always chill your cookie dough if you want still chewy/soft cookies after a few days (or if you’re shipping them).
keep’s the bastards from spreading out too quickly in the oven and therefor keeps them nice and soft in the middle while keeping them from suffering from that underdone soggy thing that some times happens.
This site is super informative, and it’s actually one of the sites I consulted when I was concocting the Fuck It Brownies recipe – just tons of good info.
That said…the person doing the testing/eating often has a very specific kind of outcome they want, and it is almost never the outcome I want, which I find kind of hilarious. It’s very much a sense of “thank you for testing and rejecting several recipes, I will take reject #2 because we want drastically different things out of a muffin.”
Yes, she should be using the crank on the other side of the well to draw up water, but I liked the visual of her letting the rope go. ↩
This point was part of the Communist Russia version – choosing the suitor is an important part of traditional Armenian culture. Communist Russia was more egalitarian in its attitude towards women, it would seem. ↩
Nazar is the name given to him in one version – in the other, it’s Vaginak. That name caused giggling in too many of my friends, so I stuck with Nazar. ↩
This “yay proletariat”-ism also comes from the Russia version. ↩
The original gag for Petros was him saying, “I don’t get it, why is Tyler Durden the bad guy?” but it seemed too dated a reference (and too many people saw the movie instead of read the book). ↩
Armenians are quite serious about their clothing, and weaving is a big part of that. ↩
No version explained why she encouraged him to go check out the kingdom, apart from him generally seeming disconnected from the common man. ↩
The Russian version has a very long scene where he comes to a temple, and the priest is built up as this super cool guy who wouldn’t hurt a flea – people lay out bricks for him to step on so he wouldn’t touch the ground, that sort of thing. He then promises the incognito king a job, and traps him in a dungeon. ↩
In the other version, she and the horse break down a wall hiding the cave dungeon, but I liked the visual of her busting down the door much better. ↩
That’s legit how the story ends. I think it’s sweet. ↩
The picture-perfect portfolio of Greek photographer George Digalakis is simultaneously rooted in the natural world and subtly surreal. His photographs are shrouded in palpable stillness and mysterious melancholy. They prompt viewers to get lost in the scene and tap into their slumbering subconscious.
With a preference for landscapes and a penchant for minimalism, he skillfully and gracefully captures the understated beauty of nature. Exquisitely dreamy shots of lone trees, misty horizons, and deserted dwellings convey the artist’s uncanny ability to transform ordinary scenes and surroundings into moody masterpieces. Digalakis often utilizes the presence of natural elements (like water) to heighten the innate appeal of these environments. “Water, an element he deeply loves,” his bio states, “can be found in most of his works, but never as their central theme. Rather, he uses the water and the sky as a canvas on which he places his subjects.”
In addition to his love of lonely landscapes and atmospheric environments, Digalakis also consistently conveys his underlying emotions and artistic vision through his overall approach to the craft. He shoots solely in black and white, and often opts for a classically square composition to maintain a minimalist aesthetic.
The photographer is also a fan of employing long exposure techniques. This is a creative tactic to “move the images further away from reality.” He even views the time-consuming technique as a vital aspect of his practice, as it gives him time to “not only explore the environment, but also to feel the scene and visualize the final image.” Together, his eye for composition, his meticulous, technical approach, and his admirable appreciation for the process culminate in an expressive yet enigmatic body of work.
Scroll down to explore George Digalakis’ beautiful collection of surreal nature photography.
I love thriftstore/dollar store costume craftiness best of all.
Throughout Japan, there are one hundred yen shops, which are the equivalent of dollar stores in the US. On Twitter, Japanese cosplayers are showing props and gear they’ve made with cheap items they’ve at these discount shops.
On March 11, 2011, a powerful tsunami triggered by the Tohoku Earthquake swept away Onagawa Station and the train tracks on the Ishinomaki Line. Six years later, the new station is a symbol of pride for local citizens.
