4 times the gates were open
Saturday, June 13th, 2015And by “gates” I mean the cineplex doors and by “open” I mean they accepted my money for the pleasure of watching Mad Max Fury Road again.
– I noticed another scene with a War Boy lifting a War Pup in the background: after Joe realizes Furiosa has “stolen” his wives and the war drums are beating, they start lowering the vehicles from within the Citadel to the ground below. As one vehicle starts being lowered, you can see a War Boy lifting a Pup off the platform and setting him down on the cavern floor.
– Ace. Man, Ace. After Morsov’s historic death and while the other War Boys are still shouting “Witness” in really joyous voices as if the guy dying truly was an awesome thing, Ace makes the V8 salute and bows his head and he sounds solemn when he says “Witness him.” He’s significantly older than the average War Boy, too, which would seem to indicate that he hasn’t been particularly eager to go to Valhalla any time soon. I think it’s a really great touch on the part of the writers and director. They might all have to live in Joe’s world and he might have them believing he’s a god, but they don’t all have to accept his bullshit in their heart of hearts.
– The War Boys’ combat style requires a lot of communication between the lancer and the driver. Nux and Slit seem to work very well together, but it’s hard to tell where they rank among their peers because of how insanely badass ‘normal’ is for War Boys.
– Even seeing it a fourth time, the driving-into-the-sandstorm scene is still fucking epic. I think for any first time viewer seeing Nux cheerfully proclaim it a “lovely day” while watching his brothers-in-arms get swept up into a fiery storm really drives home how brainwashed the War Boys are. To us it looks like they’re dying horribly – hellish is the word that keeps coming to mind – but to Nux they’re heading to Valhalla in an usually spectacular fashion.
– Slit must have heard Max angrily shout “That’s my head” while he was hurling lances mere inches above Max’s head. That explains why he specifically threatened Max with decapitation. I didn’t think he’d heard Max or had been actually paying attention to what the “raging feral” was saying, but clearly he did.
– “…breeding stock, battle fodder. You’re an old man’s battle fodder.” I find it really interesting that the wives view the War Boys as fellow victims of Joe’s. I mean, they are, but it’s incredibly insightful and mature for the wives to realize it. It would have been understandable if they’d hated them as extensions of Joe’s whole vile regime. It’s intellectually and philosophically impressive and it makes me wonder if the wives sat around in the vault having really deep debates about various things.
– The wives recognize the People Eater and the Bullet Farmer and can name the stuff each has in his war party. This would seem to indicate they did not spend their entire time as Joe’s slaves locked up in the vault, that they had the opportunity to meet or at least see Joe’s allies. I can easily imagine Joe having dinner parties or something – he does love spectacles.
– When Toast grabs the rifle to reload it, Angharad looks shocked and Toast gives her a look that seems almost defiant.
– The Imperator who dives in front of Joe to take the bullet for him when Furiosa shoots at Joe (while being shielded by Angharad) is the same Imperator who’d told Rictus to stop using the flamethrower because it endangered the wives.
– I never noticed this before during the previous three times I saw the movie, but there’s a very brief shot of Nux sitting in the lookout cab at the back of the war rig right after Angharad falls and goes under Joe’s car. I can’t wait to get the DVD so I can watch those few seconds again and again. It really was so brief that I didn’t even get the chance to register the expression on Nux’s face.
– After the war rig is out of the mud (thanks to using Nux’s suggestion to use the “tree thing” to pull it out), Nux happily says to Capable, “I never thought I’d get to do something so shine.” He’s probably referring to driving the war rig, however briefly, as per his previous declaration that he wanted to drive the war rig as his reward. It’s still heartrendingly adorable.
– I wonder what Nux is thinking while Max and Furiosa have their conversation about hope and redemption. He was obviously listening closely. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that his response when Max, Furiosa, the wives, and the Vuvalini all turn to look at him for his input on the new plan is “Feels like hope.”
– Speaking of the new plan scene, God, I love the way Capable and Nux exchange a look before she dismounts from the bike and offers her input to the others. There’s clearly an “us” – a joint making of decisions that will affect them together.
– I feel so bad for the poor War Boy who has to give the People Eater’s grossly bloated feet a pedicure. I wonder if they drew lots and he lost. It took six of them to lift the bastard up into his vehicle.
– When the polecat grabs Toast out of the war rig and puts her in Joe’s car, Joe keeps a gun pointed at her. He’s no longer deluding himself about his wives being “stolen”.
– There’s a look of disbelief in Nux’s eyes when Cheedo announces that Joe is dead. How does it feel to have your god die, I wonder? Did Nux go to his death thinking he would see Joe in Valhalla? Or did the knowledge that Joe had been killed and was therefore no god destroy his belief in Valhalla? Did he sacrifice himself know that there was nothing else, nothing to look forward to after death?
