Who cares about the vulnerable when there’s a fight to manufacture?

Originally posted on a gentleman and a scholar:

Evidently not BBC’s Woman’s Hour.

Trans (and potentially trans) children – already a hot button topic – have been pushed further into the spotlight this week with Louis Theroux’s latest, broadly supportive, documentary, aired by the BBC on April 5th. Other arms of the BBC were quick to weigh in, as were the rest of the mainstream press – it made sense that Woman’s Hour, the BBC’s flagship magazine radio show for feminist/gender-related content, would want to add to the discussion.

What I didn’t realise, until they contacted me this Thursday, was that it wasn’t so much a case of ‘adding to the discussion’ as it was promoting their own agenda under the guise of ‘debate’.

Before I say anything else, I should probably touch on my background. I’ve been a trans (and general QUILTBAG) activist since I myself came out at the age of 15…

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A.K.A Hoi Palloi

A.K.A Hoi palloi, in the end, Plebicians and phonecians, take to eloquently describing my past and how I feel, Proliteriat automaton self aware but unable to solicit help, the mind must melt, kismet with the downtrodden believing oneself an elf, ludicrous, duplicitous and too spurious
Illiterally literate, in cujoled state unable to offer liberation for the fog of the blind, the malcontent must find the axe to cut down the forest to see the trees, and write themselves leaves upon the pages of may as well be blank books, winked and hooked carepegnicious incendrinations of the mind of a kind, insipidly making off with your lives daring and brave, in the forest of Sherwood rather than in the Bat cave.

Instamatic cameras taking pictures of the world, seeing all except that they hide, blind, unkind and hurtful, disrespectful, but then surprised at disruptful

We’re all en monde, but personally I’m forced to use doublre entend
as a wand, marking out escarpments of your minds, and placing quarries of thought I hope you’ll find.
Infantasine.

Review of Faerground Accidents – She Makes Me Want To Die Single on Louder Than War Records

Originally posted on Andrulian's blog:

Faerground Accidents on twitter
Louder Than War website
BlueSoapMusic on twitter

I absolutely love this song! I really like the vibe, it’s an infectious song with great drive and energy. Faerground Accidents have a brilliant sound and style, I really like the way the lyrics are bit off the wall, it’s more like a conversation you’d have with a mate when they’re telling you about the really bad time they’re having which gives it a really bittersweet quality.

The song opens with intense drumming quickly joined by great riffing and synth lead. The riffing is high tempo and maintained throughout the song with some great jangly parts and a cracking solo too.

She Makes Me Want To Die is out now on Louder Than War records. On the basis of this single, Faerground Accidents are definitely a band to watch this year!

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Space Race

The russian’s first got into space, the famous name’s Gagarin

The U.S swiftly followed with Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin

Konstantin Tslovsky paved the way for rocket science

theorising multi stage liquid fired proppelants

the voyager probe goes, now flying through deep space

clever mathematics enabled scientists to trace

a path for voyager to follow, saturn, Jupiter so sallow

Uranus and Neptune, voyager’s viewing each planets moons

#DressesForMen

How do you address gender inequality?
#DressesForMen
When I hit 40 I saw
You extort me
As I grow up I’m being told, I like roaring dinosaurs, but I don’t (lo and behold)
you tell me I’m rough and tumble
I came home with bruises from where I’d been beaten
You tut to the woman next door “Boys, they like fightin’
Your story of me, it’s really frightenin’

you tell me I like strip clubs, drinking that type of thing
All my life I just hid “your instructions for me being me” was too frightening
I drank to hide my distress
As I surreptitiosly eyed this dress
Address dresses for men
Don’t create just messes of men

Superstar of the apocalypse

You made your mark, well you hit your fix

you shared your pics, well they’re tasteful not sick
on the cover of your magazine, you’re the beauty queen
for those you burn and the kudos you earn
when will Britiain ever learn
praise at her feet well she’s the bitch
you call this freedom well that’s sodding rich
you sell to me, the opportunity
for me to be
whatever you feel I should be
I got no wants and I ain’t got no yearns
you sapped my will when I was eager to learn
now who is wrong, well that’s hard for me to discern
unadultarated deflating me you cow
take not I’m on the prowl
so you’re the superstar? should I kowtow
Superstar of the apocalypse is what you are

Running Man

For you I believe
Running on a treadmill for your life
For you I believe
You’re the running man
Running as fast as you can
Running man
Running fast with life
Handalin’ the dice
Cursing out the doofus
Militant huroudrous
Your the running man
Running just as fast as you can
Running man
Robb John Robb
Running man
Robb John Robb
Running man
Running fast with life
Handalin’ the dice
Cursing out the doofus
Militant huroudrous
Running…
Just…
Running just as fast…
As you can