The new Onagawa Station opened in 2015 and was built on elevated land roughly 150 m (500 ft) inland from where it previously stood closer to the water. The 3-story structure was designed by architect Shigeru Ban, who also contributed his designs to temporary housing structures nearby in the wake of the tsunami.
sustainable materials like paper tubes and wood were heavily incorporated into the station
Prior to the earthquake there was a public hot spring situated next to the train station. It was a beloved spot where locals would come to bathe, eat dinner nearby, and then come back for one more soak before returning home to sleep. Ban incorporated this bathhouse into the design for the station, allowing for the entire 2nd floor to be dedicated to the hot spring. Now, you can visit Onagawa Yupo’po as soon as you get off the train.
Hiroshi Senju’s ceramic tile murals
But to create something extra special for the locals, who lost so much in 2011, Ban invited artist Hiroshi Senju to contribute artwork to the bath tiles and Senju agreed to take on the job pro-bono. Japanese public baths typically feature murals of Mt. Fuji so visitors can look at the mountain while relaxing in the hot spring. So Senju painted Mt. Fuji in his own style, and also over trees and deer to accompany the men and women’s bathing areas.
over 900 flowers submitted from people around Japan decorate Hiroshi Senju’s “Family Tree”
In the lobby is a large piece called “Family Tree.” Also painted by Senju, it features over 900 different flowers that were sent in as submissions from around the country. Once the artwork was complete, it was then transferred onto ceramic tiles by Lixil.
Onagawa Yupo’po is open from 9:00 AM – 9:00 PM and is closed on the 3rd Wednesday of each month. Entry is 500 yen for adults and 300 yen for children.
“I read the books and I really, really wanted to play the part. I started kundalini yoga, kickboxing and running, and completely changed my diet. I felt I wanted to undergo what was necessary for the part. I love a challenge. And I love defying limitation, gender stereotypes and people’s expectations of me as an actress.” - Gwendoline Christie for NET-A-PORTER, November 2014 (x)
Oo! Such a simple idea, I'm surprised it hasn't been a thing before now. Looks really cool!
It’s common in origami for the folding paper to have traditional Japanese patterns printed on them. But when they’re carved in with a laser-cutter, it adds a whole new dynamic to paper cranes, or any other creation you’re looking to fold.
Origami has been around for centuries. And while relatively newer, laser cutters aren’t exactly cutting-edge technology either. So Japanese product design firm Backstreet Factory probably weren’t the first ones to come up with the idea to combine the two. But they are the first to figure out how to produce laser-cut origami at a reasonable cost, and bring it to market at a price that actually makes sense.
Although drastically more expensive than regular origami, “Chiyokirigami” offers a fun, challenging and beautiful alternative for those who want to take their paper-folding craft to the next level. A set of 3 laser-cut pieces of paper cost 972 yen and are available in 9 different varieties of Japanese traditional motifs from the wave-inspired seigaiha to the tortoise shell-inspired kikkou.
-You see a funny post. After you read it, you move your cursor to the like button. It is already red. You have never seen that post before.
-Your dash is filled with strangers. Maybe you knew them once, but you cannot remember that time.
-Someone has sent you a message. “I would appreciate it if you would go to my page and try out my game!” You block them and delete the message. A few minutes later, you have a new message.
-There is a new update. There is a new update. There is a new update. Everything looks the same. The users are outraged.
-You complain to your friends about how much you hate Tumblr. “Why do you still use it, then?” You start to sweat. You’ve already said too much.
-You scroll through your dashboard. Your eyes glaze over. You no longer see the posts. You keep scrolling.
