The Bluestocking, vol 151
A passable simulacrum of a plate of nachos.
Happy Friday!
I’m writing this from a soulless short-let apartment in the middle of the City, and oh my god, it’s amazing. After five months of barely leaving Lewisham, I had almost forgotten I lived in London, or indeed why anyone would live in London. But I have a week off the Atlantic, and so I’ve come to an eyrie to write/read/eat takeaway.
My dirty secret is that I love travelling for work, staying in weird B&Bs with strange people wandering the halls, eating whatever Norwich’s finest three-star hotel considers to be a passable simulacrum of a plate of nachos. Once, before Lib Dem conference, I forked over £30 in cash to be upgraded to a suite with a jacuzzi, in which I sat, watching Strictly Come Dancing. This is my idea of heaven. Nothing brightens my heart quite like finishing an interview in a strange town and repairing to a Wetherspoons for I’m-going-to-say-chicken smothered in cheese and barbecue sauce, unfeasibly large peas, and a big mug of tea. There are no calories on the road.
Portrait of the Artist As Someone Who Is Not In F***ing Lewisham
Getting out of the house also reminded me how much I love the Thames. When I first moved to London, I worked nights as an uploader at “Guardian Unlimited” while studying in the daytime. The big perk was a free cab home at 1am or 3am or whenever, taking me across one of the bridges as the skyscraper lights glittered on the water. Until the pandemic put a stop to all joy, the only good bit of my commute was seeing the Thames every day, blue at night, brown by day, this dirty great artery pulsing through the city.
I’ve been re-reading some Terry Pratchett recently, and it’s funny that someone who was clearly a countryphile nonetheless created the Ankh - a river so grossly clogged you could bounce rocks off it - and obviously had huge affection for it. (In Moving Pictures, Gaspode the Wonder Dog remembers how his owner tried to drown him in a sack in the Ankh as a puppy, but he just walked to shore.) I feel like that about the Thames. From its banks, I could see mudlarkers, joggers, selfie-takers, coffee-drinkers, Uber boats (?!), rusted hulks, HMS Belfast and the improbable Victorian cake fantasy that is Tower Bridge. It felt alive, and so did I.
This week I read two snack-sized books. Anne Applebaum’s Twilight of Democracy is a good primer if you’ve been wondering what the hell is going on in Poland and Hungary (spoiler: it’s not good) and why all the dodgy authoritarians seem to hang out together. Zadie Smith’s Intimations is so slight that it would feel a bit of a swizz if the proceeds weren’t going to charity; nonetheless, it’s cathartic to read someone so cool and reflective writing about the mad year we’ve had. She was also great on the Adam Buxton podcast, although judging by how many texts I got when I was on the Adam Buxton podcast, you all listen to that anyway.
Helen
The Karen War Will Never End (Atlantic)
In her 1991 essay “From Practice to Theory, or What is a White Woman Anyway?” the feminist and legal scholar Catharine MacKinnon referenced the Till case to explain the malignant stereotype that has grown up around the “white woman” in the United States. “This creature is not poor, not battered, not raped (not really), not molested as a child, not pregnant as a teenager, not prostituted, not coerced into pornography, not a welfare mother, and not economically exploited,” wrote MacKinnon. “She is Miss Anne of the kitchen, she puts Frederick Douglass to the lash, she cries rape when Emmett Till looks at her sideways, she manipulates white men’s very real power with the lifting of her very well-manicured little finger.” She might have added, echoing the LA Times: Nothing worse happens to the white woman than a viral-video shaming.
I finally wrote about Karens, with far less bravery than several women before me, who got dog’s abuse for pointing out that its usage was obviously now drifting into sexism, whatever its origins. Honestly, watch that Paul Joseph Watson video I link to and tell me it’s not purest essence of “shut UP mum you can’t make me tidy my rooooooom”.
The Murder of Seth Rich (Rolling Stone)
This is the true story of an untrue story. It’s the story of how Fox News took a conspiracy theory from the online fringes and mainstreamed it into global news. It’s the story of how a Fox News staff writer, a Fox News paid contributor, and a Fox News unpaid commentator worked together to win the trust of a family wracked by grief and then used their imprimatur to publish a “sham story” that would become an article of faith in MAGA culture. It’s the story of how Fox News and some of its biggest stars have so far escaped any accountability for actions whose consequences continue to haunt the Rich family.
This is so, so awful. Needing an alternative narrative to “Wikileaks, with the help of a Russian hacker, obtained the DNC emails”, the MAGA-sphere hit on the idea that the emails had been stolen by someone inside the party, who was then killed to cover up the crime. The insider’s name was Seth Rich.
What his family have been through since his murder is appalling. This is perhaps the most upsetting sentence in the piece: “On May 23rd, a week after it was first published and went viral, Fox retracted Zimmerman’s story.” A whole week of an incredibly powerful news network aiming all its artillery at a grieving family, abetted by an army of internet sleuths . . . all for a story that fell apart on contact with any scepticism.
PS One sub-plot of this story is that the Trump administration really has been Springtime for Grifters. I guess when you look around and see, eg Roger Stone getting welcomed on to the team, and then pardoned, yer average shady character thinks: why not me?
Mmm, the Carefree World of Porn, Why Do You Prudes Criticise It, Part 12543 (Vice)
They also found a video script entitled “22 Whores + 5 Shady Lawyers VS GirlsDoPorn,” with the subheading, “Share and spread this video as far and wide as possible” and listed the names of the plaintiffs in the civil suit, "along with information intended to embarrass, harass and intimidate them," according to the FBI, including full names and location.
“Ask yourself how viral these videos will go now if nobody is controlling them . . . . Good Job :)” the script said.
Brian Holm, one of the lead attorneys representing the women in the Girls Do Porn case, told me that the fact that the Girls Do Porn owners were preparing to release a video to dox them is not surprising at all. Since filing the case three years ago, Holm and his co-counsel John O’Brien have endured endless, aggressive harassment.
In November, Pratt and Girls Do Porn producer Kevin Gibson allegedly harassed Holm by photoshopping his face into porn to make it look like he was posing with two male porn actors. The images were spread through social media.
If only their website full of images of people being degraded through sexual imagery had given us some clue that they thought it was acceptable to degrade people through sexual imagery!
Quick Links
Radiohead play “Nobody Does It Better” in 1995, three years before they sadly all died and didn’t make any more albums.
Anyone who ever watched America’s Next Top Model will recognise that what Gavin Williamson is doing here is “smizing”.
My favourite US election ad so far. It’s a real covfefe-spitter.
How Two British Orthodontists Became Celebrities to Incels (NYT). Instant winner of Headline of the Week.
See you next time!