#auto industry body

[blog4todaycom]

GM's Cruise to slash fleet of robotaxis by 50% in San Francisco after collisions | CNN Business

CNN  —  California authorities have asked General Motors to “immediately” take some of its Cruse robotaxis off the road after autonomous vehicles were involved in two collisions – including one with an active fire truck – last week in San Francisco. California’s Department of Motor Vehicles confirmed to CNN that it is investigating “recent concerning incidents involving Cruise vehicles in San…

[reportwire]

Tesla, Musk sued by shareholders over self-driving safety claims | CNN Business

Reuters  —  Tesla (TSLA) and its Chief Executive Elon Musk were sued on Monday by shareholders who accused them of overstating the effectiveness and safety of their electric vehicles’ Autopilot and Full Self-Driving technologies. In a proposed class action filed in San Francisco federal court, shareholders said Tesla defrauded them over four years with false and misleading statements that…

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Dodge Fire Granada Concept, 1954. One of the first cars to have a fibreglass body installed on a stock chassis, the Granada was powered by 241ci Red Ram Hemi V8. It was built for the Dodge Division of the Chrysler Corporation by Creative Industries of Detroit and first shown at the Los Angeles Auto Show. The car was restored and appeared 64 years after its original debut at the 2018 Amelia Island Concours d’Elegance

[astralnymphh]

car wrapper ellie tbh.. ౨ৎ

the vision is fresh in my mind, and nonetheless, i'm still THROBBING at the mere thought-up imagery of ellie thumbing and smoothing your car with such tender and trained pressure in her fingertips— you wish you were in its place. established as a side gig in joel’s auto body shop, she wraps cars day-to-day, hour by hour, arranged inside a well-lit, decently compact garage swarmed with the whole hardcore shebang of grunge rock and various metal genres (with a biased cling to nirvana tbh). notorious outfitting; bare, freckled, and sun-showered arms, cut delectably at the shoulders by an off-white ribbed tank worn and sweat through. those hips fitted in some low-waisted, slouchy denim, accompanied by a small metallic carabiner clip that holds all of her jangly keys. and— most markedly, stud-pierced lobes with an industrial bar bridging one ear; absolute hottie alert. now, besides appearance and attitude, i think she has some sort of inherent apt for making girls swoon. doesn't even necessarily intend to— actually, whenever she opens her mouth, a total nerd comes out! though what seems to shoot right over her head is the fact that all her oral mannerisms and idle chit-chats of, “you sure you don't want me to take a quick peek under the hood? could save you a couple of bucks..” which, with a tone so tempting and drawled in such a convincing ‘advertisey’ way, ends up easily persuading girls and brings the heat to their cheeks. so, when she sways you, you decide to slump somewhere and watch. witness; consume her expertise with your eager pupils. ellie assures she'll only be a couple hours— but to rephrase it, those handful of hours spent chatting, eye-flirting, and chuckling silently to yourselves, always routes the afternoon into her tiny office where she eats the fuck out of your pussy.

masterlist . daily click . read this . palestine mp

no i did not see those car wrapping videos on tt and no i definitely did not get this idea from them DENY DENY DENY

[iamthecomet]

𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕

Rating: E Pairing: Rain/Swiss/Dewdrop Featuring: A semi-public blow job, Dew and Swiss ruining Rain's life, public bathroom shenanigans, cum swaping, cum eating, lots of kissing, lots of dick sucking. Rain losing his mind just a little. Word Count: around 2.5k.

“You did say you could take us both,” Dew says absently, taking stock of the bathroom. Rain can’t really focus on anything but them. On Swiss still invading his space–giving him just enough room to breathe. On Dew, meandering toward them slow, like he wants the distance to feel like miles when it’s only a few feet. 

“I can,” Rain says, a rushed whisper. Unsure even as he says it. Of course he can handle them both–he has a hundred times. Maybe not half drunk in a public bathroom but that doesn’t really matter. They are familiar–they are his. There is nothing different this time from a hundred other times. And he can take it–but he’s also pretty sure he’s going to walk out of here on shaky legs. 

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝙰𝙾𝟹 𝙾𝚛 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚞𝚝

The bathroom isn’t bad, as far as bar bathrooms go. Rain gets a good look of clean porcelain and shiny stall doors all half open before his vision is filled with multi-ghoul instead. Swiss takes up all available space, grinning at him as he crowds up, invades Rain’s space. Swiss plants a warm hand in the center of his chest, and pushes him backwards until his shoulders hit the wall between the paper towel dispenser and the auto-dyer.