The reason I like reading a book in one day is because I love watching people look at the size of the book in pure horror and then back at me like I just became terrifying in their eyes
I had a guy in highschool look at me one day and go, “why do you have a different book every other day? Why not just read one??” I just kind of paused and said, “they’re different because I read them and get a new one?” And he made this face
these are the moments i live for
THE SECURITY GUARD AT MY JOB IS ACTUALLY SCARED OF ME BECAUSE I HAVE A DIFFERENT BOOK WITH ME EVERYDAY. HE SAYS ITS NOT NATURAL. HAHAHA GOOD
the second day after my ship’s change of command ceremony, i see the new cap come around the corner so i call attention on deck and everyone freezes and clears the way.
he walks past me and i’m about to relax but then he, stops, backs up and looks me up and down. i’m sweating bullets because we knew nothing about what kind of a cap was he going to be like was my shirt untucked or something oh god what did i do now???
and he just goes “where’s your book?”
and i blink because i am a third class petty officer but a captain is still kind of terrifying and he’s new and I DON’T KNOW WHAT BOOK HE IS TALKING ABOUT is he a stickler do i need to have a copy of the bluejacket’s manual on me at all times or what?
so i screw up my courage and ask him, “my book, sir?”
and he checks my name patch again and says, “you’re petty officer xxxx, you always have a book. where is your book? are you okay?”
like
cap has been onboard for less than 24 hours HOW DOES HE KNOW THIS?
(i mean, he’s not wrong, i got a lot of shit from other senior personnel about the pocket on my uniform being stretched out because it always had a book in it.)
but i have an answer and he’s the new cap, so i give it: “i finished my last one and haven’t had a chance to get to my bunk and grab a new one.”
and his eyes bug out
shit
i broke the new captain goddammit LT is gonna kill me
and he goes “BUT YOU JUST STARTED THAT ONE YESTERDAY!”
and i’m just staring back now like HOW DOES HE KNOW THIS OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK OUR NEW CAP IS PSYCHIC OR SOME SHIT
and because my brain has broken under the stress of this encounter i ask him
and he’s like “i saw you on the mess decks on my tour with [old cap] and you were on like page ten that book is like 400 pages how did you read it in one day?”
and i’m like SHIT he’s gonna be pissed because he thinks i was slacking because i read a bigass book in one day fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK
like this was not the first time i’d gotten in trouble for reading when i was on watch or whatever but i had maintenance watches i’m literally waiting for something to break and my chief didn’t mind
BUT THIS IS THE CAP IF HE MINDS CHIEF’S OPINION ISN’T WORTH A FISH FART IN THE OCEAN
and so i stammer, “i read a lot? so… i… i read fast?”
and he just stares and i don’t know what the expression on his face means
before i can process this though and come up with a new response, he’s grabbing my shoulder and turning me and pushing me ahead of him where little baby petty officers do not walk because CAPTAIN GOES FIRST
and i’m like “welp this is how i end up in the brig i get to be the new cap’s first captain’s mast it was nice knowing everyone”
idk that or he’s gonna throw me over the side honestly who knows my whole world was upside down at this point
and then he starts talking
he’s like “go get a new book what are you reading next did you like your last book tell your chief i sent you if he asks why you were gone what is your favorite genre and author have you ever read” and basically escorts me to my berthing grilling me about books and everywhere we go people are staring and oh god i’m going to die i am just going to die of shame and horror and this is it this is what takes me out does this count as dying for my country i don’t even know
and that’s how we learned that our new cap was married to a librarian and an avid reader and was not going to have an illiterate crew, dammit.
i never caught shit for having a book in my back pocket or reading on watch again. :D
this is so cute i love you so much im so jealous
This is the best story I have ever read, god bless
What’s in a name? For Japanese artist ipnot, a lot. Raised by makers and crafters, ipnot was given her nickname when she was young but she’s certainly grown into it. After discovering embroidery from her Grandmother and then being fascinated by the French knot, ipnot has spent years perfecting her hand-embroidery art and today creates “paintings” using just needles and yarn.
embroidered miniature ramen
Particularly alluring are ipnot’s miniature and realistic depictions of food, which are created in part by carefully combining the rights hues from her collection of roughly 500 different colors of yarn.
embroidered miniature ramen
embroidered miniature ramen
You can see more of her work on Twitter and Instagram where she posts new creations. There’s also some fun stuff on her website (like embroidered social media icons).
