In-foooooooooooor-mah! YanosaydiggadosaynoIgoblaaaaam a licky licky boom down!

Photo via Twitter

A teenager from Alabama took a photo in front of a concentration camp where an estimated 1,000,000 people were killed. She did so while smiling. As you might have guessed, that did not sit well with the internet. In a New York Post article on the now-infamous Breanna Mitchell Auschwitz selfie, the writer quotes a particularly vitriolic response that simply said, "Did you manage to take any of you laughing inside a gas chamber or maybe one with your head stuck in a cremator?" A fair question which I don't believe she took the time to answer.

In an instant, Breanna became as close to the Devil as you can get without being Donald Sterling. Business Insider collected some of the more amusing insults and reactions from Twitter, which amounted to "fuck you" and little else. Despite this concerted effort to make her feel bad about herself, Breanna has continued to publicly defend her actions. It's almost like she has so much self-esteem and so little self-awareness that she'd have to be the only kind of person who would be dumb enough to take a selfie at a concentration camp.

By being completely ignorant of how some would interpret her vague digital communication (the only thing that's obvious from her photo is that she's happy and she's at Auschwitz. The rest is not clear), she's influenced a global conversation on the limits of self-involvement. Some have come to her defense, reminding us all that she's just a kid with a dead dad who shared her love of history. Others are plenty happy to keep fucking with her, which has pushed Breanna to make her Twitter page private. The internet is paying attention, and forming strong opinions about a picture she took over a month ago. Isn't that something to be proud of? She's already proud of herself for going to Auschwitz. Why not be proud of this too?

Can't she take some solace in the fact that, even if she's got haters to the left of her and haters to the right of her, that at least they know her name? I defy you to come up with a stronger, more valuable currency than recognition. OK, money's pretty up there on the currency scale, but you know who has tons of money? Famous people. More human beings have seen Breanna's selfie than will ever pay to see the new Zach Braff film. Try to let that sink in.

The commenters that made Breanna so infamous are, of course, the same ones who hate that she took a photo of herself at a concentration camp. In a misguided effort to stem the tide of selfies, we've once again created even more incentive to take selfies. Everyone wins in this twisted media 69—the outrageous get to see their face everywhere, and feel important. The outraged get to register their disgust and wait for the likes and faves to roll in. 

We actually need more Breannas in the world, not fewer. Selfies, like Pet Rocks, bell bottoms, and cocaine before them, are the ultimate signfier of modern social worth, but also targets for mockery. They actually help make everyone happier. Selfies can give meaning to lives where none previously existed—validating some and giving the rest an object of ridicule to make them feel superior.

Those that love selfies too will shower you with praise for taking such great photos. Those who hate selfies will rage about you on the internet because you are so good at taking selfies. Benny Winfield Jr., aka mrpimpgoodgame, has 227,300 followers on Instagram even though he takes the same fucking picture over and over and over again. He's clearly overflowing with self-esteem. Pimping good game is in his name for God's sake. For all we know, some of his selfies could have been taken at funerals. Would that make his game any less "pimp good"?

The selfie trend—if you can even call something this ubiquitous a mere "trend"—has spawned equal amounts of anger and admiration. For some, it's a reminder that human civilization has completely lost track of where its priorities truly belong. Why aren't we doing more for the poor? What about Afghanistan? Can we stop the cataclysmic effects of global warming? When is Johnny Depp going to find a good script to star in? No one is talking about this shit, because they're too busy taking photos of themselves at the 9/11 memorial!

For everyone else, it's just a fun thing to do with their free time, and a great way to let the world know how happy/sad you are. It's a very effective status update for a culture that is obsessed with status. I am at a visually interesting or famous location! I am wearing a great outfit that is flattering on my figure! You don't think about historical context or social propriety, because the only vital information you are hoping to impart is where you're at and how you look. As I said earlier, that's the only thing that we can gather from Breanna's photo. She is at Auschwitz and she's happy. She didn't say "I love Hitler" or espouse any political views. The only reason why Breanna is on the receiving end of so much hatred is because she had the audacity to smile at a concentration camp. I hate to break it to you all, but Breanna Mitchell smiling at Auschwitz is not the worst thing that ever happened at Auschwitz. I dare say that it's not even in the top 5,000.

Taking a selfie while writing this article. How meta.

This situation might have played out differently if Breanna had simply frowned in her photo instead of looking happy, like we all should when we vacation in Poland. No one could accuse her of insensitivity, since tourists take pictures at concentration camps all the time. This particular photo just happened to have its photographer inside the frame. If she had done what we all wanted her to do, and register her solemn contemplation, it's likely she would have escaped our scorn. It doesn't matter that she might have actually been happy. It's just that she's not allowed to show it.

Even if she'd appeared sad, what if her expression wasn't satisfactorily somber? What if she just wasn't sad enough? As you can see in my picture here, I am sad. I'm not having much fun writing this piece. That's mostly because I'm imagining all of the mean things people will say to me in the comments on this article and on Twitter. Also, my computer is running slowly since I have so many tabs open. It's called research, folks.

I'm a cynical man who's been disappointed more times than I can count—mostly by the Dodgers and the TV show Lost, but also other people. Breanna Mitchell is a teenager from Alabama who just graduated from high school and has a deceased father according to this Washington Post story. Other than that, she's probably had a fairly typical life for a privileged American teen. She is not a miserable bastard like me, though now she might be. She has the kind of fame where you have to consider changing your name and moving to a small island nation that doubles as a tax shelter for various and sundry Koch brothers. Life for her is going to fucking suck for awhile, but it's not as bad as it might seem today.

She can always remember that just around the corner is a Today Show or The View appearance where she can "come clean," "apologize," and "address her detractors." She's famous now, which is not something I can say for myself. The selfies I take kinda suck, so I continue to hope and pray for my moment of glory. Breanna can always take her moment of fame with her wherever she goes in her adult life. Also, unlike those unfortunate souls who died at Auschwitz, Breanna gets to keep living, which is a plus on her ledger. 

Whether or not we collectively appreciate this trend of documenting everything through cell phone photos, it's here to stay. The internet can try to shame teens as much as it wants, but shame didn't stop them from smoking weed in the 60s. Fear and embarrassment don't convince high school kids to stop fucking and having babies before they're ready. You want to stop kids from taking selfies where tragedies took place? Put up a sign. The sign should have a picture of Breanna Mitchell with a giant X over her face. Underneath that, write the caption, "No Selfies." Just be prepared for absolutely nothing to change, because if there's one thing that teenagers love more than themselves, it's ignoring rules. 

Follow Dave Schilling on Twitter.

¿Habéis intentado alguna vez pelar un mango? Si lo habéis hecho como si se tratara de una fruta normal y el mango en cuestión estaba maduro (como debe ser) habréis comprobado que la combinación de su piel dura con es pulpa tan blanda y jugosa da como resultado un desastre en la cocina y un mango aplastado.

Pues bien, si no queréis que eso os vuelva ocurrir, aquí tenéis una guía sobre cómo pelar y cortar un mango sin armar un estropicio, logrando unos cortes limpios que mantienen todo el jugo de esta deliciosa fruta tropical.

Cómo pelar y cortar un mango

Como hemos dicho, el mango tiene una piel relativamente dura comparado con la pulpa. Eso dificulta pelarlo como si fuera una manzana o un melocotón. Es como como intentar pelar una ciruela con piel de naranja. Afortunadamente, no todo en la fisionomía del mango juega en nuestra contra, pues esta fruta tiene un curioso hueso plano que nos ayudará a obtener casi toda su carne fácilmente.

Lo primero que debemos hacer es averiguar la orientación de este hueso plano. Eso es bastante sencillo, simplemente apoyamos el mango en la mesa y lo normal es que, por acción de la gravedad, el mango se quede de tal manera que el hueso plano estará en paralelo a la superficie de la mesa.

