Anaheim Ducks: You turn on a Ducks game. The screen is white. It must be Ryan Getzlaf’s bald head, you think. You’re probably right.
Arizona Coyotes: You accidentally call them the Phoenix Coyotes. No one corrects you. You’ve never encountered someone with them as their favorite team.
Boston Bruins: Chara checks someone into the boards. That someone disappears into thin air. You wonder if they keep a list of people Chara has made disappear like that.
Buffalo Sabres: You constantly forget about their existence. Would they be more relevant if they had won the draft lottery and had gotten McDavid, you think sometimes. You forget about them again.
Calgary Flames: A Flames game gets interrupted. Someone yells that there’s a child on the ice. It turns out to be Johnny Gaudreau. Gaudreau eats a Snickers on the bench, and scores.
Carolina Hurricanes: The Canes are down 6-0. Jeff Skinner smiles at a ref. The Canes are up 6-0.
Chicago Blackhawks: Chelsea Dagger starts playing in the distance. Oh no. You start running. The music gets louder. Someone yells: “3 cups in 6 years”. You’re crying. You can’t hide.
Colorado Avalanche: Someone on their roster scores. You must be dreaming. They get a win. This can’t be real, you think. The world must be ending.
Columbus Blue Jackets: You blankly stare at the TV. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve heard the cannon by now. You stopped counting after 10. Your team still hasn’t scored.
Dallas Stars: There’s a fan crying. “Our goalie situation is shit,” they sob. Another fan rubs their back. “At least Tyler Seguin is still hot,” they say. You roll your eyes.
Detroit Red Wings: You hear someone cursing Dylan Larkin. “Why can’t he score,” you hear them say. Crying, they cuddle up to their Yzerman hugging pillow.
Edmonton Oilers: “McDavid sucks,” someone says. Ten Oilers fans and Milan Lucic appear from nowhere. “You suck,” Lucic says and punches them.
Florida Panthers: There’s a ceremony before the game. Jagr is turning 70. Jagr scores the OT winner.
Los Angeles Kings: You make eye contact with Anze Kopitar. He looks dead inside. You nod at each other. What is Kopitar losing fate in, you think. You still relate to him.
Minnesota Wild: The Wild has a 10 win streak. It ends in a 0-1 loss to an irrelevant team. They start a new 10 win streak.
Montreal Canadiens: Carey Price breaks all his limbs. Therrien doesn’t pull him. Shea Weber positions himself on the ice. Al Montoya tells Weber to take the shot while maintaining eye contact with Therrien. Weber shoots. They hire their rivals’ old coach. You wonder if god is real.
Nashville Predators: You meet a fan. They’re crying. “How are you?” you ask. They keep sobbing. You notice they’re wearing a Weber jersey. You understand.
New Jersey Devils: You watch a Devils game. You can’t remember the score after it. You’re only convinced that Adam Henrique is not real.
New York Islanders: John Tavares gives an interview. He’s more plain and boring than you remembered. You can’t stop watching though.
New York Rangers: Henrik Lundqvist stops the game to have a photoshoot. The play continues. He’s not in the net. He makes a save. You don’t understand.
Ottawa Senators: “Ottawa Senators,” someone says. You have to think for a while. You remember Erik Karlsson. That’s it.
Philadelphia Flyers: No one has seen Jakub Voracek’s face in five years. His beard and hair just keep growing. No one knows how to stop the growth.
Pittsburgh Penguins: Someone accidentally says “Crosby.” In a minute, there’s someone with a peach emoji. You hear the words Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion at least once a day.
San Jose Sharks: Someone on their roster scores four times. Joe Thornton is somewhere, stroking himself. Despite the lead, Martin Jones sits on the bench with dead eyes.
St. Louis Blues: Tarasenko scores. Tarasenko scores again. You wonder if anyone else ever scores for them.
Tampa Bay Lightning: No one has seen Steven Stamkos in years. People wish for his return. No one expect nothing though.
Toronto Maple Leafs: “Matthews is better than Laine,” someone says. You keep quiet. It doesn’t matter if you agree. You’ll get attacked either way.
Vancouver Canucks: Henrik and Daniel Sedin have assisted each other in every goal they’ve scored. You don’t believe they’re two different people until you see them in person. Even after that you’re doubtful.
Washington Capitals: Ovechkin is in his spot. Everyone sees him, no one defends him. He shoots, he scores. In the distance, someone says: “Crosby is better.”