embroidered mini tomatoes
embroidered miniature apple, whole and sliced in half
embroidered miniature chocolate (can you tell which is embroidery?)
embroidered miniature Ehomaki, a type of sushi roll
What fighting like a girl was all about in Georgian Era Britain —- Elizabeth “Lady Bare Knuckles” Stokes
Think that women’s boxing or MMA fighting is a recent development in fighting sports? Think again. From the 18th to early 19th century it was not uncommon for women to fight in the ring as well as men. Back then boxing was not the boxing of today, not by a long shot. Venues tended to be saloons, pubs, small arenas, or even open streets and back-alleys. Rules differed from venue to venue, but for the most part fights were done bare knuckled, and many fights were a no holds barred type setup. Some fights even included deadly weapons such as clubs, swords, and staves. Needless to say, injury and death was common.
One of the most famous female fighters in early 18th century Britain was Elizabeth Stokes (born Elizabeth Wilkinson), a mother and fighter whose career lasted mostly throughout the 1720’s. In 1722 she was challenged by Hannah Highfield for a prize of three guineas. Stokes accepted the challenge but offered a counter challenge,
“I, Elizabeth Wilkinson of Clerkenwell, who had earlier had some words with Hannah Hyfield, ‘challenged and invited’ her to meet me on the stage for three guineas. Each fighter will hold half-a-crown in each hand and the first to drop the money would lose the battle”
Elizabeth won after a 22 minute fight, giving Hannah Hyfield a savage thumping that caused her to drop her coin. Later in the evening she won another fight against a woman named Martha Jones.
After the fight with Hannah Hyfield Stoke’s career took off, making her the most popular female fighter in Britain and earning her the name “Lady Bareknuckles”. After marrying her husand James Stokes, the couple often fought in paired and tag-team matches. Incredibly Stoke’s even fought men on a number of occasions, something that was rare in bareknuckle boxing. Even more incredibly, she trounced them every time, beating the crap out of them with her swift and powerful fists. Not only was she a master pugilist, Stokes was also skilled with weapons as well. She was known to be particularly skilled with the cudgel and short sword.
By the mid 19th century women’s fighting had come to a close as professional organizations, rules, and Victorian Era prejudices against women drove the sport underground and turned fighting into a gentlemen’s sport.
I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.
They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.
Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).
By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.
You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.
The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.
“Hippopotamus.”
This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned
Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”
And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.
But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.
Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.
You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.
The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.
You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.
It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.
Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.
When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.
“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.
One word: Moose
“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”
BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!
“That’s called a moose.”
Wolverines.
Also.. dolphins.
The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.
You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…
When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.
And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.
Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.
“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“
Every night.
It came for someone almost every night.
Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight. They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved. Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again.
What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror. Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather. It had fangs as long as his grasping digits. Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity. And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.
Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it.
The earth natives called the monster a leopard.
It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge. Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster.
But rumor was that there was worse on this planet. Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.
A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity. While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out. This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.
“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped. “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts. And these are domesticated. Harmless.”
The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent. “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.” Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.
More not-quite-looking. 455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner. “That one,” she decided. “Alone in the separate pasture. Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker. Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season. And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium. This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”
I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…
It was a strange creature Tar'van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.
“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.
The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.
Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’
“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”
Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.
The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.
“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.
“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar'van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”
The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.
“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.
“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.
Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.
“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”
Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.
“Please,” Tar'van bags. “Get us back safely.”
@kryallaorchid, you guys really lost a war to emus? Why was it necessary?
oh, mate, you never mess with the emus.
(Jesus christ. Dont get us started on kangaroos)
They had faced Emu’s. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.
Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird. “Cassowary…” They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.
