Just one more episode left, I’m so bereft. I offer thanks to brilliant illustrator Kyle Hilton for designing four pages of paper dolls suitable for framing!
From Vulture at New York Magazine:
As the first season of Girls nears it conclusion, we the public are forced to imagine a world without a constant source of television controversy and information about “the stuff that gets up around the side of condoms.” What will we argue about now? To tide you over until season two, Vulture’s Kyle Hilton created a series of Girls paper dolls — complete with party dresses, pixellated dick pics, and an accidental crack pipe — to help keep the debate alive at home.
Hit the link for printables for all four of your faves. Now if only Kyle Hilton would do the guys!
David McCullough, Jr. a high school teacher in Wellesley, MA, recently peppered his commencement address with declarations that none of the graduates is special. His “downer” speech has garnered national attention. An excerpt:
You are not special. You are not exceptional.
Contrary to what your soccer trophy suggests, your glowing seventh grade report card, despite every assurance of a certain corpulent purple dinosaur, that nice Mister Rogers and your batty Aunt Sylvia, no matter how often your maternal caped crusader has swooped in to save you… you’re nothing special.
Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have.
…do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not.
As someone who has often spoken out against the Self-Esteem Movement that took hold in the 90s and insured a Participant trophy for every boy and girl, it’s a shame he couched his speech in these terms – rather harsh for a celebration of real achievement, at least in some cases. Towards the close of his speech, he delivers his message in a more palatable format, but that part has been mostly lost in the media cacaphony:
You see, if everyone is special, then no one is. If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless. In our unspoken but not so subtle Darwinian competition with one another — which springs, I think, from our fear of our own insignificance, a subset of our dread of mortality — we have of late, we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement. We have come to see them as the point — and we’re happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that’s the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole. No longer is it how you play the game, no longer is it even whether you win or lose, or learn or grow, or enjoy yourself doing it… Now it’s “So what does this get me?”
The thing is, I’m sure that Wellesley High School did graduate some extraordinarily high achieving kids, special kids who will probably go on to do some very interesting things. What we really need to do is distinguish and reward those kids whose self-esteem is built on real achievement, while witholding positive reinforcement for just showing up.
Last Valentine’s Day, Nick Bergus found a product on Amazon that made him laugh out loud. It was a 55 gallon drum of personal lubricant. He hit the Facebook Like button and quipped:
For Valentine’s Day. And every day. For the rest of your life.
Before long, Facebook had turned it into an ad, paid for by Amazon. Nick found his profile shot and “endorsement” appearing all over Facebook, and many of his personal friends and acquaintances noticed as well. Awkward.
Apparently, in the fine print of the terms of service around “Like” – ing something on Facebook, you’re consenting to hawk any product you like if Facebook deems it profitable.
This is yet another way you can compromise your reputation to a potential employer or institution. And it’s yet another reason to hate Facebook.