#i was a PAID INTERN for a nonprofit organization!

[oflgtfol]

the way some of you people say like oh its a nonprofit which means nobody gets paid…. Like how clueless are you. yes nonprofits tend to use a lot of volunteer labor, but that doesnt mean NO ONE gets paid, because most things require at least a handful of people to be there consistently and put consistent work in just to keep the thing running, which you can only guarantee by putting those people on an actual wage. this means that the money required to pay those full time staff are factored into the organization’s operational costs, which is NOT PROFIT. a nonprofit doesnt mean theres no money involved, it means that the money that is involved is not for profit. it will still have operational costs and the cost of paying the handful of full time employees that keep the organization running smoothly consistently and reliably are considered operational costs

[hyperlexichypatia]

This is a semi spinoff of this post, but really its own thought.

When a job pays less than a living wage, it generally attracts one of two types of employees:

Desperate people (usually poor and/or otherwise marginalized or with barriers to employment), who will take any job, no matter how bad, because they need the money, or

Independently wealthy people (usually well-off retirees, students being supported by their families, or women with well-off husbands*), who don't care about the pay scale because they don't need the money anyway.**

And sometimes, organizations will intentionally keep a job low-paying or non-paying with the deliberate intent of narrowing their pool to that second category.

People sometimes bring this up when discussing the salaries of elected officials -- yes, most politicians are paid more than most "regular people," but they're not paid enough to sustain the expensive lifestyle politicians have to maintain, and that's on purpose. It's not an oversight, and it's not primarily about cost-cutting. It's a deliberate barrier to ensure that only rich people can run for office.

The same is true, albeit to less severe effect, of unpaid internships -- the benefit of "hiring" an unpaid intern isn't (just) that you don't have to pay them; it's also that you can ensure that all your workers are rich, or at least middle-class.

When nonprofits brag about how little of their budget goes to "overhead" and "salaries", as if those terms were synonymous with "waste," what they're really saying is "All our employees are financially comfortable enough that they don't worry about being underpaid. Our staff has no socioeconomic diversity, and probably very little ethnic or cultural diversity." ***

This isn't a secret. I'm not blowing anything wide open here. People very openly admit that they think underpaid workers are better, because they're "not in it for the money." This is frequently cited as a reason, for example, that private school teachers are "better" than public school teachers -- they're paid less, so they're not "in it for the money," so they must be working out of the goodness of their hearts. I keep seeing these cursed ads for a pet-sitting service where the petsitters aren't paid, which is a selling point, because they're "not in it for the money."

"In it for the money" is the worst thing a worker could be, of course. Heaven forbid they be so greedy and entitled and selfish as to expect their full-time labor to enable them to pay for basic living expenses. I get this all the time as a public library worker, when I point out how underfunded and underpaid we are. "But... you're not doing it for the money, right?" And I'm supposed to laugh and say "No, no, I'd do it for free, of course!"

Except, see, I have these pesky little human needs, like food. And I can't get a cart full of groceries and explain to the cashier that I don't have any money, but I have just so much job satisfaction!

And it's gendered, of course it's gendered. The subtext of "But you're not doing it for the money, of course" is "But how much pin money do you really need, little lady? Doesn't your husband give you a proper allowance?"

Conceptually, it's just an extension of the upper-class cultural norm that "polite" (rich) people "don't talk about money" (because if you have to think about how much money you have or how much you need, you're insufficiently rich).

*Gendered language very much intentional.

**Disabled people are more likely to be in the first category (most disabled people are poor, and being disabled is expensive), but are usually talked about as if they're in the second category. We're told that disabled people sorting clothing for $1.03 an hour are "So happy to be here" and "Just want to be included," and it's not like they need the money, since, as we all know, disability benefits are ample and generous [heavy sarcasm].

***Unless, of course, they're a nonprofit whose "mission" involves "job placement," in which case what they're saying is "We exploit the poor and desperate people we're purporting to help." Either way, "We pay our employees like crap" is nothing to brag about.

[a-very-tired-jew]

That moment when you find out the anti-Zionist Jewish friend you have has been getting all their news, positions, and rhetoric from BreakThrough News. It explains so much of their sentiments towards the West in general, not just Israel. If you're unaware, The DailyBeast did a thorough report and investigation on BTN and how it's just a propaganda piece for the B, R, C, and S of BRICS. Many of its content creators are former Sputnik and RT personnel. They've downplayed the war in the Ukraine and repeatedly put out pro-Russia propaganda. They currently still put out pro-Russia/anti-Ukraine pieces, but also put out pro-Hamas/anti-Israel material as well.

They are part of an ever growing network of anti-Western media that defend the regressive policies of Russia and China while garnering support from Leftists who may find those policies bad, but are so driven by anti-Western rhetoric and belief that they're willing to make allies of of people, organizations, and governments that would likely see them stripped of their rights, imprisoned, and/or dead.

Please give their article a read.

I personally found this particular bit interesting:

BreakThrough’s filings, meanwhile, show it operates out of the People’s Forum in Manhattan, another organization that has acknowledged receiving dark money donations from Singham—whom the group praised on Twitter as “a Marxist comrade who sold his company & donated most of his wealth to nonprofits that focus on political education, culture & internationalism.” To date, Singham-linked groups have donated almost $20 million to the People’s Forum.

Sitting on the People’s Forum’s board is Claudia De La Cruz, who pulls triple duty as BreakThrough’s secretary and as a “co-coordinator/educator” for the Justice and Education Fund. An auditor’s report filed in New York shows that more of Singham’s money trickled down to BreakThrough from the Forum in the form of $80,575 in donated rent in 2021, the most recent year for which filings are available.

But when The Daily Beast visited the People’s Forum address, it found a bookstore hawking tomes by Prashad and titles from his Leftword imprint, as well as a coffee shop and an event space—but no evidence of a studio. What’s more, none of BreakThrough’s hosts appear among the staff listed in the outlet’s filings. Rather, the underlying nonprofit’s leadership consists of figures like De La Cruz who donate an hour a week to the organization, and who like De La Cruz are affiliated with the Party for Socialism and Liberation, a small far-left sect that does not appear to receive substantial donations from Singham or from anybody else. The PSL does, however, appear as an allied group to the International People’s Media Network on its webpage. Puryear and Becker, two of the BreakThrough anchors, are co-founders of the party.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not surprised due to the community they are part of. But it's really telling that they'll claim Zionists are spreading propaganda, are paid propaganda shills, and all the other lines we've heard since October while they themselves are spreading stuff like this. Yes there's the cliche line that every accusation is a projection, but I think in this case, because I know the individual so well, that it's sheer willful ignorance because those unvetted sources support The Narrative.

[urbanventures]

Meet Our Summer Interns at Urban Ventures!

Did you Know Urban Ventures' offers paid internships to college students each summer?

The Urban Ventures internship program offers an on-the-job experience for interns to apply their skills, majors, and interests in meaningful ways in our community.

By integrating into our various programs, these young leaders develop practical skills and professional confidence. Their fresh perspectives and enthusiasm are valuable in enhancing our services and outreach efforts, directly impacting the lives of those we serve.

We'd love to introduce the great team of interns that have been serving our neighborhood this summer. Below, you'll find bios written by each of our interns, offering a glimpse into their backgrounds, interests, and their positions.

MAREN BEATY - Academic Support Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“My name is Maren Beaty, I go to Bethel University, Majors: Elementary Education and Spanish.”

What is your intern role?

“I am the Academic Support Intern, so I will be involved with Summer Ventures, helping plan and organize many different things. I will also be working with students and providing support in classrooms.”

Why Urban Ventures?

“I chose to intern with UV because it was the perfect place for me to get experience with both of my majors. I have also volunteered for the after-school program in the Fall of 2022, and that was so much fun that I wanted more!”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impression of Urban Ventures is that I am impressed! UV does so much for the community and I am excited to join them in serving. My goals with this internship are to expand my ability to relate to and connect with people that come from different backgrounds. My future career goals include becoming a teacher and using Spanish in some capacity, I'm just not sure exactly how yet.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun?

“For fun, I enjoy spending time with friends and family, being outside, baking, and listening to music. I also love to travel, and I spent the spring in Spain studying abroad and traveling around Europe. Some fun facts about me are that I love dogs, I love sweet treats, and I can clap with one hand! My favorite movie would have to be Tangled.” 

SOPHIE CLAUSEN - Enrichment Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“I’m Sophie Clausen, University of Minnesota-Twin Cities, English Major and Art Minor.”

What is your intern role?

“Enrichment Intern. Currently working on preparing activities and materials for Summer Ventures/when the kids come to program. Once the kids come, I will be working on enrichment activities with them (art, music, sports, etc.), as well as planning, preparing, and organizing.”

Why Urban Ventures?

“I wanted to work in a nonprofit this summer because I had previously interned at one last summer and loved it. I would love to work in the field of nonprofits in the future and I connected with the Urban Ventures mission.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“Everyone here is so kind. Genuine kindness and compassion as well as always being readily available to help or listen! Everyone that works here is a wonderful person and so coming into work warms my heart. I would like to see more about how a nonprofit works as well as learning about working with children and education. I will be graduating soon so getting work experience and being in the field are all great experiences for me!”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun?

“I love anything to do with art, particularly music! I play bass in a band so I love jamming and making bass riffs and playing with my bandmates (or anyone really). I also love reading, writing, drawing, listening to music, and swimming! My favorite experience so far is getting to know who I work with and my teammates! I love talking with them and seeing their awesome personalities!! My favorite book is Annihilation!”

LIVIA WOOLDRIDGE - Farm Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“Hello, my name is Livia and I am a summer intern on Urban Ventures' Farm! I go to the University of Minnesota where I’m studying Plant Science with interests in horticulture and sustainable agriculture.”

What is your intern role?

“So far on the farm, we have spent time tending to our plants, leading field trips, and harvesting our early season crops.”

Why Urban Ventures?

“When I was looking for a summer internship, UV’s farm caught my eye because of its location in and near the city and the large number of people it supports and serves.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“After my first few weeks as an intern, I’ve really seen the outreach UV does from an inside perspective, especially with the field trips and interacting with youth in the community. Combining my love of plants, the outdoors, and connecting with others has made my experience so far very special. My favorite moments so far have been connecting with the kids who visit the farm. I am so inspired by their curiosity, silliness, and joy! After the internship, I plan to finish my degree and pursue a career that supports my values relating to plants, nature, and community. Being an urban farm manager is my dream, and this opportunity is preparing me to reach that goal.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun?

In my free time, I love to camp, hike, swim, read, and make art!

RILEY CHRISTENSEN - Farm Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“I’m Riley Christensen, University of St. Thomas 24’ B.S. in Environmental Science.”

What is your intern role?

“As a Farm Intern here at Urban Ventures, I work on daily gardening tasks such as watering, preparing beds, planting, weeding, and mulching as well as leading field trips on the farm with students from local schools. I also assist community members in picking out fruits and veggies at our summer farm stand”.

Why Urban Ventures?

