What checking the news felt like this morning
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@drifting-knightjar
What checking the news felt like this morning

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and, look, I’m not complaining, not at all, but this is why it’s very important to be abundantly clear and specific with your Etsy witch.
listen. someone needs to be held accountable
outta her damn mind
starting a collection
I work as a janitor and I feel like I’m gonna be thinking about this post a lot on the job

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Love that you’re making it clear exactly what physical demands this job has, but could you possibly, potentially, phrase it differently?
My resume
i had a dream last night that the entire world used a currency (?) called angrypennies which as the name implies are obtained by experiencing anger. the stronger and more intense your anger was, the more angrypennies you'd gain. an all-consuming rage would earn you more than a slight irritation, etc. so people were always searching for ways to fuel their anger and purposefully keeping themselves angry all the time because they wanted to earn angrypennies. unclear if angrypennies could be exchanged for goods and services, or if they were just a collectible.
anyway, as if this wasn't heavy-handed enough, at one point british comedian greg davies appeared and explained that angrypennies couldn't be worth feeling angry all the time. this was a real revelation to dream-me and i was finally able to break free of the angrypenny grind and allow myself to experience emotions other than anger.
it goes without saying that i will be using the word angrypenny as if it was part of the common vernacular instead of a term that my dreaming brain conjured up i.e. "he's all about the angrypennies" (derogatory way to refer to a guy who searches for reasons to be angry and possibly lacks introspection)
Theory Time
The reason endermen don’t like it when you look at them is because they communicate telepathically with one another by locking eyes! Humans are absolutely not designed to do this so when we look at them we are accidentally projecting all of our thoughts into them at the same time and it hurts :(
But like, since the player is not of the Minecraft world, the player is just what the use to explore it, what if it’s like:
Enderman: *looks at player’s eyes*
Player: 01010010 01100001 00100000 01110010 01100001 00100000 01010010 01100001 01110011 01110000 01110101 01110100 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01010010 01110101 01110011 01110011 01101001 01100001 01101110 00100000 01110001 01110101 01100101 01100101 01101110 00100000 01101111 01101000 00100000 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100101 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110010 01101101 01100001 01101110
Enderman: oh ok *attacks player*
This kills me every single fucking time
THE ORIGINAL??
A little advice from someone studying extremist groups: if you’re in a social media environment where the daily ubiquitous message is that you have no hope of any kind of future and you can’t possibly achieve anything without a violent overthrow of society, you’re being radicalized, and not in the good way.
If the solution to your problems sounds like “we need a blank slate” it’s a lie. There are no blank slates, and the closest approximation people can generally imagine is “burn it all down and let God/fate/history sort it out”.
That’s not problem solving. It’s barely catharsis, in practice. It doesn’t just create more problems than it solves, it destroys more solutions than it creates.
Put the apocalypse down, and back away slowly.
Real solutions to complex, systemic problems are not so easily reduced to “us good, them evil; kill them.”
[image transcript:
Voting as Fire Extinguisher
When the haunted house catches fire: a moment of indecision.
The house was, after all, built on bones, and blood, and bad intentions.
Everyone who enters the house feels that overwhelming dread, the evil that perhaps only fire can purge.
It’s tempting to just let it burn.
And then I remember:
there are children inside.
—Kyle Tran Myhre. end id]
You'll pay us for everything and own nothing and you'll thank us for it

