reminder that Winnie the Pooh wore a crop top and ate his fave food and loved himself and u can too
His friends were a pig with anxiety, a donkey with chronic depression, a single mom kangaroo and her kid, a bossy obsessive control-freak rabbit, a tiger with ADHD, and a pompous but dyslexic owl, and he loves them and they love him.
if it interests you, Pooh (whose formal name is Edward Bear) made his first appearance in a poem written in 1924, before A.A. Milne wrote the books. It’s rather sweet – a bouncy little kid’s poem that touches on the importance of representation, societal expectations vs. self confidence, changing fashions (!) and using positive role models. It’s about a teddy bear who worries about whether his body shape is okay, until he meets a handsome king who is fat. The bear decides that he is happy with his body.
You can’t just offhandedly say that Pooh’s real name is Edward Bear
forbidden Pooh lore
Edward Bear is the bear’s formal name – Teddy Bear is his nickname, since Teddy can be short for Edward. Christopher Robin then gave him a second name. He is called Pooh after a swan*, Winnie after an actual historical bear, and “ther” to apparently make it masculine.
Introduction to Winnie-the-Pooh (1926):
If you happen to have read another book about Christopher Robin, you may remember that he once had a swan (or the swan had Christopher Robin, I don’t know which), and that he used to call this swan Pooh. That was a long time ago, and when we said good-bye, we took the name with us, as we didn’t think the swan would want it any more. Well, when Edward Bear said that he would like an exciting name all to himself, Christopher Robin said at once, without stopping to think, that he was Winnie-the-Pooh. And he was. So, as I have explained the Pooh part, I will now explain the rest of it…
“Winnie” comes from the historical bear, above. She was an orphaned female bear from Canada who was brought to England by a Canadian soldier who arrived to fight in World War 1. He named her “Winnipeg” after his home province. Winnipeg moved to the London Zoo, where she was famous and beloved, and Christopher Robin admired her very much as a boy.
Then you put it together, in Chapter 1:
Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn’t. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh.
When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, ‘But I thought he was a boy?’
‘So did I,” said Christopher Robin.
‘Then you can’t call him Winnie?’
‘I don’t.’
‘But you said – ’
“He’s Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don’t you know what “ther” means?”
“Ah, yes, now I do,’ I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get.
don’t you know what “ther” means
and that is why Edward Bear is called Winnie-the-Pooh. And people just don’t question it. It’s just accepted.
* As explained in “When We Were Very Young” : “Christopher Robin, who feeds this swan in the mornings, has given him the name of ‘Pooh.’ This is a very fine name for a swan, because, if you call him and he doesn’t come (which is a thing swans are good at), then you can pretend that you were just saying ‘Pooh!’ to show him how little you wanted him.””
white person: *eats chicken tikka masala once* i just…. i feel so connected… to indian culture …. I’m learning to speak islam…. check out my third eye….. chakra
Every time I see this. Every damn time. I’m immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. “Hit the gong to begin class”, “Namaste, Children”, “I wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle” ass bastard.
“Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions” ass fucker. Mr. “Here’s a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words” asshole. Pretentious-ass, condescending motherfucker.
“Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?”
“I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?”
“No.”
“Then why are you asking”
Every goddamn day. Fuck. “You seem tense.” Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe I ‘seem tense’ because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven-foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli-smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like “a tree……… Is a Poem” and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I’m Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe I don’t wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to “align our auras” or some shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.
I swear to God, if I wanted to sing ‘kumbaya’ with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I’d go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician.
What, I don’t wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I’m the ‘troubled youth’ you need to Robin Williams “O Captain My Captain” your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You’re not “Enlightened”, you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls
Okay but I wanna know what Crazy Dan did to become a disgraced electrician
anyone on these interwebs wanna talk about……… clowns?
Hey d’you want to know why some clowns are scary?
i am definitely apprehensive but sure i would like to know
So I learned to be a clown briefly in grade 7. And here’s the thing, clowning is taking the worst aspects of yourself and amplifying them to the point of hilarity (It’s quite good for self-esteem, actually). But here’s the thing, some people try to make their clown a happy clown when they themselves aren’t a happy person, and that is, technically, lying. And our brains are REALLY REALLY GOOD at detecting lies, so warning bells go off. And therefore we get scared.
TL:DR, the only scary clowns are the ones who are lying.
“the only scary clowns are the ones who are lying” is a mood and im not sure how but it really really is
medusa-avenging-squad 