Exhausted Environmentalist

Chat, is it considered “abusive roommate behavior” to release a raccoon into the living space after you have asked your roommate for months to please clean up their messes (they do not pay any of the mortgage)

For context, when I used to live alone I would do something called “Princess Time” where I would do an initial sweep (to remove any significant hazards) and then I would release a raccoon into the living area and clean. This helped because I would 1) feel like a princess and 2) the raccoon would bring attention to things my ADHD brain had decided to ignore and I’d quickly clean that stuff up.

So like, if I’m expected to clean the house now, I will be doing it in the way that is most effective for me. And anything that has not been cleaned up after months of having sit-down talks and sending reminders and being promised things will change, might be deemed “trash” by the trash panda and thrown away.

We haven’t done since we moved into the house, because I didn’t want to cause my roommate or their cats destress or have their things destroyed by a raccoon

I am a raccoon biologist and one of the few people in the state allowed to take in captive bred raccoons that had been possessed illegally. The raccoon in the photos is Moonshine, but she is currently at the animal sanctuary where I work as I had been quarantining multiple new intakes from an abuse case. I still have two males (Rum Tum Tugger and Electra) left in my home enclosure as we are getting them neutered and then hopefully sending them to an AZA accredited zoo.

I wanna make things very clear that underneath all the whimsy, I am a trained professional.

thatblackwatchdouche-blog-blog

Those vibes are likely because I’m the original creator of Dashcon and my personality has not changed since 2012 lmao

fipindustries

lilboreddev-blog

reblog if your name isn't Amanda.

2,121,566 people are not Amanda and counting!

We’ll find you Amanda.

world-heritage-posts

world heritage post

wheezecheese

I HAVE to reblog this eleven million note post. That’s the most notes I’ve ever seen on tumblr. Also my name is Jade, not Amanda.

myrandomstuffpage

Definitely not Amanda.

barnacle-battlefront1

Not Amanda here either ✌️

A story within a story where a mother sits her rowdy children down and tells them a story about a the world's sweetest, kindest mother who never lost her temper, never cursed and never yelled at her children, no matter how rowdy they could get. She would only gently, kindly told them to not do the dangerous things. One day she sweetly, kindly told her children to not go play at the riverbank, because it's dangerous and they might slip on the rocks, fall into the water, and die. Her children do not listen. They go play at the riverbank, where they slip on the rocks, fall into the water, and die.

And the sweet perfect mother of the story comes to the riverbank, sees that all her children drowned, and starts crying so bitterly that angels overhear her, and the angels say to each other, "she does not deserve this, this woman has never done anything wrong in her life, this should not have happened to her", and feeling great pity for her, bring her children back to life, and after that they always listened to their mother and lived happily ever after.

And the storyteller's children, who at this point are familiar with the concept that these stories are supposed to have some sort of a moral or lesson in them, interject to point out that their mother hasn't always done everything perfectly, she isn't always sweet, curses a lot, and as a matter of fact loses her shit at her kids all the time. She isn't like the mother of the story at all.

And their mother agrees: Her children are correct. She is not a perfect mother who has never done anything wrong. Angels will not have pity on her, and they will not bring her little shits back to life if they go to the river and die. So they better fucking not go get themselves killed in the first place.

the-real-seebs

this was forwarded to me by my kid and i gotta say that adds layers to the interpretation

ef-1

My favouritest sport fact ever is that in 1990s 2 cardiac surgeons watched an f1 race to save the lives of countless kids. The Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children (GOSH) kept losing the lives of patients after successful heart surgeries. Specifically the 10-15 minutes after a bonefide clinically successful surgery patients would die:

And so the two surgeons filmed a handover after heart surgery and sent it to the Ferrari pitcrew who were told to critique and improve handover process

And from this:

we got this:

The error rate during patien handovers dropped from 30% to 10% with the F1 informed protocol.

I literally love this fact so much because being an pitcrew member is such a thankless job because theyre underpaid and overworked mechanics and they literally saved lives in this instance.

mondengel2

Doctors at Great Ormond Street Hospital turned to Formula 1 for answers. By studying Ferrari’s pit-stop teamwork, they redesigned how patien

I love this!

