Brain: Tell her you’re reading about how female bonobo monkeys will form gangs to attack aggressive males and then have an orgy together.
Me: I can’t say that.
Brain: Tell her how bonobos have nuanced rituals establishing consent, and that males who overstep boundaries may find themselves set upon by an organized gang of vigilante lesbian monkeys.
Me: No.
Brain: We share 99.6% of our DNA with animals that use orgies for basically all forms of social organization, and they also have lesbian justice squads.
This was 1976. Big Bird understood and was wholly accepting and empathetic toward Buffy breastfeeding in public, and Big Bird is meant to be the equivalent of a preschool aged child, but every single day on social media, adults exclaim disgust toward breastfeeding in public and misogyny at the parents who do so. People, you’re less evolved than
Big Bird was 38 years ago. Grow the hell up.
holy shit. I had NO idea Sesame Street covered this topic.
And Buffy was Native American. And she breastfed. In front of muppets and children. No one died.
a family doesn’t have to be a man and a woman. a family can be a wizard, his apprentice, the fire demon who ate his heart, his cleaning lady who’s under a curse and in love with him, a senile witch who used to be his greatest enemy, a dog which belongs to his ex teacher and also enemy, a random cursed prince along for the ride, and their walking magic house
“It took me many years to learn the most important distinguishing factor when trying to decide what criticism to take on board, once you’ve filtered and blocked for bots and fascists. It’s not about tone, and it’s not, for fuck’s sake, about Twitter. It’s about pleasure. Is somebody actively enjoying making you feel like shit? Is driving conscientious people to mental breakdown a really good time for them? Are they getting off on your pain? There’s a word for that, and it’s not “ally.” I understand that bullying can feel pretty damn good, especially if you don’t call it that. I understand that playing the game of trashing feels comfortable and comprehensible, even righteous, when so little else does. But I’ve read all the theory and staggered through all the flame wars and I’ve come to the conclusion that when you get down to it, people who enjoy hurting other people are not worth your time or mine. “
guys this is a very good read, it even touches on how purity culture ruins progressive movements and it was absolutely a problem before tumblr
Whoever you ask, it’s always someone else doing the real harassment — it’s those men over there who are violent and sexist, whereas our way of dealing with difficult women is reasonable and fair. It’s legitimate critique. They have overstepped and they owe us an answer, an apology. We are definitely not attacking her — or her, or her — because she is a woman with power and that makes us uncomfortable. No. That’s something those guys over there do.
– A literary analysis claiming that Jekyll was gay and strongly insinuating that Hyde was his drag persona
- 500 words on how Despacito has changed the American music industry (in Spanish)
- Literally didn’t even write an essay just turned in a picture of that scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where the cartoon angels are playing the trumpet w their asses
– We were supposed to make a ‘diary’ from the pov of a character in Romeo and Juliet. I chose to write as a gay servant who was hopelessly in love w Romeo and plotting to murder Juliet. It’s entirely handwritten w my left hand and stg every single word is spelled wrong. One page just says ‘today I saw a geese’. There are no fewer than 6 thinly veiled sexual innuendos.
Sorry to be the person to add unsolicited personal stories to posts, but I do very similar things with essays that I’m quite proud of and wanted to share, so here are a few of mine in chronological order:
– the assignment (freshman year) was to write an instructional essay about a mathematical concept we had used that year, “preferably the quadratic formula.” I wrote a 5 paragraph instructional essay on how to add single digit numbers. I received a grade of 105 for creativity and accuracy.
– the assignment was to write a summary of the uber-important grade-wide government simulation as a reporter from a mainstream newspaper. I chose the onion and wrote about the European Union changing its name to the European Disunion because they felt bad about all the anti-brexit voters who got let down
– we were supposed to watch a historical movie and write a compare/contrast essay on how accurate it was to actual historical events. I chose Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter and did not mention vampires AT ALL until the last sentence of the essay.
– in health class we were assigned to write a “letter” essay convincing a teenager not to try drugs. I wrote an impressively sinister 6 paragraphs posing as the FBI agent stalking the teenager filled with lines like “they’re trying to hurt you. don’t ask me how I know- I always know. I’m here even when you can’t sense me. Drugs kill more effectively than the yakuza- and I would know.”
These are incredible
@the-muffin-puffin YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT AND NOT FOLLOW UP
in 4th grade, for our science unit about cell structure, my informational essay was told in the first person, as if someone was narrating their day job, and signed it “Mike O’Chondria”
The best essay I ever graded was an English-language proficiency essay (so basically just, prove you can write in English to a certain degree of skill and know what an essay is) for Texas high school standardized testing. The prompt was “Someone who has had an influence on your life” and the teen in question wrote about his girlfriend, Mary Jane.
The entire essay was one long metaphor for how he loved to smoke pot all day erry day, including downsides like “Sometimes after we hang out for a while I’m so tired I sleep through my alarm” and “I’m always hungry for snacks when we kick it.” It was brilliant and I gave it the top score allowed.
I took a class where, in addition to full-length essays, every other week we wrote a two-page response paper prompted by class discussion. When we read Moby Dick, I started mine with:
Moby Dick is a tale, told perhaps over
ale, of a male who set sail on the tail-end of a trail of a very pale whale. He
would not bail or derail, but nor would he prevail; indeed, he would fail—
wholesale, in a sea-gale!—to curtail that Holy Grail of a pale whale.
But he
railed! Oh, he railed—did not quail or turn tail—‘gainst the heavenly scale of
that mighty white whale. And the fate that it promised, in which doomed was he
to fail…
In conclusion, I should never have
access to a rhyming dictionary.
Seriously though, Moby Dick is a subversion of a classic Greek tragedy…
Overdressed & Underappreciated 