Petrichor

a blog about life and language; a smattering of seriousness and silliness with a smidge of science! and star wars; something about stones and gods; and godawful alliteration

6,122 notes &

anticapitalist: Our real first gay president The new issue of Newsweek features a cover photo of President Obama topped by a rainbow-colored halo and captioned “The First Gay President.” The halo and caption strike me as cheap sensationalism. I realize airport travelers look at a magazine for 2.2 seconds before moving on to the next one. I grant that this cover will probably get Newsweek a 4.4 second glance. I also understand that Newsweek is desperate for sales. Nevertheless, I doubt that the Newsweek of old, before it was sold for a dollar, would have pandered as shallowly. The caption is a superficial way to characterize an important development of thought that the president — along with the country — has been making over recent years. It is also entirely wrong. Like the mini-furor a couple of months back about the claim that Richard Nixon was our first gay president, the story simply ignores that the U.S. already had a gay president more than a century ago. There can be no doubt that James Buchanan was gay, before, during and after his four years in the White House. Moreover, the nation knew it, too — he was not far into the closet. Today, I know no historian who has studied the matter and thinks Buchanan was heterosexual. Fifteen years ago, historian John Howard, author of “Men Like That,” a pioneering study of queer culture in Mississippi, shared with me the key documents, including Buchanan’s May 13, 1844, letter to a Mrs. Roosevelt. Describing his deteriorating social life after his great love, William Rufus King, senator from Alabama, had moved to Paris to become our ambassador to France, Buchanan wrote: I am now “solitary and alone,” having no companion in the house with me. I have gone a wooing to several gentlemen, but have not succeeded with any one of them. I feel that it is not good for man to be alone; and should not be astonished to find myself married to some old maid who can nurse me when I am sick, provide good dinners for me when I am well, and not expect from me any very ardent or romantic affection.

anticapitalist:

Our real first gay president

The new issue of Newsweek features a cover photo of President Obama topped by a rainbow-colored halo and captioned “The First Gay President.” The halo and caption strike me as cheap sensationalism. I realize airport travelers look at a magazine for 2.2 seconds before moving on to the next one. I grant that this cover will probably get Newsweek a 4.4 second glance. I also understand that Newsweek is desperate for sales. Nevertheless, I doubt that the Newsweek of old, before it was sold for a dollar, would have pandered as shallowly.

The caption is a superficial way to characterize an important development of thought that the president — along with the country — has been making over recent years. It is also entirely wrong. Like the mini-furor a couple of months back about the claim that Richard Nixon was our first gay president, the story simply ignores that the U.S. already had a gay president more than a century ago.

There can be no doubt that James Buchanan was gay, before, during and after his four years in the White House. Moreover, the nation knew it, too — he was not far into the closet.

Today, I know no historian who has studied the matter and thinks Buchanan was heterosexual. Fifteen years ago, historian John Howard, author of “Men Like That,” a pioneering study of queer culture in Mississippi, shared with me the key documents, including Buchanan’s May 13, 1844, letter to a Mrs. Roosevelt. Describing his deteriorating social life after his great love, William Rufus King, senator from Alabama, had moved to Paris to become our ambassador to France, Buchanan wrote:

I am now “solitary and alone,” having no companion in the house with me. I have gone a wooing to several gentlemen, but have not succeeded with any one of them. I feel that it is not good for man to be alone; and should not be astonished to find myself married to some old maid who can nurse me when I am sick, provide good dinners for me when I am well, and not expect from me any very ardent or romantic affection.

(via brooklynmutt)

Filed under history

19,086 notes &

octopodesinlove:

endquestionmark:

geenasaur:

victoriansilurianlesbianthespian:

marmosette:

evawrites:

macpye:

ibelieveinmycroft:

marmosette:

umadson:

marmosette:

wastingyourgum:

marmosette:

BUT ARE THEY GAY SKELETONS??? BECAUSE I CAN’T BE HAVING THAT KIND OF FILTH ON MY BLOG!

Who cares? Look how happy they are!

It’s just that I have never seen such enormous boners. They’re so hard for each other.

Uhm, excuse me, but is that a washing machine in the kitchen in the second pic? What even?!

