Now with broken shutter! And it happened at the worst time, too: right in the middle of a roll of very nicely composed landscape shots of anincrediblymoody and evil looking morning sky. It had a touchy film advance timing too, as most Yashicamat’s do, apparently– this one flubbed advancing from frames five through seven. Still, it made some astonishing and clear images in its time– and for two hundred dollars, it was a splendid way to start working with medium format film.
I think this may finally be the end of it, if I can’t find anyone to repair it. Now, the camera shopdidhave a pretty nice looking 4×5 view camera for only a thousand….
No! Fuck that! I’ll to save my pennies and get an 8×10 view camera! GO BIG OR GO HOME!
Browsing tumblr for all of thirty seconds netted me a moderately re-posted diatribe aimed at a positively ancient joke, wherein the author of the diatribe either doesn’t understand that said joke is not actually utilized as a serious philosophical attack on body modification, body image politics or gender oriented philosophy. Or they may be operating under the delusion that an amateur “postmodern critique” of a crusty “old people making fun of young people” type joke has any merit outside of facile external validation from an insular peer group.
If you have to ask “Does this make me a bad person?” or “Am I wrong for thinking…?”, it probably does. If your intent is to offer a serious critique and/or condemnation of a particular aspect of social conservatism, the energy expended on your “heroic defense of freedom of choice” would be better utilized if it were not directed at a soft, easy target like an unfunny, widely forwarded joke about a punk rocker and a parrot. The audience for this joke consists of aging social conservatives who have interacted and are uncomfortable with young people who are comfortable with their body image to openly express themselves. It is not being distributed as a part of a larger intimidation and propaganda campaign.
Wasting your time on bad jokes only paints you as an unfunny, touchy, tedious cretin who cannot comprehend the concept of “humor” outside of all jokes being a form of rape or physical assault– and as one who finds critique of more worthy items too challenging.
No, I’m not linking to it or reblogging it.
IF YOU DON’T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR, DON’T TRY TO BE FUNNY.
FUCK ‘EM IF THEY CAN’T TAKE A JOKE.
What’s the point of conspiracy theories? Even if the most ridiculous ones were true, and jew lizard aliens from the Pleiades really did kill JFK with a laser and flew hologram cruise missiles into the World Trade Center, they’ve already gotten away with it, and there’s nothing a bunch of alcoholic, paint-sniffing paranoid maniacs are going to be able to do about it. Wouldn’t the person who’s truly interested in the welfare of humanity instead try and busy themselves with the duties of figuring out how to survive under the jew lizard shapeshifter alien government?
What’s the point of spreading histrionic paranoia to other easily excited paranoids?