haven’t posted art here in a long time but here’s a comic about old cities with long memories

titsay
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
DEAR READER
KIROKAZE

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Not today Justin
Misplaced Lens Cap
Keni
$LAYYYTER
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosimo Galluzzi
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

No title available
will byers stan first human second
dirt enthusiast

@theartofmadeline

Love Begins
seen from Canada
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
seen from Oman
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from Rwanda

seen from Ireland

seen from Malaysia

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@melyneedscoffee
haven’t posted art here in a long time but here’s a comic about old cities with long memories
I posted this as a joke and am cursed with every new addition.
But! I like that many of you have correctly noted that both sets of armor are perfectly serviceable AND have historical context. Geralt's leather armor isn't going to hurt him a bit, and the exaggerated muscle sculpturing IS 100% a hilarious design choice, but it's also one ancient cultures employed all the time. (Romans in particular loved this shit)
The problem with feminized tiddy armor that hugs each breast isn't that it's sexualized, but that it will kill you. Armor cupping each boob and having an indention in the middle of your chest means that any blow to the torso drives the mid-tit indention RIGHT INTO YOUR STERNUM. It's not decorative, it's arguably more dangerous than no armor at all. Meanwhile I'm looking at Geralt, and his flexible leather armor has minor intentions and is probably over a base plate, Roman style. He's not in danger he just wants to be cute.
Both Calenthe and Geralt are fully protected and you're doing amazing, sweetie.
Nothing will ever be as hilarious to me as discovering from bts interviews that Henry Cavill helped design that armor. That man knows what he’s about.
Don’t confuse my hatred of the hyperwealthy for jealousy over what they have. I don’t want a six figure sports car, or a 40 room mansion, or a gold leaf truffle wagyu steak dinner. I want redistribution of wealth that allows for infrastructural support of all citizens’ basic survival needs.
while i completely agree with this statement, i feel like there’s this disconnect between the common man’s desire to experience what life has to offer and the hyperwealthy’s desire to exploit the masses in order to hoard resources to the active detriment of others.
i want to experience driving a fancy sports car down a big open road, the top down and the wind blowing in my hair. i don’t want a garage of 20 sports cars that i never touch.
i want a nice, comfortable, tastefully decorated house that’s big enough for me, my family, my pets, my hobbies, and any friends i might want to invite over. i don’t want a megmansion with more space than i could ever possibly use, that i only own because i want my house to be bigger than someone else’s house.
i want to experience eating the best steak dinner that the culinary world can offer. i don’t want to eat gold, which has literally no flavor, just because i can.
i want to travel to different cities around the world, see beautiful places, experience different cultures, and meet interesting people. i don’t want to buy up swathes of land and push natives out so i can build my twelfth house in hawaii or greece or somewhere else i’ll barely ever visit.
i want to dress in nice, well-made clothes that represent my style and make me feel good about myself. i don’t want to carry a thirty thousand dollar handbag or rolex watch just because it costs thirty thousand dollars.
i want to be able to give my friends gifts, i want to be able to invest in causes that i believe in, i want to be able to buy myself things like books, art, electronics, theater tickets, and nice food without having to worry about how much it costs. i don’t want to buy elections or shoot myself into space.
the average person’s concept of luxury is so far removed from the hyperwealthy’s everyday life that the distance cannot even be measured in ways that we can comprehend.
so while of course it’s more important that we work towards everyone’s basic needs being met rather than achieving luxury for ourselves, you, an ordinary person, shouldn’t feel guilty just for wanting to experience exciting and comfortable things. life should not be unyielding drudgery.
Also?
I want to be able to go to a spa and do the whole head-to-toe facial and pedi and massage and steam room and whatever the fuck else it is you do in those places…
….and when the day is over I want the spa people to be able to go home to a nice house and have a nice dinner and book their own day at the spa, because they can afford that. On their days off I want them to be able to go to a museum or a play or take the kids swimming because they can afford to only work two or three days, rather than having four jobs to hold down the fort.
Those who do me a service are people. The basic recognition of that is more than the ultrawealthy can manage.
honest to god can’t stop thinking about this song about jeff bezos by philip labes (link takes you to his spotify). it’s such a good example of politically driven folk music.
Lyrics:
Jeff found a genie in a bottle Who said, “I can give you anything you ask” “You can have your wishes three And a million more for free It’s unlimited, just set me to the task.”
