first time in a while that i found a new excellent subreddit r/scrungycats

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
we're not kids anymore.
One Nice Bug Per Day
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin
🪼
No title available
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
The Bowery Presents
Sade Olutola

roma★

@theartofmadeline

Origami Around

shark vs the universe

blake kathryn
Noah Kahan

★

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
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@shiny-spoon
first time in a while that i found a new excellent subreddit r/scrungycats
I don’t care why, this is hysterical.
This is the best kind of prank.
No scares, no injury, no property damage, just confuse the hell out of someone.
how can ppl say cats dont have feelings like.
when my cat got deadly sick she refused to eat a single thing and it had been days but when i started crying she ate just a little bit, and upon seeing how happy it made me, kept doing it whenever she could.
now whenever im sad or crying she finds wherever i am with a mouthful of food and eats the pieces one by one, every time looking up at me making sure i was watching her eat it all because she knew it made me happy. and it DOES make me happy
i love cats!!!
im so glad my little Foofy has touched everyone’s hearts… she luvs you all
I don’t believe that the Feline Grimace Scale is perfect—- cats won’t present typically if they’re in unfamiliar settings (like a vet’s office) and are already stressed. But I think it’s a great start for cat owners at home to use.
My cat grimacing. She had a soft tissue injury to her back that was causing her a great deal of pain. 1st picture was before I realized something was wrong, 2nd picture was shortly after being on an anti-inflammatory and pain killer. Compared to her normal expression, I can really see she is in pain. Especially with the eyes
via Van Kelsing
i dont understand this at all and america scares the fuck out of me
This is the america they don’t want you to see
i love america
This is what you call Waffle House at 2 am when the bars close and everyone is drunk and hungry
*group of people having fun* this site: wtf this is so scary
People having safe fun at a waffle house is scary for most Tumblr bloggers, reports say.
Some context for those not familiar with Waffle House Culture:
Waffle House is one of the few chains in America that’s open 24/7/365, and where you can get both breakfast and lunch/dinner options at any time (I have had so many Breakfast Cheeseburgers at Waffle Houses). The food is really good, and people eat there at all times of the day or night, but it’s particularly popular as a late-night post-drinking spot because it’s all that’s open and it’s the kind of food that tastes especially good when you’re hammered.
Part of Waffle House Protocol is that all the servers and cooks greet every single customer as they come through the door. It sounds lame, but I’ve never been to a Waffle House where that greeting didn’t feel completely heartfelt. My mom is a health nut who could barely find anything on the menu she was willing to eat and yet she describes the Christmas Day lunch we had there one year as one of the nicest meals she’s ever had because everyone was so warm and welcoming. That sense of camaraderie gets turned up to 11, of course, at 2 a.m. when everyone’s shitfaced.
The jukeboxes have Waffle-House-themed songs on them (once you have heard “Raisins in my Toast” you will be earwormed forever) and there is an arcane system of hash brown ordering: scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, diced, peppered, and/or capped. The hot sauce bottles say “Casa de Waffle.”
Once, in Oxford (UK), my husband and I walked past a kebab van very late one night and he said “why do I smell Waffle House”
The location of most Waffle Houses means there’s some… classism that tends to get tied up with Anti-Waffle House Discourse, which is probably lending itself, in part, to this being such a fraught topic. (I’m looking at a map and apparently I was born and raised right in the middle of the Peak Waffle House Density Zone)
It is, in the words of chef Anthony Bourdain, “indeed marvelous— an irony-free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts; where everybody regardless of race, creed, color or degree of inebriation is welcomed.”
We’re not even gonna mention FEMA’s Waffle House Index where they determine how bad a natural disaster is by calling the local Waffle House to see if they’re open?
that last bit isn’t a joke
When Corona first hit, you knew it was bad because Waffle House shut down COMPLETELY.
