To further elaborate on this, my point is that if you’re going to take a stand against any business or organization that has done terrible things to another human being by not spending your money or time there there, you’re going to be hard-pressed to find alternatives. It’s easy to criticize and point fingers, but sanctimony and moral superiority’s a double-edged sword, because exploitation runs so far and so wide that no one is perfect. How many people were outraged by the leak of the celebrity nudes, but then watched the Ray Rice video on TMZ, one of the all-time most deplorable websites with regards to privacy? (No, I didn’t watch it. I don’t need to, or want to.)

That doesn’t make that exploitation or abuse okay, but because of that, avoidance is not acceptable to me. We shouldn’t be changing for them - we should be demanding that they change for us. Maybe I’m an optimist, but I don’t buy the “one rotten egg spoils the whole barrel” argument. There are decent people in this world, they just don’t sell clicks.

If You Care About Women and Still Support the NFL, You Are a Hypocrite

I have some thoughts about this, of course. I posted a comment there, but given the comment issues Jezebel and Gawker have had, I’m going to throw this up here, as well…

I don’t think any woman football fan isn’t struggling with these issues. Not sure we needed the additional shaming, but alright, I’ll admit it - I’m a female football fan, and therefore, a hypocrite.

The problem is that abuse of women is vastly bigger than the NFL - the array of companies, organizations, celebrities that do horrible things to women is a long and growing list. At some point, do we just have to not consume anything to never be a hypocrite?

Looking at the “supporting a specific team is supporting the NFL and makes you a hypocrite” model, the examples above could be expanded accordingly…

Movie studios give checks to Roman Polanski for his films. To not be a hypocrite, do we never see any movie put out by any studio that has also put out a Polanski film? Do we also never see any movie put out by any studio that has put out a Woody Allen film? Do we never go to the theaters that show those movies, and therefore receive profits from the films made by those directors? Or subscribe to Netflix, or Amazon Prime, or Hulu, or other streaming methods that offer their films?

Two and a Half Men is aired by CBS. To not be a hypocrite, do we therefore never watch anything on CBS? Or the CW, who they own? Or look at the TV Guide Channel, which they also own?

Chris Brown gets money from his record label(s) - Jive, RCA. To not be a hypocrite, do we not buy any music put out by these labels? Or use streaming services that also give them money (like Spotify)?

College and university campuses are overflowing with sexual assault. To not be a hypocrite, do we never send our kids (should we choose to have them) to college?

Magazines and fashion companies/brands push unhealthy body images out to women. To not be a hypocrite, do we never buy a magazine that writes those articles or publishes those ads? Or any clothes from companies that use size 0 models?

Or, to bring it close to home - Gawker did nothing for long periods of time about the comment harassment on its various websites, including this one. So do we never read any website owned and published by Gawker?

The problem is that no matter where you’re spending your money (or who you’re accepting it from) - there’s a good chance it’s going to or coming from someone who’s done terrible things to women (or minorities, or gays, or…).”

Someone else in the comments mentioned that the FIFA is also, as it turns out, pretty terrible. Sorry, everyone who watched the World Cup - you might be a hypocrite, too.

It does absolutely feel like capitulation because you didn’t WIN at New York to where you own a million dollar brownstone that now costs 4 million or whatever. But it also feels like breaking up with everyone you’ve ever loved all at the same time. It feels like you’re going on the spaceship to colonize another planet or something. It feels completely fucked up and scary and incorrect to leave this place. and some of us just gotta workshop that shit plus, also, it’s this THING to where if you don’t win; you age out. I wanted a car and a house and a washer and dryer. and it’s #basic as fuck to want those things but I got too old to care about how it seems.

Mary HK Choi 

Flaubert believed that anticipation was the purest form of pleasure… and the most reliable. And that while the things that actually happen to you would invariably disappoint, the things that never happened to you would never dim. Never fade. They would always be engraved in your heart with a sort of sweet sadness.

I am not a lonely person. I love solitude. There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. Writers know that. I have never met a writer who does not crave to be alone. We have to be alone to do what we do.

—Mary Ruefle (via sometimesagreatnotion)

On the last road trip, someone mentioned he was getting old.

“Old? I’m getting better,” he said.

