Plant With Anxiety

Anyone with a name that starts with a “Z”, ends with an “i”, and isn’t some kind of Italian pasta, IS SERIOUS

2021:

2018:

2016:

2012:

2010:

I haven’t pissed people off lately by reminding them that ALL types of physical punishment of kids has been proven beyond ANY reasonable doubt to have only negative long term outcomes.

So let me scream it from the hilltops:

Stop hitting kids. End of sentence.

Some desperate remnant of his soul knows what he needs. As soon as his debt is cleared, he goes on to live what many would call an utterly charmed life: working no more than 20 hours a week, travelling and spending time with friends (which he, at $150,000 a year and no mortgage, has ample money to do). He has a loving relationship also.

But his brain is so rotten that he cannot understand happiness anymore. He is incapable of conceptualising it other than in money.

A man who has everything except the ability to feel it.

How poetic.

Which means that when he says he regrets the months he didn’t pick up more hours to earn more money, what he’s describing here is boredom. He’s doing it in the crassest, shallowest, most income-obsessed and unattainable for most of us way possible, yes. But this man is expressing that once he achieved a certain financial goal he relaxed, enjoyed himself, got bored, realized on some level he was understimulated, and then started working more hours to meet whatever stimulated activity threshold he personally needs. 

This is infuriating because this man experienced the counter-argument to that nonsensical talking point that if we meet people’s financial needs with a universal basic income they’ll grow lazy and won't do anything. 

Anyone trying to develop $200,000 in passive annual income is not working three minimum-wage jobs to live paycheck-to-paycheck. This man’s basic financial needs were met. Working more hours to make more money is just his own personal code for ‘I still needed to use my mind to do things’ (using what might be the only metric of personal achievement he might actually have). This man lived the argument for universal basic income and I genuinely don’t think he realizes that. Once his basic income needs were met he still needed to do things to keep himself stimulated and engaged with his own life.

heres my paypal

For 37 years it’s been up there on the flat roof of Mark Gubin’s building in the flight path of Mitchell International Airport. A sign painted in letters 6 feet tall tells people arriving here by air: “WELCOME TO CLEVELAND.”

“There’s not a real purpose for having this here except madness, which I tend to be pretty good at,” Gubin said

Above that the roof, he was having lunch one day in 1978 with a woman who worked as his assistant. Taking note of all the low-flying planes, she said it would be nice to make a sign welcoming everyone to Milwaukee. “You know what would even be better?” Gubin said.

The next thing you know, he’s out there on the black roof with a roller and white paint creating the sign that would bring more notoriety than anything else in his long career. A story about his confusing message ran in thousands of newspapers and magazines, on national TV news, “The Tonight Show,” Paul Harvey, all over.

(Fact Source)

For those of my followers who might not understand, before fast Muslims will wake in the hours before Fajr (the time of our Subh prayers, the first prayer if the day) to eat, like to prepare yourself to fast the entire day. Sahur means A Lot, especially to kids, because imagine the whole family, sleepy, grumpy and only vaguely aware of your surroundings, nibbling on bread, making hearty carbs and drinking jugs of clear water to make sure we make it through the day alright. Someone falls asleep in their soup. Dad is staring at his coffee like it personally insulted his past. The outside world is quiet. It s peaceful and sentimental. It’s made by the people who love and care about you, and you would be surrounded by people you would grow into being able to carry loving silences with.

At the time premature babies were considered genetically inferior, and were simply left to fend for themselves and ultimately die.

Dr Martin Couney offered desperate parents a pioneering solution that was as expensive as it was experimental - and came up with a very unusual way of covering the costs.

It was Coney Island in the early 1900’s. Beyond the Four-Legged Woman, the sword swallowers, and “Lionel the Lion-Faced Man,” was an entirely different exhibit: rows of tiny, premature human babies living in glass incubators.

The brainchild of this exhibit was Dr. Martin Couney, an enigmatic figure in the history of medicine. Couney created and ran incubator-baby exhibits on the island from 1903 to the early 1940s.

Behind the gaudy facade, premature babies were fighting for their lives, attended by a team of medical professionals.To see them, punters paid 25 cents.The public funding paid for the expensive care, which cost about $15 a day in 1903 (the equivalent of $405 today) per incubator.

