#thin people have the most insane cognitive dissonance

[anotherpapercut]

fucking hate it when (nonfiction) podcasters don't advertise any way to contact them. if you're going to say incorrect and mean spirited shit that's just punching down you should have a way for people to hold you accountable

[therealieblog]

Myths About Diets

MYTH: You can just “shrink your stomach” and then you’ll get full easier and eat less naturally. All you have to do is starve yourself down to a smaller size, get used to not eating carbs/sugar or eating smaller portions and it will eventually become natural and feel easy. 

TRUTH: The human body sees diets/food restrictions as starvation. It does not know that you are trying to lose weight on purpose. All it knows is there is less food coming in and that less food = eventual death. It will fight you every step of the way, and the moment you let your guard down, it will use increased hunger hormones to try and make you regain everything you’ve lost. This hunger to refeed the body never goes away. Not unless a person is deep in the depths of a severe eating disorder. And at that point, you should really seek medical help.

MYTH: Fat people are just lazy and that’s why they don’t want to/can’t lose weight.

TRUTH: Dieting is insanely difficult. It’s shocking really the cognitive dissonance between how people complain relentlessly over how unpleasant and difficult dieting and constant exercise is, and yet turn around and then blame fat people for not wanting to put themselves through all that. Dieting is horribly traumatic to the human body (just as any sort of starvation is), and a person must literally fight uphill for months or years to lose a significant amount of weight and keep it off. This myth, that fat people are lazy and morally flawed for not wanting to diet/failing at dieting is one of the most tragic misconceptions in our culture. It costs lives. It’s not OK.

MYTH: Once you’ve lost weight on a diet, all your issues will disappear. 

TRUTH: Nope. Insecurity and self hate comes from an internal place. Yes, I was happy when I lost weight because I gained the approval of society, and I could buy skinny clothes and be seen as more attractive etc. But I was haunted constantly by the fear of gaining the weight back, and I was preoccupied to an obsessive degree with food, fat, sugar, exercise and my appearance. Dieting very often causes obsessive tendencies and harshly self critical attitudes. Most people who lose weight become convinced that they should lose more, or that their stretch marks or their skin quality, or the way their ass looks is still unsatisfactory. 

And then there is the intense hyper-focus on food restrictions and exercise that you must absolutely keep up with rigorously if the weight is to be kept off. It will never end. You must be diligent or you’ll gain weight again. It’s a miserable way to live, and the people who successfully live this way for decades are the exception and not at all the rule. Celebrities and fitspo bloggers and so forth are INTENSELY FOCUSED on weight and food for a large part of their day. Most people cannot live like that and be happy.

MYTH: Being fat means you are unhealthy. 

TRUTH:  You cannot tell someone’s level of health simply by looking at them. There are fat aerobics instructors, fat dancers, fat marathon runners, fat olympic athletes. Genetics plays a large role in our health, combined with healthy behaviors. A fat person who eats a wide variety of foods, from cake to salad, and who moves around and has an active social life and who knows how to handle every day stresses is just as likely to be healthy as a thin person who does the same. And a thin person who smokes, drinks heavily, leads a sedentary life and who is stressed out continually is just as unhealthy as a fat person who does the same. Assuming that a person is unhealthy just because they are fat is a narrative that’s sold to you by the multi-billion dollar diet industry to sell products. Don’t buy into it. 

[violetsystems]

#personal

I deposited my first check for my business yesterday at the bank.  I had to go to the teller because it’s an entirely different account.  They repeated the name back to me off the check and asked me if I wanted a balance.  If you look at my life from the right perspective everything seems amazing.  Truthfully, they say the American dream is owning your own business.  They say a lot of dumb shit about America.  Now more than ever.  Which is why it’s nice sometimes to stick around in a neighborhood and let people battle it out in terms of what they think of you.  It’s been about ten months of insane isolation.  I spend most of my time at home alone with my cat.  I talk to my parents every so often but nobody really else intimately.  Other than here.  I live in a city so it’s impossible to be alone once you leave the house.  I sometimes think that’s a hard balance to maintain.  It gets easier over time the less I worry about the outside world.  I know it’s hard to when you live on a planet in the middle of a dense, dark universe.  But these days I pay more attention to space in the news more than anything.  I just bought a few things for my business to experiment with.  A mini drone to learn Python with.  I flew it out on the porch for a few seconds until my neighbor poked their head out.  Everybody out here is always in everybody else’s business.  It’s almost a reflex.  Oddly enough when I fly it indoors my cat just rolls her eyes at it.  I’ve been continuing to apply for jobs and maintain a presence on the job sites.  But everything whiffs in such a weird way.  It’s like I’m invisible until I’m out on the street.  Then it’s everyone wasting my time and energy trying to project some secret messages or agenda.  It’s laughable at this point.  You’d think after years of fucking with somebody on a guerilla level you’d bother to at least acknowledge them with more than a glare.  And yet people can’t be bothered to be kind or understanding.  There’s not enough of it in the world.  So when you walk that path, everyone has their hand out.  Everybody expects it’s a given that we’re all in this together.  When it comes to my physical address behind closed doors most assuredly this is not true.  But considering my business address and my residence are one and the same right now, it’s not too hard to know I’m painted in a corner.  I don’t have friends that even check on me to see how I’m doing other than here.  Everybody in this city is too caught up in a lie or afraid of being exposed.  I can confirm this by simple math.  The people I still keep up with are business transactions at best.  There’s an icy veil between that where you get this feeling you aren’t welcome into any real social circle anymore.  This feels even worse applying for jobs in this city.  I just got out of a twenty year employment opportunity where you get to work with your friends.  Only to find ten months after being let go, none of those people were my friends.  I personally at this point care more about making money than friends.  The teller is friendly enough when they stare at my account from behind the screen.  It’s a nightmare to think over two years ago my life was quite the opposite despite having it all.  Dream jobs are in the past now.  Everybody’s godson is their own personal cybersecurity officer.  The nerds got rid of their IT managers and are locked in their bedrooms on zoom with their cameras off.  I’m more excited about drones on Mars and autonomous delivery.  And I still see no future for me here, there or everywhere.

The biggest lesson for me has been about validation.  There is a point when what you want to do isn’t the clearest road.  I’ve had my share of friends doubt who I wanted to be or become.  I’ve cautiously shared things about my life I couldn’t put into words only to have my concerns gaslighted or dwarfed for the main narrative.  People who lie are really good at one thing.  Continuing to lie.  When I catch people in lies, it makes me angry.  Mostly because the one thing I’ve always tried to do was be transparent, accountable and real.  The way I see America when I walk out my door is severely broken.  A thousand fractured narratives clashing together in selfishness.  I try to keep the peace and bridge things together as best I can.  But I’m no politician.  I’m not even an activist.  I’ve been duct taping my life together for almost a year only to realize everybody else’s is far worse off.  Social distancing through the plague has brought me to extremes.  It helped me distance myself from years of my life I’d been caught up in.  And yet now I find myself caught up in a city rather than a suburban area I crawled out from years ago.  College is so far away.  I actually took masters level courses in Psychology.  I wanted to go into artificial intelligence.  I settled for data analytics and human resources.  Never really did much with that degree other than learn how to spot crazy.  I don’t have any student loans to trade for leverage with an employer.  Everybody follows me around and talks behind my back to the point where I wonder if employers have a red flag tabbed on my LinkedIn profile.  The shit I have seen done with my life is so fucking amateur that people would rather erase me than confront the problem.  And therein lies the lesson.  You have to validate yourself.  Believing in yourself and walking away from the table is a tough thing when everyone negs you to think less.  But there’s a point when my Viking roots throw caution to the wind and I tell the world I’m done.  I’m sure my Gyspy roots concur.  Not sure about the Bohemian side.  I think here is the hidden key to Nationalism.  Everybody falls back on their shallow gene pool for comfort to ease the cognitive dissonance of society being a chaotic fuck show.  Primitive thinking that can’t evolve beyond pattern recognition.  The things I’m supposed to be proud of are very finite to me.  They don’t span generations or even decades.  The last ten months has been the most bleak and soul churning I have ever experienced.  And I experienced it quietly with my family and my real friends in a weird sort of intimacy.  And even my parents don’t really know what goes on with me too deeply.  There’s a point when you have to be your own person.  And some people can’t break free and stand on their own too without fear or pain.  So they’d rather fall back into a crowd.  Where they can stop being judged, negated or feel unsure about where they stand.  That is a crutch.  Sometimes the world is so hurt you need something to stand on.  And sometimes the bones heal you back all gnarled and distorted.  You look inward and all you feel is hate.  And that hate isn’t you.  It’s not a good thing to be angry all the time.  And yet I feel it too.  More so these days when I let myself get angry over things and people outside my control.  The people outside my door don’t ever validate me in a way that’s dignified or respectful.  And that says a lot about the world in general versus how I choose to live.  The real lesson I’ve learned is that this is the way it is.  If you want to change it, you must start with yourself.  And there’s some things you can’t change.  The hell of other people trying to intrude and muscle in on your place on this planet.  