“I chose to intern at UV because of the intersection between environment and community. Growing sustainable foods in an urban setting provides us with a unique opportunity to get people involved and learn about where their food comes from.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impression of UV and the farm program is that families and community members are excited and grateful for what we are doing, making our work feel rewarding and important. Seeing families come through the farm stand eager to get fresh produce and share recipes with each other has been a special thing to experience. During my internship I hope to gain experience in teaching children about plants and gardening as well as gain knowledge in how farms and gardens are designed and managed responsibly. I hope to continue my career in sustainable agriculture by making connections at UV and with our community partners. Since starting my internship at UV, I have also been expanding my cooking skills as a way to better connect with the foods that we grow. My favorite experience so far has been getting to know the chickens, particularly feeding and holding them in front of groups of young students that come to the farm. Growing up in the cities I did not get to see what day to day farm tasks look like, so it is exciting to me that children in the UV community are able to get this experience.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun, and a fun fact?

“Some of my favorite things to do in my free time include biking and playing guitar. My favorite TV show that I’ve watched recently is The Bear.”

HANA ALANAZI - Farm Intern

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“My name is Hana Alanazi. I am a St Thomas university graduate. I have a bachelor's degree in Public Health and a minor in Data Analysis.”

What is your intern role?  

“As a Farm Intern at Urban Ventures, my role involves a mix of farm work, youth engagement, and community interaction. I am responsible for planting, cultivating, and harvesting vegetables at our 5-acre farm in Lakeville. Additionally, I facilitate garden-based field trips for K-8 grade students and organize events for families at our 1-acre garden in Minneapolis.”

Why Urban Ventures?

“I chose to intern with Urban Ventures because of its strong commitment to community health and education. As a Public Health graduate with a minor in Data Analysis, I was particularly drawn to the opportunity to apply my knowledge in a practical setting that directly impacts under-resourced neighborhoods. The Urban Ventures Farm and Nutrition Program aligns perfectly with my passion for promoting healthy living and my desire to work with diverse communities.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impressions of Urban Ventures have been positive. Right from the start, I felt welcomed and supported by the team. The organization’s dedication to educating children and building a healthy community is evident in everything they do. The hands-on work in the garden and on the farm has been incredibly fulfilling. It’s amazing to see how our efforts directly benefit the community. Working with the kids and families has been a highlight for me. Seeing their excitement during garden-based field trips and events is inspiring. I’m grateful to be part of such a meaningful mission. During my internship, my primary goal is to create a meaningful impact within the communities we serve. I am eager to deepen my understanding of sustainable agriculture and to inspire children during field trips about healthier eating and sustainable practices. By being a positive role model, I hope to demonstrate potential career paths in agriculture that they might not have considered before. Looking ahead, my career aspirations are rooted in understanding community needs deeply and developing evidence-based programs that enhance people's lives positively. Drawing from my background in public health, I aim to contribute to initiatives that address health disparities and promote holistic well-being.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun, and a fun fact?

“I enjoy painting and playing pickleball, which provides an active outlet. I love traveling and have had the opportunity to visit nine different countries, broadening my appreciation for diverse cultures. One of my favorite experiences so far has been seeing the excitement on kids' faces during our garden-based field trips. One fun fact is that in 2022 alone, I was on 22 flights, traveling to various destinations.” 

ABBY LARSON - Farm Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“My name is Abby Larson. I am currently a student at St. Thomas studying biology.”

What is your intern role?  

“At Urban Ventures I am working as a Farm Intern. So far, we have been learning a lot about the farm's operations which have included harvesting lettuce, planting cucumbers, hosting field trips, and hanging out with the chickens.”

Why Urban Ventures?

“I chose to intern with Urban Ventures because the farm program intersects many of my interests such as agriculture, nutrition, and education. This internship also provides a great opportunity for me to get to know and serve my community.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impressions have left me in amazement at the vast programming UV offers and the care the staff has for one another. The environment of UV and the people in the community have been incredibly welcoming and great to be with. I am very excited to continue learning and cultivating on the farm! From this internship, I hope to gain knowledge in small farm practices and confidence in my ability to grow fruits and veggies! I also hope to gain skills in bringing the farm experience to those in our city. As far as career goals, I hope to one day teach science.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun, and a fun fact?

“In my free time, I enjoy cooking new recipes, reading, and spending time at the lake fishing and paddle boarding. I have recently taken an interest in making coffee! My favorite drink is a decaf maple latte.”

NISSA ALI - Marketing & Communications Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“Hi, my name is Nissa Ali. I am a rising junior at the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. I am majoring in Strategic Communications with a concentration in advertising and public relations”

What is your intern role?  

“I am the Marketing and Communications intern at Urban Ventures. I work with the advancement team to help enhance our social media presence and assist in developing communication strategies to reach the amazing Urban Ventures community!”

Why Urban Ventures?

“I chose to intern with UV because I am passionate about learning more and expanding my knowledge on communication and marketing.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impression of Urban Ventures was so positive! The whole team is so welcoming and supportive, and the work environment is dynamic and inspiring. I feel privileged to contribute to such meaningful projects. My goals for this internship are to hone my skills and develop more skills in marketing and communication. Even though that sounds broad, I’m still learning and I have so much love for strategic communication and community engagement, and this internship combines both of them!”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun, and a fun fact?

“Outside of work I enjoy exploring new coffee shops, traditional dancing, and practicing my drawing skills! A fun fact about me is I have three beautiful cats, two are twins named Zola and Zora and their new sister Banu. My favorite movies of all time are the Spiderman Marvel movies, specifically Spider-Man: Into the Spider Verse.” 

GISSELL MARTINEZ - Youth Mentoring Intern 

Who are you and where do you go to school?

“Hello! I’m Gissell Arevalo Martinez. Alumni of Concordia College in Moorhead and studied Psychology at Concordia.”

What is your intern role?  

I’m the Youth Mentoring Intern. Currently in Summer Ventures working with high schoolers and teaching them the Peak Performance course. The work involves making bonds with youth and finding ways to support them emotionally and spiritually.

Why Urban Ventures?

“I joined Urban Ventures because Urban Ventures is home, it's family.”

What was your first impression of Urban Ventures and what are your goals?

“My first impressions of Urban Ventures are that I had a brief knowledge of Urban Ventures growing up. I knew it helped multiple communities and my parents. I love youth work. It is hard work and very much needed. It is super fun! One of my goals is long lasting relationships. I hope to gain more fun new experiences with others alongside. I hope to continue to work with communities.”

Outside of work, what do you like to do for fun, and a fun fact?

“I love to dance. I often say that I came out dancing in the womb. I taught Zumba for some time, and still love it when I get a chance. I love arts and crafts. I love starting a new craft. Something fun I did was hiking for the first time just this past Friday!”

Thank you for supporting our internship program and the bright young individuals who are helping to drive our mission forward.  Consider donating to support programs like this! Click this link: https://urbanventures.org/donate

[yeats-infection]

you've organized a union?? bro how are you consistently this cool, like one human being shouldn't be able to contain all this coolness...rock on

i thank you my friend but organizing a union has nothing to do with being cool... organizing is also the easy and fun part compared to bargaining and stewarding!! i also have not done and am not doing anything on my own. i was asked if i wanted to help early in the organizing process and then was part of the bargaining committee and am now the shop steward. we have sort of a three-person union leadership committee with a vice-steward and somebody who works more externally with the broader labor movement. we also have a five-person labor-management committee that helps out a lot with larger actions when we do them.

all you have to do is start quietly talking to the coworkers you bitch about work with and explore if a few other people are interested. ANY employee at ANY kind of job can form a union and it's okay if the union is really small!! ours is about 50 people. others in our local are as small as 5-10. and others are thousands of people!

once you have a small group you can look into local unions in the area and reach out to them to talk about organizing. there are unions that cover lots of different kinds of workers (united auto workers is one, i'm a UAW member) and unions that cover specific kinds of workers (nonprofit professional employees union, communications workers of america, service employees international union, etc). you would look for a "local" (a smaller regional affiliate) of one of these unions that is based in your area. the employees of the local can help train you on how to organize a larger group toward an election and they'll also train you on bargaining and be with you in bargaining. keep in mind that it is illegal for management to retaliate against you for union activities!!!

my gentle words of advice would be that if you are going to do this you have to be in it for the long haul. it doesn't end with organizing, and it gets much harder after that. for that reason, hating your boss is not enough of a reason to organize - by all means hate your boss and laugh thinking of their face when they get the notice of election... but that will not carry you through literally years of fighting over every penny and every letter of the contract. i will recommend trying to reframe your thinking to come at it from a perspective of 1) building solidarity among the lowest-paid and least powerful people at the workplace and redistributing some power to them and 2) being solutions-oriented to repair problems in your workplace and have a say in your conditions.

another exciting piece is that a union is a 501c4 organization under the US tax code - so you can lobby federal, state, and local governments on your issues :)

i think overall the moral of the story is that if any of us want to actualize any progressive ideas in this world we are going to have to do more work. and i mean more work in real life. tweeting about leftism and yelling at each other on tumblr about which gay pirate show is more politically righteous (not to accuse you of doing this anon, lol) has literally zero impact on the material conditions of reality. bringing about any real redistribution of power in society is going to take MORE WORK from ALL of us!! forming a union is an important way to do that work, especially as the more of us that have unions the stronger the labor movement is, and organized labor has the power and built-in solidarity to make headway on a number of other progressive issues...

[mariacallous]

On December 13, 2022, a group of Bulgarian activists from the nonprofit United Bulgaria For One Cause (BOEC) tried to enter the offices of Telus International, a global outsourcing company that handles content moderation for Meta, in Bulgaria’s capital, Sofia. Live on Facebook, they came armed with printouts of posts and accounts they said had been removed from the platform, which they stuck to the office doors.

“We used stickers to symbolically close the doors of Telus, symbolic like they closed our accounts,” Orlin Ezekiev, a member of BOEC, says.

BOEC accuses Telus International of blocking posts that criticize Russia and support Ukraine. Their protest came weeks after a local outlet, Bird.bg, published allegations—which Telus International denies—that the outsourcing company was working with pro-Russian oligarchs to silence pro-Ukrainian sentiment on the platform. The website also posted the names and images of Telus International employees on its Facebook page.

Criticism of Telus International and Meta in Bulgaria reached such a height that the outsourcing company’s chief corporate officer, Marilyn Tyfting, was called to testify in front of the Bulgarian parliament on January 26. “I would also like to confirm that Telus International does not set content review policies. Instead we apply the policies of our clients and comply with applicable laws,” she said in a prepared statement. On February 1, Meta published a blog post responding to claims of pro-Russian bias in its content moderation, calling the accusations “false” and saying “there is no evidence to support them.”

However, experts who monitor Russian attempts to manipulate the information space in Europe say that the truth is more complex. Russian propagandists and supporters of the Kremlin have become adept at abusing Meta’s moderation practices—which are less robust in non-English languages—by reporting content en masse to trigger reviews that could ultimately lead to its removal. The lack of transparency over what gets removed and why has created a sense of betrayal and frustration, which has in turn led pro-Ukraine activists to target the largely powerless moderators responsible for enacting Meta’s policies. 

“Facebook is one of the main tools for promoting and silencing others at the same time,” says Ruslan Trad, a Sofia-based fellow at the Digital Forensic Research Lab. “Mass reporting is a very successful strategy.”

Trad, whose own Facebook account had once been suspended after being spuriously reported for hosting extremist content, says that pro-Russian groups will often organize on Telegram and choose which accounts or posts to report and get removed from Facebook. Some of these groups, according to Trad, operate from Russia, while others may be paid-for trolls from within Bulgaria, where labor is relatively cheap.

