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marypsue · 5 years

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an author meme because @viletorpedo tagged me and I think we may have descended into a vicious author meme tagging cycle

Author Name: MaryPSue. My ffn is different, but also now defunct, so I don't see much purpose in putting that username here. This was a username I chose when I first signed up for tumblr back in 2011, based on a whim and the main character of a parody webcomic I was considering making. (It never came to fruition.)

Fun fact: the 'P' doesn't stand for anything and is really just there for aesthetic purposes, though it has variously been used as an initial for Perfect, Pitch, and Perdita depending on context and circumstance.

Fandoms You Write For: Anything moderately popular which has either a dead kid as the main character, a fraught central sibling relationship, a female character Cursed With Awesome, or all of the above. Probably best known for stuff for Gravity Falls (and Gravity Falls Transcendence AU) and Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood fandoms, though I'm currently exercising my right to be the most basic of fandom bitches by primarily pouring my energy into canons where Tom Hiddleston portrays a dark-haired woobie who thinks of nothing but murder all day. (I know there's got to still be at least a ghost of a Crimson Peak fandom out there somewhere, dammit.)

Where You Post: Here, and AO3. Most things end up in both places, though I don't know what tumblr's policies re: links and the main search are anymore so often there isn't an AO3 link included on my tumblr fic posts.

Most Popular One-shot: By kudos, that'd have to be...A Semi-Normal Life (Gravity Falls, Transcendence AU)! I didn’t expect this one.

Most Popular Multi-chapter Story: Again going by kudos, Raising Stakes (Gravity Falls).

Favourite Story You Wrote: Picking just one is very hard, but I'm going to put in a good word, at this close date to Halloween, for Samhain (Rise of the Guardians, Guardians of Childhood). You don't need any familiarity with the source material to read this one; it's a ghost story and a romance and a tragedy with what is arguably a happy ending. Well, a happy ending for a ghost story.

Story You Were Nervous To Post: Definitely all of them, though I'll admit to a particular anxiety about posting others (MCU, Thor). Partly because the last thing I'd posted had not been working out on the writing end and I had to take it down because I was so unhappy with it (something I'd only done once before in my entire fic career) and I was completely unable to tell whether this was any better; partly because of the subject matter; partly simply because I have avoided a good 90% of all the MCU movies, especially the crossover-y Avengers ones, and so did not have the level of knowledge of canon that I like to have before posting things so I can be sure I haven't got simple details wrong. (Changing things deliberately from canon is one thing. Not knowing a thing which might turn out to have bearing on a fic is quite another.)

How Do You Choose Your Titles: Sometimes they're a bad pun that's relevant to the plot, premise, or themes of the story; sometimes they're stolen song lyrics or snippets of poetry; and recently I've caved and just started giving my silly working titles to oneshots, or titling them like episodes of Friends. (The SPN/MCU Thor crossover that I ended up taking down got the positively insipid and overused, if extremely relevant, Lana Del Rey lyric title 'gods & monsters' when I posted it, but the working title and probably the title I should have actually given it was 'oh whats THIS hot topic clearance bin nonsense now'.)

Do You Outline: Sort of.

Complete: 118 works and counting!

In Progress: Something Borrowed, Something Blues (Gravity Falls, Transcendence AU) and Imbalance (The Adventure Zone: Balance).

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: I'm sitting on a Crimson Peak/Haunting of Hill House (the novel, not any of the adaptations) crossover for Halloween that I'm really excited to share. I'm really thrilled with how it's turned out! It's a little experimental, a little romantic, a little queer, and hopefully a lot creepy.

Other than that, I've got a couple of continuations of things sitting in Drafts Limbo (there is some kind of ending in the works for The Family Business, though I have no idea how long it'll take to get there, and I have a host of ideas but no solid plot for what happens next in Girls In White Dresses), and some things I haven't shared because I'm not sure they're finished or that there's an audience for them or that they wouldn't be better off with the serial numbers filed off (a series of casefics where Dean Winchester gets cursed into a female body and is Not Particularly Happy About It At All, a definitely very hilarious probably non-canon-compliant oneshot where Darcy Lewis starts to suspect her new roommate is the supervillain of the week in disguise), but mostly my ideas lately have tended towards origfic. (Please. I have so many ideas and so many OCs for origfic. Help me.)

Do You Accept Prompts: Only if I announce I'm taking prompts on this blog. It does happen, though not as often as it used to.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: Hm. Well, right now I'm juggling ideas for two or three silly romance novels: one that's a thinly-veiled Mystery Trio AU featuring incubi; one where a burnt-out author of paranormal romances goes on vacation and ends up having to solve a murder that looks like it was committed by a werewolf to clear her name; and one that's a Hallmark seasonal romance movie for Halloween, where a high-powered marketing director comes home and ends up getting involved in the effort to save an old inn, which turns out to be haunted by an amorous ghost.

I've also got a couple of Stephen King-esque horror stories set in small rural towns that prominently feature flashbacks, and one mystery/thriller in the vein of definitely not bfu rpf where I've deliberately badly filed the serial numbers off the MCU's stable of actors to look at what happens when a megacorporation decides that its contracts should give it absolute control, not only of its actors' bodies, but also their minds. (That sounds...so serious and meaningful when I put it like that. Don't be fooled, it's 100% an excuse to reimagine the Avengers as a bunch of competent women who are actually friends, and also do that 'what if actors started becoming their characters' thing that's always fascinated me, with a side of social commentary blatantly tacked on.)

But...no real plans to write anything that's going to get posted anytime soon, sorry. Unless y'all are particularly interested in my original fiction.

Tagging: @gretchensinister, @pingnova, @seiya234, and anyone else who I didn't tag the first time I think this came around and who wants to do it.

