fuckin MOOD

I love the contrast between the lyrics and the melody this is art

pfffffffft nooooo I didn’t just learn this song on ukulele… at midnight…

Lyrics: 

I’ve tried, tried, tried
And I’ve tried even more 
I’ve Cried, Cried, Cried
And I can’t recall what for
I’ve pressed, I’ve pushed, I’ve yelled, I’ve begged
In hope of some success
 But the inevitable fact is that
It never will impress 

I’ve no more fucks to give,  
My fucks have runneth dry, 
I’ve tried to go fuck shopping 
But there’s no fucks left to buy
 I’ve no more fucks to give, 
Though more fucks I’ve tried to get, 
I’m over my fuck budget and
I’m now in fucking debt 

I strive, strive, strive 
To get everything done 
I’ve played by all the rules
But I’ve very rarely won,
I’ve smiled, I’ve charmed, I’ve wooed I’ve laughed,
Alas to no avail
I’ve run round like a moron,
To unequivocally fail!

I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fuck fuse has just blown,
I’ve been hunting for my fucks all day,
But they’ve upped and fucked off home,
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fuck rations are depleted,
I’ve rallied my fuck army but It’s been fucking defeated! 

The effort has just not been worth
The time or the expense
I’ve exhausted all my energy 
For minimal recompense
The complete lack of acknowledgement 
Has now begun to gall
And I’ve come to realise that I 
Don’t give a fuck at all!

I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have flown away,
My fucks are now so fucked off
They’ve refused to fucking stay!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have gone insane
They’ve come back round and passed me
While they’re fucking off again!

I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all dissolved,
I’ve planned many projects
But my fucks won’t be involved!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all been spent,
They’ve fucked off from the building
And I don’t know where they went! 

I’ve no more fucks to give, 
I’ve no more fucks to give, 
I’ve no more fucks, 
I’ve no more fucks, 
I’ve no more fucks to give!

Good news folks it’s on Spotify!!!

im going to be reblogging this every few hours to make sure every single one of my followers gets to see this epic post

give this man a fucking award

This song should play every time I enter the room

I dont know what emotion this gives me but im feeling it violently

sometimes i forget that bart is canonically a telepath

The emphasis Homer put on “*my* thoughts” implies that he heard Skinner as well, and that telepathy is passed down the patriarchal Simpson line

It’s a matter of time before companies start their own Pod-communities and ‘strongly encourage’ workers to live there and set up rules like no alcohol and no defamation of the company in the Pods. 

As nightmarish as this is (and it is), this is only new for documented white people. From seasonal archiculture workers to construction workers to sweatshops, ‘sleep where you work and live your whole life controlled by your boss and coworkers pressured to spy on you’, has been very much a thing for a looooooooong time. 

This is one of many things capitalism has always done to workers and now they’re going “hhmmmm.. if I can do this to some workers, why not all of them? if I present it as a hip new way of urban living people for the ‘freelancers’ that I exploit, I might even be able to do it without the armed guards that run my sweatshops and plantations.”

I don’t really get the issue with the “sex is banned” part tho

I don’t want to hyperfocus on that part because ‘live without privacy, convert your bed into a desk by day and just work work work’ is distopian enough as it is and I don’t really want to distract from a conversation about the new fuedalism to just talk about sex. 

But can you not understand how that monotomous soulless life defined by work becomes even more soulless when you are not permitted to engage in (what is for most allosexuals) one of the most intimate moments of recreational joy and interpersonal connection? & how much it says about our lack of power when we live in places that control our sexual and reproductive lives? 

well yeah, but it’s communal living. I mean you’re spot on with the rest but idk, a ban on sex when you share your living quarters with like two dozen other people? it doesn’t seem that deep tbh. 

You know, I’ve spend time in socialist and anarchist self-organized communal living spaces where lots of people shared bedrooms because they liked it and all these spaces had a place for sex. They all acknowledged that that was a thing many humans loved and valued and so they organized to make that good thing possible. Some had a spare room with a lock on the inside that couples could use, others had dorms where sex was okay and dorms where it was not so people could choose where to sleep. It is not difficult to have communal living for those that like sharing bedrooms and also organize a place for sex. 