According to Todor Galev, director of research at the Center for the Study of Democracy, a European public policy think tank, the Atlantic Council’s Bulgarian Facebook page has been banned several times after being mass reported. He says the accounts of prominent pro-NATO and pro-EU journalists and media outlets have also been targeted.

“We suspect that Facebook relies mostly on algorithms for small markets like Bulgaria,” says Galev. “Because human moderation is very limited. There are only a few people working [on moderation] for Bulgaria.”

A former Meta employee who worked on its content moderation systems and policy, and who spoke to WIRED on the condition of anonymity, says, however, that mass reporting could at least get certain pieces of content or accounts flagged for review. And the more frequently a certain type of content is flagged, the more likely the algorithm will be to flag it in the future. However, with languages where there is less material to train the algorithm, like Bulgarian, and AI might be less accurate, the former employee says that it’s possibly more likely that a human moderator would make the final call about whether or not to remove a piece of content. 

Meta spokesperson Ben Walters told WIRED that Meta does not remove content based on the number of reports. “If a piece of content does not violate our Community Standards, no matter how high the number of reports is, it won’t lead to content removal,” he says. 

Some moderation issues could be the result of human error. “There are going to be error rates, there are going to be things that get taken down that Meta did not mean to take down. This happens,” they say. And these errors are even more likely in non-English languages. Content moderators are often given only seconds to review posts before having to make a decision about whether or not it will stay online, an indicator through which their job performance is measured.

There is also a real possibility that there could be bias among human moderators. “The majority of the population actually supports Russia even after the war in Ukraine,” says Galev. Galev says that it’s not unreasonable to think that some moderators might also hold these views, particularly in a country with limited independent media.

“There’s a lack of transparency around who is who is deciding, who is making the decision,” says Ivan Radev, a board member of the Association of European Journalists Bulgaria, a nonprofit, which put out a statement condemning Bird.bg’s posting of employee information. “This sentiment is feeding dissatisfaction in Bulgaria.” This opacity can breed confusion.

The imbalance between the ability of coordinated campaigns to get content flagged, and that of individuals or small civil society organizations, whose reports go to human moderators, has helped to create an impression in Bulgaria that Meta is prioritizing pro-Russian content over pro-Ukrainian content.

Just over half of Bulgaria’s 6.87 million people use Facebook, which is the dominant social platform in the country. Bulgaria has long been a target of Russian trolls and pro-Russian propaganda, particularly since the beginning of the war in Ukraine. Both sympathetic local media and Russian disinformation operations have pushed a pro-Russia narrative, blaming the conflict on NATO.

Ezekiev, the BOEC member, told WIRED that he was never given an explanation for why his content was removed or how the choice was made. “If you raise your voice against propaganda and say something about the war in Ukraine, your account can be suspended,” he says. Meta’s own lack of transparency about its moderation processes, says Ezekiev, makes the entire situation murkier.

It is this frustration that drove BOEC to protest at Telus International’s Sofia office, and led to employees—themselves largely powerless—being doxed and harassed, though there is no evidence that any of the company's moderator deviated from Meta’s own instructions.

In February, Bulgarian media reported that Telus International would be closing its operations in the country and moving the work to Germany. “As part of a consolidation of operations, the work Telus International does for Meta in Sofia will be moving to another of our sites,” says Telus International spokesperson Michelle O'Brodovich. “Telus International continues to work successfully with Meta, ensuring the highest level of professional standards.” The company did not address whether or not the inquiries into its work in Bulgaria contributed to this decision.

[theviews0]

The Views at Harbortown in Jacksonville, FL

The Views at Harbortown has extraordinary three bedroom apartments in Intracoastal Waterway. What is it with many people? Well, it’s perfect for young families since the bedrooms are spacious. Interestingly, The Views at Harbortown is a well-known living space in the said location. The Views at Harbortown is only minutes to several beaches, including Neptune Beach and Atlantic Beach. In other words, you can enjoy beautiful places nearby and live in a luxurious apartment at the same time. Moreover, residents also enjoy easy access to coffee shops, outdoor restaurants, and several malls. Lastly, you can experience luxury coastal living at The Views at Harbortown.

Jacksonville, FL

These days, preparing an itinerary is one of the exciting stages of travel preparation. In looking for pre-scheduled activities in Jacksonville, FL location, it is vital to check out online posts. By looking Eventbrite posts, for example, you can find future events. First, there will be a paid event named Puff Puff Paint Hosted by Party & Paint on Saturday, August 24, 2024, at around 8:00 PM at 4747 San Juan Avenue. Second, the RnBMostly: Summer's End is scheduled on Saturday, August 24, 2024, at around 10:00 PM at 331 E Bay Street. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the Electronic Thursdays Presents: Reaper - The Challenger Tour on Thursday, October 3, 2024, at around 9:00 PM at Myth Nightclub | Element Bistro & Craft Bar.

The Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary

Did you just realize that The Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary is one of the ideal sites for sightseeing? Well, it’s understandable since there are many pictures of the said place posted on social media. Basically, the aforementioned tourist attraction is a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization situated in Jacksonville, Florida, serving Duval, Saint Johns, Clay, Nassau, and Baker counties. Moreover, they’re also proud to be a top destination for many national and international visitors. They are humbled and honored to be Trip Advisor’s #1 attraction in Jacksonville. Additionally, one of the main missions of Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary is to provide a safe, loving and forever home to endangered big cats.

Motorcyclist dies in multi-vehicle crash on Arlington Expressway

There are many shocking news reports in Jacksonville, FL area. In a recent news article, the topic was about a highway accident. Reportedly, a motorcyclist died Wednesday in a multi-vehicle crash on Arlington Expressway, according to the Florida Highway Patrol. FHP mentioned that just before 6:00 in the evening, a 35-year-old woman was speeding while driving west on Arlington Expressway while a pickup truck was driving in the right lane. Moreover, it was also mentioned in the news that the FHP report said the motorcyclist did not slow down on a curve, causing the woman to run into the pickup truck.

Link to map

The Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary 1860 Starratt Rd, Jacksonville, FL 32226, United States Get on I-295 S from Dunn Creek Rd, New Berlin Rd and Alta Dr 10 min (5.1 mi) Follow I-295 S and FL-10 E/Atlantic Blvd to Riverview Dr 18 min (13.5 mi) Drive to Atlantic Blvd Service Rd 30 sec (0.1 mi) The Views at Harbortown 14030 Atlantic Blvd, Jacksonville, FL 32224, United States

[sommer-girl]

Hello Father (Once More) | Self Para

Date: 8 June 2023 Featuring: Agnarr Sommers Warnings: Manipulative dad stuff :/

For context:

The Future is Calling (Again)

Anna gives her father the news.

The last time Anna and her father had discussed her future plans was Christmas. Over dessert, they'd had an awkward conversation about her internships and her potential transferrable skills. Father had suggested that there might be an opening in Arendelle's intern program, and while Anna had acted mildly interested, truthfully, it was the last thing she wanted.

Maybe she could have taken it and changed things from the inside. Maybe. But all Anna could see was the leverage her father would have over her, having gotten her this job. He had enough of that, being her father and paying for all the things he paid for and Anna still remembered crying in the stairwell because she thought her father was going to pull her out of school.

And maybe that was a sad thought, that Anna thought of it as leverage now. That their relationship was no longer just a father and a daughter, but two agents of the complicated world of Arendelle politics. Maybe it had never been so simple, Anna had only just opened her eyes to it recently.

In any event, she couldn't accept any kind of offer like that from her father. Even if she wound up in Arendelle (because she did think there was a small part of her that always ached to return to Arendelle) she was going to have to make her own way.

So she'd only given Father vague answers since then. She had opportunities lined up, Anna had assured him whenever he had asked. Nothing confirmed, but... there were things in the works. That was how she put it. Whether or not it really felt true.

(Did a part of her wish she could tell him the truth? Did a part of her want to break down and tell him everything, that she was so scared because she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, only that she didn't want to be like him? Of course she wished that. But of course she couldn't. And she'd known this all along, but it still hurt to face).

Now, she finally had something to report. She'd thought she'd feel more triumphant about it. But that familiar anxiety was creeping in, that familiar craving for her father's approval despite hating everything he stood for.

"Dad?" Anna said in a small voice when he picked up the phone. Her hand trembled as she spoke. This call had a decidedly different tone from her triumphant one with Olaf, just minutes before.

She wished she were brave like Elsa. Elsa, who could fight with Dad and stand her ground and ice him out if she needed to. Anna had always been softer.

"Anna, this is a surprise."

"I have some news."

"Oh?" A pause. "Good news?"

"Um, yeah."

Well, it was complicated news, honestly, bittersweet, but Anna wasn't admitting that to her father. She could have that conversation with other people. Not with him. Her stomach twisted as she was confronted with this reality.

"I just accepted an offer for a job. With, um, an organization in Arendelle. It's a nonprofit. They, uh, advocate for fairy rights. It's called Fremover-"

"Yes, I'm familiar with Fremover." His tone was suddenly short, clipped, irritated. Like this was a personal insult to him. "Anna, have you really done your research about this organization? And everything they stand for?"

"Y-yes, of course-"

"Because Anna, I worry about you. You have a tendency to jump into these things, you get these notions in your head and you don't think them through. And then people take advantage of you. These people, they've caused problems for us from the beginning..."

He went on and on, long enough that the lump in Anna's throat began to subside and the tears that were pricking at her eyes were gone again. Because it dawned on her, suddenly, that it was never going to be enough for him, was it? She'd gotten into uni— not the one he wanted. She'd chosen a study program she liked— but he thought she wouldn't keep up. She'd graduated— but he'd hardly seemed impressed. And now Anna had a job, a job she was really excited about, a job that was the culmination of everything she'd studied and learned and begun to care about these past few years— and he was telling her that she'd been hoodwinked into it.

When she thought about it in that way, Anna had to laugh to herself. All this time, she'd chased milestone after milestone trying to get her father to respect her, when in reality, there was no finish line. Maybe he wanted her to rely on him, because he wasn't ready for a world in which she made her own choices. Or maybe he just couldn't see the person she'd grown into.

Because she had grown. She'd made a lot of mistakes. She'd trusted all the wrong people, and she'd hurt all the people she loved. There were a million do-overs Anna wished she could have, and maybe Fremover would turn out to be one of them. She couldn't know for sure. And maybe that was okay. Olaf always said that there was a lesson to be learned, and Anna believed him.

So even if this was a mistake, Anna would just have to find that out for herself. And hopefully learn something. And she would have friends with her every step of the way.

It hurt to think that her father couldn't be one of them. But Anna couldn't make him be there for her. She could only tell him the truth. That she loved him, and that she also maybe needed to live her life without his input. That was what her therapist told her, anyway. What was the word she used? Boundaries?

"Dad," she said firmly, interrupting him for once. "This is my decision. And if it's a mistake, it'll be my mistake. You don't have to agree with me. But I'm an adult now. I need to be able to make my own choices." Her voice still shook, but she was proud of herself for saying it at all.

"Anna—"

"No, Dad." The more Anna spoke, the stronger her voice became, and the more sure she felt about this. "It's not a discussion. I was just calling to tell you the good news." She couldn't keep an edge of bitterness out of her tone. "I love you. Maybe we can get coffee sometime when I'm in town. I'll be there next week."

And that was it. Anna hung up the phone and stuck it in her bag and when she stepped back outside into the sunshine, she felt lighter than she'd felt in a long time. Had she really just done that? Had she really just spoken to her father like that?

