lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
What is this?

Okay, how can I summarize this.  Someone wants to make a movie out of a self-published book.  Somehow gets the idea that if they game the New York Times Bestseller List to get the #1 spot, they will get a movie deal, starring herself as the protagonist.  A lot of money gets thrown around, a Potemkin publisher is set up to give this book the slightest lacquer of legitimacy, bulk orders are made at New York Times-reporting stores to game the system, nobody actually buys this book... oh, and actors from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, American Pie, and Twilight are involved.

Plus some bands.

I swear to god, this is the craziest thing I've seen in a while involving book publishing.  What on earth even is this.

Some intrepid newshounds are on the case, updating as new info comes in.

I don't even know what to make of this.

lb_lee: A happy little brain with a bandage on it, surrounded by a circle and the words LB Lee. (Default)
Well, fuck tonight.  Got involved in another beating. (Not me, someone else.)

Was walking home from BCR tonight, and I was almost home when I see someone jogging.  He's talking loudly and strangely, but I can't make out the words; I think maybe he's on earbud-phone or something, and then he comes into the streetlight and he is COVERED IN BLOOD.
He's going to be okay. I'm going to be okay. But seriously, FUCK tonight. )
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
We finished reading the Subtle Knife.  And wow, holy shitcake, no WONDER we didn't like it as kids.  What was that ENDING?  What did I even just READ?  What?

Me and Rogan ranted about it to each other for half an hour. (Nice thing about headmates, you can do that and odds are good SOMEONE else in there will care about your topic.  Mac and Biff totally jetted though.) Seriously, what?  WHAT?

Man, I need to go clean out my brain-mouth with Enron books now.

--Mori

lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Today I fell down an Internet rabbit hole of articles and research on trauma, memory, and dissociative amnesia.  And I'm kinda pissed.  Until very recently, I thought that recovered memories were inaccurate, rare, and that there was no research supporting them.  It turns out all that was False Memory Syndrome Foundation and assorted other miscreants' propaganda.  It's hard to fine (because of the sheer amount of shit and spin thrown out), but it exists!

The Recovered Memory Project, by Brown University.  Started because of a TV show claiming there was no case of recovered memories being corroborated, and an undergrad at Brown quickly found there was... just by searching for a few hours in databases.  This site racks up a ton of instances of memories being corroborated, in court and out of it.

Trauma & Memory, by the The Leadership Council on Child Abuse & Interpersonal Violence.  They're the source of that glorious FMSF debunking I found a while back, but it turns out they're a goldmine of links to other research the FSMF, Parental Alienation Syndrome, and the creepy assholes involved in pushing such ideas.

Consider This, Skeptics of Recovered Memory, by Ross E. Cheit. (I can't find a free full copy online, and DESPERATELY want one.) An incredibly snarky takedown of Loftus and the philosophy of False Memory Syndrome.  Turns out he also was someone whose recovered memories were corroborated by fellow victims.

Crook, L. (1995). Letter from Lynn Crook. Journal of Child Sexual Abuse, Vol. 4(2), 115-118. [personal profile] ljlee , this might be of particular interest to you, since I know you're in the law field!  One woman who's recovered memory testimony was corroborated and led to her father being found guilty was astounded to find she'd been used as a case study in a False Memory Syndrome book, claiming that her life was ruined by the court case and it was all made up.  She sent a letter to a scientific journal pointing out just how many times her story was misrepresented and fabricated, all while the book's writer claimed that her memory was doing just that!  Bonus attempts by the person she lambasts to force her into a Satanic Ritual Abuse mold.

I'm sure there'll be more, and I'll probably update this post a few times.  Right now, I'm just still kind of floored that fifteen years of researching multi shit, and only NOW am I finally finding all this.

lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Okay, so not long ago, I was contacted by an online reporter wanting to interview me about Andy Blake, the infamous abuser who ran multiple fandom cults around himself (and likely still is). The idea was that we were a somewhat removed party who could give info about DID/multi.

I am posting the information I gave publicly. I think Andy Blake is an abuser. Not was, is. His mental health, his supposed multiplicity, his IDENTITY, none of that affects his actions. I do not want anyone to think otherwise. However, because it's his identity we were asked to weigh in on: I do not believe Andy Blake is multiple. And even if he were, he'd just be an abusive multiple, no improvement.

A couple people have drawn parallels between Andy and ourself. We have both claimed to be multiple, we both have trans singlet presentations (though Andy likes to avoid admitting it), we have both claimed to have fictive members... we are even fairly close to the same age. The difference being, we haven't abused dozens of people and are not interested in using multiplicity as an excuse for bad behavior.