And you can tell it’s still bad because they’ve put Ceiling High Plastic Dividers between every booth and blocked off all but like 2 tables at the counter and after a certain point at night? It’s carry-out only. Period. No exceptions.
Anyone who wants to tell you we are fine? I will post pictures of Waffle House not being fully functional 24/7 and go “no we’re not.”
Because this is a place that stays open with no power and boil water advisories. Ok? When every Waffle House in the country is back to normal - and I mean 💯 normal - only then will we be “through this” and not a moment before.
I literally said, “Oh shit, this is serious,” back in April when I heard all the Waffle Houses were closed. That is in fact a Danger Level Indicator in America, and for some reason people take it seriously for hurricanes, but not for pandemics. #CognitiveDissonance
And I fully agree -
When every Waffle House in the country is back to normal - and I mean 💯 normal - only then will we be “through this” and not a moment before.
So I kept telling my husband to stop unfolding his clean clothes and leaving them on the floor, and he insisted he wasn’t doing any of that even though I had the evidence.
Just found the cat pulling t-shirts out of his drawer, which had been left slightly ajar. The culprit has escalated from trashcan crimes and is trying to cause upset in my marriage now.
I discovered the ruse a bit faster than the former but she ALSO pulls clothes off the hangers by trying to “climb” them so she can sit on the top closet shelf.
HOMEWRECKER
get her a cat tower, she wants to be tall
She HAS a cat tower it’s the tallest one the store had
And she has LOTS of toys and many snackies she has NO reason to cause mischief except her own bastardly motivation.
This is an important message.
I will never NOT reblog this.
THIS!!!!
THANK YOU. I NEEDED THIS
I keep telling young people I meet this. But maybe it’s because I look young myself that they don’t listen…
This is the cutest.
The original artist is Sandara. Here’s the art without the signature crop.
Her deviantart is here.
op is either a shapeshifter, or they are on a whole next level on reposting content
Where my sexy ADHD boys at
They're all late, sorry.
Are my sexy ADHD boys ready yet
Still waiting for my sexy ADHD boys
https://archiveofourown.org/skins/3756
Comic idea from my dream: every morning you give your pet People Juice and send em to school. They gotta learn calculus and read Hemingway just like people do
I probably won’t make this into a real comic…. prooobably………. :3c
“Tenochtitlan,” by Elisa Chavez.
Cortes’ men thought the Mexica’s floating city must be a dream: stone temples jutting from the water, voracious bright gardens and grand estates.
My sun-worshipping ancestors kept their gods close, heeded their rapt whispers. In their names, they built marvelous canals and walked on the waters.
It shouldn’t then surprise that artists have tried to recapture Tenochtitlan, brooding on the dream journals of Spaniards: they imagine her bright causeways, the lush gardens paving her streets like enchantments.
The Spanish, steely god-mongers that they were, knew well how to deal with enchantment: They burned Tenochtitlan to ash.
Leí que los Mexica ahogaban a mujeres de cercanos pueblos para apaciguar a la diosa de las lluvias. Su templo mayor tenía dos estantes de cráneos.
Mis antepasados que adoraban al sol mantenían a sus dioses cerca, escuchando a sus voces rapaces. En sus nombres, perpetraban maravillas y atrocidades.
No debe sorprender entonces que los pueblos a fuera de Tenochtitlan les daron la bienvenida a cualquiera que prometiera un final al sol cruel, las flores mentirosas, los aguas pavimentados con los huesos de tributas.
El dios de los Hispanos fue el oro, y él les mandó a quemar Tenochtitlan, enviándola para reunirse con las doncellas ahogadas.
Is this translation inaccurate? You bet! Miss Translated is a meditation on culture, identity, and the things that get lost in translation by Elisa Chavez. To support this project, check out my Patreon.
What you’ve read above is a lie. That is, the poems were real; but the translations don’t accurately reflect each other. This is always the case with Elisa Chavez’s “Miss Translated” poems and it’s why I believe she’s one of the most exciting modern poets working today.
Because what she does is honestly extraordinary.
I have no idea which one comes first or what her process is. But what she shares with the world is a poem, in English, side by side with a translation in Spanish. Only the Spanish is wrong. Or, well, the Spanish is right; the English is wrong.
