Kinda Cute, kinda cringe @ashlynflagg - Tumblr Blog

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resident-idiot-simp

r2x2

The Amnesty International report that JK Rowling is trying to censor through legal threats.

It can also be found on Google Drive here and on Bluesky here.

cbarc

Please save and share this info where possible. This report has since been removed by Amnesty International due to legal threats of libel from JK Rowling. This information is no longer easily accessible.

Rambunctious

puppy on head idiot

puppy on head idiot

I watched some videos by that guy who set up a fake ICE hotline to get people to snitch on members of their community. Not only is this very real and useful praxis- he's preventing these ghouls from reaching the real ICE- he also handles the calls in a really amazing way.

For the most part, he doesn't make accusations or insults people, he just repeats back the appalling shit they're telling him. And they get fucking furious. The example that went viral was him fielding a call from a kindergarten teacher who wanted to report one of her student's parents.

This absolutely disgusting piece of shit thought that the parents were "illegals" who were "taking up resources" because they weren't born in the US. The child was a US citizen because he was born here, but she wanted the "ICE" agent to "look into it."

So this dude just starts repeating stuff back like "so you want me to load the parents of the 5-year-old child you teach into a van and deport them, right?" and this bitch has the gall to say "you make it sound terrible 😅" in a self-conscious way. And then when he finally makes a more direct insult by nonchalantly saying that the 5-year-old "must be a major threat to national security," she demands to speak to his supervisor (which he agrees to and then makes no effort to change his voice for lmao).

This is far from the only call where the whole "repeat their rhetoric back to them" tactic pisses the caller off, too. As rotten, immoral, and disgusting as these ghouls are, I believe there's a tiny part of them that is aware of how fucked up their beliefs and behavior are. Being forced to confront that leads to painful cognitive dissonance and they'd rather lash out at the person who criticized them than look inward and do some self-reflection. Forcing people to confront their own cognitive dissonance of "I'm a good person" clashing with "I have objectively gross and harmful beliefs" is useful, even if it will never go anywhere.

silvermoon424

Something that also got me was how the teacher kept looking for OP to soothe and assuage her ego/conscience and got progressively more agitated when he wouldn’t. This is someone who desperately needs to think she’s a good person who is doing good things when what she’s doing is objectively heinous.

She thought she was in the right because she was trying to tear apart this family in a “polite” and indirect way. She’s not the one holding a gun and herding people into an unmarked van, after all. The fact that her call would have directly led to that outcome doesn’t register as culpability to her until OP makes her connect the dots. THAT’S why she got upset, because she was forced to acknowledge the blood on her hands.

pengucolas

ponytail

lukewarmtomatosoup

gar field? that’s not where they’re supposed to be

encryptidarchivist

ah,,, but they are such gentle beasts,,,

lukewarmtomatosoup

oh wow… how serene…

catgirl-kaiju

so this knight came to my wizard's tower one day and asked me to cast a spell that would allow him to take his beloved princess' hand in marriage. pretty typical this kind of wish, and i had just the spell. a combo of "turn person into a royal" and "transform appearance to match romantic ideal", easy. he paid handsomely for it too, so how can i says no?

turns out his princess is a lesbian and nobody knew, so when i cast the spell it made him into a beautiful princess. she asked for a refund right away and begged me (cryin', held me at swordpoint) to turn her back, but i says to her, i says, "The die has already been cast, and your fate is now sealed!" which is my way of sayin' "no refunds".

turns out, bein' a princess weren't so bad for her and she was able to take her sweet and beloved princess' hand in marriage. seems like everything worked out.

but then, surprise of my life, they both show up to my tower and my spell was undone. some dark sorcerer shithead (some kinda sketchy royal adviser who wanted to usurp the throne, a million like 'im) had removed my enchantments and turned our princess back into a knight. but she didn't want to be a man no more and asked me to redo the spell. gladly i changed her back in exchange for fuckin' up this sorcerer shmuck, (could be a threat to my business, you see) gave 'er an enchanted sword an everything. to my shock, the other princess takes the sword and vows to get this guy for me.

now i got all this guy's magic shit and good graces for life with the queens of the land, plus the best advertisement money can't buy. "yes, i am in fact That wizard from the story of the princess knight!" classic.

anyway, all that to say, no i ain't changin' yous back. you'll be mommy's pretty little maid and you'll like it.

apariciummmnul

I just saw the banana on a wall artwork. Made me really think deep, what does count as art..

zoestorm

Hey I have a question for y'all.

From where you are right now, could you reach the nearest sea or ocean by foot in less than a day?