#chatter #'see? im self-aware! i mock my own interests first so you can't!' she screams into the void

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kamari333 · 5 years

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tagged by: @deku-lily (i'm not so active rn so why not do something silly so you all know i'm not dead! XD)

Nickname: Kamari, Kam, thot (i mean i kinda liked "Bitch Giggle" heh lol)

Height: 5'1" - 5'2"

Zodiac: Capricorn and Aquarious (i'm right on the cusp of both, and it varies depending on who you ask which I fall on)

Last Movie I Saw: in theaters? "Dragon Ball Super: Broly" just flatout saw? "Nanatsu no Taisai: The Movie"

Last Thing I Googled: "my life is a lie meme"

Favorite Musician: idk names well. uh. maybe Utada Hikaru? I like her enough to know her name so that must count for something.

Song Stuck in My Head: what do you mean "song" singular? I got a whole goddamn playlist. Currently: Highschool of the Dead; The Muffin Song; Carameldansen; Lost Ones Weeping (but my parody lyrics not the actual ones); The Dream is Over; Everything You Know is Wrong (but my Sans Pick Up Your Sock parody lyrics); and a few more.

Other Blogs: I have a main thats kinda just for reblogs, an animal spam blog, a blog just to ask me random shit, a blog just for interacting with my Resonance multiverse, and a NSFW reblog blog that is pretty much useless now THANKS A LOT TUMBLR STAFF YOU FASCIST FLACID PRICKS

Followers: I have to look this up... uh... 299 WTF who are you people and why are you here?!?!?!

Following: I have to look this up too... uh... 258... and i interact with... like... two. maybe three. -_-;;

Amount of Sleep: 8-12 hours/day rn but its been as low as 6

Lucky Numbers: 3, 7, 12, 13, 67, 69

Dream Job: Successful Author / Game Developer

What I'm Wearing: pajama top and a skort, both in blue, the skort a dark indigo and the shirt a pale powder blue

Favorite Food: pizza; ramen; chipotle chicken and rice; tacos; white cheese; onion soup

Languages: native and fluent English; choppy and deteriorated Spanish, Japanese, Latin; worse Italian

Can I Play an Instrument: yes. i was a precussionist throughout high school, playing a wide variety of keyboard and auxilary instruments. i also like the ocarina and string instruments, though i never practice anymore

Favorite Song: hard to say. i go through phases. also, my favorite song to listen to isn't always my favorite song to sing. I think right now its probably Highschool of the Dead for singing, or maybe Dead on Arrival, but listening to is probably this one remix of the Snowdin Theme that was really cool. Better question would be "of the songs I like, which one are you currently obsessing over" and that would probably be one of the songs in the Head Playlist mentioned above

Random Fact: my cousin is cooler than me go see them instead

Describe Your Aesthetic: green, soft socks, smooth textures, dim light, soft cuddle nest, comfort food, I NEED CONTEXT WHAT AESTHETIC DO YOU MEAN

tagging: @starsgivemehp @tinyartsy

#kamari333thoughts #dumb stuff

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swimintothesound · 6 years

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Lil Pump Versus The Elderly: A Long and Storied History

Letter From the Editor: The writer of this piece would like to apologize in advance for the abject stupidity contained within the following wall of text. If you’re brave enough to subject yourself to the mania that’s about to unfold, then you have my admiration, gratitude, respect, and appreciation. Thank you for understanding, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Pumpology 101: The Mystifying Origins of Gazzy Garcia

Lil Pump is a dreadlocked 17-year old rapper from Florida who first began making waves in late 2016 when his song “D Rose” became an unexpected viral hit. Over the span of a few short months, the wrist-obsessed track had garnered millions of plays on Soundcloud and over one hundred million curious YouTube clicks. By the end of 2017, Lil Pump (whose real name is Gazzy Garcia) had established himself as a mainstream success when his song “Gucci Gang” peaked at #3 on the Billboard charts. Spawning from his self-titled debut, the alliterative hit quickly became the focal point of a heated debate on the declining state of rap music rap music, the ongoing idocratization of popular culture, and the bare minimum required to pass for lyricism in the year of our Lord 2017.

Expertly covered by both Rolling Stone and The New York Times, Mr. Pump has become a figure at the forefront of the budding “Soundcloud Rap” movement. This subgenre is a spin-off of Trap that’s focused on crafting a particular brand of blown-out, vapid, and repetitive hip-hop that, while lyrically substanceless, still manages to be catchy, memorable, and (most importantly) energetic. It’s hype-up music that’s been distilled so many times that words practically don’t matter.

I’ve already discussed my conflicted feelings on the genre back in August, and while some members of this scene are still objectively-horrific human beings, I’m willing to admit that I’ve come around to Lil Pump thanks to the catchiness of the aforementioned “Gucci Gang.” While the man himself should never be looked up to as an idol, Garcia is still making exciting creations within a field that I’m morbidly fascinated by.

The Lyrics (or Lack Thereof)

Like most rappers, Pump’s songs typically center around the same award-winning trifecta of drugs, money, and women. What makes “Gucci Gang” unique is the fact that it ticks all these boxes while also managing to be accessible to a mainstream audience. Soundcloud Rap’s previous biggest success came in the form of “Look At Me!,” a song whose lyrics are probably just a touch too edgy for mainstream audiences.

Meanwhile “Gucci Gang” has just the right mix of garish colors and catchy lyrics, both of which are accompanied by a distinct feeling of “newness” that helped it stand out from the crowd. Additionally, the song’s bouncy three-syllable chorus proved perfectly memeable, ripe for parody, and endlessly reworkable, all of which led to a song that hit, and lingered in the cultural consciousness for longer than anyone ever expected. Possibly even a reflection of our society at large, “Gucci Gang” is an undeniable success no matter how you cut it.

Outside of the song itself, Lilliam Pumpernickel has also gained fans through numerous extra-musical antics including second-floor balcony jumps, a love for iCarly’s Miranda Cosgrove, and a running joke that he’s a Harvard Graduate. Essentially, he’s not afraid to be a meme, and that lack of fear makes him even stronger. Complete with his own catchphrase, there are many reasons to be entertained by Lil Pump, and all of these elements combined help explain his meteoric rise to success.

