If you're ever feeling sad at night just remember: your cat is probably somewhere in your room attempting to do bizzare half life physics puzzles with fragile objects
a little obsessed with the story of how giacomo casanova was sharing a gondola with this random guy who suddenly started having a seizure, and casanova had some medical training so he stabilized the guy until the guy’s physician could be called. and then the physician bled the guy and put mercury ointment on him, which caused everything to get worse to the point that a priest was called to administer the guy’s last rites, but then casanova stepped in and washed off the mercury ointment despite the doctor yelling at him not to. and the guy recovered and turned out to be super rich and powerful and in gratitude bankrolled casanova’s debauchery for years until casanova got himself sentenced to five years in jail for blasphemy. also at one point he got shot through the hand in a duel and doctors wanted to amputate it but he said no it’ll be fine and it Was
so what i’m saying is a medical procedural show where the main character is giacomo casanova and he doesn’t want to be solving these medical mysteries but goddamn if he isn’t the only fucker in this room who knows how to not kill the patient. so i guess my date with this prussian chick will just have to wait
Some of y'all like communism a little too much and act too much like it's communism or else you're a big ol' conservative republican who loves capitalism and 'Merica. (P.S. not everything is about the United States of America. No, not even if you dig. Misery can be brought by more than the US of A.)
It's concerning as someone who spends half their time trying to tell children about communist atrocities and wondering how many of them go home and rant about how evil I am for being against communism. Even after knowing/learning communism has killed far more millions than we will ever really fully know because they figured out how to do it a little too well in an age when you just have to toss everything into a fire to get rid of the evidence.
How much generational trauma is still going along the bloodline because of communism. How many victims feel like they have to be silent or else they get dogpiled by children. Telling them they're wrong.
Do you even know who the Khmer Rouge killed? Why?
Do you even know what the Holodomor is?
How many millions of Ukrainians and Cambodians are gone because of communists? Because their ideology literally says to murder en masse? I'm sorry that isn't what you took out of your little commie manual.
How much bigger, fuller, wonderful would life be in dozens of places if not for communism? Communism does not encourage art. It does not encourage writing (except for the machine of communism). It does not care if you are disabled, it will kill you for being useless as a worker. If you think it cares a fucking whit about people like me, you're sadly mistaken.
Queer people are an abomination. They will not/can not produce future workers. They are things to be killed and dumped into pits because they are not proper members of the Party. Some even got forced sterilization just for that extra bit of misery and humiliation.
It is not the amazing, wonderful, loving, caring ideology you take it for.
It cares not for true science. If a scientist disagrees with the Party Scientists, they have to go. Communist Science looks like putting hundreds into the freezing cold. Forcing them to have children. For the sole purpose of making the children immune to the cold. That's not how that works. So many dead for science that isn't real science. Where is your concern for ethics? For humanity? It does not exist in communism.
Communism is not what you think it is. Communism has murdered millions. Communism has hurt the families of people you claim the glory of communism in front of.
Better dead than red? Dead because of Red.
Communism is not 'people of color winning' in South America, in Cuba. In Cambodia. In China. It's people of color dying because of an ideology that should have been stopped in the 1800s.
People who live in the western world and consider themselves communists/socialists really need to double, triple, quadruple (etc) check what that really means and maybe rethink a couple of times, or maybe learn history better. Abd that's the least that they should do.
#I don’t think people learn what communism means anymore#this describes dictatorship
Did you miss the part where I literally teach this? I have spent a good portion of my adult life studying and teaching about communism. And honestly, I don't have much of a choice. I'm nearly 40 years old. Commies murdered millions of Ukrainians. The US has the highest concentration of Ukrs outside of Ukraine for one reason: communism.
I don't need a variant of "it was not real communism" on my posts.
I am 100% describing communist regimes. If it floats like a duck and quacks like a duck. Dictatorship and communist are not mutually exclusive. In many of these places, they went so far left that they touched the far right/authoritarian. But that doesn't mean it wasn't communism first. Communism brought them to that point. Democracy has led to authoritarianism and fascism. Does that mean it wasn't true democracy because of that evolution? Kuzco Emperor's New Groove voice: Let me guess you fully believe China is not communist because -checks notes- they vote*.
Communism cannot be done at a national level. It simply can't. All of their attempts to make it so? Ended in murder. Of millions. But then it seems you glossed over the part where I said communist theory requires mass murder. (And honestly I suspect Pol Pot, Mao, Stalin, et al knew that. They knew it requires mass murder and were still fully willing to go ahead. Not that they got to that inevitable mass murder point then truly went "oh shit". But "aww, fuck it. Everyone is already so bloodthirsty anyway, right?" Stalin himself pulled a Scar with the Hyenas in his "Dizzy with Success" but like... he told them to kill so they did. And now he's saying he didn't?)
The ones who don't learn what communism means anymore are the kids with the hammer and sickle in their bios or avatars. Who say shit like they're a "marxist-leninist". And that they can't wait for the revolution to come so they can kill people they incorrectly refer to as the bourgeoise and they say they are proudly anti-intelligentsia.
Please do me a favor and read at least three of the books on this list. Then you tell me whether or not I'm correct in my assessment of what communism "means". Millions are dead and cannot tell you. Only their survivors, if any, can point to communism and say 'that's why my great aunt is dead, that's why my grandpa went to gulag'.
Don't you think... a little bit... that it's wild how everywhere communism has embedded itself, there has been mass murder? You can go "but capitalism--" but again, at the end of the day, it didn't kill millions in the matter of a single year even though they had the means to feed everyone. It didn't kill people for wearing eyeglasses. It did not torture and murder people for the simple 'crime' of 'stealing' a handful of fucking grain. Atrocities exist in the West. But not with the same cause, the same reasoning, as in communism.
Communism is not the goddamn answer to capitalism. It cannot work large scale. Trying to do so is asinine and is telling people who survived other regimes that you didn't learn squat from previous 'experiments'.
The sheer fact that communism has led to a cult of personality single leader system does not mean it wasn't communism. I mean for fuck's sake, proto-communism wanted to completely demolish the idea of privacy whatsoever! But I guess "that's actually authoritarianism".
And at the end of the day? Survivors and their families don't give two shits if you think it "wasn't real communism" or "um actually that's a dictatorship". Because people who proclaimed themselves commies did real damage, real mass murder. They did what they did at the behest of an ideology that looks great on paper but not so much in real life.
Actual communist theory cannot work except in super small communes like a fucking kibbutz.
What's that quote? Something something the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?
*This is incredibly simplistic but I think I get the point across.
(Honestly checking my anti communism tag, I basically end up repeating myself over and over. I guess in a way I am also driving myself insane by writing the same thing over and over expecting someone to go 'oh wow, you're right, Mr. Jacensolodjo' this time.)
It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghosts—skeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredient—the cannabis—was donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Mary’s brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club—the first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
I'd be only too happy to do that. I was suspicious to start, too. It seemed a bit on the nose to have the weed brownie grandma named "Mary Jane," but also, that's a very common combination in a certain place and time, so I thought it was worth the extra effort.
What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.
Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.
The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.
Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.
The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.
Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)
Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.
...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.
I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.
My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!
She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.
The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.
The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.
Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!
We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:
...wow. I should see if my library has that!
The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.
There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.
as a child i assumed that martha’s vineyard was a fancy private vineyard owned by martha stewart and the reason rich people vacationed there was because they were friends with martha
baratheonpilled
amandla
andulkaphoto