It’s hard to love yourself when everyone else is judging your every move.  It makes you think there is something wrong with you.  And the world is always looking for something to point it’s finger on.  We’re all being judged.  We’re all under duress.  We are all paranoid looking over our shoulder.  I should know because I catch someone with a knowing look out my periphery every ten or fifteen seconds.  That’s a lot to subconsciously prepare for every day I want to live my life.  And yet I know there are people who are simply continuing to live through a lie.  To be further manipulated away from controlling themselves.  The reactionary bullshit in America serves a dual purpose.  Thinning out the herd.  We are so caught up in headlines we never read the fine print.  We are enraged, huddled together through protest and then led further down the rabbit hole with no end in sight.  We complain about government but can’t name a single piece of legislation other than guns that have saved our freedom.  I’ll name one for you.  The CARES act.  We know everything about everyone every second of the day but have never even asked anyone’s name.  And you can seek out that whirl wind circle jerk of group hugs and prayer circles all you want.  People are still just going through the motions.  Saying the right things to avoid confrontation even if it means blatantly warping the truth.  Ask anybody I used to work with.  I would ask them for you but they pretend I’m fucking dead.  And this was how it was supposed to feel I gather.  I was to be taught a lesson.  Freedom isn’t free.  It did teach me a lot about life.  Mostly that I’m not really sensitive to anything other than my own ethics.  There’s things I don’t do.  And these things are observed and never clarified.  I live in a silent void of rumor, legacy and shadow.  I’m living that life you people brag about in public.  Whatever that life is I’m not even quite sure.  I’m terribly alone in all of this and not at the same time.  And it requires me to have confidence enough to simply and effortless believe I’m worth it.  Like some vicious game of poker.  I’m all in at my own kitchen table.  I have no dreams left other than to be free.  And maybe to learn Premiere editing 4k drone videos in my spare time.  I don’t really fucking know anymore what to do other than to continue to not humor anyone’s dumb ass bullshit.  And to be real, this entire experience has taught me firsthand how worthless and fucked up my past is here in America.  Everybody wants some shame to hold over you so you stay a bargain.  Everybody wants to roast you and take your shine so they can look mediocre next to you at best.  Everybody wants to bring everyone down to their level regardless if it’s legal, civil or ethical.  And yet when you do the same, you understand what the problem is.  I’ve walked the walk for years and everybody can’t stop talking their shit.  Now people have run out of bad things to say.  So they either pretend I’m a ghost or speak like I’m some urban legend.  And thinking too much into that can drive an intelligent person insane.  Which is why knowing what I know I stay out of everything completely.  Even when I don’t you can see how much it drags me down to humor it all like a good sport.  These people out here do not play fair.  They never have.  And the only winning move is not to play.  I learned that from Wargames years ago.  Everybody wants to be a hacker now.  If you learn one thing from Hackers the movie.  The M1 is here to stay.  And never try to hack a gibson.  That’s the only ICE you have to fear when it comes to crossing my path.  Flatline your shit and leave you staring at the ground awkwardly with your well meaning intrusive bullshit.  End of line.  <3 Tim

[johnandrasjaqobis]

69 vic 🥺

how would they describe their party members?

I think the party as a whole he would simplify to “they’re my best friends.” Which is true (well, PAT is still on thin ice and Raelian is working her way up but he thinks she’s Neat). It’s all for very different reasons, all very different roles, but these are, in fact, the closest friends he’s had in years.

More individually HM (I keep ending up going into all this like. Analysis with these questions, so I’ll split it up this time with how he’d describe them to a stranger and how he like, Personally thinks of them)

PAT  Tall-ish guy -- shorter than me, a bit, but not by much. Wild hair, I’ve...never actually seen his eyes, I think? He’s always got this little fluffball of a dog with him. Weirdly chill, like you might suspect it’s a drug-induced chill at first, but I’m pretty sure he’s just Like That. Weird habit of handing out buttons? PAT is. Bizarre. Useful in a fight, and good to have around when people need a boost, but he doesn’t seem to really get boundaries. Or at least his dog doesn’t. And he controls the dog to some extent, right? That’s how familiars work, Vic has met wizards with familiars, they’re not some kind of independent -- but regardless, PAT is odd. Pleasant enough, just. A little uncanny.

Raelian Also shorter than me, I think under six foot? These little...scales, maybe, they kinda look like scales. Probably easy to see because there’s a high chance of her getting Directly in your face. She’s stupidly fast, I think I have literally seen her run on a wall before. Usually in this crop top, because abs I guess? She is scrappy. Confident. Not entirely aware of personal space when she’s trying to figure something out, but she does (mostly) know when to back off, at least for a bit. Raelian is also a bit odd, but honestly there’s been so much going on since they met that it’s been hard to be too curious about her and her weird spectral arms. She’s great help hitting things. The rest can be figured out later.

Nev White, fuzzy, big floppy ears. Not like...I mean the ears do kinda look rabbit-ish, but she’s a firbolg, I’m pretty sure is the term? Decent armor and this wicked spear. (The spear can and will fuck you up, do not get on the receiving end of that spear.) Probably not too much of a risk though, because Nev is just. Insanely nice to people who haven’t given her a reason to be otherwise. She is blind, but it doesn’t seem to hinder her much at all. Nev is, pretty certainly, the best of them. I mean look at her. She is constantly, actively trying to keep everyone together and keep them...well, as good as anyone can be right now. He really doesn’t want her to worry as much as she is, but also can definitely see where the worry is coming from. Nev is kind and thoughtful and a total badass in combat and gives the best hugs. He’s pretty sure, whether they all know it consciously or not, she’s the main reason the party has actually (mostly) stuck together this long.

Anthe  Halfling, so. Short. At least comparatively, I’m not all that familiar with halflings in general. Wears a lot of colors, comfy looking clothes. Always got flowers in her hair, apparently always fresh because of some kind of magic? Got a bunch of little necklaces and trinkets and. bones and weird things sometimes, but that’s just for spells. I think. Even with the height you definitely can’t miss her, she’s a very big personality.  She is,,, too similar to him to be comfortable. There’s no changing it, and he loves Anthe, but there’s a definite feeling of looking in a mirror with a lot of the stuff she does, that cognitive dissonance of knowing it’s not good for her and also knowing that he’s doing so much of the exact same thing. But at the same time it’s nice because she gets it. Vic genuinely loves how she ends up rambling while trying to put thoughts in the right order (bc mood), how authentic she is with trying to help people.

Nol Big blue coat, fur collar, literal halo -- all that is. Hard to miss. She’s got a big presence and a lot of magic. Still really...closed off? Which is understandable, really, but it -- not relevant. No surprise if she snaps at you. I’d say don’t take it personally but it might be kind of personal honestly. Just. Don’t fuck with Nol. No one’s gonna be happy with the outcome. Nol is. Nol. Complicated. Also...the one he’s looking after now. He’s looking after them all, really, but yeah, okay, there’s definitely an automatic bias toward the wizard. (It’s only logical, she needs it the most, she’s insanely powerful, but she’s also not exactly as sturdy as the rest of them.) ((she’s not him, though, she’s not)) Maybe it’s uh. Not entirely a healthy dependence forming. Formed. But the fact that she seems to. Legitimately trust him is huge. And he’s very determined not to betray that. I mean holy shit she’s asking his help making a spell, like ???

[abstract-apocalypse]

all ending with a 5 or 0 for vitellia :)

5: How old is your OC?

Early to mid twenties!

10: What is your OCs favorite outfit?

A pale pink dress in a light, drapey fabric, with a slit up one leg to show that sexy curvaceous thigh and hip. It's got either thin straps or is off-shoulder or one-shoulder (can you tell I just made this dress up?), and she wears it with plenty of fancy gold jewelry and either sandals or ballet slipper type shoes.

15: What makes your OC angry?

Not much, to be honest. She's pretty easygoing and levelheaded. People who oppose the Legion annoy her a bit, but she thinks most are probably just misguided and don't know about all the wonderful things about it (probably the NCR lying to them). Deep down, I think she has a little bit of anger at her father-- her older sister was kind of a free spirit by Legion standards, and her father grew tired of it and gave her to a shitty husband as punishment (beneath her class And just a bad dude who would treat her bad)-- but she's buried that under a lot of layers of justification and cognitive dissonance and just plain not thinking about it.

20: What’s your OCs favorite kind of pizza?

Hmm, I think she would enjoy mushroom, anchovies, pepperoni, and lots of cheese. I hope those make sense to put on a pizza together, I'm not a huge pizza eater and when I do have it only cheese and pepperoni, so I don't have much knowledge in this area.

25: What time of year does your OC prefer?

She likes all the seasons tbh! There's so much to love about each one, whether it's the floral vistas and rebirth of spring, the greenery and lazy heat of summer, the colorful foliage and crisp air of fall, or the monochromatic landscapes and still quiet of winter!

30: What does your OC choose to do about the, er, hair down there?

You know what's insane? As much time as I spend thinking about my OC's genitals, I haven't considered this question! She leaves it all natural.

35: How flexible is your OC?

Somewhat, but nothing really impressive. She isn't very athletic, so hasn't spent much time or effort improving that sort of skill.

40: What is the wildest thing your OC has done?

She isn't very wild to be honest, and has never even left Legion territory. Do lesbian orgies count? Because she's probably done a few of those.

45: Does your OC like reading?

She does! Especially poetry, but other writing too-- she'll read any format, any genre. She and her friend Xochil (@mojave-musing) like to read historical epics together.

50: Does your OC cry easily?

YES. Anything from hearing a sad story, to reading a tragic book, to just something really beautiful and moving. She's sensitive.

55: What gender is your OC?

A cis lady!

60: Does your OC enjoy nature?

Yes! She loves beautiful landscapes, with a special soft spot for flowers (watching Arachne (@isodopeds) tend her plants is a favorite pastime). She isn't really a roughing it sort of gal, but she likes being in nature as long as she doesn't have to hunt her own food or anything like that.

Thank you so much for the ask!!!

[chaniters]

Clarity

Faced with imminent death, the heroes have a brief moment of clarity. Awan’s tech skills are put to the test against The Void.

Enjoy!

_________________________________

You approach the canisters to examine the attached explosives.

Charge and Anathema follow you closely.

"A little space... please?" you say nervously. They step back as you try to make heads or tails of it all.

Charge starts calling with a large brick phone... warning the LDPD about the need for immediate evacuation of the area. You hope it's not too late for that...

As you thought, it's impossible to just remove the bombs. and emptying canisters full of hero drugs without the proper equipment is also suicidal. It's already gaseous in its current state, and the entire lab is set to create many tiny doses to sell on the streets, not to store large amounts of it.

Ok... The only way is forward. Lucky you, you've done this before in training.

"We need to remove the lids over here first" You explain while looking for the tools in your bag. "Just need a screwdriver for this and..."

"Allow me" Anathema approaches and slides a finger over the first lid. You flinch momentarily, fearing the worst... but he is careful... the acid only corrodes a very thin line, and the lid falls off in no time.

"Or that," you say. "That works too" you begin working on the first bomb, as he repeats the procedure on the second lid.

Ortega looks incredibly nervous, and that does NOT help. Anathema exudes fear, not for himself but for the two of you... You don't want to break his bubble of invulnerability by reminding him that such a concentration of hero drugs would kill him too, like a bug exposed to insecticide... that wouldn't do any good no...

Good thing you were creating explosives as well... you have pretty much all the essentials in your bag. You connect the first bomb's electronics to a phone you are using for field hacking and access the countdown, turning off the countermeasures...

Your phone displays the counter... 6 minutes and 30 seconds left. It's a good time so far...

You repeat the procedure on the second bomb. And then you double check them...

Only 5 minutes and 15 seconds left. You begin removing another section of the first bomb.

"Anathema, please unscrew that?" you ask him. He's less nervous than Ortega... his hand should be steady.

