan using subtext to talk about his suicide attempt. People ask how you are and you know they don’t really care, so you can’t spill out your metric fucktonne of pain and hurt. You just keep saying you’re fine, everything’s fine, everything’s ok, and it’s just so so not.

-“why should I go and fall apart for you”

Not just that, but the whole ‘why should I’ prechorus. Just,,, that rhythm and lyrics have so much power it floors me every time. Idk why it isn’t talked about literally all the time.

-”The only man that I love is my dad.”

From sincerely me. This seems just a funny line from the ‘we’re totally not gay’ joke until you remember who’s singing it; Evan Hansen and Connor Murphy. And actually I can’t decide if it’s sadder if Connor is telling the truth or not (about loving his dad). If he doesn’t, it just show’s how much he’s hurting and how unsupportive Larry was no matter how hard he tried. If he does, it means they really did love each other, but Connor hurt so much cause of Larry’s unsupportiveness and he killed himself despite the fact that they were both trying to reach each other. Also Evan sings it which,,, doesn’t need explaining.

-”So you got what you always wanted, so you got your dream come true …. Got a taste of a life so perfect, now you say you’re someone new…”

This is so perfect and it hurts so much. Everyone seems to think of ‘Good for You’ as an angry song, which maybe it is, but I think it’s actually more of a sad song- the saddest song in the whole soundtrack. 

What Evan ‘always wanted’ was real human connection. Everone else in DEH, except Connor I think, had some form of that connection. Even if it wasn’t a perfect form of human connection, they still had it, they weren’t just suffering and being so incredibly alone. And they all take that for granted, not realising how much it hurts not to have it. Cause they all had enough to keep going. Evan didn’t- he literally tried to kill himself. Then, letter he put his secrets in gets taken, and suddenly he has to decide between lying or somehow beating a crippling anxiety disorder, exposing his most painful secrets to these semi-strangers, and admitting to this family (WHO LITERALLY JUST LOST THEIR SON/BROTHER TO SUICIDE) that Connor didn’t actually have any friends. That he stole this letter from Evan, and it upset him. It could have even been what tipped the balance on his will to keep going. 

Evan gets this ‘life so perfect’, but this perfect life is not one of luxury, it’s one that everyone he knows, in one way or another, already has. It’s not a life of luxury, it’s a life of finally having real human connection, of actually having friends, of being able to finally fight this wall of hurt inside him. And these people (whom he loves) are so angry at him cause he’s hurt them, just by desperately reaching out to them. He’s just so desperate- he basically screams in the song, STOP IT STOP IT JUST LET ME OUT, cause he didn’t want to hurt these people, he didn’t want to lie, he just wanted a friend, and for someone to see how much he’s hurting. 

What he gets for reaching out for a life the others have is having the others start, like, hating him for it. IT JUST BREAKS ME 

‘GOOD FOR YOU’ IS NOT JUST AN ANGRY SONG

And, imo, the most powerful line in the whole soundtrack:

-“If you like me for me and nothing else, well that’s all that I’ve wanted for longer than you could possibly know.”

I rehearse conversations in my head, and I imagine them, cause I’m too anxious to ever have most of them. And this line, almost in verbatim, is one I imagined saying. I imagined having a friend and being able to say this to them. And then, a yearish later, I hear this and it cuts past anything I have. This line, it’s so brief, not even part of a chorus, but it just shows all of Evans struggles in one sentence. So well, and so powerful. I don’t have the language explain it. If you don’t get it, I’m not sure I can help.

But if you do, if you get it like I do, those words do things beyond what words are capable of.

[femcurrent]

Ensembles You Love to Hate: A Comparison of Mad Men and GIRLS

by Caity

I consume a lot of media. Movies, books, podcasts, video games—I’m all about a good story. My favorite form of storytelling is the serialized, character driven television show. Thankfully, I live in a time of “peak tv” so I’ve got plenty of quality shows to choose from. I’m not really picky on drama/comedy, as long as there are characters for me to love or hate and dialogue that isn’t so distractingly bad that I’m removed from the world. I just got off spring break (I know—something most adults don’t get anymore), so I decided to catch up on the controversial HBO comedy—GIRLS just in time for the series finale which aired on Sunday, April 16. And while I was watching, I couldn’t help but find myself drawing comparisons to another very popular, award winning, long running series: Mad Men.

The two shows have a lot in common. They both take place mostly in New York with various other locations as side plots throughout the seasons. They both center around a protagonist who, despite being an awful person, continually finds success both in their work and sexual relationships and who is continually unhappy, thus spending their show searching for fulfillment. They both have ensemble casts full of complex characters who make a lot of mistakes—some of which they learn from and others they just try to forget about—all the while you as a viewer are somehow still rooting for their happy ending.

They both are more focused on character development and growth rather than being plot driven. They both show the problems associated with drug abuse and unhealthy relationships. They both analyze a very specific time period and subset of people living then (generally upper middle class white people, but that’s a common issue in television heavily discussed on the internet.) But where Mad Men focuses on the silent generation in the 60s, GIRLS focuses on millennials in modern day. And then there is the overwhelmingly obvious difference: GIRLS is female led whereas Mad Men is not.

