Gutes Bild.

Ahh the difference a flattering pose can make 💁🏼 I love seeing these photos on my feed as it reminds me that we allll have our best angles that we choose to share. The girls you see on Instagram don't walk around with one leg bent and one hip popped and flexed abs the whole time! I don't look like the right version in real life because who the hell stands like that in real life? But there's also nothing wrong with posting your most flattering angle, it's only human. After all, who wants to post that pic of your double chin? 🤷🏼‍♀️Constantly seeing the same carefully posed pic on my feed can get tiring, so it's always nice to see a crappy photo and think, "ohh hey, she's a bit like me" 🙂EDIT: kini is tagged folks!

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A video summarising all of my problems

worth a listen, start to finish. i know exactly one girl who doesn’t experience procrastination at all. she’s so fucking at peace and positive it’s unreal.

don’t have to agree with everything, but on the whole…the  man doesn’t half talk a lot of sense.

lovely limerick accent to help the medicine go down.

Pewdiepie – Hitler’s Henchman #1

You may or may not have heard of Youtube’s biggest star, Pewdiepie, getting axed by his network, Maker, or rather Disney, who bought Maker in 2014. The whole thing was triggered by a (paywalled) Wall Street Journal article, detailing how Pewdiepie had allegedly posted 9 videos containing anti-Semitic material, accompanied by a video in which they edited the offending passages together while playing sinister music in the background and spelling out their allegation in a text overlay. Anyone who had seen the original videos noticed pretty quickly that the WSJ had cherry-picked their way through many of the 9 videos, completely removing context. The most ironic example being probably the snippet of Pewds watching a Hitler speech in a Nazi-like uniform, which was taken from a video that Felix made criticising how the media took his jokes out of context – in this case, he was mockingly portraying the way media outlets see him, as a Nazi watching Hitler speeches on his computer. So the WSJ went right ahead, removed the context and voila – he wears a Nazi uniform and watches Hitler speeches!

But, fabrications aside, there are valid points to be made. Both sides are really missing opportunities here.

The WSJ and other outlets could be actually dismantling Felix’s jokes/attempts at humour, instead of fabricating anti-Semitism by cherry-picking bits and pieces without context. It’s like attacking Donald Trump for his hairstyle, rather than his policies. Or Hillary for her Star Trek pant suits, rather than her policies. There is enough “problematic” (god, I HATE that word) material of his that doesn’t even need to be edited in any way to make it appear controversial. Because, most of the time, Pewds’ humour isn’t exactly fine, cerebral satire, it’s shock humour, it riffs off using taboo imagery. Direction and aim are mostly hazy. His response videos to the media are mostly defensive, passive-aggressive and don’t come up with the most solid arguments. The WSJ and other outlets could write well thought-out articles about why they think it is unacceptable to joke about certain topics. They could make a case for what kind of race-, religion-, whatever-based humour is acceptable (many people have pointed to South Park), and when a line is crossed, in their opinion. Instead, they go for the headline and the cheap kill.

And Pewds on the other side could stretch his argument beyond “I’m not a racist, the mainstream media just hates me”, which is the main route he chose in his response video. He could try and make a case for free speech and the vital role humour plays there. He says he thinks people are free to make any joke they want, but he could certainly do with serving up some good arguments to support his point, if he actually wants to convince the other side and not just cater to his fans. But, to be honest, just like many of his jokes lack direction and finesse, so do most the videos in which he attempts to argue a certain point. He doesn’t really do well with building arguments and being consistent in his claims.

People like iDubbbz on the other hand do this a lot better. Coincidentally, iDubbbz latest Content Cop takes on Black Lives Matter supporter and story time youtuber Tana Mongeau, and the use of the word nigger. Or the N-Word, if you prefer. And iDubbbz manages to make a case for his side, pointing out flaws in Tana’s logic and inconsistencies in her past behaviour. Agree with him or not, he actually makes the effort or arguing his point. And sure, there are parts of his audience who might not understand his inflationary use of slurs and simply parrot him, without getting the point, but – how far is a creator responsible for what the audience does with their words? Is it their responsibility if people are too thick to understand their humour?

