“Between 2001 and 2010, some 31,000 servicepersons were involuntarily discharged for personality disorders. It is likely that in many cases these were sham diagnoses meant to rid the ranks of MST victims. “If they want you to be schizophrenic,” says Trent Smith, an MST survivor currently fighting his discharge from the Air Force, “you’re schizophrenic.” These diagnoses also spare the government the costs of aftercare: The VA considers a personality disorder to be a pre-existing condition, so it won’t cover the expense of treatment for PTSD caused by a sexual assault.”—Military Sexual Assault: Male Survivors Speak Out
“We spend a lot of time criticizing victims of domestic violence, but we also spend a lot of time talking about them as victims, rather than seeing them as whole people who are forced, by circumstance, to make a series of genuinely complex and heartbreaking decisions. When footage is released of Ray Rice knocking out his fiancé, we rush to see the evidence but don’t really know what to do with it. A few commentators have struggled to excuse or defend Rice’s actions, while others have complained that we simply don’t have context to understand why he would do such a thing. Most mainstream discussion has rushed to Janay Rice’s defense by pointing out the ways that she was an innocent victim of a horrible crime. But when Janay Rice herself responded to the public distribution of this footage, she was primarily angry that she had been directly embarrassed by the sudden media exposure. And why wouldn’t she be? When discussing Janay Rice, many commentators rushed to criticize her choices, or simply left her out of her own story.”—
“Every people-group is guilty of dehumanizing their enemies, of course, but just as my seven year-old’s angry verbal abuse is less threatening than a grown man holding a gun issuing the same abuse, when the ones doing the dehumanizing are a powerful nation history teaches us to really be frightened. You see, despite the reputation of so-called barbarians, through history the bloodshed committed by empires like Rome, the British, and yes we Americans vastly outweighs the violence done by relatively less powerful, less “civilized” cultures. As a simple case in point we have inflicted, by the most conservative of estimates, at least 50 times as many civilian deaths in Iraq since 9/11 as were inflicted upon us. Since the imbalance in the ledgers is readily apparent we have to convince ourselves that the violence committed by these less powerful groups is of a different character than the violence we sew. We’re violent, sure, but our violence is somehow civilized while theirs is barbaric. To maintain our willful ignorance we sanitize the violence done by our society. Our cameras show only buildings exploding from afar. We create euphemisms like “Enhanced Interrogation” to hide our use of torture from ourselves.”—
Come on, "violation" has many non-sexual meanings. Privacy violation, violation of trust, etc.
Sure it does. And all senses of it connote something far more severe than this tiresome “I am a special snowflake and so is my music collection” poseur nonsense.
Music is like books: The most interesting book collection isn’t one bookshelf of carefully-chosen volumes selected for the impression they convey to a visitor looking at the shelves.* It’s far more interesting to walk into someone’s house and see several bookshelves with all kinds of stuff on them- different subjects, different genres, major publishers, indies and self-pubbed, never knowing if the book on the shelf is there because the owner loves it, or because they found it useful once, or because they hated it and wonder if they might hate it less someday. People who read everything are far more interesting than people who read a “carefully curated” list.
I guess my point is, people who are in a twist because their carefully-constructed statements of self** have been temporarily disrupted are at best far too self-conscious for their own good, and at worst are boring, tiresome people who will hopefully get a lot more interesting when they grow out of giving a fuck about what other people think about their tastes in music, in books, in art.
*To be clear, we all did this in our teens and 20s before we grew up and realized how dreadfully obvious it was.
**Made out of other people’s creative labor, mind.
We’ve surrendered the physical trappings, but the connotations remain. And I think Apple didn’t see this because — no matter how deeply they insist music runs in their DNA — from the perspective of the iTunes Store, “library” means licensed content the user is currently authorized to stream or download. But due to various design decisions Apple’s made over the years, that’s not what it means to anyone else. I’d wager that to a majority of iTunes users, “library” means my personally curated collection of stuff that I enjoy and feel comfortable associating with my identity. Messing with that is, to be frank, nothing short of a violation.