I have debunked Andy Blake's claims of multiplicity before, in the two-part MST. Now I take on his more recent claims. Let's go.

This is LONG. )

EDIT: one more thing.  I have no interest in concealing Blake's identity or past actions.  It is all easily Googlable and a matter of public record.
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Aaaand now we've been asked by a reporter to perhaps do an interview on Andy Blake.  And it's someone we actually know of BEFORE, because she was involved in the Msscribe wanks of yore.

I swear to god, guys.  Six degree of crackpot bacon.

Aaaaand apparently all that vertigo is actually my aura for migraines now, so I'm going to hide in the dark and hope the pain continues easing.

--Rogan
lb_lee: Raige making a horrified face. (D:)
We are a little infamous among our friend's circle for hanging on to old laptops.  Obsolete is from 1998, and has retired, being used only for word processing and MSDOS games.  BSOD, the workhorse computer that has produced and held all works of art and stories that you have seen thus far, is a Dell Inspiron from 2005.  I can't complain about its performance; it runs all the things I need it to, and while videos lag and new games are a no-go, I see it as keeping distractions from my workspace.

But now it has started trolling us, with the strangest assortment of audio problems I have ever seen.

It started mundanely enough: turning our audio off on three separate occasions, in two entirely different ways, both easily fixed once chased down.  Peculiar, but not particularly strange.

Then it started getting weird.  I'm listening to music on Windows Media Player, and suddenly, BSOD decided of its own volition to create an enormous random playlist of totally unrelated songs.  I didn't click anything.  It just did it.

Now, today, I was working, drawing, scanning, and manipping, listening to the Cabaret soundtrack, when suddenly, at the same time, my computer starts playing what sounds like freakin' police radio.

I do not own any audio or video files with anything like that.  My Internet wasn't in use.  And it wasn't coming outside; it was very clearly coming through my headphones.

I stop playing Cabaret.  The police radio continues for another five seconds or so, then stops, again, all on its own.

Guys.  I think this computer is possessed.  Seriously, what do you even DO in this situation?

--Rogan
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
I sold a comic to Kate Bornstein!

I SOLD A COMIC TO KATE BORNSTEIN.  And she asked me to sign it!

...

*flails, falls on bed, lies there*

--Rogan
lb_lee: Raige making a horrified face. (D:)
Ugh, I don’t even want to have to do this, but maymay actually posted about us to advertise our comics a while back, plus we met him in person, so I want to make this very clear.

He does not speak for me.  Anyone who tells people to kill themselves, especially people with histories of depression, are not people I want to be friends with or know, in any capacity.  I do not approve of his behavior.  He is not fighting abuse.  He is an asshole.

That is all.

--Rogan

lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
It is my opinion that learning about events of the past can prove valuable in coping with the events of the present.  I'm currently reading a biography called The Man Who Never Died: The Life, Times, and Legacy of Joe Hill, American Labor Icon.  For those of you who've never heard of Joe Hill, he was a songwriter who was particularly fond of taking popular hymns of the day and turning them into satirical calls for revolution.  He worked with the International Workers of the World, the huge union that was created in reaction to the hellish working conditions at the turn of the last century.

I'm not far enough into the book to say how good it is yet, but I'm enjoying it so far.  But while reading, I noticed something.  See, the book has these statistics about the income gaps and the treatment of workers back then.  Now, keep in mind, this is before World War I, when child labor was still something being fought over and worker welfare was horrific.  35,000 people were dying every year in industrial accidents.  The Bad Old Days, am I right?

So of course, here I am, resting on my modern laurels and thinking smugly to myself how enlightened our current day is.  But then I read this:

"A federal study in 1915 found... 2 percent of Americans owned 60% of the nation's wealth." (pg. 7)

And I thought, wait a minute.  I dug around through my random tumblr ephemerata and went statistic digging.  Now, I admit to not being all that bright in stats, so if anyone here sees any bull or misinformation, please let me know.  But what I found was that (1) the top 20% own over 80% of the nation's wealth now, (2) "some current estimates are that the top 1% own more than 50% of the nation's wealth." Also, in the totally not-official realm of "stuff I heard from my friend," I am actually in the 30th percentile of wealth in this country because even though I am living in the land of rusty nails and rotten fiberglass, I still have a (just barely) positive net worth.

I have no words for how I feel about this.  Tomorrow morning, I'm going to be volunteering at a local union working on the behalf of service, temp, and part-time workers, and suddenly I find myself quite motivated.

--Rogan
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
For Halloween, we were invited to a friend's place for Ed Wood movies.  We decided to watch Glen or Glenda.

