No title available
Today's Document
DEAR READER
Mike Driver
trying on a metaphor
Sweet Seals For You, Always
todays bird
Not today Justin
if i look back, i am lost
tannertan36
d e v o n
$LAYYYTER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
we're not kids anymore.
untitled
almost home
taylor price
pixel skylines
Cosmic Funnies
No title available
seen from Netherlands
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@playcloudring
you’re not allowed to wear a cotton t-shirt unless you’re a true fan! do you go to the fields and look at it? do you appreciate the agricultural implications of a gigantic cotton industry? do you understand the harvesting process? name 5 cotton harvesting machines. didn’t think so
THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY BABY'S GENDER REVEAL PARTY!
Thank you for coming to my baby’s gender reveal party! I can’t wait to share the precious moment when I find out whether this bundle of joy I’m carrying is a little ballerina or a little truck driver. I am just so excited to talk about my future child’s genitalia with 30 of my closest friends and acquaintances! You know me and my hubs Andy. We’re obsessed with being extra and we’re never going to settle for just an ordinary gender reveal party. We’ve had a cake prepared that’s either pink or blue, based on whether our child is a Little Man or a Little Miss. First, I will cut into the cake and show a slice. If it’s a Boy, the cake will be blue, because blue is Boy! Blue is color of Boy things, like the sky, which is where the Air Force lives. Pink is color of girl, because girl things like flowers and laundry mistake. We’re not stopping there. After the cake, Andy is going to use a crossbow to shoot 12 wild rabbits that he bought at a store where you get food for large snakes. Each guest will then take one of the dying rabbits into her hands and look under the tail. If the dead rabbit is (was) a girl, our baby will be a little fashionista. If the rabbit has a little penis? Our lovebug will grow up to be a doctor or other type of Man! This is a party for adults, so feel free to get a little naughty. There’s nothing that makes me feel like making fun dirty jokes then thinking about my unborn child’s Boy or Girl pubic mound! We’re going to play a twist on “pin the tail on the donkey,” and you’ll either stick penises or vaginas on a picture of my ultrasound. We’ll be using glue that’s made from either Boy or Girl racehorses. This grown-up game will be made even more fun by the fact that we will be eating gourmet ice cream cones that are either flavored like Boy (scotch with a fun spicy touch of hot sauce) or Girl (nothing). Can’t wait to meet our Little Heartbreaker or our Little Slut! I never knew this before getting preggo, but there are a lot of rules for Girl or Boy! There are many things that are Boy. Boy is Blue, dog, numbers, fireman (even though fireman Red, it is Boy), hair (coarse), shape of ball like soccer ball, bricks, glass, buildings, car, sharp. Girl is Pink, cat, hair (soft), shape of square like purse, skin, boat, dry. I know it’s a lot to remember but look, I don’t make the rules! (The person that make the rules is Boy.) Andy and I love our traditional gender roles. He makes the money and cuts down the trees because Boy, and I am House for baby. Andy loves to make me eat vitamins so the House will be nice for Baby. Each vitamin is like a gift I give my baby’s House! I can’t wait to see what job my baby have. If Boy, maybe Racecar Scientist, Ambulance Lifter, or Priest Batman. If Girl, only job option is House or Lesbian. Even I don’t know what our baby is! When ultrasound technician which was weirdly Girl told Andy what gender our baby was, I told him I didn’t want to know. Andy was able to keep a stoic face when Girl Technician told him Boy or Other One! He was completely deadpan except for one tiny body language thing, where his mouth said “now our baby can’t be Blacksmith.” Andy is so good at keeping surprises! I hope our little bundle of joy looks just like him when grows up to be Ice Fisherman Man. Thank you all for sharing this day with us. I can’t wait to start this family with my sweet Andy. We will be the perfect Dad and House. But just remember: I will love my baby no matter what, whether it decides to be Lumberjack Surgeon or just normal Umbrella Girl On Salt Container. In the end, it does not matter! Whether Boy or Girl, my baby can do anything, like wear a pant or do computer. After all, Boy or Girl, my baby still White.
