currently existing...

you're getting ice cream with your friend and they make a comment about the fat person eating an ice cream cone you SAY, "oh then I guess you don't want ice cream, let's go." (fat people don't need to earn food even for enjoyment)

you're at the beach and a fat person is laying out and your dad says something rude about it you SAY, "I think they look comfortable. It's good they're getting some sun. I bet they work hard all year for this vacation." (fat people deserve to appear in public)

so there’s this guy, right? and he’s a plain cheerio. they live in a world where there are three kinds of cheerios; there are plain cheerios, the underclass. the worst of all of them. then honey nut cheerios. a middle class. they can live a comfortable life. and then finally, the cinnamon cheerios. they are the wealthiest of all cheerios. they live a good life; they are powerful and rich and happy. and most importantly, once a year, they vote on a plain cheerio to ritualistically feast on. 

unfortunately, this year, it so happens that our cheerio’s number came up. he doesn’t want this to happen! he has a beautiful wife, and several kids. he has an okay job, and most importantly, he wants to live. so he goes to the cheerio bureau and asks what can be done about it. and they say, ‘well, there is one thing, but you might not like it…’. they explain to him that there is a notoriously difficult entrance exam, and any plain cheerio that makes it can be doused in honey nuts and become a honey nut cheerio and therefore be saved from the ritualistic eating. however, there are two caveats: the exam is ridiculously difficult, and to prevent just anyone from taking it, anyone who fails the exam will immediately be subject to death. the second is that plain cheerios are forbidden to fraternize with the upperclasses. he will have to leave his wife and children behind. 

he thinks about it. he talks it over with his wife. the first part doesn’t bother him; he would die anyway if he fails the test. the second part, though, is a lot. he kisses his wife and promises her that if he passes this test, he’ll find a way to find her again. she tells him she loves him and escorts him to the test center. 

(now, this part is very important, so pay attention) when he takes the test, he uses a green pencil, and he’s writing it on blue paper. green pencil; blue paper. the questions are hard. they’ve never tested him this hard in his life. he’s asked to remember obscure cheerio laws, nutritional calculations, seminal essays about cheeriodom. he’s nervous. he’s sweating. he doesn’t know if he can make it. but he looks down at his green pencil and he thinks of his wife. and that love pushes him through. 

the blue paper is being put through the scantron now. he’s waiting, bated breath. and the results come back: a perfect score. he now qualifies to become a honey nut cheerio. 

the dousing is easy; painless and almost comfortable, and suddenly, he has access to a whole world he’s never seen before. beautiful cheerio girls who never would have given him the time of day look at him. he can quit his shitty job and suddenly access dozens of better ones, with superior opportunities and pay. he’s invited to parties- real parties with punch and wine and snacks abound! it’s comfortable, and he settles into a routine fairly quickly. he never does learn what poor plain cheerio was chosen for the feasting in his place. 

he thinks of his wife at times, of course; his children, too. but suddenly, her cheerio face is not as beautiful to him as it once was. and with the new wealth of honey nut women who he can meet, eventually, he starts to… forget. he meets another woman; a honey nut cheerio with a comfortable 9-to-5 middle class lifestyle. she’s pretty and active and kind to him, and soon, they fall in love. they can afford amenities he never could before; they get an okay house, and he is happy. 

but proximity to power means proximity to a greener grass, and the more time he spends away from the plain cheerios, the closer he can see the lifestyles of the cinnamon cheerios. and it doesn’t even compare: cheerio yachts, constant parties, no need to work; they just live it up. the most expensive nights out, the most beautiful women, the biggest houses. it’s incredible. 

and eventually, a nice, pleasant, average lifestyle pales in comparison. he is saved from the death of a plain cheerio, but what kind of life is mediocrity? he goes to the cheerio bureau again and asks if anything can be done. the cheerio tsks. sucks her teeth. thinks. and says, ‘i’m really not supposed to do this, but there is another test you can take. if you pass, you can become a cinnamon cheerio. but this one is higher-stakes than before. if you fail it, you will not only be killed, but your friends and family will as well? are you willing to take that risk?’. the honey nut cheerio thinks for half a second, and just like that; agrees. 

the second test is even harder than before. he’s asked to solve complex calculations; to memorize the geography of the wheat fields from whence they came; to recite hundreds of pages of the cheerio code from memory. now, this time, instead of a green pencil on blue paper, he’s using a blue pencil on green paper. blue pencil; green paper. he looks down at the green paper, and he thinks of his girlfriend. he thinks of his life, and hers, and for just a split second, he thinks of his old wife. where is she now? and finally, he thinks of the life he could lead as a cinnamon cheerio. wealth, beauty, constant parties with no downsides. this is what he wants. 

