Meet Maude, 88-year-young career magician’s girl of 73 years.
The Python’s name is Petey and he’s a fat spoiled baby. The flustered young woman is Pearle, who inherited Maude’s contract from her (Pearle’s) father.
Open a bank account or get a credit card without signed permission from her father or hr husband.
Serve on a jury - because it might inconvenience the family not to have the woman at home being her husband’s helpmate.
Obtain any form of birth control without her husband’s permission. You had to be married, and your hub and had to agree to postpone having children.
Get an Ivy League education.
Ivy League schools were men’s colleges ntil the 70′s and 80′s. When
they opened their doors to women it was agree that women went there for
their MRS. Degee.
Experience equality in the workplace: Kennedy’s
Commission on the Status of Women produced a report in 1963 that
revealed, among other things, that women earned 59 cents for every
dollar that men earned and were kept out of the more lucrative
professional positions.
Keep her job if she was pregnant.Until the Pregnancy Discrimination Act in 1978, women were regularly fired from their workplace for being pregnant.
Refuse to have sex with her husband.The mid 70s saw most states recognize marital rape and in 1993 it became criminalized
in all 50 states. Nevertheless, marital rape is still often treated
differently to other forms of rape in some states even today.
Get a divorce with some degree of ease.Before the No Fault Divorce
law in 1969, spouses had to show the faults of the other party, such as
adultery, and could easily be overturned by recrimination.
Have a legal abortion in most states.The Roe v. Wade case in 1973 protected a woman’s right to abortion until viability.
Play college sports
Title IX of the Education
Amendments of protects people from discrimination based
on sex in education programs or activities that receive Federal
financial assistance
It was nt until this statute that colleges had teams for women’s sports
Apply for men’s Jobs
The EEOC rules that
sex-segregated help wanted ads in newspapers are illegal. This ruling
is upheld in 1973 by the Supreme Court, opening the way for women to
apply for higher-paying jobs hitherto open only to men.
This is why we needed feminism - this is why we know that feminism works
I just want to reiterate this stuff, because I legit get the feeling there are a lot of younger women for whom it hasn’t really sunk in what it is today’s GOP is actively trying to return to.
Did you go to a good college? Shame on you, you took a college placement that could have gone to a man who deserves and needs it to support or prepare for his wife & children. But if you really must attend college, well, some men like that, you can still get married if you focus on finding the right man.
Got a job? Why? A man could be doing that job. You should be at home caring for a family. You shouldn’t be taking that job away from a man who needs it (see college, above). You definitely don’t have a career – you’ll be pregnant and raising children soon, so no need to worry about promoting you.
This shit was within living memory.
I’M A MILLENIAL and my mother was in the second class that allowed women at an Ivy League school.
Men who are alive today either personally remember shit like this or have parents/family who have raised them into thinking this was the way America functioned back in the blissful Good Old Days. There are literally dudes in the GOP old enough to remember when it was like this and yearn for those days to return.
When people talk about resisting conservativism and the GOP, we’re not just talking about whether the wage gap is a myth or not. We’re talking about whether women even have the fundamental right to exist as individuals, to run their own households and compete for jobs and be considered on an equal footing with men in any arena at all in the first place.
do straighties ever consider that the reason their one single gay or trans friend agrees w them on smth is because that friend is terrified of standing up to them like im just wondering does this thought not occur to them or
“Ahh, detective, I see you have fallen for my trap. It’s a pity it had to end this way. I knew you would taste that mysterious white powder you found at the crime scene to confirm its identity. I understand… you were trying to look cool in front of your partner. You must have realized by now that I simply laced table sugar with an incredibly powerful neurotoxin. As you die, consider this a victory for responsible investigation, and an educational moment for your young partner. She will not make your mistake and will use appropriate methods and tools to identify unknown substances, not her goddamn tongue, you fool.”
Special Agent Fox Mulder, his mouth stuffed full of crimes: wait what
I wish I could have photographed this in progress.
So in our section of our office building we have a communal whiteboard. A few weeks ago, I was walking by it and saw that someone had drawn a little boy’s face on it.