It's only when the second lid is removed that you truly begin to panic as well. There is a mess of cables inside. Nathaniel must have planted decoys...

Fuck. No time to find the true detonator... You can narrow it down a lot, but it still comes down to a 50% chance... green or yellow.  And the second bomb is just the same.

You rub your eyes... this can't be happening. Why you?

"Marshall... Anathema...You should both leave. I ... I have to cut a cable... And I could make a mistake. If you make it out now you could still outrun the cloud..." your voice breaks as you speak these words... but it's what's expected of you. What you were trained to do.  

"I can contain one explosion with my body" Anathema offers

You snort... "I don't... think that will work... "

"I'm staying here too" Charge states. "I can try to shortcircuit the other bomb..."

"You two are... just ...insane," you say clearing some tears. Shit, you've totally lost your cool now.

"Ok... We have one final choice to make ... yellow... Or Green? Honestly, there's no way to tell..." you confess.

They both speak at the same time after a moment...

"I say...Yellow," says Anathema

"Green must be it.." Charge chooses instead

"You are NOT helpful" you laugh nervously trying not to freak out.  

Oh shit, you're about to die.

You're not afraid of death itself... You were created to protect the innocent... at least that's what the computer programs whispered to your ears during your sleep cycles back at the farm while enduring initial training.

A servant to protect the state, to serve the innocent, to prevent pointless deaths and to face the enemies that would destroy your country. Developing your powers to the absolute maximum was your directive, all in service to the nation.

And then, that part of your training was over, and your actual missions had nothing to do with that... murdering... killing, blackmailing... spying...

You would have been content to fulfill the role you were told you had in life. The obvious hypocrisy is the first form of cognitive dissonance Regenes face in their existences.

You take a deep breath.

You know the answer... Nathaniel was not only your handler, but he was also your instructor. He taught you everything you know about explosives. You remember his words well...

"If you ever need to disarm one of my bombs in the field, 412, remember, go for the green cable".

That should be simple enough.

But then he also told you he would always have your back. That you would always be a team. That he would let you do things your way... that he almost felt you were his partner. And those were all lies.

He could have switched the bomb's sequence with a simple command of his detonator. You know how it works.

If he did... and you cut the green cable... You'll kill everyone.

You don't care to die if it will save the innocent... but to die and cause them all to die as well?

"I can't," you say walking back... "You... you do it!" you offer the tool to Charge.

"Ki... Sidestep. You're the only one who can do this" Charge says looking into your eyes. "I know what I said before but... Mierda, I believe in you, ok? You're doing better than any veterans I know... I trust you. You can do this"

"You can do this" Anathema offers you a nervous smile. Fuck. He actually means it. 

This is just so corny... But right now, their reassurance brings you some badly needed peace of mind.

59 seconds...

"I..." you take the pincers "Ok... here... here goes"

*SNAP* The first cable is cut... and you're still in one piece.

You take a deep breath... and approach the second one...

You drop the pincers. Crap! You pick them up fast as Charge lets out a light gasp.

*SNAP* The second cable is cut…

Is that it? Did you do the right thing… or not? It didn’t blow up, that’s good. But you can’t know if he switched the sequence… not yet...

24 seconds left.

"Why... why didn't the counter stop?!" Charge is losing it...

"The countdown should be disconnected from the detonator"

"How do we know that's true?"

"We can’t… we have to... wait," you say. "Nothing else we can do... if we cut more we will trigger a hard countermeasure... and no time to outrun the cloud now. I'm sorry"

You look at them... it's suddenly really cold. What if you made a mistake...? What if...

You close your eyes and raise your shields... You know they can't protect you against explosions, or poisonous clouds...but you do nonetheless. It's what your instincts tell you to do.

23...22....21... you count silently... And you can’t stop shivering.

20... 19... 18...

And then you feel... hands? Arms? Charge. He is hugging you... What in the... And then Anathema. Charge is hugging and Anathema has his arms around the both of you. Anathema places his back against the bomb... as if to absorb the explosion.

“I’ve got you guys”

You know the gas will likely still kill you all if the bomb goes off, but the symbolism of the gesture isn't lost on you. It’s stupid, but the dorks are making you feel protected and it’s… just weird. Why would anyone protect you? You were made to protect others… These humans are odd. You let them be.

"Don't be sorry Sidestep... you did your best, whatever happens." Charge says. Yeah...You can’t help think those words will be making very little sense if you all end up in pieces...

But you don’t say that.

“Thank you” is all you say them. 

9...8...7...

Ugh... You can’t help it. Maybe it’s the closeness of these two… But right now, if you are going to die... you don't want to be alone. You extend your hands and hug them as well.

You might die. So anything goes. Pretend to be one of them... To the bitter end. You wonder if it’s really different from being one. It’s almost funny...

4...3...2...

"Shitshitshitpleasebedisarmed" your lips whisper beyond your control

1...0...-1?

A few more seconds pass.

And then a few more.

Unlike most humans, you have a very good internal clock... When it’s over, you don't really need anyone to come to tell you.

"Ok ok people it's... it's over" you say...

They don't let go initially, so you have to push quite a bit to free yourself. Anathema walks a few steps wobblily, and Charge simple falls on his butt.

"Hand's off you two, the touchy-feely-special-friendship hour is over. No respect for personal space!...Geez... Are you two just clingy or what?" you dust off your clothes, to reinforce your point.

"Wh.. you were pressing hard too! Hugging us for your life!" Charge accuses you

"That's bullshit!! I did no such thing!"

"We all thought we could all die there!  What's wrong with admitting to wanting some human contact when faced with death?"

"When I need human contact, I'll ask for human contact!" you grump back at him.

"We weren’t going to wait for you asking! It was a safety maneuver! Protect the Civilian!"

"I’ve got a hero name! And I had disarmed the bomb already!!"

"Then why were you closing your eyes and trembling?"

"I wasn't trembling!"

"We all heard you whispering terrified as the count went down!" Charge glares.

You try to ignore the fact that he’s right and focus on the important point about him being an asshole right now...  

"Prove it marshall cuddles! You had your sausage fingers all over me for no good reason!" you shoot back... Why the fuck did you just say that? You end up blushing.

"W... what?" Charge seems equally confused for a few seconds before answering. "What is that even supposed to mean? You've got some serious delusions kid! I wouldn't touch you with a six-foot pole and..."

You are interrupted by the laughter.

You both turn... and see Anathema filming you.

"Please don't stop, this is just too damn funny"

"Aww...mierda... this is just... just great, look what you did" Charge complains at you.

"Shut that thing down!" you run up to him, trying to stop his recording you without a mask.

"Hey hey, stop it" he chuckles as you wrestle him. He is unmovable, but you're not a quitter.  

"Guys... where's Ember and Medea?" Charge asks.

"Oh shit" Anathema and you say simultaneously

"THey've banished." he continues

"Well... I'm too tired to chase them. I got tased by Void earlier..." you say

"Same. He tased me too!" Anathema says while showing you he's deleting the recording to stop you from trying to snatch his phone. "Ok, ok, stop it"

"And I got burnt" Charge sighs. "We'll have to get them next time guys."

"Next time?" you ask

"Yeah" He smiles "Even if you are some sort of anti-social gremlin, It was good working with you ... Sidestep." So you're not the *kid* anymore. Good thing he learned.

"It was a blast! And you disarmed those things! Both of them! You're just awesome!" Anathema shakes your hand energetically.

Now you feel awkward... not used to compliments. Doing your job is just normal... It's what's expected of you.

"Hey, do you want to join us for dinner? On the ranger's tab," he asks.

"Ehrm... for real?"

"Yeah for real"

"Maybe some other time," you say excusing yourself... Free food is tempting, but you can see the police lights approaching and you don't want to be here much longer.

"Oh I get it... you don't like to stay for the paperwork" he grins "Well the invitation stands... One question before you go... Are you going to keep it up, the crime-fighting I mean... or was this a one-time thing? I could give you some tips and training if you want and..."

"In your dreams sparkles!" you shoot him down... you're not going to be anyone's sidekick ever again... that didn't end well last time. But then you realize that might have been a bit harsh.. you open your mouth again. "I prefer working alone... But It wasn't... you know, it wasn't all bad working with you either.. maybe we'll meet again Charge."    

"Hey what’s wrong with the sparkles? Everyone loves them!” he grins “...  allright, see you around, take care!" he offers you his hand... and you shake it.

And then you leave, putting on your hood and covering your head with your bandana. You wave at Anathema, who's talking to the police on your way out.

-----------------a few blocks later-----------------

Time to head back to the hotel...

This was... odd. Not really all bad…?

You came in for revenge... and got something completely different.

Maybe you can keep doing this? Use your powers for the purpose you were made? Protect the people? It's what you always wanted... the only thing you wished to do while you were training at the farm. Be a real protector?

It doesn't sound bad... not bad at all.

You'll have to find a place to stay... that hotel isn't a really appropriate crime fighting base of operations...

With your powers, it shouldn't be hard to steal back some money from con-men and other criminals.

And The Void is loose... You'll have to deal with Nathaniel eventually. He knows your secrets, as you do his. He didn't switch the bombs sequences... does that mean he didn't really intend to kill you? He did say he would meet you again you now recall... that should mean something? Did he knew you would disarm them...?

Your mind tells you it's impossible to know for sure... You just want to believe he didn't want you dead... Maybe he still sees you as a sort of friend, in his own twisted way? And if he does... what in the hell does it mean for you?

You are so confused...

And then there's Anathema and Charge...

Anathema seems friendly enough. You won't mind working with him in the future...

And the Marshall... He came around... you earned his respect, and he earned yours in the end...

But why do you keep thinking about his arms around you...? And why do you enjoy arguing with him so much? You're not generally so confrontational with anyone else. Is it because you can't read his mind?

Yes...

Definitely must have something to do with it.

In any case, it's a mystery for another time.

______________________________________

My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[goodmusicbadreview]

‘Father of the Bride’ by Vampire Weekend | Every artistic struggle with the perils of modern society should be this cuddly...

My favourite aesthetic in music right now is nice New York boys struggling with religious identity, whether it’s Chris Thile or Sufjan Stevens grappling with their Christianity in unexpected ways, or Gabriel Kahane’s pondering on the place of Jewish identity in modern American society.

Ezra Koenig does that too! As far as I’m concerned the guy who is so often maligned for his ‘preppy’ whiteness, is fucking royalty when it comes to contemporary Jewish American popular music.