Now that isn’t a good or bad thing. Mad Men has some amazing female leads—I wish I could hang out with Peggy and Joan and learn how to be a badass while still remaining professional. And the men in GIRLS are some of the best characters. Ray is probably the only one on the show I would feel confident describing as a good human being (but I could also go to bat to justify a lot of Elijah and Shoshana’s actions. That’s another topic for a different day.) But GIRLS focuses on what it’s like as a young woman today, and Mad Men showed us the life of an ad man in the past.

So why didn’t Mad Men get as much hate? I don’t remember seeing buzz pieces about how Don Draper just needed to grow up. No one complained it was unrealistic that Vincent Kartheiser’s character continued to hookup with women despite his appearance becoming less conventionally attractive as the show went on. (The fact that the hair/makeup team intentionally gave him an increasingly more intense receding hairline is actually one of my favorite details of the show’s production.)

No one argued that the characters needed to change professions to actually contribute to society. Part of this is probably that working at Sterling Cooper is the epitome of a “real job” for many people’s metrics, but I really don’t see how their work gave back in anyway. Their whole objective was to convince masses of people to spend money on things they don’t actually need. Ray at least became a community board member. Hannah turned to education (however bad she was at a high school level, she was trying to do good and probably succeeds in some ways at the college where she ends up). Jessa was working on becoming a therapist to help other addicts, though her career path perhaps fell through. But most of the characters on GIRLS don’t have 401Ks, so obviously they aren’t successful.

Believe me, I fully recognize how “meta” this might be for a young woman to be analyzing potential sexism in pop culture by writing a blog about...a woman who analyzes sexism in pop culture by writing blogs. But season six’s “American Bitch” was one of the most profoundly complex episodes of television—analyzing consent and power dynamics between men and women, and I fear many people will never see it because they wrote off the show as being all about self centered, immature, well, girls. And that just didn’t happen with Mad Men, despite our lead man continually cheating on his wife with both prostitutes and women he meets throughout the show, yelling at his children for little to no reason, controlling his second wife’s career due to jealousy, spiraling into alcoholism and drug abuse, bailing on his professional commitments, and, consistent with the time, being a bit racist, sexist, and anti semitic. But all of Don Draper’s negative character traits are excused because of the time period or perhaps more specifically because they are expectations of men during this time period. 

In contrast, Hannah’s negative character traits are generally the opposite of expectations for women. She’s loud and a tad abrasive. She’s unashamed and unapologetic of her “unconventional” body. She has a lot of sex with different people and doesn’t care who knows it. She’s selfish and narcissistic. She doesn’t really take responsibility for her actions. She’s not often a good friend. These are things we aren’t used to seeing in women in television—especially not women we’re supposed to be empathizing and rooting for. It’s no surprise that some people cannot handle her.

I also think it’s important to note that it is impossible to separate GIRLS from Lena Dunham. Jon Hamm—while a talented actor and arguably the heart of the success of his show—was not the main creator/writer/showrunner. And for various reasons, people have decided they hate this 30 year old writer/producer/actress/director, and so perhaps that’s why they hate the show. But both shows have been critically successful and won awards (specifically the Golden Globe for best television series in their respective categories), so the incredibly different public reception baffles me.

I have many friends who identify as television connoisseurs who loved Mad Men, but whenever I bring up GIRLS to my fellow pretentious viewers, I usually get, “Ugh, I just couldn’t handle it. They’re all so annoying.” You could argue that with a longer episode length and just more episodes overall, Mad Men was able to tell a more complex story over time. You could also argue that because it was a period drama, it made the viewer reflect on humanity as a whole and how it has progressed in some ways, but not so much in others. And you might even be able to argue that with GIRLS being a comedy that thrives on revealing the awkwardness of real life on a channel that happily shows more nudity, it just isn’t for everyone.

But if you are reading this and hate GIRLS but have no problem with Mad Men, I want you to seriously consider why. Would Hannah be more forgivable if she were a man? And would you have stuck with Don if he were a woman? That’s what’s tricky about calling out sexism in today’s society: it’s hard to tell.

[arabellaflynn]

