"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Noah Kahan
macklin celebrini has autism
RMH
EXPECTATIONS
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Game of Thrones Daily
★
we're not kids anymore.
untitled
Origami Around
Show & Tell
Mike Driver
h
NASA
Kiana Khansmith
YOU ARE THE REASON
KIROKAZE
Cosimo Galluzzi
seen from Türkiye
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@welcometocapitalism
every now and then, I stumble upon an actual nazi account who's not even trying to hide it on this site and then I quickly remember that @staff for some reason has made reporting users and things incredibly unbearable and annoying for whatever reason.
also did I never hear back about most reports.
(Out of deodorant voice) maybe we should all be more accepting of the smells our bodies naturally produce
yes, we actually should.
of course, this includes showering. at some point, body smell turns into odor, too.
but there is absolutely 0 actual reason to be covered in perfumes and deodorants all the time.
don't buy the lie that you'd be unlikeable if you don't constantly smell like "sweet summer strawberry garden with a touch of vanilla" or "heavy metal flamethrower dungeon". it's all made up.
shower regularly, keep some hygiene, and you'll be totally fine. if someone tells you otherwise, then they're subject to that particular lie i was referring to.
'Voter fraud' and 'election fraud' are so obviously Republican projections. MAGA/GOP cheating and conniving are manifest. #SAVEAct
By MAGA logic, Mamdani is patriotic.
[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat. Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records. My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now. Called the county clerk. Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty. Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons? Me: Yes, but he's a cat. Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county? Me: He's a legal cat. Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption. Me: He can't file anything. He has paws. Clerk: You can file on his behalf. Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat." Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons." Me: What's the medical reason? Clerk: He's a cat. Me: That's not a medical condition. Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving. Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later. "Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement." Took the letter to my vet. Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty. Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty? Me: Excellent question. No good answer. Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten. Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve? Vet: On what grounds? Me: He's a cat. Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings." Me: Perfect. Sent it in. Got another rejection. "Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court." My roommate thought this was hilarious. Roommate: Felix is going to jail. Me: This is serious. Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens. Decided that was actually the only option left. Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters. Checked in at the courthouse. Clerk: Name? Me: Felix Martinez. Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix? Me: Yes. Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat. Me: I've been saying that for six weeks. Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption? Me: I filed three. All rejected. Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation? Me: Twice. Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this. Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me. Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote? Me: You tell me. Supervisor: This is a data error. Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out. They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience. Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry. Me: Appreciate it. Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted? Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats. Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card. For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was. Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud. Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent. Roommate: That's what they all say. Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now. Fitting end to his legal career. end id]
lol
imagine saying or supporting this shit and saying with a straight face that you're with the good side, holy fucking shit
@isuggesteatingtherich
Hiding their faces like cowards. Their racist beliefs are absolute dogshit and they know it.
Getting #BlackRock to change/exit the real estate market in NYC is a massive win for New Yorkers and #ZohranMamdani.
yeah
Source
This is way better than straight up telling your kid “Santa isn’t real.”
I never thought about it this way, and it makes me really happy
ok!
[image IDs:
1: In our family, we have a special way of transitioning the kids from receiving from Santa, to becoming a Santa. This way, the Santa construct is not a lie that gets discovered, but an unfolding series of good deeds and Christmas spirit.
When they are 6 or 7, whenever you see that dawning suspicion that Santa may not be a material being, that means the child is ready. I take them out for coffee" at the local wherever. We get a booth, order our drinks, and the following pronouncement is made: You sure have grown an awful lot this year. Not only are you taller, but I can see that your heart has grown, too. [ Point out 2-3 examples of empathetic behavior, consideration of people’s feelings, good deeds etc, the kid has done in the past year]. In fact, your heart has grown so much that I think you are ready to become a Santa Claus.
2: You probably have noticed that most of the Santas you see are people dressed up like him. Some of your friends might have even told you that there is no Santa. A lot of children think that, because they aren’t ready to BE a Santa yet, but YOU ARE.
Tell me the best things about Santa. What does Santa get for all of his trouble? [lead the kid from “cookies” to the good feeling of having done something for someone else]. Well, now YOU are ready to do your first job as a Santa!“ Make sure you maintain the proper conspiratorial tone.