(Also, can we talk about how insanely talented his kid’s gonna be?!?!?! This kid’s dad is Ezra Koenig, their mum is Rashida Jones, and their grandad is Quincy Fucking Jones!!!!! 20 years down the line the Koenig-Jones sprog is going to be the biggest musician/movie star on the planet - mark my words).

It might seem, given that Vampire Weekend is nominally a band rather than just one guy, somewhat unfair of me to focus purely on Koenig just because I identify with his exploration of contemporary Jewish identity, but there are reasons behind the lack of new music from the band in the last six years that I think justify my point of view. Rostam Batmanglij, Koenig’s former writing partner and founding member of the band, made the decision to depart from the group to focus on his solo career (smartly signing with Nonesuch Records whose musical jurisdiction is right up his alley). So, for the first time since the band’s debut, Koenig has taken on the majority of the writing process by himself which gives Father of the Bride, their new album, a much more auteurish feel. This record is Koenig’s baby and it shows.

It’s hard to articulate precisely why I love this record so much, but I’ll give it a shot. I’ve never gone especially hard for Vampire Weekend (although I certainly will now, particularly having gone back and re-listened to their previous trilogy of records), but aside from their exquisite instrumental work, I think there’s something to be said for the analytical way in which the group - Koenig in particular - looks at the world around them.

There’s a quiet authority to Koenig’s uncertain, questioning approach contemporary society and his place in it. In ‘Harmony Hall’, the record’s lead single, he makes the record’s thesis statement:

I thought that I was free from all that questionin' But every time a problem ends, another one begins

There was a self-assuredness to pretty much all of the band’s previous work, and that confidence is still present on Father of the Bride, but it lies less in the idea that Koenig knows everything he needs to know, and more in the acceptance that there will always be questions that he can’t immediately answer. 

All the songs on this record grapple with important questions, and a lot of them have to do with identity. As previously stated, the ones that stuck with me the most were the ones that reckoned with contemporary Jewish identity. ‘Jerusalem, New York, Berlin’ is a particularly interesting example. Much of the discourse around Jewish identity has for some time, for better or worse, been inextricably linked to Israel. My incredibly smart friend Georgie has been raving about ‘Jerusalem, New York, Berlin’ since the record released because it “perfectly encapsulates the simultaneous joy and disappointment diaspora Jews feel towards Israel and its unfulfilled potential”. Koenig’s representation of his own relationship with Israel is, again, one of uncertainty. He’s conflicted about his feelings on the matter, a place of cognitive dissonance that many diaspora Jews find themselves. For many of us, this is the only coherent response we have to the discourse around Israel and Zionism, which makes it even more distressing when we are asked to contribute to the debate.

Other songs, like ‘Harmony Hall’ deal with the ugly elements of discourse in contemporary America, a place that despite its image as a melting pot of cultures, forces people to reckon with the worst stereotypes that have been thrown at their communities. In the song, Koenig directly refers to the resurgence of antisemitism in the US in the last few years. ‘Sympathy’ on the other hand, deals with the role of some particularly vile ambassadors of American Jewry (a not-so-subtle subtweet at the embarrassingly gross Ben Shapiro) as complicit in the oppression of others. The song seems to reflect Koenig's incredulity towards the idea that some American Jews feel more kinship to a majority group that has historically antagonised and oppressed Jews, than to a minority group that deals with many of the same struggles.

Judeo-Christianity, I'd never heard the words Enemies for centuries, until there was a third

The major element of this record that has, thus far, gone unexplored, is the incredible instrumental work. Father of the Bride takes a much livelier, varied, and intricate approach to instrumental accompaniment than the records that preceded it. Tracks like ‘Harmony Hall’ and ‘Sunflower’ feature spider-like guitar riffs and baroque piano lines. ‘Hold You Now’ is built from a country-esque, finger-picked acoustic guitar chord sequence, pedal steel embellishments, and a gorgeous choral sample from Hans Zimmer’s score for The Thin Red Line. ‘Big Blue’ and ‘2021’ are ponderous tracks laden with gorgeous synths. The most traditionally Vampire Weekend track is ‘Bambina’ which mixes repetitive guitar and bass lines with dense percussion and swelling synth interjections. The vocal contributions from Danielle Haim (also Jewish!) are particularly revelatory. Her presence generates a conversational feeling, providing a necessary reprieve from some of Koenig’s weightier ponderings.

Koenig’s very specific approach to uncertainty is the connective tissue that brings all of Father of the Bride’s disparate elements together. The record is 18 tracks long, but it doesn’t feel overstuffed or unfocused because of its incredibly strong thematic coherence. Most impressively, the weighty issues tackled by the band and the uncompromising sense of fun through which they are presented never feel at odds. Koenig and co. have managed to make uncomfortable conversations palatable without diluting them in the slightest.

[beinglibertarian]

The Socialist Disconnect

Today’s socialist displays a complete disconnect between desires and the reality of what it takes to create those desires.

This should likely be common knowledge to me by this point in time, but I never experienced personally until I started to frequent a Facebook page called “Capitalism Kills”.

It was only after spending a few weeks observing popular complaints by leftists (most on the page are avowed Marxists) that the point really sunk in. Most of the people on this page had no idea what it takes to bring something into being/ A house, car, electronic device, internet, electricity, food. The theory many of them claim is that with all these things there is more than enough available for each person to have one (house, car, etc.) and it is the fault of capitalism and greed that everyone does not have one already.

It seems they live in a world where products arrive on shelves already made, and food appears out of thin air.

They love the iPad and (for example) and want everyone to have one, or as many as they need, but they seem to hate, or be completely unaware of, the process that brought it into being.

While they love the shiny new device they seem to strongly oppose at every junction the very things it takes to create it, a sort of strange cognitive dissonance or maybe just a lack of desire to understand.

They ignore the fact that it was mining, the dirty task of digging up the earth to extract her treasures, which brought up the silver, gold, palladium and steel required to build the circuitry.

After that it was the oil, steel, and rubber of the trucks and ships that brought the raw materials to the smoke belching refineries; from there, more transportation to the factories where men and machine forged those raw goods into circuitry.

Through all this process people must be paid, taxes gathered, resources used, and only after all that do we finally have the finished product; which must still be marketed and sold, supporting people in offices, media outlets, and even supporting the freelance podcaster or YouTube reviewer.

Just so you could buy that iPad.

It seems, however, that this is not understood; as simple as it should be to accept.

A common response to anyone pointing out the amount of work required to bring something to market is that machines will eventually replace all of these people. But, until all these tasks can be automated and done by machine (and even then, who will maintain the machines or maintain the power plants that power the factories in which these machines work to create what we want?) we will need people all along this creative trail. We need the ugly factories, mines and refineries, because without them these shiny goods wouldn’t exist.

In this group a regularly occurring theme is the removal of money as a medium of exchange and everything being free while people simply pursue their passion or interest and we just trade and share. I won’t get into scarcity and supply and demand (since we all know those basic principles), but according to this group, those principles are imaginary, and don’t actually exist.

I had a conversation recently in this group where, aside from expressing their absolute hatred of landlords, they discussed why housing should be free for all people.

Could this be possible?

Let me say this. I would love to be able to have the house of my dreams without having to pay for it. I’d love a cabin in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, with a view overlooking the valley but only minutes from town so it’s not inconvenient for me to make trips to the grocery store (who would work as a grocer if money didn’t exist and everything was free, I don’t know. I sure wouldn’t, but maybe there is someone who sees that as their passion, so let’s assume that’s the case).

Now, the question becomes (and I’m genuinely looking for the answer) who will build my cabin? (Let’s ignore my car, or the trucks and cranes it takes to erect the structure, the raw materials and forging of hammer and nails, the lumber and sawmills that turn it into useable material). I certainly cannot build it. I am lucky I know a handful of people who can, but would they spend months or years of their time building me a home for nothing? How about all the thousands (dare I say millions or billions worldwide) of others who would want the same as me?

I mean, if it’s free (and we assume that no one will be greedy and want two homes, or the best views for themselves) you can guarantee that everyone will want the best home. In a world where all houses and apartments are equal in value, who is going to stay in a rundown neighborhood?

If it’s free, why not have all free modern houses on large lots, with all the modern amenities, million-dollar homes for everyone?

For the sake of simplicity let’s ignore the idea that billions of people would only want top of the line furniture, appliances, electronics, automated systems, etc. And we will ignore how the innovation came about to make those top of the line items. We will also ignore the amount of raw materials, mining, and refining that would be needed for each family to have these items as well as why on Earth anyone would do those jobs of mining and refining when they could be an artist or video game player and have all the same benefits in home, car, and luxuries of life. Why would I show up for work if I worked in a dirty mine where I know I’m putting my health on the line? I wouldn’t even if you paid me, but thankfully there are some people who would.

But for now, let’s ignore those realities.

Let’s just say you would mandate by law that everyone must put in a certain amount of hours per week in their certain trade. Thus, production continues as it would today. Why would the upcoming generation pick oil work in the frozen tundra of Northern Canada or the insanely remote and scorched regions of the Middle East? Why do that when you could opt instead to be a dog walker and still live in millionaire luxury? We would likely see a much greater skills shortage than we already see today.

See, I wish it were possible, I really do. I wish socialism was the opportunity for promised utopia they claim it is and that all those dreams would come true.

I wish I could do my degree for free (though the supply of certain desirable degrees would absolutely overwhelm the need for people skilled in those fields) and live in the luxury enjoyed by the 100-hour work week entrepreneurs, or investment bankers and stock brokers.

To be honest, who isn’t even a little jealous of those few people like Dan Bilzerian, or Kim Kardashian who seem to enjoy immense riches while barely having to do any kind of work?

I wish we could have a world where there was no reason to pursue monetary gain, where we could have a lavish lifestyle and all that we want and need while working only on the things we want to, but unless someone can come up with some ingenious way to ensure we can provide even more, resource wise, without needing people to do dirty work that they don’t like, it’s just another nice daydream.

I still don’t know who would consider spending weeks away from family in the far flung frozen north to extract oil to be their “passion.” Or who would work cabling a new building for internet service because that’s just what they’ve always dreamed of. Who would take customer complaints at the electric or phone company? Those are roles that deserve higher reward if you ask me. There is nothing wrong with those noble professions, but they are far from the likely more glamorous roles many of us would choose to play without the necessity being present.