This, however, is not communal living. This is crammed, dehumanized corporate living. This is squeezing as many people as possible into a space defined by work. The inhabitants own nothing in this space and have no control over their environment, they can’t even paint the walls let along organize the space to meet their needs. In such a space, sex is made impossible on purpose:

“We built the pods facing each other so the community polices itself”

The people that made this could have organized privacy and opportunities for sex. They deliberately did not do this, they dilerabetely designed the space for minimum privacy. The purposeful banning of sex from this space is just one part, but one very obvious part, of the way these spaces are not build for humans, they are build for employees whose whole identity should be limited to their productivity. 

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, mining communities and factory towns encouraged workers to join their ranks by offering company housing and company stores, where workers and their families wouldn’t have to worry about money, because their rent and whatever they wanted from the store would simply be deducted from their paychecks.

Didn’t take long for workers to realize they were spending over 100% of their paychecks, and would have to work the rest of their lives in soul-crushing poverty to pay the company back.

Slavery isn’t gone, it just changed its name.

Adding to what @robstmartin has to say:

“I sold my soul to the company store” isn’t just a line in a song, it’s about Miner’s Scrip. When coal mines forced their employees to live in company housing, paid them in company credit usable only in the literal company store, and they charged astronomical rates for rent and food. 

Most miners ended up in multi-generational debt because their wages were so low they could not afford the basic necessities of food, clothing and shelter and ended up owing so much to the company store their grandchildren would essentially be enslaved to the company to pay off the debt.

This becomes especially chilling when you realize Cheeto Supremo ran on a policy of “bring back coal jobs”.

This is just deadass feudalism 2 Electric Boogaloo

Waiting for Google and Facebook to implement this crap.

I’m not quite sure how but this reminds me very strongly of the way I’ve been given the side-eye in certain liberal spaces for wanting the ~traditional~ ‘house that I own with a yard and a car and no roommates’. For soooo many reasons–oh, it’s heteronormative to only live with a partner, it’s classist to own land, cars kill the environment…

Like???? I’m sorry I value my privacy? I’m sorry I don’t want to live at the mercy of a landlord who can raise the rent or evict me for being queer, or having a support animal, or letting folks crash indefinitely when they’re hard up? I’m sorry I want to be able to go outside and see weeds/flowers growing? I’m sorry I want to be able to guarantee I don’t lose my job due to a lack of public transport, not to mention be the friend-with-car for a dozen and a half people?

Living in crowded conditions is awful. Living where you work is awful.

I’m in school, and I was constantly questioned for choosing to live in an apartment rather than my college dorms, by everyone I knew, including folks who knew that living on-campus left me functionally homeless every summer when the dorms closed, and I’m still shamed for it whenever I complain about rent or utilities–“well you wouldn’t have to pay that on campus”

like yeah, liberal-Karen, I know. It’s almost like capitalism would like me to be a numbered sardine in a can that has no interaction with anything outside of a two mile radius of my job.

It is not a magic pill, it is called “Therapy” and you can even do it in groups!

i… literally mention my therapist… right there… in the original post…

did you not actually read this… do you honestly believe telling someone who has already admitted to being in therapy… to go to therapy… is a “gotcha” moment???

Okay, so there’s a relevant quote from Slatestar Codex here. (The link is to the source; attribution is a Thing.)

Basically, this one obsessive compulsive woman would drive to work every morning and worry she had left the hair dryer on and it was going to burn down her house. So she’d drive back home to check that the hair dryer was off, then drive back to work, then worry that maybe she hadn’t really checked well enough, then drive back, and so on ten or twenty times a day.

It’s a pretty typical case of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but it was really interfering with her life. She worked some high-powered job – I think a lawyer – and she was constantly late to everything because of this driving back and forth, to the point where her career was in a downspin and she thought she would have to quit and go on disability. She wasn’t able to go out with friends, she wasn’t even able to go to restaurants because she would keep fretting she left the hair dryer on at home and have to rush back. She’d seen countless psychiatrists, psychologists, and counselors, she’d done all sorts of therapy, she’d taken every medication in the book, and none of them had helped.