A week later, someone added a neck and a green shirt.
A few days later, someone added blue shorts.
Today, I saw this:
I’m…kind of worried what the feet will be. But I’m also VERY curious.
Some people have to realize even if you change and become a better person after being so shitty to someone that person is not obligated to stick around or fuck with you regardless of the growth you made.
Do you ever read a piece of writing advice so awful you’re not entirely sure if it’s satire or not.
If your character is an evil assassin, you might want to refer to his fingernails as daggers or stabbers.
Stabbers. Stabbers. Yep.
A jealous ex-girlfriend might have witch hooks or tentacles. Sugar- or flour-coated hands could be clues that a protagonist is a baker. Or a serial killer with a fetish.
Well this has taken an odd turn.
Use ‘hands’ too often, and the word will annoy readers. English offers a multitude of options.
Oh no.
Analyze what the hands are doing and assign a noun that suits them. In addition to the following, check the Movement section for verbs you could convert into nouns. For example, ‘boo-boo soothers’.
Get the fuck out of here.
prestidigitators
No.
shadow puppeteers
???
stranglers
WHY DOES IT KEEP COMING BACK TO MURDER
See also 300+ Words to Describe Human Skin.
I lay awake some night thinking about this.
I am literally crying I’m laughing so hard.
It’s like a guide to crime blogging written by Sherlock when he’s really pissed off about John’s last post.
Duh. I mean, the boyfriend is OBVIOUSLY the bright, burning center of his cat's life, and Super ButtButt CLEARLY adores me. I mean, she hasn't eaten me yet.
I love my cats and my cats love me and now science has finally validated our love.
you know it’s so confusing to apply for disability benefits because like firstly you’re disabled and stuff is more difficult for you usually, secondly the wording is confusing and its easy to fuck up your application or file for the wrong thing.
i didn’t actually properly fill out my forms to apply for SSI until my caseworker did it for me. I was rejected when i filed for it by myself, like … I really needed help to get it because when youre disabled its just too much work to go into so much detail to explain how bad everything really is.
and its horrible that everyone applying for disability doesnt have a caseworker or someone that cares to really help them through the process.
Just because someone can’t get approved for government disability money doesnt mean they arent disabled, it could actually mean theyre far too disabled to file it on their own.
The government isn’t the authority on who is or isnt disabled. They are in charge of who they pick and choose to help out. The strict rules on who does and doesnt get disability money from the government murders disabled people.
yall so much more concerned with these mystical fakers that you’d rather thousands of disabled people to die just so one person doesnt “cheat the system.”
when i filled out the last batch of disability paperwork, they had a section for “other medical problems” or w/e, so i put down depression and asthma bc like, hey, i got those
when they rejected me they rejected me on the basis of my asthma and depression not being bad enough, even though i wasn’t fucking filing the disability for fucking asthma and depression
i feel like they didn’t even read the rest of my shit and just selected those two things lmao
I have to be rejected from getting disability three times to get help from the local law firm to get it.
I can’t even find the spoons and mental energy to fill out and get rejected once.
Thousands upon thousands of words can—and have—been written about what a total disaster of infighting and backstabbing the Trump White House has become, but this detail from Politico’s Alex Isenstadt may tell you everything you need to know about how bad it is:
At the highest levels of the West Wing, the mood has grown so tense that staffers have begun calling up reporters inquiring whether other senior aides are leaking damaging information about them.
It’s like junior high school, only instead of whispering by the lockers about one another’s acne and who has a crush on whom they’re calling reporters and asking who said the epic Trumpcare failure was their fault or that Donald Trump was angry that they failed in his latest loyalty test. Also, the stakes here are just a little bit higher.
Sure, they’ve got plenty of failures to be upset about and to point fingers over, but the Trump team was a festival of backstabbing from early in the transition. When people are too busy jockeying for position and trying to do in their enemies, it gets harder to focus on policy. (Especially when you were ignorant and incompetent to begin with.) And no surprise here:
The environment, many Trump aides are convinced, has been created by the president himself — a larger-than-life figure famously loath to admit error. As Trump’s health care plan ran into problems, he found ways to divert blame — sometimes turning on his own staff.
