If THE modern translator of the OG Odyssey text wrote this about my film adaptation Iād kill myself
Emily Wilson youāre goated
I still want to see it but I will keep this in mind

gracie abrams
Not today Justin

bliss lane
Sade Olutola
𩵠avery cochrane š©µ
Interview Vampire Daily

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
Aqua Utopiaļ½ęµ·ć®åŗć§čØę¶ćē“”ć
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@elizabeebeebeth
If THE modern translator of the OG Odyssey text wrote this about my film adaptation Iād kill myself
Emily Wilson youāre goated
I still want to see it but I will keep this in mind
I cant believe this tweet is how I find out
now all the things you guys have told me about american high schools are starting to make sense
holy shit.
You're not really supposed to say it this way, because its considered crass, but here in the US children are culturally and legally considered essentially the property of their parents.
Note that its considered more crass to point this out than it is to treat children as property in the first place.
(via File Photo)
WTF are those obelisks on the right?ā¦
Tasty obelisk fries..
āItās digestibleā has got to be the laziest goal Iāve ever seen achieved by a food product.
āItās digestibleā
āItās digestibleā is pertinent!! Okay, for those of you who havenāt researched Crisco for writing fic about gay sex in the mid-late 60s:
The first-edition ofĀ The Joy of Gay Sex, published in 1977, declared, āVegetable shortening may be the best lubricant, since it is not only greasy but also digestibleā[4]Ā Such a statement perhaps gives new meaning to the companies boastful declarations that āIts digestibleā and āCrisco has been making life in the kitchen more delicious for years.āĀ Similarly, in the 1978 sex manualĀ The Advocate Guide to Gay Health, Crisco even earned an entry in the bookās index.Ā Discussions of the shorteningās use as an anal lubricant indicate its popularity, with statements such as: āThe lubricant, typically the cultic Crisco, must be copious.ā[5]Ā In fact, Crisco was so synonomus with gay sex that discos and bars around the world took on the name, such as Crisco Disco in New York City, which was one of the premiere clubs during the 1970s and early 1980s.Ā Other clubs or bathhouses, such as Club Z in Seattle, even featured murals with Crisco.Ā Thus, Crisco was conversely also one of many things that led to the formation of gay identities during the 20thĀ century.
from this essay: http://www.columbia.edu/~sf2220/TT2007/web-content/Pages/drew2.html
The more you know! :D
I have learned a new thing today.
Love this post for so many reasons but most especially because this is from all the way back in 2012 and and yet not a single blog in this thread is deactivated
I enjoy that not only does this have a link to an actual source, but the link still fucking works.
but @rhea314 you didnt include a picture of the crisco disco! AND MY GOD THE DJ BOOTH WAS A GIANT CRISCO CAN!
Go dance and get fisted. Fucking iconic.
Love the gay history, but i just wanna correct that the āitās digestibleā in the gay stuff was a reference to criscoās tagline it had been using since 1911, the actual meaning of its digestible is because itās main competition came from āenhancedā lards which were rendered pig fat mixed with non food thickeners that literally did not digest and caused people to basically just shit out pig cream, since crisco was veggie based the body digested it along with the food
And in case you were still wondering, @mudwerks.. Tuna Croquettes
This post is the opposite of net zero information. Not only did I learn several new facts about gay history but also we rounded our way back to the original question of the tag line and the mini obelisks.
Itās a net profit of information. 12/10 post
Iām blessing you with restful sleep and a slightly lucky day for tomorrow. You donāt have to do anything for it, you just got lucky seeing this :)
Passing this onward, with NO NEED TO REBLOG!
You know that Margaret Atwood quote talking about how a major effect of existing as a women in a patriarchal society that objectifies women is that when you are a woman, even when you're alone, you can't escape that self-peception from the view of the male gaze?
The one that ends, "You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur."?
I really do think that pushing this concept precisely one degree further in the other direction would explain a LOT about how we ended up with this whole "Incel, looksmaxxing, manosphere" clusterfuck, I just need 20 minutes and an antidepressant to articulate how
Like
LEVEL 0: People exist
LEVEL 1: "Man" and "Woman" roles are constructed; posed as a strict binary with discrete and disparate traits and roles.
LEVEL 2: Man wields power; Woman relies on Man's approval. One role is perceived and valued as better, stronger, smarter. Requiring Man's approval, Woman cultivates inner "man" in order to see herself from Man's perspective as a tool to better anticipate Man's desires.
LEVEL 3: Man perceives Woman's "inner man"; Man perceives anticipatory and appealing behavior as deceptive and manipulative. The potential ability of Woman to manipulate and deceive Man places Women in a position of power above Man, which Man perceives as a threat. In response, Man cultivates "inner woman": a tool which he uses to perceive the "inner man" who Woman uses to predict and appeal to Man.
