X-Men #1 Young Variant. No Boys Allowed.
welp file that under thing I need
*squeals with joy* This is THE BEST!
Tiny Beast with his cart. Storm making it rain on Logan’s head. Scott’s worrier face. The Sentinel head!
OMG! This is perfect! I love it!
lookit wee Jubes on the top of the treehouse! I love the Calvin and Hobbes vibe.
the millennial problem:
two millennials are barreling towards adulthood at 95 miles per hour. one of them has been coated with the most extravagant paint money can buy, but their steering apparatus is locked up until that coat’s paid off; the other’s brakes have been ripped out mid-trip, the thief yelling, “what, did you think you were entitled to these?” over their shoulder. half the tracks have been torn away to build second, third, and fifth garages for trains that are no longer running. solve for x.
tell me again how the song goes — i’m so inadequate i might forget. if we’re not informed enough then we’re apathetic morons, but if we’re too informed we’re oversensitive reactionaries; if we think we deserve more then we’re narcissistic cutthroats, but if we’re happy where we are then we’re passionless layabouts. if we’re making money then we’re materialistic automatons who only care about stuff and don’t value the important things in life, but if we’re broke then we’re disgusting, spoiled children who expect everything in life to be a handout. if we spend too much time with technology then we’re antisocial, soulless zombies who spell the end for human interaction as we know it, but if we spend too much time together we’re a dangerous, unstable element who should get real jobs already. we’re a disgrace; we’re a embarrassment; we’re a mistake; we’re a disappointment; we’re not what you wanted, however you slice it, and all of it’s our fault, right? right? oh, god, am i getting the melody wrong?
here’s what i propose, everyone who wants to open their twenty-four-hour news cycles or their pork-barrel mouths, who wants to use their filthy fucking hands to tear this generation a new one: you try it. you come up with a picture of the generation you seem to want: one that’s neither apathetic nor engaged, one that’s neither ambitious nor content, one that’s neither rich nor poor, one that’s neither technologically connected nor interpersonally involved. don’t forget to factor in the variables — the years of economic instability; the globalization of everything from communication to art; the hugely stratified individual experiences we’ve had based on things like race, sexuality, gender, and socioeconomics, on things that come with whole histories of systemic bullshit; the overwhelming burden of student debt that so many of us face; the fact that hindsight is 20/20. you write the formula for the millennial that will shut you the fuck up about all the things we should be and aren’t, about all the ways we’ve failed you, and then you bring it to me. i promise you, i will try it. anything for a little peace and quiet, right? anything to stop hearing it everywhere i go: that voice saying that, at twenty-three, i might already have flunked out of life.
(both millennials crash, spectacularly and yelling for help, into the station that never built a platform for them to pull into. onlookers stand by and shake their heads, wondering about the deplorable state of trains today. that’s what happens when nobody does the fucking math.)
What’s that in the sky? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s CAPTAIN OBVIOUS, because this shit, y’all, can we not.
- There are words for people that look 100% perfect 100% of the time and those words are “a picture” or “a statue” or “a RealDoll.” Live action human people sleep and shower and shit, bleed on their favorite shirts, get violent stomach flus, wake up sometimes looking like creatures from the black lagoon! Accidentally get caught in rainstorms and have to walk around looking half-drowned for the rest of the day! Don’t notice they’ve got food on their face for hours on end! If you’re ever thinking to yourself, “That person has a choice between two girls, one who is utterly physically perfect in every way always and one who is not,” or, in fact, “I have a choice between two girls, one who is utterly physically perfect in every way always and one who is not,” don’t worry, that thought is totally wrong, because “being utterly physically perfect in every way always” and “being alive” are mutually exclusive. NEITHER CAN THING WHILE THE OTHER ETC.
- If the distilled-down theory here is “Only people who look one specific way — you know, like the people in TV and movies — are attractive and everyone else will be alone forever,” then lemme tell you what, there is a handy way to fact check that. It is called “Getting up and going to any populated location anywhere,” and here is what you will discover: regular-ass looking people who are holding hands or kissing or otherwise spending romantic time with each other. Married regular-ass looking people! Regular-ass looking people who’ve had at least enough sex to produce a couple of regular-ass looking kids! This is reality. Average looking people of average size and weight are the average; that’s what that means. Let this one go. (Other things you can find in television/movies that aren’t remotely in touch with reality: time travel! Space aliens! Versions of New York City where everyone is white! Glenn Beck! Seriously, stop trusting your worldviews to these constructs, you are putting them in terrible hands.)
- PERFECTLY GOOD REASONS TO BE FED UP OF GUYS SAYING “ALL GIRLS ARE BEAUTIFUL”: because it’s sort of like saying “girls are valuable because they’re beautiful but not for any other reason” and that is the ideological equivalent of that jar of pickles that everyone has in their fridge that they sort of think they must have bought recently but is in fact from some horrifyingly long time ago, like 1987, and what it’s actually full of is hideously rotten poisonous garbage; because it’s not actually true, ugly people exist, it’s okay, people’s physical looks are not an indicator of their value; because in my experience saying “all girls are beautiful” pretty much always makes dudes seem like odious drippy sycophantic douchecanoes who reach into their buckets o’ platitudes — an unnecessary and vaguely embarrassing thing to say for all occasions! — at every turn, and that’s a bummer.
- I’m not a dude, but I do when the opportunity presents itself fuck ladies, and I have no idea which girl I’d pick in this example! That’s because this example takes two conceptual girlbodies with no personality features and pits them against each other in a contest that is in fact nonsensical, since attraction is a thing with layers and emotions and stuff involved, and you couldn’t so much as decide on lunch this way, with only topical descriptions and no discussion of what was within. Seriously, I’ll show you: you have a choice between two sandwiches, and one of them is small and square and highly stacked with a red toothpick in the middle, and the other is big and wide and cut into triangles with a green toothpick holding it together. Which are you going to pick? Exactly.
(Source: vintage-tumblah)
(Source: mistyknights)
(Source: stuff-and-shenanigans)
scott ‘nerd’ mccall
Complete work of Richard Siken on Spork
Richard Siken[1.1] Ornithopter (Editor’s Pages)[1.2] Love From a Distance (Editor’s Pages)[1.3] Black Telephone (Editor’s Pages)[2.1] The Long and Short of It (Editor’s Pages)[2.2] With All My Road (Editor’s Pages)[3.1] Broken/Unbroken (Editor’s Pages)[3.2] Meet Me at the Page Where (Editor’s Pages)[4.1] When You’re Not Breathing/Glitch (w/ Amy Hayek)[5.1] The Definitive Version (Editor’s Pages)[6.1] Six Point Goodbye (Editor’s Pages)