Anna set off west. There was exactly one person she wanted to talk to about this— who would hopefully be much more excited about her good news, too. And best of all, they could do it over chocolate ice cream.

[automatismoateo]

Those who give to the LDS Church deserve an accounting of their money, Salt Lake Tribune Editorial Board writes via /r/atheism

Those who give to the LDS Church deserve an accounting of their money, Salt Lake Tribune Editorial Board writes

The question of the church’s wealth goes well beyond Ensign Peak Advisors.

And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living. — Mark 12:41-44

All over the world today, there are good and decent families, members in good standing of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, who faithfully cast in the 10% of their income that is expected from active believers.

For some, tithing is easy. For others, it is the modern equivalent of the widow’s mites — a contribution that puts them that much closer to the financial edge. Yet they give, with faith that these funds will be put to use as God would have it.

Those who give deserve more than to be held in the good graces of ecclesiastical leaders. They deserve a full and public accounting of where their contributions go and how they are spent — if they are spent.

The issue has been in the news because a former employee of the church-owned Ensign Peak Advisors investment firm started complaining that the company’s $100 billion or more in assets was not being properly managed, that leaders were not distributing funds to charity, and that Ensign Peak Advisors avoided billions in income taxes and fines.

Whistleblower David Nielsen took his case to the IRS in 2019 and has since tried to interest the U.S. Senate Finance Committee in the matter. More recently, according to The Wall Street Journal, the federal Securities Exchange Commission has also opened a file.

While the legal process plays out, the real issue for the church and those who fund and support it is the shroud of secrecy the church has kept, not only over Ensign Peak since its creation in 1997 but also the church’s many other assets and real estate holdings. It has created a situation in which a fund that has more cash and assets than many nations is not being transparent.

Every large organization — whether it is a government, a corporation or a nonprofit religious institution — is more likely to make the right decisions and keep to the ethical high ground if what it does is open and its leaders kept accountable. The LDS Church seemed to be aware of that up until the late 1950s, when it stopped making public accountings of its funds and financial activities.

Now, nobody knows if Ensign Peak or other church-owned firms are independently audited, if they have internal audit committees, if top leadership of the church even knows what is going on. And the larger community is left to wonder if those operations are dodging perhaps substantial taxes they should have paid, leaving the rest of the nation, Latter-day Saint and otherwise, to pick up the slack.

Latter-day Saint leaders have been releasing some information about their financial dealings recently, including making quarterly SEC filings. But the old fear that full disclosure of the church's wealth would discourage people from keeping up their tithing has not gone away.

It may seem odd to see a $100 billion anything as the tip of an iceberg, but even that large fund is not the whole of the church’s assets, which also include other businesses, along with vast and varied real estate holdings.

Even accepting the church’s view that the point of tithing is not to make the church wealthy but to give the faithful a tangible means of expressing their devotion, it still falls to those to manage all that money and property to let members know where it goes.

Latter-day Saint officials have drawn a distinction between the tithing money that flows in and the profit earned when those funds are invested. It is from those profits, not the original tithing gifts, says the church, that billions have gone into such things as the City Creek Center shopping mall on the doorstep of church headquarters in Salt Lake City. Or to bail out the church-owned Beneficial Life insurance company.

An expansive reading of the First Amendment might grant the church, or any faith, an exemption from the laws regarding taxes, investments and public reporting requirements. But that would not excuse church leaders from the moral duty to make a full and detailed accounting of their holdings, investments and expenditures to members.

If those leaders are concerned that membership might not like what they would see, the answer would be to show that many of those billions were going to heal the sick, house the homeless, clothe the naked and feed the hungry, just as they have been admonished.

Downtown Salt Lake City, also right on the church’s doorstep, would be a good place to start.

Making such a report would do more to promote and grow the church than the travels of any number of missionaries. And it would simply be the right thing to do.

— The Salt Lake Tribune editorial board

https://www.sltrib.com/opinion/editorial/2023/02/19/those-who-give-lds-church-deserve/

Submitted February 20, 2023 at 07:57AM by Chino_Blanco (From Reddit https://ift.tt/VlRdK3B)

[carlfranzen]

Brain Freeze

“Fuckin A,” Declan said aloud to no one from where he lay, sprawled out on the old sleeper couch, the one he’d slept on every night for the past two months—still in seating mode, never unfolded out into a bed.

He reached out his arm and fumbled for his phone on the clear plexiglass coffee table to check the time. But when he finally found his squishy, fleshy, device amidst the empty, torn bag of cheddar popcorn, the overturned can of San Pellegrino tangerine flavored sparkling water, and the frosted white glass bubbler with mildly used, amber water inside, he was reminded again that it was all out of battery. 

Worse still, he was still just too lazy to get up and walk the four steps over to the counter and the charging pad he shared with Sheila

“Share,” was a bit of a generous word, a stretch, if Declan was being honest. His college ex-girlfriend, the woman who’d taken his virginity and later became his good friend after he came out, was allowing him to crash with her after Declan’s breakup with Sean, his boyfriend of half a decade.

Sean hadn’t kicked Declan out of the apartment they’d been cohabitating before (well, more Sean’s apartment) but he didn’t try to stop Declan from leaving, either. Declan knew he probably should’ve tried to stay for at least a little while after their breakup for the cost savings alone—as awkward as it would have been, living with a fresh ex. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. And less so because of the constant reminder it would have been of their love lost, turned sour and spoiled, and more because of the shame he felt in the overarching circumstance that had weighed on their relationship for its duration and finally broken it for good: the money problem. 

As director of an environmental justice nonprofit, Sean made far more than Declan’s shitty photo editor jobs ever paid. More importantly, at least in Sean’s eyes, it was far steadier.

Declan had been laid off three times in a row from jobs during the course of their relationship, which to Sean suggested some deficiency in Declan’s character, a lack of hard work and discipline, of responsibility, of maturity and adulthood. And Sean, with all his careerism and organization and savvy internal politics gamesmanship and regularly updated calendar and zeroed out inbox, was not interested in dating a child, as he reminded Declan with growing frequency until their break up. 

“The math doesn’t lie, Dec,” Sean would say, the cool, smooth patience on the surface of his voice masking a dagger sharp accusatory tone underneath, one Declan felt emerging more pointedly with every progressive conversation about his career. “Three jobs in a row, three different places, the only common denominator is you. You need to do some serious self-reflection and questioning, ask yourself how you keep ending up back here.” 

Declan usually scoffed at Sean’s accusation and would move quickly to defend himself from his boyfriend’s critique. “That’s totally unfair! They were three completely different situations! My entire team was laid off this time, and with Orbit News, the whole fucking company shut down! There was nothing I could do. No amount of kissing ass or playing politics or working harder or anything could have saved me.” 

And Sean would just sigh and glance down a moment and look disappointed, the state he constantly returned to with Declan, and shrug and flash his stupid, beautiful, heart melting smile and say “okay, I hear you. And I’m here to help to the extent that I can.” But his eyes would remain sad and forlorn. 

Finally, six months after Declan’s last layoff, when he still unemployed except for the occasional cat sitting and line holding gig, they had a version of that conversation, that argument, to call it what it was, for the last time. Declan wasn’t pleased with how he’d blown up and stormed out, but what he’d said at the time was true: he wasn’t sure he could ever be the person Sean wanted or expected of him, let alone who Sean deserved, and he was done trying to fit his square peg personality into Sean’s round hole of a life. 

Sean was better at holding down a job than Declan, but so what? Sean had clearly found something that suited him well, good for him. Declan viewed that outcome as much to do with luck and circumstance as it was to his ex-boyfriend's obvious talents and abilities, his merits. 

Declan, by contrast, had endured something of a rocky career journey. He’d fallen in love with photography and old cameras as a teenager in Los Angeles, and gone across the country to New York University for photojournalism — a compromise between his true aspirations to pursue art photography and his dad’s admonition about higher education entirely.

“You’re going to go pay some asshole to teach you obsolete bullshit when you could learn everything for free, on your own, online?” his dad would say. “You think these fucking profs know anything about the real world? They’ve been living in ivory towers for decades, they can’t teach ya shit, Declan. I’m telling you, you want a degree? You don’t need it, look at me!” 

“You got a degree,” Declan noted in one such conversation. “College is where you met mom.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't change that it was still a huge waste of money,” His dad answered, eyes wide and wild. “Did it teach me anything about vlogging or building an audience or monetizing my subscribers? Hell no, my man! I started figuring shit out on my own, didn’t ask anyone for permission or help. That’s how I built this life we all enjoy now, just trying shit out myself and seeing what worked.” 

That part was true, as far as Declan could tell, though he privately quibbled with the word “enjoy.” Declan certainly did not enjoy his dad’s obnoxious and constant filming of all their private domestic dramas and staged misadventures, his narration and editorializing of what Declan and his older brother Moe and their mom felt and thought—even filming Declan’s coming out speech—all pandering to the audience of millions of fucking random, sycophantic losers around the world who tuned in to his YouTube channel.

And Declan was pretty damn sure Moe and his mom didn’t enjoy it after a while either, which is why his mom divorced their dad when they were still teenagers and gone and joined a fucking wellness cult out in the Valley, while his brother had married some hippie hiker chick and moved with her out to the wilderness in bum-fuck West Virginia and dropped off the grid. 

Declan too, couldn't wait to flee his father's influence. He went to NYU and planned to never look back, only to discover that photojournalism wasn’t for him. He had no real interest in documenting atrocities nor injecting himself in flashpoints of conflict, domestic or abroad. No, he preferred capturing the magic of the mundane and peaceful, the quiet moments and laughter and life around the city; the poetry of inanimate objects like leaves and trash; the eternally moving sight of buildings bathed orange in the rays of sunset; which it unfortunately seemed was not an interest shared by enough people with enough money to be an actual paying job. 

It didn’t help that when he was going to school in the 2040s, particle cameras started becoming cheaper and way more popular. Tiny solar-powered devices the size of a pea or smaller with adhesive backing, people could and did stick them to pretty much anything, from their clothing to buildings and vehicles. These cameras had AI that automatically detected and captured interesting and beautifully composed scenes. You could review all the photos in an app, pick your favorites, and publish them to whatever social media network or website or e-commerce platform of your choosing. The photos they took tended to be pretty generic and uninspired in their framing, Declan thought, especially since they were usually captured from one constant angle. But they were good enough for most audiences, and affordable enough that you could buy a whole bunch, stick them in multiple locations, and link them together in the app, giving basically anyone who desired a small army of competent photographers for a fraction of the price of one human like him. 

As a result, human composed photography quickly became a profession restricted to a very small group of already famous photographers who’d shot models and celebrities for fashion spreads and movie premieres, red carpet shit; and seedy paparazzos; and the extreme war photographers and adventurers, which he was not by constitution; and the independently wealthy —which he supposed he sort of qualified as if you counted his dad’s social media influencer fortune, but which he assiduously avoided bumming off of because it would entail the unpleasantness of speaking to his father, of sublimating himself before him, of admitting tacitly or expressly that his dad had in some ways been right all along—his college tuition had been a waste and not led him to a promising career of any sort. 

