tv taught me how to feel

"Gravity assist." "Slingshot." Of course, on a very basic and objective level, yes, we are taking advantage of forces generated by outside objects to specifically help in our goals. We're getting help from objects in the same way a river can power a mill. And of course we call it a "slingshot," because the motion is very similar (mentally at least; I can't be sure about the exact physics).

Plus, especially compared to the other sciences, the terminology for astrophysics is like, really straightforward. "Black hole?" Damn yeah it sure is. "Big bang?" It sure was. "Galactic cluster?" Buddy you're never gonna guess what this is. I think it's an effect of the fact that language is generally developed for life on earth and all the strange variances that happen on its surface, that applying it to something as alien and vast as space, general terms tend to suffice very well in a lot more places than, like... idk, botany.

But, like. "Gravity assist." I still can't get the notion out of my head that such language implies us receiving active help from our celestial neighbors. They come to our aid. We are working together. We are assisted. Jupiter and the other planets saw our little messengers coming from its pale blue molecular cousin, and we set up the physics just right, so that they could help us send them out to far stranger places than this, to tell us all about what they find out there.

We are assisted.

And there is no better way to illustrate my feelings on the matter than to just show you guys one of my favorite paintings, this 1973 NASA art by Rick Guidice to show the Pioneer probe doing this exact thing:

"... You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. ..."

1. Do not do age verification.

Oh no I dropped my link, what a horrible thing! Sure hope this doesn't get reblogged until it reaches users from the UK and Brazil!

she's blue and sweet just like blueberries

“Do Dead Malls Go To Heaven?”

María Remedios del Valle (c. 1766–1847) was an Afro-Argentine military heroine and freedom fighter who played a crucial role in Argentina’s War of Independence (1810–1818). Known as "La Madre de la Patria" (Mother of the Nation), she fought alongside revolutionary forces against Spanish colonial rule and later endured poverty and obscurity before finally being recognized for her contributions. Her story reflects both the heroism of Black women in Latin American independence movements and the racial injustices that led to their erasure from history.

Born into slavery or servitude in Buenos Aires, María Remedios was of African descent, part of the large but often overlooked Afro-Argentine population that played a significant role in the nation’s formation. When Argentina’s fight for independence began in 1810, she joined the Army of the North, originally as a nurse caring for wounded soldiers, but soon became a combatant, engaging in battle alongside male soldiers.

She fought under General Manuel Belgrano, demonstrating exceptional bravery in battles across Argentina and present-day Bolivia and Peru. She participated in key conflicts such as the Battle of Tucumán (1812) and the Battle of Salta (1813), where she provided medical aid, carried supplies, and fought when necessary. She was captured by the Spanish, tortured, and imprisoned, yet she refused to betray the revolution. After being released, she returned to the battlefield, continuing her fight for Argentina’s independence.

Despite her immense sacrifices, María Remedios, like many Black veterans of the independence wars, was forgotten and left in poverty after the war. Argentina’s elite sought to erase the contributions of Black people to the country’s history, and she spent years living on the streets of Buenos Aires as a beggar. Eventually, she was rediscovered by political leader Juan Manuel de Rosas, who arranged for her to receive a pension in recognition of her service.

Highlights include:

For your first two years (when you were small) you lived in a foster home with people who raised you into a very polite young man. Two is like you plus me, that's what two is.

Some people adopted you before me and they called you Timmy (which is a stupid name) and they returned your ass almost immediately because you were so annoying at that age.

Like think about how annoying you are right now at seven years old, but way worse.

I'm better than them though, I don't call you Timmy and I wore earplugs to bed for three years because you love to scream at bedtime. Earplugs are like when I roll over and go back to sleep even when you are yelling so so so loud.

I got you at a time in my life when I was really sick (being sick is like when I'm up late because I'm throwing up and you are a very handsome good boy who sits with me) and they had to put me asleep for a procedure. A procedure is like what happened to you when they put you asleep and took your balls away.

Squeezing a hand for support through pain

Stroking a hand to soothe the sting of an IV

Pinning hands so they can be strapped down

Holding hands not to get separated while running

Bringing a hand up to kiss bruised/bloody knuckles

Gripping as tight as they can to pull them up from a fall