I was reading Kate Beaton’s cartoon about political cartoons and how crap they are. And then I saw this on the internet, and thought it exemplified the point perfectly.
WHAT CAN IT MEAN?
I remember when my sister first started using the word ‘sophistry’ and I didn’t know what it meant. Sophistry is a good word to scaffold your shoulders; it helps elevate you from your uncouth, childish peers and affords you a certain sophisticated élan. Plus, it sounds a bit like the word ‘sophisticated’ so it must be cool.
I remember hearing her saying it and thinking that I needed to look it up, because I knew if I was able to locate just one instance of her using it incorrectly, the edifice would fall and we could send that word back from wherever it came from. Sisters are not nice at this age, there is a marking and demarking of lines, teenage sisterhood is a lot like trench warfare. Especially when you are lobbing cans of Silvikrin mousse at each other from your bedroom doorway. It was me that did most of the lobbing though, I remember being told off for ‘resorting to violence’.
The thing about ‘resorting to violence’ when you are a teenager (and have almost no control over yourself) is that you are not ‘resorting’ to violence. You are choosing the only option you believe available; the only other one being to ‘simmer down’ which is not going to happen this side of your hormones; leaking wilfulness as they are. I was not going to ‘simmer down’ – a favourite expression of my father – because I was not in a rational state of being. There was no thought. Angry: saw mousse, threw mousse. At head.
[I wrote this after seeing someone use the word ‘sophistry’ in the Guardian comments and thinking ‘Awwww’.]
New York skyline watercolour painting.
oh. oh beautiful. beautiful!
that is what i said out loud when I saw this.
Teach is Tired, Teach is Enervated
There are times when teaching is extraordinarily frustrating; you think, ‘If I see one more educational acronym or hear one more person say ‘holistic’ I will hit something, probably myself, because that is what is right and proper.’
And then you are gifted students who start their own company, who are creative and funny; who GRAFT like mofos, and who are capable of making two whole music videos in ONE EFFING DAY - despite only having a week’s notice.
Love you, 11 out of 10 Collective. Thanks for my balloon.
When I was away - and because they are a funny sort of people - my Mum and Dad bought me this mug and put it in my house because I had survived an ENTIRE TERM of REAL ACTUAL TEACHING with proper lessons and my own year group and everything.
They knew I would find its very form wholly disgusting because they also know I only like wrong things when they are a particular kind of wrong, like the tray you can see in the background of this photo.
I love my parents but I have had to take an executive decision on spying an epithet up inside the mug’s bumhole. Or mughole, if you will.
I’m not having that shit in my house.
Slipped. Sorry MumanDad.
I’m in the middle of writing this song at the minute and I’m really proud of it so far. I’m feeling so motivated that I’m attempted to pull an all-nighter in the studio to work on it. Any tips, feedback, or any form of support would be greatly appreciated, and I’ll legit give you massive hugs and I’ll make you each a cup of hot chocolate.
Please ignore that I’ve called it “Rug Munch”, I haven’t got a name for it yet. Name suggestions?
One day when Tom Joy is earning a lot of money from his music writing I will point at him and go “I taught him once” and at that point everyone around me in the retirement community will say “Shut up, Roby, Countdown’s on” but I will KNOW.
7 notes / 120 plays
My Mum wrote the PTA pantomime when I was at primary school. My Dad played Mr. T.
He’s not black :|
Gretchen Mol is obviously wonderful in Boardwalk Empire - but there are moments when one is distracted by the clothes and I forget that the bad lady and all the bad mens are talking. Quite a few period dramas recently have done a terrible job with wardrobe and furnishings (Masters of Sex look to have used repro fabric for CURTAINS, which mine eyes COULD NOT BEAR, MAN), but Boardwalk Empire is consistently, gawpingly good. YUM.
Look-here Ms Chantelle Houghton, at a Workout with PURPOSE
I was researching some of the gobsmackingly lovely motorcycles that were used in WW1 when I came across this, from National Geographic magazine in April 1917. It shows the clerks of a New York department store doing exercises in their lunchbreak. On the roof.
What a breathtakingly odd time.