And it that it wasn't a one and done.

The doctors went to the race tracks to watch the car changes and the pit crews went to the hospitals and watched a live transfer and offered suggestions and they kept working with them to improve.

After there was a successful improvement of the most vital metrics of a handover of a patient from surgery to ICU, the pit crews also worked with other hospitals for other procedures and it's now a whole thing of trying to apply the specialized, streamlined and speedy teamwork and nonverbal coordination of pit crews to other high-risk fields.

This is a perfect example of how two very different fields of knowledge meeting can make a huge leap forward in progress.

Hm. So apparently people with epilepsy can learn to sense when they have a seizure coming. I wonder if you could use that as a plot device thing in a story somewhere.

Like there's some big-ass Great Public Council Meeting about some important politicial issue, Roman Senate style, and there's two opposing sides about the issue, but also a big chunk of undecided people who could be persuaded to vote either way. And there's someone in attendance, who hasn't spoken out loud about the issue anywhere but sides strongly with one of the options. And just when the dispute is about to swing to the wrong direction, they sense a seizure about to happen, and it's too late for them to try to get out of there or really even warn anyone.

So instead they just stand up, boldly announce, "I, for one, am sure that [option they do not want] cannot fail! If I am wrong, let the Gods smite me right where I stand!" and then the fucking seizure hits.

silverthief22

I used to get really bad nose bleeds but sometimes could feel when they were starting. One day in middle school this guy in geography class wouldn’t shut the fuck up about that conspiracy theory that Delaware doesn’t exist, so when I felt one coming on I loudly interrupted the rant our teacher was inexplicably allowing to derail the class by saying “if you don’t stop I’m gonna have an aneurism!” The guy of course just kept going so a second later a small torrent of blood gushed out of my head and, being a dramatic bitch, I collapsed face down onto my desk into a nice little puddle of blood. Anyway apparently outside of intense Roman Senate-esque debates, these stunts apparently induce panic attacks in educators and end up with you getting lectured about how traumatizing it is for your classmates when you “fake your death for dramatic effect”

I believe this falls into the "I don't think people should be punished for objectively funny crimes" category.

gsirvitor

bakasara

this too is enshittification. to me

While I'm aware that this is a wildly oversimplified take on the matter, you can get surprisingly far with assessing what human behaviours are instinctive or not by estimating how much it's nature vs nurture. Showing kindness and wanting to help people are inherently human, as small kids will start trying to "help" in their surroundings as soon as they develop the ability to do anything. Having the capability to be cruel is also inherently human, as kids also can and will be absolutely evil if left unsupervised. It's a question of nurture that adults around them encourage them in their attempts to act out of kindness (no matter how unhelpful they may be) and discourage them from cruelty.

Babies babble to test out different vocalisations and mimic the sounds in their surroundings, because it's natural of them to try to learn language. They still need to be spoken to, and exposed to speech, because whatever language they pick up is a matter of nurture. Wanting to eat, sleep, exercise and play are natural urges, that don't need to be taught. Doing household chores like tidying up after yourself and doing regular cleaning are things that must be taught, as nature abhors a vacuum.

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

The rules of Gay Pirate Plate are simple by the way.

The plate must be clearly and openly displayed in a place of great prominence whenever it is in your possession. When it is not in your possession, the display piece must remain in place. This is where you would put your gay pirate plate, IF YOU HAD ONE.

No active steps may be taken to prevent the theft of the Gay Pirate Plate. That goes against the spirit of the game, as does attempting to hide it.

The plate MUST be stolen and cannot be gifted or removed with permission. Should you witness attempted theft of the Gay Pirate Plate you are required to intervene and return it to its place.

Every time your sibling successfully absconds with the Gay Pirate Plate, you must respond with indignant fury, as if you have not also repeatedly and blatantly stolen the Gay Pirate Plate.

WOE

PLATE BE UPON YE