The only ones to survive was the native guide and Tar'van. The guide was carrying the soldier over his shoulder as they made their way back to the settlement. Tar'van was a wreck. Periodically alternating between rocking in complete silence and whispering broken words in horror. When they consulted the native all he said was “Its spring…. Magpie season…”
“Listen up, troops. This armour upgrade has been tested both in the laboratories of the best Imperial military scientists and in the field. We are impervious to the stings of any insect on this hellhole of a planet, striped or not! We can brave the perils of its wildlife, and conquer it at long last! Revenge for our fallen companions! Glory to the Emperor!”
“Excuse me,” the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squad’s cheers die on their lips. “This is Japan. You haven’t seen what–”
“Silence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!”
The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.
In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.
But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squad’s medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldier’s armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects aren’t even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldier’s body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.
Finally asked about what happened, the human sighs. “Japanese honeybees. They do this to wasps, too.”
“How?” You ask. “How has your species dominated this planet?”
The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you can’t help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)
“Persistence and ingenuity.” The human answers, still smiling.
It doesn’t matter that this one is your prisoner. Humans, you decide, are as terrifying as their planet.
“And scattered about it … were the Martians–dead!–slain by the putrefactive and disease bacteria against which their systems were unprepared; slain as the red weed was being slain; slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things that God, in his wisdom, had put upon this earth.”
– HG Wells, The War of the Worlds,1898
I’m picturing aliens going up against a hoard of Canadian geese, or a swan.
I think at that point they’d just give up.
Or fire ants
No one even MENTIONED snakes yet…
This thing gets better EVERY FUCKING TIME I SEE IT.
“Let us try the creatures that the humans keep for domestic companionship”
“Is that a miniature tiger?”
“Why does this human own a small pack of wolves?”
The aliens ask their human captive why small wolves live with them.
“Oh, you mean dogs? Yeah, they’re the only animals that can keep up with us.”
The aliens look at each other in fear. “What do you mean?”
“Oh well that’s why you guys ‘won’ is because humans aren’t super fast or strong. I think my middle school biology teacher called us pursuit predators? It means we evolved to hunt things by following them at walking pace until they had to stop to sleep and then catching up to them then. Dogs are the only animals that can keep up with us. Did you know one time a pack of wolves tailed a herd of caribou for three days straight?”
“Uh… okay, what about these small round things with big teeth?”
“Omg dude no if you give a hamster enought time that little fucker can chew through concrete :)”
The aliens wonder if the surrender of humanity was a trap.
Somebody do sharks or sea creatures next. Giant squids would wreak havoc on their ships.
This is the best post I have ever seen HOLY shit.
Isn’t this essentially the plot of Animorphs?
“SIR OUR RATIONS FOR THE MONTH HAVE BEEN STOLEN!” a grunt cried
“What?! How?! The crates were locked tighter than our God Emperor Tarxius’s Treasurey!” the units leader said shocked.
The squad gathered, murmurs of concern filled the air. They would not have enough food to stay on the planet and to return so soon to home base would bring shame and possible death upon them for their failure.
“We found this near the empty crates” the grunt holds up a black object.
The leader took it and studied it further. It seemed like a branch from a plant, but much softer on the sides. “Bring the prisoners” the leader commanded. Two of the grunts returned with two humans. “What is this?!” he yelled.
The humans looked it over. “That would be a feather” one said
“This feather is our one clue as to who stole our supplies, where does it come from?!” The leader yelled again.
“A bird” the other said
“One of those airborne creatures?! How could they have possibly cracked our locks!?”
“This might belong to a crow. They are pretty smart. Possibly the smartest of the birds.”
“Though most birds are quite intelligent already”
“This species is said to be even more intelligent than humans”
“Especially at thievery”
“Indeed, they could very well be the greatest thieves on the planet”
“And at the rate their intellect seems to be increasing, could be the universe”
The leader stares at them. “How have your species stopped these master thieves?!”
“…not sure.”
“maybe they just didn’t feel like it”
“Put the prisoners back in their holding tubes. We must learn of a way to deal with these…”Crows”
The humans were escorted back to their prison. The two, snickering to themselves with those chilling smiles on their faces.