Well, Jeff thought a while, Said, “I want houses, “I want boats, I want fancy modern art, I want tickets to the Met, I want my own private jet, And a rocket into space just for a start.”
Well, the genie waved her arms and made it happen His every wish bolted from the blue And folks all over town grew enamored, gathered ‘round To admire the man whose wishes had come true
They said, “Let’s hear it for the man who has everything! By good fortune he’s been set so far apart.” “Yeah, let’s hear it for Jeff who has everything! ‘Cause his wishes are only at the start.”
Well, Jeff heard their shouts and he grew worried He said, “Everybody’s getting in my way.” The genie smiled as before, “You’ve got a million wishes more. You can even give a bunch of them away.”
Well, Jeff got confused and sorta quiet ‘Til he finally said, “I have just one wish more.” “I am satisfied, so I wish that you would die So you cannot grant wishes anymore.”
Well, the genie’s eyes got big and sad and shiny ‘Til she finally said, “Your wish is my command.” And with an effervescent sigh, she disappeared before his eyes And no wishes were ever granted there again
So, let’s hear it for the man who has everything! By good fortune he has set so far apart Yeah, let’s hear it for Jeff, who’s got everything! Every single fucking thing except a heart
(og comic from Hark, A Vagrant!)
stating to think there’s an inverse correlation between how good media is and how easily fandomizable it is 😁
good media should make you stare at wall for 2 hours instead of immediately starting shippings wars and coffeeshop au and slowburn fics
no no you’re not wrong but also
there’s a reason for this.
My personal theory is that if Media is REALLY good, there isn't really... space, if you will for fans to add or change perspectives on it. Too dense, too complete. Like how coral won't grow on plastic because it's too smooth
Whereas some half-baked hot garbage has got ALL KINDS of plot holes, incomplete characterization, warped timelines, missing worldbuilding and other Spaces for fans to colonize, like coral growing on a sunken battleship.
And then if a series just sucks too much, it's not fun to interact with at all, and people won't fandomize it because it's toxic. Like how coral won't grow on sunken piles of burnt-out tires.
I call this the Fandom Barrier-Reef Theory.
my fave thing about daniel radcliffe and elijah woods is that after playing a career defining pop culture icon level role at a young age, they just went “fuck it” and have exclusively taken the most bonkers ass parts imaginable. good for them
Some marriages are bad. Take for example the one between my parents, who married when they were both unhappy, messed-up, half-feral teenager
It’s about here, less than a quarter of the way through this terrible, ridiculous piece of writing, that I started thinking about exactly how profoundly my wife would have to have wronged me, how galactically and intractably miserable in my marriage I would have to be, before I could even consider doing this to her—taking to the pages of The New York Times to savage everything about her and tell the world that our marriage exists by the grace of my mercifully deigning to forget all of what I’ve just detailed at length to the largest print readership in the anglophone world
Albert Burneko was my favorite Deadspin writer, so please water your crops and feed your soul with his take on the Havrilesky essay. (Then go read Burneko's Batman Is A Corny Dingus and Superman Should Whomp His Ass, which is the finest piece of journalism ever created.)
This article—and this quote in particular—absolutely NAILS everything I disliked about the original piece. If you're telling the fucking New York Times how much your husband sucks, I don't think it's your generosity and forgiveness that's admirable, here.
I also vibe very strongly with this quote:
My wife is the best thing that ever came into my life. Marrying her is the best decision I ever made. Being married to her is by miles the part of my life I feel best about. I am closer to her than I am to anyone else; I like her more than I like anyone else; I trust her more completely than I knew a person could trust another; she is exciting and cool and I follow her around the house like a cat following a laser pointer.
“I do not wear feathers in my hair. I do not have a long “Indian name”. Yes, my last name is two words. Yes, it really is Iron Eyes. No, I cannot give you a name. I have never been on a Vision Quest. I do not speak to animals or spirits. I am not fluent in my own language. I am trying. I do not drink. I do not play basketball. Get that headdress off your head. You did not earn that. Those feathers were not gifts, nor were you in enough battles for them. Walking around with more feathers than Sitting Bull and Gall together. I do not know the Native that you know. My ancestors are Gall and Wanata. My name is Dakhota. My band is Hunkpapa Lakhota. My ancestors were warriors. Among the most fierce. No, I have not scalped anyone. But you are tempting me.”