Tell me another one about how we need a businessman running government ...
What’s a “half-mourning” dress? Mourning in the front, party in the back?
Half-Mourning was the third stage of mourning for a widow. She would be expected to mourn her husband for at least two years, the stages being Full Mourning, Second Mourning and Half-Mourning. The different stages regulated what they would be wearing, with Full Mourning being all black and with no ornamentation, including the wodow’s veil, and the stages after that introducing some jewellery and modest ornamentation. When in Half-Mourning you would gradually include fabrics in other colors and sort of ease your way out of mourning.
Wow, I am happy you made that joke so I could interpert it as a serious question and have an excuse to ramble on about clothing customs of the past, I am a historical fashion nerd.
That’s very informative, but I’m going to stick with my original head canon:
I love both the informed fashion history and the hilariously off-the-wall halves of this post.
So not only is this not news, it isn’t true. It’s easily proved as untrue. This is what state-sponsored propaganda looks like. This is entering Kim Jong Un territory.
“Twitter announced updates earlier this month to help reduce abusive content, by being more proactive in identifying those who use Twitter to harass others. The company explained the recent updates in a blog post that made clear how it could intervene earlier when it sees abuse.
“We’re working to identify accounts as they’re engaging in abusive behavior, even if this behavior hasn’t been reported to us. Then, we’re taking action by limiting certain account functionality for a set amount of time, such as allowing only their followers to see their Tweets,” the company explained in the post. “For example, this change could come into effect if an account is repeatedly Tweeting without solicitation at non-followers or engaging in patterns of abusive behavior that is in violation of the Twitter Rules.”
At IBM InterConnect, Moody discussed where Twitter goes next in fighting abuse. “We’re starting just now to partner with the Watson team. Watson is really good at understanding nuances in language and intention,” he said. “What we want to do is be able to identify abuse patterns early and stop this behavior before it starts.”
So, instead of studying for my impending pathophysiology exam, I was thinking about what a goddamn badass Leonard McCoy is.
Actually, I was thinking about drug shortages. I am a resident in the United States. The United States of America. First world medicine, folks. And sometimes - all too frequently - I have to revise the treatment plan of a healthy patient undergoing elective surgery because I do not have access to the ideal drug.
In other words, I compromise.
That’s a sickening feeling, friends.
Which brings me back to Bones.
Bones, Chief Medical Officer on a five year mission in deep space, where no man has gone before. Bones, who cares so goddamn deeply. Bones, desperately filing requisition forms for medications that he has no hope of receiving in the foreseeable future. Bones, elbow deep in a unfortunate ensign that caught the wrong end of a blast in engineering, sweat dripping in his eyes, nagging thoughts of, “is his name Jason or Joseph?” Bones, mad as hell because medical takes another budget cut. Bones praying frantically to a god he doesn’t believe in, “oh, please, not again.” Bones, eyeballing a unknown species and making a quick judgment call, based on a hasty heart rate calculation and estimated weight, the effective loading dose of a - probably - renal toxic drug. Bones, hissing at Spock to shut the hell up, all the while making his own calculations. Bones, who years after the mission has ended, bolts up out of a dead sleep in a panic of adrenaline, because endless nights of call have made gentle awakenings impossible. Bones, staring dumbstruck at Starfleet Medical’s supply rooms. Bones, dedicatedly carting his tiny medkit on his hip, facing an alien world with a tricorder and a few hypos. Bones, hiding in his quarters for days, pouring over all of the federation’s published xenophysiology records, searching for a connection, wondering where it went wrong. Bones replaying the day’s scene in his mind, fear still gripping his chest as Jim sleeps peacefully in the biobed. Bones alone in the field, performing a bilateral finger thoracostomy on a blue-lipped yeoman who reminds him a little too much of Joanna (if somebody does not write this fic, I will). Bones, fresh out of med school, feverently murmuring his oath with conviction and wide-eyed naivety. Bones blaming himself. Bones bitching about the unpredictability of genetically modified antimicrobials. Bones needing a goddamn drink. Bones, contemplating the nuances of therapeutic nihilism. Bones, forcing himself to meet Jim’s eyes as Jim officiates a funeral. Bones, calculating pharmacokinetics in his head. Bones, knowing there was nothing to be done, but dammit, what if? Bones, painstakingly documenting his every discovery, every treatment plan, every failure and every triumph, for the next generation of medical professionals. Bones in his office with his head in his hands. Bones, absolutely giddy and shaking with relief, “Don’t be so melodramatic; you were barely dead.”