No, instead Declan found himself taking on the photographer-adjacent role of “photo editor” at news publications and companies that needed inoffensive photos to market their shit, basically sifting through all the photos taken by particle cams and a select fortunate few human photogs, curating a selection and touching them up, and sending them over to an uninspired, fast-talking, dimwitted mid-level executive whose title was like, VP of sales or marketing or some droll shit, and letting them pick the final images to be posted alongside an article or in an advertisement or wherever (ultimately, it didn’t matter where they ended up, as it was typically for something short lived and forgettable, and Declan himself could barely remember after a day’s work just what the hell he had been doing — his mind simply went blank, onto autopilot.) 

As a younger single man in New York, he’d still made time to take his own photos on the side of his day job, and even tried to sell prints as a street vendor in Washington Square Park and Union Square and Tompkins Square— all the fucking squares. In winter, he'd set up a small collection of photos in the long, poorly lit, dirty hallways of the subway. But no matter the season, Declan never made enough to pay off his costs of printing and materials.

After a few years of failing to commercialize his art, the art he actually enjoyed making and seeing in the world, Declan gradually ceased. He sold off most of his cameras and lighting and other equipment and resigned himself to his fate as a lowly white-collar cog. 

Declan's camera equipment fetched a good chunk of cash, but he burned through it all within a few months after his last layoff, and was now living on unemployment plus the income from sporadic gig work—barely enough to keep him fed. 

He definitely couldn’t contribute much to rent or any other bills, and understood why Sean had gotten fed up. Maybe Declan really was a failure as a human being, truly a misfit, belonging nowhere and to no one, and maybe all of his attempts to succeed to the contrary had been futile and fatally doomed from the start, fighting the inevitable entropy that had now led him to his only logical end point, into a rut. 

More than a rut. A ditch on the side of the highway full of trash. The bottom of a long abandoned, dried out well. A fucking canyon. A bottomless pit. Alone and unloved. Useless. Worthless. 

He sighed and thought about closing his eyes, but was conscious of the hot, sweaty night air and his gnawing cotton mouth. He desperately needed a drink. All Sheila had left in the fridge was beer, which he wasn’t interested in, and tap water, which couldn’t possibly hydrate his bone dry tongue and throat. 

He needed to go to the bodega down the street, which was open 24 hours and had a plethora of drinks behind a wall of transparent cooler doors. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, but something neon colored, sugary sweet, ice cold. 

He winced as the craving brought back his most painfully embarrassing childhood memory: the "I'm soooo cold!" viral meme he'd accidentally become, immortalized for eternity online thanks to his dad.

Back when Declan was six years old, his father took him to Target on one of many shopping trips to buy the most outrageous, ridiculous holiday decor they could find. His dad would bring it all back to their home in Yorba Linda and "surprise" the rest of their family, filming their astonished and perturbed reactions.

On this particular trip, Declan was hungry or thirsty or maybe just whiny. When his eyes landed on the Icee drink machines — two transparent tubs filled with churning blue and red slushy liquid, glistening seductively under the bright store lighting — it was game over. He knew he had to have one. 

His dad acquiesced, but of course, filmed the entire process on his smartphone, starting with Declan’s excitement, his literal jumping up and down, his chanting of “Ice-EE, Ice-EE!” and finally, Declan triumphantly slurping the drink through a thick red straw, only to go catatonic with shock, his face clenching so tight his features appeared to collapse into a pit of gnarled flesh in the center, as he wailed in his prepubescent voice: “It’s sooooooo cooooold!” 

His dad chuckled warmly in response. “Aww, you got a little brain freeze there, bud?” 

And yeah, if had been just a little brain freeze, it would have been a cute but inconsequential, forgettable childhood moment. But by recording and posting the moment for posterity on his YouTube channel, Declan’s father made him into a pop culture artifact: "Icee Kid," a.k.a. "I'm Soo Cold" Kid.

Millions of people reshared the video, adding their own reactions, their laughing faces and large watery eye emoji, their commentary of “lol” and “awww” and “I can’t stop watching this,” and “poor kid," using it to joke about and illustrate mildly comedic situations in their own lives —“stepping onto my bathroom tile floor with bare feet,” "when she says she thinks we should see other people" “me at my gyno appointment.” 

All the major news networks caught onto it, and Declan and his family did some live interviews on Good Morning America and other shitty daytime broadcast TV shows. He remembered the audience screaming outside the studio windows, mostly older women, his mom’s age, and their kids, too. He wasn’t sure why they weren’t in school. The way the moms looked at him wearing shirts with his face and his words, their eyes alight with intense fixation, a kind of lust, almost. It made him feel creeped out, observed too closely and yet missed entirely for who he really was, and felt like that was how it must feel to be an animal in an enclosure at the zoo.

Declan could admit that he did enjoy a brief surge in popularity at his elementary school as a result of being the "I'm Soo Cold" Kid, with the cool kids even asking him to appear in their vlogs, for once. But his aura of celebrity quickly wore off, and within a few months it had been mostly forgotten or turned against him, used to bully and taunt him anew with calls of “cold cock,” and “Icee bitch" echoing at him down the halls. 

His dad thought the whole thing was awesome and hilarious of course. And why wouldn’t he? The clip paid for at least a few years of their family’s income after his dad started selling cheap memorabilia  —  shirts, hoodies, hats and mugs, even shovels and ice scrapers — with a still frame from the video showing Declan’s silly expression and the words “I’m sooooo cooold!” printed on them.

Now, nearly 30 years later, Declan was sure his dad still made some small amount of money from these merch sales and the ad impressions on the video. It had crossed Declan’s mind to confront his father and demand a cut of the profits — after all, it was Declan’s likeness, Declan’s public humiliation that had birthed the meme, and without his express, informed, adult consent. If anything, his dad should be paying him to go to therapy to recover from the violation. But again, the idea of conversing with his father in any capacity seemed like more trouble than it was worth. So Declan just kept his resentment simmering deep inside him and scraped by on his own. 

Declan thought about all this as he wandered downstairs and outside of Sheila's apartment. The street was quieter and more desolate than he expected. Sheila lived down south in one of the few remaining quasi-industrial areas of Brooklyn. There were a few cafes and laundromats and even a small art gallery nearby, but it was hardly a top destination for anyone in the city, let alone anyone young and trendy and zwarmy.

The air still felt thick and soupy with humidity. As Declan approached the first intersection, he heard a whining, whirring, screaming machine sound that seemed to tigger a similar acceleration of his heart. As he stepped out into the road, was nearly run down by a hover bike zipping by.

Fucking dick, Declan thought to himself, once he quieted his pulsating chest. They’d only been around a few years now, but the damn hoverbikes were an ever growing scourge to those navigating the city without them. Too loud, too fast, too often ridden by young hotheads with poor self control. He wasn’t a fan of most state sponsored bans on anything, but he could make an exception for these fucking flying menaces.

He could see the bodega now up ahead of him at the end of the next block, a glowing white light beckoning him like a beacon. As he moved toward it, he heard a crackle of radio static and a voice blaring above him. He glanced up to his left and saw an open window on the top story of an apartment building, the room lit yellow from within.

There was no visible figure up there, or even a silhouette, just a gauzy curtain undulating casually in the gentle breeze. The radio voice was saying something about how particle physicists at CERN were racing to help the astronauts stranded around Enceladus, one of Saturn’s moons, repair their spacecraft’s damaged particle engine so they could return home, even as their supplies dwindled.

Declan had been following the suspenseful, real-life saga of the first human crewed mission to the outer reaches of the solar system about as closely as everyone had around the world — which was to say, sporadically — or maybe even a little closer because Sheila worked as a producer at at WNYC, the New York public radio station, which had been broadcasting regular updates about it (perhaps even the very one he’d heard in the window). The mission had launched to great fanfare a few years ago and was supposed to be an incredible milestone —  humanity’s first trip to the place likeliest to support alien life — until their spacecraft had reached the extraterrestrial moon, only to be inundated by dangerous radiation and debris. 

Oh, and one of the astronauts had gone mad and suggested they were under attack by aliens capable of manipulating spacetime, though this had been dismissed by his colleagues and experts as a mental illness episode triggered by the stress of the mission. Now it had become a rescue drama and all of Earth was pulling for the stranded crew. Whatever, it was tragic and thrilling, but ultimately unimportant to Declan — he wished them well, but had enough to worry about in his own sad, lonely existence in this solar system.

Declan kept moving. He was almost there now, could see the curiously foggy, backlit windows of the bodega; the neon dotted signs for “OPEN” and “BEER” blinking in his vision; he could almost taste the cool, sweet, blue liquid running down his throat, moisturizing his parchment-dry mouth like rain in the desert. 

But a dark shape rounded the corner just as he was within reach of the door handle, forcing him to awkwardly side step them. At first they were just a silhouette, a blob outlined by the white of the bodega light. Then as they continued on, their details resolved. They were shorter than him, an elder femme, ancient actually, her yellow-brown skin thin and wrinkly, as ashen as his mouth felt. She wore a bonnet on her head and walked with a herky herky mechanical gait, reminding him of a video game character glitching and stuttering. 

Declan was confused and alarmed by this motion at first, until he noticed the strips of metal encasing her arms and legs, the tiny gears at her joints spinning rapidly as she walked away from him obliviously. An exoskeleton, one of the new affordable ones the pharmacies had started carrying in the last few years, lightweight robotic suits that helped those with physical impediments walk and carry heavier objects than they’d otherwise be able to. 

Declan imagined unprompted that this dark skinned femme was a longtime resident of the neighborhood, one who’d managed to hang on as it has gentrified and more white faces like his and Sheila’s had shown up. She probably resented their asses, hated seeing them moving in, making her neighborhood more expensive and bougie and alien to her. His kind was like an invasive species, crowding out the previous inhabitants and ultimately destroying the ecosystem. He felt a sudden and surprisingly deep pang of guilt at this — more than a pang, a geyser, like a reservoir had been tapped. But also, a sense of injustice, of being mislabeled. He was almost certainly poorer and worse off than her. He wished he could tell her this, somehow, or even just share the feeling telepathically: I’m not a threat. I’m not like them. I’m like you. I hate them too. 

Declan sighed and pulled open the door to the bodega, analog bells jangling and announcing his arrival. As he did, he felt an immediate blast of ice cold air — the AC was cranked up far higher than he’d ever felt it in there — and a motion swishing down by his legs. He looked down and saw clouds of cold vapor swirling out the door, and then Scraps, the old white and grey tabby cat that called the bodega home, sprinting outside faster than Declan thought he was capable of moving. It seemed as though he were racing toward something, perhaps some rat he’d spotted, or possibly fleeing from something or someone inside the store.

Declan discovered the apparent source of Scraps’s anxiety not long after. For as he moved into the bodega, he saw something glowing bright white and blue through the white fog, behind the tall shelves crowded with large bags of chips, cereal, cookies, canned food, chocolate bars, crackers, and other assorted dry goods. The light appeared to be coming from the very center of the store, not the beverage coolers alongside the left wall, which were flickering oddly and dimly in comparison. The light seemed to be pulsating rhythmically, brightening and darkening in perfectly timed intervals, like the beating of some mighty, luminous heart. He heard it too, a whisper at first that rose in volume and intensity into a rushing, a howling, a wailing, like a cold wind blowing forlornly across a desolate tundra. The vapor clouds swirled around the store furiously. The air grew even colder on his skin, raising his arm hairs and sending an electric prickle up and down his limbs. 

His desperate thirst momentarily forgotten, Declan moved closer to the light, pulled by an irresistible fascination and terror. 

