Wielding the stick of grandmotherly kindness. (She/Her) Requests for money or fundraiser reblogs in my Asks will be reported as spam. If you actually know me and genuinely need help, you already know how to get ahold of me, and if we know each other well enough that a financial transaction is appropriate.
Kinda gotta admire the tiktok instagram cottagecore tradwife hoes a little bit.
Like. THEY know that the perfect pretty obedient natural-makeup gently-coiffed rural June Cleaver, barefoot-and-pregnant in a sweet little peasant dress, baking fresh bread24-7 housewife doesn’t exist.
They KNOW she doesn’t exist. They know she CAN’T exist- that nobody can maintain that façade without burning out eventually-
but they also know that the political divide between men and women is deeper than ever in North America, that men as a demographic are getting increasingly angry and conservative and lonely (fuck off terfs and radfems i can sense your bioessentialism coming), and that women aren’t legally beholden to them anymore.
This is one of the first generations in North America where women aren’t entirely reliant on finding a husband and keeping him happy to survive, to hold a bank account or live apart from their parents, and so what men are dealing with is several hundred years of being told that REAL men have hot fuckable agreeable wives and…a present reality where nobody is lining up to apply for that position.
So what these shills have done- and they ARE shills- is that they’ve seen that divide, that niche that isn’t being filled, that role that’s so unpleasant but so desired- and they’ve constructed a caricature for profit.
Women aren’t naturally more gentle, or parental, or submissive. Women aren’t naturally, effortlessly smooth and soft and hairless and desiring of simple tasks to fill their time and a big, strong provider to protect them.
But generations of marketing and media have told us it’s POSSIBLE, if not for those pesky man-hating feminist libs and their oversensitive woke culture lashing out at Normal Folks for no good reason.
Like- they’re selling themselves, the characters they’re playing, as an IMAGE, as a FANTASY, and they rely on people BELIEVING in that fantasy to keep the money rolling in.
The people who buy into it sincerely, the women who give up their degrees and careers and financial freedom for this “simple, peaceful life” we ALL desire in some form, away from stress and technology and horrible things on the news… only to get trapped with six children and a partner with all the power who could up and strand them at any moment… they’re just collateral.
Like, “Shame it didn’t work out for you, have you tried losing weight and trying harder? Maybe some extra Adult Time? He wouldn’t have to chase someone younger and prettier if you’d just take care of yourself and put out more.”
I on’t hate this faux-humble faux-simple wannabe-amish bullshit just because I grew up rural and know it’s fucking stupid, hard work and blood and shit and cow piss and placement in the rain kinda crap.
I ALSO hate it because these women are straight-up class traitors, selling off not just their own image as people, but everyone else’s, just to make some paper on a grift.
You know Marie Antoinette used to wear sweet little milkmaid-style dresses and play with lambs in the field, just like the poors?
Never mind that she OWNED the land, and the field, and the people, the cute little frocks, and didn’t help the sheep birth, or bury the dead premies, or slaughter for meat, or fight off wolves and dogs, ferrets and foxes and rats with a stick in the winter.
It was just fashionable to pretend.
Sweet and coquettish and Quaint.
THAT is why I hate that shit, and THAT is why I give a fuck.
As a gardening educator, this bullshit is one of the fastest ways to really get me angry.
Garden influencers, tradwife Instagrammers and the like will put up a video of themselves planting beefsteak tomatoes in a cute one-gallon pot and insist you can get big, healthy tomatoes in your kitchen in it. What you actually get is a starved, mineral-deficient plant that puts out two or three sour, spongy little fruits before dying. Tomatoes can be grown indoors, if you choose the right lighting; there are even varieties that can be grown in a single gallon of soil, if you choose the proper micro-dwarf. But that’s not what they’re selling, because what they are selling is lies.
And then when the stressed-out mom of three, the college girl who doesn’t ever have quite enough to eat, the woman who’s just getting out of a fractious divorce and wants to see something flourish under her hands tries it out, they fail. Because they were always going to fail, because it’s not possible to be successful at the lie they were sold.
But they think that the failure is their fault, and don’t realize that they were lied to.
And then they think well, it must just be that I’m really bad at this. I shouldn’t have tried gardening. I should have known better.
And then they quit.
These influencers steal a lot in their scrabbling for money. They take away people’s confidence, and happiness, and willingness to try new things.
one time this nondescript guy came into my dunkin donuts and ordered a small black coffee with blueberry flavor shot, and for some reason that peculiar order stuck with me so much that when, seven months later, i saw him in the parking lot walking towards the door, i quickly made a small black coffee with blueberry flavor shot. he ordered it and i was already holding it.
i would describe his demeanor that second time as “incredulous”
What the fuck who drinks that
it’s such a perfectly bonkers order because like, most unusual orders are maximalist and sugary but this one just combines the most basic drink with the most incongruous little add-on. it’s the order of a simple, regular man who has something wrong with him
this post always makes me laugh. this guy has the weirdest drink order and he probably never goes to this dunkin’ if it took seven months for the barista to see him again. so think about a coffee shop you go to so little you’re not even sure if you’ve gone there before and you walk in and the barista hands you the drink you were about to order before you even ordered it. he will remember that for the rest of his life
“it’s the order of a simple, regular man who has something wrong with him” gets me every time.
Coming out of my extremely-prolonged social media silence here to address my fellow men, here. This public post is aimed at anyone and everyone who identifies as a man, uses masculine pronouns. ‘Cause, fair or unfair, there’s a bit of a societal responsibility that comes with that designation.
