Hello, Tailor

Posts tagged punk

143 notes &

postcardsfromspace:

empressregnant:

30 Shades of Fuchsia

It took me three hours but I finally made a spectrum consisting of practically every different colour Quentin’s hair has ever been

I’m going to go lie down and think about my choices in life

I hope you’re happy in the life you’re chosen for yourself.

well done well done

Filed under quentin quire pink punk hair

5,083 notes &

In August of 1990 I found myself laying on my stomach in the woods with a pair of binoculars, a bottle of Canadian Club, and my friend Kurt Cobain. The reason why I had the binoculars was because I was the lookout while he ran across the street to a “teen pregnancy center” that had just opened in our town. It really wasn’t a teen pregnancy center, it was a right-wing con where they got teenage girls to go in there and then told them they were going to go to hell if they had abortions. Since Kurt and I were angry young feminists in the ’90s we decided that we were going to do a little public service that night. We drank our Canadian Club and he watched out while I went across the street and wrote, “Fake abortion clinic, everyone,” because I was kind of like the pragmatic one or whatever. He was more creative so he went over and in six-foot-tall red letters he wrote, “God is gay.” [applause]
Kathleen Hanna, Our Hit Parade (via colporteur)

(Source: aliveforalittlewhile, via waxjism)

Filed under feminism celebrities punk graffiti

10,285 notes &

youaintpunk: The riots also offered a glimpse into how photographs can be used out of context: ‘Sir: In last week’s article about the poll-tax riot in Trafalgar Square (‘THE MOB’S BRIEF RULE’, 7 April) there is a large photograph labelled ‘A West End shopper argues with a protester’. The woman in the photograph is me, and I thought you might like to know the true story behind the picture. I was on my way to the theatre, with my husband. As we walked down Regent Street at about 6.30pm, the windows were intact and there was a large, cheerful, noisy group of poll-tax protesters walking up from Piccadilly Circus. We saw ordinary uniformed police walking alongside, on the pavement, keeping a low profile. The atmosphere was changed dramatically in moments when a fast-walking, threatening group of riot-squad police appeared. We walked on to the top of Haymarket, where the atmosphere was more tense and more protesters were streaming up Haymarket from the Trafalgar Square end. Suddenly a group of mounted police charged at full gallop into the rear of the group of protesters, scattering them, passers-by and us and creating panic. People screamed and some fell. Next to me and my husband another group of riot-squad appeared, in a most intimidating manner. The next thing that happened is what horrified me most. Four of the riot-squad police grabbed a young girl of 18 or 19 for no reason and forced her in a brutal manner on to the crowd-control railings, with her throat across the top of the railings. Her young male companion was frantically trying to reach her and was being held back by one riot-squad policeman. In your photograph I was urging the boy to calm down or he might be arrested; he was telling me that the person being held down across the railings was his girlfriend. My husband remonstrated with the riot-squad policeman holding the boy, and I shouted at the four riot-squad men to let the girl go as they were obviously hurting her. To my surprise, they did let her go – it was almost as if they did not know what they were doing. The riot-squad policemen involved in this incident were not wearing any form of identification. Their epaulettes were unbuttoned and flapping loose; I lifted them on two men and neither had any numbers on. There was a sergeant with them, who was numbered and my husband asked why his men wore no identifying numbers. The sergeant replied that it did not matter as he knew who the men were. We are a middle-aged suburban couple who now feel more intimidated by the Metropolitan police than by a mob. If we feel so angry, how on earth did the young hot-heads at the rally feel?’ Mrs R.A. Sare, Northwood, Middlessex Source

youaintpunk:

The riots also offered a glimpse into how photographs can be used out of context:

‘Sir: In last week’s article about the poll-tax riot in Trafalgar Square (‘THE MOB’S BRIEF RULE’, 7 April) there is a large photograph labelled ‘A West End shopper argues with a protester’. The woman in the photograph is me, and I thought you might like to know the true story behind the picture.

I was on my way to the theatre, with my husband. As we walked down Regent Street at about 6.30pm, the windows were intact and there was a large, cheerful, noisy group of poll-tax protesters walking up from Piccadilly Circus. We saw ordinary uniformed police walking alongside, on the pavement, keeping a low profile. The atmosphere was changed dramatically in moments when a fast-walking, threatening group of riot-squad police appeared.

