Showing posts from January, 2020

Cruel Rules

There is trouble brewing in Milo’s Finishing School. Factions have formed, debates have been joined, tempers have frayed. Much popcorn has been popped by those watching from the sidelines, but the food fights among the cool kids have gotten quite animated , and the whispering in the DMs has reached fever pitch. Rival cliques have been plotting ways to take over the chat and drive out the thots and the trolls, while the trolls themselves dance gleefully in the margins. None of which, arguably, should come as a surprise given the stated mission of the School: We take the mischievous, the perverted and the delinquent...and turn them into certified internet terrorists, by teaching them the fine arts of trolling, abuse and harassment. Except that, as we have seen , there are Rules by which the students are expected to abide and which the recording admins are expected to enforce. Or are they? Even among the admins, there is a debate. On the one hand, there are those who would argue

“Everyone Who Hates Me Is Ugly”

Milo’s chatroom on Telegram is not a “safe space.” It says so, right there in the Rules that new members are required to read after intoning “HAIL, QUEEN MILO!”: You are enrolled in this Finishing School to support Milo and learn how to be an effective agent of chaos.  We believe in the supremacy of Western civilization, traditional moral values, the family, free expression, Christianity, capitalism and the ritual public humiliation of our enemies.  We also have ground rules. Some to keep the peace, others because they amuse us. The Dean is churlish and spiteful, his rule is cruel and unpredictable, and his decisions are final. I, for example, am at liberty to work on this blog post today because I have been sent to the doghouse (“Return to your scrolls”) for going postal on the chat two days ago. I know, right?! Me?!! Sweet little old me?!!! I may ::ahem:: have spoken in ALL CAPS about how sick I was of seeing nothing but ugliness in the chat and gagged one or two people

Judgment Chat

It all happened so quickly. “INCOMING,” Milo announced, but some of us kept talking. “FROM THE DEAN’S OFFICE,” Milo continued. “Yesterday, a day that will live in infamy, M. voted to apply a Thanos Tax to R., wiping her entire 13,000-strong message history from the chat as though she never existed. I am here to tell you what will happen now.” Even so, some of us kept talking. “@S. @s.,” Milo tagged the recording admins. “Why are people still talking?” At which, I answered a question in a long-running thread—and only then saw that Milo had asked for silence. “My lord,” I acknowledged him, but it was too late. Milo pronounced sentence: “@S. 24 hour gags for anyone who spoke after ‘INCOMING.’” There was still chatter, including from some of my fellow Faculty. “@S.,” Milo commanded. “Keep going with anyone still babbling. I’m not done. @s. If he’s away, my trusted deputy, perhaps you could do the honors. Now, like I said.” @s. confirmed: “3 gagged already, more to come

One Glance of His Eye

What would you give for Milo to look at you in this way? To judge from the way the members of Milo’s Finishing School talk about him, if you are a fan,  everything . (To enroll, go to his Telegram channel and wait for the invite link. Applications are accepted in the same spirit in which instruction is offered: cruelly and unpredictably.) We have had quite the lively past few weeks, with everyone in the chat jockeying for Milo’s attention. Some have made memes . Others have written poems . Others have attempted to troll the chat with descriptions of their sexual proclivities (real or feigned). Others—okay, only one—have had sex with food. (We think. There are videos, but the soundtracks are ambiguous to my ear, and the grapefruit, pumpkin pie, and oatmeal aren’t talking.) Others outright beg: “Milo, pay attention to me!” I, of course, keep writing about him on my blog. Sometimes it works, and Milo will respond: “Angel.” “You’re my favorite.” “Nobody understands me but you.” Occ

Survive the Jive in Academia!

I was very happy to join Tom Rowsell on Survive the Jive  for a conversation about my experience in academia as a Christian and the problem of getting inside the medieval mind. Which is harder: thinking like an academic or thinking like a medieval Christian?! Join us to find out! For a complete list of my video, radio, and podcast appearances, see Bear On Air .

THAT Bitch v Hamplanet of the Week

I was in a better place to write this post yesterday, but I had to put my make-up on and go to campus. Let’s see if I can recapture the ::blech::  feelings .  Think Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief, only for carb withdrawal. Can you say “12 days of Christmas chocolate too many”? Step 1: The 3-day Headache. Step 2: The total crashing sense of abandonment. Step 3: The loss of inhibition about saying the bitchy things one always wishes one could say if only one weren’t so nice.  Step 4: Apparently now, when the headache is a dim memory, the gloominess doesn’t seem to be accessible, and the bitchiness has subsided into a general grumpiness about how meaningless  it all is.  It’s a good thing I took notes.  I have a theory about carbs, specifically starches and sugars. Carbs are basically a drug, like alcohol. As with alcohol, not everybody is susceptible to addiction, but—to judge from the prevalence of hamplanets—many are. My guess is that, metabolically speaki