touchofgrey37:

The ghost of Macho Man Randy Savage is trying to send us a message.

(via pussybow)

handaxe:

I’ll decode the rhetoric. Hollywood’s intentions behind underrepresentation are this:

  1. "We will cast a white person in your role because you are worthless to us. We will cast Rooney Mara as Tiger LillyJohnny Depp as Tonto, and we’ll even put Hugo Weaving in yellowface. We don’t care about your identity.
  2. We will profit greatly from experiences of subjugation and loss of autonomy. We will have major motion pictures, even some big ass summer blockbusters, about slavery. Only it will be told from the perspective of a white dude being captured by dark-skinned dudes, set hundreds of years into the future and be about mind control. Hell, we’ll even make movies about actual racism so we can position white people as good guys time and time again. Have you seen the Help? 
  3. We’re gonna write all-white narratives about any goddamn thing we want. If you try to tell us that our all-white WW2 movie discredits African-American men and women who died for their country, we’ll discredit YOU and make sure your flick sinks at the box office. We’ll get a respected cowboy type white fella to say it! Fun fact: the white cowboys vs savage Indians was a narrative constructed by Hollywood! Most cowboys back in the day weren’t even white!
  4. We will sell you back the white women we want you to believe in. We’ll placate you with Cate Blanchett getting sassy about misogyny so she can stand up for the pedophile filmmaker we profit from. We’ll loosen Jennifer Lawrence’s leash so she can act quirky enough to whip you dumb shits into a fan girl frenzy so you’ll be happy when we can cast her in a role written for a woc. Bonus for us: She constantly undermines LGBT and fat people. We’ll let Scarlett Johanssen mouth off to sexist reporters so you’ll still think she’s a hero when we cast her in a racist action movie. You’ll think these three women are feminists. We steal your empowerment and sell it back to you, repackaged as a girl power we’re more comfortable with. 
  5. We reduce your identity because you mean nothing to us. You are a negative space to us. You are the samurai statue in our neighbor’s yard. You are the Asian fusion restaurant. You are the Native headdress at Coachella. You are the thug we cast as the bad guy so the white dude can execute you onscreen. You are the Indigenous population we use as the wild savage in our narrative. You are the rape victim we write so we can hear you scream. We need you to scream so the good guy can save you. Alternatively, you are the rape victim who uses rape as an inciting incident inside a revenge narrative, like Kill Bill or Girl with A Dragon Tattoo. We don’t need you to act in the roles we write about you- we’ll cast Jared Leto as a trans woman or heck, so many straight white dudes as a gay men. 
  6. We don’t care about your representation because none of you matter to us, we’ll scavenge what we need from your identities and abandon the parts that make you whole. We don’t need those.” 

Abbi, you are the love of my life.

Abbi, you are the love of my life.

Abbi, you are the love of my life.

Abbi, you are the love of my life.

(via babybirched)

spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)
spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850
by John Philipps Emslie
(via the Wellcome Collection)

spacetravelco:

Scientific engravings from 1850

by John Philipps Emslie

(via the Wellcome Collection)

theatlantic:

The Quiet Radicalism of All That

The ’90s were golden years for Nickelodeon. The children’s cable television network was home to now cult-classic shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1991-2000), Clarissa Explains It All (1991-’94), The Secret Life of Alex Mack (1994-’98), and Salute Your Shorts (1991-’92)—arguably heretofore unmatched in their clever, un-condescending approach to entertaining young people. Nick News with Linda Ellerbee launched in 1992, and remains to this day one of the only shows on-air devoted to frank, engaging discussions of teen issues and opinions.

But perhaps the program that best embodied the values of Nick in those years was All That, a sketch-comedy show that premiered 20 years ago today. Created by Brian Robbins and Mike Tollin, All That ran for an impressive 10 seasons before it was canceled in 2005. The prolific franchise spawned a number of spin-offs (Good Burger, Kenan & Kel, The Amanda Show) and launched the careers of several comedy mainstays: Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Nick Cannon, and Taran Killam.

Like Saturday Night Live (which would later hire Thompson and Killam), All That was a communal pop-cultural touchstone. The parents of ’90s kids had the Church Lady, “more cowbell,” and Roseanne Roseannadanna; the kids themselves, though, had Pierre Escargot, “Vital Information,” and Repairman Man Man Man, and we recited their catch-phrases to one another in the cafeteria and on the playground. Although All That was clearly designed as a SNL, Jr., of sorts, it wasn’t merely starter sketch comedy—it was an admittedly daring venture for a children’s network to embark on.

In its own right, All That was a weirdly subversive little show. It never explicitly crossed the line into “mature” territory, but it constantly flirted with the limits of FCC-approved family-friendliness. Take, for instance, the “Ask Ashley” sketch. A barely tween-aged Amanda Bynes (Seasons Three to Six), played an adorably wide-eyed video advice-columnist. Ashley (“That’s me!”) would read painfully dimwitted letters from fans with clearly solvable problems. (Example: “Dear Ashley, I live in a two-story house and my room is upstairs. Every morning, when it’s time to go to school, I jump out the window. So far I’ve broken my leg 17 times. Do you have any helpful suggestions for me?”) She would wait a beat, smile sweetly into the camera, then fly into a manic rage; emitting a stream of G-rated curses, always tantalizingly on the verge of spitting a true obscenity into the mix.

Read more. [Image: Nickelodeon]

(via thesistatement)

arpeggia:

The Pharcyde - Runnin’

Now that we’ve gotten The Late Show squared away, the question remains - who will replace Seth Meyers?