Felix Hernandez and Seattle, a love story

Across the country, there were thousands of places just like it, places that were not only isolated but insulated, places that had gone through the growing pains of America without anyone paying attention, places that existed as islands unto themselves with no link to the great cities except that they all sang the same national anthem to the same flag at sporting events. They were the kind of places that you saw from a plane on a clear night if you happened to look out the window, a concentration of little beaded dots breaking up the empty landscape with several veins leading in and out, and then bleak emptiness once again.
It was a view that every traveler had seen a million times before, and maybe if you were a passenger on a plane bisecting the night, you looked down and saw those lights and wondered what it would be like to live in an Odessa, to inhabit one of those infinitesimal dots, to be in a place that seemed so painfully far away from everything, so completely out of the mainstream of life. Perhaps you wondered what values people held on to in a place like that, what they cared about. Or perhaps you went back to your book, eager to get as far away as possible from that yawning maw that seemed so unimaginable, so utterly unimportant.

—H.G. Bissinger, Friday Night Lights

brightwalldarkroom:

As a Seattle-based site, we can’t not make some mention of the Seahawks on here this week.
So: GO HAWKS.
(We strongly advocate taking one day off from watching movies to instead watch the Seahawks dismantle the Broncos in the Super Bowl this Sunday.)
(Or, you know, at least watching something like Necessary Roughness or North Dallas Forty.)

I whole-heartedly endorse this statement.

brightwalldarkroom:

As a Seattle-based site, we can’t not make some mention of the Seahawks on here this week.

So: GO HAWKS.

(We strongly advocate taking one day off from watching movies to instead watch the Seahawks dismantle the Broncos in the Super Bowl this Sunday.)

(Or, you know, at least watching something like Necessary Roughness or North Dallas Forty.)

I whole-heartedly endorse this statement.

I wasn’t born into a football family. My father apparently loved it, so I might’ve been introduced to the sport sooner if he hadn’t passed away.
As it was, my mother and I were first and foremost a baseball family. I knew the Kingdome as the home of the Seattle Mariners, the place where Ken Griffey Jr. would knock off homeruns to the tune of exploding fireworks.
We would regularly catch games for as long as I could remember, and eventually had the lucky timing of being season-ticket holders during one of the most exciting times to be a Mariners fan. I recited stats like I was constantly being quizzed. I knew how each player did against righties and lefties, who their best and worst match-ups were, if they were better in certain uniforms, certain stadiums, or times of day. I even skipped going to my senior prom in favor of watching Freddy Garcia beat the Yankees, and have zero regrets about that decision to this day.
Football was another world. It was big, burly men getting drunk and screaming at the television while watching other big, burly men hit each other. A few people who were into the sport passed through my circles, but no one I was close with, and no one who ever seemed interested in explaining the finer points of the game to me. I was a geeky, shy girl who hung out with a lot of geeky, shy kids. In high school, the only reason I went to football games was to look at butts.

I got to college, and more people I knew were into it. At some point, they began commenting to me on how well the Seahawks were doing. So, yes, I first started paying attention to the Seahawks during what would eventually become their first Super Bowl run. I watched the game, I saw the questionable calls (which, admittedly, I only understood were questionable thanks to a friend I was watching with), I came away wanting to know more about football, anyway.

I remained a casual fan for years. I was afraid of being labelled a band-wagoner (I have plenty of feelings about this, too), still didn’t know a ton of football fans, and still didn’t fully understand the game and how it was played. I watched from afar, picking up pieces of football knowledge here and there, catching Hawks games when I could (which is plenty hard on the East Coast). Occasionally, a friend and I would get together for a game.

But the team just didn’t feel like mine. Coming around to the Seahawks when I did, it felt like I was peering in on something as an outsider, watching a film that was halfway over. I didn’t know all the stories and struggles, and with limited access to games, and limited knowledge of the sport, it felt like I would never catch up.  As an obsessive, that just didn’t sit right with me.

Everything changed for me when Pete Carroll came to town.

