Random Stuff

And he kept doing it. Scene after scene.

He spent the film expecting someone to make a joke about how unserious things were or to break the fourth wall or do some other self referential type thing.

Now, maybe I'm just at that point in my cycle or maybe I'm too delicate in general, but I literally teared up hearing that. Straight up cried a bit. It is so fucking sad that sincerity and genuineness is being bred out of people.

People say all the time 'this generation can't take anything seriously!' and really, is it any wonder? Younger people have been trained out of it. You are no longer encouraged to be genuine or show emotion or be honest. You are actively punished for it. In fact, you are almost guaranteed to suffer for it.

That is so fucked up. I'm sorry to go on a bit of a random ramble rant but it's so fucking gut wrenching to see younger people lose that element of themselves. You can't express your passion without being told you're 'crashing out' or 'cringe'. You have to live in this neutral state of fear of perception, and god forbid anybody step outside of it!

You're told you should only consume and succumb and be ironic and emotionless and cool.

Listen, if you're following me and you're like.... 25 or under, let's say. Please. I beg of you. Do not fall for this rhetoric. Please, for the love of all things, feel. Feel and create and be honest with yourself. Indulge in things that make you happy. Be sincere. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Do not let this hyper-capitalistic, hyper-consumerist, self-centred, individualist culture take that from you.

One of the only asexual activists is Yasmin Benoit, a Black woman. She has raised so much awareness for the community. She was the first asexual person to lead Pride in London, she started the #thisiswhatasexuallookslike movement and is THE leading voice for the community.

And you all will celebrate international asexuality day on April 6th but we wouldn't even have that if she hadn't cofounded it.

Now they finally have a chance to continue.

If you can’t donate, don’t worry.

Just reblog it.

It costs nothing, but it might reach someone who can actually change everything.

One of my lovely patrons requested Spamton Neo from Deltarune and I was so, so eager to oblige.

havent seen anyone talking about this here yet but uhhh things are gettin bad

It’s been a year since we launched the Science IRL mini-grant program! Our grantees have mostly completed their projects, and we’re excited to share what they all got up to this past year.

The 2025 Science IRL mini-Grant program supported grassroots science communication projects that brought science directly into everyday life across the United States. The grant provided financial support to awardees as well as guidance during the development of the project. Priority was given to projects that served underrepresented regions, focused on pressing issues like climate change, biodiversity, and public health, and engaged people in unexpected ways, rather than traditional classroom or lecture settings.

Wildlife Ambassador Car Magnets: Delaware Megan Paustian This project designed wildlife-themed car magnets to share with libraries and nature centers to highlight the biodiversity of Delaware. Between October and November, Megan distributed 300 car magnets throughout Delaware, from the Iron Hill Science Center to the Ashland Nature Center and multiple public libraries. The magnets were well-received by visitors and picked up quickly at their display centers. Megan continues to promote the project via Instagram and maintains a dedicated project webpage.

Busking for Climate Change: Nashville, TN Ciara Reyes-Ton This project took science communication outdoors and into song, performing original environmental folk music in public spaces across Nashville as a way to spark climate conversations. Ciara’s inaugural event took place on a Christian college campus, where she and collaborators performed live music accompanied by a hand-painted sign created by a student artist, a table of environmental stickers, and signage directing passersby to digital resources. A short film of the event with original music composed and performed by Ciara will be released this year on Earth Day, and additional performances are planned across Nashville as the project continues.

FemBots in the Garden: A Scandalous Summer Evening: Marblehead, MA Lisa Delissio & Linda Ross Girard

This theatrical science communication project brought botany to life through a staged reading of the first seven scenes of The Destroying Eyes of the Botanist, a play developed as part of the FemBot Project. Two public performances were followed by a hands-on botany workshop complete with champagne, making for a memorable evening.

Mask Up Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh, PA

Mask up Pittsburgh maintains freestanding mask distribution boxes in public locations around Pittsburgh to promote public health awareness. One box was removed within 24 hours of placement, prompting the team to evaluate location strategy and seek business sponsors for greater stability. Despite early challenges, the team now restocks boxes frequently to keep up with community demand. In 2026, they plan to seek local business partnerships to support the project's final two installations.

