Madame DeLyte @madamedelyte - Tumblr Blog

nemfrog

A youth discovers he has butterfly wings. Les Belles images. November 28, 1912.

Gallica

cherryjams

‘Hands weaving magnetic-core memory, IBM, Poughkeepsie, New York,’ 1956. Photograph by Ansel Adams.

bladespark

My mother used to make computer cores as a "work from home" side business. As a child I got spending money via un-winding the ones that failed testing so that the magnetic center could be re-used. I got between $0.05 and $0.25 per core depending. Mom got more for the finished ones, of course, though I don't know how much. Her sister was an expert, and did the more complicated kind, some of which ended up in satellites and/or were used by NASA!

They were all done by hand using a kind of treadle-operated frame with a little (crochet!) hook to pull the wires around the cores. The people making them were mostly housewives who did this as a side-job in the 80s and 90s. I don't know if it's still done that way anywhere in the USA today, but the history of computing and space exploration is littered with "women's work" like this.

agpsoundsystem

marxism-leninism-utenaism

duckbunny

remember when websites were written on purpose, and not generated by autocomplete in the instant you run the web search? anyway, unrelated, this webpage purporting to relay expert knowledge on which plants are safe for my snake's tank just told me I would know if he was biting them and getting irritated because he would start pawing at his mouth.

tarragonthedragon

i mean, that sure would be a sign something was wrong

duckbunny

the plant that makes you grow extra legs

hometoursandotherstuff

We thought that these were boat stairs, but it turns out that they are stairs in a youth hostel.

despazito

flowerytwats

one time i was very drunk in a pub garden and i turned around and saw this

it was over 7 foot tall

tsakmaster

this is just what life is like in britain btw

lesbianshepard

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

lesbianshepard

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 “what the hell here goes nothing”

celtic-pyro-deactivated20230725

key--lime--pie

I’m pretty sure they also identify human remains by taste. Archaeologists are straight up freaks.

notaflippinmermaid

No, no no… you identify bone from rock or other substances by touching it to your tongue. If it sticks, it’s bone. The taste itself has nothing to do with it. And most archaeologists won’t lick human bones if they know they’re human.

…and I realize that doesn’t actually do much to prove archaeologists aren’t freaks.

midnightmindcave

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

dinosauriaawesome

I’m sitting with a bunch of archaeologists and we just laughed so hard we CRIED we’re getting tshirts with this on them

thesaltofcarthage

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.

wholesome-dragon-lady

If I ever don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead and archaeologists are licking my bones.

saulwexler

Hey did you draw that evil feminist caricature to warn men how their wives would act once they got the right to vote? Illustrator: sure did boss. real sexy, just like you asked.

spirit-of-art

Léon Spilliaert, The Absinthe Drinker, 1907

please-be-nice-im-sensitivee

I, for one, like Roman numerals.

slowlikehoney1996

If your lover lives in Hong Kong and cannot get to Chicago, it will be necessary for you to go to Hong Kong. Perhaps you will spend your life there, and never see Chicago again. And you will, I assure you, as long as space and time divide you from anyone you love, discover a great deal about shipping routes, airlines, earthquake, famine, disease, and war. And you will always know what time it is in Hong Kong, for you love someone who lives there. And love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time and, furthermore, to win.

James Baldwin, Nothing Personal

arabella-strange

damn the full passage is incredible

destiel-news-channel

[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'JK Rowling posted upskirt photos of a woman on Twitter' to Cas 'I love you'. /End ID]

No one doing this should be allowed to call themselves a feminist.

The wealthy author escalated a social media spat that resulted in posting a photo from a 2023 event at the Institute of Economic Affairs in

solarishashernoseinabook

Let's not beat around the bush: Children's author JK Rowling sexually harassed someone. In some jurisdictions, this would count as sexual abuse. JK Rowling has committed a sex crime against a woman and fell back on the old rape apologist standby of "she was asking for it".

I hope your nostalgia is worth it

bowlby4

byjove

Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*

My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.

cryoverkiltmilk

The spiritual successor to Miette

manicgoblinnightmarewoman

Might I also add

shydestinybread

May i add the piece from artist Verbal Vomit

unyanizedcatboys

Glad to see we’re all in agreement that cats talk like disparaged victorian children

explorerrowan

I am so incredibly glad we finally moved on from "i can has". Cats are clearly smart enough for advanced sentence structure and dumb enough to draw entirely incorrect conclusions about what they're talking about.

dualclock

My cat, banging the cabnet door over and over and over: bang bang bang

Me: you will not earn what you desire by banging the cabinet door.

My cat: This is a test of wills, is it not? We shall see if your ability to put up with my incessant banging outlasts my eternal lust for snackie treats. Years of conditioning have hardened me for this purpose. bang bang bang

Me: ksst!

My cat, throwing herself to the ground like she's been shot: Oh! Oh I have been assailed in my own home! Have mercy, have pity! Surely in the cruel darkness of your heart there is some mote of goodness that might stay your hand! Do not strike me, I pray you!

Me: ok

My cat, after waiting about 3 minutes: bang bang bang