the teachers at my high school do this to the graffiti in the bathrooms and i literally cant
So we’ve been racking our brain, trying to figure out a contest to run on this here Tumblr page to go along with the International Champions Cup ticket giveaways we’re doing on our other social media channels. Then it occurred to us that, well, we’re not following a lot of people here in Indy … nor are we being followed yet by a lot of people here in town, for that matter. So one way to remedy that and spread the word about the page to the locals while also finding engaging pages to track in return?
That’s right, a gratuitous “reblogging” contest.
With that said, we’ll give away a pair of tickets to next Thursday’s Chelsea-Inter match at Lucas Oil Stadium to anyone that reblogs this post by Friday at 5:00 pm EDT. In return, we’ll pledge our undying love and support to your respective page … or at least give it a follow. It’s the least we can do.
(grabbed the image of the shweet watercolor of Monument Circle from Flickr … “Floyd D. Hopper, of Cherry Tree Hill Studio in Noblesville, Indiana. Probably painted in 1973 or 1974”)
I know the deadline was Friday, but I really want to win two tickets! My boyfriend is returning from a long visit abroad visiting his family the day before. A pro soccer game would be the perfect way to welcome him back to Indy, since he’s a regular at Chatham and has a huge jersey collection. :)
Artist Nickolay Lamm took the CDC measurements of the average 19-year-old woman in America to create a “real” Barbie
So… Jerry (Jim O’Heir) met Newt Gingrich today during a filming of Parks & Rec in Indianapolis. And then I found out there’s a blog combining Jerry’s lines with pictures of Newt. Craaaazy.
For many years I suffered from a severe and continuous nervous breakdown tending to melancholia–and beyond. During about the third year of this trouble I went, in devout faith and some faint stir of hope, to a noted specialist in nervous diseases, the best known in the country. This wise man put me to bed and applied the rest cure, to which a still-good physique responded so promptly that he concluded there was nothing much the matter with me, and sent me home with solemn advice to “live as domestic a life as far as possible,” to “have but two hours’ intellectual life a day,” and “never to touch pen, brush, or pencil again” as long as I lived. This was in 1887.
I went home and obeyed those directions for some three months, and came so near the borderline of utter mental ruin that I could see over.
Then, using the remnants of intelligence that remained, and helped by a wise friend, I cast the noted specialist’s advice to the winds and went to work again–work, the normal life of every human being; work, in which is joy and growth and service, without which one is a pauper and a parasite–ultimately recovering some measure of power.
Being naturally moved to rejoicing by this narrow escape, I wrote The Yellow Wall-Paper, with its embellishments and additions, to carry out the ideal (I never had hallucinations or objections to my mural decorations) and sent a copy to the physician who so nearly drove me mad. He never acknowledged it.
If someone’s idea of fun is laughing at the prospect of a random girl next to them being raped, then I’m totally fine ruining that.”Everyone else’s fun”? Consider that in virtually every audience, there will be a rape victim. Probably several. (Rape is extremely common. Even a guy like Daniel Tosh ought to know that.) For those survivors, and even for people who haven’t been raped, hearing a comedian not only make a rape joke, but make several and smugly, aggressively talk about how rape jokes are always funny, has already ruined their night. Yep, it sucks to be pushing back memories of being raped or assaulted, to be trying to recapture the fun you were just having, while everyone around you is laughing at a comment that put you back at the moment of trauma. And for what purpose? So the comedian can feel edgy? Oooooh, how subversive, a man talking about rape casually and flippantly.
I’m glad this girl spoke up. I would have been relieved to see her do so. I go to comedy clubs a lot and fit in as much as anyone else in the audience. Many hecklers are either jerks or they think they’re funny. This is different. A good comedian teases his audience and responds to hecklers creatively. When it’s clear he or she has really hit a nerve with an audience member and it’s not a joke to them, they switch topics. A night at the comedy club should be fun, and even edgy and possibly uncomfortable. It shouldn’t be deeply upsetting. (Rape is frequently dismissed- a joke about a lot of other “bad” topics is different because those problems are generally taken seriously by society.) It shouldn’t be a scenario where someone who rarely if ever has to worry about rape (i.e., a man) personally ridicules someone who regularly has to worry about it (i.e., a woman.)
I’m not trying to say Tosh can’t say whatever he wants. But I’m saying what he said was horrible, clueless, and frankly, unimaginative. I certainly won’t go see him now.
Bringing up murder is derailing, by the way. Murder isn’t the discussion here. And everyone cares about “their own personal issues,” especially when they perceive that others don’t.
This is something that happened to a friend of mine in her own words.
“So, on Friday night my friend and I were at her house and wanted to get out and do something for the evening. We brainstormed ideas and she brought up the idea of seeing a show at the Laugh Factory. I’d never been, I thought…
I think everyone needs to know about this. How is rape funny? It fucking RUINED my life.
Some people think murder is funny, in context, when it’s objectively worse than rape. Why don’t you go attack that, instead of caring about your own personal issues. Rape is bad, sure, but don’t go dragging it out in public and ruining other peoples fun.
ah, i see my restaurant is doing well.