Human nature is still now, as it always has been, something that must be contended with. What allows the creation of million-dollar homes, top of the line appliances, more than adequate food supply, electronics, and wonders of electricity and Internet showing up at our doorsteps is the massive incentive for people to risk capital (both as investors and as entrepreneurs) in creating the infrastructure, the businesses, and for others to work in remote or undesirable roles to bring these luxuries to us.

If you can devise a system that takes all this into account and can still provide all of what we each desire in life, without losing the drive and innovation that the struggle and competition tend to bring about, please let me know I’ll be the first to support you.

Our systems are far from perfect, and I believe change is possible, especially a mental shift to balance between a pragmatically capitalist mindset and a kinder people centered mindset in both work and life overall, but when dreaming up a brave new world, we must be sure that we at least begin with a thorough understanding of the realities of the current one.

The post The Socialist Disconnect appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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[dangerousdragonflies]

The Harmoninomicon

Book 1 : WATER

Chapter I Cognitive Dissonance

 Part I

The entire world shook, the sky was red. A mighty wash of roiling water struck the boat. Several people were attempting to swim back to the log raft, a second and third raft was just barely visible through the chaos. A man bellowed calling out to the ocean, the words were lost beneath the waves. A wall of water that touched the sky came roaring overhead. Hold on everyone! The man yelled. The massive glowing object in the sky loomed over like a promise, two of the boats had now gone under the waves. No! You can’t! The man screamed at the ocean. Something glowing and red like a wall of liquid fire was bubbling up through the waves, the sound was hideous like a red hot sword slowly cutting though butter. The last of the log rafts splintered apart when the wall of water and the glowing bubbling horror met. A figure woke with a scream, are you ok Hun? A woman said in the dark. It was just a bad dream, go back to sleep I’ll be fine.

 We have an old saying on the island, If the island does not like you it will spit you out. What does that even mean exactly Jules questioned? Well you know its probably all the movies I’ve been watching and I haven’t been getting enough sleep, it just seems like the universe doesn’t want me to feel rested. Well maybe you should try something a little more esoteric man, like a Ouija board (it was pronounced Wee Gee Board) or tarot cards! Jules had his thumbs up in the air like some sort of 80’s car dealership commercial. Dude I had a weird dream and that’s it, there’s no such thing as ghosts or demons and don’t get me started on the whole heaven or hell thing that makes less sense than those flat earth guys. Come on Will we don’t just rot in the ground and that’s it once we die man there’s so much we don’t know but we are proving a lot of the occult things are real! Real? How can we prove anything about that, you said it best yourself we don’t know and there is more evidence that leads us to think this is it. But Science is proving it and Science is fact! No Jules Science is fiction, you are living in a fantasy land and I am sorry to be the one to tell you Santa Clause isn’t real, its time to wake up and see the world for what it is. With a heavy sigh Jules punched will in the shoulder. Fine, I see there’s little I can say to convince you Will. I have to get back to work here in a few minutes I really think you should look in to these things and see if it helps any. I know you don’t believe in any of that but whats the worse that could happen, I’ll send you some links. Laughing and with a smile “Sure, try to have a good day dude ill text you later”.  

The Rain poured like a blanket drenching the land to the bones. Thunder crackled and off in the distance a bright flash of light lit up by its after effects on the human vision. Something in the shape of a Dog was cowering and shaking, trying to hide under the two people. Margret I told you it was just a dream, I am ok! No you aren’t you’ve been up the last week having these nightmares and now im worried for you, Honey if you aren’t sleeping neither am I, You are to heavy to sit there Cassie; The Dog was trying to sit on the woman’s lap. Doctor Sanchez said one session with him and we will be able to tell whats going on with these dreams. Wills Sigh was exasperated, Ok if it means this much to you then ill go do this thing, Jules was trying to convince me to use; and I will use his words “A WEE GEE board” they both laughed. Well his heart is in the right place Will maybe a Ouija board isn’t what we need but I have some old tarot cards, How about we break them out? They guided my life pretty well until we met honey. I don’t know Margret I don’t think those cards will help me. William Edwards! I am sorry you had a few bad experiences with this sort of thing but im only trying to help. Where are those cards at? I think I have them upstairs in one of the closets. Ill go grab ‘em, the Dog nearly tripping the woman as she went up the stairs made a yipe, Fuh! Damn it dog! Go to daddy!

  Sit right there, Margret pointed at the carpet right outside the closet. Right here? Will said grinning. Yes right here! Come on Love lets see what the Spirits have to tell you!! As the rain came down like great buckets from the gods the couple sat pouring over the cards. What do the spirits say for Gemini? The words echoed off the walls. Both people yelled at the same time, Cassie! The dog had walked over the cards laid out on the ground. Picking up one card Will handed it to the young woman sitting across from him. It’s backwards, what does this card mean? Oh Hun, The four of cups in reverse reminds us to see all the good things being offered to us in the present. Thinking too far ahead, or dwelling on things long past can rob you of the now. What are you dwelling on love? Is everything alright? I don’t know Margret, I’ve been stressed due to lack of sleep but I don’t think there’s anything I’m dwelling on I mean I can’t think of anything I might be stuck on.

 Alright Mr. Edwards this is a safe place where no judgement happens just make yourself at home and try to relax. Honestly Doc I’m not sure about all this. Will looked around the room, I don’t know if this is the right thing for my insomnia plus I don’t think i can be hypnotized I mean I have a hard time even convincing myself to go to work some days. The clock was ticking so loud Will thought he would go insane if he had to sit here for too much longer. You would be surprised as to how many of my clients say similar statements, Mr. Edwards I assure you my practice is proven and sound. You are in good hands. Now one of our policies is we collect some information from our clients do you mind if I ask you a few questions pertaining to your physical and mental health? I guess, what kind of questions are we talking about? Our first question is would you say you’re a generally happy man? Happy? Y-yes I suppose, I have a great job a wonderful wife and a Pit-bull. My life has never been better, what does this have to do with my dreams Doc? My list has specially been designed to help for this circumstance Mr. Edwards I assure you, Alright Question two. Do you have any history with psychotropic drugs? Would a Antidepressant count as psychotropic? In most cases yes, don’t worry we don’t report any findings to any authority. Question three. How often would you say you brush your teeth? Will looked puzzled, Excuse me? Please Mr. Edwards these questions are important, Answer them as best you can. Alright I brush before bed every day. An eye brow raised a little bit, Doctor Sanchez adjusted himself in his seat. And how much Fluoride would you say you and your wife…? I assume, are in taking daily? The Doctor peered over his clipboard waiting for a reply. Margret’s allergic to fluoride so we found a place with a well and as for our teeth we use fluoride free toothpaste. The Doctor straightened, I think I’m beginning to have an understanding of the situation Mr. Edwards. These are a sedative for those who have a harder time going under the pendulum so to speak. The Doctor was standing there smiling but to Will it wasn’t a friendly gesture. Um do you think we can do this without the medication first? I’m not a fan of taking pills to be honest. Please Mr. Edwards these are all natural sedatives, they wont fail you on a urine screening and also they are hypoallergenic, anyone can take them even children newly born. Grabbing the little paper cup with the pills in it Will looked at them. I guess its OK, will I be able to drive when I leave here? The Doctor handed Will a glass of water. Here you go please drink the entire glass of water Mr. Edwards and yes you will be fully clear headed and able to drive when you leave from here. Alright Doc Will said with a face as he swallowed the medication, when will this hit me? Just lay back Mr. Edwards you should be feeling the effects almost at once, can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up? As his vision began to blur Will started panicking, Doc whats going on? I-I cant move! At this time two other men entered the room, as the darkness enfolded around Will he heard the Doctor say tie him down.  

 Wake up. My son, Wake up! Class is about to start so wake up! What? Will sat up and looked around, what? Stop saying what young man and get to school! The woman demanded. Whats going on? Who are you? The woman's stance assumed that iconic stance that all woman get when patience is running thin. I am not playing games and neither are you! Get up! The woman yanked the bed covers from the young man. Hey! What are you…looking down Wills legs had tanned quite a lot since he remembered seeing them last and they were quite a bit smaller. What the!? A million thoughts raced through his head. Arawakan! Don’t make me get your older brother to grab you and drag you to class again and you know he cannot be bothered with this, he is going through Melody training today. Huh? What did you call me? Will was yanked from bed by what looked like a seven foot tall bronze god, help!! Oh there is no help for you today remarked the incredibly tall young man holding Will by the arm pits.

Arawakan your late, why don’t you give us the reason why? The man at the head of the class said with hands on his hips. Um…? I don’t think I should be here will stammered. The giant escorting Will pushed him so hard that he fell hitting his shoulder on the podium at the front of the class. I had to drag him down here out of bed because he thinks sleep is more important said the giant. Standing up Will looked around, why is all of this so familiar? Wills shoulder throbbed. Go sit down little Bro and learn something useful said the tall young man. Will walked down the aisles of seats and sat down, looking around his eyes met with a young man a few rows back. His face said a lot but it was as if he didn’t belong here either. The older man at the head of the class Boomed “We have an old saying on the island, if the island does not like you it will spit you out.” But? But? Exclaimed a girl near the back, then why are there so many people I don’t like!? By then the entire class had erupted into laughter and crude remarks. QUIET!!!! Bellowed Wabeno the teacher of the day and today the kids got the head of the fishing fleet. Alright class I suppose I could share the super-secret reason why Penutia seems to not like anyone. Wabeno says with a grin. Oh! Oh! A young man near the back of the class erupted, hand high in the air waving frantically. Its because she was out after curfew with Athabaskan doing naughty things!!! Please just once can you be serious? No class its because…. Both of you, eyes and ears up front! Penutia and another girl were whispering back and forth snickering. Watching this for as long as she could an older woman in the doorway chuckled to herself, stepping out of the warm noonday rain, Kids! Kids! She lowered her head and waves of thought hit the classroom as soundless as a small field mouse breaking wind and as powerful as a blue whale breaching, Wills head suddenly started to buzz. A presence filled his head and even though there were no words he felt a wash of calmness radiate over him. alright class please inform your parents and guardians there is a village gathering tonight and its wet outside so don’t forget your rain covers! Will was hit with a head ache so bad he almost fell out of his seat, Wills head swam with a flood of memories that weren’t his but felt like they fit. I must be going crazy! With a warm smile and open arms some of the girls ran over and embraced the woman. Alright children this is important, don’t forget about the gathering tonight, you are dismissed! The woman had almost yelled over the almost preteen crowds ramblings. Will was astounded. He remembered getting up this morning, this morning in his home with the Tv and his computer but now he also remembered going to bed last night in his home made from grass and bamboo, he had never been hunting in his life but now he remembered two days ago when him and his older brother successfully hunted down and caught and wild boar with their dads lucky bow. What the hell is going on he thought?