Cooling Off Global Warming: Houston, TXHanan Aro, Morgan Harper, Kailey Jirsa, and Rita Sharp

This team of college students created an eye-catching interactive display called "Keep the Earth Cool" that debuted at the Earth Day Festival at Discovery Green Park in Houston, TX. With a nearby robotics convention drawing additional foot traffic, the team distributed all 132 reusable straws and nearly 250 wildflower seed bombs, as well as copies of a student-created climate zine featuring puzzles and activities for children.

Dreams of a Scientist: California Bridget Vincent & Angelique Allen 

This project distributed cards featuring local scientists and the animals they study. They distributed cards across five bars in the project's initial phase, reaching adults in casual social settings where people rarely encounter science content. The project was a success, piloting a fun and accessible approach to integrating science education into everyday life. A second card is in final development for distribution in Arcata, CA, and a third card with original artwork by Bridget is in early stages for Santa Barbara, CA. 

Local Critters for Local Knitters: Tucson, AZ and Dryden, NYMeredith Willimott

Local Critters for Local Knitters (LCLK) forged an unexpected partnership between entomology and fiber arts, connecting knitters with local ecology through pattern collaborations with independent yarn stores.

Birdhouse Yarns in Tucson, Arizona hosted a series of knit-alongs between June and August teaching conservation information alongside an exclusive pattern that featured four native bees. The yarn for the project was hand-dyed by a local artisan, and featured guest speakers from the University of Arizona.

Meanwhile, PhD candidate Shianne Lindsay ran a parallel LCLK event at her local yarn store, Connected Stitches, in upstate New York. She presented a series of lectures and a unique cowl featuring local bees to an audience of local knitters. 

Dark Skin Pathology Awareness: Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina Alexa Kelly & Ellen Weiss

This project addressed a critical gap in public health awareness of how skin conditions and pathologies present on darker, or melanin-rich, skin tones. They distributed 100 informational pamphlets on this widely underrepresented topic in scientific research and education. This project supported equitable health literacy and awareness by providing free public health materials on this topic directly to community members.

We were thrilled with the diversity and creativity of the projects grantees completed this year. We look forward to repeating this program in 2026! We are currently raising money to support our 2026 grant round. You can support future projects here!

Want to apply for our 2026 mini-grants? Apply here!

I was not originally invited to speak, but heard last minute that someone else had fallen ill and was giving up their slot, and begged white organizers through the grape vine to let me speak as a Salvadoran migrant and union steward who came to the US at age 7.

I have long been soured of going to so many rallies and felt alienated that they were allegedly for or about my people, but that no one had thought people /like/ me exist - we are still here! There are migrants in your work spaces and neighborhoods and organizations, we have stories and labor songs and speeches to share, we are marxists and labor organizers and have reasons to speak out too.

But seldom if ever do you hear our music or faces or voices near the banners. Instead of Tigres Del Norte we heard Bella Ciao, and none of the singers knew the Italian words or bothered to even translate them, so they sang nanananananana, instead of the powerful lyrics that maybe meant something once to someone somewhere. Instead of Somos Más Americanos we heard Don’t Worry, Be Happy.

Instead of a Salvadoran woman who wanted to speak to the American union workers about the Banana workers unions, we heard from a dozen white people about democracy, and justice, and the constitution, and no one was warned about what would happen if they marched down the street from the park to the ICE facility. They fully expected everyone to come back and complete the second half of the rally.

Instead, marchers with their dogs and children were tear-gassed to hell and back the second they dared get close to the facility, maybe at best 1/3rd of the marchers returned while the rest were bottlenecked towards ICE. There was little to no water to treat the untrained protestors. I returned to the rally quickly realizing I could not get caught up at ICE, knowing who I am and what awaits me.

When I got back a chorus of smiling white faces sang a silly song like a Christmas carol with their heads bobbling, reading the lyrics from some handed out papers. White people with upside down flags cheered. Then a black woman in overalls abruptly got on the mic and said “Well thank you everyone but we have to close the program early because people are getting tear-gassed, please get home to safety righty away,” - and I swore I couldn’t believe my ears.

They had brought us all here, marched all these people down to the ICE facility, and expected us all to march back without encountering teargas? And then when some people had made it back they had them sing a little jingle but turned the one migrant away? I begged them to let me speak for the three minutes I had allotted, noting that I had put myself in serious danger to come out here today. That I needed to be heard just this once, and that all the white people had their fair turn to say many unrelated things, and to sing many unrelated songs.

She said, “you don’t understand, there are children down here,” and I had to say “you don’t understand, there are children in the camps.”