Winnipeg Jets: “Laine is better than Matthews,” someone says. You keep quiet. It doesn’t matter if you agree. You’ll get attacked either way.
from what i can tell, you pick just one water bottle to be responsible forat first. ur starter hockey. the one who trips you so you fall in the hole.
according to catie’s hockey polls it seems like a lot of people fall in via sidney crosby, a canadian hockey robot who wants to learn to be a real boy, and many others were cruelly snatched by tyler seguin, a sexy dumpster racoon eating protein powder out of his creepy human hands. wade was lassoed by timothy jimothy oshie: devoted husband and father, stone cold sex freaq. eva, rave, catie and i willingly and consciously jumped after “dc hockey man looks like tim riggins”. choose ur own adventure!
have you selected ur first hockey water bottle? dope! now it’s time to find someone with a robust tag of that hockey! cool, now u know what ur first hockey looks like in various sweaty situations. time to hit the ole ao3. these two tactics when combined will lead you to level two: more fuckin water bottles. let the current take you. it’s a wild ride.
these water bottles may be all on one team. surprise!! that’s your team now! some people choose the team nearest to them geographically, but that seems fiscally responsible and unlikely. go with ur heart. project all sorts of weird shit onto them. their narrative is ur narrative. are you anxious about ageing and missing your shot?? the washington capitals may be for you! are you one boy and his only friend?? try the vegas golden knights!! are you a bunch of scrappy little muppets who are giving it the ole teenage try??? ur a maple leaf, you’re on the up and ur gonna be happy for a long fucking time baby, so i’m mad and jealous at you (I KNOW, i know, you suffered for three centuries in the ice desert, leave me alone)
there are soon-to-be 31 teams so there’s plenty to get weird and personal about. pick ur poison.
damn buddy now you’re deep in this situation. ur hoggles have probably fused onto your face. u keep discovering new water bottles. you’re terrorising your friends in the group chat.
look at all those fucking water bottles!!! god. this was a damn mistake. your team just lost and it HURTS your BODY. who are you?? you’re sports crying on your sofa!! fuck this whole experience!! you should never have got into hockey. time to get out.
nice joke; you can’t get out! you know that west wing speech about the guy in the hole, and the friend jumps in after him? and the guy goes ‘are you stupid? now we’re both down here!’ ‘yeah but i’ve been here before,’ says the friend, ‘and i know the way out.’ spoiler alert: none of us had ever been in the hole, or know the way out. we’re just chilling in here, in a hole. now you’re here too! welcome, buddy. welcome to the hole.
sure beats the hell out of thinking about the state of the world all the time, though, am i right??
Okay, so, it’s time for me to rant about Princess Turdina. Obviously, there will be spoilers, so if you haven’t watched it yet, scoot on past.
This episode was… bad. Like, really bad? I’d like to specifically hear from other trans women like myself, but yeah, wow. This was… a bad fuckin’ allegory.
SO. From the very beginning of the episode, Marco is worried about “coming clean”, and how they “can’t keep lying”. From the get-go we have this crisis between Marco’s assigned gender and their assumed one, which is COMPLETELY contrasting to previous episodes like St. O’s and Heinous, wherein it was just assumed that it was fine that Marco was being who they were, and presenting how they wanted. Gender had not come up in ANY way until this episode. Being a princess was just… being a princess.
Then you’ve got the line from Princess Arms about “if you weren’t being honest about who you are, then this whole school would be built on a lie!” essentially shaming Marco for having represented themselves in a different way during their first time in St. O’s.
(Obligatory shoutout to the Whispering Gardens for once again saying All Girls Gossip, nice stereotyping, what an amazing progressive show)
The lines from Goat Princess (“You showed us that all princesses don’t have to fit into the same mold”), Ponyhead (“You are SO much more fun as Turdina!”), and Marco themselves (“I’m so beautiful…!”) in the following scene really drives home that this episode IS meant to be a trans allegory, whether or not it’s explicit, but then is QUICKLY followed up with Star’s “Well he should tell the truth, like a decent human being” as if not outing themselves is a fucking capital crime.
After the statue scene, Star and Ponyhead do an emotional tug of war on Marco, in which Star says Marco should “Tell the truth” and Ponyhead insists that Marco is happier and should do as they please. The framing of the argument, in that Ponyhead is always displayed as more emotional and almost always in the wrong for these things, frames the narrative that Marco SHOULD be taking Star’s advice, and that they should “Tell the truth like a decent human being”. Star’s been wrong before, but in this instance, they really frame her decision as the right thing to do.
Marco then, on stage, attempts to out themselves, but before they can, Heinous LITERALLY EXPOSES THEIR BODY ON STAGE, OUTING THEM TO THE SCHOOL. THIS IS INEXCUSABLE, WHY IS THIS FUCKING IN AKID’S SHOW. I get that it was just their chest hair, but I’m fucking so mad at this scene, and it’s ridiculous that not only was this allowed, but also that the crew even THOUGHT to put this in a fucking episode, I’m SO mad. Then the fact that Marco is a boy SHOCKS the audience.
They then attempt - in a bad, hamfisted way - to let Marco know that “He can be a princess if he wants to!” and claiming “Turdina is a state of mind!”. They drive Heinous out, blah blah. Star states that Marco looks like “You can breathe a lot easier now” and Marco jokes that it’s because they’re out of the dress, which is like… I guess it feels like Marco thought the whole thing didn’t really matter? Like, that it wasn’t a big deal? And then it goes back to Heinous and how she’s Eclipsa’s daughter but ANYWAY.
