Listen/purchase: The Sea Dogs are Tanking by Woosley
Regardless of anything that’s happening in my personal life, I have music to make, and lots of it.
Here’s a rough mix of a new song. There will be many more very soon.
This is me pulling myself out of the muck.
Thanks for caring.
Mmm, something smells wonderful here.
My GF and I are still confused why Sean isn’t fucking famous as hell at this point. He’s easily one of the greatest musicians/songwriters of the last thirty years.
If you want to know why gender stereotypes exist, take a good look at the difference between Girl’s Life and Boy’s Life Magazines. While Boy’s Life pushes boys to get outside and explore nature, Girl’s Life tells girls they should be worrying about fashion. While Boy’s Life offers stories of Scouts they can model themselves after, Girl’s Life asks if Facebook is ruining their love life. And, my personal favorite, while Boy’s Life gives it’s readers jokes so they can be the center of attention Girl’s Life posits, “Do You Know When to Shut Up?”
This is the message we’re giving our children.
Lou Reed recently reviewed Kanye’s latest and loved it. A great review of a fantastic artist, by a fantastic artist.
This year’s STARS posters.
i like this because it highlights a few things. like how distorted these caricatures are; the feelings it causes in the community it disrespects, and how cool we people of color are just being chill and ourselves. oh, and how ridiiiiiiculous these white folks look doing this. that’s one of the best parts of this ad.
Nirvana’s original contract with Sub Pop. Six hundred bucks well spent—not that we had it at the time. Bleach: Deluxe Edition available here.
What hiding the truth from church members cost one Christian man
I didn’t know Kevin that well. The truth is, I didn’t know anyone at my church that well. Church is where I learned to wear a mask, to hide my true thoughts and beliefs. It was a fire and brimstone Baptist church. “Where the Old-Fashioned Gospel Is Preached,” the bulletin boasted each week. The pastor regularly yelled, “God said it, I believe, that settles it!” from the pulpit to a roaring round of Amens. Throughout my childhood, I spent several hours a week there. So did Kevin.
Kevin’s mother sang in the choir, had lots of friends at church, was on committees, and hosted dinners at her house on a regular basis. She was an extreme germaphobe. Houseguests were always required to leave their shoes on her walkway outside before entering—even in the dead of winter. Both children and adults had to wash their hands before coming to the table. And if, say, your dinner roll accidentally slipped from your plate and onto her bleached-white tablecloth, she’d quickly snatch it up and drop it in the trash like a dead rat. She also rarely paid attention to what anyone else was saying and was the queen of nonsequitors. Someone might remark, “So the doctor put me on these new pills for my heart condition.” To which she’d reply, “Did anyone else notice that Ron and Betty Wilson weren’t sitting together at church this past Sunday?” Her husband, Kevin’s father, never said much. He traveled a lot for work, which seemed to be the secret to their marriage. Kevin never uttered much around his mother either, but he always sat close to her and seemed to long for her recognition, which he rarely got. He was always well groomed and would nod earnestly at her remarks. “Finish your meal, Kevin,” she’d say. “You’ve barely touched anything on your plate.”
Kevin had wavy black hair, slightly crooked teeth, and a smile that took up half his face. He was shy but friendly and fairly skilled at post-church parking lot banter. He’d always agree when someone praised pastor Tom’s “powerful” sermon. He’d go out of his way to compliment the new hairstyles of women in the church (“You’re ready for the red carpet!” he’d often say). And he’d always promise to keep people in his prayers whenever there was a request.
He was a few years older than me and I remember missing his presence at church when he went away to Christian college. The parking lot wasn’t the same without him, and the hymns on Sundays didn’t sound as good either. He finally returned four years later and got a job at an accounting firm nearby, but there was something different about him. He was still quick to say hello and chat but he seemed distracted, more guarded, nervous. I had always suspected that Kevin was wearing a mask like me, but his was starting to show cracks—it seemed harder for him to contain whatever it was he was holding back.
