Spending $150 MILLION to chase down $104K is a wicked level of class warfare.
Just letting fare jumpers go would save hundreds of millions. #ACAB
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izzy's playlists!
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@lourdeseveryday
Spending $150 MILLION to chase down $104K is a wicked level of class warfare.
Just letting fare jumpers go would save hundreds of millions. #ACAB
Anyways everyone should watch The Good Place
i hate when rich people condescend with the whole 'money can't buy happiness' argument like listen. just because buying your fourth car didn't fill the void in your deluded disconnected-from-reality life doesn't mean not having to worry about food/ bills/medicine wouldn't greatly improve the mental health of literally everyone else on the planet
Can't believe Peter Griffin really tried it.
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! đłïžâđ
Ya no soporto esta vida llamada âno estar casada con Nanami Kentoâ T_T
Bokura wa Kiseki de Dekite Iru Ep. 2- Aikawa Kazuki Sensei
...what
This is already going wild places Im-
TO SOMEONE ON CHEMO TH0UGH??
What must their home life be like. Like if these are their power games. What goes on behind closed doors. What the fuck.
You know who I feel bad for? THE FRIENDS.
Like imagine you know this couple and they're kinda weird but hey you're friends and it ain't like you aren't weird yourself.
And then one day one of them shows up as an elf. And the other one, naruto. And it's INCREDIBLY OBVIOUS that they're playing some sort of mind game or power game with each other.
Like. If these friends didn't just be like "actually I have to go home right now bye" then theyâre better people than I.
Okay okay my god okay okay
First NOW it's spiraling? Now, buddy? You think it's getting out of hand NOW????
Second, break up or act like adults. Sorry, you're both in your 20s? You two need to sit down and have a conversation about this, and moreso about your communication problems. And the mind games clearly being played here.
Doing what she's doing is going to solve what, exactly? This IS petty and ultimately causing more problems than it's solving. To say nothing of what might be going on with her.
Tbh, no. It isn't salvageable. Good luck OP.
Oh my goodness, there was MORE.
Throw the whole relationship away, fuckssakes...
El Hombre que logró mover un edificio
Posiblemente todos los habitantes de Guadalajara alguna vez hemos visto la figura del ingeniero Jorge Matute Remus recargado sobre el antiguo edificio de TelĂ©fonos de MĂ©xico  en  la avenida JuĂĄrez. Esta  llamativa escultura con la que  muchos se han fotografiado guarda una de las historias mĂĄs memorables de Guadalajara.Â
En el año 1927 el Gobierno de Guadalajara tomĂł la decisiĂłn de demoler varios edificios que se encontraban en el Centro HistĂłrico, para unir la avenida JuĂĄrez con la amplia avenida Vallarta. Esto no representĂł ningĂșn problema, ya que todos los edificios fueron demolidos satisfactoriamente. Sin embargo, el edificio Telmex consiguiĂł un amparo para no ser demolido, por lo que era el Ășnico que se mantenĂa en medio de la avenida entorpeciendo la obra. En ese momento el ingeniero Matute Remus intervino  y expresĂł que consideraba mĂĄs fĂĄcil desplazar  el edificio o de lo contrario se gastarĂa una fortuna en construir una nueva central.
 La gran hazaña  se realizĂł del 24 al 28 de Octubre de 1950, cuando el edificio de TelĂ©fonos de MĂ©xico con un peso de 1,700 toneladas fue desplazado por 12 metros, mediante gatos mecĂĄnicos tipo ferrocarril que lo movieron durante 4 dĂas, mientras el personal se encontraba trabajando dentro de las instalaciones sin percibir el movimiento .
Habiendo logrado que el edificio se mantuviera intacto mediante esta novedosa tĂ©cnica de ingenierĂa, el ilustre  Jorge Matute Remus fue reconocido como uno de los personajes mĂĄs emblemĂĄticos del siglo XX en Guadalajara. AdemĂĄs de este logro contribuyĂł de manera significativa al progreso de la ciudad mediante sus obras e iniciativas. Actualmente lo recordamos con la escultura a las afueras de este edificio que fue develada el 25 de Abril del 2002, que representa el movimiento del edificio. AdemĂĄs de que el puente colgante mĂĄs  famoso  de la MetrĂłpoli lleva su nombre, Puente Matute Remus.
Fuente: Zona Guadalajara
Read this:
âI want to tell a story about an invisible elephant.
