carterp3ggy

accioharo:

brainsella:

itsraininbritishmen:

type40:

roachpatrol:

court-of-ocelot:

laureljupiter:

court-of-ocelot:

culturalrebel:

aka “Elitism is my middle name”

I like how Moffat would say that Reinette - a female character that he wrote into the show - is obviously a perfect match for the Doctor based on her level of ‘civilization’ and education.

As opposed to oh say…Rose Tyler - a lower-class girl who never went to university - whom the Doctor actually fell in love with and did settle down with in another universe.

This quote just has it all, doesn’t it?

- The elitism

- The dig at Rose Tyler and RTD, by extension

- The elevation of ‘his’ character at the expense of existing ones.

- The implication that Madame de Pompadour - one of the most powerful women in the country - would of course drop everything she had worked for to go and ‘settle down’ with a man who is basically a homeless spacehobo.

People who call Moffat a talentless hack are mistaken.  It takes some skill to cram that much fail into just three sentences.

Hah, excellent Moffat-criticism here. He is so petty, and so unequipped to write insightful sci-fi.

Like, okay, let’s pretend for a second that by “educated and civilised” he means “has a lot of knowledge and social insight” (which is a valid thing to look for in a romantic partner) rather than, you know, “rich, fancy and subservient” (which is what Moffat expects people to look for in a romantic partner).

… I really don’t think that an 18th century aristocrat has more understanding of science and society than a 21st person without A levels but with a working television. And in any case, if the Doctor was really looking for people who are Intellectual Equals, he’d surely look in the future, when people understand time travel, and have wikipedia installed in their brains, or whatever. Or AIs! I can’t imagine anyone more educated and ‘civilised’ than AI people!

Just, one thing I really loved about RTD’s Who arcs - which Moffat clearly didn’t understand at all - was that EVERYTHING the companions knew was useful - Harry Potter trivia! Game-show quickness! Fast typing! - and that the, like, real-world hierarchy of skills and marketability was always shown as less important than courage and compassion.

WITHOUT A LEVELS BUT WITH A WORKING TELEVISION

YES THIS.

I’m imagining the real Madame de Pompadour and how very unimpressed she would be by Steven Moffat declaring his ~admiration for her, but

wow

did this man just admit that he think the position of Companion is actually the Doctor’s maîtresse-en-titre?  Jesus wept.

That is exactly what this man thinks, and what he writes also. He thinks women are wired to ‘cling’ and men are wired to want to escape them, and the only way a relationship can be agreeable to both parties is if the woman accepts that they can only spend time together when the dude initiates it.

… Suddenly I am kinda surprised that Sherlock and Irene didn’t set up a long-distance relationship where she spends her days in an orientalist parody of a villa, waiting for Sherlock and passing the time taking luxurious bubble-baths and emotionlessly spanking female nobility.

Oh my god this is some sick shit— and really, really, really highlights how much Moffat doesn’t understand the fundamental heart of the show he’s fucking running. If the Doctor was so hot for intelligent, well educated, civilized women why the fuck did he ever leave his home planet? Why has he only ever had one Gallifreyan companion after he left his granddaughter to go her own way? Romana was foisted on him by the time lord ellimist, he didn’t go picking her out of a catalogue. 

The Doctor runs around with soldiers and schoolkids and teachers and sailors and students and journalists and shop girls and alien refugees and orphans and robot dogs and barbarians and private detective penguins and renegade archaeologists. If he wanted a slice of properly civilized girlfriend he had the whole universe to go pick one out from, and he never did till Moffat wrote him launching himself smooch-first at the lady in the fancy dress and historically inaccurate boobies.

Goddamn I am so mad. 

Oh my god. OH my GOD. If you even like moffat, just read this. WHAT A FUCKING ASS> I AM SO MAD

People who call Moffat a talentless hack are mistaken.  It takes some skill to cram that much fail into just three sentences.

when is moffat gonna stop trying to suck his own dick

What’s ironic is the way that Moffat wrote Madame de Pompadour, we didn’t even SEE how intelligent and savvy she was. She spent the entire episode pining after the Doctor, a man she met like four times in her life for a maximum of a few hours each visit, and Moffat’s like “here’s three lines of dialogue from the Doctor talking about how cool she was historically, but we don’t actually need to SHOW THAT in the episode”. It was a degrading portrayal of a fascinating historical figure. But oh her speech is all proper and smart sounding, and we even have a scene where she’s talking to the Doctor’s ‘low class’ companion (Rose) and all Rose can do is be like “yeh” because she’s not ‘well spoken’ so that obviously shows how fab she is. 

But UGH YEAH this reeks of elitism, and I’m not down with that. Even Martha, who was a doctor in training, wasn’t valued by the narrative just because she’s ‘smart’, but because of the person she was on the whole. 

(Did he say this before or after JE? Because if it’s after, he’s just blatantly denying canon since the duplicate Doctor DID settle down with a girl ‘not like that’. Then again this is the guy who said that JE was the Doctor’s way of ‘getting rid of a clingy girlfriend’ so god knows.)

kayliehasablog

abbythenormalone:

fortheloveofneps:

marththebland:

I can’t believe this is what our president and vice president spend their time on. We’re in 15 trillion dollars of debt, and millions of people are homeless, and abortion is still legal, and instead of signing bills to fix these things our president is doing this. Well I’m glad you’re having fun, you fucking bitch. Fuck the United States. /rant

WAITNDO YOU THINK THISNIS A REAL THING????
THIS IS SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE OH MY GOD

THIS IS THE BEST POST EVER I’M CRYING 

carterp3ggy
ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

ppyajunebug:

thelethifoldwitch:

Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure

But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.

Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.

Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.

Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured by their classmates for having been born.

Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)

Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.

Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?

Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.

Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.

Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.

Imagine the ghosts.

Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)

Imagine the students unable to trust each other everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.

Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.

Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.

Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.

Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.

Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.

Imagine the students who leave the wixen world hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.

Imagine the students who never use magic again.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it
hippie-love-and-other-drugs

gravi-tas:

partytrasha:

huffingtonpost:

Matt Damon Does Ice Bucket Challenge With Toilet Water For 800 Million Without Clean H2O

Matt Damon was conflicted when friends Jimmy Kimmel and Ben Affleck called on him to complete the ALS ice bucket challenge.

Find out who Damon challenges here. 

This I can deal with. A*, 11/10.

four for you Matt you go Matt