Eventually I went off to college myself, and only saw Kevin occasionally, when I was home visiting for a weekend, or on holidays. One Christmas I came home and noticed that Kevin had lost some weight; the result of working out, he told me. But when I visited again that summer, he’d lost even more weight and didn’t look healthy at all. His skin seemed tight around his cheekbones, he had dark circles under his eyes, and even his hair was thinner. I heard through the grapevine that he’d been seeing one of the doctors from the church, but nobody seemed to know what was causing his symptoms.
It was the following summer, a Fourth of July weekend at my parent’s house, when we got the phone call. Apparently, Kevin was supposed to go camping with some of his church friends but had bailed out at the last minute because he wasn’t feeling well. His friends had tried calling him over the weekend to check in on him, but he never answered, and when they returned to town after the trip, he still wasn’t answering their calls. That’s when they drove over to his house and found him lying in a puddle of his own urine and feces, a skeletal version of himself, clutching a half-empty bottle of vodka.
The ambulance came, but Kevin only lasted a few hours at the hospital before being pronounced dead. None of his family or friends from church ever knew he was gay; the last thing they suspected was that he had been dying of AIDS all along. Kevin had probably been seeing the doctor from church just to appease his mother. If he had been seeing another doctor that knew he had AIDS, I don’t know for sure why he wasn’t receiving more rigorous treatment. What I do know is that Kevin heard the same sermons I did, year after year, the ones where the pastor would angrily declare homosexuality a “vile sin” and “an abomination unto God!”
At Kevin’s funeral, which was attended by less than half the members of the church, a friend of mine approached Pastor Tom, who had baptized Kevin as a kid. “Isn’t it terrible about Kevin?” she asked.
“What do you want me to say?” he replied. “Kevin was a homosexual.”
To this day, Kevin’s mother doesn’t know why he really died. Some members of the church had managed to get to the hospital before her and somehow kept the doctor’s reports from her. They decided it was better that she not know the truth about her son’s “lifestyle”—they didn’t think she could handle the humiliation. – by Christian Nightmares
(The names and some minor details were changed to protect the privacy of those involved.)
This is a resource post for all the Good White Person™s out there. You know, the ones who say things like “It’s not my fault I’m white! Don’t generalize white people!”, or “I’m appreciating your culture! You should be proud!”, or “Why do you hate all white people, look I’m a special snowflake who’s not racist give me an award for meeting the minimum requirements for being a decent human being”.
Well, if you are actually interested in understanding racism and how it ties into cultural appropriation, please read instead of endlessly badgering PoCs on tumblr with your cliched, unoriginal arguments and repeating the same questions over and over.
On White Privilege
aka don’t blame me just because I’m white:
- It’s Not My Fault I Was Born White: Basics of White Privilege x
- Racial Divide x
- Endless Examples of White Privilege x
- You Cannot Know What It’s Like To Be A Racial Minority x
- Intersectional Feminism x
- White Privilege Does Not Mean White People Have Perfect Lives x
- White Privilege and White Supremacy: A Presentation x
- You Will Never Experience Racism x
- Understanding White Privilege x
- White Privilege and Double Standards x
- Systematic White Ignorance x
- The Invisibility of White Privilege x
- The Luxury of White Privilege x
- White Privilege: The Harry Potter Analogy x
- Privilege Denial Bingo x
- Privilege and Cost x
- Check Your Privilege 101 x
- Whiteness x
- Whiteness is Not A Culture x
- White Privilege and Racism x
- Deeply Embarrassed White People Talk About Race x
- When White Anti Racists Talk About ~Their Struggle~ x
- White Privilege As A System x
On Reverse Racism