In a month in which actual women have been driven from their actual homes by people making digital threats against them, and more actual women have had their actual naked photos stolen and then splashed across the internet, I have about zero patience for the use of the word “violation” to mean “There’s an album in my library that I have to delete lest someone think I’m uncool enough to like U2.”
I guess if you have auto downloads set up it maybe showed up all by itself. But jeebus who cares? Delete it and now it’s just in icloud like every freebie you ever got from a Starbucks card. That’s awful somehow?
Just as a data point… I actually DO have automatic downloads set up and it still didn’t download to my local drive. But yes.
U2’s not really my jam but the intersection in the Venn diagram of “People who at least kind of like U2” and “People with the money for iOS devices” seems like it would be fairly large.
1. I worked at home today due to a vehicle maintenance appointment this morning. Is there anything better than finishing up a challenging, exacting task right at 5, closing your laptop, and sitting on the floor to play with your kid? I THINK NOT.
2. SPX is this weekend. Last year, I was 8 1/2 months pregnant and we spent ALL THE DOLLARS on books for Charlie. Of course, this was before we were telling anyone what his name was, so some of the first people who knew what we were naming our kid were the creators who signed their work to him. We’re looking forward to taking him along for a stroll through the vendor area this year and perhaps introducing him to some of those same people. People who (with the exception of one who was already a friend) will have no idea who he is or we are, but will smile politely and perhaps be pleased that we remember them, even if they don’t remember us.
3. When nicky36 says that Sylvia has planned every moment of Thanksgiving break, I’m kind of hoping a trip to Tastee Diner is on the agenda.
4. Also at SPX, hoping I can replace my “wibbly-wobbly sexy-wexy” button which mysteriously disappeared from my bag one day.
5. At my new(ish) gig, I’ve been dialing the assertiveness WAAAAAAY the hell back, because I’m the new kid, because I have bosses trying to manage a client relationship and don’t need me torching the place, and because the habits that served me (mostly) well at the old place aren’t necessarily the right habits at the new place. But when I find myself thinking, “Yes, I have tits and I do content, but I still fucking know how HTML and CSS work,” and finally DO go off and say something pointed… it’s entertaining when my boss IMs me to congratulate me on it.
“Roger Goodell — a man who spared no expense going after the New Orleans Saints during the Bountygate scandal, a man who has appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner time and time again in cases of player discipline, a man known predominately for his willingness to find and examine all forms of evidence in cases of perceived misconduct — now wants us to believe, in this particular instance, after months of reporting by trusted League sources that the NFL factored what was on that elevator tape into its decision to suspend Ray Rice a mere two games, that he did not, actually, see the tape, and is just as flabbergasted as the rest of us that this horrific act of violence took place. Oh lawdy, bring the fainting couch.”—
I think I have had juuuuust about enough of the NFL. And it makes me sad, because the Steelers are pretty much the civic religion of my ancestral homeland, but that’s also sort of the problem: You’ll see little old ladies wearing Steelers earrings and crocheting black-and-gold afghans for their grandkids, because boys AND girls are taught to love the Steelers from an early age. Every yinzer baby is issued a birth certificate and a Terrible Towel, and little girls have favorite players and wear jerseys just like their brothers do… and I just can’t continue on with an organization that only gives a shit about Janay Rice as a PR problem, or the women Ben Roethlisberger is accused of assaulting, or any of the other women who ended up on the wrong side of an NFL player’s sense of entitlement backed by a culture that tacitly encourages violence as a professional skill, and then will turn around next month and pinkwash the uniforms, the flags, the shoes, and whatever other tchotckes they can sell for Breast Cancer Awareness Month in an effort to convince us that they care about women (just, you know, not the women romantically involved with the players).
And that’s just ON TOP OF their consistent effort to cover up and minimize the mounting, undeniable evidence that football as it is currently played is not only bad for the human brain, but that by the time a player is drafted, after years of college ball, high school ball, and pee-wee leagues, his brain is already so damaged his risk-assessment centers actually don’t function correctly, so he literally doesn’t know better than to sign away his cognitive function for an NFL contract.