El siguiente paso es realizar dos cortes paralelos a ambos lados de este hueso, aproximadamente a un centímetro del centro cada uno. Así evitaremos encontrarnos con el hueso, y obtendremos dos partes solo con pulpa, y otra con poco más que el hueso.

Por último, con ayuda de un cuchillo pequeño y afilado, realizamos una incisión por el perímetro junto a la piel, y varios cortes longitudinales y transversales, pero sin llegar atravesar la piel. Luego, con ayuda de una cuchara podemos ir separando estos trozos fácilmente de la piel. También podemos darle la vuelta a la piel como si fuera una granada (o un calcetín)

Con este sencillo truco para pelar y cortar un mango nos ahorraremos sudor y lágrimas a la hora de utilizar esta rica fruta en la cocina. Existen vaciadores de mango en el mercado que pueden ayudarnos a deshuesarlo, pero realmente es tan fácil así que no es necesario un trasto más en el cajón.

En Directo al Paladar | Ensalada de jamón serrano y melocotones marinados. Receta
En Directo al Paladar | Receta de ensalada de mango, aguacate y feta con zumo de lima

-
La noticia Cómo pelar y cortar un mango sin armar un estropicio fue publicada originalmente en Directo al Paladar por minue.

Me derrito de pensarlo. / FACEBOOK - MISTURA

Ya lo dijeron los sabios griegos de Megalo: el verano ya llegó, ya llegó, ya llegó, y la fiesta comenzó, comenzó, comenzó. Yo añadiría que comenzó, sobre todo, para los heladeros, que hacen su julio, su agosto y su septiembre en estas fechas gracias al calorón y a las ansias por meternos en la boca cosas frías que nos entran por su culpa. Consumimos mucho helado, sí, pero eso no significa que lo consumamos bueno porque, reconozcámoslo de una vez, la media de este producto en España es tirando a normalita, y si nos atrevemos a compararla con la italiana, me atrevería a decir que un poco cutre.

A pesar de todo, no faltan heladerías excelentes en la mayoría de nuestras grandes ciudades: en Madrid y Barcelona, que son las que más controlo, podría citar a Mistura o a Delacrem como ejemplo de que las cosas se pueden hacer mejor que bien en este terreno. Pero hay que saber identificarlas, sobre todo cuando viajas y no cuentas con recomendaciones de nativos. Ésta es mi pequeña guía para distinguir los negocios heladeros honestos de los timazos que, por desgracia, tanto abundan en nuestro queridísimo país.

Colorinchi por aquí, churretón por allá

Una moda relativamente reciente se ha extendido por las heladerías hispanas: la de presentar el producto en montañas de formas cremoso-voluptuosas y colores estridentes, como si varios unicornios hubieran defecado en los mostradores llenándolos de excrementos con toda la gama del arco iris. Evita los locales donde encuentres estos mondongos chillones, porque seguramente estarán fabricados en alguna planta industrial y su sabor será tan eléctrico y sintético como su color. Si dichos mondongos estan rematados con churretones de chocolate o de sirope haciendo formas geométricas, o floripondios de frutas y dulces –poca broma, he visto hasta huevos Kinder y blisters de pastillas azules en un helado llamado 'Viagra'–, directamente sal corriendo: los heladeros sensatos no necesitan atraer la atención con esta clase de horteradas.

Comparativa helado chungo vs. caca de unicornio. / EUROPE NET-YOUTUBE

Heladero, a tu helado

Las buenas heladerías suelen estar centradas en hacer buen helado. A lo sumo venden productos que tradicionalmente han estado asociados al mismo, como la horchata, los granizados o los pasteles. Si una heladería da también desayunos, meriendas, sandwiches, bocatas, pizzas y hasta copas , lo más probable es que tanta oferta les haya obligado a comprar el helado hecho a alguna marca industrial, y lo que te compres allí sea tan casero como un frigodedo.

Verde, blanco y rojo

Unas pocas heladerías españolas, casi siempre históricas, cuentan con auténticas raíces italianas, puesto que este país es el rey en esta disciplina. Sin embargo, la bandera tricolor, los dibujos de góndolas venecianas y los nombres tipo "Giovanni", "Roma" o "Napoli" suelen ser usados como reclamo por más de un desaprensivo para vender como autentico gelato hielo industrial saborizado. Precaución, amigo conductor, con las italianeces, la misma que deberás mostrar ante palabras gastadísimas y habitualmente engañosas como "artesanal", que cualquier día van a aparecer hasta en los cortes de nata y fresa de Camy, si es que existen todavía. 

Congelando en la oscuridad

Las heladerías más rigurosas no muestran el helado en aparatosos mostradores: lo tienen bien guardadito en cajones metálicos refrigerados independientes que sólo se destapan cuando un cliente pide una determinada variedad. Así no sólo lo conservan mejor, sino que evitan uno de los mayores peligros al que se enfrenta el helado: los cambios de temperatura, fatales para su cremosidad. Tampoco nos debemos poner demasiado estrictos con esto -existen buenas heladerías con el producto al aire-, pero si lo ves, es probable que te encuentres ante un establecimiento de calidad.

Así, sí. / FACEBOOK - DELACREM

La prueba del cucurucho

El cuidado de los detalles distingue a cualquier buen negocio hostelero de uno mediocre. En las heladerías, este principio se materializa en los cucuruchos sobre los que se sirven las bolas de helado. Si son de auténtico barquillo, vamos por el buen camino. Si tienen esa especie de conos de plástico comestible anti-humedad, que no cruje pero sí se te queda pegado en las muelas como si fuera cemento, es posible que no apliquen demasiado mimo en la elaboración de lo que les ponen encima. En establecimientos como Tomo II elaboran sus propios barquillos sin gluten a la vista de los clientes, otra señal de que has acertado en la elección heladística. 

El helado no debe estar frío

Sí, has leído bien. Para que nuestro paladar pueda apreciar bien sus matices, el helado se debe servir a unos -12º, una temperatura relativamente alta dentro del universo de los congelados. No se trata de que vayas por el mundo con un termómetro en plan gastropsicópata, sino de entender que si te sirven un cacho hielo traído de Más Allá del Muro, la heladería en cuestión no pilota.

En temporada

El mejor indicio para saber si una heladería elabora su oferta con frutas frescas de verdad es su respeto a la temporalidad. Si los helados rotan y se apuesta por sabores cuyos ingredientes estén en su máximo esplendor, buena señal. Si siempre son las mismas variedades frutales estés en primavera o en otoño, prepárate para fruncir el ceño. En este momento veraniego, serían apuestas razonables el melocotón, la ciruela, el melón o la sandía. 

La vista engaña; el olfato, no

Desconfía de tus ojos cuando vayas a comprar un helado. Ellos te dirán que cuanto más chillón es el color y más parecido al del ingrediente original de la variedad, mejor será el producto. Tú deberás llamarles mentirosos y pensar que no es así: cuando no hay colorantes sintéticos de por medio, los helados artesanales presentan tonos más bien suaves, incluso a veces poco atractivos. Algo parecido ocurre con el sabor, que ha de tender más a lo sutil que a lo intenso, y sobre todo no puede cometer el pecado mortal heladero por excelencia: el exceso de azúcar. Recuerda también que los helados, si son buenos, emiten un fino y leve aroma a pesar de la baja temperatura, así que olisquéalos cual perrillo sin miedo a que tus amistades piensen que estás como un cencerro.

No sólo crema

Un último consejo: el buen producto se encuentra a veces en lugares insospechados. En algunos establecimientos en los que venden alimentos originarios de América del Sur se pueden encontrar un tipo de helados atómicos hechos con fruta tropical y otros ingredientes sanos y deliciosos, conocidos como paletas. Son una opción para los alérgicos a la proteína de vaca o intolerantes a la lactosa, ya que muchos están 100% libres de lácteos. Los de Helados Green están hechos en Madrid, son ultrasupermegarrefrescantes y los dueños de la empresa son tan majetes que te dan la receta para que te los hagas en casa (clicando en cada helado).

