by Moyurie Som
What happens when you as a woman, speak up about your experience of getting molested by a man whose social standing is higher than yours?
Let us see, in the light of the accusations made against TVF comedian Arunabh Kumar.
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What happens when you as a woman, speak up about your experience of getting molested by a man whose social standing is higher than yours? Let us see, in the light of the accusations made against TVF comedian Arunabh Kumar. by Amrit Paul  KnowYourMeme.com says it's a website dedicated to documenting Internet phenomena. With the shelf life of as-long-as-your-attention-span-is, memes are given likes, fed shares and served an internet death. Are memes a work of art? What's the threshold aesthetic value beyond which a form of expression is considered "art"? I mean, Eva Green's resting sadface is a work of art. Even without Prisma. by Devanjali Banerjee  “They call for you, and everyone like you, everyone who always felt like they were out of place, like something was wrong, like the world was not built for them, to take a deeper look at what’s really broken (hint: it’s not you). Every geek feminist and aspiring geek feminist; every cultural revolutionary; every loud, angry, weepy, mad kid who wanted to be a hero but wasn’t sure where to start…”
The title of the book caught my eye before anything else did. “The Geek Feminist Revolution”. It sounded bold and the cover looked intriguing. I clicked on it within seconds. You learn to expect no less from Ms. Hurley, who also happens to be a successful and effective ad-woman; clickbait is her bread and butter. The most satisfying thing is realizing that she backs up every word in the title. by Luv Mehta  Comedy’s quite an underrated genre. We’ll love comedy movies and TV shows, but whenever we have to mention our favourites or give out awards, it’s always the serious stuff. Which is undeserved, because comedy’s a damn fine genre, and quite hard to get right.
Rick’s told you about Community before, one of the best TV shows of all time. I’ll take this opportunity to talk about a different medium altogether - YouTube. And in the process, get you hooked on to my favourite comedy channel ever, how they work, and what we can learn from them. This post is sponsored by the Heritage Quiz Festival, coming up on the 31st of March and lasting for three days, and including a pop culture round focused on YouTube. Do come on over! by Amrit Paul and Radhikaa Sharma So, recently, I read this book a friend recommended- if stuffing their own copy down my backpack counts as a recommendation, that is- and despite its brutal, angry tone and hard-hitting content, I was hooked. And that's how A Million Little Pieces became one of my favourite books. A grammatical nightmare filled with rage that hits you almost physically, Frey's memoir is unnerving- the story of an alcoholic and crack addict, who has a ten-year-record of addiction…by the age of 23.  by Amrit Paul Don't get me wrong - I used to love berlin-artparasites. Used to, when it made sense. (Now, if you're thinking, "When did it ever?", well, I knew you would.) Of late, it has become pretty vague and monotonous, and if you'd followed the fall through, you must've noticed something was off. It is, to quote a friend, " too high school now." While there's nothing wrong with a page being too "high school" (I mean, we've all been there - FINISH SCHOOL, CHILDREN), it limits art. You can't feel the connect between images and writings anymore. Or maybe, I can't. I used to. Just as bad. (If you're thinking, "haha 'it limits art' naki, pleb saala", I knew you would.) In its (much) better days, it used to be curated by Jovanny Ferreyra, who sadly didn't own the page. Due to some ideological differences, he left the reins, and boy did it go astray. Upside, however, is that he now has his own page, The Artidote (parasites, antidote, geddit?). While that's all about why berlin-artparasites doesn't make much sense (to me) anymore, (and why Artidote might fill that void, and Nihilist Memes would stare at it), that's only half the claim. Now, for some Joan Cornellà, and a smile you've seen. Somewhere.  |
