2017-01-04

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Love Begins

shark vs the universe
Sweet Seals For You, Always

if i look back, i am lost
NASA
d e v o n
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taylor price
art blog(derogatory)
Jules of Nature
Not today Justin
Mike Driver
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Xuebing Du
wallacepolsom

ellievsbear
cherry valley forever

PR's Tumblrdome
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@optimisticgalaxynightmare
2017-01-04
cassie cain is special amidst bruce's children bc he didn't give her those daddy issues she came w them preinstalled
bruce can do an unfathomably bad job at parenting her & he's still the better option. this is huge for him. no wonder it goes to his head
I am begging you, please show me the most ridiculous photo you have of your birds
Here’s Toto’s
Newt’s:
deeply unserious animal
During a 300 mile house move. Please note the plentiful, stable perches just out of frame; each with a miniature sprig of millet near them, and each entirely unoccupied for the majority of the journey 👍
They’re cosplaying chimney swifts
thinking “what if we all had animal sonas for a bit that’d be a fun drawing exercise” and hearing a cacophony of noise punctuated with the guy who claims to have been asleep several hours ago going “well I’m not a furry but you KNOW I said ages ago I’m claiming coyote if we do this” . Okay dude relax no one’s taking it from you.
Saint Vincent Amazon (Amazona guildingii), family Psittacidae, order Psittaciformes, endemic to the island of St. Vincent in the Caribbean
Vulnerable.
photograph via: Naturalist Journeys, LLC
world heritage post: avatar femslash fans on livejournal discussing the possibility of a lesbian or bi lead in the legend of korra in 2010, 2 years before the series first aired. four years later, korra and asami walked into the spirit world together holding hands.
happy korrasami day!
This is the diametric opposite of "we popping the biggest bottles when Makorra happens"
from what i've observed, i do think there is some pressure for women in not explicitly feminist leftist circles to affect a kind of "cool girl" posture for the benefit of the men in the movement
same as it ever was!!!
someone mentioned neil gaiman in one of the replies to this and i think this is a good opportunity to remind people that there are certain kinds of predatory men (like neil gaiman) who insinuate themselves into progressive spaces by learning the “appropriate” language and social codes primarily in order to put themselves in proximity to women and other vulnerable people who view them as “safe.” i think misogyny/sexism/rape apologia in leftist spaces is much larger of an issue than just this (as there are men in those spaces who are not actively malicious but who have unexamined patriarchal outlooks that bleed into their beliefs and behavior) but i do think it’s important to point this out and to remind people to be on their guard.
Long ago, in the 80s, when everyone not watching The Cosby Show on Thursday nights was recording it and watching Magnum, P.I., they aired an episode in which the oldest girl was seeing two guys, one ordinary guy and one who went out of his way to express feminist sentiments. She was favoring the ordinary guy and Cliff was pulling for the guy with the feminist sentiments, as he was very ambitious for his oldest daughter, until Clair pulled him aside to tell him to back off and stop meddling in his daughter's life: "Did you ever stop to think that he might be a bushwhacker?" She defined a bushwhacker as someone who said all the proper feminist things until he nailed you down and then pulled the rug out from under you and started demanding his dinner and ten children.
The point was that a guy who screwed up but had honest conversations and was willing to work with you on making things work for both of you was likely to be more trustworthy than someone who talked too good a game because he'd studied up in order to manipulate; and that they needed to trust their daughter's judgement and let her live her own life, standing ready to help her if she did make a mistake in choosing a relationship.
When Cosby's crimes came to light, I couldn't help wondering whether someone in the writer's room was trying to slip a warning past the network and all the forces in the industry conniving to cover things up.
new kind of guy dropped
he's unironically 100% correct and i will hear nothing against him
what the ideal soundscape looks is somewhat subjective, but he’s 100% correct about their importance.
even aside from certain soundscapes being overstimulating, overwhelming, and deeply exhausting for neurodivergent people, noise pollution is a real phenomenon, and studies have shown it can have negative health effects (even in certain cases where you can’t hear the noise pollution due to it being infrasound).
the most noticeable effects are obviously from big industrial sounds, but even if just an electronic hum or sharp beeps bother you and you hear them all the time, every day, it can put you on edge. it might seem small and inconsequential, but even the little things can add up.
there’s also a reason so many meditative and holy spaces cultivate serene soundscapes with things like thick walls, open spaces, and bells/gentle chimes.
Your environment can have an effect on your state of mind, positively or negatively, so it makes sense that taking some control over them and designing them with intentionality could be beneficial
If you don't believe this is true:
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1364032122006852
It's one of the main reasons people are against wind farms.
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0196070925000146
There's a distinct correlation between having tinnitus and an increased risk of depression and anxiety.
Bad noise can literally make people sick.