Curiosity got the better of me again, and I went out to try to investigate why the hell people are so fascinated by television shows about 600 lb humans. I should know better than to do this. I always just end up wondering how people get into such goddamn stupid arguments. Body image issues are always something I have to approach like an alien anthropologist. I have plenty of problems, but hating the mirror is not one of them. I ran into a picture of Mae West when I was maybe eleven or twelve and thought to myself, "I want to look like that when I grow up." And lo, for it came to pass. I am wasp-waisted and hourglassy. It's not necessarily the fashionable shape of the day, but neither does anyone complain at me about it. Nothing fits quite right when I buy it, but when your problem is "I always have to take the waist in several inches," you don't get a lot of sympathy. Worrying about weight is especially weird to me. I don't normally know exactly what I weigh, mainly because I don't give a shit, but the urgent care stuck me on a scale so they could figure out my drug dosages. As of my trip to the clinic I was 131.8 lbs. (Just about bang on 60 kg, if you speak metric.) I've been about that, plus or minus maybe ten pounds, my entire adult life. I don't do anything about it, it just happens. American clothing sizes are so fucked you'd have better luck in some stores if you went through the rack blindfolded, but if we're pretending standard size charts bear any relation to the dimensions of our clothes, I've never been smaller than about a 4, or bigger than about an 8. I eat basically whatever, usually not quite enough of it, and then drop a multivitamin on top to ward off scurvy. So all of this spot-reduction magic fat burner cleansing nonsense, and all of this radical political defense of having jiggly bits, have blown right past me at about equal velocities. Having now gone out and read blogs by people on both sides of the shouting, I now wish they had passed me by as well. Obesity is a statistically a risk factor for a bunch of stuff. Lots of things are risk factors. Some of those things are controllable. Some are not. You, a human with free will and full ownership of your own body, are still free to make the decision to take those controllable risks, once you know what they are. That is, as long as you give informed consent. As far as I can tell, the "fat acceptance" crowd is doing their damndest to make sure nobody is informed, and the "obesity epidemic" people are determined to make people change regardless of whether they consent. The main issue I have with the FA movement is the same as the one I have with a lot of other social movements, which can be summed up as 'the average temperament of the people in it'. Because it's a movement that aims to eliminate injustices perpetrated on people by other people, it has attracted a disproportionate number of people who believe that everything wrong with their lives is an injustice perpetrated on them by other people. Psychologically, it's known as having an external locus of control. When this is your mindset, 'I'm having bad feelings' is isomorphic with 'other people are forcing me to feel bad', and facts fall by the wayside as you set about defending yourself from what you feel is perpetual attack. I don't think it's fair to say this is representative of the reasons the fat acceptance movement began. From what I can find, it started as an offshoot of the feminist movement, with the general idea that fat people are still people and being dicks to them is just not on. I do unfortunately think, though, that it is fair to say that this mindless flailing is pretty representative of the experience most people have with the FA movement today, especially online where relative anonymity and the ease of finding yourself a nice little echo chamber to settle into make for vicious cliques. A lot of the loudest (self-appointed) spokespeople jam their fingers into their ears right up to the second knuckle when confronted with actual science. I absolutely agree that you are under no obligation to adhere to anybody's beauty standards, sit there and listen to anyone's crap advice on what you should look like or how to change your body mass, or to prioritize health, athleticism, or weight loss, but if your response to "statistically, you're at greater risk of these specific problems" is SOD OFF YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE I'M PERFECT, then there is something wrong. I have a shitload of problems with the "obesity epidemic! RUN! SAVE YOURSELVES!" crowd as well. Science is not a bludgeon you can use to make everyone do what you say. That is no better than waving around your very recent English translation of your very old book of myths and demanding that everyone follow the moral code you have somehow mysteriously derived from it. You can tell people, "You're at greater risk of heart conditions!" but they are totally allowed to tell you to fuck off. It's their life. They don't have to care if they're courting health problems, if they worry you, or if they make your boner sad. They are allowed to decide they are okay eating more pie than they burn off with exercise. Shut up and stop trying to outlaw soda refills. It's not going to work. You might note that heroin didn't vanish as soon as it was made illegal, and you can't seriously try to stem the flow of food. There is some sort of fundamental lack of empathy going on with people who insist that everyone has a duty to force themselves to a "healthy" weight. I don't know how people get to be 400 lbs any more than I know how people get to be religious -- there is obviously some sort of reward pathway in operation here that doesn't work that way for me. But I do know that hunger is incredibly stressful. I tried a generic form of that no-periods-ever birth control once that utterly broke my hunger cues. It wasn't that I wanted to eat more often, or wanted to eat more overall; it was that no matter what I ate, how much, or when, I was still just a little bit hungry. All the goddamn time. It drove me insane. I had to quit taking it, because that feeling of constantly being just a little bit hungry was so uncomfortable I had trouble sleeping. It doesn't matter where you start out on the scale; if someone's already hanging onto life by their fingernails, asking them to walk around just a little bit hungry 24/7 is not tenable. Humans make me so damn tired sometimes. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2lkKQrL via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

[plms-hockey]

Leafs @ Canes - Game 24 - Nov.24.17

KEY NARRATIVES

Toronto Maple Leafs (14-8-1) vs. Carolina Hurricanes (9-7-0)

This morning Dylan Fremlin wrote this extremely important piece of analytical sports journalism at TheLeafsNation.com about why you should love the Carolina Hurricanes. He covered reasons 1-5, and now I'll be taking up the mantle to cover 6-10.

10. They have to play in the horrible hellscape that is the Metropolitan Division

I'll say it before and I'll say it again. The metro sucks, and every day I'm grateful that the Leafs only have to play those teams three times a year instead of four. I'll take our single-headed Demogorgon in the form Tampa Bay thank you. Carolina, on the other hand, has to play Pittsburgh, Washington, and Columbus four times a year. It's like watching a beautiful young buckling, filled with hope and potential, dumped into a forest filled with direwolves.

Someone, please protect Carolina.

9. JvR + TvR, Brother Battle

I touched on this when the Leafs played Carolina back in October, but, boy, am I a sucker for a family/friends/juniors-buddies narrative. James van Riemsdyk's younger brother Trevor plays for the Canes now, and we should have a better matchup this time considering JvR was injured/recovering from injury last time they played.

An added element of fun in this matchup is that one brother is a forward and the other's a defenseman, which means there's lots of potential for them to actually compete head to head. And while I don't think this will make the brother showdown of the week after Jordie and Jamie Benn got physical last Tuesday, it is a chance for JvR to even up his record against his brother, which currently sits at 1-2 in TvR's favor.

