but shouldn't we have a ready retort? @whereforareyouknowingit - Tumblr Blog

Lilo and Stitch (2002) dir. Chris Sanders, Dean DeBlois

“He was looking the other way and so I said, ‘Hey George!’ He turned and saw [the pillow], and put his hand out like he didn’t know what I wanted, for him to autograph it, take it, look at it or what, but he finally took it and I got out of the way. Just as I turned around back toward the car, I heard his gorgeous voice say, ‘Thank you.’ So I said, ‘You’re welcome.’ Barb said he was looking to see who had given it to him as he said it. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see the pillow in his hands and he looked at the front and then back and then front again, and he was still looking at it when the limo pulled away […] I saw him get out of the car and got there in time to take one pic of him on the stairway, and he looked straight at me and had a funny little look on his face and he was carrying the pillow on the plane himself! He didn’t ditch it or give it to anyone else, so I guess he really liked it.” - Char Bass (1976) “I remembered I’d brought a small present for him – one was a drawing I had done of Krishna. George brought out the picture slowly. He studied it and kept saying, ‘That’s really good.’ I was embarrassed as I thought it wasn’t good enough but my mum said I should give him it, but he really seemed to like it. I just hope he really did. The other was a toy spider which was my favorite spider his name was George (of course). ‘Here’s my favorite spider for you.’ George began to laugh. Olivia shrieked, ‘Oh God!’ and George laughed […] ‘This is a nice one, isn’t it. Look at his eyes!’ laughed George […] George put the spider on top of the clock on the mantel piece. I was so pleased that he liked the things I brought him. I know they don’t sound like much but the drawing took me hours to do and the spider I’ve had for ages and meant a lot to me. George is the only person I’d give them away to.” - Angela Rennie (1977) “He picked the first gift off the seat and started to rip the wrapping paper off as I said, ‘This one was made by a friend of mine for you.’ George unfolded it and layed it on the steering wheel so he could see it better. It was a rug with the OM design in red on bright yellow. ‘Oh! That is very nice. And she made it herself?’ ‘No, HE did. He wanted to make you something nice for Christmas, and I promised him that if I saw you I’d give it to you, so there it is.’ ‘Oh, that’s nice! Tell him thank you for me.’ - Leslie Bart (1977) “I remembered the t-shirt I’d brought along, just in case, so I hurried over and called out to George. He finally turned around, and looked at me. Me: ‘May I give you something?’ George: ‘Oh, Yeah.’ He walked over to me, as I opened the shirt. George held the ends as he checked it out, then said, ‘Oh yeah, that’s nice.’ He let go of it and began to walk away, which totally confused me, so I called out to him again. George turned back around and I said, ‘Will you take it?’ George came back to get it and said, ‘Oh yeah…sure!’ Then he and Olivia walked up the ramp to the garage, on his way, George again opened the shirt, held it up to check it out again!” - Karen Dyson (1978) “He would always say, no matter what it was, ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Sometimes people would make up an award and send it because they like him and he’d go, ‘Oh, that’s nice.’ And he’d kind of put it on the table and it would just be there. Probably people don’t realize that he did appreciate it whether it was the biggest award in the world or the smallest little award or a flower left in the gate…He might have some hokey little thing beside an Oscar on the shelf and it was all the same to him.” - Olivia Harrison (2009)

#oh that's nice #george harrison #the beatles

thatskindarough

Ringoooooo

#RINGOOOOOO #art #the beatles

modernbluem

don’t you hate when real life keeps interrupting your extremely serious commitments like your wip, your fanfics, and the emotional support music group you’ve been hyperfixating on for the past three months.

inkskinned

Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.

I’m not worth the cost of a watch.

inkskinned

i wrote this while i was working at orlando’s walt disney world parks.

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.

#it's true and it's absurd

huariqueje

You are Doing Well - Line Holtegaard , 2025.

Danish , b, 1980 -

Oil on canvas , 120 x 150 cm.

#art

genderoutlaws

Gilbert Baker helps hoist one of the two original rainbow flags created by the decoration committee for San Francisco Gay Freedom Day | 1978 | ph: James McNamara, lead seamster of the flags

#happy pride #what a photo