So she came to my hospital and was seen by a colleague of mine, who told her “Hey, have you thought about just bringing the hair dryer with you?”

And it worked.

She would be driving to work in the morning, and she’d start worrying she’d left the hair dryer on and it was going to burn down her house, and so she’d look at the seat next to her, and there would be the hair dryer, right there. And she only had the one hair dryer, which was now accounted for. So she would let out a sigh of relief and keep driving to work.

And approximately half the psychiatrists at my hospital thought this was absolutely scandalous, and This Is Not How One Treats Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and what if it got out to the broader psychiatric community that instead of giving all of these high-tech medications and sophisticated therapies we were just telling people to put their hair dryers on the front seat of their car?

I, on the other hand, thought it was the best fricking story I had ever heard and the guy deserved a medal. Here’s someone who was totally untreatable by the normal methods, with a debilitating condition, and a drop-dead simple intervention that nobody else had thought of gave her her life back.

It is not a therapist’s job to make you normal. It is a therapist’s job to give you your life back, on whatever terms are acceptable to you. And if your therapist can’t do that, you need to find a new therapist.

For some people, having headmates and/or alters is a debilitating condition. They’re losing large amounts of time, having trouble going to work and/or school, or hurting themselves or other people. In that case, they probably do need help, but I think most people who are getting fucked up by their headmates that badly are willing to seek out help on their own anyway.

Other people who have headmates and/or alters find it to be a neutral thing, or even a positive thing. 

Have you ever been in a roommate situation where different people do different chores, because, (say) Kate loves to do the dishes, but can’t stand to vaccuum, and Toby’s the exact opposite? If Kate and Toby are headmates, they can wind up doing the same kind of thing. Headmates can also comfort you when you’re sad, remind you that your depressive or intrusive thoughts are not true, or help you deal with difficult people. 

So, if you’re in that kind of situation, where your headmates are helping you to be more functional than you’d otherwise be? A good therapist is going to treat it like the hair dryer on the front seat of your car. 

Sure, it is a Weird Thing. It makes you look a bit eccentric, and it’s not normal. But if having headmates keeps you from having repeated nervous breakdowns, helps you hold down your job, or makes it so that you can deal with your abusers? Then it’s a win, and a good therapist won’t try to ‘fix’ that. 

It is not a therapist’s job to make you normal. It is a therapist’s job to give you your life back, on whatever terms are acceptable to you.

While I was working in the local hospital a few months back, part of the training included a dementia awareness course, and one of the stories I thought was very telling regarded a woman who had kept stealing towels from others in her residential home and leaving them to soak in her sink. After talking to her and her family, they found out she used to make a living doing laundry when she was much younger, so the residential home invested in one of those old washboard-and-bucket setups for her, and would leave some clothes by it in her room for her. The stealing stopped, and she became much more lively and talkative now that she had something to do that felt familiar to her.

With disabilities and mental illnesses, the reality of it is that many of them won’t go away, not with medicine or therapy or wishful thinking. Treatments are there to manage the conditions. And if the condition is being managed in a way that doesn’t cause harm to the person with that condition or their friends and family, then why should anyone look down on that management?

This just tells me what I’ve known all my life; neurotypicals don’t often care about mentally ill/cognitively disabled people living to their fullest, they just want them out of the way. Out of sight and out of mind.

Sure, a person with headmates who deals with them healthily might be living to their fullest and without repression or discomfort, but then neurotypicals would have to suffer them. Stimming might help a dyspraxic or autistic person express themselves and soothe anxiety, but its annoying and embarassing! And we can’t have that can we?

fullyarticulatedgoldskeleton:
“Treatment” isn’t a penalty cage you put crazy people in until they’re not crazy anymore

we dont have to be the same as neurotypical people to be healthy and have good lives.