“Officers have tanks now. They have drones. They have automatic rifles, and planes, and helicopters, and they go through military-style boot camp training. It’s a constant complaint from what remains of this country’s civil liberties caucus. Just this last June, the ACLU issued a report on how police departments now possess arsenals in need of a use. Few paid attention, as usually happens.
The worst part of outfitting our police officers as soldiers has been psychological. Give a man access to drones, tanks, and body armor, and he’ll reasonably think that his job isn’t simply to maintain peace, but to eradicate danger. Instead of protecting and serving, police are searching and destroying.
If officers are soldiers, it follows that the neighborhoods they patrol are battlefields. And if they’re working battlefields, it follows that the population is the enemy. And because of correlations, rooted in historical injustice, between crime and income and income and race, the enemy population will consist largely of people of color, and especially of black men. Throughout the country, police officers are capturing, imprisoning, and killing black males at a ridiculous clip, waging a very literal war on people like Michael Brown.”—America Is Not For Black People (via wilwheaton)
“Commander Vimes didn’t like the phrase ‘The innocent have nothing to fear’, believing the innocent had everything to fear, mostly from the guilty but in the longer term even more from those who say things like ‘The innocent have nothing to fear’.”—Terry Pratchett (via beornwulf)
For years mental health professionals taught people that they could be psychologically healthy without social support, that “unless you love yourself, no one else will love you.”…The truth is, you cannot love yourself unless you have been loved and are loved. The capacity to love cannot be built in isolation
Bruce D. Perry, M.D., Ph.D. — “The Boy Who Was Raised As A Dog”
listen, i don’t know about you, but the only people I know who actually enjoy the smell of axe body spray are not women. it’s dudes. it’s all dudes. i have worn axe body spray and walked into a room and have been complimented by legions of dudes. axe body spray is an agent of the gay agenda to make men smell better for other men to unlock their latent homosexuality and there is no stopping them now, we’re in too deep and it’s far too late.
“Do what you love” disguises the fact that being able to choose a career primarily for personal reward is a privilege, a sign of socioeconomic class. Even if a self-employed graphic designer had parents who could pay for art school and co-sign a lease for a slick Brooklyn apartment, she can bestow DWYL as career advice upon those covetous of her success.
If we believe that working as a Silicon Valley entrepreneur or a museum publicist or a think-tank acolyte is essential to being true to ourselves, what do we believe about the inner lives and hopes of those who clean hotel rooms and stock shelves at big-box stores? The answer is: nothing.
a couple of other quotes from the article i really like:
According to this way of thinking, labor is not something one does for compensation but is an act of love. If profit doesn’t happen to follow, presumably it is because the worker’s passion and determination were insufficient. Its real achievement is making workers believe their labor serves the self and not the marketplace
Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life! Before succumbing to the intoxicating warmth of that promise, it’s critical to ask, “Who, exactly, benefits from making work feel like nonwork?” “Why should workers feel as if they aren’t working when they are?” In masking the very exploitative mechanisms of labor that it fuels, DWYL is, in fact, the most perfect ideological tool of capitalism. If we acknowledged all of our work as work, we could set appropriate limits for it, demanding fair compensation and humane schedules that allow for family and leisure time.
I see a lot of people on my dash calling themselves SJWs and getting annoyed when people react negatively to it without actually knowing what that term means. “Social Justice Warrior” started out as a negative word, and remains negative almost everywhere else ourside of Tumblr. SJW = troll. SJWs don’t care about social justice. These are the people who use fat acceptance to bully people who aren’t fat. They’re the people who use LGBT rights to bully bisexuals and trans folks. SJWs are the people who make social justice look ridiculous.
But because of the echo chamber aspect of Tumblr, and the fact that SJWs started using this site to troll early in its inception, preception got distorted. Those troll blogs ARE the SJWs. They don’t care about the things they’re posting about. They don’t care about social justice. It’s just an easy way to piss people off.
“Why not ask whether heterosexuality exists? Are there truly people out there who are so disgusted by the same sex that they’ve never had a dream, a thought, a moment of desire for another person of the same sex? If so, why do these people have such a revulsion? Is it cultural? Is it biological? Both? We take heterosexuality for granted, but we still don’t know if it truly exists. All primates (with the exception of humans) are bisexual. Bonobos and chimpanzees especially. In human societies that are not corrupted by homophobia or biphobia (see Greeks, Canaanites, and various modern tribes), the people are bisexual. I think heterosexuality should be assumed to be a cultural invention until proven otherwise.”—Kevin Johnston (via bleep0bleep)
Yet another rescue bird has been taken beneath our wings. Today I wound up on a house call as part of rescue efforts to remove several animals from the home of a woman who had dementia and was unable to take care of her animals any longer. Among these animals was a lone cockatiel, which is why I ended up being involved. He’s now residing with us in quarantine, pending a very thorough vet visit… because his living conditions were appalling.