LEVEL 4: Man "sees" the caricature of "Man" further distorted by the caricature of his conceptualized "Woman" and feels threatened and inferior, but at the same time trapped by the binary which generates this power struggle. Inside of him is a deceptive and threatening "Woman" who he rejects; inside of HER is the Ultimate Man, who this image of Woman supposedly desires the approval of.
If Woman can predict Man, then Woman is an opponent who leverages power through engagement with Man. The only way for "Man" to escape the Threat that Woman poses is to cease engagement. He retains "victory" (escape from woman) by maintaining distance from Woman, and because explicitly admitting the possibility that Woman could ever hold power over Man is Losing, has no option but to tell himself that this is not Fear of Losing Control, but a natural consequence of Posessing Control.
Man rejects any but the most surface-level engagement with Woman, but because "Hiding From Woman" means "Woman Is Threat", and BELIEVING "Woman Is Threat" is unacceptable, Man attempts to cut Woman from the narrative.
LEVEL 5: Man, possessing the "inner woman"'s "inner man" but determined to escape the influence of "woman", mentally erases "Woman" but retains the caricature's caricature of "inner man", who is desirable to BE.
Man possesses exaggerated image of Man, who now exists solely as the Ultimate Desireable Form. In order to achieve this form, Man must constantly see through his eyes, but in order to remain safe in his position of power over Woman, he must erase any trace of evidence that he is DOING this for Woman.
Man must Be the Ultimate Man, because [redacted], who requires Man's Approval.
Having bought in to this dichotomy and fearing the terror and uncertainty of the unknown, unable to shake the foundations of the reality he must now experience, Man forces himself into choosing between floating without purpose or structure in a void where he has no control at all over his environment, or a world where he Cannot be afraid of Woman, he is Superior to Woman, and there is nothing more important that Being The Ultimate Man Receiving Approval from the Ultimate Man
My theory is this:
If we construct an environment where the rules are
"There are two parties that cannot survive without assistance from the other"
"One party dominates the other"
"Control is domination", and
"To be dominated threatens your survival",
it's pretty much inevitable that at some point we will end up with a significant population of the Dominant party whose psychological state is very much like a traumatized sailor who, after cannibalizing his crewmates for survival, cannot recognize bread as food and instead attempts to eat his rescuers
I mean, in some very interesting Technically Correct ways, they didn't actually die? Now, they're very much no longer alive. But the forces involved are such that they didn't get any of the usual cellular processes of death, they simply went from biology to physics in less time than it takes a signal to travel down your optic nerve.
if you go from biology to physics without dying first you donāt go to heaven the uber driver went over this
i am massively overdue for a very very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy
reblog to give prev a very good week where not a single bad thing happens and everything is easy
Albert Square, Manchester (1910) by Adolphe Valette | Contemporary Art (2015) by Emily Allchurch
the top is an original, from 1910, the bottom is a new version painted in 2015
THE BOTTOM IS A PAINTING????
also does a really good job reminding the view just how much air quality has improved since we stopped burning coal in every building lol
You BEHEAD Marie Antoinette?
you CHOP her head like the GUILLOTINE??
OH OH CHAOS FOR FRANCE! CHAOS FOR FRANCE FOR 1000 YEARS!!!!
Pity I hadnāt seen this closer to Bastille Day⦠:-D
Catstille Day.
I wish I could go to a doctor and just list every single symptom I ever experienced no matter how small and unconnected they seem and the doctor is nice and patient and knows everything and they nod and smile and explain that every symptom I ever experienced is connected to like one rare and often overlooked issue that's sooooo easy to fix with like. a pill. and then I never have to worry about anything ever again.
I wish I could go to a doctor and explain my one single debilitating symptom Iāve had for 20+ years thatās been diagnosed and failed all the treatments and the doctor looks in my throat and sure does a quick blood test and says um actually take this one $5 pill and youāll be good to go. And next door will be another doctor who would deal with my next most problematic symptoms the same way (because they would now be top of the list).
Y'all for real please do these. Even if you're certain your posture doesn't suck. One day you will wake up with impinged shoulder pain like I did and let me tell you it fucking HURTS. Do these exercises even just once a week and it will make such a difference. Especially my fellow creatives out there, stop shrimping over your work and go do these right now. RIGHT NOW.
Also, if youāre even a little concerned about getting a hump or having trouble standing fully upright in your old age, this is how you prevent that. If you want to be up and about when youāre old you have to start when youāre younger. And keep in mind there is no bad time to start and itās never too late. Starting today is way better than never starting at all.
Where did your first name come from?
I was named after one of my parents
I was named after a dead relative or family friend
I was named after a living relative or family friend
I was named after a religious figure
I was named after a historical figure
I was named after a fictional character
I was named after a place
My parents just chose a name they liked
Other
Having been named after a character in The Great Gatsby by my English-major dad, I thought I would ask about this.
So far as I know, my folks just liked the name.