Gentlemen, the Guys With Microphones (and their popular YouTube channels and their rural radio stations) kinda won the day, here. Their arrogance and their swagger and their braying about being “the real victims here” really resonated with a LOT of people, it seems. 50-year old incels who constantly post lengthy “coaching” screeds about why Real Men™ should only date teenage girls (and shouldn’t use birth control), are feeling extremely validated. They’ve been creating an absolute din and they’re only going to be emboldened to get even louder and more dangerous.
WE have a responsibility to stop this unleashed misogyny. And no, I don’t mean grab our always-at-the-ready pitchforks and torches and go administer some righteous mob justice. That’s too easy. I mean detecting this incel/abusive behaviour EARLY from our fellow males, and challenging it. Right then and there. Regardless of who he is or his perceived status or if other guys in earshot are cheering him on. THAT’s the scarier part, the part of the task that’s going to require some actual courage. It’s one thing to pile onto an anonymous comment thread that’s making fun of some self-declared “alpha” loser with pimples and a MAGA hat. It’s quite another to firmly call out that affable co-worker that everyone likes, or Director Bob, or Pastor Jim. Or Athlete Stu or Officer Brett or good old Veteran Mike. Or Landlord Hal.
Or CEO Charlie.
But that IS our responsibility. Keep your eyes and ears open and SHUT THAT S**T DOWN. Decisively. A look of disgust and an unmistakable “Dude, did you REALLY just say that? What are you, five?” challenge. Or a clear-as-vodka “Not cool, man. You sound like a freakin’ pedo, what’s wrong with you?” Or a revolted “Christ, do you talk like that in front of your customers? I’m surprised you still have any.” Or just plain “You talk about other people’s genitals a LOT, like, a WHOLE lot, do you know that?” Play the 'ol public embarrassment card …knowing full well it may swiftly reverse-Uno back on your gallant well-intentioned ass and leave you standing alone in a roomful of self-righteously angry dudes whose confidence just got pricked. Actions such as these DO paint a target upon one’s back.
And oh yeah, don’t expect thanks or praise from any of the women in your life; there’s a very good reason most of them have by now cheerfully chosen the bear. (And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m referring to, there.) Stop this threat BEFORE it turns into a crime and just accept that as its own reward. Suffocate these predators in their crib, so to speak, even if you’re the only one that knows anything was even done. That gushy “How can I EVER repay you?” fictional trope is just that: fiction. (If we MUST invoke fiction, then at the very least be like Doctor Who or Spider-Man: save the day and clear out.)
So to restate the premise: I need to hear from my fellow men, here. The ones the media is falling all over themselves to apologize and pander to for “neglecting” and “marginalizing.” All of the women in my orbit have already made their thoughts ABUNDANTLY clear about all of this; they are now taking the next appropriate steps, and they are 100% right to do so. Leave them be; they’ve enough to deal with. I’m interested to know what YOU are going to do, in your societal role as men, to help in all of this.
The last three digits of your current follower count is the Dewey Decimal Classification subject on which you must immediately give a 15-minute presentation.
Literatures of Italian, Dalmatian, Romanian, Rhaetian, Sardinian, Corsican languages
I would perish instantly
Certified Library Post
ooooh my god so first of all i was a sociology major and my senior thesis was titled “Identity and the Internet” and was about how people project and manage identity and build communities online and second this subject is, like, literally my career. lmao.
Aww I wanted to give an impromptu essay.
502 is Science: Miscellany
Which is great for two reasons: a) I have a great big trivia brain and I love science, and b) I have already decided that, should I ever perform Burlesque, my performer name is
I think it would be really fucking funny to write a piece of fiction set entirely in real life but using lazy fantasy worldbuilding talk. I gather coin* for the road west** - I will need it to enter the Capital.***
* two quarters and two dimes
** Interstate 64
*** Richmond, Virginia
I must traverse the treacherous way north* to visit my lover at their place of learning. This city is a crossroads, positioned near the boundary point of a dark land we try not to visit.** It is an ancient place, riddled with the memory of the War.***
* Interstate 95
** Northern Virginia
*** American Civil
The road north is blocked by enemy forces.* I fear we will be overpowered if we continue,** and never reach our destination.*** Let us abandon the road and take the ancient mountain pass.**** We will mind the cruel structures of bygone years***** as you go.
* northern virginians
** get vehicular manslaughtered by a tesla driver just outside the mixing bowl
*** west maryland
**** cut through loudon county
***** mcmansions
OP, you from Fredericksburg? (Like awhile ago, cause there ain’t been no tolls on 64 for a few decades now…)
Remember: you cannot fix everything. If you try, you will spread yourself too thin and burn yourself out. Pick one or two things to devote yourself to. Someone else will pick the other things, and together we will carry it all.
not normie enough to fit in but not fringe enough to lean into being a freak, worst of both worlds, pure liminality, just the weird coworker, and unrelatable classmate. and your mutual
Who else in their twenties still uses the knuckles trick to tell which months are longer and which are shorter?
I’m over 50 and still do it?
I’ve over fifty and had to look it up…
It’s pretty nifty. I like it!
I’d like some help if anyone is willing.
A gentleman who works in my apartment building is deaf. He’s kind and friendly and I’d like to be able to, like, ya know, SPEAK to him beyond signing “Hi” and “Thank you.”
Does anyone know of any good online resources to learn ASL? Free is nice, but this is worth paying for, too.