Yes

Voting ended onApr 30

(reblog for sample size)

#technically yes #but it would be an 11 hour walk #so #especially with my disabled legs #it's a no

coldbrewpup

it sucks that having a consistent and coherent worldview as a trans woman makes everyone want to kill you even harder. the cognitive dissonance required for people to call themselves "progressive" while doing everything they can to destroy the tranny for actually believing shit instead of just rattling off the approved buzzwords is unthinkable. how do you sleep at night, yknow?

coldbrewpup

i'm too tired this morning to find the words, but it's like. we're all for feminism, except when the Tranny does it. we're all for gender liberation Except. we're all for sexual liberation Except. intersectionality Except, youthlib Except, prison abolition Except, Except Except Except.

misogyny is real but not when it effects You. racism is real but not when it effects You. poverty But, sexual assault But, trauma But, harassment But, But But But.

they hate us for existing and for having interiority and they especially hate us when our politics and belief system are actually coherent, when we actually believe in the shit we're talking about instead of just spouting the platitudes that'll earn Good Queer points.

writeswrongs

I was supposed to give a speech to over a thousand people today at a labor rally, but the rally was planned mostly around white union organizers who have not been to ICE recently or maybe ever. I say this because they planned this as follows: a Rally, with a march to ICE, followed by a second half of a Rally, the second half of which was to include my speech, which seemingly was the only speech to include a Salvadoran migrant speaker.

I was not originally invited to speak, but heard last minute that someone else had fallen ill and was giving up their slot, and begged white organizers through the grape vine to let me speak as a Salvadoran migrant and union steward who came to the US at age 7.

I have long been soured of going to so many rallies and felt alienated that they were allegedly for or about my people, but that no one had thought people /like/ me exist - we are still here! There are migrants in your work spaces and neighborhoods and organizations, we have stories and labor songs and speeches to share, we are marxists and labor organizers and have reasons to speak out too.

But seldom if ever do you hear our music or faces or voices near the banners. Instead of Tigres Del Norte we heard Bella Ciao, and none of the singers knew the Italian words or bothered to even translate them, so they sang nanananananana, instead of the powerful lyrics that maybe meant something once to someone somewhere. Instead of Somos Más Americanos we heard Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

Instead of a Salvadoran woman who wanted to speak to the American union workers about the Banana workers unions, we heard from a dozen white people about democracy, and justice, and the constitution, and no one was warned about what would happen if they marched down the street from the park to the ICE facility. They fully expected everyone to come back and complete the second half of the rally.

Instead, marchers with their dogs and children were tear-gassed to hell and back the second they dared get close to the facility, maybe at best 1/3rd of the marchers returned while the rest were bottlenecked towards ICE. There was little to no water to treat the untrained protestors. I returned to the rally quickly realizing I could not get caught up at ICE, knowing who I am and what awaits me.

When I got back a chorus of smiling white faces sang a silly song like a Christmas carol with their heads bobbling, reading the lyrics from some handed out papers. White people with upside down flags cheered. Then a black woman in overalls abruptly got on the mic and said “Well thank you everyone but we have to close the program early because people are getting tear-gassed, please get home to safety righty away,” - and I swore I couldn’t believe my ears.

They had brought us all here, marched all these people down to the ICE facility, and expected us all to march back without encountering teargas? And then when some people had made it back they had them sing a little jingle but turned the one migrant away? I begged them to let me speak for the three minutes I had allotted, noting that I had put myself in serious danger to come out here today. That I needed to be heard just this once, and that all the white people had their fair turn to say many unrelated things, and to sing many unrelated songs.

She said, “you don’t understand, there are children down here,” and I had to say “you don’t understand, there are children in the camps.”

And she tried again, “yes but the gas is spreading,” and I said “yes we have been down here being gassed for six months, don’t you understand?”

She blinked twice and told me they just had to break down. I watched from the sidelines as they continued to blare Caribbean Blue and smooth jazz while people filtered out, stood around talking, chatting - finally I said, “please let me speak, you still have speakers going, it’s been 20 minutes,” and the DJ, a white elderly man in a sweater vest who had a strict “only the classics” policy that seems to actually mean “no hip hop and no curse words,” - barked at me that he had to break down and to help him take down his canopy. I am no maid, so I did not listen. He then turned to my comrades and told them to take his canopy down, which they did not. Then turned to his two other labor organizers who were not paying attention, and they took a leg of the canopy and moved it somewhere without breaking it down.

And one looked at me and said quietly, “it’s okay, take that bullhorn no one will notice,” and we took it and ran.