The Emergence of an Astronomical Happening

Though my numerous listens to “Gucci Gang,” I began to approach the song the same way that many others did: first with curiosity, then ironic enjoyment, then genuine adoration. I can’t stress enough that the lyrics are nothing to write home about, however one stanza in particular stands out amongst the rest like a bright, shining star:

My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)

Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)

Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)

These bars initially seemed like a single metaphysical barb amongst a sea of relatively-straightforward brags and boasts, so I explained them away as a one-off lyric with no deeper significance. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this line was just the tip of the iceberg.

By the time December had rolled around, “Gucci Gang” had won the honor(?) of being recognized not once, but twice in Swim Into The Sound’s 2017 Un-Awards. While part of a largely-negative post, I shined a relatively-positive light on “Gucci Gang” as my second-biggest “WTF” moment of the year (second only to Bhad Bhabie) in which I found myself surprisingly endeared to both equally-trashy artists. Later on in the proceedings, I cited the lyrics above specifically as the single “Weirdest Flex” of 2017 (barely edging out a Drake lyric about napping).

In researching the Pump-penned lines for that write-up I found myself jumping between various Genius pages and in doing so, I quickly began to uncover a conspiracy deep as the Carly Rae Jepsen Cinematic Universe: Lil Pump has an unshakable fixation with the elderly.

The Quest For A Universal Truth

It’s no secret that artists tend to use the same concepts, thoughts, and ideas over and over again throughout their work. Usually in hip-hop, these recurring topics (like drugs, money, and women for instance) are framed by using twists on conventional language that are given new meanings within the scene’s culture. From “bricks” to “bands” to “bitches” every possible theme has dozens of different synonyms that can be switched out interchangeably to keep the rhyme fresh and the topic from going stale.

However, slang goes in and out of popular vernacular like the tides of the ocean, and Monsieur Pump is not above these familiar tropes. While drugs, money, and women remain the primary topics around which Pump waves his tales, he, on more than one occasion, has used his grandma, or the grandmother of the listener as a reference point for these interests.

Of course he likes lean, and naturally, he talks about it, but what makes Pump unique is his ability to relate that commonplace idea to the elderly in a hilarious and unexpected way. He’s using age as a barometer by which to measure his own life; the elderly representing an extreme through which he can cover these well-trodden topics.

It’s quite the signature flair for a 17-year-old to brandish, but perhaps through these lines he’s revealing his own obsession with death and mortality. Maybe these grandparent-based lyrics are allowing us a brief peek into the inner machinations of Lil Pump’s mind and we are learning what troubles him on a deep, cosmic, existential level. The philosophical reaper that keeps him up at night. These lines act as an illumination of the human experience as told through the grounded eyes of one man who yells “ESKETIT” like it’s his Pokemon name. What follows is a comprehensive list of every time Little Pump has rapped about senior citizens. You are welcome.

Exhibit #1 - “Gucci Gang”

My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr)

Still slangin' dope in the 'jects, huh? (yeah)

Me and my grandma take meds, ooh (huh?)

For the sake of completeness, we’ll begin with lyrics that started it all. The quote above comprises exactly 25% of the sole verse found on Lil Pump’s breakout hit “Gucci Gang.” In it we find Pump surveying his surroundings, living situation, and pattern of systematic drug use over a bassy beat and twinkling piano line.

First, we get the worrying comparison between the upkeep of his own opiate addiction to monthly rent, then the (uncalled for) implication that the listener’s mother is homeless, and the final cherry on top: the fact that Pump spends quality time popping pills with his grandmother. While the specifics remain vague here, it’s implied that he’s taking drugs recreationally while she is taking them for health reasons.

This being one of Pump’s numerous references to the elderly, the topic’s pervasiveness now leads me to believe that this is both a genuine lyric, as well as a thinly-veiled cry for help. As distressing as the lyric may be, at least he’s spending some quality time with his elders before they pass. Even if it’s a drug-fueled haze, I hope that both parties treasure their remaining time together and cherish each other's company.

Exhibit #2 - “Fiji”

I got Fiji on my neck

I got Gucci on my chest

And my grandma sippin' Tech

Off a Xan like Ron Artes

In this one-off Lil Pump loosie, Young Gazzy uses the artesian water brand as a descriptor for both his jewelry and his sex life. Following a similar structure as “Gucci Gang,” this track features a brief intro, and one verse sandwiched between two short choruses. Clocking in at a mere 88-seconds, “Fiji” is a striking minimalist creation that embraces reductionism and revels in ambiguity.

Within the world of hip-hop, “Water” can actually mean many things. From sex to swagger, the use of ‘water’ in-song is generally something you have to pick up from context clues, and this track is no different. In “Fiji” Pump walks a beautifully-ambiguous line between these typical definitions of earthly possessions and literal water, turning the brand’s name into a primal chant of “I pour Fiji on her neck.”

After a brief water-laced refrain, Pump proceeds into the meat of the song: a 45-word verse that discusses his public persona and ticks all of the seemingly-mandatory drug-based name-drops. He has jewelry on his neck, a Gucci logo tattooed on his chest, and most importantly the incongruous mention of his grandmother casually enjoying some hitech (aka Lean).

Perhaps elaborating on the lines of “Gucci Gang,” this lyric implies that maybe he and his grandmother both enjoy drugs on the same recreational level. Later on in the song he continues:

Slice your auntie in the neck

Lil Pump disrespect

Run up on you with that 40

Grab your grandma by the neck

After the verses earlier drug revelry, Pump seems to “set his sights” on the listener, attacking us via multiple familial ties. In a single moment of clarity he utters “Lil Pump disrespect” as if he knows what he’s doing is morally reprehensible, but remains out of his control. A haunting sentiment to say the least.

His hunger is insatiable, and your grandmother is his target. Violence is the only thing he understands, and your grandmother is the only thing he can grasp onto, both physically and metaphorically. And then, just as suddenly as the attack unfolded, the song fades into nothing, leaving the listener in the bloody aftermath.