Rain swallows hard, looks up. Feels the rapid pulse in his own throat, anticipation. The slight thrill of being bullied around, manhandled. It makes him feel dizzy–or maybe that’s just from that last sugary drink Cumulus slid him. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, breathes deep.

He smells sandalwood, weed, and industrial cleaner. He can smell the whiskey on Swiss’ breath as he leans in, presses an open mouthed kiss to the skin beneath Rain’s ear. Rain sighs, leans deeper into it, bares his neck for the softness of Swiss’ mouth. There’s a noise–quiet–the door pushing open a crack. And then, in addition to Swiss, Rain smells a campfire, wet smoldering wood, cinnamon.

He opens his eyes when he hears the door close. He watches long, lithe, fingers flip the lock.

Dew’s on the other side of the room. Hair tie pinned between his teeth as he gathers his hair to twist it into the messiest bun Rain’s ever seen him do. The kind that will hurt to take out. Rain will have to listen to that later, he knows. Have to feel Dew’s little winces as he tries to comb through the knots. Some soft part of him can’t wait for it.

But he can’t dwell on that thought long, Swiss’ sharp teeth against his earlobe drag him away from it, back here. To the press of Swiss’ body against his and the way his cock fills out against his zipper.

Dew chuckles low as he appraises Swiss and Rain, rocking back on his heels. Admiring.

Rain drags his eyes back to Swiss, tilts his head a question he can’t voice. They planned this–ambushing him in the bathroom–this was a thing.

“What did you expect?” Swiss chides. He backs up a little, pulls his hand back just enough that only his fingers stay on Rain’s sternum. Five points of heat sinking into him.

“You did say you could take us both,” Dew says absently, taking stock of the bathroom. Rain can’t really focus on anything but them. On Swiss still invading his space–giving him just enough room to breathe. On Dew, meandering toward them slow, like he wants the distance to feel like miles when it’s only a few feet. “I can,” Rain says, a rushed whisper. Unsure even as he says it. Of course he can handle them both–he has a hundred times. Maybe not half drunk in a public bathroom but that doesn’t really matter. They are familiar–they are his. There is nothing different this time from a hundred other times. And he can take it–but he’s also pretty sure he’s going to walk out of here on shaky legs.

There’s a round of laughter–low chuckles that warm the pit of Rain’s stomach. And then Swiss falls to his knees. A graceful drop. The same way he does on stage. All strength and control as he sinks down. Rain’s stomach twists the same way it does when he watches him during a ritual. Coiling tight.

Dew slips closer, comes up on Rain’s side. Wraps an overwarm hand around Rain’s jaw. Thumb digging into his cheek as he pulls Rain down to him, catches him in a kiss that tastes like gin and cigarettes. Rain melts into it. Opens his mouth when Dew’s tongue prods at his lips and lets him in. Lets Dew sweep his tongue over his teeth as he kisses him deep and sloppy. Rain reaches out, finally peeling his hands away from the wall to grip the lapels of Dew’s jacket–to hold him there. Content to kiss him forever. Dew slips a hand around to the back of Rain’s skull–cradles him. Fingers tangling in his curls. Gentle despite the intensity of the kiss.

Rain’s wobbly. From the booze. From all of the blood in his body rushing south. From both of them–the heat, the urgency of their touches. From the way Dew holds him in place so he can kiss him the way he wants. Fingers drifting down to splay over his neck. To dig into the places where his gills would be if he wasn’t fully glamored. Fingers tracing over them from memory, sending shivers over Rain’s skin. He pulls Dew closer–which should be impossible but somehow the little ghoul finds space, fits himself right up against Rain so Rain can feel how chubby Dew has gotten in his jeans. Dew rolls his hips against Rain’s thigh to further illustrate the point.

Swiss is just as busy. Untucking Rain’s shirt, rucking it up so he can place open mouthed kisses over the spot where his jeans ride low. Teeth grazing over each prominent hipbone. One hand curled possessively around his hip–the other reaching for Rain’s zipper.

In other circumstances–Rain might resist. Might push back. Might stand up straight and boss them around and be mean the way he was playing at when he scoffed and said handling them both at the same time wasn’t even that interesting. But he finds he doesn’t want to.