– I didn’t realize before how entirely the decision to accept Furiosa’s overthrow of Joe was the decision of the War Pups. Yes, the Wretched are shouting, “Bring them up! Bring them up!” but they don’t matter. The milk mothers turn on the water, but the adult men are standing around frozen. It’s the Pups who glare at Corpus as though daring him to voice an objection and the Pups who pull the lever to start the platform rising. Guess it felt like hope to them. :)
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Wednesday, March 4th, 2015My 7 year old son was shot down by his 1st grade teacher
The american public education system in a nutshell tho
My third grade teacher actually had a conversation with my mom that I was reading to well and told her to stop having me read at home
My first grade teacher said that it was problematic that I was reading ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade and asked my parents to stop letting me read Harry Potter.
My fourth grade teacher thought it was wrong for my dad to be teaching me complex math because it fascinated me.
My elementary school music teacher hated the way my piano teacher taught me, and how I was more advanced than many of her students, and so told me, in front of my peers and my mother, that I was not good enough to participate in the state solo festival. She would not give me the form. We had to procure it from the district instead. She also hated how I excelled at reading and playing music for the recorder, and so she refused to give me my “belts” (colored beads to signify our level) and humiliated me in front of the class repeatedly.
My eighth grade algebra teacher used to fail me on take home tests because I didn’t solve problems exactly the way she showed us in class; I used methods that we had learned for other types of problems that also applied to these. She took points off my tests because I didn’t bring a calculator even though I got 100% without it, because I was able to do it by hand. I had to call my father, who is an engineer, down to the school to shout her down and give me back my A in the class.
My 10th grade Spanish teacher yelled at me in front of the class numerous times because she didn’t like the way I took notes; she thought that since I didn’t write every word off the slide, I wasn’t getting it all down. I had to explain to her that people who have taken advanced courses, like AP or IB classes, know that in a fast-paced learning environment you need to take quick shorthand notes that contain the necessary information rather than wasting time writing every word. She almost gave me detention.
My 11th grade English teacher gave me a poor mark on my first short essay because she believed that I was looking up unnecessarily complex words in a thesaurus to try and get better marks. The phrases in question: “laced with expletives” and “bombarded”. She wouldn’t hear any defense from me.
My 11th grade history teacher failed me on an essay about the 1950s because I misread the prompt. Except the prompt wasn’t words; it was a political cartoon. One of the figures was clearly president Eisenhower, but the other I couldn’t place. My teacher would not tell us who it was. I labelled him as the governor of Little Rock Arkansas during the integration period, and wrote an essay about that subject. My teacher said that no, it was Joseph McCarthy, and that there was a small picture of the man in our textbook and therefore I should have recognized him instantly. Half the class, apparently, did not.
The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.
“The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.”
Fun story time. I loved to read. So much so, I was reading chapter books in kindergarden. I broke the record for reading points in elementary school. They actually had to start making up prizes for me. No one in the history of the school had ever read so many books in a year. Basically, my class liked me because I won those suckers pizza parties in my spare time.
In second grade, I had a teacher named Ms. Mobley who believed all children should be average. She flat out told my father that all children should make C’s, and should never strive for more than that.
Not only was she insane, she also would routinely spell things wrong for us to copy for our spelling tests. Later, when we spelled those words wrong on the test, she would mark us off. Yes, our own teacher was sabotaging us.
I should have been tested for gifted classes, but I was not. Why? Ms. Mobley didn’t believe in “gifted” children.
This teacher had tenure and could not be fired.
Never forget.
“The American school system is not here to educate us or to encourage us to learn; it’s here to keep us in line and silent. It’s here to keep us from deviating and being our own people and forming our own ideas. Don’t let it win.”
George Orwell couldn’t invent this shit
it’s twisted stuff
this is important.
I want to preface this by saying that the majority of educators that I know or have met or have guided me have been good people and that some of them have even been amazing, talented, and invaluable. But like all institutions, mediocrity has a way of taking refuge and do a lot of damage in the process.
My preschool teacher made me sit in the corner whenever I corrected her spelling.
In first grade I was put in special ed and told that I had a “learning disability”. I was there for several weeks before my parents found out, stormed the school, and realized that it wasn’t that I couldn’t learn but that I was finishing an hour’s worth of schoolwork in 5 minutes and the teacher just couldn’t or didn’t want to deal with me.
Somehow I failed nearly every test I took in 9th grade algebra, no matter how hard I tried. When I asked my teacher for help, she told me that I should give up, there was nothing I could do, and I was “never going to get it.” Undeterred, I enrolled in a community college algebra course over the summer and aced it. Years later, I ran into my former English teacher who told me that my 9th grade algebra teacher had been “quietly forced into retirement” because she was misgrading the tests of students of color and purposefully failing them. Turns out she was a complete racist.
Reblogging for reasons.
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