h
occasionally subtle
taylor price
#extradirty
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
AnasAbdin
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
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oozey mess
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Cosmic Funnies
blake kathryn
tannertan36
cherry valley forever
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
seen from Canada
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@arilovesillie
Iconic Kingdom Hearts Moment™: Xigbar in KH3D saying “let’s hit these plot points in order" in a game that hits absolutely no plot points in order whatsoever, and proceeding to talk his way through a cutscene throwing all other plot points, some of which are established in other games altogether, out of order
BIG DISCLAIMER: i was 9 when 9/11 happened, so this might be more about my own crystalizing tastes than anything else. i think it’s a pretty darn good theory tho and other people have validated it.
BIGGER DISCLAIMER: i am not saying that country music prior to 9/11 was free from nationalist, racist, misogynist undertones - i just think that these themes became more the norm!
MY HOT TAKE:
with very few exceptions, including goodbye earl, before he cheats, and daddy Iessons (side note - all women!) 9/11 ruined country music. around 2014 onward we’ve got margo price, sturgill simpson, jason isbell etc., who are making country music great again (wink), but those folks are mostly considered “alternative” country. the mainstream country music for well over a decade now is a glut of trash performative patriotic / working-class-but-not-really lab-crafted budweiser-sponsored nonsense that has managed to sound rebellious (or has convinced its fans that it sounds rebellious) without ever actually questioning any power structure. so much so that artists who ACTUALLY criticized the government were literally blacklisted for nearly a decade (the dixie chicks)
pre-9/11 country music, though not perfect or ideologically pure by any stretch, did not have the raging american flag painted truck boner that comes to mind for a lot of people who say “i like everything except rap and country”
SPECIFICALLY, toby keith’s “courtesy of the red, white, and blue (the angry american)” (2002) literally destroyed country music. it was a direct answer to the 9/11 attacks and war song in support of the invasion of afghanistan. the lyrics read like a disjointed feverish email chain letter forwarded from your great uncle sprinkled with glittering american flag gifs and heavily saturated pictures of bald eagles. the entire song is lifted from an estimated 248 peeling bumper stickers collected from rusted trucks on cinder blocks in overgrown yards, cut up and arranged to fit a catchy, formulaic tune that is almost certainly the background music playing in george w. bush’s head at all times.
“we’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the american way and uncle sam put your name at the top of his list and the statue of liberty started shakin’ her fist and the eagle will fly, and it’s gonna be hell, when you hear mother freedom start a'ringin’ her bell”
country music and the new country musicians that toby keith paved the way for became so pro establishment and so unquestioningly nationalistic that, again, the dixie chicks who went against this grain were blacklisted by the industry and received death threats from country music fans. hell, there are folks who STILL froth at the mouth at the mere mention of the dixie chicks.
9/11 killed outlaw country - how can you sing the praises of law breakers when your main circuit consists of singing to troops? there are some great classic country songs critiquing the police state - especially from johnny cash and merle haggard - now country music artists hold fundraisers for FOPs. new country music is basically in-law country music.
you don’t have to write a pro-bush patriotic anthem to be part of this post-9/11 ruination. playing meaningless songs about living in the heart of (read: white) america, eschewing the city (read: not white), and cracking open a cold one with the boys for “authentic” country music is also important to the war effort.
there’s a progression of themes here:
post 9/11 top tier: war anthem, vocally patriotic, directly used as pro war propaganda; which paved the way for: “things used to be so much better” thinly veiled racist laments, good for campaign ads; which paved the way for meaningless party anthems - attempts to make things “like they used to be” and craft a reality that neither the artist nor listener likely ever experience.
that brings us to what most people think of today when they say they hate country music: the country party anthem - “tiny hot gal in tight jean shorts who can drink beer like the guys, she doesn’t like beyoncé Like Other Girls, oh she’s so into me and my truck, i’m gonna take her fishing after i finish sowing my corn - sung by a guy who’s never touched a tractor” - has overtaken the tragic, done me wrong, despairing country ballads of tammy wynette, george jones, and even up into pre-9/11 contemporaries like reba mcentire and george strait. you didn’t necessarily have to be country to relate to their pain. now you have to perform suburban redneckness to enjoy luke bryan.
when was the last time you heard a sad country song?
after 9/11, cowboys (whether or not they had ever been near a cow) weren’t allowed to be sad anymore (no more done me wrong country), and they certainly weren’t allowed to question authority (no more outlaw country). partying hardy became the most important American Thing and if you don’t sing about that, our Enemies Will Win.
so - understanding that country music has always had bad stuff, and that like any genre it suffers from commercialization, 9/11 DESTROYED COUNTRY MUSIC. and toby keith gleefully helped destroy it.
for some further evidence of the decline of country music, please listen to the dixie chicks’ “long time gone” which is an indictment of the industry (i believe it was written before 9/11 but my point still stands - the genre was on the decline and 9/11 was the major cultural event that hastened the decline).
maybe i am a curmudgeon - almost every generation of country music has had its own “country music is not what it used to be” anthem, but i really think something distinct happened with 9/11.
