Crystals are all the rage right now. People are lauding their mystical healing powers, imbued from sacred vibrations in sync with the Sacred Earth Mother homeopathic chakra feng shui. Or something. You can understand why, when a hunk of quartz is $7.25 at your local Crystal Emporium and Mud Spa whereas actual medical treatment in the United States is $1850 just for them to print and send you the bill. It’s easy to see the appeal of eating a fistful of quinoa, taping a garnet to your forehead and hoping for the best.
That is not to say that the healing powers of crystals are devoid of merit. I’ve done some research, and while I’ve found countless sources telling you WHAT each kind of crystal or stone is good for, there’s very little documentation on HOW to use them to best effect. It’s hard to find a reliable druid in this day and age.
Once again, Sneer Campaign is here to help. I have tirelessly scoured the internet, head shops, rock shows, Burning Man-type peyote appropriations, and exactly one florist. Presented here is the Sneer Campaign Guide to Optimal Crystal Implementation.
There is no love quite like the love of a pet. They’re always there for us, when we’re sick, sad, or lonely. They’ll play with us and keep us company. They are therapists and confidants, best friends and playmates. Unconditional love for a small adoption fee.
When I was about seventeen, my neighbors adopted a kitten for their daughter and named him Samson. Children can be fickle creatures, and it turned out that their daughter wasn’t hugely interested in having a cat, so Samson was pretty much left to his own devices.
He was a longhair, mostly blue-gray, but with a white patch on his chin down to his tummy, and on the tips of his paws. He had beautiful, piercing green eyes.
Marketing has always had a pronounced gender divide. Look at an ad for, say, laundry detergent; You never see Dad sorting the whites and colors, it’s always Mom doing the chores while Dad sits on the couch trying to lick the last of the cheese dip from the bottom of the jar. To market to men, all you need is a mixture of diamondplate, sports, and aggression. Marketing both builds and reinforces gender stereotypes. Live up to the standard of masculinity or lose your “man card.” Masculinity is very fragile, and can go away at any moment if you can’t name at least three starting quarterbacks for the NFL. It’s stupid, demeaning, ugly, and it’s time I cashed in.
Fidget spinners are all the rage right now. Originally invented as an aid for children and adults with conditions like anxiety and ADHD, it’s now caught on in the mainstream, so now it’s dismissed as a toy so the people who need them look foolish for taking advantage of them. Once again, it’s time to cash in. Every product, from hygiene to TV dinners, has a version “FOR MEN,” and it’s time fidget spinners caught up. This fad has a shelf life, after all. So now, in the interests of cashing in on fads and upholding the masculine standard, Sneer Campaign presents FIDGET TOYS FOR MEN.
You’ve seen him. You’ve heard him bray about his “donkey sauce.” He is festooned with odd colors and odder compulsions. He is Donald Trump, 45th President of the United States.
No! Trump is merely orange. I speak of Food Network darling Guy Fieri, guilty of abetting more crimes against calories than every Subway restaurant put together.
When I was a young lad, I was afraid of one of my uncles. I was never around him, seldom saw him, but I knew he was a monster. I knew from how the other adults spoke of him. Not of his misdeeds, of which there were many, but the word they used for him, in hushed tones. “Manic-Depressive.”
Mental illness runs in my family.
Both of my parents have been in mental hospitals. An aunt on each side has unspecified “problems.” My brother has crippling anxiety. Suicides crop up here and there. Always whispered about. Always hidden. Always stigma.
I have bipolar disorder. Approximately 2-7 percent of the US population over 18 does. They have to estimate because so many people hide it, try to drink it away, or are lost to suicide. More are men than women, because thanks to stigma, those who seek help are seen as weak. Bipolar disorder is diagnosed in 5.7 million Americans. Roughly half of us will attempt suicide at least once. Of those who do, a third will ultimately succeed. Almost a million Americans alone. Mental illness is real, and it is lethal.
You can feel it in the air, can’t you? The tension. The nervousness. The sheer pinkness of it, reaching for you. Yes, another Valentine’s day has come for us poor wretches.
VD is a complete train wreck of a holiday. It seeks to make us insecure about ourselves, our significant others, and the validity of our own emotions. This is, in part, because love is a nebulous and confusing thing. Everyone wants it, but few people ever really get it, because no one has any idea what they’re looking for. What do you think of when you think of “love?” Several images probably flashed through your mind; many of them no doubt scenes from romantic movies. And if any of those scenes involved Meg Ryan, just go kill yourself now and spare yourself some bitter disappointment.
There are some who say that gift-giving is a dying art. There was a time once when gift selection was a thoughtful process of deciding upon a gift that reflects both the giver and its recipient, when the giver sought something that the recipient would want but would be unlikely to buy himself.
There was also a time when we lived in caves and drew stick figures on the walls.
Yes, now we live in what historians will one day call Modern Times, what with the cable TV and the “World Wide Internet” and the spray cheese and the downsizing and the Taco Bell and the one hit wonder and the female impersonators and the Lincoln Town Cars and the Wal-Marts and the African skin cults and the Bimini Road and the wild packs of Mole People from Far Ends of Time now roaming the earth. We don’t have time to give that much thought to others; we have a hair appointment at four o’clock!
The thing about Major Medical Issues is that they don’t always set in suddenly with a dramatic collapse or an important body part waving a sign that says “I AM BROKEN.” Often it starts small, subtle, slowly escalating below your radar until horrified loved ones take you to the ER and you realize that you’re the proverbial frog in the boiling water.
It is time for more of our Anime Review. Today, we look at more of Girls Und Panzer, an anime from 2012, which Wikipedia describes as a depiction of tank warfare between girl’s high schools. You can find part 1 of this review here and part 2 here.
I give Japan the benefit of the doubt when I assume the content creators there think of this stuff without the aid of highly illegal substances. I would assume that if all the mangaka were popping goofballs all day they’d eventually crank something out that wasn’t centered upon Japanese schoolgirls. After I finish with Girls und Panzer, I’ll move on to Strike Witches, in which schoolgirls from World War 2 take off their pants and fight aliens with little propellers on their legs. Google it if you don’t believe me.
So the action in episode 4 starts with an exhibition match against the British team. How do we know they’re British? Because they’re always drinking tea, of course.
Being an Evil Overlord seems to be a good career choice. It pays well, there are all sorts of perks and you can set your own hours. However, every Evil Overlord I’ve read about in books or seen in movies invariably gets overthrown and destroyed in the end. I’ve noticed that no matter whether they are barbarian lords, deranged wizards, mad scientists or alien invaders, they always seem to make the same basic mistakes every single time. With that in mind, allow me to present…