8. Carolina's Home for Blackhawks Cap Casualties

Now if you're like me or almost any other upstanding human being and hate the Chicago Blackhawks, this is another reason to love Carolina. The gross mistreatment and abandonment of puppies — I mean promising young players, due to cap mismanagement is just another way to find Chicago infuriating. Luckily, a number of these abandoned players have found loving homes together in Carolina.

Dylan mentioned one in the shape of one of my favorite goaltenders, Scott Darling, who was signed over the summer into his first NHL starter role. While he has had a bit of a rough start, I hope with my whole heart gets that he gets steadier feet under him as the season goes on. He deserves it, ok?

They also have Teuvo Teravainen, who was dealt to Carolina in June of 2016 to entice the Hurricanes to take on  Bryan Bickell's cap hit. Then this last summer, Marcus Kruger and Trevor van Riemsdyk were offloaded through Vegas.

Anyway, they're all together and happy now with a superior team in red. #AdoptDontShop

7. They are Actually Good-Fun

As mentioned, they're doing very well in possession metrics, and are currently first overall in  CF% league-wide at 5v5. They're giving up the fifth-fewest shot attempts which is great but, even better, they're top of the league in Corsi For per 60 — by a significant number, too. They're currently averaging 66.47 CF/60 which is over 3 more shot attempts per 60 at 5v5 than the second place team (EDM with 63.44 CF/60).

6. If you liked the 2016-17 Leafs, you should like the 2017-18 Hurricanes

They play a similar style but trade star power for a more even balance of talent between the front and back end. Though, the most reminiscent component is their Pace. Pace is a metric that can be calculated by simply adding Corsi For and Corsi Against together. This tells you how many shot attempts you're going to see between both teams on an average night.

The Leafs were first in the league last year with a delightful season average pace of 118.13 per 60. They've now responsibly moved closer to the middle of the pack which makes sense considering they're maturing as a team (though their CF and CA has dropped a bit recently, in part due to the more conservative style they played while Matthews was out. I'd expect them to at least be in the top third of the league in Pace for better or worse by the end of the season). Anyway, freewheeling, high shooting, high goal total games were one of the most enjoyable things about last year's Leafs' team, even when they weren't winning a lot towards the beginning of the season.

If you miss that vibe, you can find it nightly in Carolina. They're currently sitting at a beautiful and terrifying pace of 120.45 per 60 at 5v5. They're second in the league, right after the Blackhawks (?? I don't know what's going on there). But unlike the Blackhawks (or last year's Leafs) who have a fairly even CF% percentage, a huge portion of those shots are coming from Carolina, which should start creating a lot of extra goals for Carolina if they can bump up their 7.43 shooting percentage just a bit.

At the risk of getting burned at the stake as a Leafs blog: the 2017-18 Carolina Hurricanes are like the 2016-17 Leafs... but better at hockey.

Don’t kill me.

5.5 Jeff Skinner Again

Squeezing this in here but my top spot also has to go to Jeff Skinner, who has the gentle demeanor of benevolent Woodland Elf King, smiles with the warmth of a thousand suns, and skates with the grace of a Swan Prince.

Gif Source

In other news, the Leafs will also be present.

In all seriousness, there's an amazing development down south. It's been confirmed that, for his first time as a Leaf, Matt Martin will be a healthy scratch. We've been begging for this, as Matt Martin's presence is really the only thing that regularly stops the Leafs from doing away with any semblance of a traditional fourth line.  Tonight they will roll four scoring lines in the following form:

Hyman - Matthews - Marner Soshnikov - Kadri - Komarov JvR - Bozak - Nylander Leivo - Marleau - Brown

If there's any game that would convince Babcock to try to bench Martin, it makes sense that it would be this one. With the high octane offense and talented but not exactly heavy-weight defense that Carolina is icing, they’ll both need extra scoring andthere probably won't be a lot of "flies to keep off" as Babcock’s fond of saying. Basically, most people on the Canes roster aren't going to try and crush Mitch Marner (at least they better not. Please, my favorites, play nice).

And while I'd obviously like the Hurricanes to start winning more games in general... I would love it if they could just... not do it tonight, considering in many ways this game is a battle for Toronto's soul. While logically we all know you can't decide whether or not something "works" in a single game, if the Leafs have a terrible showing tonight it wouldn't shock me to see Babcock use it as a justification to shove Martin right back into the lineup. Yet, if they can go out and tear it up, we may earn ourselves more of this configuration, perhaps even with Kapanen subbed for Soshnikov (I know, I know, now I need to tag this article as NSFW because those lines would be too filthy).

Anyway, this game isn't stressful and I'm not emotionally compromised at all. It's all fine.

Some Key Numbers

53 - Jeff Skinner - Left Wing 20 - Sebastian Aho - Left Wing 57 - Trevor van Riemsdyk - Defenseman 86 - Teuvo Teravainen - Right Wing 5 - Noah Hanifin - Defenseman 27 - Justin Faulk - Defenseman - Captain 11 - Jordan Staal - Center - Captain

THE HIGHLIGHTS

THE POST GAME

Score: W 5-4

I'm going to keep this one short because somehow my team won and yet I am still mad and that’s not a state of mind one should write from. I'm happy for Frederik Andersen who is currently the MVP of this team and the only reason they won this game. But I'm mad at everyone else.

