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FUCK YOU DISNEY

Note that Disney would have one Hell of a time serving C&Ds to authors at AO3 - because there is no “contact author” option other than leaving a comment.

Grace Hopper did more than coin the term “bug”. She invented the first program linker in the early 1950s, for the UNIVAC I. A program linker translates instructions from one language to another (for example, numerical codes that represent instructions translated to machine code that computers can read), which is the very foundation of how computer’s operate independently. she also pulled a steve rogers and tried to enlist in the military a bunch of times and was denied. then, an exception was made for her when she joined the navy reserves, and she ended up serving for over 40 years (half of which was active duty). she retired from the navy Rear Admiral Grace Hopper. she was born in NYC in 1906. Grace Hopper was a fucking badass.

me while writing very niche fanfic: there’s literally no way that, like, anyone is going to read this. you are writing this for you and you alone. you must accept it. you must be zen about it. you must expect nothing except the validation that comes of being able to go back and reread it yourself when you’re in the mood for this kind of fic.

Funny enough, there’s a long history of worker’s struggle in the Appalachians and South.

“Let’s show these fascists what a couple of hillbillies can do!” 

People are saying its a oxymoron because “redneck” is usually synonymous with “racist/stupid af” in america. And “racist/stupid af” in america tends to steer very far right.

I LOVE capitalist critical Appalachian culture. One of the first things i learned that fueled my interest was the origin of the word ‘redneck.’

Classism and anti-Southern elitism are used to divide the working class and push those with nascent leftist interests into liberal politics. Southerners are portrayed as biologically inferior, uneducated, homophobic, and racist despite being both a major site of labor disputes and the largest concentration of black Americans in the United States.

“Dogs don’t know what they look like. Dogs don’t even know what size they are. No doubt it’s our fault, for breeding them into such weird shapes and sizes. My brother’s dachshund, standing tall at eight inches, would attack a Great Dane in the full conviction that she could tear it apart. When a little dog is assaulting its ankles the big dog often stands there looking confused — “Should I eat it? Will it eat me? I am bigger than it, aren’t I?” But then the Great Dane will come and try to sit in your lap and mash you flat, under the impression that it is a Peke-a-poo… Cats know exactly where they begin and end. When they walk slowly out the door that you are holding open for them, and pause, leaving their tail just an inch or two inside the door, they know it. They know you have to keep holding the door open. That is why their tail is there. It is a cat’s way of maintaining a relationship. Housecats know that they are small, and that it matters. When a cat meets a threatening dog and can’t make either a horizontal or a vertical escape, it’ll suddenly triple its size, inflating itself into a sort of weird fur blowfish, and it may work, because the dog gets confused again — “I thought that was a cat. Aren’t I bigger than cats? Will it eat me?” … A lot of us humans are like dogs: we really don’t know what size we are, how we’re shaped, what we look like. The most extreme example of this ignorance must be the people who design the seats on airplanes. At the other extreme, the people who have the most accurate, vivid sense of their own appearance may be dancers. What dancers look like is, after all, what they do.”

I grew up with a grandma who quilted, but she’d never been interested in passing along the hobby, so when she finally kicked it I was the grandkid who got all her materials, ‘cause I was the only one who knew how to use a sewing machine. Then, in 2015, a friend had a baby and I figured I’d make her a quilt, ‘cause how hard could it be?

Oh heck I did not expect the notes to blow up on this, UM

I’m very sorry to tell you that if you thought we would be less impressed with you after this update you were very mistaken. I’ll say again:

In the middle of lunch one day, everyone minding their own business in the cafeteria, a Senior guy dressed in a banana costume came in screaming. He was in clear DISTRESS. Flailing his arms and running in zig zags. He kept screaming things like “help me!” and “he’s going to get me!” && we were all SO confused until all of a sudden a damn gorilla shows up (guy in suit, of course). He beats on his chest and lets out a huge roar, the banana lets out a shriek, and then it’s ON. These two ran through our tiny cafeteria, the gorilla roaring and the banana frantically singing “I will survive.” At one point the banana saw someone with a banana peel on their table (clearly they had ate a banana for lunch) and he took the peel from them and screamed “BROOOOTTHHHERRR!” before returning to singing “I will survive” in a much more determined tone.