So Some People In PA Got An Email TODAY Saying That Their Vote Might Not Have Been Counted. If That's

i feel so bad for nikola tesla like imagine spending years beefing with a guy who has conned the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and you end up dying broke and starving and alone and then 100 years later another guy cons the public into believing he's some sort of supergenius when in reality it's his overworked employees developing all of his world-changing inventions and he's doing it all IN YOUR NAME. he must be rolling in his grave like a fucking rotisserie chicken

"here, life is beautiful." (Spoilers for Cabaret, on Broadway and the West End)

Leave your troubles outside! So - life is disappointing? Forget it! We have no troubles here! Here life is beautiful.

~ Emcee, Willkommen, from Cabaret

Let's unpack these lines, shall we?

leave your troubles outside!

Escapism; ignorance is bliss.

we have no troubles here!

So long as you are here, there are no problems to worry about!

So why not stay awhile? After all, what good is sitting alone in your room?

here, life is beautiful.

Life is beautiful here in our little cabaret.

Life outside the cabaret is ugly.

so why not stay awhile?

When those are all added together by the end of Cabaret, what do we get?

The Kit Kat Club is a place for people to engage in escapism. While you're in the Kit Kat Club, you have nothing to worry about, especially your worries outside. After all, in here, life is beautiful. Why bother worrying about the people who can't afford, can't find, or otherwise cannot access this beautiful little Club of ours? They aren't here, where life is beautiful, they are outside, where life must be ugly.

See where this leads?

It divides us just like the titular Kit-Kat; split in twain. There is no glory, no love of life in the line "life is beautiful" within Cabaret. It is the vessel by which we see one of many possible messages:

fascism is able to invade our lives by our proclivity for escapism.

and, simultaneously,

fascism can seduce us all into not noticing the damage that it does, by glorifying and beautifying itself.

To celebrate the show by reveling in the sexiness of it is to miss the point; you are using it as escapism. The London and now Broadway production literally showcases how everyone is slowly seduced by imagery: from the Emcee's swastika-inspired dance at the top of show, and his old war helmet in Money Money, to the very attractive and flashy dances we see performed by the beautiful Cabaret girls and boys (and "even the orchestra is beautiful!") This is the exact point. The sexiness and imagery is used to distract us from folks like Ernst Ludwig, who weaponize information and identity to divide and conquer. Neon.

I had to unfollow some old friends because they have seen this show twice and that was all they came away with. But any time I try to talk with them, they shove me off, like I'm taking things to seriously. I hope this is useful to someone. That is all. Yes, life is beautiful; but it is only as beautiful as we defend it. Life is beautiful in that it is lived, and lived deeply, by truly perceiving it.

"We live, I regret to say, in an age of surfaces."

~ Lady Bracknell, The Importance of Being Earnest

But how much longer can we live in such an age? And how much longer do you want to? Do we want to live only as far as we can touch and see at first touch, first glance?

golden potato of luck, shine upon me, that I might bring good news among all I see tomorrow.

My dream for the election is that it’s definitive. I want a 2012-style Election Day where everyone built it up beforehand to possibly be close but then the results start rolling in and it was like “Oh, nevermind. It’s obviously Obama. Everyone go to bed.”

I just want voters to put a stake right through the heart of Trumpism so that it crumbles to ash before our eyes. That’s the dream.

@ gaurav

i need everyone to know that community is what will save us all in every single way imaginable. you forming a bond with your neighbour or coworker might help them move house or feel less alone or have the courage to leave an unhealthy living environment. you helping a stranger might provide them with hope. in turn, being able to lean on your community in times of need will save you. your broader bonds with your community are the revolution we need. our society seeks to divide and separate us in so many ways but we are all so much more united in our struggles and joys than you are made to believe. we need to hold onto each other very tightly.

nothing could prepare you for the opening of the second paragraph (source)

ngl I thought the puzzle piece as an autistic symbol meant like. I am a vital puzzle piece to your society. humans would never have invented half the things they did without us. you're telling me it means I'm missing something?? buddy. listen. listen to me reeeeaal closely. no human has all the pieces to humanity. no one. no one has all the features enables no one has all the strengths weaknesses or quirks. no one has a whole puzzle. we make the freaking complete picture together. that's the freaking point.

I know that—objectively—this is bullshit, but I have chosen to believe that the reason the US hasn't formally changed to the metric system is for the poets. When the going gets tough you can still claw your way forward inch by inch, but centimeter by centimeter just doesn't quite carry you. You're in love/excited/nervous/scared and your heart is beating a hundred miles per hour, whoa that sounds fast and dangerous! But a hundred kph? I've been passed by people going faster than that coming out of downtown on capital boulevard. The pound of flesh they take from you is raw and bloody and full of pain, the kilogram of flesh is impersonal and excised in laboratory conditions under strict observation. Liters are okay tho, if only because they sound like meter and a meter is used to measure things, so the measure of a man can be siphoned (as a byproduct of the kilogram) into a bottle with a screw cap lid and stored in a dark cool room until he is found wanting. A gallon would be wasteful, a quart too unserious, and a cup not enough to keep him from withering in the desert sands under 100 degree faeghreignheit sun. ...Okay maybe celsius gets a pass too.