From Salon.com, There is hard data that shows "Bernie Bros" are a myth:

People responding to hundreds of millions of people online tend to dehumanize others.

They remember that someone is female/male or follows some candidate or is of some race, but they frequently don't pay attention to differentiate actions of one member of that group versus another. So rather than consider how frequently an individual of some group acts, they think of how frequently the group acts as a whole. If they interact with many more members of one group than another, that perception of the group is magnified by the number of members they see.

"Bernie followers act pretty much the same on Twitter as any other follower," Winchell says of his results. "There is one key difference that Twitter users and media don't seem to be aware of.... Bernie has a lot more Twitter followers than Twitter followers of other Democrat's campaigns," he added, noting that this may be partly what helps perpetuate the myth.

I downloaded all the followers of the Twitter accounts of the nine most popular Democratic presidential candidates and the president ([around] 100 million Twitter accounts). I then randomly chose followers from them and downloaded all their tweets from 2015 to the present. I have run two different sentiment analysis algorithms on these tweets. So far, nearly 6.8 million tweets from 280,000 Twitter accounts have been analyzed out of the 100 million-plus tweets I currently have downloaded (I continue downloading more).

The chance that some tweet is negative when it comes from a follower of candidate X is pretty much the same as if it came from a follower of candidate Y. [...] Bernie followers act pretty much the same on Twitter as any other follower. There is one key difference that Twitter users and media don't seem to be aware of. Bernie has a lot more Twitter followers than Twitter followers of other Democrat's campaigns.

To summarize my conclusions: First, there is a general tendency for online behavior to be negative, known as the online disinhibition effect — but it affects all people equally, not merely Sanders' supporters. Second, pundits systematically ignore when other candidates' supporters are mean online, perhaps because of the aforementioned established stereotype; in this sense, the Bernie Bro is not dissimilar from other political canards like the "welfare queen." Third, Twitter is not a representative sample size of the population, and is so prone to harboring propaganda outfits and bots such that it is not a reliable way of gauging public opinion.

"The idea that Sanders' supporters are somehow uniquely cruel, despite Sanders' platform and policy proposal being the most humane of all the candidates"

...is a pretty important phrase to reflect on!

Foxy Shazam was one of the best live bands I've ever seen. They broke up in 2014, but have scheduled a show for next month. Jeezus CHRIST could I use some more of their chaotic power

From this essay about Mister Rogers:

Once upon a time, a little boy with a big sword went into battle against Mister Rogers. Or maybe, if the truth be told, Mister Rogers went into battle against a little boy with a big sword, for Mister Rogers didn't like the big sword. It was one of those swords that really isn't a sword at all; it was a big plastic contraption with lights and sound effects, and it was the kind of sword used in defense of the universe by the heroes of the television shows that the little boy liked to watch. The little boy with the big sword did not watch Mister Rogers. In fact, the little boy with the big sword didn't know who Mister Rogers was, and so when Mister Rogers knelt down in front of him, the little boy with the big sword looked past him and through him, and when Mister Rogers said, "Oh, my, that's a big sword you have," the boy didn't answer, and finally his mother got embarrassed and said, "Oh, honey, c'mon, that's Mister Rogers," and felt his head for fever. Of course, she knew who Mister Rogers was, because she had grown up with him, and she knew that he was good for her son, and so now, with her little boy zombie-eyed under his blond bangs, she apologized, saying to Mister Rogers that she knew he was in a rush and that she knew he was here in Penn Station taping his program and that her son usually wasn't like this, he was probably just tired…. Except that Mister Rogers wasn't going anywhere. Yes, sure, he was taping, and right there, in Penn Station in New York City, were rings of other children wiggling in wait for him, but right now his patient gray eyes were fixed on the little boy with the big sword, and so he stayed there, on one knee, until the little boy's eyes finally focused on Mister Rogers, and he said, "It's not a sword; it's a death ray." A death ray! Oh, honey, Mommy knew you could do it….And so now, encouraged, Mommy said, "Do you want to give Mister Rogers a hug, honey?" But the boy was shaking his head no, and Mister Rogers was sneaking his face past the big sword and the armor of the little boy's eyes and whispering something in his ear—something that, while not changing his mind about the hug, made the little boy look at Mister Rogers in a new way, with the eyes of a child at last, and nod his head yes.