The only thing I remember of the dream I had last night was reading a book that I found at someone's place, just randomly opening it from the middle and starting to read from the middle of the scene.
It was historical fiction, roughly central Europe, I suppose somewhere around the 1300s-1600s, just depicting a scene of the protagonist, who was some sort of a knight, nobleman or such, sitting outside a tent at a campsite watching this kid, a boy of seven or eight years old, do chores in front of the tent fixing his stuff. A squire or servant of some other sort, specifically here just to do work for the protagonist.
And in the scene it's cold, just at the end of autumn when there's no snow yet but it feels like there ought to be, frost on tips of blades of dead grass that makes everything look like silver and sanded glass, with peoples' and horses breath fogging up into visible clouds. And he watches this kid work with no proper coat or anything, hands red and stiff from the cold, and he feels bad for this kid.
So he goes "boy, it's cold as shit in here. Get over here and keep me warm." And the kid puts down whatever he was working on and does as he's told, comes to sit on his master's lap and gets wrapped into his cloak. And the kid is cold as shit and his clothes are damp around the edges and this is extremely uncomfortable for the protagonist here in particular, but he could at least let the kid warm up on himself, while also maintaining the dignified facade of "I don't give a shit about you and you are here purely for my convenience".
So I was reading that and thinking "damn I gotta remember the name of this book and find it later" and then waking up, I remember that not only do I not remember the name of the book or the author, I know for certain that it doesn't exist at all.
>:C
loving the lord of the rings so far
Why Is It Always the Jews?
I watched Morocco lose to France in the World Cup quarterfinal with the same mixture of pride and disappointment that millions of Moroccans around the world felt. We wanted to keep dreaming. We wanted our team to keep making history. Losing hurt.
What I did not expect was what happened after the final whistle.
Within hours, videos began circulating from cities across Europe. Instead of grieving a football defeat, crowds were chanting, "Hamas," calling for the murder of Jews, and reviving slogans that belonged in humanity's darkest chapters, not in the streets of democratic societies.
As a Moroccan Muslim, I felt something deeper than disappointment.
I felt shame.
Not because Morocco lost a football match. Every team loses eventually. I felt shame because a small but visible minority turned a sporting event into another excuse to express hatred toward people who had absolutely nothing to do with the game.
France scored two goals.
The Jews did not.
Yet somehow, once again, the anger found its way to the same destination it has found for centuries.
That should disturb every decent human being.
Let me be clear from the beginning. The overwhelming majority of Moroccan supporters simply mourned the defeat, congratulated France, and went home. They represented the values of sportsmanship and dignity that I recognize in my own country.
But the fact that only a minority engaged in antisemitic chants does not make the phenomenon less alarming. It makes it more revealing.
Because this was never about football.
Football was simply the latest excuse.
The more I thought about those images, the more one question refused to leave my mind.
Why is it always the Jews?
History offers the same pattern again and again.
When economies collapse, someone blames the Jews.
When pandemics spread, someone blames the Jews.
When political leaders fail, someone blames the Jews.
When wars begin, someone blames the Jews.
When conspiracy theories flourish, Jews somehow become the hidden hand behind every event.
Now, apparently, even the outcome of a football match becomes another opportunity to direct hatred toward the world's smallest religious minority.
As someone who has spent years building bridges between Muslims and Jews, I have learned that antisemitism rarely begins with facts. It begins with convenience.
Blaming Jews is easier than confronting corruption.
Easier than questioning failed leadership.
Easier than examining extremism within our own societies.
A scapegoat is always simpler than self-reflection.
That is why antisemitism has survived for centuries despite constantly contradicting itself.
Jews have been accused of being powerless outsiders and all-powerful insiders.
They have been blamed for capitalism and for communism.
For globalization and for nationalism.
For war and for peace.
The accusations change with every generation, but the target remains remarkably consistent.
As a Moroccan, this troubles me for another reason.
Our country has a unique history. For centuries, Muslims and Jews built Morocco together. Jewish communities were not strangers in our homeland; they were part of its very foundation. They contributed to our commerce, our music, our diplomacy, our crafts, and our culture. Morocco's identity cannot honestly be told without them.
That is precisely why I refuse to remain silent when Jews become the convenient target for frustrations that have nothing to do with them.
Silence is never neutral.
History has taught us where silence leads.
The Holocaust did not begin with extermination camps. It began with words that many people dismissed as harmless. It began with lies repeated so often that they started sounding reasonable. It began when ordinary people convinced themselves that blaming Jews required no evidence at all.
Every generation believes it is different.
Every generation imagines its hatred is justified by new circumstances.
But hatred does not become noble simply because it finds a new excuse.
