Welcome to the weekend, Ravishers!
Here we are, your fearless Internet explorers (pun totally intended), back with another melange of web flotsam for you to scavenge.
In this episode: dancing cougars, chill-ass sloths, a wacked-out-but-somehow-super-satisfying band all the way from Japan in the '80s, and some moving and real longform stories.
Read, watch, listen, and enjoy.
This incredible essay on living with schizophrenia and the diagnostic hierarchy mentally ill people have created to distinguish themselves from the "bad" kind of crazy. This is what I said about it on Facebook earlier this week: This is such an important thing to understand about mental illness. I shunned an OCD diagnosis for most of my life because it was one of the "actually crazy" forms of being crazy, and even OCD is markedly higher up on the totem pole of socially palatable conditions compared to schizophrenia. The hierarchy is there, and it's something our community needs to address more. It's certainly something I'm going to work harder at acknowledging.
I read this incredible story of one of the numerous women we entrust with our loved ones, but don't, in my opinion, pay or protect NEARLY enough. I met so many men and women like Emma during my mom's illness, and I could go on and on about the bum deal we give caregivers in the U.S. But instead, just read it.
I have watched this BYU Cougarette dance routine on a loop this week.
While this fills me with homeland pride, the recently exposed sexual assault policies of BYU extinguish that flame pretty quickly. Read more about the issue and sign a petition to change BYU's Honor Code here.
I watched stoned people get surprised by a sloth.
I don't really understand how I found Picky Picnic — or why I am enjoying their bizarro sound — but I've been listening to copies of their old LP graciously uploaded to YouTube by some obtuse Kierkegaard scholar weirdly proud of being from Iowa (I'm guessing here, but also pretty sure I'm right).
I listened to "666" by the fantastically-named Shitkid.
I can't decide whether I like Picky Picnic or they give me a headache. Or rather, if I like the headache they give me.
I think the verdict on Picky Picnic is the latter of your suggestions. They make my face hurt but I LOVE THE PAIN. Stoned People Get Surprised By A Sloth made me do my witch cackle. I'm the guy in the red shirt 105%.