Intellectualizing cheesy music competitions forever.
That last post was me launching my campaign to be part of the SBS Eurovision commentators team next year.
This is verbatim from the sbs website on their Eurovision Party page
“It’s time to cast off the straight-jacket of Western middle-class angst and slip into something more Soviet.”
Love it.
But, Soviet states actually weren’t allowed to enter Eurovision, they had a seperate contest called ‘Intervision’ which only lasted for a few years. In this way, the transition of ex-Soviet states into the Eurovision competition can be seen as a study for the integration of European culture in the post-Cold War era.
“Their misunderstanding of feminist politics reflects the reality that most folks learn about feminism from patriarchal mass media.”
— Bell Hooks, Feminism is for Everybody, page 1 (via grrrlstudies)
(Source: bearbearpdx, via grrrlstudies)
It’s a good time of year because you get to think ‘other people are watching Eurovision right now and I’m not, isn’t my life nice’.
All of my plans which made me watching Eurovision seem less pathetic got cancelled and so instead I am spending Eurovision night curled up on my bed with a bottle of coke, a bottle of bourbon and comfort food as I cry over my period pains.
It’s a bad time of year.
“Female toplessness is legal in a lot of places in the US (although not where I live), and I’d be meeting the letter of the law with a couple of Band-aids. But I have a gut feeling that if I go anywhere that there are people—and particularly anywhere there are children—nobody’s going to be too happy about my Band-aids. The enforcement is social; women just don’t go around topless in the US.
It bothers me because it’s unequal, but it also bothers me in its implications: that my body is inherently sexual, and a man’s body isn’t. It feels like men are being viewed through the first-person lens of “it’s nice to feel the sun on my skin, and I don’t mean anything by it” and women are being viewed through the distinctly third-person lens of “it’s inappropriate for me, a heterosexual man, to see her sexy parts.” It ignores the experiences of people who are turned on by male chests and somehow manage to contain themselves when they see one.”
— The Pervocracy: My boobs want to be free. (via sexisnottheenemy)
(via femmefight)
the sash worn by the Irish-Australian Outlaw Ned kelly. This sash was rewarded to Ned when he was ten years old for bravery after he rescued a young boy from drowning. In June 1880, at age twenty five Kelly was captured at Glenrowan and underneath his homemade suit of plate armor his emerald sash of bravery was still worn. According to popular legend he wore it everyday of his life.
Having just read Peter Carey’s ‘The True History of the Kelly Gang’ (patriotic reading times) this is the most adorable artifact ever.
(via astroed)
Tonight has been the first night of my Eurovision weekend, because I went out and did things last night. So right now I am considering changing all of my units at uni in the hopes of working my career towards being a Eurovision commentator for the SBS.
Courtney stodden is the pinnacle of human evolution. Human perfection. The apex predator. God made flesh.
Yeah, what he said.