Tombstones of Ancient Roman Dogs
Aeolidis tumulum festivae cerne catellae, quam dolui inmodice raptam mihi praepete fato.
Behold the tomb of Aeolis, the cheerful little dog, whose loss to fleeting fate pained me beyond measure.
Raeda[r]um custos numquam latravit inepte. nunc silet et cineres vindicat um- bra suos.
This guard of the coaches never barked unsuitably. Now he is silent and his shade protects his ashes.
Quam dulcis fuit ista quam benigna quae cum viveret in sinu iacebat somni conscia semper et cubilis o factum male Myia quod peristi latrares modo si quis adcubaret rivalis dominae licentiosa o factum male Myia quod peristi altum iam tenet insciam sepulcrum nec sevire potes nec insilire nec blandis mihi morsib(us) renides.
How sweet and friendly she was! While she was alive she used to lie in the lap, always sharing sleep and bed. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! You would only bark if some rival took the liberty of lying up against your mistress. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! The depths of the grave now hold you and you know nothing about it. You cannot go wild nor jump on me, and you do not bare your teeth at me with bites that do not hurt.
Portavi lacrimis madidus te nostra catella, quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus. ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis osculla mille nec poteris collo grata cubare meo. tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem et iunxi semper manib(us) ipse meis, morib(us) argutis hominem simulare paratam; perdidimus quales, hei mihi, delicias. tu dulcis, Patrice, nostras attingere mensas consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos, lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus, accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter
Bedewed with tears I have carried you, our little dog, as in happier circumstances I did fifteen years ago. So now, Patrice, you will no longer give me a thousand kisses, nor will you be able to lie affectionately round my neck. You were a good dog, and in sorrow I have placed you in a marble tomb, and I have united you forever to myself when I die. You readily matched a human with your clever ways; alas, what a pet we have lost! You, sweet Patrice, were in the habit of joining us at table and fawningly asking for food in our lap, you were accustomed to lick with your greedy tongue the cup which my hands often held for you and regularly to welcome your tired master with wagging tail.
Source: Electronic Archive of Greek and Latin Epigraphy
As HRC continues to work toward justice and equality for transgender people, we mourn those we have lost.
Here are the faces of transgender Americans who lost their lives facing transphobic violence this year. Let us never forget them!
Christa Leigh Steele-Knudslien +
Viccky Gutierrez +
Celine Walker +
Tonya Harvey +
Zakaria Fry +
Phylicia Mitchell +
Amia Tyrae Berryman +
Karla Patricia Flores-Pavón +
Nino Fortson +
Sasha Wall +
Gigi Pierce +
Antash’a English +
Diamond Stephens +
Cathalina Christina James +
Keisha Wells (no photo) +
Sasha Garden +
Vontashia Bell +
Dejanay Stanton +
Shantee Tucker +
Londonn Moore +
Nikki Enriquez +
Video Clip SS218421 (Tardigrade Walking Through Algae)
Tardigrade (Hypsibius dujardini) walking through algae, microscope view.
Tardigrades are commonly known as water bears or moss piglets. They are found in practically every habitat on Earth, from hot springs to beneath ice sheets, and are renowned for their toughness.
See More Tardigrade Videos
Experiments have shown they can survive being frozen to nearly absolute zero and heated to 150 degrees Celsius. They have survived pressures of more than 6000 atmospheres, and have survived after prolonged exposure to the vacuum and radiation found in space.
In unfavorable conditions they can dehydrate to 1% of their normal water content and remain alive in stasis for over a decade. In more normal conditions, they prefer moist environments where they feed on algae and bacteria.
This tardigrade is often used as a model organism in biological research, and its genome is being sequenced.