Can confirm. Alan Jackson and Toby Keith, the blacklisting of Dixie Chicks, literally the only singer I can think of that ever spoke out against anything from 2001-2010 was Johnny Cash. I’d also say that the uber-patriotic stance lead to the shiny, vapid County Boy® nonsense that lead to so many of the solo artists all sounding and looking the same.
Johnny cash wrote an entire album about the destruction of Indigenous lands and of Indigenous people, Kris Kristofferson has been an activist most of his career working closely with the UFM, Woody Guthrie was a social justice advocate and union activist, Dolly Parton has tackled explicitly feminist issues even in the 60s and has been an avid supporter of her lgbt fans, Willie Nelson made Farm Aid to try and help farmers in danger of losing their farms due to mortgages keep them and is also an avid supporter of LGBT rights as well as marijuana legalization, Lorettea Lynn wrote about birth control in the 70s and had her song banned, i could go on!
When in the correct hands, country music is a powerful medium, but post 9/11 it’s been handed off to apathetic white men who have turned it into the most useless genre of music out there.
I think about this post a lot for some reason.
Tiny dirty stray kitten hanging out at the bottom of our stairs since yesterday. There are a lot of self-reliant ferals around our apartment, but this little thing was dirty & covered in burrs. We gave it some chicken but couldn’t catch it. I think it may have wandered over from the outdoor cat hoarder colony down the street; that house is awful & we saw kittens there last week.
This morning the downstairs neighbor managed to grab it for us, and I put it on this cozy towel & started combing and picking the burrs & sticks out of its fur. It calmed down immediately and has been chilling here with me in the kitchen ever since. Got a vet appointment in an hour to get my little buddy cleaned up & checked out. I hope it isn’t too sick; I think it might have a cold.
If we can, we are probably going to keep her.
What a difference a day makes! Took this little guy to the vet, got the fleas and dirt washed off him, got some antibiotics for a slight cold, but he is otherwise fine. Kneading and purring up a storm, eating a lot and being heart-crushingly adorable.
We have named this glorious creature Nux.
A little over a month later and Nux is growing into a very long and floppy shoulder cat!
Oh my god!!!!
i’m so happy for this cat i hope nux knows im proud of him
I just told him!
the thing you need to realize about localization is that japanese and english are such vastly different languages that a straight translation is always going to be worse than the original script. nuance is going to be lost and, if you give a shit about your job, you should fill the gaps left with equivalent nuance in english. take ff6, my personal favorite localization of all time: in the original japanese cefca was memorable primarily for his manic, childish speaking style - but since english speaking styles arent nearly as expressive, woolsey adapted that by making the localized english kefka much more prone to making outright jokes. cefca/kefka is beloved in both regions as a result - hell, hes even more popular here
yes this
a literal translation is an inaccurate translation.
localization’s job is to create a meaningful experience for a different audience which has a different language and different culture. they translate ideas and concepts, not words and sentences. often this means choosing new ideas that will be more meaningful and contribute to the experience more for a different audience.
There was an example during late Tokugawa period in Japan where the translator translated, "Я люблю Вас” (I love you), to “I could die for you,” while translating Ася, ( Asya) a novel by Ivan Turgenev. This was because a woman saying, “I love you,” to a man was considered a very hard thing to do in Japanese society.
In a more well-known example, Natsume Soseki, a great writer who wrote, I am a Cat, had his students translate “I love you,” to “the moon is beautiful [because of] having you beside tonight,” because Japanese men would not say such strong emotions right away. He said that it would be weird and Japanese men would have more elegance.
Both of these are great examples of localization that wasn’t a straight up translation and both of these are valid. I feel like a lot of people forget the nuances in language and culture and how damn hard a translator’s job is and how knowledgeable the person has to be about both cultures. [x]
Important stuff about translation!
Note that you can apply this to your own translations even if they aren’t big pieces of literature or something. Don’t feel bad about not translating word for word. An everyday sentence may sound odd translated literally - it’s okay to edit a little bit so it feels right!