the scantron is reading his results. he waits. he ruminates. the green paper comes out. he’s passed. 

he is doused in cinnamon. now, he is a god.

life as a cinnamon cheerio is just as perfect as he imagined it. he is happy. he is wealthy. he had to leave his last girlfriend and house behind, sure, but she is barely average compared to the cinnamon cheerio women, all of him are practically falling on themselves to be with him. he has a massive mansion, a cheerio yacht, a cheerio rolex; a fridge that dispenses milk on command. and even better, once a year, he gets to feed on a lowly plain cheerio. the idea that he was ever one of those things horrifies him now. can you imagine!? 

now, he’s at a party, thrown by a wealthy and popular cinnamon cheerio, and the decorations today are a little peculiar. all the flowers are green, and all the grass is blue. why those colours? why today? a beautiful girl sits on the edge of a milk pool, tanning and resting. he gets up and talks to her. she looks so familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it. have they met? 

"and NOW she's acting like a victim *laughing emoji*" this six year old girl doesn't know anything about the world let alone how to process her emotions

I’ve had to fucking explain this to parents. Why can’t the baby stop crying? Because that’s the only way the baby knows how to communicate -- they’re trying to tell you something. Why is this child acting like the world is ending because they lost their favorite toy? Because they’ve never experienced loss before -- this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them in their lives

Children have all the emotional capacity of adults and none of the experience in learning how to cope with it. A knee scraped for the first time is the worst pain a child has ever felt. Not getting to go to the park is the greatest injustice ever.

I accidentally leave the milk out overnight.

Milk smells bad the next day.

Why does milk smell bad?

jat

jlasses

jloves

and

jarf

jie

or a 

jallgown

jurse

or your

The 1973 Levi’s Gremlin.

Looks like just another AMC Gremlin, yeah? Well, notice the Levi’s logo on the front fender just behind the wheel well, and you know that when you get in this car, you’re in for something very… special.

Your eyes are not deceiving you. The seats and the trunk are upholstered in GENUINE LEVI’S DENIM, complete with bronze stitching. This is not some ironic custom job from recent times, either; this was a real option offered by AMC in 1973.

please don’t spread it around. there’s a question in it that depicts a Native subject that’s not supposed to be named, depicted, or spoken of, accompanied by imagery. the question itself portrays it as being on the same level as local legends and cryptids.

Fellow anishinaabe people please be cautious continuing and know your limits. MENTIONS OF THE ICE GIANT UNDER CUT. 

(by it gets worse, i am no way downplaying navajo issues. i mean “its worse- this isnt a one time mistake, they do this and they do this apparently, somewhat often”)

If you’re nervous about them (not yknow. allergic. let’s not intentionally misinterpret what I’m saying) ignore them. And I do mean IGNORE. Don’t react.

Also, are you watering or generally handling a source of liquid and they won’t leave you alone? Share some at a distance from yourself. Hell are you eating and they want some? Share it.

Honestly if people treated them with the calmness and affection they show bees they’d have better experiences.

all of the above advice works 100%. wasps and bees and all stinging critters are very very unlikely to sting you if you stay calm and move slowly. they are VERY LIKELY to sting you if you move quickly and jerkily, and are guaranteed to try to sting you if you attempt to kill them. they are not hunting you, they are not stupid, they know you are the size of a skyscraper. they will ONLY sting you if they believe you are trying to hurt or kill them.

many species of wasps, and especially yellowjackets, are solitary or social predators/scavengers. they are extremely intelligent, and aware of you as a fellow creature, whatever that may mean to their bug intelligence.

they are not mindless computers, they are more like little cats or wolves. and they are just doing what it takes to make a living on god’s gay earth: looking for food and water for their children 

This is exactly why I made this post—not that I expect everyone to fall head over heels in love with these creatures but to see their importance beyond the cultural knee-jerk reaction because of the reductive view we’ve cultivated of them.

I’m also not saying that they’re never somewhat unpredictable and that they’ll never hurt you—just like any other creature they have the capacity too. It’s just very much increased when the reaction to them is to flail and swat and scream.

Thank you guys for your thoughtful additions to this post I appreciate beyond words. Pls continue to carry this level of care and education as our friends wake for winter and start flying around again!