šŖ¼
ojovivo
Mike Driver
sheepfilms
dirt enthusiast
JBB: An Artblog!
#extradirty
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if i look back, i am lost
Cosmic Funnies
$LAYYYTER
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
Keni
blake kathryn
Andulka
Today's Document
ellievsbear
Product Placement
Stranger Things
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@sarosenna
Oh dear, we are so sorry! Goncharov (1973) has resurfaced!? Usually clients are forbidden from contacting anyone from their old life, but really, how do you restrict a movie from doing that? Yes, it is quite true - we faked the death of a movie in 1973 and now look what happened... it was so challenging and we thought its new life of a side-character in the background of random crime shows was enough...
-Intern
don't infantilise yourself. you are not a child who needs an adult to make your decisions for you. you are a splendid and magnificent autocrat and you are consulting your trusted advisors. you are exercising great wisdom by inviting an expert to give their opinion before making your ruling. often the path of wisdom is to say "good morning, I'm trying to [perform task] and I have a question about [aspect], can you tell me who I should speak to for advice?" before you do it. sometimes the path of wisdom is to hire a plumber. there are times when you cannot do things for yourself but that doesn't mean you are not an adult. you don't need a grown-up. you need a specialist.
this has come up a couple of times so let me be really really clear:
the path of wisdom is sometimes to hire a plumber.
the path of wisdom is always to hire an electrician.
I think 1899 will really be my year
Feral Hearts
Two odd beings find tenderness, or a quiet kind of love that doesnāt need naming. What they find together may be love, or safety, or simply the relief of being seen. The world around them mirrors this truth: bones feed roots, insects thrive, and so-called unwanted beings persist. Nature does not reject them, and neither do they reject each other. There is no mistake here, only belonging. Everything exists exactly as it should. Prints: https://artofmaquenda.etsy.com/listing/4427468901/feral-hearts-print-wolves-nature
transfemininity and the allure of the artificial
i donāt think i want to be a robot, but i get it. i feel the draw bone deep. i Understand it.
i say i donāt want to be a robot and i think thatās true. i canāt quite picture myself as an it, i see my body as (mostly) my own, i wake up at home in my the flesh and in my blood.
i read something once that so many trans women feel like open wounds. and i feel it sometimes.. it can feel like thereās a gaping wound, empty and yawning, where a little girl should be. where a solid knowable self should be. sometimes it feels like if i ripped open my own chest there would be a hole where my womanhood should be, right next to my heart.
i dont think im a robot, but ill never be a ārealā woman to most people, and how can i be fine with that. iāve thought about this a lot.. and it makes me want to scream sometimes. i want to scream that i am real too, that just because i chose this body, this self, doesnāt make me less real. i want to scream that just because the hormones in my body are there on purpose doesnāt mean they pump through my blood any different. i want to scream that because i want to be, i am a woman.
but maybe.. maybe the way it becomes okay is by embracing the unreality of my womanhood, by embracing the artificiality of a body iāve molded for myself. i donāt think im a robot but donāt you understand the appeal of a body that is built and not born?
humans are creatures built to be social, we give our objects names and faces and histories, it is something we do as if on instinct. ādoesnāt that flower look happyā we say as if the process of creating energy could bring it joy. we look up at the clouds and say they look āsadā as if the collection of condensation has any will of its own. we look at biology and physics and the simple facts of existence that must be true and give it life, give it reality.
do you get it? do you understand what iām saying? when so often my self is reduced to the simple laws of its existence, its biology and physics and topography, why canāt i say that these facts look like a woman. so fuck it. i donāt think im a robot but why couldnāt i be? my body is artificial, my mind is malfunctioning, my statements have errors, i canāt quite seem to get the voice right, how can i be sure i am not one? how do i know that if i peeled back my skin i would not find metal casing over wires and pistons and gears.
i think for so many of us there is freedom in this choice. if i must be artificial let me engrave the metal of my chassis or guild the porcelain that covers my mechanical heart. if i must be unreal let my make my unreality my own. you say i am only the nature of my existence so let me show you a body stripped of that nature that is still me. there is liberation in creating a self that is so beautifully artificial, a body of metal or porcelain or plastic painted with flowers or left bare and exposed. a body that, like ours in this life, is one we make our own in a million little ways.
i do not think i am a robot, but if i looked under my skin and found sparking wire i would not be surprised.
