lmao god, english upper class people… I was reading Mathilda, and there’s all these monologues about the protagonist going insane from loneliness and not knowing how to act when she finally strikes up a friendship again; she has retired to a cottage in the woods and is essentially in hiding. All this time we’re given the impression that she is utterly alone in that cottage. Much woe about the completeness of her loneliness. and then.
what do you mean your servant …? in your cottage in the woods where you were so utterly alone? that one?
pt 2, this time Frankenstein by the same. Said Frankenstein is greatly relieved when he returns and the ‘apartment was empty’ because this means his monster has fled. but then
…did that servant materialise out of thin air to bring him food in his room. The place not actually empty, just empty of people of his own class. he just left the servant and his monster with each other while he was out.
Eventually the monster was like “well this is awkward. I’m out.” and the servant presumably just filed the encounter under “weird shit upper class people do” and went on with his life.
I remember taking this college elective on film adaptations and we talked about the controversy caused by the PBS adaptation of Emma, which made a point of putting servants in every. single. scene, confronting the audience with the reality that the main characters are surrounded by servants constantly and are choosing not to acknowledge their presence. Emma is consoling her “poor” friend Harriet over her misfortune and the entire time a servant is standing there silently brushing Emma’s hair or some shit.
Virtually every other adaptation of Emma does a very good job of invisiblizing the constant presence of the working class labor force that allowed these people to live the way they did.
A quote from Mary Shelley’s Mathilda: ’[…] arrived and quite incapable of taking off my wet clothes that clung about me. In the morning, on her return, [highlighted] my servant [end highlight] found me almost lifeless, while possessed by a high fever I was lying on the floor of my room.
A quote from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: […] hands for joy and ran down to Clerval. [highlighted] We ascended into my room, and the servant presently brought breakfast; [end highlight] but I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly.]
Got home this evening from errands and realized I’ve been running around town looking like some kind of survival horror game protagonist.
I’m out here in my jeans and boots and hoodie and old green field jacket, just carrying groceries, but I look like I should be running around and yelling “Mia!!” and/or “Rose!!” a lot.
“i would kill a pedophile to protect my child” ok but would you teach your child how to say no? even to adults? even to adults you like? would you teach your child the words “penis” and “vulva” and then use them? would you let them ask questions about their body? would you answer them honestly? would you learn how to cope with your feelings when you talk about human bodies, so they don’t feel ashamed? would you set a positive example for how you talk about your body? would you tell your child they don’t have to hug or kiss anyone? would you tell your family the same? would you stand by them when they refuse to hug someone? even someone you know has never done anything to hurt them? would you let your child avoid food they don’t like? would you let you child avoid people they don’t like? would you believe them? would you sit in the discomfort of not knowing all the answers and not take it out on them? would you love your child the same if someone did hurt them? would you make them feel valued just as they are? would you let them talk to doctors or nurses in private? would you let them express their feelings? would you show interest in their life? would you let your child say no to you? would you help your child feel safe coming to you when they make a mistake? would you apologize to your child? would you believe them? would you put aside your anger to focus on what would make your child feel safe and loved? would you put your ego aside for your child? would you take your child’s concerns seriously? would you listen to your child? would you believe them?
U will suggest something like stop relying on ai. Dont treat clothing as disposable. Stop buying things from Amazon. And your fellow landfillcore Americans will say: If I have to think about how my actions affect other people, I will die. Is that what you want? You want me to die?
when boy bands sing a love song addressed to the listener does that imply all 5-10 of them are in love with you at once. that seems like a lot of pressure i don’t know if i want to be the nucleus of the boyband polycule.
real quick if anyone is confused: professional athletes are paid a lot of money because they generate a lot of money. if you believe that professional athletes should not be paid a proportional share of the revenue they generate, you are anti worker’s rights and also fundamentally do not understand how labor works
like hey. im a communist. i am not arguing for rich people. i am arguing for workers to get paid what they are worth for the labor they perform. athletes being paid a lot of money is not a hill you have to die on. it is not a consideration you should be incorporating into your political and economic policy. athletes are not special, they are workers, and if you say “this worker does not deserve to be paid what they are owed” you are anti labor and you should not be trusted under any circumstances.
also like. arguing that white male athletes should not be adequately compensated for their labor is really not the leftist win you think it is when wnba players get 9% of the leagues revenue and pwhl players are forced to work second jobs. if you think the recognizable names of major men’s sports shouldn’t be compensated, what do you think about workers rights for bench players and 4th liners in women’s sports who are paid astronomically less?
star trek explores these strange seemingly inconsequential extremes because it wants you to consider the possibility that your concept of ethics doesnt and could never possibly account for every scenario. It wants you to consider the ethical ramifications of just wiping out the little nanites taking over your ships computer even though eventually this will kill you all becuase
-What if they’re alive?
-What if they’re sentient?
-What if they don’t realize they’re hurting us?
-What if what hurts us is what they need to live?
-What if we can communicate with them?
Star Trek takes the situation of, “these computer bugs are eating our ship and in an hour we’ll all be dead and we COULD just wipe them out utterly but…what if they’re like us?” because the ramifications effect what risks we ourselves are willing to take in the name of pacifism and understanding. it says that even the smallest most immenently dangerous creature deserves as much of a chance to live peacefully as we can possibly give it through understanding.
without examining ourselves this way, through these made up seemingly inane situations, we will never be able to understand ourselves and what we’re truly capable of, what levels of understanding can be achieved. without the ability to place ourselves in a difficult situation and reach beyond our first instinct of fight or flight and self-preservation, we will never be evolve as a global community
this is unequivocally true. the rabbi at my childhood temple made it a point to bring a Star Trek scenario into every single d'var, and there was always something relevant!
I was at DragonCon one year when Avery Brooks was on a panel, and a Black dude stood up and talked about how the year DS9 came on, he became the sole custodial guardian of his small son, and he was *terrified* and felt helpless, because he hadn’t really had a father himself, and he didn’t really know any Black fathers he particularly wanted to emulate, and no Black single fathers at all. He talked about how every week he’d put his kid to bed and sit down and watch Deep Space Nine, and think to himself, “Okay, this, I want us to be this kind of father and son,” and how, silly as it might sound, the idea that Ben could be there for Jake, all the time, successfully, and earn his admiration and trust, was the only source he really had of inspiration, the only voice that was telling him he could handle this job.
I swear to fuck there was a whole auditorium of people in tears by the time he was done, including both him and Brooks. It was one of the most beautiful moments I ever saw about the sometimes bloodless-sounding term “representation,” and about fandom in general, and I will never forget it.