Couney was in the lifesaving business, and he took it seriously. The exhibit was immaculate. When new children arrived, dropped off by panicked parents who knew Couney could help them where hospitals could not, they were immediately bathed, rubbed with alcohol and swaddled tight, then “placed in an incubator kept at 96 or so degrees, depending on the patient. Every two hours, those who could suckle were carried upstairs on a tiny elevator and fed by breast by wet nurses who lived in the building. The rest [were fed by] a funneled spoon. The smallest baby Couney handled is reported to have weighed a pound and a half.

His nurses all wore starched white uniforms and the facility was always spotlessly clean.

An early advocate of breast feeding, if he caught his wet nurses smoking or drinking they were sacked on the spot. He even employed a cook to make healthy meals for them.

The incubators themselves were a medical miracle, 40 years ahead of what was being developed in America at that time.

Each incubator was made of steel and glass and stood on legs, about 5ft tall. A water boiler on the outside supplied hot water to a pipe running underneath a bed of mesh, upon which the baby slept.

Race, economic class, and social status were never factors in his decision to treat and Couney never charged the parents for the babies care.The names were always kept anonymous, and in later years the doctor would stage reunions of his “graduates.

According to historian Jeffrey Baker, Couney’s exhibits “offered a standard of technological care not matched in any hospital of the time.”

Throughout his decades of saving babies, Couney understood there were better options. He tried to sell, or even donate, his incubators to hospitals, but they didn’t want them. He even offered all his incubators to the city of New York in 1940, but was turned down.

In a career spanning nearly half a century he claimed to have saved nearly 6,500 babies with a success rate of 85 per cent, according to the Coney Island History

In 1943, Cornell New York Hospital opened the city’s first dedicated premature infant station. As more hospitals began to adopt incubators and his techniques, Couney closed the show at Coney Island. He said his work was done.

Today, one in 10 babies born in the United States is premature, but their chance of survival is vastly improved—thanks to Couney and the carnival babies.

https://nypost.com/2018/07/23/how-fake-docs-carnival-sideshow-brought-baby-incubators-to-main-stage/

Book: The strange case of Dr. Couney

New York Post Photograph: Beth Allen

Original FB post by Liz Watkins Barton

Maiden: Yes. I need your help.

Witch: Unwanted baby?

Maiden: No?

Witch: Want someone dead?

Maiden: What? Of course not.

Witch: That's all I know how to do. What do you need?

Maiden: I'm starting to see why you were shunned from the village.

Witch: Yes, I've killed a lot of people. What do you need?

Maiden: There's a pox in the village.

Witch: It wasn't me this time.

Maiden: I know. Can you fix it or not?

Witch: No. I'm not licensed for that.

Maiden: What do you mean you're not licensed for that?

Witch: I got kicked out of the herbalist's coven.

Maiden: For killing people?

Witch: For killing people.

Maiden: Great, now what do I do? There isn't another witch for at least three towns over.

Witch: And he's an enchanter blacksmith type. Makes protective amulets and beefs up swords. Makes really good horseshoes. Can't fix poxes. Makes a mean rabbit stew though. And...

Maiden: And is very good at sex and hard to kill, yes everyone knows that. You tell us repeatedly. Even though we kicked you out.

Witch: It's important. How are you not dead yet, by the way? You're an adult and you haven't bought anything yet so you should be dead by now.

Maiden: I'm not into people that way. Your weird sex based spells don't work on me. That's why I'm the one that came.

Witch: I would branch out but I'm barred from taking more classes at the guild. Because of the murder.

Maiden: Right, well I'm gonna go before you poison me.

Witch: What about the pox?

Maiden: I do have a mild form of it so you've been exposed too. Someone of your age is much more likely to die from it.

Witch: What?

Enchanter: One second. (throws a sword over his shoulder where it crashes into several metal tools and starts glowing)

Enchanter: Okay, what do you need?

Maiden: There's a pox in my town.

Enchanter: (pulls an amulet out of his pocket and holds it over her head)

Enchanter: You don't seem to have it, but it's touched you.

Maiden: I got better. Can you help?

Enchanter: I enchant swords. Why are you visiting me?

Maiden: Because the only witch in our town is...

Enchanter: Wait, don't tell me. Are you from Ravenfalls?

Maiden: Yeah.

Enchanter: Tabatha. Of course. That quack.