We were heading back to his apartment in a taxi when I asked him what he had said.

"Oh, I just knew that whenever you see a little boy carrying something like that, it means that he wants to show people that he's strong on the outside. I just wanted to let him know that he was strong on the inside, too. And so that's what I told him. I said, 'Do you know that you're strong on the inside, too?' Maybe it was something he needed to hear."

and

And even now, when he is producing only three weeks' worth of new programs a year, he still winds up agonizing—agonizing—about whether to announce his theme as "Little and Big" or "Big and Little" and still makes only two edits per televised minute, because he doesn't want his message to be determined by the cuts and splices in a piece of tape—to become, despite all his fierce coherence, "a message of fragmentation."

I’m conflicted about the complete piece — it’s about a deeply-religious man, but maybe religious in the best possible way? — but I’m lying here in the middle of the night, worried about people getting sick and dying all over the world, feeling a tickle in my own chest that could be pollen or could be a virus… and I’m comforted by remembering Mister Rogers’ presence in my own childhood. Remembering the tender, joyful child I could be, and how encouraging Mister Rogers was of tenderness and joy. How hard I fought to maintain those traits against the slipping gravel of growing up in a calloused culture. How readily I embraced the messages of fragmentation, and how much work it is now to experience a true window of peace and quiet within myself. How much distance opened between my adult self and my child self, even though I loved the child I was — and how much of that child I still am.

It’s nice to read about someone who held their ground in such a particular way, with the apparent goal of simply manifesting peace and love in the world. I’d like to find more of that feeling and desire in myself. I can remember where it used to sit, in my chest, like a candle, or a bird.

Do you know that you're strong on the inside, too?

I often hear this opening drumbeat when I need to muster strength.

This album isn't nearly as good, but Ben's always been pretty good at plain-spoken melodic depression.

I've been thinking recently about how I feel like "I used to be such a sentimental guy." And the absence of feeling, sometimes, about things I used to really feel strongly about. Maybe it's depression; maybe it's the medicine for the depression. Maybe it's "getting older." Maybe it's our acid bath culture deadening the senses and paving over the space where the dandelions of sentimentality would've poked out. Maybe I'm just... changing.

But then I go look at some Muppets, and I feel a torrent of admiration and appreciation — of sentimentality. With someone I like a lot. To a great new movie — Knives Out — directed by someone whose movies I've really enjoyed seeing recently. Walk around outside on a nice, crisp day. Think maybe the problem is complicated, but that it isn't just that I'm incapable of certain feelings. That maybe, for better or worse, I haven't been in spaces where I could feel them readily. And that wherever I can find them — I have to follow. Sometimes the past brings forth warmth — if you look at the things you loved, rather than the parts that turned bitter and twisted. And then there are glimmers in the present, gold flecks in the cool, clear water, and you have to roll up your pant legs to take a closer look.

But I never thought so much... could change.

I carried a stuffed Ernie with me everywhere when I was a little kid; I don't remember exactly why, but I still feel the simple warmth of childhood affection. I don't think I saw myself as Bert; I think I wanted to be like Ernie. Simple, playful, sweet. So I got myself a little Ernie from the gift shop, and I'm gonna carry my little buddy with me for a little bit. It feels silly, and also good — so I don't have to explain it to myself any more than that.

I love the way this album sounds. Incredible, heavy piano tone. Great songs.

THIS SONG FUCKING STOMPS

LISTEN TO THAT BASS

FUCK! THE JULIANA THEORY WERE SO GOOD!!!!!