Exhibit #3 - “Smoke My Dope”

Whippin' up dope in the trap spot (what)

Sellin' cocaine to your grandma (yuh)

Whippin' up dope in the trap spot (yuh, yuh)

Sellin' cocaine to your grandma (yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh)

In this early-album cut Lil Pump and fellow Florida rapper SmokePurpp trade verses for a compact and chaotic 2-minutes. In Garcia’s second verse he exerts himself enough to present one specific instance of creating and selling drugs over a series of escalating “yuh’s.”

In this simplistic portrayal of Pump’s supply chain, he gives his process away to the listener:

Whip up an indeterminate amount of “dope” within the “trap”

Proceed to sell that cocaine to the listener’s grandmother

Perhaps connected to the seemingly-uncalled-for violence depicted on “Fiji,” these lines seem to explain how Pump has obtained his wealth. I imagine that the elderly are comparatively easy-going when it comes to the purchase and intake of drugs, so it’s presumably easy money for Pump and a decent enough business model. Backed up by voracious twitter claims that echo the song’s lyrics, Pump has given us no reason to doubt him or his business acumen when it comes to selling the white stuff to the Greatest Generation.

Exhibit #4 - “Had”

My loud pack smell like fish tank

My backwoods filled with dumb stank

I can't fuck with you, cause I know all you ni**as stains

My grandma selling loud pack and she selling cocaine

She run up on your block and she'll shoot you in the fuckin' brain

With “Had” it seems that there’s a new wrinkle to Pump’s drug operation as it’s revealed that he’s running a family business by employing his grandmother as a key player.

Depicting his bubbe as savage and violent as himself, this example could possibly explain Pump’s own outwardly-destructive actions as a learned behavior. In portraying a systematic issue within our society, this line directly tackles how family can fail us, or lead us to repeat the same mistakes as those that came before us. It’s a tortured and agonized call for help as Pump removes himself enough to realize the trauma that he has indirectly absorbed and the conditions that he has had no choice but to grow up in.

This all said, it’s still nice that people like Pump’s grandmother can find purpose in the fast-paced working world and be driven by the fulfillment of a hard days work. The fact that she’s willing to kill on top of the drug dealing means that she’s committed to the cause, and is likely quite experienced, even in her old age. At the very least, Pump must come from good genes!

Exhibit #5 - “At The Door”

I got junkies at the door

I could serve you 2 for 4

I could serve you couple Xans

I could feed your bitch some coke

Yeah my Uzi automatic

Make your grandma do a backflip

On this mid-album cut, we see yet another allusion to the violence that Pump has inflicted upon the listener’s grandmother specifically. Perhaps wielded by Pump himself, or maybe even his grandmother (as we saw in “Had), it appears as if the drug dealing illustrated on “Smoke my Dope” has gone sideways for one reason or another, and Pump has been forced to resort to violence.

This line is actually one of the multiple familial references within this verse, the others being father, daughter, and aunt, so while this reference fits squarely in the bounds of the topic at hand, there’s no getting around the persistently-elderly angle that Pump takes.

This is yet another line later echoed in a Tweet by Pump, either lending further credence to his unfeeling savagery, or (perhaps) his commitment to our society’s collective physical fitness by inspiring the elderly to do advanced-level gymnastics.

In Conclusion

None of this was good. While Pump’s initial references to the elderly seemed to be a twisted form of mutual enjoyment, things quickly devolved into selling drugs, and eventually inflicting violence directly on the listener's grandmother.

This analysis is absolute stupidity, but I find it too amusing that a 17-year-old who has so few songs officially released has referenced the elderly half a dozen times throughout the history of his recorded work. The way I see it, there are a few explanations for this lyrical ouroboros:

It’s a creative crutch.

Lil Pump has that little to say that he keeps defaulting to “grandma.”

Deep-seated familial trauma in his own past that Pump may or may not be cognizant of.

Pump thinks that the savagery of his grandma implies, dictates, and directly translates to his own.

By “attacking” the listener and showing disregard for their loved ones, his devil-may-care attitude is preemptively deflecting any criticism they may have of Pump or his music.

Lil Pump truly does fear the uncertainty of death and projects that concern through the multiple references to the elderly in his music.

It very well could be all or any combination of all of these, but in any case, I feel it’s safe to say that this qualifies as an unhealthy fixation. Whether it’s a profound fear of death, a thinly-veiled attempt to address his own mortality, or irreconcilable childhood trauma, I genuinely hope that Gazzy Garcia can get the help he needs to get over this mental block.

He’s still got many years ahead of him, and a full life to live. If he wants to make it to the status of “Grandpa Pump” he’ll have to overcome this irrational fear and tackle his issues head-on, or else they will continue to emerge in unhealthy ways.

Here’s to you Mr. Pump, I hope you get the help you need and deserve.

I’m sorry for writing this.

#Lil Pump #elderly #long-form stupidity #real journalism #soundcloud rap #hip-hop #Grandma

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incredibletinyhouse · 4 years

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Twitter pulls Trump’s ‘manipulated’ CNN parody video after media outcry, citing copyright violation

Twitter has removed a satirical video shared by US President Donald Trump – a parody CNN clip it flagged as “manipulated media” after the broadcaster saw red over the tweet and following complaints from the footage’s owner.

The meme clip, which featured mock CNN chyron and was meant as a dig at what Trump and his supporters see as biased media coverage of his presidency, was pulled on Friday after a company representing the original creators of the video complained to social media platforms, saying the footage was used without permission. In addition to Twitter, Facebook has also deleted the clip.

The offending video repurposed old viral footage showing two toddlers, one white and one black, running to embrace each other. The spoof clip was captioned “terrified toddler runs from racist baby.”

Also on rt.com

No memes, no chill? Twitter flags Trump’s fake ‘CNN clip’ intended as satire as ‘manipulated media’

The meme, which was slapped with a manipulated media tag on Twitter before it was deleted, prompted outcry from CNN.

Earlier on Friday, CNN correspondent Jim Acosta sparred with White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany, accusing Trump of exploiting the toddlers to “make some sort of crass political point.”

McEnany shot back, arguing that the video parodied the network’s “misleading headlines.”