Once upon a time, when I was in graduate school at UCSB, the department of religious studies held a symposium on diasporic religious communities in the United States. Our working definition for religious diaspora that day was, âreligious groups from elsewhere now residing as large, cohesive communities in the US.â It was a round table symposium, so any current scholar at the UC who wanted to speak could have a seat at the table. A hunch based on hundreds of years of solid evidence compelled me to show up, in my Badass Academic Indigenous Warrior Auntie finery.
There were around 15-20 scholars at the table, and the audience was maybe fifty people. There was one Black scholar at the table, and two Latinx scholars, one of whom was one of my dissertation advisors. The other was a visiting scholar from Florida, who spoke about the diasporic SanterĂa community in Miami. But everyone else at the table were white scholars, all progressively liberal in their politics, many of whom were my friends. Since there was no pre-written agenda, I listened until everyone else had presented. I learned a tremendous amount about the Jewish diaspora in the US, and about the Yoruba/Orisha/Voudou, Tibetan Buddhist, Muslim, and Hindu communities, and even about a small enclave of Zoroastrians.
As they went on, I realized my hunch had been correct, and I listened to them ignore the elephant, invisible and silent, at that table.
So I decided to help her speak the hell up. âHello, my name is Julie Cordero. Iâm working on my PhD in Ethnobotany, Native American Religious Traditions, and history of global medical traditions. Iâd like to talk about the European Catholic and Protestant Christian religious diaspora in the United States, as these are the traditions that have had by far the greatest impact on both the converted and non-converted indigenous inhabitants of this land.â
Total silence. And then several âhot damnsâ from students and colleagues in the audience. I looked around the table at all the confused white faces. My Latinx advisor slapped his hand on the table and said, âRight!!?? Letâs talk about that, colleagues.â
The Black scholar, who was sitting next to me, started softly laughing. As I went on, detailing the myriad denominations of this European Christian Diaspora, including the Catholic diocese in which Iâd been raised and educated, and the brutal and genocidal Catholic and Protestant boarding schools that had horribly traumatized generations of First Nations children, and especially as I touched on how Christians had twisted the message of Christ to try and force people stolen from Africa to accept that their biblically-ordained role was to serve the White Race, her laughs grew more and more bitter.
The Religious Studies department chair, whoâd given a brilliant talk on the interplay between Jewish and Muslim communities in Michigan, stopped me at one point, and said, âJulie, I see the point you are so eloquently making, but youâre discussing American religions, not religious diasporic communities.â I referred to the definition of diaspora we had discussed at the start of the discussion, and then said, âNo, Clark. If I were here to discuss religions that were not from elsewhere, Iâd be discussing the Choctaw Green Corn ceremony, the Karuk Brush Dance, the Big Head ceremonial complex in Northern California, the Lakota Sun Dance, or the Chumash and Tongva Chingichnich ritual complex.â
It got a bit heated for a few moments, as several scholars-without-a-damn-clue tried to argue that we were here to discuss CURRENT religious traditions, not ancient.
Well. Iâll let you use your imagination as to the response from the POC present, which was vigorously backed by the three young First Nations students who were present in the audience (all of whom practice their CURRENT ceremonial traditions). It got the kind of ugly that only happens with people whose self-perception is that they, as liberal scholars of world cultures with lots of POC friends and colleagues, couldnât possibly be racist.
Our Black colleague stood and left without a word. I very nearly did. But I stayed because of my Auntie role to the Native students in the audience.
I looked around at that circle of hostile faces, and waited for one single white scholar to see how unbelievably racist was this discursive erasure of entire peoples - including my people, on whose homeland UCSB is situated.
Finally, a friend spoke up. âIf we are going to adhere to the definition of diaspora outlined here, she is technically correct.â
And then my dear friend, a white scholar of Buddhism: âIn Buddhist tradition, the Second Form of Ignorance is the superimposition of that which is false over that which is true. In this case, all of us white scholars are assuming that every people but white Americans are âother,â and that we have no culture, when the underlying fact is that our culture is so dominant that weâve deluded ourselves into thinking itâs the neutral state of human culture against which all others are foreign. Even the Black people our ancestors abducted and enslaved we treat as somehow more foreign than ourselves. And, most absurdly, the peoples who are indigenous to this land are told that we belong here more than they do.â
People stared at their hands and doodled. The audience was dead quiet.
And you know what happened then? The elephant was no longer invisible, and my colleagues and I were able to have a conversation based on the truths about colonialism and diaspora. We were THEN able to name and discuss the distinctions between colonial settlements and immigrant settlements, and how colonial religious projects have sought to overtake, control, and own land, people, and resources, while immigrant and especially refugee diasporic communities simply seek a home free from persecution.