To be frank, Carolina was completely robbed by Freddie, and I thought to myself, "Oh gosh, we're part of the problem. We're fortunate enough to take advantage of Carolina's utterly crap luck and we don't deserve these points."

Ok, dramatics over. What happened?

The Leafs got run the hell over the entire game. In all situations, they had a CF% of 30. Yes. Thirty. They were somehow even worse in the expected goal front with 27.52%. Basically, Carolina shot more and they shot better.

The reason Carolina lost was simple: Cam Ward.

They started their backup goalie who posted an absolutely abysmal .750 sv%. Darling came in for the third period and honestly didn't do fantastically, as much as it pains me to say, only posting an .889 himself.

Silver linings from this game (barring the two points the Leafs took home) included Josh Leivo scoring a goal which is always nice as well as a trigger for a cascade #Frievo tweets. Seriously, though, they should probably put him in the lineup a little more.

Kadri also got an assist which brings him to a career high nine-game point streak.

Once again the Hyman-Matthews-Marner line looked great, with Marner having the best possession showing on the team. He was 7.1% better than Matthews who sat in second place. Unfortunately, he was still only at a CF% 48.28.

What a mess of a game.

Anyway, I can only hope that the final remaining game between Toronto and my Carolina crush is a more even matchup.

Statistics courtesy of Corsica.Hockey.com and Hockey-reference.com.

[trendingnewsb]

Why Old People Think Millennials Are Killing The World

I can’t take another article about millennials. Which is ironic, since the title of this article will likely have the word “millennials” in it. Since it’s sort of about … you know, millennials. I say “sort of” because I don’t think the tidal wave of “MILLENNIALS ARE KILLING ____” pieces are really about them. Not at their core.

When you really break them down, these articles are about my generation. And my parents’ generation. And every generation that has ever existed since the dawn of humans. Yes, they’re phrased as “Millennials are killing X industry, and that’s bad,” but what they’re really saying is, “The times, they are a-changin’, and that scares the shit out of me.” I don’t agree with those articles, because I think they’re impressively idiotic. But I think the key to battling moronicism is understanding what makes a moron moronic. I haven’t decided whether my own insight is fortunate or unfortunate, but …

This Generation Is Changing The World In A Way That I’m Not Prepared For, And Therefore It Must Be Stopped

Let’s say you live in some tribal culture a few thousand years before the first guy with a Christ complex comes along. Your basic priorities in life are to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat. But because Walmart hasn’t invented guns and smoker grills yet, most of your time is wrapped up in that whole “prevent death by shoving food in your suck-hole” hobby. During your midlife crisis at age 12, you realize, “Holy crap, I’m actually pretty good at this cooking thing. Life would be so much simpler if people just brought me dead things, and I made the meals for everyone.” It makes sense, right? That gives everyone else a couple more hours per day to sleep and/or fuck. In exchange, maybe they throw you an extra rat or something for your trouble. Boom, the first McDonald’s is born.

Within weeks, very few people in your tribe are making their own meals. Why would they? You have that shit covered. This upsets the 25-year-old elders, who spread warnings of impending disaster. “Ogg Brrrpth has destroyed the vital skill of cooking! What if he dies tomorrow? Who will then make our food?” This is a legitimate problem, but not an unsolvable one. You suggest training a couple of apprentices who can step in and take over when you inevitably get eaten by dragons. But the elders are still terrified. “It’s impossible! You have doomed us all,” they shout through mouthfuls of food that you prepared.

Flash-forward several thousand years, substitute “food” with “economy,” and you get a pretty good idea of how this cycle continues today. For instance, this article from Business Insider talks about how millennials are killing casual restaurants. It’s not preaching doom, but the argument it produces among readers is “What does this do to our economy?” I mean, TGI Fridays alone pulled in $1.57 billion in 2015. In 2013, they employed over 70,000 people. That’s a pretty big chunk of change. Take that away, and we’re losing a massive amount of income, spending, and taxes. But “Millennials are killing casual restaurants” does not mean “Millennials have stopped eating food.” They’re just doing it elsewhere. And spending a metric fuckload of money in the process.

My generation doesn’t see the growth because we’re distracted by watching the current crop of humans destroying the conveniences we built. We don’t see that it’s often in favor of another, way more convenient and profitable system. My parents thought computers were making kids dumber because for some reason words on physical paper … magically made people smart? My grandparents bemoaned fast food because it was destroying home cooking and family meals. Their parents were worried that cars made people lazy. And back in those tribal days, I guarantee there were a bunch of traditionalists complaining that “Kids these days have it way too easy. You can’t truly appreciate a meal unless you’ve felt the warm blood of a fresh kill on your hands.”

My generation created a ton of conveniences with the technology that was available, and we did it by deconstructing and remodeling the ones my parents created. We then got used to those conveniences and couldn’t imagine life without them. And now that we see them being deconstructed by our own kids, we have to adapt to the new stuff. And that’s as scary as a John Holmes anal scene.

And that means …

The Problems Millennials Are Dealing With For The First Time Are Problems We’re Dealing With For The First Time

This is going to sound like a really stupid statement, because it kind of is: Modern problems are modern. But it’s important in understanding why every headline about the current generation sounds like old people screaming “We’re all gonna fuckin’ die!” I’m going to give you a minor example of how this works.