“I think the president was making a satirical point… It was a play on CNN repeatedly taking the president out of context,” she said.

While Trump’s detractors raced to declare the takedown a victory, a number of netizens slammed the critics – some singling out Acosta by name – for their inability to “comprehend a meme,” pointing out that the video was clearly a joke.

.@PressSec TORCHES @Acosta after he repeatedly asks questions because he can’t comprehend a meme.

CNN regularly twists the facts and puts misleading headlines on their network.

That was the point of the meme.. pic.twitter.com/IAjtkL2XDS

— Benny (@bennyjohnson) June 19, 2020

It’s called a meme. A video was edited to make a funny meme. Defund cnn is also a meme. You really are shallow if you think you’ve got it all figured out 🥱

— Boseph Jiden (@boseph_jiden) June 19, 2020

He posted a meme and CNN and you crazy fools took it seriously. Just like that one video where trump body slams CNN.

— Oop- (@Oop67678189) June 19, 2020

Others observed that the parody video in question had been on Twitter since last September – the original remains on the platform – yet was only removed after the president decided to post it, one dubbing the move “censorship at its finest.”

Been up since September but now when trump tweets it there’s an issue? Hmm twitter first threw a “doctored image” label on it. And after cnn bitched they removed it from trumps page… censorship at its finest. If you don’t see it you’re part of the problem 😬 https://t.co/GiwdjIe3JA

— 🤷🏻‍♂️ (@Emil_5oh) June 19, 2020

CNN was so hurt about being called out for lying & manipulating for a narrative that they got a tweet Trump shared from a fan taken down. Doesn’t CNN have more important 💩 to do? Like “journalism”? 🤦🏽‍♀️ https://t.co/sA6YBQEHq9

— Kaydee King (@KaydeeKing) June 19, 2020

The creator of the parody video, an internet personality who goes by Carpe Donktum, has waded into the controversy, thanking Twitter for “millions of dollars in free advertising” and pointing out that no media organization complaining about the video had bothered to contact him about its intended meaning.

The most 2020 thing ever is…

Trump tweeting a meme about how CNN spins narratives on social media, which is immediately followed by CNN claiming the REAL story is that Racist Trump is exploiting children, which is then followed by Twitter flagging and removing the video. pic.twitter.com/amZT3qNP43

— Carpe Donktum🔹 (@CarpeDonktum) June 19, 2020

Trump’s meme-sharing has landed him in trouble with Twitter before, having a number of posts and retweets flagged or outright deleted for violating copyright or “community guidelines.” Most recently, the platform tagged and hid a tweet for “glorifying violence” after the president warned that “when the looting starts, the shooting starts” amid rioting and unrest in Minneapolis late last month.

Like this story? Share it with a friend!

#news #covid #coronavirus #like #india #love #instagram #media #follow #music #viral #fashion #breakingnews #instagood #noticias #corona #politics #trending #repost #sports #indonesia #tv #business #berita #new #usa #info #entertainment #football #bhfyp

#Uncategorized

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illustir · 6 years

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Highlights for Neoreaction a Basilisk

Angela Nagle’s appalling Kill All Normies, which takes the jaw-droppingly foolish methodology of simply reporting all of the alt-right’s self-justifications as self-evident truths so as to conclude that the real reason neo-nazis have been sweeping into power is because we’re too tolerant of trans people.

This brings us to our second relatively uninteresting question, which is what to do about the alt-right. In this case the answer is even easier and more obvious than the first: you smash their bases of power, with violent resistance if necessary. If you want a more general solution that also takes care of the factors that led to a bunch of idiot racists being emboldened in the first place you drag all the billionaires out of their houses and put their heads on spikes.

The lethal meme, known as Roko’s Basilisk, used the peculiarities of Yudkowskian thought to posit a future AI that would condemn to eternal torture everyone from the present who had ever imagined it if they subsequently failed to do whatever they could to bring about its existence.

I want to be clear, with all possible sincerity, that I love the braggadocio here. I want what he is selling. Yes, Mencius, savagely tear away the veil of lies with which I cope with the abject horror that is reality and reveal to me the awful, agonizing truth of being. Give me the red pill. The problem is, once we get our golf ball-sized reality distortion pill home, put on some Laibach, and settle in for an epic bout of Thanatosian psychedelia, we discover the unfortunate truth: we’re actually just huffing paint in an unhygienic gas station bathroom. Jesus, this isn’t even bat country.

By “crap,” of course, I do not mean “wrong.” Rather, I mean obvious, in the sense of sounding like the guy at the bar watching the news (probably Fox) and muttering about how “they’re all a bunch of crooks.” Liberal democracy a hopelessly inadequate and doomed system preserved by a system of continual indoctrination? You don’t say.

And this really is stunningly weird in the context of all his red pill rhetoric about the corrupt horrors of liberal democracy. Because while there are a great many obvious critiques of contemporary society, “there’s just not enough respect for profit” really doesn’t feel like one of them.

With this, we have a genuinely tricky moment, simply because of the sheer and unbridled number of unexamined assumptions going on here.

But all the same, if you’re going to talk about suppressed ideologies that oppose the interests of entrenched power, you’ve really got to talk about the original red pill: Marxism.

It is tempting to suggest that Moldbug is a failed Marxist in the sense that Jupiter is a failed star, its mass falling tantalizingly short of the tipping point whereby nuclear fusion begins. Over and over again, Moldbug asks questions much like those that Marx asked, and his answers begin with many of the same initial observations. But inevitably, a few steps in, he makes some ridiculously broad generalization or fails to consider some obvious alternative possibility, and the train of thought fizzles into characteristic idiocy.

This sort of “the world can be saved if only everyone listens to me” narcissism belongs in the genre of fiction, where it can accomplish something, and not in the visionary manifesto, where it only reveals its own impotence.

That is not to say they can get away with being wrong, at least not straightforwardly so, but it is to reiterate that the key problem with Moldbug, Yudkowsky, and Land is that they are in key regards uninteresting—that they offer dull and unsatisfying answers to their most compelling questions, of which “hang out with a bunch of racist nerdbros” is merely the worst.