— Frequently Asked Questions (via istamaza)
I came across this letter, which was sent from here in Dayton. (A relevant piece of history, though all we ever hear about here is the Wright Brothers.) It has a twist that totally invalidates any claims that slaves truly loved their masters. Excellent and articulate and bold - worth reading to the end.
In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdon Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdon — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family — responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated). Head over to Kottke for a brief but lovely little update about the later years of Jourdon and family. (Source: The Freedmen’s Book; Image: A group of escaped slaves in Virginia in 1862, courtesy of the Library of Congress.)
Dayton, Ohio, August 7, 1865 To My Old Master, Colonel P.H. Anderson, Big Spring, Tennessee Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin’s to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance. I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,—the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,—and the children—Milly, Jane, and Grundy—go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, “Them colored people were slaves” down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again. As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor’s visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams’s Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire. In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve—and die, if it come to that—than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits. Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me. From your old servant, Jourdon Anderson.
This deserves a billion notes.
Mr. Jourdon Anderson did not so much burn P.H. Anderson as douse him in liquid napalm and throw a match. And to have done it with such grace and courtesy? Sir. I think we know where your son got his “head for a preacher.”
Also, just in case anybody’s curious, I did the math. The back wages owed to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, in 2022, would come to $206,562.09, less doctor’s expenses and clothing as per Mr. Anderson’s suggestion. I have no idea what rate of interest might have been calculated in 1864 for kept-back wages, but visualcapitalist.com has a handy chart on US interest rates throughout history, and in 1869 was reporting a 4.9% interest rate (I’m not an economist but I’m pretty sure this means that was the inflation rate). If I’m correct in that statement, then the colonel would have been looking at another $10,121.54 in 2022 dollars, or $570 in 1864.
If you want to know what kind of wage loss that was, a bushel of corn–56 pounds, on average about 110 ears–was 49 cents in 1862. That’s $8.70 today, or almost 24,000 bushels of corn. Which, if you don’t want to do the math, is one million, three hundred and forty-four thousand pounds. Meals in the 1800s were smaller than today, but the average TV dinner today is 12 oz. Let’s round that up to a pound just to make my life easy. Seven people, three times a day, that’s 21 pounds. Eating just corn and similarly-priced foods–and there’s actually more wheat in a bushel than corn in a bushel, by four whole pounds, so he’d be getting even more bang for his buck that way–his back wages would serve 64,000 days’ worth of meals for his entire family. That’s over 175 years.
In other words: he was old enough to state 32 years of service and two probably-teenage daughters plus three younger children, meaning he was likely in his late 30s or early 40s. If he lived to the average lifespan for a man in the time–approximately 72 years–their back wages alone would have fed him, his wife, and his children, high-quality meals with fresh greens and plenty of meat and milk and dessert, for the rest of his life and following his children into adulthood.
Oh. Did I mention?
I didn’t put the calculated interest into that number.
He could feed his family for a hundred years and still have enough money to buy a new car.
Just in case you wondered why the South was so determined to keep their slaves.
A hundred years’ worth of food in stolen wages. For just two people.
And the son of a bitch who called himself their master had the audacity to ask them to come back.
same moment different angle
The bullet bandolier over the skirts is a look. 😌
love how even when the emperors are terrible and the senate is locked in a death struggle with them, almost nobody seems to think “huh, maybe we should go back to a republican form of government.” i mean it makes sense post-Crisis of the 3rd Century when the old republican institutions don’t really exist anymore, but even as late as Caracalla it seems like it would have been a viable option
senators thinking of themselves as temporarily embarrassed emperors ?
basically, yeah. like, you’d be forgiven for thinking that every single upper-class roman was a power-mad schemer angling to get themselves made emperor/their particular puppet made emperor, because once Commodus bites the dust and the army realizes they de facto control who is in charge, it becomes a goddamn free-for-all.
And it’s especially stupid that the praetorian guard is kept around as an institution (though it does get disbanded and re-formed entirely at least once) given that at their nadir they were literally auctioning off the job of emperor to the highest bidder.
Nvm the fact that the empire’s fiscal troubles are exacerbated by the fact that anytime somebody thinks of reining in military spending the legions get all revolty bc they don’t want their pay cut. It is truly astonishing that the Roman Empire managed to make it out the other side of the third century (mostly) intact, nevermind that it went on to survive in one form or another for a thousand years. And at no point in all that time did they seem to firmly settle on a clear legal mechanism of succession!