The Terrible Towel is owned not by the Steelers, but by that Allegheny Valley School, a school for children with intellectual and physical disabilities. (Myron Cope donated the IP; his son went to the school and flourished.) So Charlie will still have his own Terrible Towel. I’m just not comfortable teaching him to twirl it.
“In San Francisco last year, a man stabbed a woman in the face and arm after she didn’t respond positively to his sexually harassing her on the street.
In Bradenton, Fla., a man shot a high school senior to death after she and her friends refused to perform oral sex at his request.
In Chicago, a scared 15-year-old was hit by a car and died after she tried escaping from harassers on a bus.
Again, in Chicago, a man grabbed a 19-year-old walking on a public thoroughfare, pulled her onto a gangway and assaulted her.
In Savannah, Georgia, a woman was walking alone at night and three men approached her. She ignored them, but they pushed her to the ground and sexually assaulted her.
In Manhattan, a 29-year-old pregnant woman was killed when men catcalling from a van drove onto the sidewalk and hit her and her friend.
Last week, a runner in California — a woman — was stopped and asked, by a strange man in a car, if she wanted a ride. When she declined he ran her over twice.
FUCK YOU if you think that street harassment is a “compliment” or “no big deal” or that it’s “irrational” of us to be afraid because “what’s actually gonna happen.” Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you some more.”—
“Why do white people own so many pets?
Because we’re not allowed to own people anymore.
What is the scariest thing about a white person in prison?
You know he did it.
how many Chicago cops does it take to change a light bulb? None, they just beat the room for being black.”
A good looking 50 year old white man is trying to get laid on reality TV. What show are you watching?
To catch a predator.
Why do white girls travel in groups of three or five?
They can’t even
What do you call 64 white people in a room? A full blooded Cherokee.”—
at dinner last night, a coworker was talking about hanging out with his white friends and getting fed up with the racist jokes, and asked them to tell a white people joke. nobody had any, so he googled and found these. after a few of them, people were a lot less comfortable.
white folks, next time you hear a racist joke, maybe lead with one of these in response. tag this “I’m white” when you reblog it, if you are.
*sigh* I am doomed to keep seeing Dan’s writing on stuff everywhere for the rest of my life, aren’t I? Maybe I just need to get over my memories of what a freaking ignorant tool he was 15 years ago in the IRC channel we all hung out on.
I don’t know, dude. I said some pretty asinine things in an IRC channel 13 or so years ago. I’d hate to be denied the opportunity to demonstrate growth as a person since then because of them.
I need to find time to write a response to this piece, because I disagree with almost all of it, but the only responses I’m seeing to it are from patriarchy wingnuts.
(Maybe this just hit a nerve because I don’t get to contribute to the dinner-making as often as I’d like right now, simply because we’re at a place where dinner-making is often happening while I’m putting Charlie to bed. But Tom and I agree that we really want to make family mealtimes a priority as Charlie grows up, and that will get easier as his sleep needs change.)
“I doubt highly that the folks at the BBC had any notion, in 1963 when Doctor Who began, that they were creating a text which might evoke the journey of teshuvah for Jewish viewers for half a century to come. But I believe that it’s our task as readers of any text (whether written or televisual) to find our own meaning in it, and that the finding of meaning is an essentially creative act. In coming to our own interpretations of what we’re given, we become in a way co-creators of the text we’re reading. To use another midrashic metaphor, we’re contributing to the white fire which surrounds the black fire of the text. The pshat (simple / surface meaning) of these early episodes of the new series of Doctor Who suggests that the Doctor is doing some self-examination. As viewers, we would do well to follow his example and plunge into our own process of teshuvah.