Terence McKenna’s suggestion that DMT is an alien intelligence��s attempt to communicate directly with the human brain

That’s the whole point of the right to exit—a final and decisive rescue of individual liberty at all costs. But exiting requires that people stay behind; if we all go, we’ll just have to storm out again. The entire point of the project is to separate the wheat from the chaff.

He posits that in this situation the “absolute limit to our ability to adequately understand the world at all” becomes increasingly relevant, and observes that this is a frequent theme of both philosophy and horror.

The truth is that, despite Land’s evident fascination with them, the bulk of neoreactionaries are not people one would want to have a beer with, and there’s not a great case for reading their books either.

Yudkowsky isn’t just running from error; he’s running from the idea of authority. The real horror of the Basilisk is that the AI at the end of the universe is just another third grade teacher who doesn’t care if you understand the material, just if you apply the rote method being taught.

Hauntology comes from within us; the Weird from outside.

The red pill, pwnage, and for that matter the horror reading, monstrous offspring, and Satanic inversions all follow the same basic pattern—a sort of conceptual infiltration of someone’s thought in which their own methods and systems are used against them.

It is, after all, the great one-liner critique of Mencius Moldbug: he’s exactly what you’d expect to happen if you asked a software engineer to redesign political philosophy. And crucially, Moldbug basically agrees with it—he just also genuinely believes that the Silicon Valley “disruptor” crowd would be capable of running the world with no problems if only people would let them.

Which is to say, Satan opens by negging Eve, accusing her of looking at him “with disdain, Displeas’d that I approach thee thus, and gaze Insatiate, I thus single, nor have feard Thy awful brow,”112 which may be the earliest instance of telling someone they have resting bitch face.

In the face of an ecologically brutal planet, the guys with guns and tribal loyalties are a depressingly compelling bet to stick around.

With Moldbug the sense is overwhelmingly that empathy just never crossed his mind as something to factor into his design. He flat out didn’t think of it. Yudkowsky, on the other hand, thinks about it a lot and cares very deeply about it; he’s just incompetent at it.

The result of this approach is that Yudkowsky, without really meaning to, tends to look at everyone else in the world as inefficient Eliezer Yudkowskys instead of people as such.

Moldbug, Yudkowsky, and Land don’t just “do poorly” with empathy—they represent the most visible and explicit edge of a Cathedral-scaled system of values that casts the desire to listen and try to understand people who are different from you as anathema to reason itself.

This forces us to consider white culture as a set of perpetual ruins—as something that has always been lost, and that can only be apprehended as a tenuous and incomplete reconstruction.

No, what’s really notable here is Moldbug’s doe-eyed certainty that such a thing as an absolute truth service could be built; that there is a general plan of action so self-evidently compelling that if he only expressed it properly everyone would immediately flock to his side. In short, after thousands of words railing against the Cathedral for secretly being a religion, he’s accidentally reinvented religion. And then lost the holy text. You couldn’t parody it better.

They have that marvelous feature of the best gods: perfectly answering a question you didn’t know you had.

And a few, such as Ahania, are genuinely breathtaking in their scope: a pleasure goddess representing intellectual curiosity who is bound in a Persephone-like structure of death and rebirth is a metaphysical/literary construct to rival Milton’s Satan, and one Blake barely scratches the surface of.

And it’s hard not to suggest that the world would be a better place if Yudkowsky had stuck to children’s literature for adult geeks as opposed to starting a weird AI cult that derails efforts to curtail malaria.

And while Gamergate usually doesn’t have a product to sell in quite the same literal way, it’s worth noting how, for instance, two doors down from them is someone like Stefan Molyneux, whose output amounts to 30-60 minute PowerPoint presentations consisting of a by-now familiar sort of low-content dissembling, and whose business endgame is literally a cult.

The Gamergate narrative has always required a vast quasi-conspiracy to function, some story whereby feminists or SJWs or cultural Marxists exercise near-complete control over video games and video game journalism.

Not even a monoculture then—an anticulture, with Vivian James ironically its perfect representation. It’s a desire to befit their worldview, its adamance dwarfed only by its fundamental emptiness. There’s nothing there. There’s never been anything there.

And Gamergate as a whole is scarcely better. It’s always been notable for its near-complete lack of actual discussion of videogames.

More interesting is where his basic inclination towards racial stereotyping originates from: the material realities of New York real estate, its patterns of historical ethnic migrations geologically stratified across the city’s expansion.

He might have had a name. But then he literally built a six-hundred-and-sixty-six foot tower to which he offered up that name, sacrificing it upon its black altar such that the building became a titanic sigil of the sixteenth Major Arcana of the Tarot of the Golden Dawn, symbolizing destruction and ruin, with only the remnants of the man whose name it ate living within the rotting heart of its penthouse.

He sold his name, yes, but what did he get out of the deal? The answer, simply put, is what he would hereafter treat as his most valuable asset: his brand. In short, he became a creature of pure image.

But it also includes the raw allostatic load of living under his rule; the basic psychological wear and tear of waking up every morning in a post-fact world dominated by a bullying narcissist. The act of living in a world where the basic validity of your identity is contingent and perpetually imperiled, where the very definition of “fact” is in dispute, and where a brutish logic of dominance and humiliation pervades the entire social order.

Individuals can act all they want. They won’t make the end of the world go away, any more than their freedom to quit work can make them free to not starve

It helps that one can be against today’s racist wars—though not on the grounds of anti-racism, except of the most specious variety—while quietly accepting and utilising the racial inequities inherited from the racist imperialism of the past. As usual, reactionary thinking is dependant upon amnesia.

It admits that value is a mental construct, but one that is ‘real’ because it has a real social basis and real social effects. Value, for Marx, is neither a thing nor an essence, neither quality nor spirit. It is a social reality because of what humans actually do.

Theoretically detached from the objective and the material, and connected to business as a client, mainstream economics has become—to a large extent—an ideological discourse.

