Had a dream I met Woody Allen in a pool because he was introducing me to a visionary filmmaker who was actually a small shark. But the guy was sick and needed help breathing and as things continued I realized I was dragging this dead shark in circles on a leash not quite sure if I was being put on or I had accidentally killed his friend.
roddenberry was just an engine for connecting campy high-concept sci-fi scripts to period-appropriate beefcake
It’s not just sexual - before the show accidentally pioneered fandomdom and started crawling up its own canon, the idea was kind of a stock troupe onto which any conceivable SF plot could be projected, from thinky to swashbuckling.
Into I think the Voyager era, the Trek franchises were the only shows left that would actually buy and film unsolicited spec scripts and pitches, decades after the practice fell out of general favor and the staff writers would do every episode (except 1 per season per WGA rules, which is usually rewritten to the point of unrecognizability - neo-BSG didn’t have the time or budget to, which I think was where those weird left-field episodes like Apollo’s secret prostitute family came from)
Gentle women and wild animals are linked in myth and fable, fashion photography and pornography, pulp art and fine art; men hunt wild animals, and women cuddle them
The centerpiece of Blackfish, a new documentary film about killer whales in captivity, is the gruesome death of SeaWorld trainer Dawn Brancheau. In 2010, Dawn was killed by Tilikum, a six-ton bull orca. The film does not include footage from what has been termed the “death tape,” but it does scan Dawn’s autopsy report, which dryly states that the 40-year-old female suffered numerous abrasions, dislocations, a broken back and jaw, hemorrhaging at multiple sites, and eventual death by suffocation. Her right arm was missing, and she was scalped. The time of death was some 30 minutes before Tilikum relinquished Dawn’s mutilated body.
Dawn was one of SeaWorld’s most experienced and respected trainers, and she had a reputation for strictly following safety protocols. Working with whales was a childhood dream; her family remembers the day she joined SeaWorld, at age twenty-three, as the happiest day of her life. A former student body president and homecoming queen with a gleaming smile, Dawn was also SeaWorld’s public face, appearing as a game show contestant, and on commercials, billboards, and murals. “She was beautiful, blonde, athletic, friendly,” one colleague remembers. “She captured what it means to be a SeaWorld trainer.”
Time travel has captured the public imagination for much of the past century, but little has been done to actually search for time travelers. Here, three implementations of Internet searches for time travelers are described, all seeking a prescient mention of information not previously available. The first search covered prescient content placed on the Internet, highlighted by a comprehensive search for specific terms in tweets on Twitter. The second search examined prescient inquiries submitted to a search engine, highlighted by a comprehensive search for specific search terms submitted to a popular astronomy web site. The third search involved a request for a direct Internet communication, either by email or tweet, pre-dating to the time of the inquiry. Given practical verifiability concerns, only time travelers from the future were investigated. No time travelers were discovered. Although these negative results do not disprove time travel, given the great reach of the Internet, this search is perhaps the most comprehensive to date
Yeah I wore a skirt or dress a few times in middle school. Probably not self-aware enough at the time to unpack what I meant by it.
In the end I realized that without projecting tits or hips nothing draped right, that elegantly flowy men’s clothing exists but it drapes from the shoulders - robes, cloaks, trench and longcoats.
I didn’t get any of that because of I guess subcultural identity stuff, which I guess was kind of presumptuous coming from someone who literally worked at a renaissance faire, owned mall swords and wall scrolls, played CCGs weekly, and mostly wore fucking sweatpants. I did appreciate the flowiness of wide-leg raver pants later. (now I wear BDU pants, which I got for a Halloween costume and discovered were the best ever ).
Kilts are goddamn ridiculous and I still can’t believe they’re an actual thing here in Cascadia, though I can’t quite tell if anyone actually likes the way they look or if it’s just cognate with the Viking/pirate/steampunk victoriana thing as the sartorial branch of the way we launder and express our white pride as romantically historicized NW European specificity.
Though doubling back again and throwing in kente cloth dashikis, and maybe even Arab robes, ethnic pride might just serve as a good excuse for men to walk around in pretty flowy clothes.
Papers released to the National Archives reveal that in 1984 the prime minister made preparations to use troops to move coal to power stations. Full story.
- The Guardian, 3 January 2014.
Well yes but the headline’s a little misleading, it’s like how Reagan used military air traffic controllers to fill in after he broke PATCO, or how a Labor government in ‘77 (and again in ‘02!) used military “Green Goddesses” to cover for firefighters’ strikes.
Though I shouldn’t get pissy about taking advantage of slow news days to do public history.
I’ve been trying to eat more protein and operating on the assumption that existing cuisines are guaranteed to be at least functional I’ve been using bacon and pork in southern (us and chinese) ways but these headaches are reminding me those cultures lost a lot of salt to sweat.