The floor beneath his feet was coated with a layer of ice, shiny and clouded with curling lines of frost, like a hundred miniature whirlpools frozen stiff. 

And there up at the counter was the cashier, one of the older Arab guys who ran the bodega. At least, Declan thought they were Arab, he honestly wasn’t sure and felt horrible about never asking or talking to the dude about his ancestry, because now he’d never be able to: the guy was frozen, too. Standing still, eyes wide and petrified, his skin tinged blue and glossy from the frost encasing it. His face bore a look caught between disinterest and surprise. He wasn’t screaming or anything, his mouth was only opened slightly, but it was still an unusual sight for a man who usually communicated through terse, grimaces and grunts. The expression was more haunting than if he had been openly horrified, Declan thought. It was the look of someone seeing but failing to comprehend until it was too late. 

And to the cashier’s left was the sight itself. It was the same height and rough shape as a person, but in place of eyes and mouth and skin, any discernible features, it looked as though it were made of a moving ice storm. Vortices of the most striking blue in every shade mixed and congealed and pulled apart, revealing lines of aching white and silver and indigo, all backlit by some bright inner light. It looked like something out of a fantasy novel, but it was real, and so cold that it had frozen everything nearby it, all the bodega shelves and floor and ceiling, now barely visible within chunks of ice; so cold that the air around it had condensed into rolling clouds of fog. 

The loud wailing, windy sound grew quiet. The fog continued to rise and curl around the sight, expanding to fill the room. And as the light inside the sight grew brighter, Declan felt his skin chill and rapidly harden solid, the blood in his veins congeal and his heartbeat still. He was struck by a final regret, that he had not charged and brought his phone nor kept and carried his camera equipment, as he would have loved to take a picture of this unbelievable, impossible scene. It would have made for a beautiful photo.

Images: 1. Midjourney; 2. Starry AI; 3. DALL-E 2; 4. Stable Diffusion

[digisanjoy]

Search Engine Optimization and Affiliate Marketing

Some people think that SEO is not a part of affiliate marketing. That's rather unusual.

It struck me. The main reason many advertising and internet affiliate marketing agencies don't like to pay attention to search engine optimization is that they don't fully comprehend search engine optimization and don't understand how to execute a highly effective SEO campaign. Instead of admit their lack of knowledge, they like to pay attention to internet marketing methods they're saying to understand well.

Search engine optimization benefits

A current MarketingSherpa study shows top organic positions are clicked 20 % of time and top paid-up advertising positions are clicked 10 % of time. However, if your site includes a top organic position along with a top paid-advertising position, the backlinks leading to the site are clicked 60 % of times. It's a unique situation: 10 + 20 = 60.

Affiliate marketers' insufficient search engine optimization understanding is a big mistake. Having a well-built, user-friendly affiliate website, advertising costs can be reduced.

Affiliate Entrepreneurs: Internet Search Engine Friend or Foe?

More often affiliate entrepreneurs or marketers really are a bane to search engines like Google. After I think about internet affiliate marketing junk e-mail, I think about all of the Amazon affiliates' entrance pages. Individuals could be some pretty ugly Internet sites.

However, the best Internet sites I've seen happen to be affiliate Internet sites. For instance, one client doesn't sell straight to customers. The organization's Site offers info on the organization and offers an introduction to its items, but customers can't buy something on the website. They have to go to a joint venture partner to buy. In cases like this, likely to join a venture partner is really better for that consumer. The affiliate is generally situated close to the consumer, which makes it simpler for the consumer to obtain the product personalized and shipped rapidly.

The task within the client's affiliate Search engine optimization plan's to supply completely unique content towards the search engines without taking advantage of them. Furthermore, almost all clients don't want an overzealous affiliate to obtain the corporate site and also the entire affiliate network into trouble. Everybody should benefit: customers, the organization's site, affiliate marketers.

Affiliate SEO and search engine marketing plans

Affiliate management is really a key component of the effective SEO/search engine marketing plan. A lot of companies make affiliate management being an afterthought, frequently towards the corporation's hindrance.

I'm helping a nonprofit become unfrozen in the search engines. Regrettably, helping sites get unfrozen is really a normal, everyday a part of the job of SEO specialists. The company itself hasn't spammed Google. The site is very easy to use, and also the organization is really a well-established brand. You will find no technical causes of the website not to come in Google's index. Yet after digging around for causes of a Google punishment, we discovered the issue: affiliate marketers gone wild.

As part of the internet affiliate marketing search engine optimization plan, companies should explain the significance of offering completely unique content additionally towards the corporation's' content. For instance, effective information architecture is definitely a very important element of engine optimization. There are ways affiliate marketers can group and classify info that are superior to the way the corporate site organizes it? Some items sell better in regional marketplaces than the others. Most likely the affiliate site could concentrate on the best retailers because of its region.

I have seen regional affiliate sites' cross-linking (internal, page-to-page connecting) vary by region. By showing a distinctive cross-linking structure, affiliate marketers provide unique information towards the commercial search engines with a 100 % user-friendly scent of knowledge for clients.

Furthermore, a FAQ, customer support, or help section might be unique for every affiliate site. Many affiliate marketers work directly with clients. What questions do individuals clients frequently pose? Getting these questions as well as their solutions obtainable in a FAQ, customer support, or help section provides completely unique content for clients and search engines like Google.

Finally, among the greatest mistakes I see with affiliate Internet sites and companies is forcing affiliate marketers to utilize a print catalog's exact wording. Print copywriting works fine inside a print medium; it doesn't always work with an internet site. Since affiliate marketers frequently know their clients very well, they ought to have the ability to modify product explanations without deviating in the corporate branding message.

The finish result? Affiliate sites don't get strained from search engine results because of duplicate content, and clients find what they're trying to find rapidly and simply.

In conclusion I can say that despite the fact that internet affiliate marketing junk e-mail is a big problem for that commercial Web search engines, internet search engine reps wish to include affiliate content searching results (both paid and organic), particularly if the content and content organization are unique. Customers appreciate content that's customized for their individual needs.

To know more about affiliate marketing Click here

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[fuckthesworld]

FREEDOM TO DESIRE

CEO MITCH RAPP AU

MITCH RAPP x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and unprotected sex!

Rapp Corporation was the leading marketing firm in the world. Companies like Disney, Sony and Southwest paid millions of dollars to be associated with it. It represented actors, athletes, business moguls and small businesses. While it was in high demand it was also reasonable - sponsoring schools and nonprofit organizations around the world.

The single person driving the reigns to the crazy international kingdom that resided in London was Mitch Rapp . That’s right. He was part of a decade of strong, successful businessmen.

And he was your boss.

You had literally stumbled into the job of personal assistant. Literally. You were walking out of a coffee shop, resumes in hand when you ran into his large, hard frame. You landed on your ass and when you were able to recover, you were looking into the deepest chocolate eyes you had ever seen. His bright white teeth clashed against his tan skin, his dark locks perfectly framing his face.

Then you remembered that you had spilled coffee on one of the most powerful, young bachelors in the world.

You had also spilled coffee all over your resume and you groaned in realization, the expensive fresh pages coated in thick lakes of coffee. He had helped you pick up the lost keys to your future, taking a second to read over your resume and offered you a job. He was on the way to meet someone about being his personal assistant and you did just get your masters in public relations. You could intern while still making money and if you showed promise he promised to promote you.

Sometimes life really does work out in your favor. Sit in that for five seconds then remember that your boss is one of the sexiest, most successful young CEO’s in the world.

Not only is he attractive but he has the work ethic of an ox. And it made working for him damn hard. Probably harder than managing the clients he had. He was constantly in meetings, constantly leaving early in the morning and late in the evening. Going to galas and charity events, charming new people. He opened up smaller chains in areas in the world stricken by poverty to try to help increase job opportunities. He volunteered at schools and hospitals. He spent his Thanksgiving and Christmas and any other holiday of giving providing food for those in need. Always. He’s always been like this.

Mitch wasn’t just a CEO. Wasn’t even human.

He was a goddamn saint sent from heaven to wreak havoc on earth.

It was on such an occasion that he had asked you to attend one of his events - a large gala celebrating 50 years of business with his father and grandfather.  The whole legacy under one roof. You didn’t understand why you were asked to attend. As his assistant sure you had to manage the media and who visited him. But that had been hours ago. The night was now thriving off the rich and famous drunkenly dancing and teasing each other. Mitch never drank more than two glasses of anything at events like these so you didn’t have to babysit him. But you also wanted to go home if he didn’t need you and that he refused.

You watched him as he laughed along with two of his most trusted partners, Scott Mccall and Derek Hale as they sipped expensive champagne and spoke lowly among each other. Mitch was wearing a tailored blue suit, his white  button up popping against a black tie. His slight beard had grown since he shaved it these past two days and was now a short beard and all you could think about was how it would feel between your legs.

You shook your head, returning your eyes to your blackberry. You had to get it together. Everyone teased you that he had a thing for you. He never had women assistants. Preferred men to ensure that things stayed professional. Never offered people jobs on the spot either.

There was just something about you they would tease.

Well he sure as hell wasn’t making a move so until he did it would have to stay a mystery.

“You’re still working for him.”

The soft voice takes you off guard and you jump a bit, breaking from your thoughts as  your eyes fall on your assailant. Standing in a dark red gown, her pale skin contrasting with her perfectly coiffed dark hair is Katrina Mendes. 

Ex-girlfriend of Mitch Rapp.

She takes a seat beside you, the soft smell of Chanel wafting off her skin as she continues.

“Didn’t think a fragile little thing like you would survive a man like him.”

You knew what she was doing. Her younger sister, Annika , had warned you about this months ago. When you had accidentally ran into her at a golf tournament with Mitch. She loved him still. Despite the fact that she married someone new, moved across the world, she still loved and wanted him. Didn’t want anyone else to claim him.

You were a threat. You were beautiful,  intelligent. charming and apparently upon Scott’s teasing, he spoke about you a lot. Katrina hated you. And reminded you every time she saw you.

“Surprised you’re here. Thought you’d be back in America with your husband. Oh wait, he’s in Japan with his mistress of the month.”

It was no secret her husband cheated on her. She even laughed about it but deep down you knew it killed her inside. Killed her that she chose a man like that over a man like Mitch. It made you even empathize for her…until she opened her mouth and you were reminded that karma was real.

She narrows her eyes at you before deliberately taking the large flute of champagne in her hand and slowly tilting it on your dress. On your $3,000 dress you had charged on your credit card that you had planned on returning tomorrow. You had only bought the navy blue gown to try to impress Mitch, hoping he would be charmed by the way it looked on your body.

It hadn’t and now, on top of rejection, she had ruined it and put you $3,000 in the hole.

“Have fun returning your De la Rented dress.” she smirks at you as you stand, the champagne trailing down the front of the long gown. You try to bite back tears, try not to bring too much attention to yourself as you pat at he gown down with a napkin before looking at her.

“I really hope you’re happy making other people’s life miserable Katrina. Because from what I hear, you used to be an awesome person and now, now you’re just a lonely bitch.”

You don’t notice the crowd of people who have been crowding around, watching the small scene unfold. Don’t see Mitch head toward you as you make your way down to the hallway to the family restroom. You don’t realize the tears that have been falling down your cheeks until you feel him grab your arm, turning you gently toward him.

