After tonight’s #BB28 eviction, there are seven left, and my rankings are now Barrett, Taylor, Melody, Drew, Devens, Yash, and Dee. this… Read more →
after tonight’s eviction, we are officially down to seven, which means i can no longer pretend these rankings are provisional in any meaningful way. they are still emotional, reactive, occasionally petty, and almost certainly going to age badly, but at least there are fewer people to be wrong about now.
as always, this is not a power ranking. this is a deeply scientific measurement of who is currently contributing the most to my enjoyment of #BB28.
1
Barrett
somewhere between “i Might like him” and now, this apparently became a full investment. not necessarily the cleanest path through the game, but consistently one of the people i actually want to watch do things.
2
Taylor
an absolutely wild climb from my early-season “she’s fine, probably?” position. she has somehow become one of the people i most trust to make the room she’s in more interesting.
3
Melody
from “still not clear on who this is” to third place is, frankly, the kind of character arc i appreciate. she has had one of the better late-season rises for me.
4
Drew
still irritatingly likable. i have spent basically the entire season waiting for that to stop being true, and here we are at seven.
5
Devens
still good vibes, still solid television, still occupying a strange lane where i enjoy him without ever becoming fully Devens-pilled.
6
Yash
i have, against all odds, moved beyond the haircut note. character development for both of us.
7
Dee
the funniest possible endpoint after starting the season at number one. i do not dislike her, exactly. i have simply reached the point where everyone else left is currently giving me more.
so that’s the seven. Barrett at the top, Dee at the bottom, and a truly irresponsible amount of room for this to change before i have even finished emotionally processing tonight’s episode.
a joke about yard-work simulators became an unfortunately complete survey of gaming’s most specific genre, just before the free prologue arrives. Read more →
i reposted this because it is, technically, a joke, and also, technically, an accurate status report on where the simulator genre currently stands.
The Simpsons predicted that we would have Yard Work Simulators, but they didn’t predict that we would go Beyond Yard Work Simulators.
Beyond Yardwork Simulator is a real, upcoming Steam game from developer JoyDev and publisher PlayWay, a studio whose back catalog reads less like a release slate and more like a to-do list nobody ever crossed items off of. you mow, pressure-wash, weed, and sort trash in exchange for cash you then spend renovating your own house, one increasingly specific chore at a time, per the official Steam page.
a free prologue covering the first three jobs arrives Sep 9, per the Prologue’s Steam listing. the full game does not have a date beyond “2026,” which, generously, leaves PlayWay all the runway it needs to eventually announce Beyond Beyond Yardwork Simulator.
Screenshot: Beyond Yardwork Simulator, via Steam; used for commentary.
i say all of this as someone who has spent measurable years of my one life running a digital farm in Story of Seasons and Harvest Moon without once, personally, touching a lawnmower that exists in three dimensions. Beyond Yardwork Simulator is aimed at exactly my demographic: people who will lovingly manage a fictional flower bed for forty hours and describe an actual flower bed as not my problem. the genre understands its audience. it is not judging me. it is, at most, gently billing me two thousand imaginary dollars per job.
and it is a genre, not a one-off bit. Beyond Yardwork Simulator is arriving into a field that already has Lawn Mowing Simulator, whose real sequel, Lawn Mowing Simulator 2, lands Sep 23 with licensed Kubota, SCAG, and STIGA equipment, per its own Steam page. PC Gamer, surveying the field, noted there is also a separate game called Lawn Care Simulator, and that it exists twice, which the outlet delivered with exactly the tired disbelief the situation deserves, per PC Gamer’s coverage.
Screenshot: Beyond Yardwork Simulator, via Steam; used for commentary.
somewhere there was a pitch meeting that ended with the sentence “we have done the yard, now let us transcend it,” and somebody funded it, and here we are, well over a thousand likes into a joke about the Simpsons being insufficiently prescient. i will be downloading the free prologue the day it exists, not because my actual yard needs anything, but because it does not have one to need anything about, and that, per the entire thesis of the genre, is exactly the point.
about twenty minutes into Untold: Raygun — Breaking Badly, i posted that the documentary was teetering on the edge between documentary and… Read more →
about twenty minutes into Untold: Raygun — Breaking Badly, i posted that the documentary was teetering on the edge between documentary and mockumentary despite being 1000% earnest. this is still the most accurate review i can offer. the movie is not making fun of Rachael Gunn. the movie would be horrified to learn that laughter has entered the building.
watching the raygun documentary and it's teetering on the edge of mockumentary and documentary even though it's definitely 1000% earnest
Netflix has assembled all the customary prestige-documentary furniture: low lighting, slow-motion rehearsal footage, a carefully wounded score, and interviews framed as if somebody is about to reveal where the bodies are buried. then Raygun explains that her Olympic routine was a radical expression of creativity, and the film presents the kangaroo hop with the solemnity of the Zapruder film.