Even as someone who didn’t know much about football, Pete Carroll was fascinating to me. His rah-rah enthusiasm and positive attitude, his past failures as an NFL coach contrasted with his unparalleled success at USC, his rivalry with Jim Harbaugh… The Seahawks’ slate was wiped clean, and from that point on, I started following football more closely than ever. I learned more about Carroll, about players he and new GM John Schneider brought on, guys like Marshawn Lynch, and Richard Sherman.
Most people who are Seahawks fans right now will tell you that when Marshawn Lynch had his “Beast Quake” run against the Saints in the first round of the playoffs that year, that was the first time the tone for this team was set. Most of us probably remember where we were when that happened. They were the losingest football team in history to make the playoffs that year. Then they got their hands on Russell Wilson. This year, many pundits predicted them to make the Super Bowl before the season even began. And here they are.

I wasn’t born into a football family. My father apparently loved it, so I might’ve been introduced to the sport sooner if he hadn’t passed away.

As it was, my mother and I were first and foremost a baseball family. I knew the Kingdome as the home of the Seattle Mariners, the place where Ken Griffey Jr. would knock off homeruns to the tune of exploding fireworks.

We would regularly catch games for as long as I could remember, and eventually had the lucky timing of being season-ticket holders during one of the most exciting times to be a Mariners fan. I recited stats like I was constantly being quizzed. I knew how each player did against righties and lefties, who their best and worst match-ups were, if they were better in certain uniforms, certain stadiums, or times of day. I even skipped going to my senior prom in favor of watching Freddy Garcia beat the Yankees, and have zero regrets about that decision to this day.

Football was another world. It was big, burly men getting drunk and screaming at the television while watching other big, burly men hit each other. A few people who were into the sport passed through my circles, but no one I was close with, and no one who ever seemed interested in explaining the finer points of the game to me. I was a geeky, shy girl who hung out with a lot of geeky, shy kids. In high school, the only reason I went to football games was to look at butts.

I got to college, and more people I knew were into it. At some point, they began commenting to me on how well the Seahawks were doing. So, yes, I first started paying attention to the Seahawks during what would eventually become their first Super Bowl run. I watched the game, I saw the questionable calls (which, admittedly, I only understood were questionable thanks to a friend I was watching with), I came away wanting to know more about football, anyway.

I remained a casual fan for years. I was afraid of being labelled a band-wagoner (I have plenty of feelings about this, too), still didn’t know a ton of football fans, and still didn’t fully understand the game and how it was played. I watched from afar, picking up pieces of football knowledge here and there, catching Hawks games when I could (which is plenty hard on the East Coast). Occasionally, a friend and I would get together for a game.

But the team just didn’t feel like mine. Coming around to the Seahawks when I did, it felt like I was peering in on something as an outsider, watching a film that was halfway over. I didn’t know all the stories and struggles, and with limited access to games, and limited knowledge of the sport, it felt like I would never catch up.  As an obsessive, that just didn’t sit right with me.

Everything changed for me when Pete Carroll came to town.

Even as someone who didn’t know much about football, Pete Carroll was fascinating to me. His rah-rah enthusiasm and positive attitude, his past failures as an NFL coach contrasted with his unparalleled success at USC, his rivalry with Jim Harbaugh… The Seahawks’ slate was wiped clean, and from that point on, I started following football more closely than ever. I learned more about Carroll, about players he and new GM John Schneider brought on, guys like Marshawn Lynch, and Richard Sherman.

Most people who are Seahawks fans right now will tell you that when Marshawn Lynch had his “Beast Quake” run against the Saints in the first round of the playoffs that year, that was the first time the tone for this team was set. Most of us probably remember where we were when that happened. They were the losingest football team in history to make the playoffs that year. Then they got their hands on Russell Wilson. This year, many pundits predicted them to make the Super Bowl before the season even began. And here they are.

If the Seahawks’ resident chatterbox Richard Sherman doesn’t do it for you, try Marshawn Lynch on for size. Lynch has been previously cast in negative light by the media, and these days avoids it to the extent that the NFL nearly fined him for not participating in mandatory media sessions.

Now when he speaks, it’s in charmingly short, candid statements like these.

Deion: “You’re kinda shy.”
Marshawn: “Nah.”
Deion: “You just don’t wanna talk, really.”
Marshawn: “I’m just ‘bout that action, boss.”
Deion: “You’re ‘bout to go get it, you just like to do it.”
Marshawn: “That’s what it is. I ain’t ever seen no talkin’ win me nothin’.”