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the whole "lipstick on a pig" thing makes no sense because the second we gave a pig access to makeup she became god's cuntiest soldier

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The other night husband and I were watching a documentary about the yeti where they were doing DNA analysis of samples of supposed yeti fur, and every one of them came back as bears.

Anyway, the next night we watched a thing about some pig man who is supposed to live in Vermont. People said it had claws and a pig nose but walked upright like a man. Now, I happen to know that sideshows used to shave bears and present them as pig men. So every piece of evidence they gave of this monster sounds to me like a bear with mange.

So now the running joke in our house is that everything is bears. Aliens? Bears. Loch Ness monster? Bear. Every cryptozoological mystery is just a very crafty bear.

Bears. They’re everywhere. Be wary. Anyone or anything could be a bear.

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Do you think that the way social media algorithmic feeds are continuously monitoring user actions and inputs has fed into the increasing proliferation of obsessive anxieties around media consumption ?

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“keychain, you’re upset, have a gun” jens may not canonically be divorced but i do think we can call whatever this opening is divorced energy

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Does anyone else see different US regions as “coded” as specific seasons?

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it really is all of us or bust btw. we cannot accept conditional acceptance of queer people, we cannot accept the exclusion of some in exchange for inclusion of others, it's all of us or nothing and we have to be so fucking clear about that. don't let conservatives or terfs or twitter discourse convince you that there's any other option. don't let them get away with it. we're all going to fucking make it and we're not leaving anybody behind

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saying ao3 needs to censor certain content is like saying a museum can't have still life art that includes strawberries because you don't like them.

these are not real strawberries. you do not have to, and in fact cannot, eat them. no one with a strawberry allergy will be harmed by looking at them. no migrant workers were exploited in the picking of these strawberries. there were no questionable farming practices or negative environmental impacts from growing or transporting them.

because - and i cannot stress this enough - they are not real strawberries.

if you don't like strawberries, you don't have to look at the paintings. in fact, you can get a map of the museum that lists what works are in what rooms and just. not go in there. if you see one by mistake, you can look away. just keep walking. there's plenty of other stuff to see.

yes, real strawberries can cause real quantifiable harm to real people.

but again. these are not real strawberries.

you may have whatever feelings you like about strawberries, and so can i. you can draw and write about whatever fruit floats your boat, and so can i, even if that happens to be strawberries. and we can hang our art side by side in the same gallery, provided you understand that my strawberries are not about you (and your kumquats are, shocker, not about me) and that - and this is true - neither are real.

and when the fascists break down the doors and grab all the strawberry paintings and heap them in the street and set them on fire, please know that they are coming for your kumquats next.

so if you want a place where you can show off your beautiful kumquat art safely, you're gonna have to tolerate having some strawberries in the next room.

and that's okay. because the strawberries aren't real.

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Apparently, my decision to be silly and make fanart of someone's writing (because I genuinely enjoy the story the person is writing and I was struck with inspiration upon reading a particular scene) has benevolent and wildly unforeseen consequences.

I apparently gained a bit of control of the canon because said writer really loved the art and decided what I drew/draw is canon.

2. Writer put said artwork into the document of his story right below the scene, so now it's IN the story where people who read the story will see it (with a link to me)

3. He sent the artwork to all his friends and people he knows because he was so excited

Wholesome interaction and I watched him do all that in real time, good stuff. However...there are two more consequences I was notified of today...nearly a full week after I gave the artwork.

Seeing the artwork caused his friends to become interested in reading and hearing about his story, which means more people are reading what he's writing and giving him critique on the story (which he actively asks for).

Apparently, upon seeing the art, his writer friends got a sudden second wind to pick back up writing they'd abandoned for a few months. Because, I quote, "seeing that someone enjoyed {his} writing enough to take the time to make art of it gave them the motivation that maybe THEY can write something that will inspire someone to also create something." I have accidentally caused a writing frenzy among his writer friends and my silly idea to make art for someone has had a butterfly effect for people who I don't even know.

Uhh...I'm pretty sure there's a moral here but I am tired and have a great deal of emotions about this.

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"READ MY DNI" no. use your block button like an adult. i'm not scrolling through the many-paragraphs-long pinned posts of every blog i reblog something from. if you insist certain types of people aren't welcome in the notes of your posts then it's your responsibility to curate that. or choose a closed social media platform like facebook or instagram. or go and live in a barn away from humanity if you really don't like sharing the world with people who are different from you

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once when I was at old retail job this woman came up to the counter very obviously on her phone with earbuds in which I consider extremely disrespectful so whenever someone did that I would like. wait for 20-30 whole ass long seconds to see if they even noticed I was alive and if they insisted on being an asshole i would ring them up because I had to but they would NOT get their rewards points or any sales unless they spoke to me and apologized ANYWAY the woman moseyed up full ass on the phone placing her Products to Purchase on the counter alongside her iPhone 97 or whatever but not speaking (???) which was kind of weird usually the Disrespectful ones would be in the middle of some Facetime conversation with half their family or something so I glanced down at the phone to see WTF was going on and if she was one of these people who skipped out on their work from home job to do errands and say "uh huh" every 2.5 minutes on the Office Zoom Call ANYWAY i took a gander to see what kind of corpo Inc. idiots were in the corner of the phone screen and it said...... "BetterHelp" And before the "ummmmmm" hit my body and as soon as I got my eyes back up in position the woman finally speaks she puts one finger up and says "Excuse me" taps to unmute and speaks into the phone and says for real "and how does that make you feel?"

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.

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what fucking millennium is it

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Im begging people to do the bare minimum to acknowledge the harm JKR has done to trans men and transmasculine people. Im imploring you to realize that her hatred does not pass over us on her way to other people. The first anti trans tweet that kicked off the whole panic was about language that included trans men in menstruation education. One of her first long winded Terf essays was about how the "evil trans craze was capturing our poor little teenage girls in its dirty slimy claws." Her ideas about pseudoscience like "rapid onset gender dysphoria" paved the way for garbage like "irreversible damage" to be written, which in turn is motivating bans on healthcare. JKR has motivated people into denying trans people their healthcare because she feels like we need to strip trans men of their autonomy in order to protect our confused little girly heads.

She has reduced trans men down to our reproductive abilities and infantilized versions of ourselves in order to keep us trapped in traditional gender roles that exploit us and our bodies.

Fucking acknowledged that, at the absolute least. And stop never talking about us.

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they went off with this

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I don't think people on the West Coast understand how much denser and multipolar the US is east of the Mississippi

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hey, what, absolutely WILD news

the linked article is a piece from the LA Times:

Edit: A lot of you are reblogging with commentary that clearly illustrates you haven't read the (short) linked article / press release. Maybe you should read it before making commentary. Yanno, make a habit of it.

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the unfortunate thing abt life is sometimes you Do have to wait for the bus in the rain and if you were a specific brand of annoying in 2012/13 this is significant