It was bad, of course.  But midway through, it TRANSCENDED bad.  See, up until about the midway point, the story had been absurd, but mostly followable. (Except for Bela Lugosi RANDOMLY being a narrator and saying incoherent gibberish before disappearing.) But then something in the middle happens. The plot (what little there is) screeches to a halt, and the movie train hurls itself off the track, charging off into the distance, never to choo-choo again.

I don't even know what it WAS.  Like, it bore slight resemblance to a nightmare sequence, except everyone's awake.  The main character and his fiancee are getting married, only the devil is there, and then his fiancee is trapped under a piece of wood because...?  And then suddenly there are the world's most boring strippers, who're being... assaulted?  Or something?  And you have no idea who any of these characters are, what they're doing, you never see them again, nobody ever mentions any of those scenes again, and the whole time, I'm just going, "What?  WHAT?  WHAAAAAAAAAT?!" Also, there's a couch on its side that people keep rocking and smiling in, and no, I'm not being obfuscatory, the movie just really is that surreal.  You guys know the term 'Big-Lipped Alligator Moment?' This was, like, the Big-Lipped Alligator Ten Minutes.  Because it JUST KEEPS GOING.

And then, after this intermission of OMGWTFBBQ, the movie train somehow remembers what it's supposed to be doing, finds its tracks, and resumes upon its original course as though nothing ever happened, leaving me stunned and somehow numbed to it all.  The racism and sexism and general Ed Wood cracktasticness no longer effected me.  The Freudian explanations of cross-dressing no longer impacted me.  The painful 50sness of it didn't even register.

Because I had seen the Devil and the world's least strippy strippers.  And a rocking couch on its side.

Still not as bad as Eraserheard, though.

--Rogan
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
So, I read a book about a haunted vagina.  No, not that one, a DIFFERENT book about a haunted vagina, because apparently there's more than one. (I'm still waiting for a book about a haunted rectum, but I guess that just isn't Freudian enough.) I should have known better, seeing as the frickin' title was "the Haunted Vagina" and the cover blurb was all bragging how obscene and countercultural it was, but I decided what the hell, and then once I started, I became prey to the sentiment my friend Annie calls, "I have to finish or the book wins." It was very short, thankfully.

Allow me to sum up the book for you:


Stephanie Brown, you have to get out of here! YOUR VAGINA IS HAUNTED! )
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Soooo... now one of my electrical outlets no longer works.  And neither does Professor Clay's.

This means I am getting ALL my electrical stuff from one outlet (and presumably, so is Professor Clay).  It's like back in the Matchbox, where we got all our power through an extension cord sticking through a hole in the wall... only this room is too big for that to be nearly so effective.

WTF IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE BROKEN LIGHT BULB HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

Thank god I still had that extra power strip laying around, so I at least have my desk lamp back.

And they say the middle class have no adventures.  LIES AND HERESY Y'ALL.
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Give me a prompt, and I will write porn better than Laurell K. Hamilton. NSFW, duh )

(Comments screened, unless you ask me to do otherwise.) Man, you guys are shameless perverts! *laughs* Unscreened comments.
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
AAAAAAAH!  AAAAAAAAH!

Do not click this link, Heather.

Somebody please tell me this is bollocks.  Please tell me this is a web prank and that this didn't actually happen.  Because if it did, there is no text size large enough for my D:

EDIT: Here.  Have the story of Norway knighting a penguin.  Maybe it'll help.
lb_lee: M.D. making a shocked, confused face (serious thought)
Apparently "previous entries" on my friend's page dies after 200 entries back.

That gets me up to the beginning of May.

Yeesh, I don't even have that big a flist...
lb_lee: A happy little brain with a bandage on it, surrounded by a circle and the words LB Lee. (wtf)
I don't know why I'm still reading Love + Sex with Robots. I swear, this thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

"A desirable appearance is even easier to achieve in a robot. The purchase form will ask questions about dimensions and basic physical features, such as height, weight, color of eyes and hair, whether muscular or not, whether circumcised (if appropriate), size of feet, length of legs (and length of penis, in the case of malebots)..." (pg. 145)

"[A robot] can be designed with any wished-for physical characteristics, including skin, eye, and hair color; size of genitalia; and sexual orientation." (pg. 163)

YES, I GET IT. I CAN GET A WELL-HUNG ROBOT.  THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND PENIS.  Psh, penis size.  I get that customization, I am going to demand a 'bot with a two-inch clitoris.  Nothing else will do.

This author screams straight to me.  Why then does he shoehorn penis into random robot descriptions?

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