¿Conoces buenas heladerías en el sitio en el que vives? ¡Compártelas en los comentarios!

Pro: You can do the Tom Cruise Risky business across your floor in your undies without a care in the world.

Con: If you slip and fall, that’s all you.

Pro: Your leftovers stay exactly where you leave them, from cheesecake to steak and lobster.

Con: Your leftovers stay exactly where you leave them. There is no one there to clean out the fridge for you, and it sucks having to make constant trips to the dumpster with produce gone bad.

Pro: You come home to a quiet, peaceful house at the end of the day, perfect for you to unwind.

Con: There is no one there to share in your immediate excitement for things, like when someone new gets killed on Game of Thrones.

Pro: You only have to clean up the mess of one person.

Con: You’re only one person. Rent and bills ain’t cheap.

Pro: You can hosts guests at your leisure or attend other parties and leave whenever you want, without having to worry about any cleanup or lingering guests.

Con: You have to invite people over if you ever want to lift something heavy, hang stuff, or build a bed. Trust me on that last one, I’ve had an Ikea metal frame and headboard just hanging out in my living room for about 5 months now.

Pro: You can talk to yourself without worrying about looking weird.

Con: There’s no one to talk to. It’s one thing to think out loud, it’s a whole other thing to start engaging your cat in conversation cause you’re desperate.

Pro: You have no roommate altercations. None. It’s never awkward, you’re never pissed off and no one ever bugs you about any of your habits.

Con: Your life could use a little more drama. As a result, you get way too invested in television characters.

Pro: Complete and total privacy for romantic exploits in any room of the house.

Con: Complete and total terror when you think about what you, a single twenty-something, would ever do should an intruder break into your house.

Pro: You never have to wait to use the bathroom or be concerned about hot water usage. Hour-long boiling hot shower? Yes please!

Con: It is always your turn to clean the bathroom. Ugh.

Pro: You are an army of one. You can do it all–kill bugs, pay bills, unload all your groceries in a single trip! Because if you don’t, no one else will.

Con: You start to wonder if you’ll ever be able to incorporate another person into your flawlessly fine-tuned routine.

Think underwear-clad, leftover-eating nights for you? If so, go for it! Living alone may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

This is not your average brunch.

BEFORE WE START, FOR THOSE IN THE DARK...

Dim sum (written 點心 in Chinese, pronounced "dian xin" in Mandarin) is a Cantonese-style meal of small, bite-sized proportions that is usually taken on a weekend morning.

Creative Commons / Flickr: roboppy

Here are some of the most delectable dim sum dishes you'll need to try:

Fried Radish Cakes

Radish cakes (or sometimes called "turnip cakes") are made of shredded radish that's been mixed with flour and rice, then mashed and fried into cake bricks. The result is a bed of soft, starchy filling with browned, crispy edges.

Creative Commons / Flickr: liquidx

Rice Noodle Rolls

Rice noodles in dim sum are usually served as a thin, wide layer of rice noodle wrap that's filled with shrimp, pork, beef, and/or vegetables. It's then doused in soy sauce for a delicious contrast of starch and acid.

Creative Commons / Flickr: avlxyz

View Entire List ›

Meet Amazon Amanda. Her story is really quite cute.

Here's Amazon Amanda visiting New York for a session with one of her smallest fans, the 5'3" Sergio Miranda from New Jersey, USA.

Barcroft Media

He adores her and it's actually really sweet.

And kinda weird. Seriously, watch the video at the bottom of this post.

Barcroft / Via youtube.com

She grew too big to be a mainstream model, but became an Amazon model, and today she's worshipped by fans all over the world.

Barcroft

The most extreme request she got was from a terminally ill client who asked her to crush him to death.

Amanda says: "Being a professional Amazon model you do get your fair share of strange requests. But being offered £30,000 to squash someone to death was the most bizarre. Of course I said no."

Barcroft

View Entire List ›

Patton Oswalt has a second book in the works. Recently, Amazon posted the pre-order page for his upcoming book titled Silver Screen Fiend: Learning About Life from an Addiction to Film. Here's the book's official description:

New York Times bestselling author, comedian, and actor Patton Oswalt shares his entertaining memoir about coming of age as a performer and writer in the late ’90s while obsessively watching classic films at the legendary New Beverly Cinema in Los Angeles.

Between 1995 and 1999, Patton Oswalt lived with an unshakeable addiction. It wasn’t drugs, alcohol, or sex. It was film. After moving to L.A., Oswalt became a huge film buff, absorbing classics and new releases at least three nights a week at the New Beverly Cinema. Silver screen celluloid became Patton’s life schoolbook, informing his notions of acting, writing, comedy, and relationships. Set in the nascent days of the alternative comedy scene, Oswalt’s memoir chronicles his journey from fledgling stand-up comedian to self-assured sitcom actor, with the colorful New Beverly collective supporting him all along the way.

Silver Screen Fiend follows Oswalt's last solo book venture, 2011's Zombie Spaceship Wasteland, and will be available via Scribner on January 6, 2015. You can pre-order the book now on Amazon.

Illustration by Sam Taylor

Sex! What’s it all about? "Fanny farts" and creeping to the bathroom with cum dribbling down your leg, if this article in the Metro is anything to go by. Hannah Gale, who wrote the “The 21 Unsexiest Things About Sex,” says she’s “just being honest” and challenging “unrealistic” sex scenes in rom-coms. But honestly, if you’re that fucking basic that your view of sex is in any way influenced by rom-coms, then I’m sorry, you actually deserve shit sex. She doesn’t even preface her list with any real acknowledgment that sex can be great fun, or that women’s pleasure is important. It comes across like “women don’t really enjoy sex, it’s all just so dirty and embarrassing.” Way to go, Hannah.

The article’s been shared over 112,000 times on social media. No doubt by the sort of women who spend their weekends listening to Kylie and drinking white wine spritzers. The kind of people who bought Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus in the 90s and rabbit dildos in the noughties—but only "for a laugh," because Samantha from Sex and the City had one. I refuse to believe any men who aren’t called Percy or Harold shared this story because given the chance most guys would shag a watermelon so long as they a) didn’t have to wear a condom and b) could cum inside it. Like they give a shit about awkwardness. Just kidding, fellas. I think?

There’s probably a serious point to be made about carnal politics and how, in our over-sanitized, digitized world, the squelchy business of sex can be such a source of embarrassment. I could keep certain political debate sites ticking over all week with my thoughts on the pressure for women to look a certain way and why, with the pornification of our culture and lack of useful education around modern sexuality. Or I could get into the fact that these days many women feel like sex is something to be performed rather than enjoyed with wanton inhibition—but I’d rather just talk about sex.

So here are my 21 sexiest things about sex. I did a callout for suggestions on Facebook and answers ranged from “Sacred sex where you commit an act of bonding” to “Rimming until your partner is begging you to fuck them.” Pigs. “Making love” is all well and good, but it always fucks you in the end. This list is about the delights of a fully-fledged passion. I’m not including the sexiest part of sex, which, of course, is our imagination and the mystery of what’s to come. You may not agree with my points and, despite my best efforts to fuck as many people as possible, I cannot reflect every single person’s experience of desire, so if you have better suggestions about what makes sex sexy, do let me know in the comments. Shit like that turns me on.

Photo author's own

PARIS LEES' 21 SEXIEST THINGS ABOUT SEX

1 – The smell. If you don't like the smell of sex, I don't know, maybe you're not human? Sex smells… sexy?

2 – Socks. When your trusted fuck-buddy stuffs socks inside your mouth and ties your hands behind your back while ramming you like a champ. You people all do that, right?

3 – When a guy cums inside you and leaves himself inside and then you feel it getting hard again and he fucks you and cums again without ever taking it out. Not only is that sexy, you don’t have to worry about fanny farts that way, Hannah.

4 – Squeezing a guy while he’s inside you. It’s kind of like your pussy/butt saying, "I got you, homie."