As we continue this national discussion, it is absolutely key to never, ever let that elephant be invisible or silent. You are on Native Land. Black descendants of human beings abducted from their African homelands are not immigrants. European cultures are just human cultures, among many. And the assignation of moral, cultural, racial superiority of European world views over all non-Euro human cultures is a profound delusion, one that continues to threaten and exterminate all people who oppose it, and even nature itself.
I hope that this story has comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable.â
-Â Julie Cordero-Lamb, herbalist & ethnobotanist from the Coastal Band of the Chumash Nation
Translation: âwait what? what are you waiting for? eh? curry? did you make curry (in the bathtub)?â âya, want some?â âyeahâ
me feeding the homies after society collapses
Omg, loved this
ăă? ăăăđ€Ł
world leaders deal with COVID-19:Â a thread to remind you that your leader is useless
Bonus:
4ft 8.5"
Why 4 FEET 8.5 Inches is Very Important
Fascinating Stuff âŠ
Railroad Tracks The U.S. Standard railroad gauge (distance between the rails) is 4 feet, 8.5 inches.
Thatâs an exceedingly odd number.
Why was that gauge used?
Because thatâs the way they built them in England, and English expatriates designed the U.S. Railroads.
Why did the English build them like that?
Because the first rail lines were built by the same people who built the pre-railroad tramways, and thatâs the gauge they used.
Why did âtheyâ use that gauge then?
Because the people who built the tramways used the same jigs and tools that they had used for building wagons, which used that wheel spacing.
Why did the wagons have that particular Odd wheel spacing?
Well, if they tried to use any other spacing, the wagon wheels would break on some of the old, long distance roads in England, because thatâs the spacing of the wheel ruts.
So, who built those old rutted roads?
Imperial Rome built the first long distance roads in Europe (including England) for their legions. Those roads have been used ever since.
And the ruts in the roads? Roman war chariots formed the initial ruts, which everyone else had to match for fear of destroying their wagon wheels.
Since the chariots were made for Imperial Rome, they were all alike in the matter of wheel spacing.
Therefore, the United States standard railroad gauge of 4 feet, 8.5 inches is derived from the original specifications for an Imperial Roman war chariot.
In other words, bureaucracies live forever.
So the next time you are handed a specification, procedure, or process, and wonder, âWhat horseâs ass came up with this?â, you may be exactly right.
Imperial Roman army chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the rear ends of two war horses.
Now, the twist to the story:
When you see a Space Shuttle sitting on its launch pad, you will notice that there are two big booster rockets attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These are solid rocket boosters, or SRBs.
The SRBs are made by Thiokol at their factory in Utah.
The engineers who designed the SRBs would have preferred to make them a bit larger, but the SRBs had to be shipped by train from the factory to the launch site.
The railroad line from the factory happens to run through a tunnel in the mountains and the SRBs had to fit through that tunnel.
The tunnel is slightly wider than the railroad track, and the railroad track, as you now know, is about as wide as two horsesâ behinds.
So, a major Space Shuttle design feature of what is arguably the worldâs most advanced transportation system was determined over two thousand years ago by the width of a horseâs ass.
And you thought being a horseâs ass wasnât important!
Now you know, Horsesâ Asses control almost everything.
Explains a whole lot of stuff, doesnât it?
A tiny journal-ish gif-comic from a few tweets I made last night!  I believed this kind of stuff until I was 14 or so, which is pretty old in retrospectâŠ
There used to be more but I accidentally saved over it :/
I did manage to recover one other page, though!
(the end!)
same shit, different fandom
A dad, his son and bathrobes. I am obsessed with bathrobes. And dads
The fact that the location of the worldâs oldest tree has to be kept secret encapsulates everything thatâs bad about humanity.
Thereâs a story about that, actually.
According to the smithsonianmag.com, the worldâs oldest bristlecone pine was a nearly 5,000 year old tree later named Prometheus. In 1964, a man named Donald Rusk Currey decided to use an increment borer to determine its age (a process that cuts a small hole into the center of the tree trunk, and is not intended to kill the tree). Unfortunately, the borer got stuck. He and a park ranger cut the tree down to remove the equipment, and when they counted the tree rings, they realized their mistake. Oops. This incident lead to better protection of the remaining bristlecone pines.
Thereâs some wiggle room about what can be called âthe worldâs oldest living tree.â The worldâs oldest living single tree is the tree that the OP is referring to. Its name is Methuselah,and it is also around 5,000 years old. Since its location is unknown, nobody knows what it looks like. But it might be this tree here:
But technically, it isnât the oldest living tree. Let me explain.