Maiden: She only kills people and does abortions.

Enchanter: Oh no she doesn't do abortions. She just drowns babies. I don't even think she knows what a fetus is.

Maiden: Oh.

Enchanter: Yeah. Terrible cook too. Normally herbalists are pretty good at cooking but she's just...

Maiden: The worst. I know. Do you at least know who can help? All of our elders and babies are dropping off like flies. People are strapping chickens to their arms. It's a mess.

Enchanter: (clicks tongue a few times) The nearest guy that specializes in pox is in the mountains. Not the coast range but the big angry looking pointy ones to the east. What were those called again?

Maiden: The Death Mountains?

Enchanter: Yeah, those. Unfortunate name, really. They're almost tolerable in the spring and summer. Don't know why they live there though.

Maiden: Can you teleport me there?

Enchanter: Why do people always ask that? Look I don't know what you've been hearing from Tabatha or traveling merchants but that's not safe for living creatures.

Maiden: Then what do I do? By the time I get back half the population will either be dead or still have birds strapped to their arms.

Enchanter: I hate to suggest this but you could like... with a shapeshifting dragon? And then ask for a wish?

Maiden: I'm not into people or dragons that way.

Herbalist: Come a very long way to see me. I know.

Maiden: How did you...

Herbalist: Everyone says that. Come sit. Do you like tea?

Maiden: I don't have time for tea. My village has a pox.

Herbalist: Which pox?

Maiden: It's mostly affecting older people and it's... purple.

Herbalist: Oh. What shade of purple?

Maiden: Very bright.

Herbalist: Oh, that's not a pox. That's a curse. Or a curse mixed with a usually just annoying pox. Someone in your area has probably pissed someone off.

Maiden: I'm from Ravenfalls.

Herbalist: In that case I think we can both guess who brought forth someone's ire. Who created it though, still remains a mystery. In any case, you can buy this bag of weeds and instruct people to boil them in small batches and inhale the steam. It won't cure anything, but it will most likely help people breathe better, which may help them survive long enough to fight it off.

Maiden: What do I do about Tabatha and the people strapping chickens to their arms?

Herbalist: My dear, some things can't be fixed completely. Plant this all over your town though and Tabatha will most likely avoid you. You can have these for free.

Maiden: I'm not going to bring some magic plant into town unless I know what it is.

Herbalist: Oh, it's not very magic. It's a cedar tree I've enchanted to grow very quickly. She's deathly allergic to cedar wood and pollen.

Maiden: Oh.

Herbalist: I really can't do anything for the chickens though. People will do strange things when they're desperate.

Maiden: Will I ever know who cursed us?

Herbalist: You may or may not. Wile you're here though, would you care to buy a love potion?

Maiden: I'm not into people that way.

Herbalist: You wouldn't fit in at the witches guild then. That's why most of us go in. It's a very good profession for swingers.

Maiden: That's why I went into city government. Well, thank you for all that.

Herbalist: And thank you for visiting. Tell the enchanter that I said hi and tell Tabatha to take a hike for me.

Maiden: Enchanter? What are you doing here?

Enchanter: My name is John.

Maiden: It feels weird to call you that. You're the magic blacksmith I met on my quest.

Enchanter: I understand. So do you know who I'd talk to about renting a lot here?

Maiden: For what purpose? Oh, right. Me. Talk to me about it. I manage Lord Raven's lots and do logging and hunting permits and collect rent and whatnot

Enchanter: I want to set up my shop here. Business is better here for weapons and ever since she moved out, well...

Maiden: Was she after you?

Enchanter: She was under the impression that we were still married.

Maiden: Yes, she definitely was. Well, I think I can set you up. The village will benefit from having a reputable witch nearby. I'll get you in contact with a carpenter and scout out a spot for you.

Enchanter: Wait, I have something for you.

Maiden: An amulet?

Enchanter: For keeping away unwanted romantic advances.

Maiden: (covers her mouth and starts crying just a little bit)

Maiden: Sir, I can't...

Enchanter: You drove away a person that made my life a living hell for years. You saved your town. You drove out a murderer. You went into the Death Mountains in the middle of the winter. Take it.

Maiden: (takes it) John, did I ever tell you when we met that I desperately wanted to become friends with you?

Enchanter: No, but once I'm moved in I think we can give it a try.