“Y/N…” your name sounds different on his tongue and the way he’s looking at you has you sobbing harder. You try to push him away as he draws you to him, his large sculpted arms surrounding you as he whispers,

“Just let it all out.”

You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve wasted $3,000 on a dress that had made little impact in your life. Maybe its because you’ve been up since 4:30 because of him, trying to make his night perfect. You missed having a social life. Missed your mom and dad and siblings. Missed your small loft in London.

Missed all of this because of him and he didn’t even give a damn.

The thought drives your sobs deeper and his grip tightens around you as you cry harder, his large hands rubbing your back. His mouth hushes you and he rocks you before you start to calm down, your sobs tampering off and you pull away, shaking your head. You want to apologize for your unprofessionalism and you also wanted to tell him he could take his assistant job and fuck off but then his left hand is hooking under your chin as he tilts your head up to you.

“I can pay for your dress. I’m sorry she ruined it. But holy hell Y/N what did you expect when you wore something like this?”

His right hand that has never left your body tampers down your back as he pulls you closer to him.

“You’ve been driving everybody mad wearing this,” he eyes are shifting now, darkening around the pupils as he licks his lips. “It should be a condemned sin.”

His voice has dropped an octave and the deep bass draws a shiver up your spine. You give your lip a light bite and he gives a short groan, the pad of his thumb brushing over the exposed skin. His hand tightens around your waist as he whispers,

“You should be a condemned sin.”

You’re looking up at him confused, trying to register what he was saying. He watches you back, trying to get a read on you before he straightens, pulling from you.

“I hope you’re feeling better.” he croaks, backing away as he takes you in one last time before he turns on his heel. You stop him, your hand shooting for his arm. You walk around him, his hair covering his pinched eyes as you whisper,

“What do you mean by that Mitch?”

He doesn’t look at you as he manages out,

“I’ve drank too much. I shouldn’t…” he looks at you and groans. “You just, I should have asked you out and not have offered you a job.”

The words takes you off guard as he takes a deep sigh.

“You’re so goddamn sexy and smart and I felt terrible ruining your resumes,” he was referencing your encounter months ago. “That offering you a job was the best I could do. I thought you’d get burnt out and quit and then I could ask you out but you’re so damn good. So damn good at everything you do so I’ve been stuck pretending I don’t care when all I want is you.”

Your dumbstruck as he looks at you and groans, shrugging out of your embrace.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. We can leave, if you want.”

He’s looking past you and you’re trying to process it all.

He really did like you.

You grab his neck, drawing him down to you, your lips pressing against his. It catches him off guard for only a second before he’s registering your actions, his hands grabbing your hips as he pushes you flush against a wall. His kisses are needy and desperate as his tongue teases your mouth open and you are consumed by him. Your hands move to his hair, his beautiful dark tresses getting tangled in your delicate fingers as he moans in your mouth, pushing his hips into your naval.

You moan feeling his erection brush against you and he pulls away, his eyes frenzied with lust.

“Not here.” his voice is hoarse and deep as he grabs you and basically drags you into the family restroom you were seeking out earlier. He shuts the door, locking it before grabbing you and slamming you against the door. He lifts you, your long gown getting lost around him as your legs hooks around his waist and his mouth is on your collarbone, sucking on the skin.

“You are so damn gorgeous,” he mumbles along your skin, his mouth nipping at your neck. “Do you know that? Do you know that you’ve been driving me fucking insane in this dress” his hands trail up your gown, his hot fingers clashing with your cool thighs and his mouth has found yours. “Drove me insane the moment I picked you up and you were wearing this.” His hands ghost over your center and you give a small yelp, as he pulls back to look you in the eye.

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” he bites his lips as he glides his fingers up your wet folds and you shiver as you stumble out,

“I always run out of clean underwear and you came so early to pick me up I couldn’t go and buy a pair.”

His hands slowly traces up and down your pussy and he watches your face twist in pleasure.

“How many times have you worked with me without any panties on?”

“Honestly?” you bite down on your lip as his thumb slowly starts to tease against your clit and your hips rock against his finger. “Like most of the time. You don’t give me enough time to do my laundry.”

Your words are soft, barely coming in a whisper and he growls, sticking a finger into you as he begins his slow assault into your tight walls.

“You are so fucking wet,” he whispers as he looks at you, a wicked grin on his face. “Are you always this wet for me princess?”

You give a weak nod as he inserts another finger and you buck against him, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“I thought I smelled you the other week when we were at dinner.” You knew what he was referencing. He had taken you out for dinner after a long day at the office at a trendy sushi spot. He had been talking to you as his nimble fingers gracefully picked up one sushi after the other, the raw fish placed carefully in his mouth. You don’t know why it turned you on but it did. You wanted to know what those fingers would feel like in you, his mouth over yours.

Now you knew.

“Did I smell you princess?” he whispers a grin gracing his face and you give another weak nod and he growls, inserting a third finger in you. You arch your back against him, hands stuck in his hair as his mouth attacks your neck again.

“Tell me what had you so turned on so much?”

You give a weak mewl in silence and he pulls his fingers out, causing you to whine. He looks up at you with hooded eyes shaking his head.

“You have to use your words princess.”

“I was thinking about you finger fucking me.” you manage out, biting your lip as your cheeks flush over. He smiles as he sticks his fingers back in you, watching your face contort in pleasure again. His fingers curls up and hits you in that sweet spot and you feel your body tensing, clawing for release.

“Were you?”

You give a quick nod and he chuckles, his mouth getting close to your ear. His fingers are merciless know, pumping into you faster as his thumb brushes against your clit and you can feel that tension in your stomach build up.

“Wanna hear a secret princess?” he whispers against the shell of your ear and you hum, your body starting to give in to the pleasure he was delighting you to. “I’ve jacked off to you every night since I’ve met you, cumming all over my body from the thought of my dick being filled to the rim in you.”

That was all you needed. Between his fingers and the image of him jacking off to you your screaming his name, your fingers tangled in his hair as your walls flutter around his fingers. He groans, coaxing you through your climax as he watches you before he pulls from you, inserting all three of his fingers in his mouth. He gives a low moan as he sucks your essence off and pulls his fingers out with a pop before your leaning into him for a kiss.

He shifts, carrying you to the bathroom counter and slamming placing you down. He yanks at his suit, pulling down his pants and boxers as his cock springs free.

“Tonight I’ll make love to you the way you deserve,” he promises as he lines himself up at your entrance. “I’ll have you begging my name by the time I’m done with you but right now I just need you.”

His cock is teasing your folds as you look up at him, your eyes darkening as you thrust your hips forward. He stops you, something dark flickering in his eyes.

“What do you want princess?” he whispers and you moan as your hands pull at his shoulders.

“I want you.”

“You want me to what?” a satisfied smirk sits on his face and you rub your folds against his twitching cock.

“Want you to fuck me with your big fucking cock.”

He groans as he slowly thrusts into you, grabbing your hands and intertwining them with yours as he raises them above your head. His head falls in the crook of your neck as he bottoms out in you, his hair tickling your shoulders and you both give a satisfied moan. You rock your hips against him, enjoying the way he fills you to the brim and he moans as he pulls from you, his hips rocking out of you before slamming back in.

“Goddamn you are tight..” he whispers as he lifts himself enough to look at you, then his mouth is hot on yours as his body claims you.

His hips snap into you, desperately chasing after your orgasm before he lifts your leg and you’re getting hit in that special spot that has you screaming out his name.

“That’s right princess. Want you to cum all over my big cock.” he whispers, his hips in a frenzy as he watches you unwind underneath him. His finger finds your clit and flicks the sensitive area and you’re screaming his name again, your body shaking as you find sweet release. His hips are sloppily slapping against your as your walls tighten around before there milking him  his body shaking uncontrollably as your arms find your way around his body.

You wait a beat before saying,

“Soooo…I’m guessing I have to quit. This is the highest level of conflicted interest if I’ve ever known one.”

He chuckles, his face tucked in your shoulder before pulling away and kissing you.

“I don’t want you to quit.”

“Wouldn’t that be -”

“Unless you want to. You’re free to work in any of our departments. You’re way too good to be an assistant.” he’s rambling, something he does when he’s nervous and you chuckle, leaning up and kissing him. He relaxes as you pull away, his lips tugged between your teeth before you whisper.

“Let’s worry about it tomorrow. I should at least get a year under your belt before we talk about commitment.”

He chuckles, wiggling against you and there’s a soft knock on the door and you both freeze before you hear Scott’s voice.

“…….so uhhh, I don’t mean to interrupt you two but ummmm,” he clears his throat though you can hear the humour in his voice. “Your dad is looking for you Mitch. For a photo.”

Mitch groans and you laugh, giving a lock of his hair a tug.

“Give us a minute Scott. We need to….make ourselves decent.”

“Uh huh.” You know he’s smiling as he walks away and Mitch’s eyes are glinting at you mischievously.

“How long do you think he’s been standing out there hearing you scream out my name?”

“Mitch! That’s your best friend!” you say in mock surprise and he laughs, shaking his head.

“Scott’s always had a thing for you.” he nuzzles his face in your neck before muttering. “Besides I have another round in me.”

His shimmies his hips against yours and you gasp at his dick hardening in you.

You both make it out of the bathroom thirty minutes later.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Good news about news co-ops

Today, the Global Investigative Journalism Network reprints The Nonprofit Quarterly's exciting story "A New Business Model Emerges: Meet the Digital News Co-op," by Tom Stites.

https://gijn.org/2021/03/25/a-new-business-model-emerges-meet-the-digital-news-co-op/

https://nonprofitquarterly.org/a-new-business-model-emerges-meet-the-digital-news-co-op/

Stites documents the rise-and-rise of national news co-ops in Germany, Italy, Switzerland and Mexico, and the rapidly proliferating local co-ops in Canada, Uruguay and the UK.

A news co-op is a news organization owned by its readers, whose membership fees pay for open access journalism - no paywall - usually organized as nonprofits (an IRS rule-change lets for-profit newspaper convert to nonprofits).

The reader-owners of the co-op get to read the news, vote on the co-op's policies, elect its board, ensure their communities are being reported on, and get members' access to private forums where the co-op's business is discussed.

Co-ops court advertisers for inclusion in a supporter's business directory, and ads in a news co-op's publications demonstrate a business's connection to its community to both the co-op's members and the community-wide readership.

Stites draws a comparison to the credit union movement, which is larger - in aggregate - than Wells Fargo, but whose control is decentralized among 5,133 community-oriented financial institutions (I love my credit union).

US news co-ops are on the rise, including The Devil Strip and The Mendocino Voice. Stites describes how his nonprofit Banyan Project serves as an incubator for news co-ops:

https://banyanproject.coop/

The much-lamented local newspaper industry was an historic accident: newspaper families connected sports-score-hungry readers with local appliance store ads, and spent some of the profits that generated to cover city hall and the state-house out of a sense of patrician duty.

Long before Craigslist, long before the Googbook ad duopoly, these weird, contingent structures were crumbling, as newspaper families sold out to vulture capitalist raiders who gutted the papers and looted their rainy-day funds.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/18/news-worthy/#big-news

The news part of newspapers was never a standalone business, irrespective of whether readers paid for the news or got it free - for general news, there's always been a cross-subsidy that was a mix of market forces (appliance ads) and civic duty (patrician news families).