Which is the issue the WSJ and other outlets have taken with Felix’ crude use of Nazi imagery: The Daily Stormer seems to have decided that Pewdiepie is their guy in the mainstream media, holding high the legacy of Hitler, since, as they have decided, it doesn’t matter whether he actually believes these things, he’s giving anti-Semitism a stage and that’s good enough for them. Finding this out prompted Felix to publish a statement on his tumblr that he does not in fact support such groups, but too late – 2 days later, Disney backed out of their joint venture with him, and Youtube, caught in zugzwang, removed him from Google preferred, a premium tier of AdSense, and cancelled the release of the nearly completed second season of his Youtube Red show Scare Pewdiepie.

The WSJ triggered a PR chain reaction, nothing else. Because, what do you know: iDubbbz is actually signed to Maker. And he advocates the comical use of the word Nigger and has a channel chock-a-block with him mocking all races under the sun. And SJW. But he’s got 3 Million subs, not 53 – so Pewdiepie is made an example of, thrown under the bus to save Disney’s face. It’s a completely understandable business decision – but it’s presentation as morally motivated one is plain hypocrisy. Hitler is an ancient, ancient joke on Pewdiepie’s channel. Old Adolf has been cropping up for years, not just since August 2016. Although I have to admit that Pewdiepie only recently branched out into being a massive Edgelord, recycling old 4chan jokes such as paying people to say fucked up shit. That’s not to say Pewdiepie is doing a better job at being honest than the media – he is likewise scrambling to cover up his asshole and pointing fingers.

The accusatory articles backfired colossally – the audience and other YouTubers have stepped up on Felix’ behalf. Ethan of h3h3 even played his Jew card in defence of Felix. Amazingly, the WSJ and others really shot themselves in the foot, because, according to the old rule of ‘My enemies’ enemy is my friend’, alt-right groups now support Pewdiepie even more, as he’s suddenly turned into a poster boy for fighting against the liberal MSM – the abominable MainStreamMedia. The support other YouTubers and audience are offering is all well and good – but, in my opinion, most people are missing the point. A few articles outright called Pewdiepie an Anti-Semite or racist (WIRED later changed their headline to remove the „racist“ bit :P), but many just parroted the WSJ, saying that he uses anti-Semitism as comedy material, leading to him being adopted by right-wing groups – not denouncing Felix personally as a racist. So the defence “He’s got Jewish friends” doesn’t suffice. I think the whole thing hinges on how far comedy is allowed to go and the subjectivity of humour. The what, the why and the why-not.

As it goes, both Pewdiepie and the media could really do better. The two parties could debate like adults, there’s certainly enough actual material to go round for solid arguments on both sides, but instead they’re flinging shit at each other on the playground.

​Gequälte „Nein, Nein“ Schreie aus dem Wohnzimmer. Da scheint jemand schlecht gewürfelt zu haben. 

Lumbago – Sounds like the delicious cousin of Sangria, but it’s really not.

Well, well, well, what do juicy young 25-year-olds get up to on a Friday night, eh? What indeed. I’ve only gone and done my back in, haven’t I.

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It all happened around lunch time today. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up a little, picking up random bits of wrappers – “Right, in the bin you go”, I thought to myself, and bent down over the bin ever so slightly because I have little faith in my throwing abilities. Basketball was never my thing. And that’s when it happened. As I dropped the debris collected from the kitchen counter *cue slowmotion*, my back decided that this was an undue amount of strain to be subjected to and handed in its notice, effective immediately. Crrrck. Ouch. Pain, pain in my lower back. The pain I usually only get from standing & walking for extended periods of time. But this time, getting back up, even though I really hadn’t gone down much in the first place, wasn’t possible. So I just stood there, hunched over the bin as though I was getting ready to feast on its contents, wondering what I’d done to deserve this… this betrayal. Honestly. What a cunt-faced fucking backstabber, my so-called back, actually stabbing my back, stabbing itself, not having my back AT ALL. THANKS, M8.

