Friday, January 10, 2014

ff

in honour of me finally getting around to getting the rookie yearbook two, rookie rookie rookie day! holy damn, i love this mag so hard it is dumb. so good, always, that it just explodes my insides with hope and joy and gladness.

and it is not hard, this week especially, to proclaim the greatness of rookie thanks to a brilliant little piece by hazel cills in which she mic drops and then gives you the best stare down of all time and everyone everywhere goes bananas cuz HAZEL RULEZ!!! check it.

'[on]...The Atlantic’s website, Jake Flanagin took a look at a work of over-the-top campy fiction [Ja’mie: Private School Girl] and posed, in all apparent sincerity, this question (about real people!): “Why are young women turning into monsters?” I repeat: monsters. Ooh, scary! I’m sure we’re a big threat to straight white men who write for magazines like The Atlantic, what with all our dangerous selfies and Snapchats and sexts. The article went on to wonder whether the average viewer was smart enough to tell that the show is satire: “Presumably, Lilley poses this array of amusing insecurities and prejudices as a critical device, not face-value comedy,” Flanagin sniffed. “But it’s difficult to say whether the audience can discern the difference.”

As a member of that audience and a teenage girl (aka future monster), I’d like to ease his fears, at least on that last point: Teenage girls know that Ja’mie: Private School Girl is satire; it’s by Chris Lilley, for god’s sake. Have you ever met a teenage girl, Jake? We don’t act like Ja’mie. Just like how you, a guy in his 20s, don’t act like Van Wilder. 
Or so I assume (insert a thousand winks here).'


yes. seriously. yes yes, thank you. the rookie writers are consistently witty, smart, funny, bold, cool, and a zillion other great things. if i were a middle-aged man who worked in the journalism world i'd be scared shitless of rookie. they are the future, folks. and the future looks hella good.

i'm gonna go dance in my apartment after filling it with black balloons. peace out, internets! 
and happy friday, teenagers.

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