“THIS CRATE HAS BEEN PENETRATED FROM BENEATH! Through the floor! Who is responsible?!”
“Shouldn’t’a gotten rid of my moggies, mate. Yer got rats, you do.”
Interesting! I am used to seeing this because I go through a lot of photographs and often review old ones, but it is neat to see the age jump side by side with them looking so directly at the camera. Most of my casual shots are more candid and the posed ones are costumed so they have a different sort of flavor to them already.
Ahinoam
Tel Aviv-based photographer Neta Dror photographed six Israeli girls as adolescents and young women for her latest creative photo project titled At 15 and 20. First shooting portraits in 2011, and then following up years later in 2016, the images show how each woman has matured.
Comparative portraiture isn’t something new, but Dror’s take on then and now photography is enhanced by her ability to get inside her subject. Each girl’s gaze penetrates the photographer’s lens, and it’s interesting to see how body language has changed.
Coming into their own, each woman is keenly aware of how much of herself she is willing to expose. “It was incredible to see how differently they presented themselves to me and to the camera: all grew more confident and were less willing to expose themselves,” Dror writes. Compared with the openness of their adolescent selves, entering into their twenties, the women vary from guarded poses to “take charge” stances.
As a young photographer, Dror has been making a name for herself through exhibitions in Israel and abroad. And with creative projects like At 15 and 20, she shows the talent and imagination to be a photographer to watch out for.
The comparative portraiture project called for photographing the same girls in 2011 and 2016.
Since 2015, linguistic aid Google Translate has featured Word Lens, a futuristic function that enables users to translate text in real time. Once reserved for a handful of languages—namely, English, Spanish, Russian, Italian, French, Portuguese, and German—the Word Lens tool can now decipher and transcribe 30 tongues, including Japanese.
Unlike the traditional features of the rest of the Google Translate app, Word Lens does not work from photographs or require any sort of typing on your end. To get a quick translation on-the-go, all you have to do is point your smartphone’s camera lens at the unfamiliar text, whether it’s adorning a street sign, scribbled across a menu, or even listed on a food label, and, instantly, an easy-to-read translation will magically pop up on your screen.
Google views this visual aid as especially handy for tourists in Japan, who often “have to worry about taking a wrong turn on a busy Shibuya street or ordering something you wouldn’t normally eat.” With Word Lens as your helpful guide, you can stay away from the second guessing and enjoy your holiday—even without a cellular connection!
In addition to converting Japanese characters to English words, the app can also translate English into Japanese. You can see the growing list of languages supported by the state-of-the-art gadget directly on the Google Translate app, which is currently available for both iOS and Android devices.
Google Translate’s Word Lens feature now translates Japanese characters.
Though it’s been in effect since 2015, Japanese has only recently been added to the list of languages.
In addition to Word Lens, the app boasts numerous foreign language shortcuts.
When soon-to-be 22-year-old Chris Nervegna was planning his birthday festivities with his friends, they came up with one particularly colorful idea: a Bob Ross painting party! As a fan of the lovable art instructor and television personality, Nervegna viewed the theme as the perfect way to celebrate his big day.
To prepare for the painterly affair, Nervegna purchased primed canvases, brushes, palette knives, and lots and lots of paint. Once it was time to celebrate, he and his party guests huddled around his television as they painted along to a screening of The Joy of Painting, Ross’ iconic PBS program. As the artist’s famously calm voice talked Nervegna and his friends through different painting techniques, they each painted their own mountainous landscape—complete, of course, with Ross’ signature “happy trees.”
Following the success of wholesome party, Nervegna shared pictures of the event on his Twitter, accompanied by a description deeming it the “BEST. DAY. EVER.” His post has since gone viral, with many admirers already planning their own Joy of Painting-themed parties. So, with this party trend now on the horizon, it’s probably a good time to break out the art supplies, brush up on your techniques, and perfect your permed ‘do!
Nervegna’s sweet and silly Bob Ross Painting Party was a total success.