In the late 1980s, my dad somehow found a way to splurge and buy us a Nintendo. I’m assuming he harvested and sold the kidneys of a drifter, because we could barely afford clothes at the time. We lost our shit when we opened that box on Christmas morning, and we couldn’t wait to hook it up and start smashing bricks and stomping turtles … and also play Super Mario Bros. We rushed back to the crappy black-and-white TV in our bedroom, and … spent the next hour trying to figure out why it wasn’t working.

See, the original Nintendo had an RF switch, which looked like this:

Via Museumofplay.org

It’s pretty simple by today’s standards, but remember, home entertainment was just becoming a thing back then. Very few people were versed in hooking up electronics. You had to figure out how to run the cable through the switch, then run the switch through the VCR, which then went into the back of the TV. The TV had to be on a specific channel in order to display what was on the VCR. And the VCR itself had to be on a specific channel in order to display what was on the Nintendo. Get one step wrong, and you’re playing a game of Jack Vs. Shit with your friend Chad Nobody.

This is more important than you might realize. See, if my bicycle broke, Dad could fix it (and teach me how), because he grew up with a bike too. He knew how they work from experience. The design has been the same since 1885, so my bicycle problem had at one point been his bicycle problem.

But this Nintendo thing was brand-new to both of us. He knew as much about fixing that problem as I did, so after an hour, his frustration boiled over into “I have no idea: Learn how to fix it yourself. Why can’t you just go outside and poke roadkill with a stick like we used to do?” In his mind, my generation created this new thing which killed off his familiar means of entertainment. Then when a problem flopped its big ol’ dick across our chins, his reaction was to slap it away and blame me for letting it. “You wanted this, so you deal with the cock-chin.”

Now imagine the same scenario, but you’re the parent, and your teenager’s phone bricks. What the hell do you do? Both you and your kid have come to depend on cellphones, and now you’re both in the same boat — you have a $900 paperweight, and neither of you knows what to do about it. When you’re in that position, it’s extremely easy to resent the modern convenience. “If we still had a land line, this wouldn’t be an issue. But now I have to go back to the cellphone store and fuck around with that for three hours. If the warranty is expired, I’ll have to buy a new one. This is BULLSHIT!”

But at its core, you’re just outright embarrassed. You feel insignificant, and it’s all that goddamn phone’s fault. And when that kid learns to fix it on their own? That means they’re now smarter than you. They don’t need your help anymore. You either learn what they just learned, or you become obsolete.

Understand that even though we often overlook that aspect, we’re not totally unaware of it. The frustration overshadows logic when we’re in the moment, but I think a lot of us do recognize that we’re perpetuating an eons-old cycle. So if we’re self-aware, why do we keep buying into those dumbass blind panic articles? Well …

There’s A Kernel Of Truth In Most Of Those Articles

My middle son is very much like me, in that he prefers most of his communication to happen with a thick wall of internet between himself and his target. I’m not great at meatspace conversations, and I goddamn loathe talking on a phone (which is ironic, since several hours of my day are spent on editorial calls … I’m a very important person). With text, I can take the time to craft what I want to say. If I type something stupid, I can just delete it and start over. Start an actual verbal sentence with “You know the thing that nobody understands about reverse racism,” and that shit is now in the ear holes of your peers, no takebacks.

There is, however, a huge difference between me choosing that form of communication and my teenage son doing it: He’s never been forced to learn the harder skill in the first place.

What I’m about to say is going to make me sound like an old man screaming “GIT OFF-A MAH LAWN,” but bear with me. There’s a reason I’m bringing it up. When I was a kid, we had video games, but even multiplayer required your friends to be in the same room with you. Having food delivered still required you, at a bare minimum, to speak to another human on the phone. A ton of our entertainment required face-to-face interaction … even with people you hated. There’s a Chad in every group, and learning to deal with that douchebag is extremely important.

Have you ever had to deal with a really rude customer service worker? What tone and expression do you use when you get pulled over by a cop? Ever had to make a believable ass-saving excuse on the fly? How can you tell when someone is masking that they’re offended? Can you tell by reading their body language and tone of voice? All of that shit comes from practice, and you only get it by spending a nutload of time around people in the physical world. I didn’t do that by choice. I was forced to do it. The big difference I was referring to is that my son is not. And I’m not going to force him to do it, but I realize there are consequences for that.

I had to teach him that using a certain tone when making a joke — especially dark ones — could be misconstrued. That people could take him seriously if he didn’t know the very subtle cues that let them in on it. That sarcasm in text is a totally different structure than sarcasm coming out of your word hole.

So what does all of that have to do with these kinds of articles? Well, as much as I hate to admit it, a lot of them actually do have a sliver of insight. Just a slight hint of truth. Yes, millennials are a contributing factor to Applebee’s declining sales. Yes, millennials do have more trouble talking on the phone than older generations. And yes, they do in fact start “real world” life later than their parents.

When you mix those kernels of truth with a bunch of dumb outrage bait, like this horseshit article, it gets easier and easier to buy into the fucknuttery. It’s a powerful form of dishonesty that starts as an astute observation and ends as your grandmother saying, “See, I knew those video games were the devil!”

Don’t let it get to you. My grandparents’ generation said the same thing about my parents. My parents’ generation said the same thing about mine (we were called “slackers” — I now own my own house). And now my generation is keeping that shit-ball rolling right onto yours. They want to blame you for Toys R Us going bankrupt? Fine. I’ll reap the rewards of your generation allowing me to buy toys without ever leaving my chair.

