The Bluestocking, vol 182
A Mumsnet thread made flesh.
Happy Friday!
I’ve been immersed in Scottish politics all week, the main upshot of which is that I’m itching to use the word “rammy” in conversation.
As penance for not finding anything much new for you to read, I’ve linked to one of my favourite archive pieces, and included an exhaust(ive/ing) selection of newsletter recommendations.
Helen
PS. Jonathan’s Sisyphean beverage creation efforts made Private Eye.
The Money Shot (originally New Yorker, here from some bootleg blog)
After several failed attempts at “making contacts” in the main room, Damon Rose joined the long line outside one of the dosed doors in the back. But when his turn came he was passed over again and again as the door flew open, a voice boomed, “New girl, please!,” and another spangled woman elbowed by him. A despairing Rose turned to the closest actress, who was shellacked in hair spray and leaning against the wall. “You want to give me some pointers?” he appealed. She looked him over grudgingly, as if she were doing him a favor to lift her eyelids.
“Just get it hard,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and vanished. Rose returned to studying the shut door. The other men in the hallway kept their distance.
Stag films may serve as the male-bonding glue of bachelor parties, but in the occupational end of modern porn the male performers view one another with Darwinian teeth bared, aware of their endangered status. “Actresses have the power,” Alec Metro, one of the men in line, ruefully noted of the X-rated industry. A former fire fighter who claimed to have lost a bid for a job to affirmative action, Metro was already divining that porn might not be the ideal career choice for escaping the forces of what he called “reverse discrimination.”
Susan Faludi’s landmark 1995 longread on the adult industry focuses on the men involved, and their jealousy and fears and performance anxiety.
Help! I’m Drowning in Newsletters
Ever wanted to have more piles of unread emails in your inbox? Look no further than my recommendations for other newsletters to subscribe to—
John McWhorter’s It Bears Mentioning: the linguistics professor’s newsletter is currently serialising his new book, The Elect.
Morning Call, New Statesman: I can’t steal my opinions from Stephen on the NS podcast any more, so thankfully he also puts them in newsletter form.
Red Box, The Times: Patrick Maguire is very funny, a quality on which I place a premium when reading about the Labour party or Robert Jenrick.
The Weekly Dish, Andrew Sullivan: are you even heterodox if you don’t get annoyed by Andrew Sullivan’s mixture of good and bad opinions, bro?
Jesse Singal’s Singal Minded: for when you hate Twitter but love Twitter beef.
Caroline Crampton’s No Complaints: Caroline works at the Browser, and listens to way too many podcasts, so her recs are always good.
Nellie Bowles’s Chosen by Choice: Nellie is converting to Judaism and chronicling her experience. For those of us whose current knowledge of Jewish conversion is entirely reliant on Charlotte in Sex and the City.
The Browser: you have to pay, but in return you get links to five outstanding stories every day.
The OK Karen: not sure I can sell this any better than Glosswitch herself, who describes her newsletter as “the life and opinions of a batshit Mumsnet thread made flesh”.
Anne Helen Petersen, Culture Study: I get the free version of this newsletter, from one of Buzzfeed’s (former) smartest hires.
Jonn Elledge: trains and maps, baby.
Sophie Wilkinson’s Sidenotes: irregular updates on culture.
CNN Reliable Sources: what Hannity insanity is Fox News up to now? This is how I find out.
Wanted: Potential explanations.
Quick Links
Your occasional Barry Gardiner fix is here.
“People sometimes ask me why I got bomb threats, which is a ridiculous question. I don’t know. Ask people why they send bomb threats. And how can I answer that? As if something I did could ever deserve a threat to my life… People want to attribute the hate to one thing, one moment, one time I messed up, one story I filed. I think people do that because they want to feel safe. They want to think it will never happen to them. If you can blame me somehow, then you can distance yourself from it all.” (Lyz Lenz)
See you next time, unless you end up in a fatal rammy…