© Sinclair Stammers / Science Source
“It is the cabbage which surpasses all other vegetables.” - Cato the Elder
Proudly growing cabbages is such a Roman mood, even for emperors I guess
I think the most underrated magazine in my collection is Progressive Grocer “The National Magazine Of The Grocery Trade” which somehow had consistently amazing cover art by Emmett Watson https://pulpcovers.com/tag/progressivegrocer/
Man shoots ex-wife, murders their three young children and two others
A Texas mom grieved on Facebook Live Wednesday afternoon from her hospital bed after a shooting that left her injured and five other people dead including her three children and two men. One of the men was the shooter.
The Denton County Sheriff’s Department is investigating the shooting that happened at a home in Ponder, TX.
Speaking to family and friends on a public Facebook Live from her hospital bed, the sole survivor and mother Amanda Simpson said her ex-husband Justin Painter was the shooter.
Through tears and with a bullet still lodged in her shoulder, Simpson said, “I’ve relived it over and over and every time I close my eyes, I see my babies… I see them dead. Every time I close my eyes, you don’t want to know what I see…”
Simpson said that she’s angry with the judge who handled her divorce, and that she had warned the court Painter was mentally unstable.
“I made it very clear to the judge that he was mentally unstable. And they didn’t listen. So now, I don’t have my babies,” said Simpson.
http://baltimore.cbslocal.com/2018/05/17/mom-grieves-from-hospital-bed-facebook-live/
#me #hardtimes #yayRamadan
NASA scientists flying over the arctic earlier this month spotted strange shapes out the window, but they aren't sure what caused them.
A strange formation appears in Arctic ice at 69.71° North and 138.22° West, about 50 miles northwest of Canada’s Mackenzie River Delta.
Except it's probably a seal it something, they just don't know what mammal specifically.
what would you tell to the people who cannot find the way to find their bodies at the way they are?
I THINK YOU SHOULD INSTEAD FOCUS ON PARTS OF YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CHARACTER THAT YO DO LOVE, I ALSO RECOMMEND THERAPY AND HEALTHY, BALANCED EATING, A LITTLE EXERCISE LIKE WALKING, AND SURROUNDING YOURSELF WITH GOOD PEOPLE.
#TheITCrow-ed
I weigh
Today is my 32nd birthday.
This is the best birthday I’ve ever had because I’ve woken up to thousands of women sending me pictures and messages about the things they love about their lives, and the things they have done that they are most proud of. This has been going on for days now.
I was scrolling through “explore” on Instagram (always a certified mine field for one’s self esteem) and came across this disastrously damaging picture.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A group shot of grown women with their respective weights posted across each of their bodies, and the post asking what we think of their weights and then asking its followers, “What do you weigh?”
WHO CARES? What kind of crazed toxic nonsense is this? What is this post trying to achieve other than to induce anxiety into young women about something so entirely irrelevant? What are we teaching women about our value? Can it be measured using a metric system? Why do so many posts like this exist on social media? How is anyone supposed to get through the fucking day happy with themselves when we are given such unreasonable and shallow goals to achieve, falling short of which, no matter who we are, what we do, how many lives we save, how many children we raise, how many people’s lives we touch, we are not worth anything.
I snapped. I am just done. I’m so done with seeing this and letting it pass me by. It’s so dangerous and disgusting. It’s so belittling and abusive. We are subliminally bullied all day by the magazines, the side bar of shame, social media, and by each other. The onslaught is so aggressive that we are going to have to retaliate with 10 times the strength to undo all of the damage to the global psyche of women. So I posted this:
A small ode to the brilliant life that I am so lucky to live, that I built by myself from scratch, to the friends I am so lucky to have and to my self worth. This is how I measure myself. What I did, how I made people feel and how much I have enjoyed myself. It has taken me 10 years to get to the realisation that I am worth more than the digits on a measuring tape. And more importantly, the push back against body shaming shouldn’t just be about how much we love our flaws, it should be about something that isn’t really about the body at all. Self acceptance is important. But we deserve more than acceptance. Let’s step as far away from the conversation about our bodies as possible and make acclaim, integrity, achievement, contribution to society and kindness: Values worth shouting about again.