Sumud, We Bear Witness
Sumud, we bear witness.
We watch through fish-eye lenses
The up-down rhythm of your ships
Sailing into the sunrise
In the 'red zone'. You say
It should be called orange.
Sunlight refracts off international waters
But the danger on the horizon is approaching.
The footage is giving me motion sickness,
So I turn the volume up
As I turn my eyes away for now.
We must bear witness.
I still keep listening:
The shushing, sloshing, slapping of waves
Against the hull. The wood creaks.
The wind is so loud, it is static through my speakers
And there is a chittering that sounds like birds,
Flying above, flying like the red-white-green
Flag on your mast in the breeze.
That flag, flying beside others:
Familia Madeira, Portugal. Alma, Britain.
I hear distorted conversations,
Too muffled to discern, taking place
Aboard the boats. You could be speaking
In any language: English, Spanish, Arabic.
Whatever works. We, the witnesses,
Intersperse our own tongues amongst the English
We use out of convenience to exchange information.
We share our own flags and locations
So all the world knows that the world is bearing witness.
TĆ¼rkiye. Aotearoa. So-called Australia. France.
The US. The UK. Canada. Israel.
As one part of the world sleeps, the other awakens.
We bear witness to the forty-four ships in your flotilla
As you leave your envoys behind.
The dockworkers in Genoa bearing witness
To the Italian envoy urging you to abort,
Ready to strike and shut down if need be.
The Colombian president calling for international law
As two of his citizens, two amongst your hundreds,
Traverse the sea, reaching not for safe harbour
But for a harbour where your cargo is in safer hands
Than the hands of the plunderers blockading aid.
Sumud, you are reaching out with all our hands
Because Palestine is begging the world to act,
And as you say ā 'when governments fail,
Ships set sail.' Reaching out to Rafah,
Jenin, Khan Younis, Nuseirat. We bear witness.
We bear witness to the convoys converging
From Italy, Spain, Greece, Tunis,
Civilian ships sailing whilst naval ships look on.
People acting whilst governments look on
And abandon civillians in an open-air prison.
Sumud, may your aid reach the two million
In need. May it do some good.
Sumud, we bear witness
Because we cannot bear to stand idly by
In a genocide. We bear witness to their crimes.
We bear witness as unwanted pop music blares
Through your radio speakers ā isn't the interference alone
A crime in itself already? We bear witness
As radio crackles through our speakers
ā 'did you hear mayday too?'
We bear witness as long as we can
ā 'we are ready to throw our phones overboard.'
Sumud, as you traverse the waves,
We wave that red-white-green
Flag. We shout through the streets.
We bombard it across your screens:
In our thousands, in our millions,
We are all Palestinians.
From the river to the sea,
None of us are free
Until Palestine is free.
autumntides
10h
"In the instance an employer makes an illegal request for a photograph as part of a job application, you may submit a complaint to the United States Equal Employment Opportunity Commission." Successful violation fee collections are paid partially to the one who suffered the violation, which in many cases exceeds a year of work at these shit jobs. There's only two weak points to a corporation, and those are in the budget and in the supply chain. Hit them where it hurts.
Fucking word.
Learn your rights!
AUTO REBLOG IN CASE YOU MISSED THIS THE 1ST TIME AROUND.Ā It is important to KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.
āi only like art that makes me feel goodā completely foreign and repulsive idea to me. i would rather die than live your life
One of the rare times where a comment section is delightful the moment I open it
WHO is putting yassified joker art onto my dash
is it any wonder so many americans donāt trust the world health organization
I saw this on Facebook and had to look it up. It really happened, albeit the details are different. From Homesteading Space: The Skylab Story:
"On the evening of MD-46, I finally played the trick that had been in work for over two month," said Garriott. "It even had the flight controllers puzzled for twenty-five years! My objective was to pretend that my wife, Helen, had come up to Skylab to bring us a hot meal, even though this was an obvious impossibility. Here is how the scheme worked. I recorded her voice on my small hand-held tape recorder before flight, pretending to have a brief conversation with a Capcom, with time gaps for his replies. The Capcom would be my only accomplice, but his role would be carefully disguised.
It was also necessary to have some recent event mentioned to validate the currency of the dialogue, so it would seem it could not have been recorded before fight. The short dialogue is printed below in its entirety. I knew that both Bob Crippen and Karl Henize were going to be Capcoms for Skylab, so they were brought into the planning, given the script and rehearsed on their timing. They kept the short script on a piece of paper in their billfolds, awaiting the right moment.