And we ran to a firetruck which I climbed, and I gave the speech, which was in fact more than 3 minutes, sorry not sorry, to a crowd of workers who were slowly pouring out from the ice facility, some stopping, some going, some who heard me, some who didn’t. And I gave it there and it was the only speech most of these people will ever hear from a migrant in all of this, and I think that is tragic. But I firmly believe that had I not given it, had I not climbed the truck, had I not taken the mic, some people would have never heard this story at all. And I think very much you should hear it. And I hope you will share it, if you have the chance. And I hope I get to tell it again, someday, to people who actually listen, to the masses who came to actually support immigrants, and not just to the dredges after they’ve been gassed and are running for shelter while I’m coughing myself.

This is what I had to say.

transcriptroopers

Transcribed for accessibility + added links for context, but please still watch/listen to the speech if possible. A live speech really resonates. Begin transcription.

Olivia: I came to the United States when I was 7 years old. And I became a citizen when I was 20. But I am on this stage to ask: if you will give me 3 minutes of your time, *cough* I will give you 300 years of American History that has been taken from you.

There are five crops that changed the world as we know it. Bananas. Coffee. Tobacco. Sugar. And Cotton.

First grown by slaves in the New World, these crops all happened to also grow in a little bean-shaped country that my parents lived in near the Caribbean called Cuzcatlan, ‘The Land of Precious Things.’ It would be renamed El Salvador in the 1800’s.

But the precious things remained after the name changed. And the people were captured, and they were forced to work for pennies on the dollar to dredge the precious things from the soil, and the sea, and the mountains, and the sand. Cuzcatlan was not precious just to us, you see. It was coveted by the Americans. And once they saw our jewels, they would never be satisfied again.

The people suffered. And how we suffered! Dying in the fields, raped by their masters, buried in the shining black volcanic sands, their blood fertilizing the crops.

Of Bananas. Coffee. Sugar. Cotton. And Tobacco.

Until one day, the people of Cuzcatlan said, ‘We can bear it no more.’ And they broke their shovels in half, and they plunged the stems into their masters, and they rode through the streets on their masters’ Spanish horses, and they cried out that Cuzcatlan would no longer belong to the American companies that demanded their precious things without paying precious prices. Perhaps, soon, those business leaders would learn to negotiate for the labor and crops they so needed.

And the Americans? The Americans could not stand it! They would not abide such a story be told. And so you never heard it! The American companies, and all of their corporate masters came down on Cuzcatlan, with a fury seldom seen before. They killed everyone.

Instead, you heard a story about “Communists” and “Terrorists” in Central America, spreading a disease that would destroy your country and families. You heard a story that we have no good will towards you. That we wanted you to starve, that we were lazy, and formed gangs, and were lawless, and wore weapons to sell you drugs and fund terrorism.

But you never heard the story of Cuzcatlan, because it was a sad story, and sad stories do not sell fruit, and coffee, and cigarettes!

No, they came to my country, and they wiped out entire villages. The Archbishop, Don Remar - er, Don Romero, himself, was shot by the military during his Sunday Mass, for having dared to wonder whether the workers deserved some mercy. Assassinated for having dared to wonder, and he was left bleeding on the pulpit, even as worshippers bowed their heads.

EVERYBODY was KILLED.

EVERYBODY! The women, with their children still in their arms. Anyone looking for cover; people who found cover, people who didn’t. People who worked, and people who had no jobs. Communists. Catholics. Those who didn’t know how to read, those who didn’t know what labor rights were. Simple folks. Smart folks.

And they didn’t stop there. They went through the countryside, and they killed everyone they thought was hiding labor organizers or communists sympathizers. Banana union men and women, who they labeled terrorists. And in one village, we still only speak about in whispers, called “El Mozote.” The Americans tied women and children to trees, and they threw their babies in the air, and they shot them. Everyone was killed, to send one message, and that is: “A union is a threat to the American Empire. Not one union man or woman will hide in your village, or any other. And if you hid one here, now or ever, you will never breathe to hide one again."

And I tell you this because I am you from the future. You and I, all of you, are very much alike. You worked very hard to buy the precious things you have from the ground, the sky, the water, and the aether. You all wrote stories, you filed insurance policies, you taught children, you rung people up, you made sure whatever sorry system they had worked, not because you believed in it, not because you wanted it, but because it was all you could do.

And in exchange, they offered you cheap bananas. Coffee. Sugar. Tobacco. Bananas.

But I will tell you a secret. They were never cheap. They were precious. And so are you.