The logical end to all that would be Byzantine government. I read this hilarious AskHistorians post a while back:
[Transcript: So let’s say it’s around 1200 and your province has experienced pirate raids and you need to write to the Byzantine government to get it sorted out. Who do you write to? An obvious place to start would be the local admiral, titled the Droungarios. However, that title has generally fallen out of use, as has the similar title Droungarokomes. So you think for a moment and maybe try the Megas Droungarios, except there are no people with that title who actually command ships. Oh dear. Then you remember that in the 1090s, the title of Megas Droungarios was replaced as head of the Byzantine navy by the newly created title of Megaduke (yes, really), and he exists! So you arrange to meet the Megaduke, and he turns out to be a guy named Michael Stryphnos. He has never commanded a fleet in his life, and although he has been tasked with leading a land campaign to squash some rebels, he is incompetent and spends a lot of time wining and dining rather than fighting, so the Megaduke is a dead end. Eventually you write to your brother who runs the Byzantine treasury and find out that there is no Byzantine navy because all the titles of the navy have been used as honorifics and sold off to placate grumpy officials who didn’t support Emperor Isaac and they sold all the naval equipment to embezzle the money and nobody knows what to do about it.
That really happened, btw. This is what happened to Michael Choniates, archbishop of Athens, when he had troubles with bandits and pirates in his region. He was so unimpressed with the whole situation that he sent letters to central figures in the government telling them to get their shit together because at this rate the empire would fall apart in a matter of years. This included a strongly worded letter sent directly to the emperor, who seems to have entirely ignored it. The Fourth Crusade would prove Michael right a few years later.]
Link because I’m on mobile and the formatting is frustrating: https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/qpvlu4/comment/hjz2yip/
@zeldafan42
#plenty samurai disliked firearms#not cause they didn't like them#but cause they thought it gave peasants a way of fighting back#cause samurai was basically just a class#that's basically cops but not as formally and it was hereditary#so a lot of them were just assholes with a sword#and if you give Joe Average access to a rooty tooty point and shooty#suddenly he has a way to not be stabbed in the middle of the night by some guy with an overinflated ego (via @dashconbabyofficial )
it’s weird how many people still buy into the justifications that feudal ruling classes used to legitimize their power. Samurai and knights were no more chivalrous and honorable than emperors and kings were divinely ordained to sit on their thrones
Barbie in the newest movie looks like if Elsa from Frozen was in Mass Effect
Don’t ask me why I know this.
i thought this was a constable frozen edit
Apparently the plot for this movie is that all the stars are dying and barbie needs to find a way to stop the universe succumbing to a cold dark end which is honestly more terrifying than a lot of actual scifi
Barbie and the heat death of the universe
are you telling me that barbie STOPS the heat death of the universe?
i see that the barbie people have finally picked up on what stories little girls actually play out with their toys
My thoughts on the whole “make the internet child friendly” thing is that no one under the age of 18 should feel comfortable on the internet
If you are not a legal adult there are so many ways for you to be harmed through the internet, and the more comfortable minors feel the more at risk they are of being taken advantage of
When I was growing up at the beginning of the internet age I was constantly shown informational videos on how people could get my name and address from just a screen name, To Catch A Predator was on and showing all the ways adults posed as minors to trick them into being abducted, and even shows like Catfish on MTV were always there to remind you that if you did not already know someone in person you couldn’t be sure who they were online
For years I only went into sites geared towards kids and even then with strict rules on how to keep any identifying information out of my screen name and to never answer personal questions online. While YouTube existed, a large chunk of the videos didn’t involve peoples faces like almost all do now
When I got a tumblr at 16 I knew porn could come up at any time and I was cautious of how I used it because of that. People regularly scoffed at the idea of clicking a link you were sent in a message and who could be so dumb as to click one
I don’t want kids to feel safe on the internet because they aren’t, and people looking to take advantage of kids want them to feel comfortable. They want minors using their legal name, posting videos of their school, showing their face as they wear school sweatshirts. I’ve seen so many recent stalking cases that happened because the person used the Snapchat map feature that allowed people to see where they went and for how long every day
I think that it’s good to accept that kids exist on the internet and getting rid of some of the more horrific Wild West aspects is good (Chatroulette type situations, easy to stumble on beheading videos) but the amount that social media sites are telling people they’re safe for minors and said minors can let their guard down makes me very nervous. It is not difficult to film your 13 year old nephew for a TikTok, post it like it’s your own, then ask the other 13 year olds who like it where they go to school
And this is not me blaming Gen Z or calling them stupid, as I said the only reason I knew how to be safe was because the culture around me so heavily pushed all the tactics on how to be safe and what the consequences of not being safe were. Gen Z grew up with shows about how great is to be a successful teen vlogger, with child influencers, with teenagers who put their face and identifying information in Vines being tracked down and given prizes by Ellen DeGeneres. The entire culture they’re being brought up in is designed to tell them that being open online as a child isn’t just cool it’s a way to be successful and validated
So yeah I don’t want any site telling parents or their kids that it is a safe place for minors, that their information is being protected, or that none of the content can harm them
surely this is a good idea that doesn't have the capacity to end real fuckin badly
Bridges aren’t supposed to have weight restrictions on them. That is, they don’t come with weight restrictions on them when they’re new. So a bridge with a weight restriction on it is a sign that something has gone wrong and the bridge does not meet current standards.
