My house is strange. There’s me, i’m bisexual, and I live with my gay brother and my asexual fiance.
My brother and I have the same taste in boys, but i’m really the only one who likes girls, and my fiance is generally just really excited about dragons.
Dude I want this sitcom
is generally just really excited about dragons
- david bowie
everything ends apart from david bowie. bowie is forever.
I am the evidence. Belle, 2014
"Looting? I thought these were supposed to be nonviolent protests"
I know it’s incredible! People are literally coming out of the woodwork to comment on this photoset to focus on the looting headline with “well yes it is nice they were helping people hit with the tear gas, but stealing is still wrong uwu” as if they’re back to kindergarten morality.
Like everyone who’s gone to boot camp I’ve been tear gassed. They put about 50+ of you in a gas chamber and toss it in. You have to stay there until your rank is allowed to exit. Before that though, you have to say your name, rank, and social security number. You then exit and file into ranks (again) outside and are not allowed at any point to rinse your face or eyes for the entire day.
That right there? Easily the worst part of boot camp. My eyes were literally swollen shut. I was blinded for a good 30 minutes and my chest hurt for days.
I have zero problem and not and ounce of judgement for people raiding a mcdonalds that can easily afford to repair damage for ANYTHING to help ease the shittiness that is being tear gassed. Esp because every one of us in boot were medically sound to deal with tear gas. Children, asthmatics, people prone to panic and anxiety attacks, the elderly as sooo many more are NOT going to handle tear gas well at ALL.
Or that smoke the police use either.
It’s easy to sit there and judge someone from the safety of your home and say things like “it’s just tear gas” or “it can’t be that bad”.
Fuck you. As someone who HAS been gassed, you need to stfu.
I remember all the preparation they did to get us ready for the gas chamber in boot camp. We were taught how to handle ourselves, how to control our breathing, not to touch anything, how to avoid the worst of the gas. But it still didn’t matter. I remember taking in that first breath and feeling like I had just been kicked in the chest. I remember a few guys in my platoon falling down and vomiting. We knew the gas wasn’t as bad on the floor but we were the fifth platoon through and the vomit kept us from bending over more than absolutely necessary. I remember a few guys, guys in peak health training to be infantrymen, breaking ranks and running for the door only to be dragged back in kicking and screaming until they said name, rank and serial. They were expecting it, trained for it, bragging about how it wouldn’t bother them.
I remember standing there with all of the mucus from my nasal cavity on the front of my ACUs and thinking to myself “This is the nonviolent option?”
Covered head to toe and my skin still itching I looked down at the silver wedding band hanging next to my dog tags and realized that the gas had eaten little pits into its surface.
I stood there and thought of all the news reports I had seen over the years. The uprisings and revolutionaries being gassed, the crowds running from men in masks.
That’s the moment I got it, staring at my ruined wedding band, that’s the moment I realized terrorism isn’t about bombs or who is using them. It’s about controlling people through fear. It’s about removing their ability to act reasonably, to make them seem like the monsters. Terrorism is about triggering people to fight or flight then blaming them for not being rational. It’s about power. Remove someone’s power to act with reason, and you remove their humanity.
flower language has always been an intense source of disappointment for me
like, they all mean really generic things like “love” or “forever” or “i’m sorry”
i thought you could combine flowers
like you could just send someone a bouquet and from the combination of hibiscus and posies and tulips they’d understand “the rebel leader is dead, rendezvous at the docks at 8, bring the dog, you will need lighter fluid and a large tomato”
I really hope no one’s answered this for you yet, I saw this and got so excited that my obscure knowledge base might come into use. I had to stretch a few flowers so to speak but Victorian flower language allows for alteration in meaning depending on colour, fruit, flower, bud, steam, leaves and thorns, so I didn’t feel I was too far out of line. This message would work best as two bouquets bound together. First red Nasturtium with no leaves (red denotes a leader, the nasturtium a patriot) mixed with white or red Mask Flowers (rebellion, red if you want to emphasize fighting, white martyrdom) around Cypress (death). Then Chick weed (rendezvous) and Blue Convolvulus (night) surrounded by eight White Popular Leaves (symbolises the time: eight), Yellow Iris (flame, and a flower that grows by rivers) and Yellow Prarie Dock Flowers (this was closest I could find to docks)and one large Tomato Leaf, all bound in Dogwood Bark. Dogwood represents deceit, but as far as I could find the bark wasn’t used symbolically, and as you referred to the dog instead of a dog, I thought it was likely the pun should be a dead giveaway.
So there’s your rebel message!
Exmouth, England (by Jerry.B9)
thank you, Chris Evans. I’m ready to see my dash full of wet Sebastian Stan.
The video begins humorously as Anthony Carbajal, a photographer, dresses up in a neon bikini top and soaps up a car before being doused with ice water.