5 – Speaking of which, when he puts it in. And it feels like you’re sitting on an air freshener canister. Oh. My. Lord. What do you mean it’s "not all in yet"? Go, go gadget dick!

6 – When you can tell your lover is really into it. When they groan. And it’s genuine. When a guy looks like all his birthdays came at once because he’s here, with you, Paris “Yes it’s really me, and yes I really am like this in real life” Lees, and cumming like a Roman candle. You know that’s how it goes down in a PL session.

7 – Semen. Is great. I probably like it best when it comes as a surprise (no pun intended) like when you’re shagging some guy at a house party and some next dude walks in and you’re like “Hey, come join the fun!” but he’s so horny as he pulls his dick out he just ends up jizzing over the both of you (seriously, what had we all taken that night?)—or maybe like when you’re wanking some stranger off in a dark room and you suddenly feel this warm, wet dripping in-between your legs and down your thighs onto your leather miniskirt. Dude, you didn’t tell me you were close! Hot!

8 – Your underwear. Call me old-fashioned if you like, but I really don’t think you can go wrong slutting it up with lingerie, champagne, and copious amounts of you-know-what. It’s traditional, right?

9 – Fucking weirdoes. Literally fucking them. Like people you truly wouldn't want to introduce to your mates. Some of my most leg-shakingly good shags have been one-offs with pot-bellied perverts wearing dirty band T-shirts from the 90s. When you don't care what they think, you can let go and let loose! You might want to ask them to double up on the condoms, though.

10 – Using all the sex juices to get yourself off again. Fuck me that’s good.

11 – Watching yourself be a bad girl in the mirror. I really feel like a spit roast is wasted if the person in the middle doesn’t get to see how it looks, ’cause it looks fucking horny.

12 – Talking dirty. Agreed, it takes some chutzpah and genuine passion to pull it off, but what are you? A mouse? Or a fucker? You’re a fucker—so call me a slut and tell me to suck it.

13 – When you’ve been kissing and fondling for a while and getting really quite sticky down there and you look at your partner with a sense of urgency and tell them to rip your knickers off, at which point they know that you really, really want it, and down they come, right past your ankles, while the hot space between your legs throbs in anticipation. You know those hands are coming up.

14 – Looking into someone’s eyes as they cum and watching their pupils dilate. It’s really beautiful.

15 – Hearing your neighbors at it. Wow, turns me on. And fuck me, if anyone ever needed a good shag it was those miserable cunts next door.

16 – The sweat. Hannah has sweat on her list of unsexy things but Hannah is wrong. Just. Wrong. If you find someone attractive enough to let them bump uglies with you, Hannah, you really need to be down with their sweat. As do they with yours. Seriously sweetheart, this isn’t choir practice. It’s sex. If you’re doing it right, people perspire.

17 – Wetness. Man or woman, it's really hot when your lover starts leaking. If you're too grossed out by bodily fluids, I have to ask, what are you doing having sex? Sex is juicy. Good sex is even juicier. If you wanna know if he loves you so, forget his kiss—it's in his precum. Although kissing's hot too. Just all of it, I guess.

18 – Doggy style. This is hot when you just want to get fucked like an animal—a dog, say—and it has the added bonus of leaving your hands and mouth free should his friends require simultaneous servicing.

19 – Number 19 on Hannah’s list is “jawlock,” which I do sympathize with, really, I do. I’m a feminist. But then she’s like, “Imagine if you put that much effort into the gym, eh?” and I’m like, really? You’re thinking about going to the gym while you’re giving head? But anyway, Hannah’s list is WACK and number 19 on my list is “manhandling,” which is when a man with big strong hands and vein-y arms handles you. Grab my throat! Pull me hair! I can take it! 

20 – "Willies and vaginas," as Hannah so quaintly puts it. She thinks they're weird and ugly, but I think they're special buttons of never-ending pleasure. And I don’t care if you’re homosexual, heterosexual, or Capricorn—eating out is glorious. Warm wet tongues were made for warm wet clits.

21 – Rolling over back onto his dick again. Hannah rolled onto a wet patch. Hannah rolled the wrong way.

Follow Paris on Twitter

More from VICE:

I Tried to Find Love by Sniffing Strangers' T-Shirts

I Crashed a Climate Change Denial Conference in Las Vegas

It's Surprisingly Easy to Fake Being a Rich Kid of Instagram

Earlier this month, the World Health Organization (WHO) released guidelines for helping to prevent the spread of HIV in key populations. The group, which also monitors the globe for pandemic outbreaks, says we have to decriminalize sex work and drugs if we want to stop HIV.

Read more...

Nobody seriously paused to think about the different functions and their needs; they just took the position that if water comes in and water goes out, it is all pretty much the same and should be in the same room. Nobody thought about how the water from a shower or bathtub (greywater) is different from the water from a toilet (blackwater); it all just went down the same drain which connected to the same sewer pipe that gathered the rainwater from the streets, and carried it away to be dumped in the river or lake.

It is hard to find something that we actually got right in the modern bathroom. The toilet is too high (our bodies were designed to squat), the sink is too low and almost useless; the shower is a deathtrap (an American dies every day from bath or shower accidents). We fill this tiny, inadequately ventilated room with toxic chemicals ranging from nail polish to tile cleaners. We flush the toilet and send bacteria into the air, with our toothbrush in a cup a few feet away. We take millions of gallons of fresh water and contaminate it with toxic chemicals, human waste, antibiotics and birth control hormones in quantities large enough to change the gender of fish.

We mix up all our bodily functions in a machine designed by engineers on the basis of the plumbing system, not human needs. The result is a toxic output of contaminated water, questionable air quality and incredible waste. We just can't afford to do it this way any more.

This is, inherently, a design issue. With the occasional exception of how many urinals it features, a bathroom is a bathroom, whether the little figure on the door wears a dress or pants. Yet the need to pick and conform to a particular gender identity is embedded in the way we design buildings around segregated restroom facilities. It's a form of discrimination in the built environment... [...]

San Francisco code encourages businesses to offer at least one gender-neutral bathroom option, and Philadelphia requires it in city-owned buildings. For the most part, this means single stall, locking restrooms--which also benefit people with disabilities, parents assisting children, and more.

But couldn't we also rethink the design of multi-stall bathrooms? This could benefit everyone, not just those who feel pressured by the gender politics of picking the men's room or the women's room. Despite modern attitudes about the sharing of parental duties, men's rooms still frequently lack changing tables, so what about a bathroom equipped for everyone's needs, regardless of gender, age, or physical ability?

The inquisitive minds at RadioLab... got to the bottom of New York City sewage treatment. We're talking 1.3 billion gallons (or seven billion pounds) of daily material that must be managed. Up until 1986, West Side sewage was simply dumped, untreated into the Hudson River. There were also boats that would cart out loads 103 miles into the ocean and throw it all overboard. Today, the treated sewage is destined for landfill, but per the report by Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich, there was also another interim solution spearheaded by NYC "sludge salesman" Mike Sharp:

"And this is how the New York City poop train began. A couple of days before Earth Day 1992, several thousand tons of New York City sludge left the Big Apple, headed for Lamar, Colorado. Sixteen hundred miles away..."

Colorado farmers were initially wary of using the stuff, a POV compounded by a local TV ad for salsa that took similar knocks at anything of NYC provenance. But listen to the RadioLab report and you will hear a horse story, a cow story and many more great details about this fascinating bit of bathroom history, which ended just last year.*

En 1968, los estudiantes franceses gritaban un nombre mientras la policía les hacía brechas de siete puntos en la cabeza: ¡Wilhelm Reich! ¡Wilhelm Reich! En pleno apogeo de las teorías políticas y filosóficas, entre espesas discusiones sobre si Mao, Bakunin o Sartre, la juventud parisina también levantaba el puño reivindicando el referente ideológico que les había dado la consigna sin lugar a dudas más clara, inequívoca y atractiva: los jóvenes, para ser libres, lo que tenían que hacer era follar.