It’s a real poem all right, and often a more powerful one than its English counterpart. But it doesn’t say what the English says. She does not supply a “correct” translation. For that she relies on her readers.
Elisa Chavez says of her project that: “The main conceit behind this work is that to accurately portray my relationship with Spanish, I have to explore the pain and ambiguity of not speaking the language of my grandparents and ancestors. As a result, these poems are bilingual … sort of. Each one is translated into English incorrectly.
“The poems I produced have secrets, horrific twists, emotional rants, and confessions hiding in the Spanish. It’s my hope that people can appreciate them regardless of their level of Spanish proficiency.”
My own great-grandmother was born and raised in Mexico. My grandmother was raised bilingual and my mother is far more fluent in Spanish than she cares to admit (she says she “doesn’t speak it,” but the one time someone really tried to cheat us and retreated into “no hablo ingles,” she was a FOUNTAIN of español). I was the first on my matrilineal side to be raised monolingual, in English. I love these poems because the process I go through, of reading the English first, then the Spanish and guessing at it, and then looking up a proper translation, feels revelatory.
Anyway, all that is lead up. The payoff is, I couldn’t find an “accurate” translation of the Spanish in this poem already online, so I asked my mom friend Francisca Cázares ( you can follow her at https://www.facebook.com/francisca.cazares or https://www.instagram.com/xicana_en_oaklandia/) for the true translation, and she gave me this: I read that the Mexica drowned women from nearby towns to appease the goddess of rain. Her temple had two shelves of skulls. My ancestors who adored the sun kept their gods close listening to their rapacious voices. In their names they perpetrated miracles and atrocities. It shouldn’t then surprise that the towns outside Tenochtitlán gave welcome to anyone who promised an end to the cruel sun the lying flowers, the waters paved with bones of tributes The Spanish god was gold and ordered them to burn Tenochtitlán sending her to reunite with the drowned maids To be honest this poem is challenging to me personally. As I said to a friend, “feels like Chavez’s point with this poem is something close to ‘don’t fucking romanticize human sacrifice, asswads’…Which, yes, but there’s so many more pressing issues…? I stand by loving what she does with making the act of translation part of her poetry, though.” And then I went back and re-read some of the Chavez poem-and-translation sets that I think are raw genius incarnate, like “La sirena y pescador / The mermaid and the fisherman” or “El vampiro / ICE.” So then I thought, well, all of Elisa Chavez’s other fans deserve to be challenged by “Tenochtitlan” as I have been challenged, probably. Or maybe I just want to talk about this with people who will understand, and sharing the translation contributes to understanding? In any case I asked Francisca if I could share it with credit and she said yes, so here you are. She honestly did a beautiful job with the translation so if you go onto her social media for fuck’s sake be nice. The one thing I love about the implied criticism of the Mexica in this poem is that outsiders can’t actually read it. So I am the traitor breaching the language gates, please don’t make me regret it.
This is a fantastic reblog.
In the 3-and-a-half-ish years since I started the Miss Translated series, I’ve been thrilled to see readers create translations–whether out of their own bilingualism, via translation software, or through friends and family. This is work! It’s not something I expect, and I’m always humbled when it happens.
The one rule of Miss Translation that I’ve held myself to is that I don’t provide accurate English translations of the Spanish. However, if one just so happens to crop up, I feel like I can speak on it a little bit.
So in this reply, I’m gonna talk about the lovely work that Francisca Cázares has done with this (re-translation? de-translation?), as well as respond to some of the points raised by @worriedaboutmyfern. ARE YOU READY for:
Conquistadors??
The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, or HISTORY
The Florentine Codex??!?
poems written in the 1500s
Keep reading
A lesbian ghost that flirts with female ghost hunters
Roy Trinh on Instagram / Etsy
Conservatives accidentally doing this never gets old
based
dont any of you dare forget this gem i quote this daily