maiv

like here we have lando saying he will try to take advantage of max being competitive. it's easier if u have a 2nd team in the picture.

BC THATS WHAT BROCEDES tried to do themselves!!! sorry to link them up but it's THE TRUTH. you had toto even calling jos to tell max to not race his cars 😭😭😭😭

so watch this vid of nico after winning the japanese gp (only 4 races to go now!!) and being SO happy (i guess bc merc won the wcc title that race as well - tbh lewis didnt share the same enthusiasm lol) but in my head is bc max managed to finish p2 ahead of lewis!!! my god he needs to take a selfie with 'crazy max' between themmmm

and then in brazil lewis says to max in the cool down room MAN "U COULD'VE EASILY STAYED SECOND" 😭😭😭😭 help me out here and take some points off of him too 😭😭😭😭

AND MAX JUST WENT "sorry 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️" it's not my business

(tumblr don't let me upload two clips in the same post arghhhhh)

and HE ALSO GOES 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️ IN THE PODIUM bc he knows his performance was that good

Lewis & Nico, 1998

I was never interested in music or film, because I think people make too much noise as it is. I like subtle things grown from lonely, dedicated, quiet lives; not thick oil on canvasses depicting fat-arsed bitches, landscapes and famous stallions—bright and garish, with either no meaning or a weak one—but delicate stitches, mathematics spiralling around the human form, woven fabrics which take months to create, and all for the most simple and honest purpose. Something where a centimetre mistake, a slip of the hand, a flaw in the materials or execution, ruins the whole thing. Something that is fit, cut, and painstakingly crafted for one person to make them a work of art. It doesn't wear you; it becomes you. It's the ultimate aesthetic virtue.

When you find it, it says: 'This is the best I can achieve. I could do no better for an emperor or a god, and I made it for you in return for a fistful of paper and for the love of it. This is the best. You are the best.'

It seems stupid, but sometimes it was all I could cling to in a world full of evil and hatred which began to pour from me, despite myself. Feeling that sewn-together cloth, seeing my new skin and myself streamlined in the mirror like a cold-blooded shark, renewed my belief in that childish hope for a better world. God knows that there's little else which attested to anyone else's beauty of mind. And when I wore a bespoke suit, it became armour to me. People treated me with respect, they noticed me, I got offers: 'Do this, and I'll give you something you want.' I did it. I felt dirty at first, but that was all. I didn't see what the fuss was about, or why they'd want so little from me. And after I'd showered and put on that suit again, I was beautiful once more; my cause was beautiful, my martyrdom was beautiful. I was made clean again.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

“You can’t outright ask someone if they have a car or have kids. That’s technically illegal. But you need to know because sometimes they can be deal breakers. You can just say ‘Do you have reliable transportation?’ and ‘Do you have any current circumstances that could impede you from being successful at work?’

To which the last one most people fumble and would say, “Well I have kids, so sometimes they could get sick. But that’s not often.” But then your potential employer could mark it down on your interview notes nonetheless.

I thought that maybe it was just my own employer. But now I noticed that I am asked both of these almost every time I interview for a job.

there was once a little boy.

he is born disabled. his body hurts, and he can’t walk properly the way the other children do. he doesn’t understand why. he’s a little boy. but he plays with wooden boats and pulls toys on a string.

somebody makes him a tunic. they sew ducks onto it in red and green and yellow and blue. the bright colours of a child.

the little boy is eight years old, and he’s going to be king now. there’s a big ceremony about it. he doesn’t really fully understand what’s going on, because he’s eight, but he wears the tunic with the brightly coloured ducks for the occasion because he loves it. look at his ducks! aren’t they great?

he is a child. the adults around him manipulate and coax him to gain more power for themselves. he still plays with toys.

as a teenager, not yet an adult, he fathers children. they do not survive. he’s not even old enough to have full agency in his job and is still being manipulated, but he had babies and they died.

he does not make it to his twenties. at eighteen or nineteen years old he dies, and is buried. his babies, so tiny, are buried with him.

and so is his tunic with the little ducks that he loved so much he kept it long after it no longer fit.

yeah i think that like. especially with historical figures in your mind people who were kings and queens or important nobles were adults. even if you know how old they were it doesn’t really click. it doesn’t seem real

but then you get something like a little tunic with brightly coloured ducks on it and it hits you like a fucking truck that this really was a little kid and no matter how far removed you are a little kid is still a little kid. their brains didn’t develop any quicker back then. he was just as developed/mature mentally as any 8 year old now. he had cartoonish animals on his clothes and he played with toy boats and probably terrorised the local cat population.

tutankhamun was a child and he didn’t make it to adulthood because he was unfortunate enough to be a very important child

his dad died when he was 8. he saw his own babies die when he was still just a boy himself.

tutankhamun had a little pair of sandals with ducks on them. he had earrings decorated with ducks. he kept those, and other items of childhood clothing. some toys. keepsakes. things he loved, and treasured. he kept them all in a little wooden chest. the chest… was carved with ducks.

and that little duck chest, filled with things he kept from his childhood, was buried with him. maybe he was keeping them for the little babies who did not make it. maybe they just reminded him of good days and fun times.

WITH PLEASURE

(greyscale makes it hard but the duck head is on the right above the toe strap. always takes me a while to find it too)

So a question for my followers: Give your best guess as to why this could have worked without looking it up.

So how did a blood transfusion treat syphilis? Well, in the 1700s, blood transfusions were not done with human blood- they were done with animal blood, usually lamb or calf blood. Since biblically calf or lamb blood was pure and contributed to the sweet nature of the animals, it was thought that if given to someone who was experiencing paranoia and hallucinations, the psychotic symptoms would decrease. This was not the case.