Como en todas las revoluciones de la segunda mitad del siglo XX, la acción fue sucedida por la comercialización. Y en este caso, el primer avispado que echó mano de la obra del heterodoxo psicoanalista y sexólogo austrohúngaro fue un italiano, Riccardo Ghione, que ya en julio del 68 se puso a filmar en Grosseto La rivoluzione sessuale para estrenarla rápido, como mandan los cánones del marketing, en noviembre del mismo año.

La cinta recogía las principales ideas y trabajos de Reich «sin ánimo de ser didáctica», declaró a la prensa internacional su director. En la historia un profesor propone una serie de intercambios de pareja por sorteo entre un grupo de siete hombres y siete mujeres. Si se superan los tabúes, les explica, el sexo puede acabar con el malestar existencial del ser humano. A la excitación inicial le sigue la culpabilidad, conflictos sentimentales y finalmente la tragedia, un suicidio. Ni dos meses habían tardado en difundir la idea de que la revolución sexual de Wilhelm Reich no solo no era posible, sino que era mortalmente peligrosa hasta en un hotel a las afueras.

No obstante, el sexólogo nunca citó en su obra que las orgías o una amplia agenda de follamigos fueran los fundamentos de la salud sexual deseable. Más bien al contrario, la inclinación hacia comportamientos compulsivos formaban parte, precisamente, del desorden. A Reich no le pasaron desapercibidos los incontables ejemplos en todas las latitudes de burgueses que mandaban a la mujer a bañar al niño y se iban de putas más contentos que un San Luis. Eran, de hecho, la máxima expresión del patriarcado, un enemigo más represor que el capitalismo, advirtió.

Pero la confusión es recurrente. Han sido frecuentes los casos de pseudosectas y curanderos que haciendo apología de la obra de Reich entendida de aquella manera captaron a incautos, desequilibrados y solitarios, y para desplumarlos cobrando por sesiones de ‘bioenergía’ en las que terminaban sirviendo de carne de cañón para orgías en beneficio del supuesto terapeuta. El diario La Vanguardia denunció a las que operaban en Cataluña en el verano de 1987.

Volviendo atrás, mucho más respetuoso con el autor, pero no con el espectador, fue el cineasta yugoslavo Dusan Makavejev. Este belgradense era uno de los directores más destacados de la Ola Negra, el movimiento cinematográfico yugoslavo equivalente a la Nouvelle Vague francesa. El cine de Makavejev siempre había estado atento a los conflictos sexuales y las contradicciones que planteaban en el mundo anterior al 68. Sus películas hacían gala de un exquisito humor ácido y corrosivo, de modo que cuando abordó con estas premisas en su cuarta película el trabajo de Reich, que fue un crítico feroz con la configuración autoritaria en todos los órdenes de la vida que habían tomado los estados comunistas, pues tuvo que salir por piernas de Yugoslavia.

En su cinta Los misterios del organismo se desplazó hasta Estados Unidos para entrevistar a los vecinos de Reich cuando fue perseguido por la implacable Caza de brujas del senador McCarthy. El sexólogo alemán tuvo el preciado don de no agradar a nadie. Tuvo que huir a la carrera del nazismo, fue expulsado del Partido Comunista y en la tierra de la libertad le encarcelaron en la prisión de Lweisburg, Pennsylvania, hasta su  muerte en 1957.

Hay que señalar que por aquellas fechas estaba trabajando en su pintoresco Acumulador de Energía Orgónica, parecido a la Máquina del Orgasmo del Dormilón de Woody Allen, y en teorías de dudoso rigor científico. Cuentan las crónicas que el hecho de que el gobierno estadounidense incinerara todos sus manuscritos añadió valor e interés a su leyenda, pero la realidad, el hecho es que el mensaje de su obra más importante, La revolución sexual, escrita en 1936, aún podría estar vigente en muchos aspectos.

En lo referente a la masturbación, la verdad sea dicha, sería complicado. Haber, habrá padres hoy en día que culpabilicen a sus hijos por masturbarse, pero difícilmente tendrán el valor de admitirlo en público so pena de quedar como energúmenos antediluvianos. Reich, en su día, se quejó de la situación de una amplia mayoría de adolescentes que se veían obligados a combatir su inclinación natural a la masturbación «con mayor o menor fortuna». En algunos casos, se lamentaba, con prácticas nocivas como retener la eyaculación. Adentrarse en la madurez sexual consistía en una lucha desesperada contra la excitación, un forcejeo constante contra la propia sexualidad.

El asunto no haría más que empeorar con la unión «antisexual» del matrimonio. Una contradicción entre los intereses económicos y los sexuales. Una institución en la que se obtiene «rutina acomodaticia» a cambio de «miseria sexual, imposiciones y un tremendo vacío». Es decir, una vida sexual «ordenada desde el exterior».

La mujer, con una vida sexualmente vacía y sin independencia económica, daba sentido a su existencia entregándose al cuidado de los hijos. «Toda restricción que atentara contra estas relaciones, aunque fuese para bien de los hijos, ella la sentía como una grave privación y se defendía con tenacidad». A esto había quedado relegada.

La revolución soviética, en una primera etapa, quiso dinamitar esta clase de existencia lacerante para la mayoría de los individuos, pero fracasó y volvió al modelo arcaico de, en palabras de Reich, «moralizar en lugar de comprender y dominar los problemas». Digamos que los estudiantes rusos de los años 20 habían entendido la liberación sexual del modo orgiástico de la aludida película de Ghione. Era una fase necesaria de desorden antes del equilibrio deseado, dijo Reich, pero se volvió al modelo anterior malinterpretando declaraciones de Lenin sobre la libertad del amor de forma no muy distinta de la que hizo una célebre organización con los Evangelios.

En la URSS comenzó a difundirse el temor a viejos fantasmas, que la humanidad se extinguiría, que la familia debía ser protegida y que había que alentar la voluntad de tener niños. Pero Reich puntualizó que la sociedad que no pueda o no quiera tomar a su cargo a los niños no tenía derecho a exigir que las madres dieran a luz a unos hijos no deseados.

Efectivamente, la primera batalla que se libró es harto conocida hoy en día, fue volver a la penalización del aborto, que se había permitido inicialmente por el deseo de acabar con los curanderos. Sin embargo, Reich observó que donde había mujeres económicamente independientes, bajas por maternidad y guarderías, aumentaba la natalidad, pero los «funcionarios de cierta edad» moldeados en la vieja moral optaron por controlar la demografía por la vía represiva. Era también el miedo a perder una guerra por falta de soldaditos. Así explicaron algunos generalotes franceses la caída de su país a manos de los nazis.

Los comunistas continuaron y después llegó la persecución de los homosexuales. Para Reich era una opción sexual que, innata o adquirida, no perjudicaba a nadie. Pero se la calificó de incultura bárbara o perversión burguesa. En enero de 1934 se hicieron detenciones masivas de homosexuales en Moscú, Odesa, Leningrado y Jarkov. En marzo, una ley prohibió las relaciones entre hombres con penas de tres a ocho años de cárcel.

Máximo Gorki llegó a escribir que «mientras en los países fascistas la homosexualidad, ruina de la juventud, florece por doquier impunemente, en los países donde el proletariado ha tomado, con audacia, las riendas del poder, la homosexualidad ha sido declarada crimen social y es castigada con rigor. Ya suena en Alemania esta consigna: extirpad la homosexualidad y el fascismo habrá desaparecido».

En realidad, como él mismo ya había escrito en 1933 en La psicología de masas del fascismo, la represión sexual fue la cadena de transmisión de las ideas fascistas entre las clases populares, de ese deseo aparentemente contradictorio de ser dominados. Había un tipo de hombre que «como no ha aprendido a vivir naturalmente, declina toda responsabilidad de sus actos y decisiones, y reclama que le dirijan y le frenen».