This is how Moldbug and Thiel’s view that democracy is incompatible with liberty arises. A democracy is a society in which the mass of the population—who are, by definition, mostly without property—can shape policy so that it curtails the freedom of the propertied to make their choices. In a free society—by their definition—the capitalists get to make their choices unfettered.

For the Austrians, democracy is to blame for capitalism going into crisis. Democracy breeds special claims by people who are not really concerned with making the choices that regulate the economy. The people without a big stake—the masses—thus destabilise the system.

This is the so-called Austrian ‘Business Cycle.’ Boiled right down: crashes and recessions happen because central banks set interest rates too low. Easy credit results, which screws up market signals. Loaners go crazy. Bubbles inflate and burst. Such lopsided production can only be remedied via letting interest rates rise to their ‘natural’ rate. In other words, the Austrian prescription is: let the crisis rip. It will be harsher but quicker. The only cure for god’s wrath is to wait for the plague to exhaust itself.

Opposition to democracy is entailed by the Austrian view of how capitalism works. Democracy is the rule of the ignorant and selfish public, and the state is their tyrannical arm. Moronic majoritarianism wields unjustifiable power over the propertied and the entrepreneurs who are, for Hayek for instance, almost promethean artists in their special sensitivity and understanding.

The logically consequent idea that emergency dictatorship may be necessary to preserve liberal society from democracy is in neoliberalism’s source code. Neoliberalism, contrary to myth, is an authoritarian ideology, committed to defending property and wealth by violence both physical and structural.

The leaders of Rothbard’s revolution would be the libertarians and the minarchists. The troops would be the masses, spurred to fight the elites. And the spurring would take the form of appeals to racism.

The disproportionate number of former-libertarians in American fascism is revealing because conservatives are far more numerous in America than libertarians, which suggests that libertarianism is statistically over-represented.

The Cultural Marxism conspiracy theory now espoused across the alt-right is a reiteration of what the (actual) Nazis called kulturbolschewismus, an idea central to Nazi dogma, about degenerate art and culture being manufactured by Jewish communists to undermine the unity of the German people. The resurrection and repackaging of this idea across a movement soaked in libertarianism is not surprising, because antagonism to socialism goes right back to the dawn of libertarianism, to the Austrian School’s foundational and self-chosen role as the intellectual foe of Marx.

People might not necessarily formulate their objections to the content of newspapers that way, but they’re nevertheless absenting themselves from daily exposure to one of the main means by which the ruling class produce ideology and public consent. This is at least as big a concern to the people running the media as the need to claw back profits.

In all of these cases, the strategy is to play on insecurities of young men in an age where there are mounting ideological challenges out there—especially on the Internet—to their untroubled social privilege. Coupled with the twin legacies of decades of neoliberalism—increasing ideological and political disorientation, and a future far less secure than that which faced their parents and grandparents at their age—such challenges can terrify the semi-privileged layer of young, white, middle class men, who enjoy all those privileges without also enjoying actual material security.

Reactionary politics once again takes advantage of having a wide batrachian mouth, both sides of which may be used for talking.

The reason actions don’t lead inevitably to goals isn’t because there are complex material structures of oppression that heavily shape people’s lives, but because we exist in linear time. Not only does Rothbard not connect time to what dominates it for most people in capitalist society—work—but hilariously, he doesn’t even bother connecting time to its ultimate horror and constraint, death.

To quote the monster directly: “Milton produced Paradise Lost in the way that a silkworm produces silk, as the expression of his own nature.” Marx would like all labour to be like that, and sees no fundamental reason why it shouldn’t.

It’s pretty clear that the Austrian School doesn’t even remotely care about this fact, but it doesn’t inherently contradict anything they say. But that is, in the end, the point, and one I’ve made before: they don’t care. That’s clear, in a sense, all the way back in the basic axiom, with its active foregrounding of the heroic individual acting upon the world, as opposed to the state of affairs that most actual people experience, which is mostly being buffeted around by various external forces, whether they be governments, history, or the class system. Indeed, “individual human beings are acted upon” would be every bit as justifiable an axiom as “individual human beings act,” if not moreso.

They have been hugging Marxism on the brink of the Reichenbach Falls for a century and a half, staring into its eyes, but have never really seen it.

Mises’ only invocation of courage is in the context of statesmen standing up to labor unions. Decency only comes up in the context of “laws of morality and decency.” And his sole mention of kindness is a complete and grotesque misunderstanding of the very concept as he declares that “the indigent has no claim to the kindness shown to him,” as if being unearned isn’t the entire fucking point of kindness. It is a conception of human action without a shred of concern for empathy – human action devoid of all humanity.

But the real reason for this is that, more than anyone else, Marx provided an alternative to the charade on which their entire philosophical edifice was constructed. He showed the need for the destruction of that which, to them, gives the world meaning—and a method by which it might be achieved.

Given that no small number of conspiracy theories are, in point of fact, anti-Semitic, any attempt to uncritically synthesize them will be as well.

Icke’s theory is much the same way. We know wealthy elites control our minds. Knowing they’re lizards (or, for that matter, Jews) doesn’t actually change anything. It is, to borrow a phrase, malignantly useless knowledge.

Not only does nothing follow from Icke’s conclusions, nothing follows within the argument itself. Icke does not so much lay out a case for the lizard people as blunder among vague associations, hoping that the aggregate of a bunch of extremely tenuous connections will somehow be persuasive instead of a discombobulated mess of shoddy research and sloppy reasoning.

The history of the world consists of a lot of wealthy assholes sleeping with each other and killing people. Changing up which assholes slept with and killed who doesn’t actually make much of a difference.

Ridiculous arguments, especially ones that recognize their absurdity, are capable of revealing things that do not follow obviously, if at all, from self-consciously serious approaches, but that are nevertheless true and valuable realizations.

So is his inclination to be skeptical of the “official” version of history. The value of this, to be clear, is not simply skepticism for its own sake (an approach that is just as likely to lead to things like climate change denial or creationism as it is to some productive insight), but rather the realization that, as the saying goes, history is written by the victors, and the standard version of history is inevitably the one that most flatters those in power.

