Grieving Beverly Katz.
This is literally so fucking important
The planet we live on, with all its natural spectacularity, is probably the most magnificent thing we can ever experience. We shouldn’t take it for granted. We shouldn’t think of environment problems as petty or that nothing can be done to solve them. The nature was here before us. We depend on it. It makes this planetary home what it is.
Learn how to be nature friendly. We can make this place better if we are willing to. I am glad that Earth Day reminds this internationally and annually. (GIFs: headlikeanorange, gifdrome, sci-universe)
This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
“Broad City,” a new series starting on Wednesday on Comedy Central, is funny, and, like so many other shows on that channel, brazen about skewering the millennial generation as hapless 20-somethings with no ambition, talent or self-respect. These slackers happen to be women, as the show’s creators, Abbi Jacobson and Ilana Glazer, play comic versions of themselves. The show is as puerile and scatological as any male-centered series on Comedy Central, but oddly enough, it’s the self-degradation that gives it feminist cachet. As Sarah Silverman proved with her series on Comedy Central, “The Sarah Silverman Program,” which ran from 2007 to 2010, female characters are increasingly entitled to be as indolent, selfish and incompetent as male ones. That was not imaginable in earlier eras of television. The most successful sitcom heroines were plucky strivers, and the comedy lay in the pratfalls they took to achieve their goals — Lucy trying to break into show business on “I Love Lucy,” Mary Richards trying to mix love and career on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” or Murphy Brown trying to get her way on all things”