nobody involved appears to understand why this feels funny. this makes it much funnier.
the documentary wants a hero’s journey; the footage keeps requesting a wellness check
Breaking Badly, released on Netflix on September 1, reconstructs Gunn’s path from Australian academic to Olympic breaker to the internet’s designated main character for several exhausting weeks in 2024. the broad facts are strange enough without enhancement. she qualified for the first Olympic breaking competition, lost every battle without receiving a judge’s vote, became globally recognizable for several unconventional moves, and then watched the usual machinery convert public bewilderment into conspiracies, abuse, and mythology.
some of that mythology was plainly false. the Australian Olympic Committee rejected claims that Gunn or her husband manipulated the qualifying process, and the misogynistic intensity of the pile-on was grotesque. “that performance was not Olympic caliber” and “this woman secretly rigged an international sporting body” are different statements. the internet placed them in a blender because nuance has never driven engagement quite as efficiently as accusing a stranger of organized dance fraud.
Rachael Gunn competes in breaking at the Paris 2024 Olympics. Photo: Elsa/Getty Images, via KQED; used for commentary.
the documentary is strongest when it deals with that aftermath. becoming a meme means millions of people inherit a tiny, flattened version of you, and they are all permitted to improvise. Gunn was mocked, impersonated, lied about, and treated as a public resource. no reasonable person deserves that. unfortunately, the film seems to believe acknowledging the cruelty requires us to stop noticing anything else.
sympathy and criticism are allowed to share a studio apartment
this is where the accidental mockumentary starts producing its own lighting. Breaking Badly repeatedly treats the choices as “Raygun was a misunderstood visionary” or “Raygun deserved the abuse.” i decline both packages. she did not deserve harassment, threats, invented scandals, or a permanent lease inside everybody’s worst joke. she also gave a strikingly poor performance on the largest possible stage and became the most visible representative of an art form whose actual best practitioners were standing several feet away.
The Guardian’s review identifies the question the film keeps circling without touching: what does it mean that a dorky white academic became the global face of a Black and brown art form while breakers with far greater technical skill remained comparatively anonymous? Netflix is very interested in whether Raygun belongs. it is much less interested in who disappears when the camera answers yes.
Logistx and Raygun during the women’s breaking round robin in Paris. Photo: Frank Franklin II/AP, via Deseret News; used for commentary.
Gunn’s stated emphasis on originality over technical precision is not inherently ridiculous. art needs people willing to look strange. i run a personal blog in 2026; clearly i am not opposed to performing outside the market-tested definition of dignity. but originality is not a coupon that waives execution, context, or criticism. sometimes the brave new thing does not work. sometimes all three judges agree.
Netflix keeps sanding away the thing that made the story interesting
the most revealing version of the Raygun story is messy: a committed but limited competitor reached the Olympics through a legitimate, underdeveloped qualification system; her unusual routine became funny out of context and not entirely unfunny within it; the world responded with criticism, misogyny, conspiracies, and disproportionate cruelty; and the resulting fame elevated her above the breaking culture she sincerely admired. no single person is required to be villain, victim, fraud, and folk hero at all times.
ABC’s review describes an unprepared athlete overwhelmed by the scale of the Olympics. that is more human, and more interesting, than the polished resilience product Netflix is trying to sell. unprepared people wander into important rooms every day. most of us simply have the courtesy to do it at work, where the footage belongs to Microsoft Teams and will die unseen.
instead, Breaking Badly keeps arranging the story into inspirational poses. the score swells. a lesson approaches. Raygun talks about authenticity. somewhere, a documentarian gently lowers a fog machine. the film is so committed to restoring her dignity that it accidentally removes her complexity, which feels like another form of turning a person into a meme, only this one has tasteful color grading.
watch the trailer and observe the seriousness entering the room
i am glad Gunn got to tell her side of the story. i am also fascinated by a documentary that believes telling her side means every uncomfortable contradiction must be escorted off the premises. the result is earnest enough to demand respect, strange enough to generate laughter, and controlled enough that the laughter becomes the most honest audience response available.
it is not a mockumentary. it just keeps stepping on the same rake with excellent production values.
there are celebrity birthdays, and then there are holidays with choreography. September 4 belongs in the second category. you do not need decorations. you do not need a themed cocktail. you need the extended mix, enough floor space to make one or two irresponsible choices, and the willingness to follow instructions delivered at club volume.
this year the observance is unusually tidy: Beyoncé turned 45 on September 4, 2026, while B’Day turned 20. the album was released on her 25th birthday, because even in 2006 Beyoncé understood that the cleanest way to receive a present is to give everybody else homework.