Some may scoff at the notion of finding this kind of lofty life lesson in a show which is as endearingly over-the-top as Doctor Who. But I say: find teachers of teshuvah wherever you can. Your new incarnation could begin right this minute. The new year is just around the corner. Opportunities for teshuvah abound. What are you waiting for? Who do you want to become?”—Velveteen Rabbi: New beginnings, Doctor Who, and teshuvah
“Unless there’s someone over their shoulders shaming them back to their side of the gender line (sadly not a hypothetical), kids will like what they like, and that means superheroes, bright pink and dinosaurs often live together in harmony in a child’s imagination. That some adults, and apparently 99.5 percent of toy marketers, want to “fix” this by shaming kids into conformity is, to my mind, an obscenity long overdue for hard societal pushback.”—
Right now Charlie’s preferences are based on: Does it make a cool noise when I bang it against something? Can I stick it in my mouth? Can I put it inside another thing? Does it roll interestingly on the floor? But eventually that will change, so posting this for later reference.
“The reality is that cell phone designers have heard for years what a painful experience it is to lose data, and have prioritized the seamless recovery of those bits best they can. It’s awful to lose your photos, your emails, your contacts. No, really, major life disruption. Lot of demand to fix that. But in all things there are engineering tradeoffs, and data that is stored in more than one location can be stolen from more than one location. 98% of the time, that’s OK, you really don’t want to lose photos of your loved ones. You don’t care if the pics are stolen, you’re just going to post them on Facebook anyway.
2% of the time, those pictures weren’t for Facebook. 2% of the time, no it’s cool, those can go away, you can always take more selfies. Way better to lose the photos than see them all over the Internet. Terrible choice to have to make, but not generally a hard decision.
So the game becomes, separate the 98% from the 2%.”—
This whole piece about cloud-stored photo thefts is worth your time, partly because of the good thinking in it and partly as a piece of writing.
But the tl;dr, practical advice that doesn’t shame women for having sex lives is: Use software specifically designed to securely send/securely delete photos for your nekkid selfies, use regular old iCloud for everything else. (He recommends Wickr over Snapchat; it’s more secure.)
Should you desire to spend the majority of your life in the woods, you are free to do so; there is no limit to how often an American may go camping. You can work a summer job and save up enough cash to buy a polar sleeping bag, a few MREs and various basic supplies, and go forth (ugh, you probably have to get permits, though) to live off the fat of the land, and to cultivate a life of solitude and silence.
It is slightly less understandable, and altogether less admirable, to steal candy from children.
But the mythos. The fanboys! The adoring fanboys whose dream it is to live in their own filth in the wood, Nobly Living Alone And Also Eating As Much Fluff As I Want, and Never Having To Talk To Anyone About Awards Ceremonies, And Literally Stealing From Children, the Chris McCandless boys who want nothing more than to live out the last five minutes of Shane on a daily basis, who mistake male-induced anti-social behavior and chronic theft for true independence; what my friend Chris called “the romantic transcendence of listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd for hours while slowly dying from an all-marshmallow diet” — all that must GO.
It is very silly that we live in a country where the conversation about people who rely on government assistance runs generally along the lines of “DON’T TAKE HANDOUTS,” while white men who steal from their neighbors are touted as tragic symbols of noble self-reliance! You can spend as much time in the forest as you like; this is America and no one will stop you. Put aside your needless, trumped-up sense of social persecution (“I MUST ESCAPE FROM HUMANITY, but can I have your magazines?”).
“The truth is: all the music men will disappoint us. They’ll make exceedingly wack albums or be rude and dismissive in person. They’ll abandon art for commerce or go into hiding. They’ll catch the most absurd, unsettling cases. You’ll live. Sometimes, if you’re a die-hard fan, you’ll give them the widest berth, remembering the good album, the great guest verse, all that as-yet-unrealized promise.
But a time may come, as that artist approaches midlife, when you realize he has let the ugliest parts of himself go unchecked. He has shirked rehab, reason, or the idea of reckoning. And if he’s anything like CeeLo, nothing he’s ever done will disgust you and chill you clear to the bone like knowing that despite your patience, despite his vast exposure to the extravagance and cruelty in each corner of the world, despite the eventual responsibilities to the next generation that come with advancing age, your favorite music men could hit 40 still believing and imposing as rule of law that respect, tenderness, decency and even acknowledgment of women’s humanness is some sort of meritocracy, individually earned, publicly debatable.”—