I posted it on twitter, and within an hour women starting sending me their own ones. There were too many to keep track of. It happened so fast. The pictures were amazing. None of them were posed and filtered, nobody was contoured to within an inch of their life, or sucking anything in. It was women living their lives, writing down all of the things they were grateful for and proud of. All of the degrees they have, the babies they made, the cancer they beat or are fighting, their families they love, the disabilities they live with or help with, the relationships they have built, the companies they started. Just women waking up and remembering that they are valuable, and they do important, difficult, incredible things. Things that are more than just achieving the perfect lip liner, losing baby weight quickly or being able to EAT PIZZA WHILST SHOOTING A LINGERIE PHOTOSHOOT!!! WOWWEE!
Here are some of my favourites:
Women of every size and shape and age and background sent me their declarations of self love and clapped back at the shame they have been drenched in their whole lives. We are attacked by this beast our WHOLE DAMN LIVES. Bemused parents are writing to me that social media has their 8 year olds talking about diets and what they dislike about their tiny growing bodies. We are facing an epidemic of self hatred. Instagram while sometimes an amazing way for us to share, is in many ways, hurtling us at light speed towards the demise of what the suffragettes were building.
We lack focus because we are concentrating on the wrong things. Most of the women I know wake up much earlier than men to get ready, and spend much of their time and money on complete nonsense like manicures and pedicures, hair treatments, and waxing. Women bleach their bumholes. THEY BLEACH THEIR BUMHOLES. This is how far we have gone with our pursuit of perfection, that we are no longer satisfied with the natural colour of an area almost nobody in the world will ever see. We have to be thin, but with big breasts and bottoms, gravity free, spotless, hairless, ageless, light skinned but always with a year round sun kissed glow; we must be fun and eat pizza and drink beer but also completely cellulite free and we must all have tiny noses and enormous eyes and lips but with skinny faces, but our skinny faces must never look gaunt and old.
And after all this, and after all the work we do, that we do as much of as men, ON SUBSTANTIALLY fewer calories than we probably need, we get judged more and paid less anyway.
NO. I’m sorry but at some point something has to give. We have to object. We have to do it together. Rather than just complaining about it, lets fill the void of sense with some perspective and some regard for the lives we are so lucky to live. An education is a luxury and a beautiful thing, not afforded to millions of women in the world. Bringing children into the world and raising them to be happy and healthy and kind is a great achievement, that literally builds the world. Surviving illness and war and trials of mental health makes a warrior out of you. Fighting for the rights of those who have no voice is heroic and important. Reading and writing and filling yourself with knowledge makes you so much more fun to spend the day with. Travelling and being independent and supporting yourself is the sign of a woman in control of her life.
We spend our lives in pursuit of the approval of others when we don’t yet even really approve of ourselves. My opinion of me is now (and only very recently) the one that matters.
I was 15 when I developed an eating disorder. I existed on 400 calories a day for two years, I developed bed sores from my bones digging into my mattress and my periods stopped. I was literally killing myself trying to be accepted. It was when weekly tabloids were at the height of their success. Constant and overt fat-shaming decorated the front pages of every magazine with derogatory and bullying headlines. Celebrities caught unawares on the beach, often mid-air, with their fat rolls circled in red with arrows pointing at their “failures.” I’ll never forget seeing a picture of beautiful Renee Zellweger pictured walking down the street, barely a UK size 14, with the headline ‘TOO FAT FOR LOVE’, explaining why she was single. 17 years later I still have those words in my head. I remember in the 90s reading about Gwyneth Paltrow openly discussing how she eats naked to prevent over eating. I remember the rise of pro-anorexia blogs glorifying pictures of what we literally called “heroin-chic” - a look an entire generation actually aspired towards. One of an emaciated junkie. I remember thinking it didn’t matter that I had a full academic scholarship and that I had a job and good grades, a Grade 8 in piano and I was a good kid, because my hip bones didn’t jut out, I had a round face and my thighs were forever touching. I was taught nothing else mattered. And that my fat covered up my achievements. I am so, so aware of the damage the media does to a vulnerable mind.