"For our flight in August-September, there would be many occasions of natural disasters involving forest fires or hurricanes, which would be widely known throughout the United States. So a few comments about one or the other were made on the tape. This led to four different scripts being recorded, one for each of the two Capcoms and one each for the two natural events. I would play the tape on the normal air-to-ground voice link with my wife's recorded voice and the Capcom would respond as if totally surprised by the female interloper."
Near the end of one period of voice contact Garriott said to the ground, "I'll have something for you on the next pass, Bob." Crippen replied, "Roger that, Owen." Then quietly and surreptitiously, he reviewed the brief script that had been in his pocket for all these weeks. Soon after coming into voice range, the ground heard this voice on the standard air-to-ground link:
Skylab (a female voice): "Gad, I don't see how the boys manage to get rid of the feedback berween these speakers.... Hello Houston, how are you reading me down there? (s sec. pause) Hello Houston, are you reading Skylab?"
Capcom: "Skylab, this is Houston. We heard you alright, but had difficulty recognizing your voice. Who do we have on the line up there?"
Skylab: "Hello Houston. Roger. Well I haven't talked with you for a while. Isn't that you down there, Bob? This is Helen, here in Skylab. The boys hadn't had a good home cooked meal in so long, I thought I'd bring one up. Over"
Capcom: "Roger, Skylab. Someone's gotta be pulling my leg, Helen. Where are you?"
Skylab: "Right here in Skylab, Bob. Just a few orbits ago we were looking down on those forest fires in California. The smoke sure covers a lot of territory, and, oh boy, the sunrises are just beautiful! Oh oh..... See you later, Bob. I hear the boys coming up here and I'm not supposed to be on the radio."
"Then quiet returned to the voice link, but we were told later, Bob Crippen had lots of questions coming his way in the Control Center," Garriott said. "What was going on? Where was this voice coming from? Bob must have been a very good actor, because he claimed complete ignorance and innocence of how it happened. Everyone heard it coming down on the air-to-ground loop. The whole two-way conversation sounded like a perfectly normal dialogue. No breaks or gaps, and they all heard Bob respond in real time. Could I have recorded Helen's voice on a 'family conversation' from our home? Yes, but there was no recent one. How would she have known about the fires, or who was to be on Capcom duty and how could she respond to Bob's comments in real time, as everyone could hear?
"No one ever worked out how this was accomplished. Finally, at our twenty-fifth reunion celebration in Houston in 1998, and with many of the flight directors and controllers present and still with no clue as to how it was done, I described it all as above. My prejudiced opinion is that this was the best 'gotcha' ever perpetrated on our friendly flight controllers!"
Crippen recalled: "That was kind of a fun trick. There was head rubbing.
Everybody in the MOCR, or the control room, was looking like, What the hell is going on?' We did a good job. It was fun. Working those missions got to be tough. We did all kinds of things to try to come up with levity. That was a nice one that the crew got that the ground control didn't know about."
This is the face of a evil genius,
RULE NO. 1 OF WOUND CARE: ignore itttt :33
RULE NO. 2 OF WOUND CARE: go swimming!! in a pond or especially a public pool :)
WHO TF ARE YOU?!?!?!
Does Anakin Skywalker ask who is Darth Vader?
Maybe thereās someone in this abandoned clown factory who can help us
this is what companies say every time they try to buy tumblr
So I'm just mucking about listening to music last night when suddenly something outside is screaming at me.
Now, it doesn't sound like the possums, but they're the most obvious culprits, so I look out the window to check. And yeah, sure, one of the possums is hanging out in the acacia. But as it's screaming again, I can tell, the possum is not doing anything.
Look at them. Look at them all cuddled up in that tree.
So, yeah. There's screaming emanating from outside, but the possum is just hanging out so it's not them.
I still don't know what the screaming was. I think it was a tawny frogmouth, because I've met some in the area before:
And it sounded a bit like their call, like a kinda croaky scream, like a door being opened.
Anybody got any other suggestions what this critic of German hip-hop music might have been?
Foul beast ate that adventurer whole, RIP
My paramotor was stolen.
The UPS guy just left it on the porch. Didnāt ring the bell. Didnāt try to get a signature.
Minutes later, two assholes in a suburban pulled up, shoved it in the back, and took off. I heard the squealing of their tires as I was walking down the stairs, checked the camera, and realized what had happened.