Oh my god, I’m about to go on a ramble, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, the inner translation nerd is coming out. I’m so sorry. The thing is–there is actually no such thing as an accurate translation. It’s literally an impossible endeavor. Word for word doesn’t cut it. Sense for sense doesn’t cut it, because then you’re potentially missing cool stuff like context and nuance and rhyme and humor. Even localization doesn’t really cut it, because that means you’re prioritizing the audience over the author, and you’re missing out on the original context, and the possibility of bringing something new and exciting to your host language. Foreignization, which aims to replicate the rhythms of the original language, or to use terminology that will be unfamiliar to the target culture–(for example: the first few American-published Harry Potter books domesticated the English, and traded “trousers” for “pants”, and “Mom” for “Mum”. Later on they stopped, and let the American children view such foreignizing words as “snog” and “porridge.”)–also doesn’t cut it, because you risk alienating the target readers, or obscuring meaning. Another cool example is Dante, and the words written above the gates of hell: Abandon hope, all ye who enter here. In the original Italian, that’s Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate. Speranza, like most nouns in latinate languages, has a gender: la. Hope, in Italian, is gendered female. Abandon hope, who is female. Abandon hope, who is a woman. When the original Dante enters hell, searching for Beatrice, he is doomed, subtly, from the start. That’s beautiful, subtle, the kind of delicate poetic move literature nerds gorge themselves on, and you can’t keep it in English. Literally, how do you preserve it? We don’t have a gendered hope. It doesn’t work, can’t work. So how do you compensate? Can you sneak in a reference to Beatrice in a different line? Or do you chalk her up as a loss and move onto the next problem? You’re always going to miss something–the cool part is that, knowing you’re going to fail, you get to decide how to fail. Ortega y Gasset called this The Misery and Splendor of Translation. Basically, translation is impossible–so why not make it a beautiful failure? My point is that literary translation is creative writing, full of as many creative decisions as any original poem or short story. It has more limitations, rules, and structures to consider, for sure–but sometimes the best artistic decision is going to be the one that breaks the rules. My favorite breakdown of this is Le Ton Beau De Marot, a beautiful brick of a translator’s joke, in which the author tries over and over again to create a “perfect” translation of “A une Damoyselle Malade”, an itsy bitsy poem Clement Marot dashed off to his patron’s daughter, who was sick, in 1537. This is the poem: Ma mignonne, Je vous donne Le bon jour; Le séjour C’est prison. Guérison Recouvrez, Puis ouvrez Votre porte Et qu’on sorte Vitement, Car Clément Le vous mande. Va, friande De ta bouche, Qui se couche En danger Pour manger Confitures; Si tu dures Trop malade, Couleur fade Tu prendras, Et perdras L’embonpoint. Dieu te doint Santé bonne, Ma mignonne. Seems simple enough, right? But it’s got a huge host of challenges: the rhyme, the tone, the archaic language (if you’re translating something old, do you want it to sound old in the target language, too? or are you translating not just across language, but across time?) Le Ton Beau De Marot is a monster of a book that compiles all of Hofstader’s “failed” translations of Ma Mignonne, as well as the “failed” translations of his friends, and his students, and hundreds of strangers who were given the translation challenge (which you can play here, should you like!) The end result is a hilarious archive of Sweet Damosels, Malingering Ladies, Chickadees, Fairest Friends, and Cutie Pies. It’s the clearest, funniest, best example of what I think is true of all literary translations: that they’re a thing you make up, not a thing you discover. There is no magic bridge between languages, or magic window, or magic vessel to pour the poem from one language to another–translation is always subjective, it’s always individual, it’s always inaccurate, it’s always a failure. It’s always, in other words, art. Which, as a translator, I find incredibly reassuring! You’re definitely, one hundred percent absolutely, gonna fuck up. Which means you can’t fuck up. You can take risks! You can experiment! You can do cool stuff like bilingual translations, or footnote translations! You write your own code of honor, your own rules that your translations will hold inviolable, and fuck it if that code doesn’t match everyone else’s*. The translations they hold inviolable are also flawed, are failures at the core, from the King James Bible right on down to No Fear Shakespeare. So have fun! It’s all in your hands, miseries and splendors both.
this in particular has bearing on more than just translation, but possibly in any adaptive or interpretative creative work:
knowing you’re going to fail, you get to decide how to fail
which is actually quite freeing, once you think about it
The Green Dragontail butterflies
Best quality: his wiggles!
IM SORRY, THIS IS ACTUALLY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL LITTLE CREATURE NATURE HAS TO OFFER?!!?!
