the recent New Yorker video on “why millennial own so many plants” used the term “plantfluencer” within the first 5 seconds and I have not known peace since that day
this is the reason I hope tumblr continues to exist for a long damn time because no one, not even the most successful and cool popular blogs can ever reach “influencer” status on this blue hell. which is possibly why it will go under but listen, I will cling to this seeming last vestige of enthusiastic hobbyists and goofy storytellers and queer scientists and feral activists and wholesome knowledge seekers untainted by promotional materialism until my dying BREATH
“influencer” is just another word for someone who still fears death.
Like, our stance towards exclusionary theology should not be “well actually if we look in the Bible we can see that it never actually forbids being gay,” but instead “how fucking dare you presume to delimit God’s love? What blasphemous arrogance could have possibly led you to where you are? When did you start worshipping your own image in place of the Divine?”
And he looked at the slain, recalling their names. Then suddenly he beheld his sister Éowyn as she lay, and he knew her. He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white; and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.
‘Éowyn, Éowyn!’ he cried at last: ‘Éowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!’ . The Return of the King, J. R. R. Tolkien.