I found this really sad old drawing I did of myself when I was 16, with what I felt I had to look like in order to be accepted by girls at school, and society in general.
Thankfully for me, I was (honestly) lucky enough to have been hit by a car two years later, shoved full of steroids for my severely damaged lower back, and i gained 70 lbs. I essentially gained a Spice Girl. It knocked some sense and perspective into me and I never deliberately hurt my body ever again. But had this not happened, I would probably be dead by now, or have been an obsessive, smoking, calorie counting gym junkie, devoid of self love. (Like so many of the talented and brilliant women I know and work with)
I can’t sit by and read the messages of self hatred that teenage girls send me, about how they hate themselves for not looking like Victoria’s Secret models. I can’t watch what happened to me, happen to them.
I hereby call out every newspaper run by a man that shames women about their appearance.
I hereby call out journalists who write passive-aggressive shaming articles about weight gain and congratulatory ones about women who lose weight.
I hereby MASSIVELY call out celebrities who don’t document what it takes for them to look the way they do. If you have had surgery, say something. If you have a strict diet and workout regime, say something. It is UNFEMINIST to push an image that was created in the fantasy lab of the patriarchy, essentially that of a sex doll, to other women, and pretend that it comes naturally to you, and that junk food and lying down in expensive hotel suites is what keeps you beautiful. You have a platform and have to use it responsibly.
I hereby call out the fashion industry for STILL after 10 years of being called out, perpetuating the idea that expensive clothing only looks good on stick thin, barely pubescent girls. (None of whom can afford your bloody clothes)
I hereby call out the women who troll other women online about their appearances.
I hereby call out the trolls that live in our own heads and eradicate all of our achievements and shower us in self-doubt and loathing.
In this uprising of female power we must realise we are being set absurd extra goals, thick and fast. The further we come as a gender, the more ridiculous the ideals we have to fulfil become. We are being distracted and exhausted and our eyes are being taken off the ball. Every minute you spend thinking about how thin or gorgeous you aren’t, is a minute you aren’t spending on growing your business or your life.
I’m not saying it’s not important to watch out for your health. I’m not saying your BMI isn’t something to pay attention to. I do think it’s important to try to be active and put good food into your engine. But I also think the shame and feeling of failure is what drives us to the unhealthy eating habits we acquire to “comfort” us when we feel inferior and depressed. It’s a catch 22.
And by all means take pride in your appearance. Enjoy your looks, and your clothes and your sex appeal, but don’t make it your number one concern and selling point. It can be in your top ten, but it should never, ever define you. It isn’t important. We aren’t supposed to all look the same. And nothing good ever comes of self hatred. It will never further you. It will always hold you back.
Please think of the things in your life that you are proud of, that fulfil you, that make you happy and write them down somewhere, and look at that list every time you feel that you are failing, or that your jeans are tight, or you have a chubby arm in a group photo of a night out, or when you watch a video of a Hadid eating pasta.
Please remember you have every right to be here, and your life is important and it is precious, and on your death bed you aren’t going to be thinking about your love handles.
I love women and we deserve so much more than this. We can do better. We have to.
We can win the revolution against shame.
PREACH.
Majestic nudibranch.
MAJESTIC SEA LLAMA
Every new country is interesting to visit once, though the real compliment is, as you say, to go a second time. I like to ascertain with my own eyes, what is, or is not worth seeing in it, whether it be better or worse than my own—how people set about being happy there, and how they succeed.
Catherine Sinclair, Shetland and the Shetlanders (1840)
It appears to me, that gigs all come to an untimely end. I never yet saw a newspaper, without one or two having run off, and if ever they are within reach of a precipice, they make a point of going over.
Catherine Sinclair, Shetland and the Shetlanders (1840)
A ruin is, of course, nothing without a sandwich.
Catherine Sinclair, Shetland and the Shetlanders (1840)