We then have the child choose someone they know—a neighbor, usually. The child’s mission is to secretly, deviously, find out something that the person needs, and then provide it, wrap it, deliver it—and never reveal to the target where it came from. Being a Santa isn’t about getting credit, you see. It’s unselfish giving.
3: My oldest chose the “witch lady” on the corner. She really was horrible—had a fence around the house and would never let the kids go in and get a stray ball or Frisbee. She’d yell at them to play quieter, etc—a real pill. He noticed when we drove to school that she came out every morning to get her paper in bare feet, so he decided she needed slippers. So then he had to go spy and decide how big her feet were. He hid in the bushes one Saturday, and decided she was a medium. We went to Kmart and bought warm slippers. He wrapped them up, and tagged it “merry Christmas from Santa.” After dinner one evening, he slipped down to her house, and slid the package under her driveway gate. The next morning, we watched her waddle out to get the paper, pick up the present, and go inside. My son was all excited, and couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. The next morning, as we drove off, there she was, out getting her paper—wearing the slippers. He was ecstatic. I had to remind him that NO ONE could ever know what he did, or he wouldn’t be a Santa.
4: Over the years, he chose a good number of targets, always coming up with a unique present just for them. One year, he polished up his bike, put a new seat on it, and gave it to one of our friend’s daughters. These people were and are very poor. We did ask the dad if it was ok. The look on her face, when she saw the bike on the patio with a big bow on it, was almost as good as the look on my son’s face.
When it came time for Son #2 to join the ranks, my oldest came along, and helped with the induction speech. They are both excellent gifters, by the way, and never felt that they had been lied to—because they were let in on the Secret of Being a Santa.
5: A 3-panel expanding brain meme.
Small brain: “Santa is real, he delivers presents and flies around with his sleigh and reindeer”.
Expanding brain: “Santa isn’t real, it’s actually just parents who put presents under the tree”.
Enlightened brain: “Santa is real and everyone who gives gifts and spreads joy is Santa”.
end IDs.]
Is anyone else constantly bothered by the fact that all of a child's medical care is required to go through their parents? That they must rely on these people to decide when they do or don't need medical care?
No matter how injured. If a parent doesn't deem it necessary to see a doctor, it doesn't happen. Teachers can suggest a doctor visit, but unless it's a very acute injury (and even then), it's ultimately up to the parents.
You can be 13. Twisted, maybe broken ankle. You teacher lets you sit out in PE. She's concerned, and tells you to rest when you go home, and see a doctor. You get home, ur parents fill a bath and add some Epsom salts, and then laugh at you for using it moms old colorguard stick as a cane. Take some ibuprofen they say. It's just a little sprain, ur a kid.
You go to school the next day, go to ur office assistant time. Office calls ur mom to come get you, because you're clearly in too much pain for school. Your mom laughs when she gets you, says you just were so determined not to miss school. Scolds you for making the office ladies worry.
You never see a doctor for the injury.
Your parents come into the exam room at every visit. This does not stop with age, except for gynecologist. But your parents are on the medical release forms. They fill them out for you, with you. You do not get to take them off.
You never get to tell s doctor about the ankle. Even though it never quote healed right, and it hurts every day.
Then your 18. In college. Still on your parents insurance, and have no car. The on campus clinic only does std testing. You fall down some stairs. Same injury. You call your parents, crying from the pain. You are using a mop as a cane. They console you and say to have a bath, take some meds, and let them know how it feels in a few days. You end up borrowing your roommates rolling chair to get around for the weekend.
By Monday, you can walk again. You walk miles to class every day. You ask to see a doctor, but your parents won't drive the hour to come take you, and you don't have the insurance card. You are still at their mercy for medical care. The ankle tries to heal again. This time worse than before. The tendons click with every step.
Now you're in your twenties. Finally have your own healthcare. You see a doctor. You get to mention the ankle! They say it's been too long to really even know what was damaged. That you have arthritis now. It healed wrong but it can no longer be fixed.
I'm 32 now. My ankle tells me the weather. I wear boots to keep it stable. What could have been a funny story about a fall and a cast has become a lifetime injury. Because children do not have access to medical care without a parents approval.
