"No, I mean-"

Oh, maybe the woman who had to pee in a public park that only had pay toilets, so she tried to hide behind the bushes but got caught? Public urination is a sex crime.

"What? No, I mean-"

Oh, maybe you mean the homeless guy who had to strip down to get his clothes in the laundromat to clean them for the first time in weeks? He tried being subtle, but someone called the cops on him, and now he's on the sex offender registry for public nudity.

"Rapists and pedophiles! Kill rapists and pedophiles!"

Oh, like the trans woman who got called a pedophile groomer for helping a trans kid escape her abusive parents?

Or maybe the black man who got labeled a rapist because he came on to another man's wife, and he decided to get back at him by charging him with rape?

How about the 17 year olds who were fooling around, fully consensually, in one of their bedrooms? That's still technically underage sex and thus rape of a minor.

Oh, or maybe you're talking about the doctor who performed genital reconstructive surgery in a state that just voted to get that classified as rape?

People will do everything they can to get you convinced rape and pedophilia are the worst crimes possible, then accuse whoever they like the least of being either a rapist, a pedophile, or both, counting on you turning on them just for being accused of the crime.

"Oh, so you're saying you don't want to kill a serial rapist?"

That's exactly what I'm goddamn saying.

Once we decide a group is okay to kill, the government will do everything they can to convince you that their political enemies are either part of that group, or just as bad as that group, to get you to kill their enemies for them.

The only way out is to accept every life as worth saving.

EDIT: If you're going to go on this post to say that no, you think you really should be allowed to kill people you decide are rapists and/or pedophiles, I'm going to block you. I have already been blocking you, because it's clear that you aren't willing to engage with what I'm saying.

Also, if someone says something like that we'd be better off with rapists being dead BUT that they won't let that opinion shape their stance on public policy, and you reply to that person to accuse them of wanting to murder people, I'm also going to block you, because what the fuck that's a completely different sentence.

EDIT 2: Since so many people seem to fail basic reading comprehension, let's state it again, in different words:

1. Killing people is bad.

2. Killing someone can never be undone by any means we have.

3. If the government can kill people, they will want to kill their political opposition and other undesirables (WHICH CAN INCLUDE YOU PERSONALLY AND ANY IF NOT ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY).

4. If there is a class of people OF ANY TYPE who the government can LEGALLY KILL, they now just need to convince you their enemies count as that class (ever wondered why there's so much emphasis on claiming gay people are pedophiles? Now you know!)

5. If there is a class of people OF ANY TYPE that the public can LEGALLY KILL, murderers just need to convince people that their victims counted as that class (I murdered him because he's a rapist. Anyway now his job is free promote me into that position plz.)

6. As pointed out in the notes (thank you everyone pointing this out!), if the penalty for a crime is death, people are much more willing to silence witnesses to that crime (for example, murdering their rape victims), which is EVEN WORSE than just committing the initial crime.

"I wrote a eulogy for my best friend last week. Then I read it to him. At the pub. On a Tuesday."

He was alive, holding a pint, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I have.

I'm Mick. I'm 70. The man across the table was Barry. Seventy-two. Best mate for 46 years. Met on a building site in 1979. He dropped a plank on my foot. I called him something unrepeatable. He bought me a pint after the shift. Haven't gone a week without talking since.

Three months ago we went to a funeral. Bloke we'd worked with. Cancer. The eulogies were beautiful - people saying what he meant to them, things they'd clearly never said to his face. And all I could think was, he can't hear any of this.

Every beautiful sentence. Every "he changed my life." Said to a room of crying people and a box of wood.

I turned to Barry. Whispered, "What a waste."

Drove home. Couldn't sleep. Because I realised, if Barry died tomorrow, I'd stand up and say extraordinary things about this man. Things I've never said in 46 years. And he'd be in the box, missing all of it.

So I wrote them down. Took a week. Harder than expected - not finding the words, but admitting I had them.

Rang him. "Tuesday. The Crown. Need to read you something."

"Have you joined a book club?"

"Just come."

Same corner table. Pint of bitter. Crisps. I pulled out the paper. He saw my hands shake.

"Mick. What's this?"

"Your eulogy. I'm reading it now because I'm not wasting it on a day you can't hear it."

"Have you gone mad?"

"Probably. Shut up and listen."

I read it. In a pub. To a man very much alive and very much uncomfortable.

I told him about the plank and how it was the best injury of my life. About the night he drove forty minutes in rain to help change a tyre. About how he rang every day for three months after my divorce and never once asked "Are you alright?" - just talked about football and weather, because he knew I didn't need a question. I needed a voice.