@k-yers
bisexual culture is being very specific with the men you’re interested in but having absolutely no type when it comes to girls because they’re all so beautiful
This is my favorite SNL sketch, and it is always so hard to find because it was cut out of the reruns for whatever reason. But it’s so funny. I will never not think this sketch is funny.
this is so fucking funny also ive been singing ‘aint nothin cuter than a bad country baby eatin peaches off a hardwood floor’ since last night
I’m Dana Jean Harley
@directium
HAYLEY HERE IT IS OH MY GOD FINALLY IT’S BACK
every single negative stereotype about women was dreamt up by men who were projecting. fight me about it.
“women can’t drive”
It is so well known that women are better and safer drivers than men that OUR CAR INSURANCE RATES ARE LOWER. Women get into fewer accidents, get fewer DUIs, and receive fewer speeding tickets than men.
“women never shut up”
Several scientific studies have shown that not only do men talk more than women, they also think that women have been talking for much longer than they actually have. Men interrupt and talk over women, dominate conversations, and still think women talk too much.
“women are shallow”
Lol next
“my wife is my ball and chain lmao”
Multiple studies have shown that marriage between men and women: Increases male lifespan, decreases female lifespan Decreases male depression rates, increases female depression rates Decreases male stress levels, increases female stress levels Increases male health and happiness, decreases female health and happiness Increases a man’s chance of getting a raise or promotion, decreases a woman’s chances of getting a raise or promotion
“women are too emotional”
Men love to say this about women after hurting them, in order to shift the blame and dismiss their feelings in one go. In reality, women are taught to hold our tongues and control ourselves quite literally from birth. We’re taught to put men’s needs and wants ahead of our own emotions regardless of the personal cost. Men are taught to do more or less whatever the fuck they want to women. Men take their emotions out on women while women are expected to shove theirs down.
I could go on and on but I don’t really think I need to.
“women can’t drive” (The Guardian) (CBS News) (Insurance Institute for Highway Safety)
“women talk to much” (PBS, resources included)
“women are shallow” (just read the book, Dataclysm. by okcupid founder (?) that includes data about sex, gender, race, in finding online romantic partners)
“ball and chain” (University of London)
for all you pissbabies crying about sources
Nicolas Cage Breaks Down His Most Iconic Characters | GQ
his first time at the beach and………… 😭💦
Oooh noooooo
why are star wars planets more boring than earth and our solar system like sure we’ve seen desert, snow, diff types of forest, beach, lava, rain, but like…
rainbow mountains (peru)
red soil (canada/PEI)
rings (saturn’s if they were on earth)
bioluminescent waves
northern lights (canada)
salt flats (bolivia, where they filmed crait but did NOTHING COOL WITH IT except red dust?? like??? come ON)
and cool fauna like the touch me not or like, you know, the venus flytrap.. and don’t get me started on BUGS like… we have bugs cooler than sw aliens
BASICALLY like???? come on star wars you had one (1) job where are the cool alien species
I KNOW!! I did a report on filming locations in Star Wars last year and just made a list of places that looked so surreal they could make a convincing other planet. You covered some on my list but if I could just add a couple more:
Tsingy di Bemaraha, Madagascar
Zhangye Danxia, China (similar to the Rainbow Mountains in terms of appearance)
Chocolate Hills, Philippines
Giant’s Causeway, Northern Ireland
So many missed opportunities with cool ass things on Earth, Lucasfilms smh…
Earth is effing amazing!
Quebrada de Humahuaca, Argentina
Lake Retba, Senegal
Tepui, Venezuela
Tianzi Mountains, China
these would make amazing Star Wars planets OR fantasy material:
Tsingy du Bemaraha, Madagascar again (but a different part)
(those are razor-sharp, if you were wondering. very little of this area has been explored because YIKES)
Lake Natron, Tanzania
(looks cool, but is alkaline enough to Kill Your Shit)
Lake Baikal, Russia
(the deepest lake in the world, seriously)
and I’ll wrap it up with Son Doong Cave, Vietnam, the largest cave in the entire world.
it puts anything Dagobah has to offer to absolute shame:
(seriously, the largest chamber is 660 feet high. you could jam a fucking skyscraper in there and still lose it)
anyway I really like caves thanks for coming to my ted talk
Vogue Actually Printed This Crazy Diet In The 1970s
I miss my cat so much
Don’t ask someone with dementia if they “know your name” or “remember you”
If I can, I always opt to ditch my name tag in a dementia care environment. I let my friends with dementia decide what my name is: I’ve been Susan, Gwendolyn, and various peoples’ kids. I’ve been so many identities to my residents, too: a coworker, a boss, a student, a sibling, a friend from home, and more.
Don’t ask your friend with dementia if they “remember your name” — especially if that person is your parent, spouse, or other family member. It’s quite likely to embarrass them if they can’t place you, and, frankly, it doesn’t really matter what your name is. What matters is how they feel about you.
Here’s my absolute favorite story about what I call, “Timeline Confusion”:
Alicia danced down the hallway, both hands steadily on her walker. She moved her hips from side to side, singing a little song, and smiled at everyone she passed. Her son, Nick, was walking next to her.
Nick was probably one of the best caregivers I’d ever met. It wasn’t just that he visited his mother often, it was how he visited her. He was patient and kind—really, he just understood dementia care. He got it.
Alicia was what I like to call, “pleasantly confused.” She thought it was a different year than it was, liked to sing and dance, and generally enjoyed her life.
One day, I approached the pair as they walked quietly down the hall. Alicia smiled and nodded at everyone she passed, sometimes whispering a, “How do you do!”
“Hey, Alicia,” I said. “We’re having a piano player come in to sing and play music for us. Would you like to come listen?”
“Ah, yes!” she smiled back. “My husband is a great singer,” she said, motioning to her son.
Nick smiled and did not correct her. He put his hand gently on her shoulder and said to me, “We’ll be over there soon.”
I saw Nick again a few minutes later while his mom was occupied with some other residents. “Nick,” I said. “Does your mom usually think that you’re her husband?”
Nick said something that I’ll never forget.
“Sometimes I’m me, sometimes I’m my brother, sometimes I’m my dad, and sometimes I’m just a friend. But she always knows that she loves me,” he smiled.
Nick had nailed it. He understood that, because his mom thought it was 1960, she would have trouble placing him on a timeline.
He knew that his mom recognized him and he knew that she loved him. However, because of her dementia, she thought it was a different year. And, in that year, he would’ve been a teenager.
Using context clues (however mixed up the clues were) Alicia had determined that Nick was her husband: he was the right age, he sure sounded and looked like her husband, and she believed that her son was a young man.
This is the concept that I like to call timeline confusion. It’s not that your loved one doesn’t recognize you, it’s that they can’t place you on a timeline.
What matters is how they feel about you. Not your name or your exact identity.
THIS. sometimes ole miss thinks i’m her son, or her husband, or her cousin bill or her friend kathi, and once she called me “mommy.” doesn’t matter. she knows i’m someone who cares about her.
when my grandmother developed dementia, she took to calling me ‘virginia’. she had gone to a time in her mind when long red hair did not mean her metalhead grandson, it meant her eldest son’s fiancee. she gave me a lot of advice for how to keep my head and my temper with young leo, who could be a handful but was a gem if you didn’t let him push you. “i know you’re a firecracker, ginger,” she’d tell me, “but don’t make a fight out of it. just hear him out and then make your own decision. he respects that.”
i didn’t correct her on my gender or the year or my name. i didn’t tell her that virginia and leo had been married forty years and were doing fine; i thought that might reassure her, but then, it might just throw her for a loop, so i kept it to myself. i kind of wanted to tell her leo had been an excellent mentor to me and she’d taught him well, but i figured i could save that for a better opportunity. (as it happened, i didn’t get the chance, but i think she knew she did a good job.)
i just understood that she saw me as a young person she wanted to teach and look out for, and maybe a person whose agency she wanted to validate despite society trying to squash it.
so i listened to her advice and thanked her, and told her i’d think on it, and she was happy. and i did think on it, too, and it helped me in my relationship with seebs.
people with dementia are still themselves. they’re not clear on the details, but they still love and care and have things to teach.
please listen to this poor man losing his shit as he reads an article blaming millenials for killing the mayonnaise industry that was written by a babyboomer upset people don’t want to eat her bland salads anymore
I’ve been told by @lucyaudley that this is satire. That’s possible. The author’s tweet advertising it does seem to be tongue in cheek: “First they came for our cubicles. Then they gutted golf. But now they’ve gone too far. How millennials murdered mayonnaise.“
On the other hand, it was published, not in the humor section of Philadelphia magazine, but in the food section; it’s tagged “food” and “millennials,” not “humor” or “satire”; and It’s similar in tone to a hell of a lot of over-the-top and completely serious articles that blame millennials for everything.
Reality, at the moment, seems to be imitating satire. So how do you know when a writer is being satirical?
It’s reverse Poe’s Law. Any sufficiently sincerely written nonsense is indistinguishable from satire.
Looking through the author’s other work on the site (and her twitter feed), no, this is not satire. This is sincerity. She’s written a LOT of boomer rants about Those Darn Kids.
when your boyfriend promised your outfits weren’t too slutty for the costume party but you just arrived and they totally are