Practicing medicine is terrifying. Every day, I am horrified at the thought that I will not be able to provide for my patients. I love my field with every breath in my body, but the responsibility is overwhelming, and sobering.
Disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence, indeed.
“By golly, Jim, I’m beginning to think I can cure a rainy day.”
D'ya get the feeling that most of the leaders in the rest of the world are just humoring us long enough for us to impeach this moron, and leverage the whole administration out of the white house?
God, poor Angela Merkel. In addition to having to endure a prolonged visit with a bloviating chicken wing last weekend, that chicken wing also had the gall to hand her an invoice for $374 billion, the sum that Germany reportedly “owes NATO,” plus interest. Well isn’t this mortifying.
I'm just picturing the security guard at the aquarium once they switch up the patrols accosting the marauding octopus and talking him back into his own tank. "Now George, we talked about this." *squelch* "George, you gotta leave the other fishies alone.This a safe space for everyone, George." *squish* "If you want, I can talk to the docs about switching up your diet. But you can't eat the others, George." *splish* "Because that's how it works"
I had a biology teacher that told us this story about an octopus at an aquarium in Australia. The staff were concerned because their population of crustaceans kept disappearing. No bodies or anything. So they checked the video feed to find out what’s up.
Across from the the crustacean tank was a small octopus tank. This little fucker squeezed out of a tiny hole at the top of his tank, walk across the hall, and get into the crustacean tank. He would then hunt and eat. After he was done, he crawled back out and get back in his tank
Here’s the kicker: security guards patrolled the area. The staff realized that the octopus had memorized the security’s routine. It would escape and be back between the guards’ round.
My friend who worked at Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha, Nebraska had a similar story. Rare fish were disappearing, they suspected theft, and so set up a camera. An octopus was unlocking the top of its tank, walking across the suspended walkway, unlocking the other tank, eating his fill, re-locking the other tank, then re-locking its own tank.
I can’t remember what zoo this happened at, but there was another octopus somewhere who was unscrewing a water valve in the room where its tank was located and routinely flooding the place. The staffers had no idea what it was until they filmed the octopus caught in the act.
RELEASE THE KRAKEN!! But, sir, it has already released itself!
My dad worked in a lab and one of the rooms had a tank with an octopus in it. If they didn’t go play with the octopus he got bored and would climb out of his tank and steal the paperwork off the desks, and drag stuff into his tank to let the scientists know he was upset with them.
Octopus urban legends.
Davy Jones is the real deal
The last time I saw this post there was a story of an octopus that got a rotten fish in its dinner and got out its tank and down the hall and threw the rotted fish on someone’s desk. I think it was this post, anyways. This is the tl;dr version lol
Will forever reblog this because octopus
Everyone grab your chainsaws. The octopus revolution is at hand. Seriously, some of these octopi are smarter than me. And that’s- Not really saying much. A toddler is probably smarter than me.
Honestly, if not for the fact that they are very short-lived, I think octopuses would be on par with humans
Self-taught makeup artist and body painter Alexys Fleming, aka Madeyewlook (previously featured here), took a break from transforming herself using cosmetics and bodypaint and instead completely covered her face and upper torso in googly eyes. We we think she looks awesome!
But how Fleming looks wearing googly eyes is only half the fun. Watch this tutorial video to also experience what she *sounds* like while wearing all those rattling googly eyes:
