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siopold:

miracleyangwenli:

siopold:

the funny thing about dril posts is that they actually do have a structure to them– they hit a kind of conceptual caesura halfway through, a point where there’s no inevitable logical connection between what’s been said and what’s still to come. here, the first sentence didn’t need to result in the second, yet it’s not “lol random” either; the speaker is angry about his boss’ draconian ferret-kissing policy, and reacts in kind, and even the reference to a “screen saver” reminds us that we’re in an office. it’s a narrative progression that, despite having an internal logic, alienates its punchline from its setup. who the hell is this person?

one thing i love about @dril posts is how they all seem to take place in a universe that is somewhat like our own, but with the habitus of white middle america taken to a bizarre, absurd, but strangely logical conclusion. take this one, for instance: 

so we have our setting: a security guard protecting the american flag in the betsy ross museum, something almost archetypically american and middle class. but once again the first part, or setup, for the punchline, “fucking the flag,” careens the joke into an alien punchline that still, given the setting, makes sense. @dril’s security guard character imitates a sort-of cop-talk, the banter of a security guard, “buddy, they wont even let me fuck it”. you can imagine a similar response from a guard at any museum, but we’re talking about Fucking the American Flag, here. 

i really love @dril. 

it’s astonishing that a human being thinks of those posts. some person, someone out there whose existence we have to infer, because all we know is that those posts occur and they must be coming from somewhere. “the @dril​ tweeter” resonates as “the beowulf poet” does, except beowulf (which i’ve only read in translation, so i’m not an authority) has never made any use of the english language as baffling and sublime and somehow primally interlaced with the stuff of human consciousness as “IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL.”

deadlydinos:

When straight men are like “but if I share a locker room with a gay guy he might look at me!”

Okay leaving aside the fact that gay doesn’t mean attracted to you

And gay doesn’t mean “lacking in any sort of human decency or inability to prevent staring”

DOES THE THOUGHT OF SOMEONE LOOKING AT YOU IN A SEXUAL WAY, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE NOT TRYING TO BE SEXUAL, MAKE YOU SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE MY STRAIGHT MALE FRIEND?

DOES IT

DOES

IT

A quick tangent: I have a fun game/exercise that I play with my rhetoric classes. I pick a seemingly innocuous phrase that is (over-)used in mass media, then I ask the class to explain what it means. No matter what they say, I either pretend not to understand, or ask “no, but what does it mean?” The students think it’s frustrating, then funny, then, frustrating again. A favorite phrase for this game is “senseless violence.”

The point of the exercise is to examine some of the contradictions or confusion we use in everyday language. I feel this way about the phrase “faith in humanity,” and especially “restore [my/your/anyone’s] faith in humanity.” What is humanity, what does it mean to have faith in it, and why does the faith need to be restored? I assume that humanity means something close to “the goodness of human nature,” and not “the essential or unifying nature of personhood,” but I’m really not sure. At the very least the repeated recycling of this phrase should serve as a reminder of the Sisyphean task of restoring faith in humanity, whatever it may mean. Humanity is always already in doubt; our faith must endlessly be restored.
Life Sentences: The Grammar of Clickbait! by Michael Reid Roberts

katuriankaturiankaturian:

So guess what? My tumblr turned 3 today! I had no idea but when tumblr emailed me the news I suddenly got excited. I haven’t always been consistent, there have been large gaps where I haven’t even checked on it, or had it cross my mind. But It has been a good place to tuck myself away and get lost in a world of beauty and foreign adventures. It’s the place where I can enact my wildest fantasies and give shelter to my darkest thoughts. It doesn’t require me to have a public face or promote anyone else’s agenda. Thanks for being my weird little wonderland, KaturianKaturianKaturian. We’ve got a ways more to go.

nprbooks:

Today’s top book news item:

Doris Pilkington Garimara, the aboriginal author who wrote of the forced separation of mixed-race aboriginal children from their families, died on April 10. She was thought to be 76.

Garimara’s novel Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence was based on the story of her mother, one of the so-called Stolen Generation, who was taken from her family and placed in a government settlement. She escaped with two other girls and walked more than 1,000 miles through the Australian wilderness. Garimara, too, was a member of the Stolen Generation and grew up in a mission believing she had been abandoned by her mother.

"[W]hile we were in the mission, again, we were continually told, you know, that the Aboriginal culture was evil … [a]nd the people who practiced it were pagans and devil worshippers," she said in a 2003 interview. Reunited years later, Garimara’s mother told her the story of her escape, which became a novel and then a celebrated film. 

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