Brielle's Blog


A Manifesto for Feminist and Female Artists

By Brielle W., Alexa G., Maria S.

We, the feminist artists, believe that the current structure is ineffective and oppressive so we realize that we have to use art and media to create a new, equal system. As a female artist I will not be put into a box or a trope but instead make art and distribute it as I see fit; as we feel it will benefit society. We will portray bodies of all races, classes, orientations, genders and sizes with agency and respect. We will use our art to bring forth a new status quo and better reforms while explaining the flaws of the past system. In order to move forward into an egalitarian society, we must remember our oppressive past and break from it. We understand that all women are different and that we all face different hardships, but we urge fellow feminist artists to join together to form one cohesive revolution. Do not forget that you, yourself, can be a powerful and revolutionary force for change. Do not settle for a patriarchal society wrapped in a compromise. Do want you want to get what you need and do not let society’s ideals of behavior restrict your goals, desires and dreams. Together as women, as artists, as feminists,  we will unite to form a better system of equality using art and media as our weapon of choice. Together we can change the world!

posted 5 hours ago with 5 notes

krzl09bggsh:

Jeff finally letting himself want what he wants.

Let me weep in my silent little corner. Let me.


schmergo:

schmergo:

I want a movie about a guy who runs for president and wins but then suddenly realizes that he doesn’t want to be president, so he just starts doing ridiculous things all the time trying to get impeached, but it NEVER WORKS because they always miraculously end up being the right thing to do. Like, he declares war on Canada? Next day it turns out that Canada had secret plans to nuke Washington. he bans Doritos? Turns out theyr’e the number one cause of cancer and natural disasters. He sends his vice president to jail? Turns out the VP was a terrorist in disguise. He has 100% approval rating, most popular president ever.

I’ve decided that I want him to be played by Jeff Goldblum. 


discoveringdaniel:

grimdarkthroes:

no idea if this paper is GOOD but its DONE

An anthology of short stories by college students


wired:

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]


They don’t make kid’s shows like they used to — not only in regards to actual content, but also in reference to the diversity of the casting.
Those were the days.

wired:

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]

They don’t make kid’s shows like they used to — not only in regards to actual content, but also in reference to the diversity of the casting.

Those were the days.



Damn, I want a piece of pizza right now. It’s only the third day of Passover and I’m already over this whole thing.

posted 2 days ago with 1 note

Then one day you’re gonna wake up and realize that ‘I don’t love him anymore.’

Never.