¿Cómo promover pues la igualdad de los seres humanos? ¿Cómo podrían entender y aceptar los individuos propuestas para el bienestar general? La conclusión final de Reich era de naturaleza política: «las fuerzas irracionales del pensamiento colectivo no pueden ser dominadas con la sola argumentación lógica (…) Los argumentos racionales deben asentarse sobre el fundamento estable de sentimientos sanos y naturales». ¿No les parece actual?

The post ‘La revolución sexual’ de Wilhelm Reich appeared first on Yorokobu.

Let’s hope spreadsheets about sex doesn’t become a thing.

reddit.com

giphy.com

Underrated satire Drop Dead Gorgeous came and went in theaters 15 years ago, rejected by audiences and critics alike. Now that it’s a cult classic, the cast and crew tell BuzzFeed why the film is more popular than ever before.

John Gara / Buzzfeed

Loretta: What is wrong with you?
Amber: I don't know. I just didn't want to win like this.
Loretta: You stop right there. You are a good person. Good things happen to good people.
Amber: Really?
Loretta: No, it's pure bullshit, sweetie. You're lucky as hell, so you might as well enjoy it.

It's comforting to believe in a universe where good deeds are rewarded and bad behavior is punished, but karma is nothing more than an attractive fantasy. We do our best for the sake of doing our best, and sometimes our hard work pays off. But just as often, it doesn't. Idiots stumble into greatness. And good people — deserving people — never amount to anything.

In a perfect world, Amber Atkins (Kirsten Dunst) would be crowned Mount Rose American Teen Princess on the merits of her tap-dancing skills. Becky Leeman (Denise Richards), on the other hand, would be laughed out of the competition for her tone-deaf performance of "Can't Take My Eyes Off You."

In that same idealized world, Drop Dead Gorgeous, the movie that tells their story, would be considered an unmitigated cinematic triumph. But reality is a little more complicated than that.

Michael Patrick Jann's 1999 mockumentary follows Amber, Becky, and their fellow Mount Rose American Teen Princess contestants, a group of mismatched Minnesota high school girls vying for small-town glory. Urging Amber on is her foul-mouthed, beer-guzzling mother, Annette (Ellen Barkin), herself a former contestant, and Annette's best friend, the equally trashy Loretta (Allison Janney). On Becky's side: her dangerously enthusiastic mother Gladys (Kirstie Alley), who also happens to be head of the pageant committee. Tensions run high — and then the death toll starts mounting.

Upon its release, Drop Dead Gorgeous didn't amount to much. Despite a sharp, darkly comedic script by Lona Williams and memorable performances from Barkin, Alley, and Janney, among others, the movie failed to find an audience, earning a disappointing total gross of $10.5 million.

Some little-seen films at least earn critical acclaim, but Drop Dead Gorgeous wasn't so lucky. For the most part, critics were merciless: The film currently has a 28% rating on Metacritic, Entertainment Weekly's Lisa Schwarzbaum gave it a "D," and Janet Maslin of the New York Times wrote that Drop Dead Gorgeous "[makes] its audience wince through what may be a record number of miserably unfunny jokes."

But if Drop Dead Gorgeous were truly the disaster that contemporary critics made it out to be, it's unlikely anyone would still be talking about it 15 years later. (It was never a big enough production to join the ranks of infamous flops, such as Ishtar and Waterworld.) Instead, audiences over the past decade and a half have come to appreciate the unfairly maligned Drop Dead Gorgeous as a searingly funny satire. That is, if they can find it.

"In this age of total accessibility of everything, you can't Netflix this movie, and you can't download it off of iTunes," Jann, the film's director, told BuzzFeed. At the time of publication, a copy of the bare-bones DVD, now out of print, could be purchased on Amazon.com for $60. "This is the ultimate cult movie. You can't see it. I will loan someone my VHS copy for anyone that's interested."

The fact that the once-hated Drop Dead Gorgeous can now be called a cult classic complicates the narrative of failure. Now that it's shifted from box office bomb to misunderstood treasure, can the film be considered a belated success? However unconventional, a circuitous path toward victory isn't entirely unheard of. As anyone who has seen Drop Dead Gorgeous can tell you, losing the beauty queen crown isn't the end of the world.

Amber Atkins may have been a runner-up, but she got what she wanted in the end. And all it took was a freak explosion, a serious case of food poisoning, and a stray bullet to get her to the top. Success may not be based on merit, but it's arbitrary enough to sometimes work itself out eventually.

New Line Cinema/Justine Zwiebel for BuzzFeed

The story of Drop Dead Gorgeous didn't end with its box office failure in 1999 — at least not for those who continued to find the film in the years that followed. While Williams and Jann were putting the film behind them, teenagers who had missed its short theatrical run were discovering it at video rental stores and on cable.

At the dawn of the new millennium, the cult of Drop Dead Gorgeous was just beginning to rise.

"I think a lot of cult movies actually build their cults in people's homes, usually young people who kind of discover these things on cable or on DVD, and then obsessively watch them over and over again," said Joshua Grannell, a writer-director best known for his drag persona, Peaches Christ.

As Peaches, Grannell hosts San Francisco's "Midnight Mass," a recurring series in which he celebrates cult classics from the past several decades with screenings and accompanying drag shows. His email inbox is filled with suggestions for future films, and Drop Dead Gorgeous — which Grannell hasn't put on yet — is frequently on the list.

The rise of Drop Dead Gorgeous' cult fame is that it follows a more recent model, which is largely about self-discovery and sharing among friends.

"In the old days, a cult movie found its audience on the midnight movie circuit, like Pink Flamingos or Eraserhead," Grannell explained. "In the last 20, 30 years, with home video and cable television, a lot of these cults are built in people's living rooms… I think Drop Dead Gorgeous is the perfect example of that."

As the film slowly grew its fanbase, cast members began to receive more recognition for their roles. It came as a surprise to those who knew the film had underperformed, but they were thrilled by the attention, however belated, for a movie they loved making.

"Usually fans are pretty fanatical about that movie," Janney told BuzzFeed. She said she is approached about Drop Dead Gorgeous more often than almost any other project she's been a part of — even after winning four Emmys for her work on The West Wing. "My funniest moment about Drop Dead Gorgeous was being in an airport and sitting next to some kids who were going over their favorite Loretta lines … and I said, 'Um, hi, I played Loretta in the movie.' And they literally started screaming. It was really funny. I feel like a rock star being part of that movie."

Shannon Nelson, who played severely awkward pageant contestant Tess Weinhaus, is still approached by fans, even though she's gone from brunette to blonde and is far more put together than her character ever was. And Will Sasso, who gave it his all as Hank, the mentally challenged brother of pageant judge Harold (Michael McShane), admits to being flattered when people approach him about Drop Dead Gorgeous — even when they tell him they thought he was actually cognitively impaired after seeing his performance.

For Matt Malloy, being recognized is always a bit of a mixed blessing. He played pageant judge John Dough, whose interest in the girls he's judging crosses the line into inappropriate fixation when he follows them around with a video camera.

"Six times in my life I have been in a public setting — once in a mall, once in a bakery, each time with a lot of people around — and a teenage girl has turned and yelled, 'You're the pervert!'" he said. "And I put my hands up and say, 'In a movie. In a movie. Finish the sentence.' But there's this moment where the whole fucking place turns, and it's just like, Oh, you're hanging by your balls, kid. That still happens."

But as embarrassing as that kind of public shaming is, Malloy knows it means love for Drop Dead Gorgeous is still going strong.

View Entire List ›

A Asociación Puntogal deu a coñecer as 93 entidades sociais, empresas e administracións públicas que nuns días comezarán a usar o dominio .gal. entre elas estará Praza. Edita de Lorenzo, nomeada directora xeral de Puntogal, xestionadora do dominio galego na rede.

• Memoria de Cenizas

The star of Capcom’s 1991 fighting classic has just reached the big five-oh according to his date of birth in the game.