  Part 2

 When I woke up this morning I never would have thought I would be saying this, but I believe we have found him. And what makes you think this? The voice on the other end of the line asked. We have had an eye on this one for quite some time Sir, we have him in custody and right now we are doing several tests to verify this. Doctor Sanchez I am not sure you are aware of how important this is, there is a lot riding on this and you have no idea how much I have personally invested in you and your, The voice on the other end of the line cleared his throat. Methods and if you aren’t correct one hundred percent about this one the ceasing of your funding will be the least of your concerns. Do not let me detain you, the phone beeped marking the end of the call.  The man’s posture relaxed a little. Two men who were mumbling outside the door while he was on the phone knocked and came in the door, Sir we have a situation with subject number seven. As the three men rushed down the hallway the sounds of screaming and banging became louder and louder. Noooo!!! The voice of a young man bellowed. The banging intensified, I need 15 ccs of Benzodiazepine now! The two other men were in the process of tightening the tie downs that held the young man. The figure of a nurse came shuffling in from a side room, hold her down! No! No! No! The young man tried to flail, Nooo!!! He bellowed again but this time the voice rasped. The two men jammed a cloth gag in the young man’s mouth. There we are just breathe Daniel everything will be fine. The young man’s movements became sluggish and his eyes drooped. There we are see? Isn’t it easy to relax now? Get him hooked back up the Doctor demanded, why is the machine disconnected? Get this thing going and crack it to sixty five percent! Doctor he was going into cardiac arrest we had to disconnect him and administer an epinephrine injection, Doctor his nervous system can’t handle this level of stress. Breathe, just breathe. See isn’t it easy to relax now? The man’s voice echoed in Daniel’s head.

 A sound like a yak making its last noises before it died trumpeted right outside his window. Daniels eyes sprang open and he bolted upright. With eyes that were full of globs, he had guessed he had he had been drinking the night before and had a few bad dreams. What the fuck? A rather large pinkish courts crystal started to pulse when he looked at it. Am I still drunk? He said out loud. Holy shit! Looking around his eyes started focusing on objects in the room. He was really confused by this point, well whatever I did last night ill try to make it up to whoever lives here and I hope they will forgive me for using some of these clothes till I can find mine. A mirror made from what appeared to be like hammered and polished copper looked back at him, what did I drink last night?? He almost screamed. The face looking back at him was so young maybe twelve or so with a tan that almost matched the copper mirror, what the hell!! What is going on? The level of panic was at a whole new level and Daniel stopped cold. His head was starting to clear now. Walking over to the crystal he reached out and the pulsing intensified. The urge to touch the crystal was demanding him forward. The crystal flashed, the light was blinding. A second set of memories faded in to his thoughts. Sitting down on the bed he rested his head in his hands, his thoughts revolved around getting another drink or at least a drink if those weren’t dreams. It felt to Daniel like he was receiving a data download to his memories. I was born here he said to himself with tears in his eyes, this is my room. Well, I had better get to class I guess Daniel said with a grunt getting up. I miss pizza already.

[onisionhurtspeople]

hey!! just found this blog and saw you sayin some negative stuff about Lainey; I wanted to know if she was a bad person like Onion boy?? If you could link me to posts or something talking about whatever it is that she did i would appreciate it!!

Well, hmm. There’s a lot of controversy that surrounds Lainey, but it’s a little bit less straightforward than the controversy that surrounds Onision. In his case, he is being judged by his actions, the things he says and does in his videos, on Twitter, to other people (his fans and other content creators), and especially the things that he does in his personal life to his friends and romantic partners; but in her case, most of the drama that revolves around Lainey stems not from her actions, but from her lack of actions, and how conspicuously silent she is in the face of her husband’s negativity, bullying, harassment, belittling, insulting, and manipulation of others, especially of the teenage girls and minorities that she claims to stand up in defense of and care so much about. The general consensus is that although she is undeniably a victim too, she is also fundamentally complicit due to the fact that she never says or does anything to indicate that she does not support his actions, and many people get the impression from her behavior that as long as it’s not happening to her, then she doesn’t really care much - and I tend to agree with them. Just for one example: Lainey goes absolutely bonkers and gets super aggressive when people purposely or accidentally don’t refer to her as “they/them”, yet she says absolutely nothing when Greg puts out his 7th video “coming out” as transgender/biromantic/gynesexual/whatever gender or sexual orientation he’s pretending to be for views that week. They both claim to be advocates on behalf of feminism and the LGBTQ+ community, yet Onision continually mocks and even openly insults women and trans people, and Lainey says nothing. Unless it’s somebody else saying those things to her, at which point it becomes a problem and suddenly she’s going on self-righteous Twitter rants about transphobia and misogyny, and Greg is insulting them and telling them that they’re being a transphobic, misogynistic bigot for saying something that hurt Lainey’s feelings. (The lack of self-awareness is astounding to me, these people should be a case study for cognitive dissonance.) Lainey’s empathy seems to be very selective and is mostly reserved for herself or people that she can personally relate to. To my understanding, she also indulges in thinspo blogging, even while her husband continually harasses Eugenia Cooney and accuses her of influencing her fans to become anorexic - all the while, his own wife is reblogging photosets of anorexic women and adding pictures of herself to the thinspo tag on Tumblr.

Despite Lainey’s ~smol sensitive agender emo space prince~ persona, and aside from her positive traits (of which I genuinely believe there are many, which I have outlined in posts before), I tend to find that Lainey as an individual is an overly sensitive, self-absorbed, passive-aggressive, highly immature baby who lives in a bubble of perpetual self-victimhood. And in no way is this meant to minimize or undermine the deleterious effect that I’m sure Onision has had on her self-esteem, her confidence, her personal growth, and her very identity, but I also think that Lainey sees herself as a helpless victim who is at the mercy of a cruel, sadistic, and unkind world, largely because there is a not insignificant part of her that actually enjoys victimizing herself. There is a part of her that genuinely gets something out of being a suffering victim - I think it’s actually a part of her identity at this point, and she wouldn’t know what kind of person she was or how to see herself if she wasn’t constantly in pain for one reason or another. (My boyfriend is one of these people too, and it’s maddening. He goes through extended cycles of sabotaging himself and driving everybody he loves away from him, only to then hit the panic button and stew in the resultant depression, loneliness, and self-loathing that comes along with his actions. Because then not only does he get to suffer as a result, but he’s also then just given himself a legitimate reason to hate himself for hurting the people that he loves. It drives me insane. I see much of his behavior reflected in Lainey’s actions, and Greg has openly admitted that he actually likes that she’s so weak and incapable of defending herself, because it forces her to rely on him for “strength”, which makes him feel powerful and gives him total control over her. Ironically, this entire process actually makes people like Lainey more anxious and more depressed, as they slowly lose more and more control over their lives and their ability to cope with their own existence. I also think this toxic cycle is part of the reason why she’s so thin nowadays - she’s lost so much control over her life that she’s exercising her control in the only way that she’s allowed to: over her own body. But this is a different topic that I think deserves a post of its own, so I’ll discuss it another time.)

The other thing is that not only is Lainey passively complicit in Onision’s actions by refusing to speak out against him, but in many aspects, she is also actively complicit in his abuse too. One of most valid complaints that people have about Lainey is that she allows Greg to leverage her position as a bisexual woman in the LGBTQ+ community in order to queerbait other girls into a relationship with them under the guise of a polyamorous “trinity” in which all three of them are equal partners in the relationship. These girls are usually younger than Lainey and always younger than Greg (typically anywhere from 17 to 21), tend to be the kind of girls that are naive, sensitive, impressionable, and open-minded (just like Lainey is), are usually fans of Onision (and are often harvested directly from his fan base), and are almost always completely inexperienced when it comes to relationships, especially when it comes to the kind of constant and very specific care and attention that is required in order to maintain a healthy polyamorous relationship in which everybody feels happy, respected, taken care of, and an equal participant in the trinity. And so for this reason, many people view Lainey as just as much a predator as Greg himself is, and rightfully so. Greg literally uses Lainey as bait in order to draw in younger, pretty girls who are open to experimentation, in a way that seems less objectively creepy on the outside, because hey, that 17-year-old girl is actually dating Lainey, not him! That’s not creepy at all, there’s only a five-year age gap there. There’s not that much of a difference between 17 and 22, you know! Back in the day, it was totally normal to get married and have children by the age of 15, and besides, 17 is perfectly legal in her state and it’s not illegal and you’re just close-minded and oops now all three of us are dating (totally by accident, of course) and if you judge us then you’re just being an ignorant judgmental bigot. Lainey is only there to lend legitimacy to Greg’s predatory search for younger girls, because he knows that it would be perceived as creepy and inappropriate if he were to be actively recruiting 17-year-olds from his fanbase on his own. (And then he convinces Lainey that he’s doing it for her, so that she can experiment with her bisexuality - but she knows better at this point because she’s seen with her own eyes that he can’t be trusted around “her” girlfriends; she actually admitted last January that she knew Greg was only pushing her to date other girls because he would get something out of it too, and not because he actually wanted her to experiment. So she knows this, and still she goes along with it - because, like Greg, she gets something out of it too.) 

This post got waaay too long. Sorry, I’m high af. Anyway, there are a few other reasons why people criticize Lainey too, but I can’t remember them all and I’ve already written way too much on this topic, so instead allow me to direct you towards a few other resources that may have what you’re looking for. Here’s the Laineybot tag on the omeansion blog, and here is my Laineybot tag. I can’t promise you’ll find what you’re looking for on there, but you might get a better idea of the reasons why people hold Lainey culpable just as much as they do Greg. 

[theblacktivity-blog]

Keep Your 4th of July.