Beyoncé on the Formation World Tour, May 16, 2016. Photo by Kevin Edwards, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
the extended mix is not optional
the regular album version of “Get Me Bodied” is very good. this is not its day.
the extended mix is the version that turns the song from a single into a municipal event. it keeps finding more song after a normal song would have politely gone home. Beyoncé calls out moves, the room becomes a line dance with better posture, and Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams, and Solange appear in the video like the world’s most overqualified birthday committee.
six minutes is exactly the correct length because the point is not efficiency. the point is escalation. “Get Me Bodied” begins as a request and ends as a small government with mandatory physical education.
Beyoncé’s official “Get Me Bodied (Extended Mix)” video, featuring Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams, and Solange.
it is also a nearly perfect summary of B’Day: urgent, percussive, slightly bossy, and entirely uninterested in behaving like background music. the album sounds as though every instrument has been told there are only ten minutes left before the venue charges overtime. even the slower moments feel like somebody is about to kick open a door.
twenty years later, the album is still yelling correctly
the 20th anniversary arrived with a new 31-track deluxe edition, including previously unreleased material and several versions of “Get Me Bodied.” People reported the release on September 4, along with Tina Knowles’s birthday tribute to her daughter. it is a very Beyoncé solution to an anniversary: do not merely remaster the old thing; make the old thing expand until it requires its own filing system.
Beyoncé performing in Vancouver during the I Am Tour. Photo by Jenn Lowther, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons; cropped and brightness adjusted by J.ébey.
anniversary editions can feel like archival housekeeping: here are the demos, here is the booklet, please purchase the object again in a slightly more rectangular box. B’Day does not really lend itself to tasteful archival distance. the album is still too sweaty. “Déjà Vu” still arrives already in motion. “Ring the Alarm” still sounds like the alarm has developed a personal grievance. “Upgrade U” remains a performance review delivered over horns.
and “Get Me Bodied” still works because it never pretends dancing is spontaneous. it gives you the instructions. pat your weave. tick. fight the feeling. tick. do the Naomi Campbell walk. the song knows that sometimes freedom requires a checklist.
so, happy Beyoncé day. if you listened to the short version, the holiday board has reviewed your paperwork and found it incomplete. please report to the extended mix, where attendance will be taken by name, birthday, and ability to drop down low and sweep the floor with it.
professional wrestling is at its best when the entire story can be explained to a child in one sentence and the child… Read more →
professional wrestling is at its best when the entire story can be explained to a child in one sentence and the child is already furious before you finish.
this clip from the May 17, 2024 SmackDown is eleven seconds long. Nia Jax walks over to Jade Cargill’s daughter, Bailey, and tells her that her mom sucks. Bailey objects, correctly. Jade gets off the floor and superkicks Nia. we have a villain, a victim, a personal stake, a comeback, and a cathartic act of violence. prestige television has spent eight episodes accomplishing less.
Nia Jax tells Bailey that her mom sucks; Jade Cargill responds. WWE SmackDown, May 17, 2024, preserved via ruinedchildhood on Tumblr; used for commentary.
the barricade is not a wall
the thing I love is that Bailey does not look like a performer who has been inserted into an angle. she looks like a kid who has just received inaccurate information about her mother and would like the record corrected immediately. Nia understands the assignment, because the assignment is being mean enough to make a child hate you without making the child actually afraid of you.
Reaction post preserved in the originating Tumblr reblog; used for commentary.
wrestling crowds are not audiences in the normal sense. the barricade separates them from the match physically, but the whole art form depends on pretending it does not separate them narratively. people boo, chant, argue with referees, warn wrestlers about someone sneaking up behind them, and occasionally discover that their mother is now part of the show.
most entertainment asks you to sit quietly while trained professionals manufacture a feeling. wrestling gives you a folding chair, sells you a foam finger, and asks you to help. the audience is the laugh track, the Greek chorus, the focus group, and, on the right night, an unpaid supporting cast with excellent seats.
your mom’s enemy has been superkicked
Reaction post preserved in the originating Tumblr reblog; used for commentary.
the reply calling this a top-five moment in Bailey’s life is probably right. children rarely get such clean emotional bookkeeping. somebody insults your mom, your mom stands up, and that person is immediately kicked in the face while several thousand people cheer. there is no waiting for HR, no carefully worded group text, and no six-month process of realizing that the best revenge is living well. the revenge is a superkick. it arrives before the sentence has fully cleared the air.