I told him he was the funniest man I'd ever known and his jokes were terrible and both things were true. That he'd been a better father than he thinks. That his wife's a saint and he knows it. That I'd have been a worse man without him.

He didn't look at me. Stared at his pint. Jaw tight. Doing that thing men do when the feelings arrive and they'd rather swallow glass than show it.

When I finished, long silence. Then he picked up his pint, took a sip, and said,

"You're paying for the next round. And the one after."

That was his answer. Perfect. Because Barry doesn't say "I love you too." He says "you're buying."

But in the car park, he hugged me. Not the quick back-pat. A real one. Thirty seconds. Neither let go first.

And he said quietly into my shoulder, "Don't read that again at the real one. I want new material."

Who would you write a eulogy for - while they're still here?

Don't wait. The flowers can't hear. The box doesn't laugh. Say it now. At the pub. Over a bad cup of tea. You'll feel ridiculous.

They'll look uncomfortable. It'll be the most important thing you've ever done.

Read them the speech while they can still hug you in the car park.”

Everyone's talking about Artemis II, the first humans to travel to the moon in 50 years

Historic, right? BUT nobody's talking about the Deaf people who made it possible.

In the late 1950's, NASA had a problem.

They needed to understand what weightlessness did to the human body but every test subject kept getting violently motion sick

NASA needed to figure out FAST during the space race!

So, they went to Gallaudet University. They recruited 11 Deaf people.

Because a number of Deaf people had lost their hearing to spinal meningitis as children which also damaged their vestibular system.

Their inner ears couldn't be overwhelmed. They were immune to motion sickness.

NASA put them in centrifuges. Put them on zero gravity flights. A room for 12 straight days.

(All caps) It rotated the entire time.

One experiment on a ferry in choppy Nova Scotia waters, the researchers got so seasick they had to cancel it. The Gallaudet Eleven? They were playing cards.

Their bodies gave NASA the data and research it needed to send humans into space.

No Gallaudet Eleven? No Mercury. No Apollo. No Artemis II.

They stood on the shoulders of 11 Deaf people most people have never heard of.

If you find any mistakes in the links let me know and I'll edit. This post will be in two parts, because I literally broke tumblr with how many authors there were. I think it's about a hundred and fifty.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé - speculative fiction

Marguerite Abouet - graphic novels

Elizabeth Acevedo - fiction, poetry

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - fiction

Tomi Adeyemi - young adult fantasy

K Ancrum - speculative contemporary young adult

Lily Anderson - fiction

Ashley Antoinette - fiction

Ama Ata Aidoo - poetry, fiction, plays

Kemi Ashing Giwa - speculative fiction

Kalynn Bayron - young adult, fantasy

Malorie Blackman - childrens' books, young adult

Natasha Bowen - fantasy

Gwendolyn Brooks - poetry

Natasha Brown - fiction

NoViolet Bulawayo - fiction

Constance Burris - speculative fiction

CL Clark - fantasy, speculative fiction

Wahida Clark - urban fiction

Lucille Clifton - poetry, fiction

Alyssa Cole - romance, thrillers, graphic novels

Kamilah Cole - fiction

Claire Coleman - fiction, essays, poetry

Maryse Condé - fiction, non-fiction, plays

Emma Dabiri - non-fiction

Edwidge Danticat - fiction

Angela Davis - philosophy

Carolina Maria De Jesus - memoir

Hayley Dennings - fiction

Tracy Deonn - fiction

Nicky Drayden - speculative fiction

Tananarive Due - horror, comics

Camille Dungy - memoir, poetry

Esi Edugyan - fiction

Zetta Elliot - childrens' books, teen fiction, adult fiction

Bernardine Evaristo - fiction

Conceição Evaristo - fiction, non-fiction

Eve Ewing - poetry, fiction, non-fiction, comics

Radna Fabias - poetry

Namina Forna - young adult fantasy

Latoya Ruby Frazier - non-fiction

Stella Gaitano - fiction

Camryn Garrett - fiction, middle grade

Roxane Gay - fiction, non-fiction, comics

Nicole Glover - fantasy, speculative fiction

Nikki Giovanni - poetry, essays

Jewelle Gomez - fiction, plays

Annette Gordon-Reed - non-fiction (history)