And they stole you, and they stole us, and they stole it all, and they told you: if you look the other way, you get to be satisfied and at least well-fed. But who can afford the luxuries of cigarettes or vapes or groceries anymore? Even that is being taken from you. And even if you have them, your food or your small pleasures won’t satisfy you. Not more than knowing the truth about Cuzcatlan, not more than knowing the truth about El Salvador. Today, where our precious land once stood, they built a concentration camp called CECOT. And not just for our precious things, our people, but yours. Your citizens, your dissenters, your unwanted disappeared into the hole that America built.

And what will we do when they start building incinerators at the camps? What will you do when they open up mass graves?

For our people, the most precious gift of all: do not take my warning lightly. The story of Cuzcatlan is not just from the past. It is from the future. The workers face the same enemy, and the enemy never had your interest in mind. From the moment they had you, the plan was to have a worker. From the moment you existed, it was to create another soldier against the people of Cuzcatlan and the rest of the world. You were a commodity to them.

But we have written you a new future. One in which we no longer point guns at each other. One in which our billionaires fear the land of precious people from learning they are no longer precious things.

Turn to me now! And tell me you will not forget the last three minutes. You will never again be ignorant of this story. And you will not let it happen here. You will close the camps. You will destroy ICE.

Spectator: Yeah! Olivia: You would rather have seasonal bananas or never see one again than have it covered in blood.

Spectators: That’s right! Yeah!

Olivia: You would rather trade fairly with other union workers than kill your fellow man, wouldn’t you?

Spectators: Yes! Olivia: Tell me you love me, and that our fates are tied! Tell me you’ll stop them from dragging me down from this place, and I’ll never let them do to you what they did to us. I promise. El pueblo unido…

Spectator: JAMÀS SERÀ VENCIDO!

Olivia: Nunca será vencido. Amen.

End Transcription.

writeswrongs

It means a lot to me, that someone wrote down this speech for me, that I in the middle of the night wrote for as a love letter to the American labor movement.

I know I stuttered a bit, as I had just been gassed, as it took place not but 400 feet maybe from the Portland ICE facility.

One correction among many tiny ones:

“You worked very hard to /ply/ the precious things you have from the ground, the sky, the water, and the aether.” - And that work, it is very precious.

May the message make it to you all regardless.

zyrip

Arknights comic about nothing in particular

bovid-beauty

One of the biggest DIY HRT hubs in the UK appears to have permanently shut down just days after being targeted by right-wing outlets.

HRT Cafe, a grassroots database of tutorials, resources, and information on hormone replacement therapy (HRT), closed its doors earlier this week.

The website, which was maintained by a small, anonymous group of developers, was considered one of the biggest resources for ‘DIY’ HRT in the UK.

It is not illegal to possess non-controlled hormones for personal use without a prescription in the UK.

Developers shuttered the site unexpectedly earlier this week. No official statement has been published, only that its developers were no longer accepting donations.

Its closure came just days after a number of right-wing news outlets, including The Daily Signal, published articles on ‘DIY’ vendors citing HRT Cafe and other resource sites.

trans4trans

HRTCafe.net, formerly DIYHRT.Cafe, is a website created to provide information for how to safely obtain DIY HRT for trans people who cannot

mirror for hrt.cafe. Contribute to addidotlol/hrtcafe-mirror development by creating an account on GitHub.

web archive of hrt cafe and a github mirror for those who need it. the link below is an archive of various diy sites including hrt cafe as well.

Automatically archiving DIYHRT resources. Contribute to soapingtime/diyhrt development by creating an account on GitHub.

demilypyro

we gotta normalize being trans okay i was talking about how awesome sucking dick is and the person i was talking to was like "huh i thought you were a lesbian" dude first of all i have never sucked a male dick in my life i only suck female dicks like god intended. if you don't understand this we can't have a conversation. i kinda forgot male dick even exists. it's not real to me

taliabhattwrites

Men have penises???

Sounds fake tbh

depsidase

jungwildeandfree

so this guy right he makes ancient egyptian themed furry costumes. he makes all kinds but mostly he specializes in Horus heads. it's his passion really. he loves to make the beautiful falcon head of the Sun God. anyway so he's at a con one day and he sees this whole bunch of people in middle kingdom dress with these indistinguishable animal heads. he's like. oh man these folks could really use a new source, i can hardly tell what animal those are! so he goes over and he says "hey guys! i see you are into ancient egyptian mythological themed furry costumes--if any of you are interested in being the radiant Son of Ra, I am the BEST in the business!"

and the group of people look at each other, then at him. awkward. finally one of them says: "uh. no thanks. we're all Set."