As much as I mildly despair about the functionality of Tumblr, I’m forever grateful we don’t have the creative interface of other social media platforms.
I keep seeing youtubers talking about how the new algorithm on their creative dash is so detrimental to their mental health, both in terms of how they feel about themselves as creators and the content they make—dreading to find out their performance rating, regardless of whether they enjoyed it or not. And it’s the same across multiple other platforms, TickTock, Facebook, Instagram. Fuck, I’ve even seen people with business accounts complaining on Twitter.
And then there’s Tumblr. Where sometimes you can’t find your own posts even though you know you tagged it, time stamps are hidden in the ellipses at the top right hand corner of the post, your bread recipe keeps getting flagged as porn, too much punctuation causes asks not to send, and checking your activity feed causes the app to crash. You want to know your trending numbers? You want to know what’s performing well? Fuck you, guess.
18k notes, and 99.999% of them are people finding out we have time stamps.
Cropped image of medieval-stylized printed text, focused on a line which reads: “This wenche thikke”
/end image description]
Thank you for adding this image description! Just wanted to clarify that it’s not stylised, but actual Middle English. The text is from The Canterbury Tales.
Okay, had to track it down. It’s from the Reeve’s Tale, and it’s a description of a 20yo young woman:
This wenche thikke and wel y-growen was, With camuse nose and yën greye as glas; With buttokes brode and brestes rounde and hye, But right fair was hir heer, I wol nat lye.
In modern English (had to look up “camuse”, so that’s as good as my source, but I know the rest)
This wench was thick and well-grown With a pug nose and eyes grey as glass; With buttocks broad and breasts round and high, But right fair was her hair, I will not lie.
The fact that Chaucer had “big butt” and “I will not lie” within two lines of each other is causing me disproportionate amusement. Also the fact that “this wenche thikke” works equally well in Middle English and in modern slang.
nice to know people have always been fokin hornby for thikke wenches
I’m all for analysing how tragedy is meaningful and important and so on but I do think people really underrate the “wanna see something fucked up?” instinct as a reason for engaging with fiction.
i was looking for special cat feeders because ours are gluttons who gorge themselves and i found this one…device:
this sounded fun so i checked the comments and…
im??
come to the dark side we have dry food scattered in strategically designed green colored plastic tubes
Catit stuff are great - seriously, they put a lot of thought into it and I have a lot of their stuff and the cats love it.
But we bought the Food Maze and well, they did not think this one out.
see that? awesome! They have to paw the food out and down various levels and honestly Punkin loved it, it was his own personal snack dispenser whenever he pleased.
but the fatal flaw to this device is…it does not have a lid.
I love stories like this because there are dog feeders like this also. My favorite stories about those are where the dog flips everything over to get at the food.
I’m mean, it’s technically correct.
We have the food maze and I am so glad neither of our cars are inclined to shove themselves in the top like that….
modern Scheherazade reciting summaries of Internet drama to the king
“And that,” said Scherezade, “Is why the saga of Thanfiction is second in fame only to the story of the Snapewives on the astral plane in early 2000’s internet fandom drama.”
Freshly interested, the king rubbed his eyes, fighting the pull of sleep. “The what on the astral plane?”
Scherezade’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you never heard of the Snapewives? Much has been said of their marriage, most of it cruel, but the real story is far more interesting and complex than most remember.”
“You must tell me,” he demanded, and Scherezade knew that she had once again caught him on her hook. All that remained was to reel him in.
“My king,” she said, arching her back in a dramatic yawn, “I cannot; the hour is late, and I am far too tired to do it justice. I am sure I would forget important details, with my mind so clouded with sleep!”
The king chewed his lip, still fighting a battle he had lost many nights before. “Very well,” he said. “We will sleep, and you will tell me about it tomorrow when you are rested.”
Scherezade smiled a secret smile and closed her eyes, safe for another night, already planning how best to bait the king into asking about the story of hivliving.