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And all of this because I am a good flatmate, getting a bit of cleaning done. I got on with my job, squatting awkwardly to pick up the bin, get out the rubbish and put in a new bin liner. I actually got on with my chores, I wasn’t giving in to my stupid back. Also, my back pain wasn’t excruciatingly severe, it was just painfully (ehhh…) obvious that something was wrong, and that bending over really wasn’t a good idea. So I didn’t. Instead I picked up the bin bags like I wanted to win the Sumo Squat Championships. Bad back or doing the Casatchok? 90% of people get this wrong!

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Going down the stairs with 3 bin bags was equally uncomfortable, but not impossible. I even got groceries. Then I sat on my office chair watching Peep Show for a good bit. Sitting was actually quite ok. Then I figured I might give lying down a go. After 2 hours of my thrilling lying-down-in-bed-experiment had passed and I, to be frank, really needed to pee, I decided to get up. And that introduced a new problem: getting up was really the hardest part yet.
You see, I am a low-life bottom dweller of a student, so naturally, I make do without a bed frame. I have an expensive luxury mattress, I don’t need one. I’m also too cheap and who wants to have a bed frame to lug around when they need to move places.
But getting up from what is essentially the floor when you have (what I suspect to be) lumbago – it’s not happening. So I rolled over under a lot of huffing and puffing, because this now was sort of actually painful, and began my pathetic crawl towards the desk. I felt like I was impersonating a shot animal, dragging itself back to its cave. The strained breathing certainly fit the bill, but I guess animals don’t let out a string of expletives directed at the universe in general when they’ve taken a bullet. Finally at my desk, I hoisted myself up using my office chair, then the desk. Ah! Evolution in fast-forward. Only I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, because my gait certainly isn’t … fully erect. Right now, I’m roughly at the Homo Habilis stage.

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Ignore the hiatus bit, that’s me crawling.

Which brings us up to now: me, lying in bed again, on my belly this time, not on my back – because this way, I can get into my crawling position a lot easier. Just pop on my hands and knees and scuttle away. Really slow and pained scuttling.

They shoot horses, don’t they?

„Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it.“

Meet Alfred ‚Edgelord’* Housman, telling you to kys since 1895.

He’s probably just fucking with us on this one though. Ironic or not, suicide abounds in A Shropshire Lad, jolly good read before bedtime. 

I’m still wallowing, in Sherlock, in The Invention of Love, and now in OG Victorian Death Poetry. Ah. 

As the end of the semester draws near, term papers loom large once more, casting their monstrous shadows on my humble lodging’s walls. 

I really need to sleeeeeep. 

*Edward 

Sherlock Series 4 – AHHHH

If you haven’t watched the fourth series of Sherlock yet, don’t read on. I won’t go into too much detail, because I’m really just putting my helpless flailing into appropriately rambly word vomit, but you know – #spoilers and all that.

OK!

Now.

Episode 1
Didn’t like it much. Mary died. Boo-fuckin-hoo. Maybe it’s all the „internalised misogyny“ (greatest killer argument of all time), but I did not care much for that woman and I’m not sad if they actually did kill her off (I can’t even see her being really dead, this whole series has got me confused as fuck). I just couldn’t warm to the character because she never quit fit into the whole thing, nothing to do with her being a woman. All in all, the episode was too all over the shop for my liking, the case didn’t really ‚do it for me‘, as it were, and the dramatic death didn’t touch me emotionally. You cannot jump in front of a bullet that has already left the barrel. She might be a secret agent and what not, but she’s not the frickin Flash. It’s a fictional universe, I know, but I always felt like they liked to retain a certain degree of versimilitude in the show. Sooooo… It’s a no from me, boys.

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No, not good.

Episode 2
Oh boy. What a change of pace from that first episode! All of the action nicely concentrated in one place, no travelling all over the fucking globe only to end up with a dead Mary. No Mary. Goody. I’m beginning to sound like I hate Mary, but I just… what was the point of her. She caused some fantastically emotionally painful situations (the wedding…) that I actually fucking LIVED for, but in the grand scheme of things… meh. Anyway – I liked the episode, it was thrilling, it was sad , it had a villain, I was in Sherlock heaven. And to end on such a momentous cliffhanger! Will John survive? We begin with a smoking barrel, we end with a smoking barrel. A fade to fucking red. BLOODSHED. BLOOD BLOOD BLOODY BLOOD.