Jade was disqualified from the Queen of the Ring match, which is also perfect. the rules say she lost. every other available form of human judgment says she won. the tournament continued, Nia eventually became Queen of the Ring, and Bailey got permanent evidence that her mother will abandon a bracket to defend her honor.
this is why I keep coming back to wrestling even when the booking is nonsense and the weekly shows are approximately nine hours long. occasionally, the enormous corporate production machine stumbles into something so small, legible, and human that it becomes the whole point: a heel says “your mom sucks,” a kid says “no,” and mom handles it.
the match and ringside confrontation took place during Jade Cargill vs. Nia Jax in the Queen of the Ring quarterfinal on WWE SmackDown, May 17, 2024. FOX Sports has the match highlight.
some fandoms are things you enjoy. others quietly become part of the structure holding every version of you together. Read more →
I reposted a Bluesky post tonight that said, “X-Men has been the most consistent interest in my life.” It is a very efficient sentence. Nine words, and suddenly I am thinking about the strange little handful of interests that stop being things you like and become part of the load-bearing structure of your personality.
X-Men has been the most consistent interest in my life.
The X-Men are unusually good at becoming that kind of interest. They are less a single story than a municipal transit system: enormous, occasionally unreliable, redesigned every few years, and somehow still able to take you back to the same place.
continuity is not the point
Trying to explain X-Men continuity is how normal conversations become hostage situations. There are alternate timelines, cloned people, cloned people who did not initially know they were clones, children who are older than their parents, deaths that function more like extended vacations, and at least one island that is also a person. The official history is technically knowable, in the same sense that the tax code is technically knowable.
But continuity is not really what keeps people around. The return is. You can disappear for five years, come back through a cartoon, a movie, a comic run, or one extremely specific Tumblr gifset, and the essential machinery is still there. A group of people has been told that something fundamental about them makes them dangerous. They respond by building a home together, putting on coordinated outfits, and developing interpersonal problems of almost military complexity.
That premise travels. It can be a civil-rights allegory, a queer text, a family drama, a workplace comedy in which the workplace keeps exploding, or an excuse for Wolverine to stand in a forest looking like someone has interrupted the worst cigarette break of his life. Sometimes it is all five before lunch.
the story changes when you do
The durable childhood interests are rarely the ones that remain frozen. Usually, they survive because you keep discovering a different entrance.
When you are young, the X-Men can be about powers, costumes, giant robots, and the objectively correct belief that Storm is the coolest person in any room. Later, the same stories start looking like arguments about respectability, chosen family, assimilation, political exhaustion, and what people owe a society that keeps announcing its intention to destroy them.
As a gay person, none of that requires particularly strenuous decoding. The franchise has never mapped neatly onto one real minority experience, and it gets clumsy whenever it tries to behave as though it does. Still, the emotional grammar is familiar: disclosure as risk, family as something you may have to assemble yourself, public acceptance that vanishes the second people become frightened, and the endless demand that the marginalized person remain calm enough to deserve survival.
You can meet that story before you have language for yourself, then return after you do. The characters have not necessarily become more sophisticated. You have. They were simply patient enough to wait.
Long-running fiction accumulates versions of its audience along with versions of its characters. A particular theme song stores the room where you first heard it. A costume design stores the age when you decided someone looked impossibly cool. A revival stores the slightly unsettling discovery that your childhood is now an intellectual property strategy.
X-Men ’97 understood this better than most nostalgia projects. It did not merely put the old action figures back on the shelf and wait for applause. It returned to the visual and emotional vocabulary people remembered, then allowed time to have happened. The result felt familiar without pretending familiarity was sufficient. This is apparently a radical concept in franchise management.
Marvel Animation’s official X-Men ’97 trailer.
That matters because consistency does not mean consuming every issue, seeing every movie opening weekend, or maintaining a working knowledge of which body Professor Xavier currently occupies. There are years when an interest is central, and years when it sits quietly in the background. It still becomes a way of keeping track of yourself.
I think that is what made the skeet land. “Most consistent” does not mean unchanged. It means the thing kept finding a version of you who could use it.
the things that stay are allowed to be messy
A lifelong fandom is not an endorsement of every choice made under its logo. God knows the X-Men have supplied enough bad movies, baffling retcons, aborted metaphors, and stories where nobody appears to have asked whether women should be allowed one uninterrupted afternoon.
The affection survives because it is bigger than approval. You can love the basic proposition, argue with its execution, ignore an era entirely, and come back when somebody remembers why the whole thing worked. That is a healthier relationship to culture than the modern demand that everything you enjoy also function as a flawless public statement about your moral character.
Some interests are favorites. Some are phases. A few become personal infrastructure: not always visible, not always fashionable, but still quietly holding up part of the building.
The X-Men are especially suited to that job. Reinvention is already built into the premise. The roster changes, the school relocates, the dead return, the future becomes terrible in a slightly different way, and everyone tries again.
Honestly, there are worse things to carry forward.
