Yeah, I actually think Lovecraft was doing what was probably the healthiest thing available to him at the time with all his fucked up phobias by turning them into inspiration for spooky stories. He was creative and articulate enough that he could have been writing political screeds and trying to get others on board with driving out all the immigrants, but instead he wrote about crab monsters from space. Far from the worst possible outcome considering a lot of the other possibilities from the time.
Whether or not you should consume HP Lovecraft media despite the fact he was a racist is entirely up to you because he is long dead. He doesn't make any money. He isn't even racist any more. Because he's dead.
I always say "If you're going to be a shitshow of a human being but a talented artist, the least you can do is also be dead."
There's a certain mentality, a little less common now but all over the place in old media, where the very existence of a particular group was the entire joke. Just, "Hey! What if a guy in black face! HAHAHA!"
I made the "mistake" of heavily investing in real estate in Fable 3, so when the time came to choose between "Fund the army to defend against the dark lord" or "Bankrupt the orphanage" I just paid for the whole thing out of pocket and broke the moral dilemma. Oops, I guess?
Hegseth: You there! Jackson! I want plans on how to invade Greenland on my desk by the end of the week!
Johnson: [Looks at filing cabinet full of plans for invading every other country] Oh, yeah, sure thing, sir. Gonna be a few all-nighters, though. Me and the boys are gonna need some pizzas and a few bottles of Mountain Dew and some cinnamon dipperz.
Hegseth: No problem! Just take it out of the Preventing Kids From Being Thrown Into The Orphan Crushing Machine fund! You're a good man Jackson!
Johnson: Sir, yes sir.
Hegseth: [takes enormous swig out of family-sized plastic bottle of bourbon]
It was between June 25 and July 1, 1862 — dates known as the Seven Days Battles — that Willie earned his medal. These battles were part of Union Army Gen. George B. McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign, in which McClellan’s Army of the Potomac had tried to invade the Richmond, Virginia, area. But Confederate States Army Gen. Robert E. Lee’s troops drove them back, forcing the Union Army down the Virginia peninsula.
As the Union soldiers fled, many of them dropped their weapons and other equipment to lighten their loads as they retreated. This included the musicians.
When the troops finally got to safety, Willie was the only drummer in his division to get back with his drum in tow. As the men regrouped, Willie was recognized for that and was asked to play his drum for the whole division.
When President Abraham Lincoln heard about Willie’s bravery, he recommended the boy for the Medal of Honor, which had been created around the time of the Seven Days Battles.
The Tyrannosaurus rex from Jurassic Park because first of all, I'm actually pretty sure I'd be fine so long as I can get in my car and drive away at a reasonable pace. Secondly, just think of the absolutely incredible collateral damage. Even if I get killed, it would be one of the most talked-about and confusing incidents in American history for the rest of time.
We do this at a used book store. It's books that we don't think we can sell inside for whatever reason, and we put them on shelves outside. There's a big awning so they don't really get rained on unless it's raining sideways. We sell them for a dime or a quarter, and there's a slot for overnight drops in case people want to get books at night. Every morning there's at least a couple of bucks from the previous day/night.
We donate the proceeds to public radio, and over the years we've donated over $100,000.