Remember in Street Fighter 2 when it listed all the characters' height, weight and age? Well, according to those stats Ryu has just turned 50.

Yes, that's right. When the game came out in 1991 – revolutionising the fighting genre in the process – Ryu was aged just 27 in the game. But that was 23 years ago.

Twitter: @David_Leavitt

Keep on dragon punching, Ryu.

ilusaodoamanha.tumblr.com

Fotografía: Hulton-Deutsch Collection / CORBIS.

La indeterminación produce la distinción, decía Baudelaire. Probablemente las palabras de l’enfant terrible francés fueran lo único que los señoritos eduardianos de la Inglaterra de los años cuarenta se tomaran en serio. Bellas palabras como bandera poética para una vida tan poco ejemplar.

Pero la primera vez que se usa el término enfant terrible no fue en Francia, sino en EE. UU. La primera persona que lo empleó fue el presidente de EE. UU. Thomas Jefferson, quien lo acuñó para describir al arquitecto (de origen francés, de ahí que esta expresión se diga en la lengua gala) Pierre Charles L’ Enfant, quien poseía belleza, talento, pero era testarudo y tenía un carácter incorregible. Estaba definiéndonos lo que años más tarde sería el carácter del genio indomable, brillante y rebelde: Rimbaud, Baudelaire, y Houellebecq mucho después… el germen de una larga lista de tipos complejos, pero también un estilo de vida, una rutina de principios indeterminados. Una norma de armario.

El origen poco analizado del dandi inglés, del figurín de estilo de la posmodernidad, comienza a finales de los años cuarenta cuando una sastrería de Londres —Saville Row Tailor— intenta revivir el estilo de vestir del hombre de la llamada «era eduardiana» (del reinado de Eduardo de principios del siglo xx). El estilo propuesto se lanzó como reacción al predominio de la imagen sobria y gris propia de la etapa de restricciones vivida en los años de la guerra y posguerra, una paradoja, porque el resultado sería aún más turbio. Fue una actitud contestataria de la alta clase inglesa ante las imposiciones restrictivas del Gobierno británico. Jóvenes ricos, estudiantes de Oxford o exoficiales del ejército comenzaron a vestirse con esmero, con conjuntos impecables de larga chaqueta, chaleco fantasioso y pantalones estrechos. En aquel momento, fue poco más que una rabieta de niños bien.

Llegaron los años cincuenta, la posguerra y el hollín. Y aunque la sociedad de consumo —ya en marcha en EE. UU. desde la década de los treinta-cuarenta— no entró a fondo en Inglaterra hasta principios de los años sesenta, la prosperidad comenzó a sentirse en la vida de la mayoría de las familias británicas. Por primera vez adolescentes de clase trabajadora podía permitirse tener buena ropa, una bicicleta o una motocicleta y dedicar el ocio a actividades de entretenimiento. Algo había cambiado. Jóvenes de familias de clase trabajadora, de los barrios del sur de Londres, que decidieron, en su tiempo libre, reunirse y comenzar a establecer maneras de actuar y de vestir diferentes al resto de los jóvenes y, por supuesto, de los adultos. Era algo insólito en la historia: se estaba macerando el primer movimiento cultural juvenil en el Reino Unido, que rápidamente saltaría a Estados Unidos y asentaría los bajos de la contracultura posterior. A esos chavales contestones y repelentes se les empezó a llamar «Teddy Boys» a partir de un titular del Daily Express, y no se les podía negar que estaban marcando un camino: exactamente lo mismo que hizo el rockabilly con el rock and roll.

«Nuestra vestimenta es la respuesta a un mundo sordo», decían. ¿Y qué hicieron aquellos jóvenes? Tomar el camino de en medio y bailar.

Una escena de Semilla de maldad. Imagen: MGM.

La ocasión la pintó la proyección en el sur de Londres de la película estadounidense Semilla de maldad (1955). El impacto social de la película fue tal que estos grupos de jovencitos bien vestidos ocasionaron disturbios, bailando sobre los asientos, rompiendo aquello que se encontraba a su alrededor. Los disturbios se reprodujeron en todos los sitios donde la película se proyectó, y los Teds formaron pandillas enfrentándose a otras bandas callejeras en un poco romántico Notting Hill. El movimiento estaba vivo y no había tiempo para abrillantar los zapatos. Los Teddy Boys eran esos tipos duros con traje de chaqueta, pero querían ser mucho más. Había muchas formas de ser un dandi, pero aquella era la definitiva: hacerlo por una causa. La rebeldía era la respuesta natural a las preguntas que no querían responder. Querían marcar un camino, tenían el lienzo dibujado, y solo necesitaban una vía de propagación. Entonces llegó el rockabilly, uno de los primeros subgéneros del rock and roll, rozando los años cincuenta, que también nacía a partir de tensiones raciales y sociales subyacentes. La conjunción de ambos terminó de perfilar lo que daría lugar a un estilo mucho más refinado

La indeterminación produce la distinción, decía Baudelaire, decíamos al principio. La modernidad entonces era poner rabiosamente de moda algo que por su origen estaba completamente fuera de contexto.

Teddy Boys, spin-off de la moda de Grease y Elvis Presley

El color negro habitual de la burguesía, símbolo de sobriedad y discreción sería acogido primero por los Teddy Boys en sus levitas y lazos en el cuello, después por los rockabillies y sus chaquetas de cuero, más adelante por el dandi y el chaqué.

Pero en el dandismo todo está dominado por la fantasía y esa libertad ya se dejó sentir en el armario de los Teddy Boys, cuando, tomando como base el estilo eduardiano, más formal, lo fusionan con elementos de la vestimenta de otros grupos juveniles anteriores o contemporáneos como los «Spiv», los «Cosh Boys», así como detalles del estilo del Oeste de Estados Unidos. Aunque la variedad era una premisa, había elementos comunes que lo unificaban, tales como largas chaquetas (en ocasiones con las solapas, puños y borde de bolsillos forrados de terciopelo), pantalones que cada vez se hicieron más estrechos y cortos, llegando a mostrar el calzado, camisas adornadas con corbatas, generalmente muy finas (o con lazo «Slim Jim» o corbata «Maverick» del Oeste americano), y la prenda más llamativa y variada: el chaleco.

Teddy Boys londinenses en 1954. Fotografía: Bettmann / CORBIS.

El calzado favorito eran los zapatos Oxfords muy pulidos o zapatos gruesos con suela ancha, conocidos como creepers. Tienen su origen en los años posteriores a la Segunda Guerra Mundial cuando los soldados de las bases norteafricanas llevaban botas de lona con suelas duras de goma para aguantar tanto el calor como las condiciones del suelo desértico y la protección ante las posibles minas. Una vez que abandonan el ejército, muchos de ellos marcan su condición de soldados valerosos, utilizando para las actividades nocturnas en la noche londinense de los barrios de Kings Cross y Soho este tipo de calzado convertido en zapato. Por este uso posterior se conocían como creepers de burdel.

Los peinados preferidos eran a base del cabello largo muy moldeado y engrasado, con un flequillo en la frente y el costado peinado hacia atrás en forma de «culo de pato» (duck’s ass) en la parte trasera, muy cercano a lo que Elvis utilizaría después.

Pero si hay algo que denote el calado de los Teddy Boys en la moda del dandismo inglés es su reflejo en las Teddy Girls: mujeres vestidas con prendas masculinas (chaquetas, pantalones de vestir) con un toque femenino en forma de sombreros o alpargatas de tela.

El movimiento tuvo muy mala repercusión mediática y la prensa sensacionalista se ensañó con las revueltas callejeras tachándolas de amenaza vandálica, sin embargo, a la larga se ha demostrado que fue el primer grupo cuyo estilo fue creado por sí mismo desde el barro de las calles y que ha perdurado en el tiempo en la figura del dandi. Un estilo indeterminado de mirada altiva y elegante distinción. Un guiño paradójico entre poeta maldito e higiene moderna.