As a Moroccan Muslim, I believe my faith calls me to stand against injustice regardless of who the victim is. My patriotism calls me to defend the best traditions of Morocco, a country whose history demonstrates that Muslims and Jews can share not only neighborhoods but also a common national identity.
That is why the scenes that followed Morocco's defeat mattered.
Not because they revealed something about Jews.
They revealed something about us.
The question the world should be asking is not what Jews supposedly did to deserve another wave of hatred.
The question is why humanity keeps searching for reasons to blame the same people generation after generation.
Until we answer that honestly, the excuse will keep changing.
The target never will.
local matchmaker losing it over yet another unrealistic demand from the clientele 🤣🤣
Translation by me. :))
“Even a slightly increased possibility of summoning rain is still an ability to summon rain” is such a good point
Why not find a Jewish man? We can control the weather 🤫
But do any of them have the character for "water" in their names?
the character in question is said 'shuǐ', so I can imagine some hebrew names could be sinofied to include it.
5 0 Y E A R S A G O
Happy Moon Landing Day! ❤️👩🚀🌛
And then you can’t even say shit about bc people start trying to put you in a jacket and shit. Like omg it’s so strict???
I'm in such a good place but it still sneaks up on me sometimes and I'm like, come on brain that is super unhelpful and I'm not doing that today.
our server's weekly movie voting rules
War has changed.
A master to his action-hero trainee says, "Your movements are sloppy. You lack awareness of your body when you fight. Your hands move and yet you do not hold them in your mind's eye. Come. We will remedy this."
And then the master paints his trainee's fingernails and orders the trainee to complete a series of complicated tasks without smudging the nail polish.
Trainee grumbles that this is stupid when the first set of tasks is just cleaning the dojo. Within two minutes he reaches for the dustpan and knocks the edge of his pinky nail against it in a way he's never noticed before. He's staring at the baby blue smudge and suddenly he understands things differently.
There's a montage of days passing as he fetches water, chops wood, hoes crops, washes clothes. His nails are a different color during each cut. He's sprinting up the mountain with a fresh wet pedicure and the master is nodding in approval. The master's nails are flawless tech art.
He's reached his final assessment and it's a sparing match against his master. The air smells of acetone. His and the master's nails are all freshly painted. He must land a blow on the master with his mani and pedi fully intact.
Suns and moons pass. Streak in the ring finger. Smudge on the pinky. A full-handed block at the cost of three nails of paint. A hit on his master, and he hoots in delight until the master points out the unguarded toe whose polish is now streaked across the master's robe.
Days pass in frustration and exhaustion. By day 40, he has every digit of his acutely in his mind's eye. He senses the master's attack, ducks, dodges, all fingers all toes all himself, aware, and he strikes with his wooden sword.
It connects with the master. The master pauses. The trainee raises his left hand into view--5 digits of flawless sunflower yellow. His left foot. His right foot. And finally his right hand, raised in triumph.
The master smiles. "You have passed. I have just one more technique to teach you."
The technique is how to draw little flowers into the nail art. So really this one is optional.
These posts contain 146 horses (49.1% of the post)
🍎 @phantomrose96
A master to his action-hero trainee says, "Your movements are sloppy. You lack awareness of your body when you fight. Your hands move and yet you do not hold them in your mind's eye. Come. We will remedy this."
And then the master paints his trainee's fingernails and orders the trainee to complete a series of complicated tasks without smudging the nail polish.
🍎 @phantomrose96
Trainee grumbles that this is stupid when the first set of tasks is just cleaning the dojo. Within two minutes he reaches for the dustpan and knocks the edge of his pinky nail against it in a way he's never noticed before. He's staring at the baby blue smudge and suddenly he understands things differently.
🍎 @phantomrose96
There's a montage of days passing as he fetches water, chops wood, hoes crops, washes clothes. His nails are a different color during each cut. He's sprinting up the mountain with a fresh wet pedicure and the master is nodding in approval. The master's nails are flawless tech art.
🍎 @phantomrose96
He's reached his final assessment and it's a sparing match against his master. The air smells of acetone. His and the master's nails are all freshly painted. He must land a blow on the master with his mani and pedi fully intact.
Suns and moons pass. Streak in the ring finger. Smudge on the pinky. A full-handed block at the cost of three nails of paint. A hit on his master, and he hoots in delight until the master points out the unguarded toe whose polish is now streaked across the master's robe.
Days pass in frustration and exhaustion. By day 40, he has every digit of his acutely in his mind's eye. He senses the master's attack, ducks, dodges, all fingers all toes all himself, aware, and he strikes with his wooden sword.
It connects with the master. The master pauses. The trainee raises his left hand into view--5 digits of flawless sunflower yellow. His left foot. His right foot. And finally his right hand, raised in triumph.
The master smiles. "You have passed. I have just one more technique to teach you."
The technique is how to draw little flowers into the nail art. So really this one is optional.
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oh my god........................ the hornses.......... 🐴