That is, until millennials kill the concept of chairs.

John Cheese is a senior editor and the head of columns for Cracked. You can find him on Twitter.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

Learn how the generation gap makes it impossible for us to all get along in 5 Lies Millennials And Baby Boomers Believe About Each Other, and see how teens are unfairly judged in 5 Complaints About Modern Teens (That Are Statistically BS).

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and find out why we’re lost in a sea of confusion in The Worst Advice To Get In Your 20s, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

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Read more: http://ift.tt/2xDI6cL

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[trendingnewsb]

Why Old People Think Millennials Are Killing The World

I can’t take another article about millennials. Which is ironic, since the title of this article will likely have the word “millennials” in it. Since it’s sort of about … you know, millennials. I say “sort of” because I don’t think the tidal wave of “MILLENNIALS ARE KILLING ____” pieces are really about them. Not at their core.

When you really break them down, these articles are about my generation. And my parents’ generation. And every generation that has ever existed since the dawn of humans. Yes, they’re phrased as “Millennials are killing X industry, and that’s bad,” but what they’re really saying is, “The times, they are a-changin’, and that scares the shit out of me.” I don’t agree with those articles, because I think they’re impressively idiotic. But I think the key to battling moronicism is understanding what makes a moron moronic. I haven’t decided whether my own insight is fortunate or unfortunate, but …

This Generation Is Changing The World In A Way That I’m Not Prepared For, And Therefore It Must Be Stopped

Let’s say you live in some tribal culture a few thousand years before the first guy with a Christ complex comes along. Your basic priorities in life are to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat. But because Walmart hasn’t invented guns and smoker grills yet, most of your time is wrapped up in that whole “prevent death by shoving food in your suck-hole” hobby. During your midlife crisis at age 12, you realize, “Holy crap, I’m actually pretty good at this cooking thing. Life would be so much simpler if people just brought me dead things, and I made the meals for everyone.” It makes sense, right? That gives everyone else a couple more hours per day to sleep and/or fuck. In exchange, maybe they throw you an extra rat or something for your trouble. Boom, the first McDonald’s is born.

Within weeks, very few people in your tribe are making their own meals. Why would they? You have that shit covered. This upsets the 25-year-old elders, who spread warnings of impending disaster. “Ogg Brrrpth has destroyed the vital skill of cooking! What if he dies tomorrow? Who will then make our food?” This is a legitimate problem, but not an unsolvable one. You suggest training a couple of apprentices who can step in and take over when you inevitably get eaten by dragons. But the elders are still terrified. “It’s impossible! You have doomed us all,” they shout through mouthfuls of food that you prepared.

Flash-forward several thousand years, substitute “food” with “economy,” and you get a pretty good idea of how this cycle continues today. For instance, this article from Business Insider talks about how millennials are killing casual restaurants. It’s not preaching doom, but the argument it produces among readers is “What does this do to our economy?” I mean, TGI Fridays alone pulled in $1.57 billion in 2015. In 2013, they employed over 70,000 people. That’s a pretty big chunk of change. Take that away, and we’re losing a massive amount of income, spending, and taxes. But “Millennials are killing casual restaurants” does not mean “Millennials have stopped eating food.” They’re just doing it elsewhere. And spending a metric fuckload of money in the process.

My generation doesn’t see the growth because we’re distracted by watching the current crop of humans destroying the conveniences we built. We don’t see that it’s often in favor of another, way more convenient and profitable system. My parents thought computers were making kids dumber because for some reason words on physical paper … magically made people smart? My grandparents bemoaned fast food because it was destroying home cooking and family meals. Their parents were worried that cars made people lazy. And back in those tribal days, I guarantee there were a bunch of traditionalists complaining that “Kids these days have it way too easy. You can’t truly appreciate a meal unless you’ve felt the warm blood of a fresh kill on your hands.”

My generation created a ton of conveniences with the technology that was available, and we did it by deconstructing and remodeling the ones my parents created. We then got used to those conveniences and couldn’t imagine life without them. And now that we see them being deconstructed by our own kids, we have to adapt to the new stuff. And that’s as scary as a John Holmes anal scene.

And that means …

The Problems Millennials Are Dealing With For The First Time Are Problems We’re Dealing With For The First Time

This is going to sound like a really stupid statement, because it kind of is: Modern problems are modern. But it’s important in understanding why every headline about the current generation sounds like old people screaming “We’re all gonna fuckin’ die!” I’m going to give you a minor example of how this works.

In the late 1980s, my dad somehow found a way to splurge and buy us a Nintendo. I’m assuming he harvested and sold the kidneys of a drifter, because we could barely afford clothes at the time. We lost our shit when we opened that box on Christmas morning, and we couldn’t wait to hook it up and start smashing bricks and stomping turtles … and also play Super Mario Bros. We rushed back to the crappy black-and-white TV in our bedroom, and … spent the next hour trying to figure out why it wasn’t working.

See, the original Nintendo had an RF switch, which looked like this:

Via Museumofplay.org

It’s pretty simple by today’s standards, but remember, home entertainment was just becoming a thing back then. Very few people were versed in hooking up electronics. You had to figure out how to run the cable through the switch, then run the switch through the VCR, which then went into the back of the TV. The TV had to be on a specific channel in order to display what was on the VCR. And the VCR itself had to be on a specific channel in order to display what was on the Nintendo. Get one step wrong, and you’re playing a game of Jack Vs. Shit with your friend Chad Nobody.