The news co-op model acknowledges that news is, in part, a public good - news that isn't widely available is not "news," it's a "secret." The premise that paywalls and ads will give us back the local news that covers readers' liveaday issues has not been borne out.

Paywall success stories are a mix of specialized news, often catering to the ultrawealthy (WSJ), superstar news orgs focused on specific national and international news (NYT) or news with billionaire backstops (WP).

The civic function of news is not met by any of these models. But reader-supported, open access news, like Canadaland and The Halifax Examiner are filling in the gaps. The co-op model is a most welcome adjunct to these success stories.

Image: Co-Op (modified): https://www.flickr.com/photos/theco-operative/12541909913/

Paul Williamson (modified): https://www.flickr.com/photos/mustbeart/6322535993/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

i wanna talk about one of my mentors because i miss her and i haven’t been able to see her in Recent Times. Her name’s Susan, i met her for the first time when I was 18 and sent to be an intern at under her supervision at a community nonprofit. i picked the nonprofit out of the options that needed help over the summer because it was a nonprofit that focused on food which i cared about a lot (growing up hungry does that to you) and because it was in the neighborhood where i grew up. like, my family was unstable so I grew up in about 12 different towns & cities, but this was my favorite. it’s a little neighborhood all the way out on the far side of the city called florence and it had this little historic business district that i got to study every day as I drove past it on the bus. it was so odd-looking and funny and perfect in the middle of what was otherwise just a shitty, shitty area. and this nonprofit with susan who would become so important to me were in the little historic district. right in the middle. so i picked that nonprofit and I went there at 18 all happy go lucky

and here’s important context. i’m white, Susan is Black, and our neighborhood is one of the poorest and most segregated areas in the country (per capita). the nonprofit was also only 5 years old, I was its 5th unpaid employee ever (i was being paid, they just weren’t the ones doing it) and its 4th paid employee ever. so I’d grown up here and I was connected, but I didn’t understand anything. And Susan was launching a nonprofit. She was the first volunteer ever, the first unpaid employee ever, the first part-time paid employee ever (even when she was working full-time hours), the first full-time paid employee ever, and the woman who single-handedly built out every single one of the SEVEN (7!) programs that SHE WAS STILL RUNNING. the ceo and founder was doing all of the business and the tech and the community organizing and Susan was doing all of the background labor. every bit of it. she wrote the policies, signed up the participants, organized vendors & ag suppliers as well as community partners and stakeholders and keeping track of all of our participants, their needs, and how to get this food and these opportunities out to our people. and i just wanna describe some of the programming here. she was running a community garden and a CSA share program that was subsidized through a FINI grant for people in our neighborhood, she was organizing and planning for the construction of a food hub, she was launching a workforce training program to get people skills & college credit for long-term careers in the culinary field & she was launching an entrepreneurship program to support local food businesses & urban ag initiatives in our area. THAT’S NOT EVEN ALL OF IT. just susan. A few months before I came on, they hired their third employee to manage the CSA program. that alone was enough for a full-time job and then some. I do not know how Susan did it. Nancy, the ceo, she was off doing equally as much shit. I just didn’t really see it because I was in the office with susan, trying to muddle my way through the onslaught of work that I didn’t understand and I hadn’t known that I was getting myself into.

To be honest, the only reason I got the benefit of learning from Susan was because she needed a work horse and I could be a work horse. seriously. every single day, I got a “let’s get something straight now” or a “honey, we need to have a chat” or a “uh-uh. come over here” for months. it really took me a year and a half before it finally clicked. she was so rough on me and so specific and so picky both because it was her office and she built everything in it so she had the right to be that way and because she could see the kind of mentorship I needed. I wanted to help and I cared about real solutions. I also wasn’t a person that could handle loose boundaries or no structure and I thrived on information. so she did that. she made the structure and she formatted it in a way where every new boundary would come with information about what I did wrong, why it was wrong, what the correct answer is, and why it’s the correct answer. she wasn’t nice about it correcting me because she didn’t have to be, but it was exactly what I needed. She knew I was capable of doing the work, I just straight up couldn’t be trusted to do the work if I didn’t have my head on straight. so she straightened it. looking back, I know that she wouldn’t have expended the effort if I wasn’t lessening her overall workload, but I cringe at all of her time I wasted. Eventually, when I’d really started on my decolonization journey (though I didn’t know the term for it yet), she trusted me. We’d spend 30 or so minutes every morning talking about our state and local politics and all of the urban ag drama going on and we made full-day-long veggie deliveries together about once a month. They were really good years.

in later years, I got moved over under Nancy’s supervision. mostly as a legacy because no one newer really felt confident challenging me even when they should have. like, these women are unstoppable & we had 3 buildings and 27 employees on our 10th anniversary so there were a lot of new people and the work was insane so Knowing Exactly What You Were Doing was touch-and-go at best for a long time. like, for example, nancy’s side of things is strategic planning, community organizing, & coalition building AS WELL AS all the tech & finances. for her, i was doing stuff like qualitative studies, systems design, legislative stuff, ironically reorganizing Susan’s program policies for internal consistency, running our zero waste program, whatever was needed. It was exciting, amazing work. I cared so much about everything that I was doing, and the only thing that made it possible was Susan. Susan who spent so much time teaching me and correcting me and yelling at me and expecting my best because our people deserved it and we committed to giving it. I can’t describe the effect it had on me.

i had to leave over the pandemic. nancy actually had to fire me because it was pretty clear that I wasn’t okay and I wouldn’t leave on my own. I remember feeling so angry and disappointed, like I couldn’t keep up. I’d failed when it was the most urgent. And Susan told me that it would be okay, that I’d done everything I could do right now, and that if I didn’t rest, I would extinguish my fire before it had a chance to really burn. 

whenever I need to inspire myself to push harder or comfort myself that someone who is strong and capable is there and is fighting too, I think of Susan. I think about how she knew that she wasn’t responsible for all that work but that she did it anyway because she was called, she was capable, and she cared. I think about how completely she was able to humanize everything, to make it understandable and conquerable and graspable to everyone she spoke to. I think about how she taught me to talk to people. I think about how she constantly let me stick my foot so far down my own throat I’m not sure how I didn’t digest it just to teach me a lesson about assumptions and asses. I think about how she taught me to never ever forget that people are the heart of it, why we do the work and why it’s necessary. Not everyone can be a Susan, but god. knowing she’s out there just. helps.

[tallphonse]

hey guys, i know the whole one is all zine situation has been fucky from the get go, and as someone who directly contributed to getting it taken down i feel like i should say some words.

when i read the post that explained that the zine would be taken down, i felt bad for causing so much pain to the head mod. but then i went to my server to see what their viewpoints were, and found that nobody felt sympathy. it was then that i realized i had fallen for the post in its true form: a pity post.

sure, i never want to see someone sit in their car and cry for 30 minutes, much less be the cause of it, but YOU were the reason a friend of mine suffered greatly for the past three days. you make it sound as if it didnt need to be black and white, but you had the choice between standing your ground and defending someone you call a friend, or throwing them under the bus and calling them names. you chose the latter, and all you have to say about it now is how sorry you feel for yourself.

anyway, the MAIN reason i wanted to write this post was to let people know: just because this shitshow went down, DOESN’T mean the charity one is all chose has to suffer. the charity they chose is called Survival International — a nonprofit organization advocating for the preservation of indigenous peoples and their cultures around the world.

i highly recommend going to their website and donating what you would have paid for the zine; i’m about to do so myself.

signing off with these words i’d like you all to take to heart: be true to one another. even when people are pressuring you into harming the ones you care about, stay steady and be by their side. fullmetal alchemist isn’t just about togetherness, it’s about never giving up.

[brehaaorgana]

today in:

people are losing their goddamned minds over a tiny nonprofit run entirely by 2 staff and 8 volunteers not squandering $35 million immediately because  - honestly - it seems like the alt-right realized there’s a lot of jewish people*** on the board of this nonprofit and they have sold it to you that this org must be a scam since they’ve spent only a small fraction of the total amount in 2 weeks.

you’re all so dumb i’m going to lose my mind. 

here’s the first thing that would prevent them from spending all $35 million right away -- THEY PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE ACCESS TO ALL 35 MILLION YET. U.S. FEDERAL REGULATIONS MEAN THAT ANY TIME A SINGLE PERSON OR INDIVIDUAL OR ORGANIZATION RECEIVES OR TRANSFERS FUNDS THAT EQUAL $10,000 IN A SINGLE DAY OR EVEN OVER THE COURSE OF 30 DAYS, THERE IS AN IRS REPORT AUTOMATICALLY GENERATED. 

AND THAT REPORT MAY MEAN FUNDS ARE AUTOMATICALLY HELD FOR A LONGER PERIOD OF TIME FOR VALIDATION. 

so if you get 3 checks and none of them individually are $10,000, but altogether they equal $10,000 or more, each amount is included in the report. This happens automatically. This is a federal regulation. You can’t prevent this or avoid it. This means your funds can be delayed for some time! They have to validate the funds on all sides, the IRS gets a report [anti-terrorism and anti-money-laundering laws at work] and the funds then get released. 

Also as a more general financial concern, here’s hoping you have a large bank that has the ability to process massive amounts of funds coming into your account from thousands upon thousands of other accounts all at once. If you don’t - which is possible, if you’re a small local nonprofit and you chose to work with a local bank or credit union - then this may cause issues just because suddenly you need a much bigger amount of service for your accounts. If you normally process maybe $10,000 in a whole month from maybe a few hundred people, that’s potentially a whole different bank account “type” or a different team to handle your business relationship than the team helping you with handling over $10 million.

 And if you need to suddenly transition who handles your business bank accounts? Internally, or move to another bank? Haha, well, there’s a pandemic, and banks are all slammed right now with servicing. Go into a branch? A lot are closed or limited hours. it’s gonna be tricky and literally everything takes time to process. because it’s a lot of fucking money. VERY FEW nonprofits, especially very small ones, have the structure or ability to handle that much money coming at them THAT quickly. They’ve NEVER had to before. 

Like I want y’all to understand, you can read their 990 forms online. The last tax year for 990s was 2018 (because hah - they need to submit 2019 still, the deadline is much later, so again, holy moses this is a screaming raging headache to deal with). Their reported revenue for 2018 was  $110,092. 

They just got what, $35 million?

Let’s just. Contextualize, okay? The NAACP Empowerment Programs INC reported a total revenue of $33,533,923 in 2018. This is one part of all of the NAACP filings, because some of them do different things under “NAACP.” This is the primarily legal action based one. That is a massive non-profit with 110 years of experience and paid employees. This is a non-profit where they have member chapters, and each of THOSE chapters also has a different 990.

 again context: ACLU of Southern California reported revenue of $14,010,989 last year. 

They’ve spent $200,000 in two weeks and yeah, that makes complete sense again, good LORD they probably don’t even have all the money in their accounts. 

this isn’t to get INTO like, having to hire an accountant/tax prep specialist or a lawyer, to advise on the countless laws you have to abide by as a 501(c)3 allocating your funds OR what happens when like, some of these donations inevitably bounce, or panicky assholes try to dispute their transactions and suddenly you have a gazillion charge-backs to be processed. 

go into the time out corner and spend two seconds, i am begging you, considering the logistics of the real world. 

*** I don’t want to try to confirm or deny if some of the board are indeed MOT BUT here’s the rub -- it doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t just that neonazis think they are.