The maximum weight that a vehicle is allowed to carry on the Interstate System per federal law is 80,000 pounds gross vehicle weight (with a max of 20,000 pounds per axle). That’s 40 tons. That limit applies to every inch of pavement, not just the bridges. Since this is a known cap, a new Interstate bridge will be designed to accommodate an 80,000 lb GVW load on it. You could say the bridge’s weight limit is 80,000 lb/40 tons but that doesn’t really have much meaning, because a load higher than that would be illegal to transport on public roads anyway, and the road leading up to the bridge has the same weight restriction. (In practice, the bridge doubtlessly will be designed to have a little bit of let to it just in case some idiot tries to squeak by a few hundred extra pounds.)
Now, note that that law applies to the Interstate System only, because the federal government only has a governing interest in the Interstate System (and other roads that together make up something called the National Highway System) because they partially fund it. Most long-distance roads are owned and funded by the states. The states could theoretically set lower standard weight limits and/or design bridges with lower weight limits...but in practice they don’t.
One, because all of that 80,000 lb GVW traffic on the Interstate system has to go somewhere when it exits the system.
Two, because a group called the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials (AASHTO, who are best known for picking the road numbers) maintains a catalog of standard components for making bridges that meet Interstate System requirements. Engineers are expensive on a per-hour basis, so if you can direct your engineer to use standard components and make a standard bridge, that’s a lot cheaper than having them design a bridge from scratch to go over the creek in Nowheresville. As a result, most new bridges meet Interstate standards and have an 80,000 lb GVW rating even if they aren’t on the Interstate system. (This is also why all new bridges kind of look the same, but we’re not worried about how boring the bridges are for the sake of this post.)
So a bridge only has an explicit weight limit if it has been damaged in some way (through failure to properly maintain it usually) or because it predates the application of Interstate System standards and the standard AASHTO bridges.
Older bridges often have other problems in addition to the weight limits: many older designs are what we call “fracture critical”, which means that if one component of the bridge fails the whole thing collapses. Modern bridge designs have redundancy designed into them so that if one beam fails the other beams will carry the load until the damaged beam can be replaced. Older bridges also often don’t meet other standards, like height (16 ft clearance) and width (12 ft per lane plus 14 ft for shoulders) requirements.
Biden isn’t advocating eliminating weight limits and letting it be a laissez-faire free-for-all where trucks can just go wherever they want. He’s advocating for replacing bridges that carry weight limits with new ones that don’t have them.
wow i got absolutely schooled thank you for all this this is really informative. i have learned so much
This is a great explanation of what the fuck Biden was talking about in his tweet. because I will freely admit that I also went ".......wtf?????" when I read it. So thank you.
Today I learned about civil engineering.
this genre of tweet is a million times worse than any kind of adult marvel or disney fan and im tired of people giving this any kind of legitimacy, you are never ever going to convince people to watch your criterion selection films by acting like this
honoring martin scorsese and saving cinema by watching cape fear on a 5” wide dim screen while constantly getting interrupted by the stewardess giving me ginger ale and the pilot giving ETA updates