The 4th of July for most Americans is cognitive dissonance expressed at a peak commercial level. It is a time where some of us gather around grills in manicured backyards and harp on the “glory” of living in the “greatest nation on earth”. We sing “America The Beautiful” and tear up as “The Star Spangled Banner” blast over the ballpark loudspeakers as we wait for the crescendo “…and the rockets red glare” to applaud and scream into a frenzy. In expected fashion this is also a time when we look to the past with a degree of reverence for the nation’s founders and their infinite wisdom in crafting the essential documents that have since remained a cornerstone of this country’s supposed creed, The Declaration of Independence, The Federalist Papers, The U.S. Constitution, The Bill of Rights.  In some parts, this desire to bring the nation’s past to the fore borders on the comically insane as some citizens take it upon themselves to dress in full colonial era garb in peak summer weather to recreate for one day the events before, during, and after July 4th 1776. We gather around open fields at city parks, at airports, or watch from our porches and pillars (if you’re among those lucky enough to have either) and gaze in awe at the magnificence of the fireworks illuminating the nighttime sky. If you are more of a home body, the “Americaness” of “ ‘Merica” shall nevertheless escape you not, as everything from the M&M candy commercial, to the Budwiser beer ad, to the jingle for the wholesale furniture outlet down the street will make some allusion to “ ‘Merica” faster than you can say Yankee Doodle. Still words such as liberty, equality, justice, freedom, democracy, rights, and of course…patriotism, are used in excess all of which are a vain attempt to conceal from ourselves and the world that for many other’s the 4th of July doesn’t mean shit. That’s right, as a Black person (that is a person of African descent whose ancestors were the forced human engines upon which this nation was built to and for the advantage of white people) the 4th of July is a day off, nothing more, nothing less. It’s a time in which we are reminded in earnest that freedom actually isn’t free, and that the folks whom Ta-Nehesi Coates so eloquently described as “the dreamers” in his book “Between The World and Me” aren’t just merely delusional, they suffer from what could only be considered a psychosis. We are reminded that for more Americans than less, it is of such importance to protect the illusion of “exceptionalism”, that it has driven the majority white (for now) citizens into a state of endless vertigo, reinforced by at least 250 years of twisted (at best) and false narrative. We’ve known the chicanery in this supposed celebration of “freedom” ever since we where able to piece together this tomfoolery occurring in full view of the slave quarters and cotton patches, and none put it so eloquently as Frederick Douglass when he asked and answered:

“What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness; swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciations of tyrants, brass fronted impudence; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade, and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy—a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages.”

With this in mind, on this 4th of July we are reminded that for Black people while there have been some liberties in the nominal, Blacks are still considered 2nd class citizens whose lives matter not to the American “dreamers” and whose pleas for justice and human dignity continue to fall on deaf ears. Such has been the case since July 4th 1776, however July 4th 2017 is a time uniquely suited to the representation of this country’s grotesque shams of liberty, justice, and togetherness. It falls at a time when the nation is at its most openly polarized time (active word: openly) since the 1960’s. A time after the so-called post racial era of President Barack Obama in which white resentments, anxieties, jealousies, and nonchalance has swelled to such a degree as to render the house highly combustible. In the person of newly elected President Donald Trump whites see their psychic savior and at least a superficial return to American “normalcy” where white men rule with impunity, no matter their behavior. It’s a time when an administration such as Trump’s, swamped with more allusions to criminal activity than any presidency in recent history, is practically pored over and discussed by pundits to the point of xerostomia , though it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that if the previous administration of former President Barack Obama had been faced with a tenth of these allegations, they would be under Guantanamo Bay right now. As if this isn’t enough, we also have a president and cabinet who has made it quite clear that the issues of African Americans are so out of the discourse for them, that they don’t feel the need to be informed on Black history (see Trump and Press Secretary Sean Spicer’s discombobulated rant about Frederick Douglass existing with us in the present tense), not to mention the appointment of Attorney General (and former Alabama Senator) Jeff Sessions to chief cop despite his (or because of) his sordid civil rights record. These occurrences and a laundry list more doesn't bode well for the Black situation on the ground. As the Black bodies pile up from police executions, said police officers are walking off scot-free, and from the looks of it, there seems to be some consensus among many in law enforcement that “hunting” season is back in session, Bull Connor style. Meanwhile, urban areas densely populated with Blacks suffer from a mixture of poverty, gentrification, and crime, the former, next, and latter of which has time and again been proven to be the result of racist economic and housing policies. Yet, the narrative is that there is something “inherently wrong” with such communities and while there seems to be no shortage of town halls and special reports on the subject, in the most prosperous nation on earth, we still haven’t gotten to any solutions and in many cases moderators and politicians resign it to being “a complex issue”.  We Black people in America have this to think about as the 4th of July rolls around.  It will be said, as it is has been in Independence Day’s past that “we need to get over it”, that “Black people have come a long way”, that “we are being unreasonable”. There will then be attempts by the “dreamers” to disregard America’s utter hypocrisy via our television screens flooded with “people from all races” championing their love for country. Meanwhile those of us willing to confront the illusion, will largely go on about this day no doubt appreciative of the family gatherings, the time off of a stressful job, and the cookouts, nevertheless as for the country and its celebrations, we’ll feel nothing. For African Americans this July 4th will be but another piercing reminder of how those suburban manicured lawns so storied in American lore came to be (redlining, restrictive covenants, and mortgage discrimination). It will be yet another reminder of whose freedom was really achieved that day in 1776 (white people). It will be yet another reminder of the second Revolutionary War, the Civil War and the grounds on which it was fought (primarily the maintenance of the slave state in the South and the North’s jealousy of it). It will be a reminder of the broken promises of The Reconstruction (still being fought til this day). It will bring to pass the images of old Jim Crow lynching and new Jim Crow jailing and police killings. It will remind us of the litany of names that have been martyred throughout the struggle for real freedom, and those symbols missing justice who weren’t born to be symbols but died becoming such. More than anything though, for Black people, the 4th of July will mean nothing.  

[brujis]

Authority

We use the word “authority” to mean lots of things — police and state actors are “the authorities”, an expert may be “an authority on the matter, etc. But I want to suggest that it is very useful to think of authority as a characteristic of information in a social context. In particular, information is “authoritative” when some community of people to coordinate upon it and behave as if it were true, regardless of whether or not the information is in fact true, or even of whether the individuals doing the behaving personally believe it to be true. If information is authoritative, members of the community behave as if the information is true even despite strong, often opposing interests in the question. When we claim that someone “is an authority”, we are claiming that the information they produce will (or should) alter behavior within some human community. Authority subsists in the relationship between information and behavior in a social context.

Let’s take an example. A judge, in the context of a trial, is an authority. Suppose a judge pronounces a defendant guilty, despite her protestations of innocence. Both parties have produced information. But it is the information produced by the judge that guides the behavior of the vast preponderance of the community. Suppose the bailiff, who was present for the trial, privately came to a different conclusion than the judge, and believes that the defendant is in fact innocent. The bailiff will nevertheless behave as if she were guilty, taking her back into custody rather than setting her free.

More often than not, there is not so much cognitive dissonance. Most of us, most of the time, take a huge variety of conjectural “social facts” as given, condition our behavior as if they were true, and to the degree that we even give them a second thought, we believe them to be true. I log into my bank’s website, and check the balance of my account. Most of the time, I take the number presented as an authoritative representation of how much money I have “there”. I would prefer, quite strongly, that the number be millions larger, and my deposit balance at a bank is nothing more or less than what the bank acknowledges that it owes to me, so it is in a small way extraordinary that the bank and I are so willing to agree, despite diametrically opposed economic interests on the matter. But the miracle of authority is that it quells many disputes so thoroughly that parties don’t even imagine that there is any ambiguity or question to argue about. Authoritative information presents itself as factual, even when it (like a bank balance) has no external, empirical referent and is purely a social construction.

As surely as we depend upon the laws of physics to suspend us in our fifth floor apartments, we depend upon authority to give structure to our social and economic lives. Our very identities — our names, our credentials, the entity to whom our properties belong — exist as “social fact” by virtue of authority. The production of authority is the production of the social reality upon which we all coordinate. We talk sometimes about “defying authority”, by which we mean resisting some particularly crude and visible attempts to render information authoritative. But for the most part, to fail to coordinate on the “same facts” our community has settled upon comes off not as courageous but as insane. As Ijeoma Oluo writes:

A lot of things in our society are social constructs — money, for example — but the impact they have on our lives, and the rules by which they operate, are very real. I cannot undo the evils of capitalism simply by pretending to be a millionaire.

It’s hard to defy the authority of your bank account, even though the value that ends up there is the result of myriad social and institutional contingencies and is in a certain sense quite arbitrary. Of course we can, and under some circumstances we do, claim our bank balances are wrong. But whatever we believe the “true” figure should be is irrelevant as a practical matter unless and until an authoritative source (in this case, the bank itself) produces it. As individuals, we can dissent, but what makes information authoritative is how a larger community treats it, which often renders our own private judgements immaterial.

If authority is defined by information that a human community behaves “as if” is true, one might conjecture some relationship between processes that produce authoritative information and practices that might be colorably argued to be truth-generating. In most societies, a judge pronounces guilt, rightly or wrongly, after some kind of trial in which evidence is gathered and presented and the facts of the case are argued. In some societies, we might imagine the truth-generating power of legal procedure to be pretty good. In other societies not-so-much and we might mumble dismissively about “show trials”. As an anthropological matter, it’s clear that having some sort of narrative that connects the information we coordinate upon as “true” to processes that might mean they actually are true is helpful to the production of authority. Let’s call this “soft power”. On the other hand, if there are people with economic resources they can withhold to starve you, or with the physical capacity to harm and imprison you, they can, um, persuade the collective you to behave as if the information they produce is true. Let’s call this “hard power”. In nearly all societies, authority is generated by a combination of hard and soft power. We have a dispute. Is this house your house or my house? I can show you the deed to the property, evidence of a transfer of funds for its purchase, all of those things. But perhaps you can do the same. Our economic interests are opposed, and our standards of evidence are unlikely to be neutral. If we bring our dispute to the attention of the broader community, is it hard power or soft power that wins the day? Who knows? In most societies hard power is usually deployed under a fig leaf of soft power (the police evict me or they evict you following a trial with evidence and all of that). But sometimes this fig-leaf is so thin as to be meaningless. Even under procedures we consider decent, the ultimate “truth of the matter” will very often remain uncertain and contestable after all of the formalities have been deployed. A verdict will nevertheless be pronounced, and we will collectively behave as if the unknowable truth is known. Sure, that’s true in part because we believe hard power might eventually be deployed against those who defy the decision. But then, if the procedures were truly decent, you can argue that it is those who manage the institutions of soft power that determine the direction of the gun. And in practice, it’s rare for any overt hint of the exercise of hard power to be required to persuade most of use to behave as if some set of social facts is true.

