Locally beaned candy jelly

[Video description: a man holding a small chocolate box is wearing a orange plaid shirt, he is mostly bald but has a beard and small amount of hair on his head. The man also has tattoos on his arms.

Man: you know, momma always said having kids was like a box of chocolates

You never know what your gonna get

(the man opens the box and pulls out a small note with the word pansexual written on it)

Man: thats a good one!

(pulls out note with bisexual written on it)

Man: i like that one too!

(pulls out another note with asexual on it)

Man: thats a good one!

(pulls out card with gender fluid on it)

Man: yes!

(pulls out card with non binary on it)

Man: oh, yes!

(pulls out card with trans gender on it)

Man: definitely!!

(pulls out card with straight on it)

Man: thats a good one

(pulls out card with gay on it)

Man: i like that one!

(pulls out card with lesbian on it)

Man: and i like this one too!

There isn’t anything in this box that i dont like!

The video ends and is credited to princess dad @/ourdadnow on tik tok

My Husband was in Boyscouts and he talks fondly about how it taught him how to cook, repair clothes, balance a checkbook and set up a comfortable emergency shelter so he could make a home wherever he went.

A lot of people in the notes are Speculating that the difference between Mom and OP’s expiriences with Scouts is that a lot of the quality of the org relies upon your individual troop leaders (I’m inclined to agree- I never got to be in Scouts because the troop leader for my local group told my mom she didn’t “want a r*tard” slowing down the other girls” in front of me.)

But for Mom her troop leaders were:

Grandma, who despite having an eighth-grade education, was so good at accounting and statistics she became the head Finance Officer for a local grocery chain and testified in several fraud and wage-theft cases.

Mrs. Feldmyer, whose husband served in europe in WWII and brought her home from France with him. To quote Mom: “I always wondered why we had human-shaped targets for archery and rifles until I learned about the French Resistance in High School.” Mrs. Feldmyer’s Husband lost a leg in the War and thier daughter had some kind of severe autoimmune disorder so Mrs and Mr. Feldmyer were big on teaching the Troop about Disability Rights, first aid and medical respnsibilty.  They pettitioned the Organization to make a Vaccination Badge for undertaking the civic responsibilty of getting fully vaccinated but that didn’t come to pass, but they did make sure Mom’s whole troop got vaccinated for EVERYTHING as soon as it became available.

Actually now that I’m thinking abut it there were several women who married american servicemen to get the hell out of Europe after the war and all of them taught shooting, archery or “Self Defense”

“Aunt Hattie” Who wasn’t Mom’s Aunt, but thier Hungarian neighor, who had a degree in Mycology and had been elementary-age during WWII, so she and her sisters basically lived in to woods for like six years to avoid the fighting.

Mrs. Chapel and Mrs. Jefferson’s daughters weren’t “Officially” part of the troop for a while because they were Black and Ohio’s local segregation laws took forever to repeal, but they had Uniforms and went on trips with the troop and earned badges the same, and their moms would cover a lot of Current Events for the Troop so Mom and the troop walked in her first Civil Rights Protest March when she was 9.  The second they *could* file the girls in, grandma had them registered within the week.

It’s worth noting many of the Fathers were involved in thr troop as well. Grandpa was the local United Auto Worker’s Union Representative, so everyone had to learn what fair compensation looked like, how to Negotiate effectively and how to organize a Strike  (He was also responsible for the Stag.  He was a sucker for animals).   Mr. Chapel was an auto mechanic and by god everyone learned how to change oil and tires and do a lot of thier own auto repair and diagnostics. Mr. Feldmyer organized everyone’s Polio Vaccinations.

So if you want to learn Survival Skills, accounting, shooting, mycology, how to organize your community and uh. Smuggle a fucking deer into your house. the best thing I can reccomend is making friends with your local Union representatives, State and National Park staff, museum/zoo/botanic garden employees and probably the Society for Creative Anachronism for archery and other combat skills.

Pronouns

An accent

Now, somehow, their entire mental health is based on the continued life and happiness of this fairground goldfish that they picked up.

Neither of you know the first thing about how to care for even a healthy fish. This fish has been poorly cared for, has multiple diseases and the person who handed it over explicitly didn't expect it to live nearly as long as it already has.

You're frantically googling how to set up a fish tank, where to buy fish food, can you even take a fish to the vet? Your partner wants you to know that they're happy they made it home and survived their horrific ordeal, but also that if anything happens to the fish then they're going to kill everyone on this planet and then themself.

You're honestly wondering if you're even helping the fish, or just prolonging its suffering, but your partner will only accept medical help for their many injuries or engage in basic self-care once they're confident that the fish is being looked after.

So you get a tank. You set up a filter and all that stuff. You learn way more than you ever wanted to know about water temperature and ph and nitrate levels. The fish is safe. You start to develop some affection for the little guy. Your partner begins to recover. The fish begins to recover.

Which is when you learn that in its 'healthy' state, the fish regularly refuses to sleep when tired, keeps begging for food that is obviously unhealthy for it (and struggling to eat the food that you do provide because “it tastes gross”), and continually tries to persuade your partner to take it out of its nice safe tank so it can go explore the wonderful world of Outside, where the slightest mishap will kill it instantly.