Carceral feminism is the tendency of self-identified feminists to become credulous to the emancipatory power of the violent apparatus of the state in their efforts to achieve feminist ends like reductions in violence against women. Of course nobody chooses the name “carceral feminist,” any more than people choose the name neoliberal. But in each case, the term aptly fits a destruction political and rhetorical practice. Mistaking a criticism of a tendency for a criticism of a philosophy is particularly damaging because almost nobody actually has a political philosophy. We instead have a collection of tendencies that we then knit together into something resembling a coherent philosophy out of self-protective and egotistical motives. What’s undeniable, in the present moment, is that many people who consider themselves leftists are betraying a breathtaking amount of trust in the police and prosecutors. They are doing so at precisely the same time that they are passionately animated against the police state in Ferguson, in New York City, and elsewhere. Many are capable of holding together these utterly incompatible positions because they don’t have a political philosophy, but rather a set of cultural and social customs that they confuse with a politics. The result is an incoherent denigration of the police state on one hand and the elevation of that same police state to the role of savior on the other.
Freddie deBoer, "Yes, carceral feminism is a thing"
The catcher is, in some strange way, a kind of embodiment of the game. He is the audience, facing the field. He is the umpire, armored in gear and hovering behind the strike zone. He is the sabermetrician, an adept of game theory, constantly calculating (unconsciously or not) risk and probability. He is the manager on the field, directing pitchers and sometimes defenses, making visits to the mound. And in his small rhythms, habits, and actions, he is the game itself — the sudden and violent movement, the still and quiet grace. There’s a phrase you sometimes hear about a catcher: the feel for the flow of the game. Here’s where the game’s mystery and mastery begin.
Louisa Thomas, "To Give and to Receive"
The specific frustration with cinematic universes, however, is that they could—and should—be stylistically discrete, but they all have to look the same anyway. Even the most accomplished Marvel efforts of late, like Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Guardians Of The Galaxy, have a homogenized gloss that suggests Cap and Star-Lord could cross paths in either movie without viewers feeling jarred by the clash in style. Not that the handheld camerawork in Hancock is a model anyone should feel inclined to follow, but the menu of options shrinks substantially when filmmakers have to work toward some great team-up like The Avengers at the end of the line. The only place where they can make a big difference is in the writing and storytelling, which happens to be where The Winter Soldier, The Avengers, and Guardians Of The Galaxy are most accomplished. They turn a director’s medium into a writer’s medium. They’re great television, in other words.
Scott Tobias, "The Case Against Cinematic Universes"