It turns out that root systems of trees can send up genetically identical saplings (aka clones) via their root systems. Like so:
Which means the original trunk can die, but since the root system is attached to other trees which give it nutrients, it lives on. The root system can theoretically do this indefinitely. So the tree trunks could be fairly young, but the roots could be large and very, very, very old. So the oldest âtreeâ isnât a small grove, itâs a logic-defying forest.
Iâd like you to meet Pando.
This male quaking aspen covers 106 acres and is ancient. Iâm talking an estimate of 80,000 years. The trees you can see are just âshootsâ he sent up, and their average age is 130 years old. He is his own forest. If trees could talk, Iâd love to hear what he had to say.
He might be dying, due to insects and drought (hmm, wonder what could have happened to cause that). A section of Pando is being studied in an attempt to find a solution. But in the meantime, we can enjoy him for his beauty.
TLDR: Yes please, protect the trees from humans!
That doesnât say anything about humanity or even âeverything thatâs bad about humanity.â It says something about specific vandals. It says something about particular people who act badly and maliciously. Their own behavior speaks for them. It does not speak for humanity.
I would like to introduce you to the Glastonbury Thorn, or the Holy Thorn. The Glastonbury Thorn is an incredibly rare and bizarre type of hawthorn that flowers, startlingly, twice in the year - once just after midwinter. Itâs found in Glastonbury, England, and it is a legendary tree.
Figure 1. Glastonbury, variously famed for the Festival, the Tor, the Holy Grail, maaaaaaybe being Avalon if you squint, the hippies, about six million identical vegetarian cafes and witchcraft shops, a goddess temple, and the Holy Thorn. People canât decide if itâs all very neopagan or all very Christian, so they pretend itâs all very Special and Enlightened.
The Christmas-flowering nature and the Generally Recognized Cosmic Significance of Glastonbury (which is among other things maybe the Isle of Avalon) were quickly associated with Joseph of Arimathea, a Christian figure. The legend goes that when Joseph brought the Holy Grail to Glastonbury (which he probably didnât) he struck his thorn staff into the ground, where it became the legendary twice-blooming tree. This probably didnât happen, but itâs the Holy Thorn. The first written record of the Holy Thorn was apparently in the 1500s, and very proud of it they were, too.
Now, in the English Civil War, sometime between 1642â1651, the Roundheads burned down the Holy Thorn on Wearyall Hill, decrying it as regressive superstition. But people had saved cuttings and graftings of their beloved magical tree. They put it back. Because humanity. Humanity is a race of gardeners and hoarders and people who love stories and treasure and rebellion. Of course they put it back. Of course we put it back. Thatâs exactly the kind of fuckoff attitude that humanity has. And, you know, itâs REALLY HARD to propagate the Holy Thorn; you canât grow it from seed; most cuttings seem to revert to normal hawthorn trees that bloom normally, once a year in the spring. Itâs really tricky to capture that transient, fleeting, pointless mutation - the holiness of it. Think of the rebel gardeners in the 1650s - almost 400 years ago - ferociously and secretly and scientifically nurturing the grafts and saplings of this finicky, impossible plant. Humanity.
Holy Thorns have variously occupied Wearyall Hill since then. They all bloomed twice a year, once in midwinter.
in 2010, someone attacked the Holy Thorn on Wearyall Hill. A vandal. This person chopped all the branches off.
Oh, how people mourned. They wrapped ribbons around the tree, decorated its cage, prayed to the goddess, did weird dances, cursed the vandal on Facebook, etc. etc. It was ineffective, but showed how passionately humanity cared for the holy trees. Christians, pagans, witches, biologists, everyone was PISSED OFF.
And the vandal returned, again and again, and destroyed the new growth. The vandal killed the Holy Thorn. And just a few days ago, in May 2019, the landowner finally uprooted the dead tree on Wearyall Hill.
What would you call that? Two bursts of singular and specific evil, in more than four hundred years of recorded history? Would you call that humanity? âOh, humanity! Ugh, how disgusting! These two tiny events in the landscape of history definitely confirm how correct I am to sneer at my own species.â Or would you see the best of humanity in every living Holy Thorn? In the ones that bloom, twice a year, in churches and schools and private gardens around Glastonbury? In the mad, impossible ones that bloom twice a year in New Zealand and Australia? Where do you center your humanity? I know where I center mine.
There are dozens of Holy Trees. Many cultures have them. I just know the Thorn myself because I watched it all go down. But there are Holy Trees everywhere.
And I am here for the Holy Trees, and the people who graft them and save them, and who roar and grieve for them, and plant them again. Thatâs humanity. We are the ones who name the trees. We are the ones who find out their secrets. We are the ones who make them holy.