Oh, it is on, my friends! Mashable is reporting that German company Katjes has invented a 3D printer capable of printing for-real gummy candies, and as far as I'm concerned, my Trekkie-nerd fantasy of installing a food replicator unit in my kitchen is well on its way to becoming reality.
me: *sees a smooth/round rock*
brain: you gotta
The Dark Lord will require a new host soon.
This is how you know money can buy anything. Do you know how unlikely it is to get one heart, yet alone a second one?
^If transplants are based on need and nothing else (not money) what are the chances that 5 hearts were available…especially for someone who has a history of the transplants failing?
Got them new world order doctors
Is this not the same man?!?!?!
Iqbal Masih was four years old when his father sold him into slavery. He was forced to work more than twelve hours a day. He was constantly beaten, verbally abused, and chained to his loom by the carpet factory owner, before escaping at 10.
There’s also an organization called Free the Children that was started by a 12 year old named Craig Kielburger back in 1995, when he found out about Iqbal’s murder and started fighting for the same things he did.
Yes!!! Iqbal was amazing and the organization is amazing!!
The book about Iqbal is amazing
Death at Nicolau Juncosa’s tomb, 1914
Montjuïc Cemetery, Barcelona
Dawwwww, little bat burritos....
Why does this Hostess Zinger look exactly like Donald Trump
A friend of mine shared this on Facebook, and I shared it too. But seeing as I have a lot more followers on tumblr than friends on Facebook, I thought I’d bring it here.
Will’s post really talked to my heart, because it’s exactly what it’s like to live in a gentrified neighborhood. Sure, my wall didn’t get painted on, but the feelings of entitlement that are held over you are universal. It’s very frustrating when people have been living in your neighborhood for less than 3 years and they act like you’re the new ones.
And let’s not even get into the comment section of this post! You cannot compare gentrification, which systemically kicks poor people (who are usually poc) out of their neighborhoods to “white flight”.
I’ll probably be reporting the bushwick flea’s Instagram if you need me, but please share his story.
A couple of weeks ago, my friend Zoë and I were chatting about our families, and I told her about how much my grandmother, who partially raised me, meant to me. My friend said : “Oh! It’s like that story I read on internet, ‘Patterns’! Have you seen it?” I blushed. I actually wrote it for myself and did crappy drawings for it ages ago, but then it became my most known story, even though I didn’t really want people to see it.
So I finally made a new version of it. Enjoy!
“1 in 3 urban youth display the symptoms of mild to severe PTSD. And when you compare that data to the military data what you find is urban youth are actually twice as likely as soldiers returning from Iraq to get PTSD.”
This presentation is crucial to educators interested in the future and empowerment of inner-city youth of color. View the entire video here.
Much better than those filthy pigeoness...
Mmmmm, chocolate milkshakes...
Over the past 2½ months, Eric has generated 10.6 pounds of poop over 29 visits. [...] To donate, Eric had to pass a 109-point clinical assessment. There is a laundry list of factors that would disqualify a donor: obesity, illicit drug use, antibiotic use, travel to regions with high risk of contracting diseases, even recent tattoos. His stools and blood also had to clear a battery of laboratory screenings to make sure he didn't have any infections.
After all that screening, only 3% of prospective donors are healthy enough to give. "I had no idea," he says about his poop. "It turns out that it's fairly close to perfect."
And that, unlike most people's poop, makes Eric's worth money. OpenBiome pays its 22 active donors $40 per sample. They're encouraged to donate often, every day if they can. Eric has earned about $1,000. [...]
The perfect poop is type three, which is "like a sausage but with cracks on its surface;" type four, which is "like a sausage or snake, smooth and soft;" or type five, "soft blobs with clear-cut edges (passed easily)." [...]
With a pipette, Kim transfers the watery remnants of Eric's poop into 250 ml plastic bottles. On average, one stool donation fills four, but today Eric's impressive half-pound sample fills seven. One bottle equals one treatment. [...]
Cool air blasts his face as Kim opens the freezer. His jaw drops at the sight of his icy brown bottles, which look like frozen chocolate milkshakes. The bacteria inside them is still alive, cryogenically preserved at -112°F.
What a double standard
Thanks for pointing this out. Is there a group of conservatives who are anti-Christian? It does seem that way.
Source? This would certainly change my mind on the whole Davis case if this were true
Sounds like both of them should be arrested tbh
Judges are allowed the freedom to not marry anyone they want. Thus making this not illegal.
There is a huge difference, the judge is not preventing anyone from getting married. In fact, literally anyone can officiate a wedding. Literally, just go online and you can perform a wedding that will be legal. No one can go online and get a marriage license. Davis is preventing people from getting something that it is her job to provide and she was preventing the people in her office from performing their duties as well.
Conservatives are desperate to evade this.
Cherry Picking at it’s finest. From 2012, “ Dallas County Judge Tonya Parker says she won’t perform marriage ceremonies until gay couples can wed.”. If Kim Davis was protesting the loss of marriage rights for Hetereo Couples, then this would be a valid comparison. As it is, this is Apples and Oranges, a Judge 3 years ago stood up FOR equal rights vs a clerk refusing equal rights.
Ya’ll so desperate to be persecuted.
Judge Parker was not denying couples marriage licenses. She was opting to not officiate their weddings (which is NOT an official obligation of her job)
That is a huge fucking difference. Kim Davis was refusing to do an integral part of her job and preventing her staff from performing that integral part of their jobs as well to further her religious beliefs and bigotry.
Straight people want to martyr this bigot so damn badly.
Crows are scary
- use tools
- Can be taught to speak (like parrots)
- Have huge brains for birds
- like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
- They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
- they are scary smart at solving puzzles
- some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies
- they can remember faces
- SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT. They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows. Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag. But the nice guys with masks they left alone. THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight. THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
- They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.
Guys I’m really scared of crows now.
Yeah but have you seen this
YEAH! THEY ALSO PLAY FOR NO EVIDENT REASON OTHER THAN FUN AND THEY LOVE THE SNOW!
Crows are seriously the coolest birbs ever.
I WANT ONE!
A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.
Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill
I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.
Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.
That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him.
Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree.
That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick.
Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.
that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful.
George Takei educating the ignorant