aka you are being racist against white people:
- Are White People Racially Oppressed x
- White People, the new Racial Minority x
- People Don’t Value Pale Skin!! x
- There Is No Such Thing As Reverse Racism x
- Racism vs. Not Racism x
- But White People Are Discriminated Against In Foreign Countries x
- The Myth of Reverse Racism: Why Cracker is Not N**** x
- Satire: A Step Wise Guide on Being Reverse Racist x
- Racism Against White People vs. Racism Against POCs x
On Cultural Appropriation
aka I’m just appreciating your culture:
- The Basics x
- Identifying Appropriation x
- But When We Wear It … x
- Why Can’t I Wear It (Hipster Headdresses) x
- Not Yours x
- If You Take The Bindi x
- White People Do It Better x
- Multiculturalism and Appropriation x
- Cultural Appropriation and Portrayals In Print Media x
- Diminishing the Cultural Significance of the Bindi x
- The Cultural Appropriation Bingo x
- Why We’re Fed Up of Your Responses x
- Identities Are Not Costumes x
- Hinduism And Appropriation x
- Religion and Privilege x
- Bindis Are Cool x
- Exotic India x
- What’s Wrong With Cultural Appropriation x
- Racism, Bindis and Ganesh Tattoos x
- BUT YOU’RE SPEAKING ENGLISH! x
- Cultural Appropriation Trolls x
- Guide to Being An Appropriating Douchefuck x
- New Age ~Culture Mixing~ x
- In case you’re tired of the prose, here’s poetry x
- Why You Shouldn’t Wear A Bindi x
- Appropriating and Sharing x
- Our Culture is A Punchline Until It’s a Trend x
- Homage Or Insult x
- Tattoos and Appropriation x
- Bollywood is Not Synonymous With Indian x
- College Party Costumes and Stereotypes x
- Dotheads x
- Bindis and Racist Humour x
- Hindu Iconography x
- Misuse of Hindu Iconography x
- Your Appreciation Doesn’t Help Us x
Assorted Vials of White Tears and Miscellaneous Antidotes
aka I can’t change that I’m white/not all whites are racist/we are all humans:
- Unoriginal Arguments Refuted x
- Quick Checklist: You Might Be Racist If x
- Your Opinion Isn’t Necessary x
- I’m Not Responsible For My Ancestors x
- The Kumbayah Myth x
- Proud to Be White x
- Good White Person x
- We Don’t Hate White People x
- Brutality of Colonialism And Why You Can’t Tell Us To Forget the Past x
- People Who Claim Not To See Race Are More Likely to Be Racist x
- All Races are Beautiful Said the White Girl x
- Race Blindness Is A Luxury x
- Well, You’re Racist For Calling Me Racist x
- I’ve Read About Its Significance, I Know What It Means
- Angry Because Someone Called You Racist x
- We’re Not All Like That x
- People Only Care About This Trivial Shit On The Internet x
- I Can’t Apologize for Being Born White, It’s Not My Fault x
- Why Can’t You Tell Me What I’m Doing Wrong x
- It’s Easy to Be Color Blind When You’re White x
- A Diagrammatic Guide To White Tears x
- Conversations I’m Sick Of Having With White People x
- Why Do You Hate White People x
- I’m Trying To Be Cultured x
- Sisyphean Conundrum x
- What is Your Problem x
- We Are All Human, We All Bleed Red x
- It’s Just A Bindi x
- How Not To Respond To Accusations of Racism x
- I’m Italian And 0.009% Native American x
- What White People Think Racism Means: A Venn Diagram x
- White Guilt x
- White Pride!!!111!!! x
- I Like *Insert Foreign Country* I Want To Live There x
- You Have So Much Hate, Fighting Fire With Fire Won’t Help x
- BooHoo, Don’t Call Me Racist x
- Not Everything Ended With Your Ancestors x
- The Racist Reaction x
- I Don’t See Why That Is Racist x
- Crummy Apologies x
Okay. I agree. I’ve been socially conditioned not to notice racism and recognize my privilege. What can I do?
I don’t care about this bullshit; you’re making a big deal out of nothing, go home and delete your blog:
"Talking to White People about the Zimmerman Trial Bingo"
Aubrey, one of my amazing subscribers, dropped me a note this morning to say that the ridiculous comments on Kamu Bell’s and my Facebook page inspired this epic Zimmerman Trial Bingo card. After all the fuckery that’s been floating around the internet with regards to this sham of a verdict, I needed this laugh today. Thanks Aubrey!
I’ve already won this twice today, just on Facebook alone.
I’ve seen 12 of these since Saturday night.