And she tried again, “yes but the gas is spreading,” and I said “yes we have been down here being gassed for six months, don’t you understand?”

She blinked twice and told me they just had to break down. I watched from the sidelines as they continued to blare Caribbean Blue and smooth jazz while people filtered out, stood around talking, chatting - finally I said, “please let me speak, you still have speakers going, it’s been 20 minutes,” and the DJ, a white elderly man in a sweater vest who had a strict “only the classics” policy that seems to actually mean “no hip hop and no curse words,” - barked at me that he had to break down and to help him take down his canopy. I am no maid, so I did not listen. He then turned to my comrades and told them to take his canopy down, which they did not. Then turned to his two other labor organizers who were not paying attention, and they took a leg of the canopy and moved it somewhere without breaking it down.

And one looked at me and said quietly, “it’s okay, take that bullhorn no one will notice,” and we took it and ran.

And we ran to a firetruck which I climbed, and I gave the speech, which was in fact more than 3 minutes, sorry not sorry, to a crowd of workers who were slowly pouring out from the ice facility, some stopping, some going, some who heard me, some who didn’t. And I gave it there and it was the only speech most of these people will ever hear from a migrant in all of this, and I think that is tragic. But I firmly believe that had I not given it, had I not climbed the truck, had I not taken the mic, some people would have never heard this story at all. And I think very much you should hear it. And I hope you will share it, if you have the chance. And I hope I get to tell it again, someday, to people who actually listen, to the masses who came to actually support immigrants, and not just to the dredges after they’ve been gassed and are running for shelter while I’m coughing myself.

This is what I had to say.

Olivia: I came to the United States when I was 7 years old. And I became a citizen when I was 20. But I am on this stage to ask: if you will give me 3 minutes of your time, *cough* I will give you 300 years of American History that has been taken from you.

There are five crops that changed the world as we know it. Bananas. Coffee. Tobacco. Sugar. And Cotton.

First grown by slaves in the New World, these crops all happened to also grow in a little bean-shaped country that my parents lived in near the Caribbean called Cuzcatlan, ‘The Land of Precious Things.’ It would be renamed El Salvador in the 1800’s. 

But the precious things remained after the name changed. And the people were captured, and they were forced to work for pennies on the dollar to dredge the precious things from the soil, and the sea, and the mountains, and the sand. Cuzcatlan was not precious just to us, you see. It was coveted by the Americans. And once they saw our jewels, they would never be satisfied again. 

The people suffered. And how we suffered! Dying in the fields, raped by their masters, buried in the shining black volcanic sands, their blood fertilizing the crops.

Of Bananas. Coffee. Sugar. Cotton. And Tobacco.

Until one day, the people of Cuzcatlan said, ‘We can bear it no more.’ And they broke their shovels in half, and they plunged the stems into their masters, and they rode through the streets on their masters’ Spanish horses, and they cried out that Cuzcatlan would no longer belong to the American companies that demanded their precious things without paying precious prices. Perhaps, soon, those business leaders would learn to negotiate for the labor and crops they so needed.

And the Americans? The Americans could not stand it! They would not abide such a story be told. And so you never heard it! The American companies, and all of their corporate masters came down on Cuzcatlan, with a fury seldom seen before. They killed everyone.

Instead, you heard a story about “Communists” and “Terrorists” in Central America, spreading a disease that would destroy your country and families. You heard a story that we have no good will towards you. That we wanted you to starve, that we were lazy, and formed gangs, and were lawless, and wore weapons to sell you drugs and fund terrorism. 

But you never heard the story of Cuzcatlan, because it was a sad story, and sad stories do not sell fruit, and coffee, and cigarettes!

No, they came to my country, and they wiped out entire villages. The Archbishop, Don Remar - er, Don Romero, himself, was shot by the military during his Sunday Mass, for having dared to wonder whether the workers deserved some mercy. Assassinated for having dared to wonder, and he was left bleeding on the pulpit, even as worshippers bowed their heads. 

EVERYBODY was KILLED. 

EVERYBODY! The women, with their children still in their arms. Anyone looking for cover; people who found cover, people who didn’t. People who worked, and people who had no jobs. Communists. Catholics. Those who didn’t know how to read, those who didn’t know what labor rights were. Simple folks. Smart folks. 

