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One of the most important things you can teach your kids is when and how to say no to authority figures.

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"who radicalized you" ever since i was a child i wanted other people to be treated nicely and fairly because i didnt understand why theyd deserve otherwise and it fills me with disgust seeing how people treat their fellow human beings sometimes

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who do we think was dumber:

dooku, who just outright failed at convincing obi-wan to join him to defeat sidious

maul, who succeeded at convincing ahsoka to join him to defeat sidious, then un-succeeded by choosing pretty much the only wrong answer to “what do you want with anakin skywalker”

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when i was a kid i used to pray to god every night that he would “create an invisible hole somewhere”. to me an “invisible hole” was a deep pit that would look like regular ground until you stepped on it, at which point you would presumably fall to your death - an illusory floor. it was very important to me that it was just at some random location, because it had to trap a person i didn’t know and would never meet, though in my attempt to actualize my prayer through whatever focus my 4 year old brain could muster up i did start to imagine the future victim’s face as they met their sudden demise. i was not motivated by any potential personal gain, i simply wanted to test god’s power.

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Anyone ever thought about how Bleach's greatest tragedy is Ichigo's desire was to fight fate but has never had a shred of agency his entire life?

Even when Ichigo sincerely believes he's acting of his own accord; he's merely the puppet dancing to another's strings?

Aizen manipulated his parents into meeting, manipulated Rukia into meeting him.

Kisuke manipulated Ichigo from behind the scenes while Ichigo tried to save Rukia, forcing him to learn skills waaaay above his paygrade before he was remotely ready to further Kisuke's own plans. It could be argued that Ichigo's entire existence was planned according to Kisuke's designs.

Isshin manipulated/forced him to learn Deux Ex Saigo no Getsuga Tenshou without telling him the cost, because apparently it was the 'only way' - despite having Kisuke "I plan for ten thousand scenarios" Urahara on his side. And did little in the way of helping his powerless literally soul-torn son cope with the monumental sacrifice after the fact.

Ginjo Kugo and his followers manipulated Ichigo by stringing along the prospect of gaining Fullbring, so they could steal it to have their revenge on Soul Society. Made easier due to the aforementioned apparent lack of support from Isshin.

Sword!Yhwach has manipulated Ichigo the entire time by turning him against his own soul, sabotaging his growth and ability to harness his powers.

Ichibei manipulated him into undergoing that trial to turn him into a Soul King vessel with the intention of chopping him up as the replacement.

Yhwach manipulated Ichigo into killing the Soul King.

"Give me a blade to shatter fate." is a sad joke and poor Ichigo is the walking punchline.

No wonder why no one told him anything about himself until the last minute. An ignorant tool is an easily manipulated tool.

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the Blasphemous series is the only media I've ever seen that understands what makes Catholicism interesting as a mythology. Not as a religion, but as a mythology.

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Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

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me.

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Hot take, but cis people have gender identities. They aren't the gender they identify as because of their genitalia or what their birth certificate says. They're only cis because they identify with a gender and it happens to match their government documentation. Cis men aren't men because they're "obviously" men for having a penis. They're men because they identify as men. It's the self-identification that dictates this, not any other factor, even for cis folks. And we should be framing it this way. A cis man identifies as a man and a cis woman identifies as a woman. There is no automatic or inherent gender.

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I think it's unfortunate you're intentionally trying to find negative parts of League instead of focusing on what's good. I'm all for appropriate criticism, but "OMG how did Arcane do well with this source material 🤢🤢🤢" is kinda meanspirited.

What is good about league lol

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framing is everything

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Thousands of premature infants were saved from certain death by being part of a Coney Island entertainment sideshow.

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

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wizard college is going to kill me I swear to god. I just saw someone without a component satchel reach into their pocket and pull out a handful of LOOSE tapioca to use as a substitute for blood in their fell ritual. and it worked. I've never been so fucking mad.