I in no way blame the previous owner. It was clear her memory had been in decline for a long time and by the time we got there, she didn’t even know what her bird was called. The cage was coated in faeces, not only bird droppings but vermin had clearly been in there as well. The toys and ropes were drenched through with it, all solid white and dusty. When I got home the first thing I did was to remove all my clothes and wash them immediately before even going into the same room as my own birds. The water had a layer of brown grime over the top and the seed trays were filled with husks. I was nearly in tears while trying to get him into the travel cage and when I was offered the main cage I couldn’t even form words. It was rusted, rotting, and as I said, layered with bird droppings. All the scrubbing in the world would not have made that cage okay to live in.
The ‘tiel is male, a screamer, and a biter. Fully flighted, he isn’t remotely tame and his mate died a couple of weeks ago. My suspicion is the mate was either attacked by vermin, died of thirst or starvation, or something similar to do with the conditions it was being kept in. My heart aches for this little one. What he had in life is now gone forever, and he’s clearly scared and lonely.
We are not able to keep this cockatiel, much as I wish we could. We do not have the time to tame and care for him alongside our other three birds, he may well prove a hazard to them, we do not have the money for any prolonged veterinary care he will require, and we don’t have the space for any more suitable cages. I currently have two new cages for our own birds on order as a matter of urgency, as we need to be able to move this newcomer into Katara’s old cage ASAP as his current residence is way too small. Those cages actually should be here by now but the merchant dropped the ball.
I will repost this tomorrow with pictures of the ‘tiel (I am trying to give him space to sleep and rest right now) and potentially a plea for donations for the vet visit if we can’t raise the funds through our other planned avenue. I want full tests done on this bird before I’m letting him go into the home of a potential new owner, and that’s gonna wind up being expensive.
Between this guy and the budgie, we’re becoming a halfway house for wayward birds.
Senator: Superheroes have to register their secret identities! Natasha: There’s six of us. Rogers has a Smithsonian exhibit on him, Stark won’t stop telling the world he’s Iron Man, and for the rest of us, I dumped all of SHIELD’s files on the internet. Senator: Oh. Right. -FIN-
Natasha: Oh…and Thor is Thor. That’s his real name. Even if it wasn’t, he might have diplomatic immunity to the Registration Act since his “secret identity” is the crown prince of an alien civilization.
Senator: I get it, I get it.
POST CREDITS SCENE:
(Enter the Senator’s office) Senator: Well, that was a disaster. Voice: You think? Senator: Who is th- Nick Fury? Nick Fury: I’m here to talk to you about the “Stop Wasting Everyone’s Fucking Time” Initiative.
Sometimes I think about how many little things we probably do every day that would totally mess up the reasoning of a Sherlock-Holmes-style detective.
Like the other day we went to the cinema and I was wearing a shirt with no pockets so I put the ticket in my trouser pocket. The next day I was wearing the same trousers and I put my hand in my pocket and found the ticket there.
Now, I have a certain selection of things I always have in my trouser pockets and I don’t really like having anything else in there because it confuses my hands when I want to get something, so I took the ticket out. And I wasn’t near a rubbish bin, but I was wearing a shirt with a breast pocket. So I put the ticket in the shirt pocket.
And I thought: if I get interestingly murdered, the Sherlock-Holmes-style detective is going to deduce that I’m wearing the same shirt that I wore yesterday. Because it’s got a cinema ticket in the pocket with yesterday’s date on, and why on earth would anyone put a cinema ticket in the pocket of a shirt unless they were wearing the shirt when they went to the cinema?
Which is a bit of reasoning we would all find totally convincing if it came from a Sherlock-Holmes-style detective. But it would be wrong. Because actually there are so many other explanations for things once you take account of the fact that people are often slightly eccentric in completely trivial and unguessable ways.
“Samuel Vimes dreamed about Clues. He had a jaundiced view of Clues. He instinctively distrusted them. They got in the way. And he distrusted the kind of person who’d take one look at another man and say in a lordly voice to his companion, “Ah, my dear sir, I can tell you nothing except that he is a left-handed stonemason who has spent some years in the merchant navy and has recently fallen on hard times,” and then unroll a lot of supercilious commentary about calluses and stance and the state of a man’s boots, when exactly the same comments could apply to a man who was wearing his old clothes because he’d been doing a spot of home bricklaying for a new barbecue pit, and had been tattooed once when he was drunk and seventeen* and in fact got seasick on a wet pavement. What arrogance! What an insult to the rich and chaotic variety of the human experience!”