And they didn’t stop there. They went through the countryside, and they killed everyone they thought was hiding labor organizers or communists sympathizers. Banana union men and women, who they labeled terrorists. And in one village, we still only speak about in whispers, called “El Mozote.” The Americans tied women and children to trees, and they threw their babies in the air, and they shot them. Everyone was killed, to send one message, and that is: “A union is a threat to the American Empire. Not one union man or woman will hide in your village, or any other. And if you hid one here, now or ever, you will never breathe to hide one again."

And I tell you this because I am you from the future. You and I, all of you, are very much alike. You worked very hard to buy the precious things you have from the ground, the sky, the water, and the aether. You all wrote stories, you filed insurance policies, you taught children, you rung people up, you made sure whatever sorry system they had worked, not because you believed in it, not because you wanted it, but because it was all you could do. 

And in exchange, they offered you cheap bananas. Coffee. Sugar. Tobacco. Bananas.

But I will tell you a secret. They were never cheap. They were precious. And so are you. 

And they stole you, and they stole us, and they stole it all, and they told you: if you look the other way, you get to be satisfied and at least well-fed. But who can afford the luxuries of cigarettes or vapes or groceries anymore? Even that is being taken from you. And even if you have them, your food or your small pleasures won’t satisfy you. Not more than knowing the truth about Cuzcatlan, not more than knowing the truth about El Salvador. Today, where our precious land once stood, they built a concentration camp called CECOT. And not just for our precious things, our people, but yours. Your citizens, your dissenters, your unwanted disappeared into the hole that America built. 

And what will we do when they start building incinerators at the camps? What will you do when they open up mass graves? 

For our people, the most precious gift of all: do not take my warning lightly. The story of Cuzcatlan is not just from the past. It is from the future. The workers face the same enemy, and the enemy never had your interest in mind. From the moment they had you, the plan was to have a worker. From the moment you existed, it was to create another soldier against the people of Cuzcatlan and the rest of the world. You were a commodity to them. 

But we have written you a new future. One in which we no longer point guns at each other. One in which our billionaires fear the land of precious people from learning they are no longer precious things. 

Turn to me now! And tell me you will not forget the last three minutes. You will never again be ignorant of this story. And you will not let it happen here. You will close the camps. You will destroy ICE.

Spectator: Yeah! Olivia: You would rather have seasonal bananas or never see one again than have it covered in blood. 

Spectators: That’s right! Yeah! 

Olivia: You would rather trade fairly with other union workers than kill your fellow man, wouldn’t you? 

Spectators: Yes! Olivia: Tell me you love me, and that our fates are tied! Tell me you’ll stop them from dragging me down from this place, and I’ll never let them do to you what they did to us. I promise. El pueblo unido…

Spectator: JAMÀS SERÀ VENCIDO!

Olivia: Nunca será vencido. Amen.

I know I stuttered a bit, as I had just been gassed, as it took place not but 400 feet maybe from the Portland ICE facility.

One correction among many tiny ones:

“You worked very hard to /ply/ the precious things you have from the ground, the sky, the water, and the aether.” - And that work, it is very precious.

Guinea Bissau has some of the highest rates of HepB on the continent, and infants are the group at the highest risk of contracting HepB, leading to chronic hepatitis & long term hepatic diseases like cirrhosis and liver failure as well as increased chance of liver cancer.

The study can’t be carried out in the US or Denmark because it fails almost every benchmark for medical ethics — surprising absolutely nobody, it is in fact heinously unethical to expose babies to preventable disease that causes liver failure and liver cancer, but the “study” has been green lit in Guinea.

Fuck the US imperial project in Africa, fuck RFK Jr and the US Department of Health, and fuck every single collaborative researcher in Denmark. This is some nightmare Tuskegee Study shit and every single individual involved deserves to be in The Hague.

!! SHOP UPDATE !!

New items are now in stock in my shop! There's a new Tarot Deck I was part of called Umbral Wings, there's new Silksong themed stickers, more Monster Hunter keycharms and also the extras from my Carousel Bugs kickstarter!! Check it all out!

Online Shop (USA + Canada Only)

Etsy Store (Worldwide!)

And as always, please reblog and share! It always helps me out so much!

!! SHOP UPDATE !!

New items are now in stock in my shop! There's a new Tarot Deck I was part of called Umbral Wings, there's new Silksong themed stickers, more Monster Hunter keycharms and also the extras from my Carousel Bugs kickstarter!! Check it all out!

Online Shop (USA + Canada Only)

Etsy Store (Worldwide!)

And as always, please reblog and share! It always helps me out so much!