Cooked from scratch (my sewing machine). Full of nutrients (plastic beans). Cage free (they are living in my house and they don't pay rent someone please take them away from me).
Thanks so much for checking them out!!! rbs very appreciated too <3
Bonus: squashing him....
[Video description: my hand holding and squishing a fried egg puppy plush, with the sound of beans shifting around inside.]
You know, I used to believe that the leftist… fixation, shall we say, on Israel/Palestine was in good faith. Like, I figured the reason they talked about it so much was because they saw Israel’s lopsided military power, and how they were using it (to commit war crimes), and were rightfully horrified. It descended into antisemitism for them at times, not because they truly hated Israelis or Jews, but because they had bad rhetorical habits built into them and just didn’t realize. So of course, I was of the very firm belief that in the event of an attack like the one on Israel, leftists would condemn it as horrific, since their problem wasn’t Israelis themselves, but how Israel was perpetuating the conflict with their disproportionate military power and committing human rights violations. I truly believed they would never cheer on those doing the same to Israeli civilians—because the war crimes were their problem, not the Jews.
The world is ending. You know it, your neighbor knows it, the dealer knows it, the jailer knows it, the king and all his men know it. All one has to do is look around to see it— the future is curdling into something pale and incorporeal. The infernal machine that is this stupid world is going to blow, sooner rather than later. So what are you doing? Why are you still here? Why is anyone still here?
SOLUTION
You are doing the only thing worth doing. You are living. *Why,* you ask? Try and remember now. Remember your mother’s hand on your shoulder. Remember the taste of a fresh catch. Remember the times when you were kind to the dogs in the valley and they did not bare their teeth. Remember the weight of a child on your shoulders. Remember the stars throwing their light against the wall of sodium and smog. Remember singing until your throat was raw. Remember crying just as loudly and publicly, and the gentleness with which someone opened your curled fist and pressed a handkerchief into your palm. Crying, laughing, running, eating, screaming, haunting, loving, fighting, fighting, fighting. The fight fuels you, and you fuel the fight. You run yourself ragged just for a chance to keep running. You never stop. You cannot stop. The world depends on it. *You* are the infernal engine. You are the world. And, simply put: you want to live.