In London at least, if not most of England, if not Europe… they put clothes washers in the kitchen. And then blink at you and say, “Well, where else would you put it? The bathroom?”  I know. I know. Believe me.

As and English person I can attest to this. My washing machine is in my kitchen. Everyone I know, all over the UK and expats in Europe, keeps their washing machine in their kitchen. Where do you dear Americans keep yours? I am utterly confused - it seems a perfectly logical place to keep a washing machine!

I had the option to put mine either in my kitchen or my bathroom. Because it was handier for the space, I opted for the bathroom.

We have a laundry room in this house—teeny room with washer/dryer hook-up, and storage space.  At my mom’s house they’re in the basement.  

Yep, laundry room. I have seen laundry closets in apartments, which is still better than in the kitchen. It may be handy plumbing-wise, but in the meantime, you have dirty underwear, gym clothes, etc. all in your kitchen, or in a hamper in the bedroom. Sheets and towels and stuff around food just…. yergh. It is completely dependent on what you grew up with and what you’re used to.

I love that you are having a conversation about the best whereabouts of washing machines on a picture set of randy skeletons.

We don’t have a laundry room, but we have two freaking bathrooms and a W.C. The washing machine is in one of the two bathrooms.

It’s logical to have a washing machine in the bathroom, since you bathe in the bathroom and not in the kitchen. 

what the fuck did i just read

I live in New York = no room for a washing machine.

Why do I find this conversation more interesting than the photos.

Filed under sex science! anatomy culture

13,145 notes &

mokou: agent-355: nolivingman: piratesswoop: thedistortedone: relativemorals: YES. I’m tired of all of you pretentious assholes saying that I’m not “really reading” because I use a kindle. Yes, you are reading.You are just reading a “lesser” form of book. Reading isn’t just reading the words on a page/screen, it’s smelling the book, new or old, it’s wearing the books spine out after rereading it for the X’th time, it’s leaving crease marks on a page you flipped too fast because you were that eager to get to the next page, and most of all, it’s losing yourself in a book to the point where the world around you no longer exists. And I, for one, cannot lose myself in an electronic screen. The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic. So you may be reading a book, but you will never truly experience a book unless you read it in a printed medium. lol this pretentious bullshit. “The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic.” i mean really. anyway, the words of your reblog have no depth or meaning to me since i’m reading them in electronic form, but u tried it LMAO I CAN’T go sniff a book and get the fuck off tumblr bc ur electronic words mean nothing 2 me BUT GUYS IT’S NOT A REAL BOOK B/C YOU CAN’T SMELL IT YOU CAN’T RUN YOUR TONGUE UP ITS SPINE YOU CAN’T WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS IN WHAT YOU PERCEIVE TO BE ITS EAR do you not realise how creepy you sound you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy

mokou:

agent-355:

nolivingman:

piratesswoop:

thedistortedone:

relativemorals:

YES. I’m tired of all of you pretentious assholes saying that I’m not “really reading” because I use a kindle.

Yes, you are reading.You are just reading a “lesser” form of book. Reading isn’t just reading the words on a page/screen, it’s smelling the book, new or old, it’s wearing the books spine out after rereading it for the X’th time, it’s leaving crease marks on a page you flipped too fast because you were that eager to get to the next page, and most of all, it’s losing yourself in a book to the point where the world around you no longer exists. And I, for one, cannot lose myself in an electronic screen. The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic. So you may be reading a book, but you will never truly experience a book unless you read it in a printed medium.

lol this pretentious bullshit. “The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic.” i mean really. anyway, the words of your reblog have no depth or meaning to me since i’m reading them in electronic form, but u tried it

LMAO I CAN’T

go sniff a book and get the fuck off tumblr bc ur electronic words mean nothing 2 me

BUT GUYS IT’S NOT A REAL BOOK B/C YOU CAN’T SMELL IT

YOU CAN’T RUN YOUR TONGUE UP ITS SPINE

YOU CAN’T WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS IN WHAT YOU PERCEIVE TO BE ITS EAR

do you not realise how creepy you sound

you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy

you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy

(via octopodesinlove)

Filed under ebooks books technology pwn'd