For a long time I assumed it was a religious reference, but recently I finally asked for confirmation, and I was wrong. My parents met while teaching at the same high school, and there was a student athlete who was dealing with a significant medical condition, essentially trying to do all he could before death claimed him young (which it did). They asked (him or his parents, I forget which) if they could name their firstborn after him, and got agreement.
My mother liked the name Victoria, but my dad believed the rumors about Queen Victoria and a horse and vetoed it. Heād always liked Angela but my aunt had a baby girl and named her Angela first. My mom proposed my current name and he agreed - and she did t find out until years later that it was his motherās first name, because his mother hated the name and always went by her middle name instead. That wasnāt a voting option.
honey is the only food product that never spoils. there are pots of honey that are over five thousand years old and still completely edible
i also want to point out we know it tastes the same even after thousands of years b/c archaeologists who discovered two thousand year old honey tasted it. presumably right after they looked at each other and went āwhat the hell here goes nothingā
Iām pretty sure they also identify human remains by taste. Archaeologists are straight up freaks.
No, no no⦠you identify bone from rock or other substances by touching it to your tongue. If it sticks, itās bone. The taste itself has nothing to do with it. And most archaeologists wonāt lick human bones if they know theyāre human.
ā¦and I realize that doesnāt actually do much to prove archaeologists arenāt freaks.
mai nam is jane and wen i dig i fynde some roks both smol and big i put my tung upon the stone for science yes i lik the bone
Iām sitting with a bunch of archaeologists and we just laughed so hard we CRIED weāre getting tshirts with this on them
I will never ever get tired of seeing bredlik poems. It is really one of the seminal art forms of the century. I am not being sarcastic.Ā
If I ever donāt reblog this, assume Iām dead and archaeologists are licking my bones.
i've been here the whole time šššššš„¹š šš¤£š
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Every morning, the queen asked her magic mirror to show her the most beautiful person in the world.
The mirror replied "To whom?"
"The miller who made the flour for my bread," the queen would say, or "Whoever spun the thread my shawl was made of".
The mirror would show her, and she'd be amazed.
The first time, she says "To me," and the mirror dutifully shows her her reflection. And she is pleased.
The second time, she says "To the King," and she is pleased to see herself once more.
The third time, she says "To the Royal Advisor," and is once more satisfied to see herself.
The fourth time, she says "To the scribe who takes the King's letters." She is shown the man's wife. And she seethes, but quiets herself, for it is only right that a man loves his wife.
The fifth time, she says "To the Court Wizard," and is shown the man's departed mother as he remembers her from his youth, radiant and smiling and warm and larger than life.
The tenth time, she says "To the Stable Master," and is shown the fastest horse in the stable, majestic and free as the wind even in captivity
"To the baker," she is shown the man's daughter, young and adorable and full of joy and laughter.
"To the artist who did my portrait," she is shown a painting of a woman done by the man's teacher, who he still looks up to now that he is well established himself.
"To the Royal Knight," she is surprised but not displeased to see the castle's entire guard force in the middle of doing drills.
The one hundredth time she asks the mirror, and it asks her "to whom?" she once again says, "To me." And she does the same the one hundred and second, and again and again and again.
It is a different person each time, and they are all beautiful.
really if you take any complaint about ai and replace ai with "complex math" you can see a bit more clearly on the topic
"complex math is ruining art/complex math art is not art" nonsense statements
"the government is employing complex math to automate extreme violences on other countries" something to consider and be concerned about
"companies are getting big investments with overstated claims about what they can do with complex math" that does sound like something they'd do
"complex math is completely useless and people only say it's useful to try to sell you stuff" that is significantly less plausible
"if enough of us avoid using complex math we can make it go away" okay so you don't know how anything works
Every now and then I think about one of the ER visits I had for a migraine attack that was so severe my hip dislocated from the force of my convulsive vomiting, and I had to hold my head up with my hands because shortly after that my collarbone popped out and subluxated my neck, so I couldnāt lift my head up without help. All while in excruciating, radiating pain and continuing to throw up uncontrollably.
I had two nurses in that room with me that night, one who thought I was lying about my hip dislocation and thought I was being difficult on purpose until she actively saw my neck subluxate, and then she turned white as a ghost and ran to fill my script.
And the other who helped me up onto the bed out of the wheelchair, all but carrying my full weight as he murmured over and over again, āitās okay, youāre okay, weāre going to help you, you donāt need to be sorryā as I kept apologizing for being difficult.
Iām sure I was one of many, many people he saw that night. He looked exhausted. But he still chose kindness. I think about him a lot. I hope he knows it made a difference.
When my mother was in a rehab facility used between hospital and home after a head injury and COVID, she liked precisely one caregiver because he met this super high standard: treated her like a human being. (On the opposite end was the nurse who responded to her request for help to the bathroom by putting a disposable brief on her and telling her to use that if she needed to go during the night)