It is a mistake — an easy, common, and foolish mistake — to imagine that hard power tells the whole story, that “how many divisions does he have?” is the beginning and end of the question of authority. The exercise of hard power is expensive. Even from the perspective of a “rational bandit” (ht Elaine Ou) whose ultimate source of legitimacy is the barrel of the gun, producing information about the world that causes people to behave in the ways you would like them to behave is cheaper and more efficient than frog-marching everybody everywhere all of the time. You’ll have more firepower available to defend your domain and plunder new lands if you can point your guns outward and your subjects still do what you want, then if you have to be pointing your guns inward at everyone. The law of the jungle selects for “voluntary compliance”. Further, relying upon the exercise of hard power butts up against the same informational limits that give rise to the economic calculation problem. No leader or ruling junta can even figure out what even they want the millions of people they rule to be doing all the time, let alone stand behind them with a gun and make them do it. [1] It’s much better if you can shape social reality so that people behave in roughly the way you’d like them to behave without your even having to tell them specifically what to do all the time, let alone point your scarce guns at them.

Communities want authoritative information on which they can coordinate. All sorts of valuable forms of collaboration are practical only when we are not bickering over every contingent and contestable social fact. Even flawed authority is better than no authority, and authority has network effects (the more people act as if some set of information is true, the more costly it is for others not to also act as if it were true). Nevertheless people dislike the cognitive dissonance associated with acting “as if” certain facts are true when they privately believe them to be false. We denote authority “Orwellian” when it is clumsy, when under threat of hard power or overwhelming convention it becomes in our interest to behave as if things we think false are true. Much more powerful (and so potentially dangerous) is authority that is not Orwellian at all, whose “soft power” is sufficiently persuasive that we privately believe nearly all of the social facts that we collectively coordinate upon. [2]

Authority, like most coordination problems, is relatively easy at small scale. We can choose a wise woman to judge and declare. However, the benefits of coordination grow nonlinearly with scale (“agglomeration effects”). Economic and military power accrue to polities that are able to produce authoritative information that coordinates behavior over large geographies and populations with minimal exercise of costly hard power. Modern, developed countries devote a significant fraction of their energies to the production of authority. Much of the work of the legal and accounting professions in the private sector, and of courts and the regulatory state in the public sector, is devoted to the production of authority. Finance, which concerns itself with contentious questions of who owns what and how scarce resources should be invested, is necessarily intertwined with the machinery of authority. The court system, the training and professional standards that apply to law and accountancy, the bureaucratic procedures that surround the operation of the regulatory state, all embody complicated sets of compromises between interests (which try to shape the social facts we coordinate upon for their own benefit) and the broader necessity of maintaining “credibility” and “legitimacy” so that recourse to hard power in shaping social behavior is rare. The production of “soft power” authority is the sine qua non of the modern state, and a source of competitive advantage for those who do it well.

The production of authority is a socio-technological problem, albeit a far-from-neutral technological problem (but technologies are never neutral). Although “soft power” authority is cheaper than resorting frequently to hard power to manage behavior, the systems by which we currently manage the production of authoritative information remain extraordinarily expensive — lawyers and judges and regulators and bankers don’t come cheap! Contemporary practices are also discriminatory. Most of the work of producing authority is done by a particular professional class, which is often socially and geographically segregated from the rest of the polity. Enfranchisement in the production of authority is skewed towards those within that class or capable of accessing (and paying) members of that class. This is problematic on technical grounds (those whose interests and perspectives are not included in the production of authority are more likely to privately dissent, diminishing the effectiveness of authority at coordinating behavior and increasing the degree to which hard power may be required), and on ethical grounds (the facts upon which we coordinate social behavior largely determine social outcomes, the determination of those facts is never neutral and always to a very large degree arbitrary).

The entropy of an individual human body is extraordinary large. It is a miracle, the degree to which even people we lock up as batshit crazy control and manage that entropy to yield elaborately functional behavior. The entropy of a human community or society is many of orders of magnitude larger, the space of potential social behavior is incomprehensibly vast and multidimensional. The behavior of so many bodies must be improbably constrained and synchronized to yield functional societies, which requires elaborate social coordination. Authority is an invisible drummer that helps to organize this dance. We construct authority. How we construct it is among the most important social, ethical, and technological problems we face.

[1] As with questions surrounding socialism and economic calculation, there is an case to be made that emerging information technology will render practical more pervasive and direct forms of state compulsion. So, um, exciting.

[2] When we are in it we are in it, but while we are thinking about authority from a distance, let’s remind ourselves that the absence of cognitive dissonance does not imply the presence of truth from some larger perspective. History is full of communities that produced authority effectively (in the sense that the “facts” that conditioned social behavior were widely privately believed), but which we now look back upon as having been egregiously in error, scientifically or morally. We might be “wrong” too. But authority is not about truth or falsehood in the eyes of God. It is about coordinating human behavior.

via interfluidity https://ift.tt/2KFgae8

[bridgetbites]

One Of My Worst Experiences at a Job

So, this one time, I was sent to a set with a client who had seen digitals of me at a 33 inch hip. Never mind that I was no longer that size, and never will be again. This whole situation was probably top three of my most awful experiences on set (the other two involve sexual assault). This was a client who liked their girls skinny, and I was not that. They had a false idea about what I looked like – something that could have easily been avoided.

Anyway.

It is hard to articulate just how awful the feeling is when you are on a set and everyone there hates the way you look. The reactions range from being sweet, yet condescending and pitiful, to just straight up bitchiness. They were all women on this set which makes the whole thing even more frustrating and messed up. After my experiences of body shaming whilst modeling (and this is one of many) I will never, EVER shame another woman on how she looks. Or man for that matter. But women have enough shit to put up with – we should be celebrating each other wherever we happen to be at.

Anyway. Back to my story.

Whilst shooting, I had one lady refuse to look me in the eye, choosing instead to address my stomach with a sneer (I was shooting swim). I addressed her, smiled, and she didn’t even look away from my stomach, let alone respond to me beyond mono syllables. Another lady asked me to please make my ribs show more whilst shooting, suck in my gut, and tied a sarong around my hips, to ‘hide them’. I got a high school level bitchy up and down when I came out of the changing room (every single one of my ten shots), and another woman just didn’t even register my presence. And they weren’t rude people aaaaalll the time – I got to watch them be very sweet to the other model (a sixteen year old with 34 inch hips). I wasn’t a 34 hip girl, but I fitted all the sample sizes (2-4), and had been feeling pretty good about my body and its new ‘curves’ up until this moment.

When it was lunch time, I was absolutely hating myself, wishing I was somebody else. So I chose not to eat. I was met with chorus’s of “why aren’t you eating! What’s wrong!?”. I sat there feeling humiliated, fat and ugly and got to watch everyone else on set (the other model included) tuck into a delicious lunch and cake. All that fake concern in their eyes over why I wasn’t eating lunch evaporated the second I got back on set. Then it was back to stonewall and scrutiny.

Looking back, I wish I’d had the strength to say to them, “what’s going on? Am I not what you wanted? Because if not, lets not put me and you through this. Just send me home. You don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here”. I wish I had done that instead of struggling through the day, to leave set and burst into tears. To be told by my agent that because they hadn’t said anything to my agency, there was nothing wrong. Got to love a little casual gas lighting – after 12 years of modeling, I know when something (me) isn’t working out.

It makes me enraged when a woman is made to feel fat at a size 4. What messed up parallel universe is this? The fashion industry should be celebrating women of all body sizes. We are experiencing a huge amount of growth in body acceptance – when will it start to make serious inroads in the fashion industry? I do have to acknowledge the appearance of plus size models in the higher end fashion industry. This is fantastic, and a welcome change. However there is a massive grey zone in the fashion industry. We see ‘straight size’ girls from sizes 0-2 maybe a 4 if the girl is well known or has boobs. Then nothing, until we hit ‘plus size’ girls at around size 14. Never mind the fact that the vast majority of women in the western world fall in this size bracket. Until a woman can open a magazine and see her body shape represented, how can women stop comparing themselves to an impossible standard?

At the end of the day, people should be able to look in the artistic world of fashion and see women with bodies similar to theirs. They should not be looking at hungry, tired teenagers who haven’t hit puberty yet. They should see strength and power and individuality. The ultimate form of control over women is when their bodies stop being their own. When other people dictate how they should look (thin, long legs, yet with an ass, tiny waist and back but with a six pack and boobs, plus big lips and defined cheekbones). My body did not belong to me from the ages of 14-25. When I finally started trying to reclaim it, I was so saddened by how much time and energy I had wasted trying to hit an ever moving target. When I finally got my period back regularly, I was amazed at all the emotion that came with it (a lot of it relief, a little of it insanity). When I got my brain power back, I was shocked at the study I was capable of, and the words that were easily written. It was so easy to string a sentence together and run for miles. These pleasures had been denied to me for my entire adult life. And for what really? Chasing some messed up idea of what a ‘real woman’ should be? There is no ‘real woman’. Just women. The idea of a ‘real woman’ is a lie; it is something to keep us distracted from pursuing our full potential. The time we spend training ourselves to extreme exhaustion and starving, is time and money wasted on self growth. I am sick to death of it.

So many women are denied this basic right of self possession. For the western world to proclaim itself free, it needs to set women’s bodies free. From hereon out we should be able to look however the fuck we feel is right, however we are strongest mentally, and however we so like to. If we gain or lose weight it is irrelevant. Anyone else’s opinion does not matter, and should cease to exist. I want societal expectations to evaporate. We should be celebrated for our accomplishments, and leave our bodies out of it. No more comments on who lost weight and how. I finally got the memo. Now I want more people out there to feel this liberation.

Things need to change in the world. And we need to start talking about it with more consistency and volume.

Today, make the effort to let go of your body hang ups. It will take time, but let yourself find what is right for you. No more trying to fit some one else’s fucked up mold. Destroy it and take up your own space in the world.

To the ladies on set that day, I say I hope you find your peace here. I don’t know how hard it must be to exist in a world where you treat another young woman as badly as you treated me. You must be in so much pain. The pain must be strong enough to make you look at a twenty something young woman, who is fit and healthy, and set out to make her feel fat and useless. It truly must be awful to exist in a state of constant cognitive dissonance.

I hope you find your peace. And I thank you. You helped to set me on the road to mine.

These are my stories. And I dictate my road.

 Peace and love,

Bridget