We walked on to the top of Haymarket, where the atmosphere was more tense and more protesters were streaming up Haymarket from the Trafalgar Square end. Suddenly a group of mounted police charged at full gallop into the rear of the group of protesters, scattering them, passers-by and us and creating panic. People screamed and some fell. Next to me and my husband another group of riot-squad appeared, in a most intimidating manner.

The next thing that happened is what horrified me most. Four of the riot-squad police grabbed a young girl of 18 or 19 for no reason and forced her in a brutal manner on to the crowd-control railings, with her throat across the top of the railings. Her young male companion was frantically trying to reach her and was being held back by one riot-squad policeman. In your photograph I was urging the boy to calm down or he might be arrested; he was telling me that the person being held down across the railings was his girlfriend.

My husband remonstrated with the riot-squad policeman holding the boy, and I shouted at the four riot-squad men to let the girl go as they were obviously hurting her. To my surprise, they did let her go – it was almost as if they did not know what they were doing.

The riot-squad policemen involved in this incident were not wearing any form of identification. Their epaulettes were unbuttoned and flapping loose; I lifted them on two men and neither had any numbers on. There was a sergeant with them, who was numbered and my husband asked why his men wore no identifying numbers. The sergeant replied that it did not matter as he knew who the men were. We are a middle-aged suburban couple who now feel more intimidated by the Metropolitan police than by a mob. If we feel so angry, how on earth did the young hot-heads at the rally feel?’

Mrs R.A. Sare, Northwood, Middlessex Source

(via typhonatemybaby)

Filed under police cops britain politics punk

390,801 notes &

waxjism: quiet000001: mine-de-rien: gigantorthemooseking: I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’t remember the band, she dragged me along) when I was 16. They were starting a wall of death and this guy who was flirting with me decides it would be funny to pull my top down, exposing my breasts, then throw me in the middle of this wall of death right as it’s about to meet. When I stumble in the middle and hit the wall someone screamed “STOP! EXPOSED GIRL!” and I thought they were all going to oggle at me. Instead, one guy quickly helped me cover up, three more helped me to my feet, and another asked who did that. When I pointed out the guy, two of them looked at him, me, each other, then nodded and punched the guy in the face before forcing him into the wall that was about to form again. Metal men are gentlemenly as shit. I have also found this to be generally true; as well, they tend to give really good hugs. Yup, this matches my experience also. The Tuska Open Air Metal Festival is the biggest metal fest in Finland, and it’s year after year the least violent festival—way after more pop-oriented shindigs. Tango Markkinat probably has more fist fights.

waxjism:

quiet000001:

mine-de-rien:

gigantorthemooseking:

I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’t remember the band, she dragged me along) when I was 16. They were starting a wall of death and this guy who was flirting with me decides it would be funny to pull my top down, exposing my breasts, then throw me in the middle of this wall of death right as it’s about to meet. When I stumble in the middle and hit the wall someone screamed “STOP! EXPOSED GIRL!” and I thought they were all going to oggle at me. Instead, one guy quickly helped me cover up, three more helped me to my feet, and another asked who did that. When I pointed out the guy, two of them looked at him, me, each other, then nodded and punched the guy in the face before forcing him into the wall that was about to form again.

Metal men are gentlemenly as shit.

I have also found this to be generally true; as well, they tend to give really good hugs.

Yup, this matches my experience also.

The Tuska Open Air Metal Festival is the biggest metal fest in Finland, and it’s year after year the least violent festival—way after more pop-oriented shindigs. Tango Markkinat probably has more fist fights.

(Source: psihoticno-sarkasticna)

Filed under punk goth metal

98 notes &

copperbadge:

Quentin Quire T-Shirt Appreciation Post 2/2

If it’s true that Quentin makes his own shirts with a red marker, it’s a charming sign of his secret crush on respect for Captain America that, while he was helping Cap out, the lettering on his shirts (the first two on the bottom row) improved markedly.

[From Wolverine And The X-Men #1-24 and A + X #4, 2011-2013.]

“MAGNETO, HOW’S HE WORK?”

Filed under quentin quire x-men punk