Iām devastated. And furious. Even if Iām able to recoup the money from a claim, A. Thatās going to take forever and B. due to my small size, finding another small/light enough engine in the states will be all but impossible and C. due to super high tariffs, itās really hard to get the engines from Italy right now. So. I thought Iād get to fly in a week. Looks like it might be months before that happens. Iām so angry I can hardly type. And I feel so useless. Like thereās nothing I can do. Fuck.
So I figured UPS would eventually be responsible because they didnāt get my signature before leaving it. But apparently the SELLER DIDNāT PAY THE $5 EXTRA DOLLARS for a signature.
FIVE DOLLARS COULD HAVE PREVENTED THIS.
So UPS isnāt liable. The seller is saying that itās not their fault since I didnāt explicitly ask for a signature, despite the fact that putting a signature requirement on a package worth several THOUSAND DOLLARS of machinery feels like a pretty fucking common sense thing to do. I am. Incandescent with rage. They also couldnāt provide the serial number for me/the police report which at this point feels VERY shady. Iāve messaged my trainer, who found the motor and set me up with them, to see if he has any advice.
Also if you happen to be in Denver and see this vehicle, let me know.
On the absolutely unlikely chance someone somewhere sees it, the paramotor was one of two Proton Xās in the US and the only one configured with a 2-blade prop. So it looks like this assembled, but with two blades instead of three.
Of course, itās not assembled. It was stolen in a box with this logo.
The guy who stole it is a white dude, around 6ft with red-brown facial hair. The driver is a thin black (?) woman with shoulder length black hair.
They were driving a 1999/2000ish dark green or blue Ford Explorer with cream trim.
Iām offering a $1000 reward for information that leads to its safe return because thatās basically all I have left.
ITS BEEN RECOVERED. Good news!!! I cannot believe it but thanks to the news story, a railroad worker (shout out to Dominick) recognized a man dragging a wagon with the box in it next to the tracks, fist-fought him for it, and then he and another worker pulled the wagon over a mile to the cross streets they recognized from the interview last night and started knocking on doors. I opened my door to a dozen people including neighbors all shouting theyād found my flying machine.
The local news is going to do an update getting Dominickās story tonight but I am so relieved. I canāt even express what a whirlwind 48 hrs this has been. But now I can finally sleep. Holy shit.
Do you write music with the view of being politically active and delivering a message or does it just happen and the rest follows?Ā
#this is a perspective Iāve only seen from people who truly think broadly and sympathetically about life#like heās literally right Iām sorry and people who arenāt white or cis or straight learn so so SO early that your existence is political#not inherently but because white cishet men have crafted society in a way itās impossible for it not to be#and ignoring that isnāt going to make you ascend above it god Iām so tired of having to explain that to people#Iām tired of peopleās experiences in both places of privilege and place of oppression being used to scapegoat what we all can see#like look at his example!#āgoing out for a dance on a Saturday nightā means something different if youāre poor if youāre gay if youāre a racial minority#āwalking into a shopā who owns it how often do you go is it a big box store or a small owned business is it walkable#thereās pOLitiCs in all of that! in ever aspect of your life!#ESPECIALLY if you take your life experiences and turn them into art of any formĀ (via @twentyfour-mp3)
Friendly reminder that Hozierās first music video, in 2013, involved him literally taking his life savings and using it to make a protest video about anti-gay actions in Chechnya. This was not a popular position at the time, to the point that damn near every interviewer asked āso, are you gay?ā because they literally could not figure out why he cared so much.
Incidentally, after the first few times of saying āno, Iām straight but itās important,ā he started saying āyou can think that if you want.ā ALSO not a popular position at the time. Adam Lambertās entire career had been derailed only four years before because he dared to be openly gay and sexual about it.
He literally came out swinging like Muhammad Ali and has not stopped. And he finds it odd that people find it odd! Like he was asked if he was aware of his ālesbian cult followingā and seemed genuinely puzzled why he has a lesbian cult following (and, later, just a massive queer following in general) and itās like. Honey. You loved us first. You loved us more and harder than most people were willing to. When it was unpopular to even whisper about how maybe queer people shouldnāt be seen as inhuman actually, you grabbed a megaphone and screamed. You risked not just losing a career, but never having one at all, to stand by us. You loved us. Weāre just loving you back.