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Watch Blackadder. All the jokes, none of the pain.

Episode 3
„Hi it’s me, John, I was shot with a tranquiliser gun, still had 10 minutes left on my appointment, would you believe it? The cheek of it, anyway, let’s crack on“. Wat. I mean, they had me fooled, I completely forgot that when we left off the last time, John was about to bite the bullet. Most definitely. And, unlike certain other parties in the phandom (now that’s a Freudian slip, if I’ve ever seen one! Fandom… of course… Revealing my alliances, aren’t I), I enjoyed the ride. I was genuinely swept away by the thrill of it all. The scene with Molly nearly killed me. It was brilliantly written, acted, and tore out my heart. I’m a sucker for catharsis, in case you hadn’t noticed yet. I know, it’s terribly unfashionable and regressive, has Brecht taught me nothing, but give me wit & heartbreak and that’s me sold. But then there were those huge chunks missing, things didn’t add up. The explosion left them unscathed? And John being rescued like no big deal?

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But the glossing over the gun cliffhanger is definitely what has kept me mulling it over and over in my head. As tumblr investigation has shown, John was shot with a Walther PPK, not a tranq gun. I don’t know if those can be modded to shoot projectiles other than bullets, and I know it’s fictional universe, so why ever not, but… Ugh. UGH UGH UGH. Incidentally also the same type of gun used to put a hole in Mary! Of course, I only got this obsessed after taking to tumblr, where the Johnlockers were, and still are, in uproar. As I’ve said, I actually loved the episode and I am not crying over a lack of LGBT representation (That montage? Two guys raising a baby in a flat while also working on cases together? What more do you want?), but the gun, the gun, the gun. It doesn’t add up.

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So when I read the secret 4th episode theories I was sucked in immediately, if for different reasons. They’re waiting for John and Sherlock to get married (who cares, queer reading is a subversive act that needs no substantiation from the writers, if you ask me), I’m waiting for the plot holes to be filled. If those turn out to be the same thing, I won’t complain. I’m sounding awfully grand right now, when plot really isn’t my strong suit at all, because my capacity for logic is… eeehhhh. Limited. I’m not that astute at spotting inconsistencies. If I feel something truly madly deeply i(usually)dgaf if it doesn’t make sense.

Best illustration: Watched Interstellar at the cinema, I cried my eyes out, asked my bf what he thought of it afterwards, and he said „Good time travel paradox“. Wtf. Who gives a shit. I generally don’t even attempt to wrap my head around the sciency bits, because who needs them. I don’t. I need drama, I need emotion to feed on. My favourite (unauthorised) Sherlock merch is my pillow case of a crying Sherlock. I am a leech, I live on tears and tears alone.

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BUT! Not with that potentially last episode of Sherlock ever. Trying to pull the wool over our eyes. I gladly took that Molly scene and feasted on it, but this time – it’s not enough.

And I’m not supporting the TJLCers who are claiming that they are only reading all the purposefully left clues – because bitch, you ain’t. Your analysis leads to interpretation. Let’s not even speak of all the wild conjectures. Writing leads to construction. Which is not a bad thing, but don’t claim absolute objectivity in the name of your very active imagination. I’m aware that all this shit might be in my head, and my head alone.

Right now I’m thinking that the gun thing might be a secret cliffhanger, if they make a fifth series, they’ll deal with it, if they don’t, most people didn’t notice, so who cares. Or they can’t solve it, it’s simply a mistake, and we’ll have to live with it. Sometimes, there is no explanation. Sometimes, there is no need for one, because it’s not real.

Anyway, here’s what has been called the unofficial theme song for all those holding out for an explanation, in the form of a 4th episode or otherwise. Possibly losing hope.

Sigh. It’s The Rapture all over again.