Umha equipa da comissom de história começou a reparar e completar as sinalizaçons dos petróglifos da comarca. Aproveitaremos o verao para ir completando esta revissom. Anexamos fotos.

Tambem aproveitamos para colcocar pola zona os colantes com o código RQ que facilita a imprescindível web patrimoniogalego.net

Rory Patrick. Images via his Twitter account

On April 5, 2014, Rory Patrick announced to his Twitter followers that he was going to stop masturbating for 100 days. Soon, a hashtag was started: #Rory100. Friends and supporters cheered him on, sent him messages of encouragement as well as sheer amazement, and naturally some messages of confusion. As soon as I heard about this personal challenge I started thinking, Could I ever do this? Could I possibly go over three months without masturbating? Not even once? No. None of us can. It's horrifying. Terrible. What the hell was he thinking?

#rory100 pic.twitter.com/SftTq51ZnI

— rory (@rorynotroy) April 1, 2014

Interestingly enough, a growing number of men are choosing to do exactly what he did. They call themselves “Nofappers” and “Fapstonauts,” which really just sounds like people who jerk off in zero gravity. This community of mostly men takes not jerking off quite seriously. According to Nofap.org (yes, this is real), the reasons for refraining from personal gratification vary, but the ultimate result is supposedly a better you. Some want to wean themselves off of porn addictions, which in turn will give their computer much more hard-drive space. The movement also boasts that you'll have increased self-control, more time on your hands (now that your hands are free), and an overall improved attitude. 

“Many nofappers described increased happiness throughout their lives, especially in their attitudes towards sex and interpersonal relationships,” claims to Nofap's About page. The community has become strong enough to have its own terminology. Most of the terms sound like things a Redditor rambles in his sleep after a night of drinking one too many beers, like “Blue Petal,” the female equivalent of blue balls. This makes perfect sense however, since the organization was started because of a Reddit thread. A user posted a statistic on the “Today I Learned” subreddit, claiming that men who abstain from masturbating for 7 days increase their testosterone levels by more than 45%. From there, the idea of a “no masturbation challenge” came about. 


Rory Patrick, however, was unaware of the Nofap community when he started this. He took this mission on for himself, and rather than engage with the Fapstronauts, he tweeted frequently about his progress to his followers. On July 13, this masochistic endeavor at last came to an end. I could finally talk to him about it, and find out whether the benefits of not masturbating are real, without having to try for myself.

just the 2 sweetest []s carrying me to the end nbd RT @annabelle_nyst: @rorynotroy solidarity. we love you. #rory100 pic.twitter.com/INXa3nICJi

— rory (@rorynotroy) July 13, 2014

VICE: So obviously I have to know why. Why did you do this to yourself, and why 100 days? One hundred days, dude. Why? WHY?
Rory Patrick: I’d just noticed how jerking off had altered the trajectory of my day-to-day life. For instance, sometimes I’d planned to go to the gym or go on a run, and then I’d say to myself, “OK, you’re going to run, so let’s have a nice moment to yourself before that.” After masturbating, though, I’d find myself curled up in my bed watching television with a bag of chips instead of actually running. Coming was also my primary coping strategy for stress or pain, and that just didn’t seem healthy at all. So when a friend of mine was talking about a group of people that were going without for 90 days, I just competitively reacted, saying that I could do 100 days. I just hoped that the challenge would give me the impetus to be cum-free for a while. 

So you made the decision and then charted your 100 days with a hashtag on Twitter. What has support been like?
It has been heartwarming. The Twitter community can be so overwhelmingly positive and supportive. My friend Josh and I started taking pictures of ourselves doing that salute from The Hunger Games and people caught on and would take pictures of themselves doing the salute with the hashtag. It let me know people were thinking about me and kept me honest, because it seemed like people were having fun with it. I didn’t want to ruin it one night because I was stressed about work and needed to rub one out. You had some people that asked every week if I’d come yet and some others that would intermittently send me nudes to try and tempt me into succumbing to coming, but generally people were just behind me and hoping I lasted the 100 days.

How often did you masturbate before doing this?
Daily. On average, daily. As I said before, it ended up being necessary because I could tell that every time I was stressed, I’d feel this urgency to get back to my room and jack off or be intimate with someone. My sleep routine was also connected to coming. Coming before sleeping at some point became a habit. I probably should have a more diverse range of coping skills to deal with life’s curveballs than draining my own balls. 

When was it the hardest? Were there specific days you can recall where you came close to giving up? How did you resist temptation?
The first four days were hell, and it was apparent how much coming helped me get through life on a day-to-day basis. I just had a routine of coming before sleeping. My routine at first was still built around trying to come and go to sleep. When I started, I’d still watch a little porn and then go to sleep without touching myself. Sleeping was impossible. I was rolling around all night, trying to put together like 3 hours of rest at a time. I tried everything from sleeping pills to food-coma-ing myself, and I’d still struggle to get to sleep or stay asleep.

The one day the whole challenge was in danger was after some Twitter people had come in from out of town. We got very drunk, and sometimes after drinking heavily, I’ll get severe anxiety the next day. I remember it specifically being day 86, because I said to myself, “It’s OK, you did 86 days. Not many people could’ve done 86 days,” with my cock in my hands, ready to start jerking off. After a lot of breathing, though, my friend texted me back (I’d texted a bunch of people, but it was the middle of the night), and was supportive, and it gave me the boost I needed to just get up and take a shower and shake it off.

So this no jerk-off rule, did this also include no sex? 
No coming at all. So I couldn’t masturbate or have sex to completion. 

How did it affect your mood?
After those first four days, things were pretty great. I used coming time to run and exercise. I felt more eloquent. I work in suicide prevention and was aware that I was connecting with people better and was listening with greater concentration. I was writing a lot more than before and taking time to read. It’s upsetting to think that all those activities before were mostly me just feeling like, Hey, I’ve got 20 minutes free here, maybe I should see if there’s any good porn up, which there always is.

#rory100 finally pic.twitter.com/FkRcjrotOl

— rory (@rorynotroy) July 14, 2014

Once the 100th day came to a full completion, how long did it take for you to jerk off again? Did you do anything special to prepare for the big event?
The last day was great. It was the World Cup final, so I watched that with a friend. After he left, I worked out and cleaned up the house. I took the time to shave, trim, and clip my whole body to prepare myself for myself. I went on a bike ride to kill some time, and then, when the clock was nearing midnight, I met some of my friends for some drinks. My roommate and one of my closest confidants had promised to leave the house, so I could be as loud as I needed to be. I tweeted out some thanks, and when the the time came, I was naked and really enjoying myself once again. It only took a few minutes, and the finish was spectacular.

I remember shaking deeply in my core like I hadn’t felt before, and then I proceeded to finish all over my chest with a fury I haven’t felt since I was in middle school. The orgasm reverberated throughout the room for at least 20 minutes. I tweeted out a pic of me smiling and then logged off for a while. I haven’t been jacking off ceaselessly since day 100, but I also haven’t been a stranger to myself. It was a needed 100 days. I’m more aware of why I need to come now than I was before. That’s important. I missed it, though, and I’m glad it’s back. 

Now what are your masturbation plans? Back to old-school you, or are you switching things up?
It was a beautiful last couple of days before hand. Everyone online was shouting support out and not coming with me in celebration of the end of the journey. But I’m not going to just go crazy on myself. I’m treating it like a juice fast. I’m going to try and keep myself from myself and maintain the habits I’ve built up over the last 100 days. So if stress or anxiety hits, I don’t just jump under the covers or text someone to hang out. I’d like to greet those moments with something a bit healthier. My apartment has never been cleaner, and my body has been getting a bunch of use outside of my cock for the last 100 days, and my hope is that continues. 

So would you do this again, or what?
Yes, definitely. I will be doing it again, to be honest.

Follow Alison Stevenson on Twitter.