The shooter was probably some Mormon fundy who trained in illegal militias all his life and could make that shot from 600 feet and hated Kirk for reasons far more baffling and contradictory than the basic political spectrum can possible explain and in the 4 hours the Feeb was interrogating that old man he slipped up to northern Idaho where he will never be caught
Like not to put too fine a point on it and no disrespect to the American left-of-center but the types of people who can hit a target with pinpoint accuracy at 200 yards are not attending local DSA meetings and canvassing for abortion rights with their mom
my economics professor mentioned that my state's old growth logging ban was lifted (in a positive tone) and i already didn't like her but i almost went apeshit istg. @headspace-hotel's posts actually changed my brain chemistry. i rambled to a few classmates about them afterwards and went into a research spiral for half the afternoon too. i'm so angry that i'll never see them. i'll never be able to walk on six inches of topsoil. i'll be lucky to walk on one. economics are a joke i want my goddamn earth back
Hi there, I don't know what state you're from, but not only are there probably already protests and resistance organized to the logging, efforts like that Do Work.
I don't talk in much detail about my IRL work on here but I have learned this: all it takes is a mildly above average effort to reach out to someone who seems sort-of adjacent to knowledgeable to turn "30 people all privately seething" to "an organization with the power to create change."
like, literally just send emails to random people involved in conservation or research or who just Know Trees (maybe try someone who works at a local university?) until you find someone who can give you the email to someone else, and pretty soon you will have more contacts than you know what to do with. Do not underestimate the power of simply asking "Hi. I care about Thing. Can you point me toward someone who can help?"
It takes maximum 3 degrees of separation for you to tap into the random retired ladies that are leveraging Tactical Defense Karen abilities against habitat destruction 24/7, and damn, powerful things happen when a social media literate youngster joins forces with a confident, self-actualized boomer who is an unimpeachable pillar of their community and has like 80 close friends who are in influential positions everywhere.
Twitter post from user ollieternity:
I buried my close friend Harpy today, please if you can, read her poem “Girls Like Us” she wrote in 2016 it would mean the world to me and to her for other trans people, especially Tgirls, feel impacted and touched by her work. Love you Harpy
Attached is the poem mentioned and a photo of Harpy (a pale-skinned woman with long, brown hair wearing a heavy, black peacoat dress) against a backdrop of barren trees beside a stone wall.
The poem "Girls Like Us" is transcribed below the cut:
Every girl like me I know feels like she was born with an expiration date,
like there's a number stamped on her forehead that says "26 years old"
that says "six months after the money runs out"
that says "when you can't do this anymore"
that says "as soon as you work up the courage,"
and I'm one of the lucky ones, because that scares me,
Sometimes I think I have an immigrant's patriotism for this world,
because it took me 20 years to decide that I wanted to live in it.
Maybe that's what hope is.
But I don't know how to say that the greatest poet I know and her girlfriend,
who looks so like me she nearly made my mom faint when she opened the door,
are probably not going to last another year.
So everybody told me to vote for Bernie Sanders.
It's not enough.
Now people are saying this might be the end times,
but I want to remind them that we have already been living in them,
for as long as I can remember,
and I don't know why it's so hard to keep in contact with someone I don't see,
to reach out across that burden of distance with the uncertain arms of exhaustion,
but I know why it's hard to reassure somebody,
when all you can say is "I'm scared, too."
How much money can you give somebody,
when money is the thing you don't have?
For time, same question.
A trans woman I had never met came into my shop one day and pointed me out to her friend,
she said, "you are my sister,"
and I said "yes, I am."
So when I saw one of my sisters out on the street with a slice of cardboard, I brought her
a bottle of water and all the cash I had in my wallet,
because afterward I couldn't stop crying for six hours,
and I don't think anybody asked me why.
Maybe this is why there are so few things that feel important to me anymore.
I said "the only things people like me make are cries for help" and I got
128 reblogs.
Apparently, some people find that relatable.
A lot of people have told me that I'm the most optimistic person they know,
and I don't tell them that I have to be,
I take it as a compliment.
The thing they don't tell you about hope is that it's cyclical,
it needs to be refreshed every single day,
Hope is just like every other kind of work you do on your body.
So what does a story mean, to that?
What can a poem mean, to that?
I abhor maintenance.
I don't want to have to say anything anymore,
I want to walk to the place where all my words are done,
And build a home there.
It's not enough.
All your pleas and all your promises, your fights and feats and failures, are not and never will be enough.
Not for us.
This world was not made for us.
So let's build a better one.
Let's start right here, right now, just us, not with a kiss or a fist but just
you and me
pledging to not let go
no matter what comes, deciding
even when the love is gone
that we're not gonna let each other drown anymore.
So I want to offer my hand,
to every girl like me who needs it,
and walk with you into a place beyond these empires,
a place that doesn't exist yet.
And that,
I hope,
is enough.
Because that's...everything.
kitty cat purring gotta be in the top 1 sounds ever invented it's so awesome that there's a creature that can just be sitting and staring blankly at me but I know she's happy cause she's going brrrrrrrr
Just lost a few braincells reading an nyt article about gen z "treat culture" and I can't even fathom that this is a thing. We're living in a dystopian hellscape where someone spending $5 a week on a cookie is considered a wasteful brat because they should have just gone for a nice free walk instead and saved the $250 a year that roughly equals four days' rent. That's why these ungrateful kids can't buy a house, naturally.
I am ALL for free treats, like hiking or reading in the park. But at some point you can't budget your way out of poverty, and you will literally go mad if you deny yourself basic pleasures that are literally all around you. They even lamented that little treats could snowball into doing something absolutely unforgivable like learning how to play the guitar or buying concert tickets.
At what point do we just start saying out loud that living an enjoyable and fulfilling life is now only acceptable at a 100k+ salary, and if you're one of the millions of people unlucky enough not to be in that category you should just eat dirt and be grateful?
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