This is more important than you might realize. See, if my bicycle broke, Dad could fix it (and teach me how), because he grew up with a bike too. He knew how they work from experience. The design has been the same since 1885, so my bicycle problem had at one point been his bicycle problem.

But this Nintendo thing was brand-new to both of us. He knew as much about fixing that problem as I did, so after an hour, his frustration boiled over into “I have no idea: Learn how to fix it yourself. Why can’t you just go outside and poke roadkill with a stick like we used to do?” In his mind, my generation created this new thing which killed off his familiar means of entertainment. Then when a problem flopped its big ol’ dick across our chins, his reaction was to slap it away and blame me for letting it. “You wanted this, so you deal with the cock-chin.”

Now imagine the same scenario, but you’re the parent, and your teenager’s phone bricks. What the hell do you do? Both you and your kid have come to depend on cellphones, and now you’re both in the same boat — you have a $900 paperweight, and neither of you knows what to do about it. When you’re in that position, it’s extremely easy to resent the modern convenience. “If we still had a land line, this wouldn’t be an issue. But now I have to go back to the cellphone store and fuck around with that for three hours. If the warranty is expired, I’ll have to buy a new one. This is BULLSHIT!”

But at its core, you’re just outright embarrassed. You feel insignificant, and it’s all that goddamn phone’s fault. And when that kid learns to fix it on their own? That means they’re now smarter than you. They don’t need your help anymore. You either learn what they just learned, or you become obsolete.

Understand that even though we often overlook that aspect, we’re not totally unaware of it. The frustration overshadows logic when we’re in the moment, but I think a lot of us do recognize that we’re perpetuating an eons-old cycle. So if we’re self-aware, why do we keep buying into those dumbass blind panic articles? Well …

There’s A Kernel Of Truth In Most Of Those Articles

My middle son is very much like me, in that he prefers most of his communication to happen with a thick wall of internet between himself and his target. I’m not great at meatspace conversations, and I goddamn loathe talking on a phone (which is ironic, since several hours of my day are spent on editorial calls … I’m a very important person). With text, I can take the time to craft what I want to say. If I type something stupid, I can just delete it and start over. Start an actual verbal sentence with “You know the thing that nobody understands about reverse racism,” and that shit is now in the ear holes of your peers, no takebacks.

There is, however, a huge difference between me choosing that form of communication and my teenage son doing it: He’s never been forced to learn the harder skill in the first place.

What I’m about to say is going to make me sound like an old man screaming “GIT OFF-A MAH LAWN,” but bear with me. There’s a reason I’m bringing it up. When I was a kid, we had video games, but even multiplayer required your friends to be in the same room with you. Having food delivered still required you, at a bare minimum, to speak to another human on the phone. A ton of our entertainment required face-to-face interaction … even with people you hated. There’s a Chad in every group, and learning to deal with that douchebag is extremely important.

Have you ever had to deal with a really rude customer service worker? What tone and expression do you use when you get pulled over by a cop? Ever had to make a believable ass-saving excuse on the fly? How can you tell when someone is masking that they’re offended? Can you tell by reading their body language and tone of voice? All of that shit comes from practice, and you only get it by spending a nutload of time around people in the physical world. I didn’t do that by choice. I was forced to do it. The big difference I was referring to is that my son is not. And I’m not going to force him to do it, but I realize there are consequences for that.

I had to teach him that using a certain tone when making a joke — especially dark ones — could be misconstrued. That people could take him seriously if he didn’t know the very subtle cues that let them in on it. That sarcasm in text is a totally different structure than sarcasm coming out of your word hole.

So what does all of that have to do with these kinds of articles? Well, as much as I hate to admit it, a lot of them actually do have a sliver of insight. Just a slight hint of truth. Yes, millennials are a contributing factor to Applebee’s declining sales. Yes, millennials do have more trouble talking on the phone than older generations. And yes, they do in fact start “real world” life later than their parents.

When you mix those kernels of truth with a bunch of dumb outrage bait, like this horseshit article, it gets easier and easier to buy into the fucknuttery. It’s a powerful form of dishonesty that starts as an astute observation and ends as your grandmother saying, “See, I knew those video games were the devil!”

Don’t let it get to you. My grandparents’ generation said the same thing about my parents. My parents’ generation said the same thing about mine (we were called “slackers” — I now own my own house). And now my generation is keeping that shit-ball rolling right onto yours. They want to blame you for Toys R Us going bankrupt? Fine. I’ll reap the rewards of your generation allowing me to buy toys without ever leaving my chair.

That is, until millennials kill the concept of chairs.

John Cheese is a senior editor and the head of columns for Cracked. You can find him on Twitter.

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

Learn how the generation gap makes it impossible for us to all get along in 5 Lies Millennials And Baby Boomers Believe About Each Other, and see how teens are unfairly judged in 5 Complaints About Modern Teens (That Are Statistically BS).

Subscribe to our YouTube channel, and find out why we’re lost in a sea of confusion in The Worst Advice To Get In Your 20s, and watch other videos you won’t see on the site!

Also follow our new Pictofacts Facebook page. You won’t regret it.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2xDI6cL

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2hdCbUE via Viral News HQ