It is not entirely clear why monstrous truth must take reptilian form, but just as the weird turns instinctively to tentacles and the hauntological inevitably drifts towards skulls, for some reason awful truth must take the form of a reptile, whether a petrifying basilisk or just a bunch of pan-dimensional aliens.

This is a leftist book, and so must engage in a circular firing squad at least once.

This set a pattern whereby trans rights were repeatedly employed by the gay rights movement as a bargaining chip—as the thing they were pointedly willing to sell out in the name of compromise, as they spectacularly did when lobbying for the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, which excluded trans people in every version that was brought to Congress prior to 2009.

Thiel’s vision of corporate success is blatantly just the Moldbug/Land vision of how authoritarian capitalism will save us from the Great Filter.

Rather, it’s that once you’re willing to question the basic fact of Thiel’s competence it rapidly becomes apparent that the only actual evidence for this competence is that he has a lot of money.

And his fascination with seasteading numbers him among the litany of people interested in micronations, which is such a rich vein of complete crackpottery that I’d hate to deprive you of the pleasure of Googling it. This borders on the investment portfolio you’d get if you gave David Icke several billion dollars.

Who would craft such a thing as the alt-right? Only a fucking idiot. What other answer were we possibly going to find? It’s been idiots all the way down. And so of course even its billionaire supervillains bankrolling world-conquering AIs, vampiric life extension, and Donald Trump are idiots. This borders on “A is A.” And yet for all its obviousness, it captures what is perhaps the key realization about the alt-right—one that’s been implicit through much of this book, but is worth making explicit as we come to a close: they’re stupid.

I do not suggest this to diminish their horror. Far from it: the essential horror of the abyss is stupidity. That’s why it’s an abyss. The unique and exquisite danger of stupidity is that by its nature, it is beyond reason. There is nothing that can be said to it, because by definition it wouldn’t understand. It is an ur-basilisk—the one terrifying possibility that haunts every single argument that has ever been made. It is a move without response, playing by no rules other than its own, which do not generally include any obligation towards consistency. It is, in its way, the only approach that can never lose an argument. And in the alt-right and its affiliates we have one of the most staggeringly vast nexuses of raw stupidity the world has ever crafted.

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revolutiononthehorizon · 7 years

Text

Nothing pisses me off more

So you’ve decided to label me a snowflake, based on your careful analysis of my character. You’ve drawn the conclusion, because the social issues I feel passionately about don’t fit in your tidy, little conservative box, that I’m a fragile human being with the delusion that I’m unique and special. Let me address this issue in simple terms, as I wouldn’t want you to get confused with big words, or distracted by Tomi Lauren telling you what to be outraged about. 1. I was not raised to believe the world owes me anything. I did not grow up in the age where everyone gets a trophy. I am an 80’s child. I was raised with equal parts fear and respect for my elders. My mother taught me that hard work and dedication would lead to success, and if I didn’t earn it, I didn’t deserve it. Although I was loved, I was not coddled. Whining and tantrums were not tolerated. I had to put on my big girl pants and either figure out how to change an undesirable situation or suck it up and move on. 2. Validation of feelings did not exist during my upbringing; not at home, not at school, not in life. There were no “safe spaces.” No one ever told me to cry it out. I didn’t get special treatment for expressing my emotions. Instead, I was taught to mask undesirable emotions, as expressing these feelings was both socially unacceptable and made me appear vulnerable. Life would chew me up and spit me out if I let it. 3. I choose to stand for issues I feel passionately about based on the raw, unfiltered life experiences I’ve had, not because I think I deserve a better life. I watched my mother struggle, working two jobs to keep her child in a safe neighborhood and good school system. I’ve seen beloved friends treated with disrespect and contempt based on the color of their skin. I’ve struggled myself, supporting my family on less than livable wages, while taking out loan after loan to pay for college. I’ve been in a position where I needed help to get by, hearing the whispers and seeing the dirty looks of people judging me for holding up the grocery line with my WIC checks. I’ve heard the stories of my family fleeing nazi Germany as refugees of war, coming to America for safety and the opportunity to thrive without fear. I’ve felt the pain of my patients, fearing ridicule and reprimand for their misunderstood mental illness. These experiences have molded me into the warrior I am. I don’t expect change; I demand it. 4. Lastly, allow me to address the context in which the term “snowflake” is consistently used. I love a good debate, and I never hesitate to express my opinion, both on social media and IRL. If you oppose my viewpoints, and have a solid argument to back it up, I will give credit where credit is due. Diversity of opinion and thought process is one of the things I cherish most about human interaction, and listening to opposing arguments drives me to challenge my own views. Those debates are not the ones that end up pulling the snowflake card, however. It’s always the uneducated idiots, regurgitating some bullshit meme or misinformed post they saw on Facebook, feeling threatened because the facts I provide challenge the reality they’ve been fed. I’ve verbally backed them into a corner, and their only escape is to dismiss me as a label they don’t truly understand the meaning of. You know who fits the description of a snowflake? Our POTUS, fearless leader of this great nation. He tweets bitterly about all who oppose him. SNL is terrible because they broadcast a parody of him. The media is slanderous and biased when they publish information that makes him look bad. Voting booths were compromised because they reflected the record breaking popular vote that was not in his favor. Whine, bitch, complain, but I’m the snowflake? I hear numerous cries of “get over it,” while the same people cried for the last 8 years about how Obama was destroying their country. No one called you a snowflake, or told you to shut up and get over it. Yet, when a man who has publicly mocked a disabled person, disrespected our POWs, called Mexican immigrants rapists and criminals, made numerous public calls for violence against those who oppose him during his campaign rallies, and fueled his election on hate and fear, provokes anger and protest amongst the American people, we should all sit down and shut up??! I, for one, will not quiet my voice. I will not stand idly by, and allow my country, my fellow Americans to be trampled on by this egomaniacal sociopath. I am not a snowflake. I am part of the blizzard of opposition that will wipe this country clean of hate, fear, and injustice.

#revolution notmypresident fucktrump

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