Erika Moen’s webcomic Oh Joy Sex Toy (NSFW link) has been running for nearly two years. It started off with a bang (PUN INTENDED) and built its audience because of Moen’s straightforward, sex-positive reviews of popular sex toys, as well as Moen’s commitment to drawing characters that represent the full spectrum of gender, race, ability, sexuality, and sexual partnership.
Last year, I interviewed Moen about her success at Boing Boing. As she explained then:
It felt like the Right Project Right Now for me to do as a creator, but I did not predict at all that it would resonate as many people as it has. I’ve been really blown away by the response it’s received. It’s overwhelming and humbling and I feel so goddamn lucky I can’t even believe it.
Now, Moen’s husband and business partner Matthew Nolan has released information about how Oh Joy Sex Toy functions as a business (also probably a NSFW link).
Last Monday, Jack Conte published a piece on Medium titled “Pomplamoose 2014 Tour Profits (Or Lack Thereof),” and a certain section of the internet got very angry.
Handler further apologized and has pledged to match donations to We Need Diverse Books for 24 hours up to $100,000.
This year I graduated law school, took and passed the bar, and was admitted as an attorney in my state. It’s a given that law school itself is expensive. But like a lot of other professional programs, there are also tons of costs when you’re coming out of law school that I didn’t really think about until I had to. Since you have to be licensed in order to work and make that sweet professional salary, there’s no getting around some of them. For lawyers, of course, there’s the bar.
According to an inflation calculator, my $16 twenty years ago has the buying power of $25.70 today, a difference that my eight-year-old self would have viewed with the same reverence, and my current self would have probably turned into laundry quarters.
85% of “working artists” in the U.S. – defined as someone who makes their primary income through art – are non-Hispanic whites.
I like to think I don’t believe in psychics — I don’t! Do I? — but also I am afraid of them in a way that belies my disbelief. I want to say that you can’t be afraid of something you don’t believe in but the brain doesn’t work like that, does it? I’m afraid that psychics are real, or more specifically, I’m afraid that if I get too close, I’ll believe in them against my better judgment. I feel about psychics the way some people feel about that flirty married guy in the office who is exactly your type and you just know you have to stay away from him. I don’t trust myself to not get carried away.
Most women who make it to the C-suite start out in the mailroom.