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thinking about all the “small” art that’s ever existed. songs that were only ever sung in one village. stories written by children that got lost in the shuffle. personal paintings that didn’t survive the test of time. how they affected the lives of just a few, but still existed, still mattered to someone.
this is not a sad post!!!! this is a celebration!!!!! art is part of the human condition!!!!!!! we were born to create and share!!!!!!!!!!!
10/9/2023
“There’s a cure?!” asked the girl that kills everything she touches. “Hey shut up we’re perf” replied the girl that makes clouds.
For real though. Storm has stopped an entire tsunami before. “Makes clouds my ass” she can conjure lightning and tornadoes and is revered as a god in her tribe. She literally changes atmospheric pressure and that’s how she flies. So fuck you. Storm is flawless.
I think you missed the part where the GIRL WHO KILLS EVERYTHING SHE TOUCHES wants to NOT KILL EVERYTHING SHE TOUCHES and everyone dismisses her incredible misfortune just because the lady who is the AVATAR OF THE STORM won the fucking SUPERPOWER LOTTERY
And here we see X-Men perfectly illustrating the disparity between the larger disability community (Storm) and the chronic illness community (Rogue). One wants society to accept & respect them & their various different needs, which is surely a noble cause, while the other would like to NOT BE IN PAIN EVERY FUCKING DAY, which is just as important but often gets shouted down by non-ill disabled people who only want to talk about disability as a social construct.
Why both the social model and medical model are useless on their own, both are needed to fully understand disability justice.
Renarin does this every time Rlain hugs him in public
this is what solarpunk means to me. You find a printer. You fix it. You ask someone to please take it off their account and then they do and let you know. Beautiful. 100/10, wish printers didn't have to be tied to accounts in the first place but this is nice.
The FBI cut the phone lines during the 1977 disability rights sit-in. Then they turned off the hot water.
They locked the doors from the outside. One hundred and fifty people were trapped on the fourth floor. Half of them used wheelchairs. The government assumed they would leave.
Kitty Cone was thirty-three. She had muscular dystrophy. Her muscles were failing, but her logistics were flawless. She knew how to organize people.
The federal government had promised to sign regulations protecting disabled Americans from discrimination. The policy was known as Section 504. They printed the promise on paper. Then they stalled. Without a signature, it was just typography.
The protesters entered the regional Health, Education, and Welfare building in San Francisco on a Tuesday morning. They took the elevators to the director's office. They brought sleeping bags and catheters. They informed the staff they were not leaving until the law was signed.
By sunset, the police surrounded the exits. Kitty sat near the windows. She organized the floor plan. She assigned committees for security and sanitation. She kept her medication in a small cooler.
According to federal memorandums released decades later, the strategy to end the occupation relied on medical attrition. The building was not equipped for long-term habitation. The FBI calculated that a population requiring ventilators, specialized diets, and daily medical aides would voluntarily evacuate if the environment became sufficiently hostile. They instituted a blockade.
The blockade went into effect immediately. No food deliveries allowed. No medical supplies permitted through the lobby. Guards stood at the main doors checking identification.
Kitty's muscles deteriorated faster under the physical strain. She couldn't walk. When the phone lines went dead, the fourth floor lost contact with the press. The government waited for the quiet.
Kitty dropped to the floor. She realized the barricades were designed for standing adults. The police had blocked the hallways at waist height. They hadn't blocked the linoleum.
The floors were covered in cigarette ash and spilled coffee. She dragged her body through it. She crawled under the barricades to reach the restricted elevator shafts and unguarded offices.
She carried notes in her pockets. She found a single working payphone the FBI missed. She called the local news desks. She called the mayor's office.
She crawled back. When her arms failed, someone pulled her by her ankles. The Black Panthers heard the news reports. They crossed the police lines with hot meals. The FBI could not stop them without a riot.
They shut off the elevators, so she crawled.
The occupation lasted twenty-five days. It remains the longest non-violent occupation of a federal building in American history. On April 28, the Secretary of HEW signed the regulations without a single alteration.
The protesters left the building the next morning. They went back to their apartments. The Rehabilitation Act regulations laid the groundwork for every accessibility law that followed. The HEW building still stands on United Nations Plaza. The elevators run on a schedule. The doors are heavy glass.
Kitty Cone: the woman who crawled under the barricades.
Source: Kitty Cone's oral history, Bancroft Library.
Verified via: National Museum of American History.
(Some details summarized for brevity.)
yes and,
Brad Lomax who was disabled and a Black Panther was key to the Black Panthers involvement. They did more than provide meals and didn’t just hear it from the news. They were actively involved.
Explore Brad Lomax’s under-reported contributions to the early disability justice movement.

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what a beautiful day to not be in high school
made The Sandwich, my most favorite sandwich, for the first time in like a couple of years....oh baby you never disappoint me <3 i finished it six hours ago and i'm still thinking about her
i have eaten The Sandwich for every single meal since i made this post (wednesday night) (today is sunday). im pretty sure it has pulled me out of a depression funk. thank you, Sandwich
@unfavorableinstigation
DRIFT'S ITALIAN SANDWICH
Alright so you're gonna take a big ass piece of chewy, soft italian bread, and you're gonna cut it hot dog style and put it in your pan to toast the insides. Then you're gonna slice up half a white onion (seriously do NOT skimp on the onion) and lightly sautee it in the pan whilst the bread is toasting.
When the inside is all nice and warm, you're gonna take sliced turkey, and sliced SANDWICH pepperoni (istg do not use the small shitty pizza pepperoni if you can help it), a slice of provolone, and your ongions, and put it all together to toast in the pan. be sure to squish that mofo down so it becomes paninilike.
Whilst the sammich is warmin and toastin you're slicing up a small tomato and rinsing off some leafy greens. Once she's warm all the way through you're gonna take off the sandwich top and spread some mayo on it and shake a lotta oregano and some crushed red pepper into the mayo.
Add the tomato and the greens, replace the top, and squish together again and eat like a caveman >:)
Ingredience in list form:
This sounds fucking divine.
What is your advice on how cooked the onions should be? Because I absolutely believe they're what makes this next-level.
Excellent question, you are 100% right that the onions are the key. they should be juuuuuust sauteed enough that they aren't crunchy. You want them to still be juicy, but you want them sweet. (I like to slice them really big to help with the juice retention)
(and by slice i mean that i usually just break them into vaguely 1/2 inch squared pieces with my hands bc i'm too lazy to wash a knife)(and then i remember that i have to wash a knife in order to cut the tomatoes anyway and i feel like an idiot)
if you actually end up trying this pleaseeeee tell me if you like it!!