The theme and tone of the show is up and down and up and down and it feels… I mean, I guess it feels like cis people trying to write a Trans Lesson, which it literally is, and it’s never a fucking good idea. It was blunt allegories and trying to take the middle road to appeal to both trans Marco fans and also those who dislike the theory, but it just DOESN’T work. Not in an episode where Marco’s gender is the whole POINT.
It was all just… bad. I wasn’t hoping for this to outright confirm trans Marco OBVIOUSLY, because the crew is too scared to do that, even with other shows like Andi Mack confirming their gays. What I WAS hoping for was some acceptance and some confirming of Marco’s femininity and, I guess, breadcrumbs, leading us toward the eventual canon of Marco being trans. Instead the crew basically said “Hey look another St. O’s episode and also let’s talk about GENDER and how BAD IT IS to LIE TO PEOPLE” and it was just a shitty fucking episode.
Honestly if this is how the SvtFoE crew is going to handle transness, I’d just rather them fucking not. Let us write our fanfiction, and have our art, and just… leave trans Marco out of the show if you’re going to do this shit.
☆ DOWNTOWN ☆ the trio exploring the streets of Coruscant on a night out! (surely even the Resistance has some downtime when not on missions, right… and imagine experiencing the scale of this bustling city planet for the first time!!)
I was listening to the song Downtown a lot, which is ridiculous and catchy but also the chorus makes me want to dance down the streets of an intergalactic city too /o/ also just imagining the First Order trio running into them and doing the dance-off in the video haha
At first the marchers came one by one, then in droves. By 7 P.M., on April 24, 1993, Dupont Circle was filled to bursting, spilling over like a dyke Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Young ones, old ones. Suburban dykes in their khakis, city dykes in their boots, softball dykes with the little rat tails in the back of their short-cut hair, shaved Sinéad heads like mine, the big hair of die-hard femmes in dresses, butches dressed to the nines. People who knew about the march before they got to D.C. brought their own banners and signs. The rest dragged each other. I was supposed to be in charge, but how can you manage a hurricane? A tsunami of twenty thousand dykes? You don’t. You just try to get out in front. The Avengers gathered the fire-eaters and drummers together and with the banner pushed our way to the head of the crowd. When that huge entity started moving, what a roar.
[…] I bellowed the few words I had to say into a bullhorn. Probably no one understood, though it didn’t much matter because all those dykes knew where we were (in front of the White House), and how many we were (enough to fill the streets of the entire city), and that together we were Dyke America taking over the capital.
After I got done shouting, a dozen of us Avengers stood on the plastic crates we’d toted from New York. The crowd around us grew quiet. It was getting dark by then. You could hear voices shouting in the background, others yelling, “I can’t see. What are they doing?” We dipped our torches into lighter fluid, lit them, and raised the flames in the air. Then, silhouetted against the familiar glowing white form, we brought them slowly toward our faces, which were lit up, too. Exhaling, as the heat approached our lips, fire entered our mouths and disappeared. The crowds hollered and screamed. And we did it again, while Marlene Colburn tried to get a chant going, “The fire will not consume us. We take it and make it our own.”
That moment, of dykes eating fire in front of the White House, endured as the image of the Avengers. Photographers sent out their photos. The Ministry of Propaganda shot off their press releases. Journalists from major venues beat down our doors for interviews, marveling at the turnout, at the drama and life compared to the same old, same old of the official March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Rights and Liberation with all the groups lined up and orderly. All the speeches predictably moving.
The message of the Dyke March was in our bodies. All twenty thousand of them there together in front of the White House, lit up with flame. We were disorderly, raucous, happy to be behind our own lesbian banner for a change. I can almost hear a couple of dyke readers murmuring as they turn the pages, “What’s the big deal? I don’t need anybody’s validation.” But if you don’t think it makes a difference, it’s because you don’t know. Maybe you’re dulled a little by seeing one or two lesbian faces on TV, in your local politics. One among thousands. Well, imagine what it’s like to suddenly be the majority. Not even the one in ten on the street or whatever it is. But the 100 percent. I suppose that would be my Lesbian Dream if I could describe it now. To be big enough to count. To take up space in the great brain of the country, for even ten minutes a day. To be free.
Kelly J. Cogswell describing the first national Dyke March in Washington, DC, in Eating Fire: My Life as a Lesbian Avenger (2014), Ch. 8
I’m so tired of this bullshit. Individual capitalists maximize their own self-gain through the accumulation of profits, while the state as an institution enacts policies that look out for the longevity of capital as a whole, specifically when the choices of disparate capitalists cause crises or civil unrest. Some Keynesianism here, some worker concessions there. That isn’t socialism – those policies are created to prolong capitalism and prevent socialism (i.e. prolong capital accumulation and top-down ownership over the means of production, and prevent worker self-management and broader economic democracy). The state, through its structural functions, maintains the status quo and keeps capital accumulation going into the long-term. You can call this “corporatism” or “cronyism” or whatever the hell else, but it will never change the fact that the preconditions of “pure capitalism” will always give rise to a legitimizing apparatus with a monopoly on violence to maintain the class stratification of “pure capitalism”, and after probably two days you’d end up with “cronyism” (read: capitalism as it has always existed) all over again.