Pumla Dineo Gqola - non-fiction

Deanna Grey - romance

Yaa Gyasi - fiction

Andrea Hairston - fiction

Lorraine Hansberry - plays

Saidiya Hartman - non-fiction, theory

Alexis Henderson - dark speculative fiction

Adriana Herrera - romance

Talia Hibbert - romance

bell hooks - fiction, non-fiction, poetry

Pauline Hopkins - fiction, non-fiction, plays

Nalo Hopkinson - speculative fiction

Jordan Ifueko - comics, fantasy, young adult

Samantha Irby - non-fiction

Justina Ireland - science fiction, fantasy, comics

Meka James - contemporary and erotic romance

Tiffany D Jackson - young adult

Beverly Jenkins - romance

Alaya Dawn Johnson - speculative fiction

Micaiah Johnson - science fiction

Mariame Kaba - non-fiction

Petals Kalulé - fiction, poetry [Petals is noted as using she/they, I'm not 100% sure of their gender identity and past a certain point it feels weird to investigate too much]

Mikki Kendall - fiction, non-fiction

Jamaica Kincaid - fiction, non-fiction

Zaire Krieger - poetry

Nella Larsen - fiction

Karmen Lee - romance

Kirsten R. Lee - young adult

Margot Lee Shetterly - non-fiction

Terry Macmillen - fiction

Robin Maynard - non-fiction

Amber Mcbride - poetry, young adult

Janet Mock - non-fiction, screenwriting

Brittney Moris - comics, young adult, fantasy

Bethany C Morrow - fiction, science fiction, young adult

Leila Mottley - fiction, poetry

Beatriz Nascimento - non-fiction

Leticia Nascimento - I think non-fiction primarily

Gloria Naylor - fiction

Zora Neale Hurston - fiction, non-fiction

Grace Nichols - poetry

Siphiwe Gloria Ndlovu - fiction

Trifonia Melibea Obono - fiction

Shirlene Obuobi - comics, fiction

Nnendi Okorafor - science fiction

Melatu Uche Okorie - fiction

Chinelo Okparanta - fiction

Helen Oyeyemi - fiction

Nell Painter - non-fiction

Morgan Parker - poetry, non-fiction

Nikki Payne - romance

Koleka Putuma - plays, poetry

Claudia Rankine - poetry, plays, non-fiction

Sarah Raughley - young adult

Dia Reeves - fantasy, horror, science fiction

Kiley Reid - fiction

Stacy Reid - romance

Djamila Ribero - philosophy

Legacy Russell - fiction, non-fiction, poetry

Layla F. Saad - non-fiction

Sofia Samatar - fiction, non-fiction

Liselle Sambury - fantasy

Analeigh Sbrana - romance, fantasy

Namwali Serpell - fiction

Ntozake Shange - plays, poetry

Christina Sharpe - non-fiction

Nisi Shawl - fiction, alternate history

Jamison Shea - dark fantasy/horror

Patricia Smith - poet

Tracy K Smith - poet

Zadie Smith - fiction

Sister Souljah - fiction

Kiki Swinson - fiction

Mildred D Taylor - young adult/children's lit

Katerina Teaiwa - non-fiction

Teresia Teaiwa - poetry

Angie Thomas - young adult, middle grade

Leah Thomas - non-fiction

Spike Trotman - comics

Tloto Tsamaase - science fiction

Nikki Turner - urban fiction

Maxine Tynes - poetry

Ngozi Ukazu - comics

Shola von Reinhold - fiction

Wanjikũ wa Ngũgĩ - fiction

Jasmine Walls - graphic novels

Alice Walker - fiction, non-fiction, poetry

Jesmyn Ward - fiction

Monica West - fiction

Phyllis Wheatley-Peters - poetry

Rita Williams-Garcia - young adult, middle grade

Stephanie Williams - comics, non-fiction

Tia Williams - fiction, romance

Raquel Willis - non-fiction

Jamila Woods - poetry

Jacqueline Woodson - childrens' books, young adult, fiction, poetry

Alexis Wright - fiction, non-fiction

Zane - erotic fiction

Oyinkan Braithwaite - Fiction

The art of mindless embroidery.

Whyyyyyy is no one else as exited as me about Dinoblade?? IT HAS EVERYTHING ONE COULD WANT! Dinosaurs, and Swords, and… Ok, that is kinda it, but what else do you need??

Horse loves butt scratches

They remind me that no matter where we are from, we are human. And with that we have the capacity to be brilliant.

Context:

So today I typed ~4,500 words, and now my middle fingers hurt. I was never taught how to touch type (didn’t even know it was a thing when I was younger), so I defaulted to the hunt-and-peck method. Honestly, I feel kinda ashamed that I can’t type “properly.”

I tried learning touch typing online for a couple of days, but gave up—I don’t type often enough to justify the effort, and depression makes it even harder to push myself.

Anyway, I wanted to ask: how do you type?

As for the second question, there's too many "normal" things that I never learned that make me feel bad all the time. At this point I just try to tell myself that it's not my fault, even when it's the most "basic" thing that "everyone should know", and force myself to ignore the shame.