He wants to let Dew kiss him breathless. Wants to be soft, and desperate, and taken apart for once. And even if he wanted to be aloof–he can’t be, is too far gone already.

Swiss’ calloused fingers brush over the soft skin above the waistband of his pants. The heat of them making him hiss, press forward. Swiss squeezes him there, over his hip. Feeling the soft swell of flesh there–the remnants of a long, relaxing winter.

Rain pulls away from Dew’s mouth, sucking air into burning lungs. Dew immediately latches onto his throat. Tongue pressing down over his hammering pulse point. Gliding over the places his gills should be. Clever teeth pinning delicate flesh between them and worrying it. Rain tips his head, exposing more long neck to Dew’s mouth.

Rain’s lost in it–in the sensation. Drifting on it so thoroughly he almost misses the moment Swiss unzips his pants. The rasp of the zipper brings him back to himself, eyes stuttering open to peer down at Swiss. To watch as he parts Rain’s jeans, tugs his briefs down, and whistles like he’s never seen Rain’s cock before.

“Worked up already, huh?” Swiss says, looking up at Rain eyes wide and filled with feigned innocence that part of Rain wants to gnash his teeth at. Instead, he swallows hard, mouth dry, and nods.

“Real pretty too,” Dew murmurs. He pulls the collar of Rain’s shirt away from his neck so he can latch onto his collarbone–a weak spot that makes Rain’s knees feel like they’ve suddenly filled with water.

Swiss dips his hand in, pets what little of Rain’s shaft he can see so far. That single point of heat makes Rain jolt. His head tips back, knocking hard against the tile wall. He’s met with twin chuckles. Dew’s breath is hot and wet against his neck.

“Don’t look away, Rainy. You don’t want to miss it.”

Rain does as he’s told, slitting his eyes open again, looking down at Swiss. Swiss pulls him out slowly, fingers curling gently at the spot just under the head. Cradling him like it’s something precious.

Swiss licks a bead of pre from the tip and hums. Swiss takes the head into his mouth and Rain watches his cock jump in Swiss’ grip, pulsing against his fingers, his tongue. Dew’s mouth has gone slack against Rain’s shoulder, his own gaze tilted down to watch, rapt.

“Take more of it,” Dew orders and Swiss scoffs.

“You gonna tell me how to suck dick now?”

“Yeah,” Dew says, all breath. “You look better when you take orders anyway.”

Swiss chuckles–doesn’t bite back. It’s weird, the way they’re working together against him, leaning into it. He expects them to be at each other's throats, compete. Instead Swiss takes more of his cock, hollows his cheeks, and Rain couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer if he tried.

His head cracks off the tile–hard. He doesn’t feel it. All he feels is the way Swiss swallows, the way he hums.

“See,” Dew says, “he likes it like that.”

Rain groans. He digs his fingers harder into Dew’s coat, wants to find a way to hold on, to burrow inside of him. Is this how everyone else feels when Rain talks about them like they’re not there? No wonder everyone else likes it so much. He shudders with it, or maybe that’s just because Swiss is reaching into his pants to pull out his balls,to roll impossibly soft skin in his palm, cradling him so gently even while he tries to suck him dry.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Dew chides, and Rain is about to assure Dew that no–he isn’t, when Dew slips away from him, down. Palm gliding down Rain’s side to rest at his hip as he kneels next to Swiss. Rain opens his eyes, looks down at them. Eyes already drooping, pupils blown wide making him look both half asleep and astounded.

He finds them kneeling shoulder to shoulder. Dew watching, head tilted, like he’s critiquing Swiss’ technique.

“Move over, let me show you how to do it.”

Dew doesn’t actually give Swiss a chance to move over–he just leans in as Swiss pulls back and licks a stripe up the side of Rain’s cock–chasing Swiss’ mouth with his own.

Swiss pulls off with a pop and Dew immediately takes his place, sucking the head into his mouth. Rain feels his knees turn to jelly. He leans hard on the wall, relying on it to keep him up. He can’t watch–he can’t look away. Especially not as Swiss descends too, lacing his fingers in Dew’s hair and pulling him back.

“Share with me?” Swiss whispers, voice raspy. Dew looks at him, heat smoldering in his eyes. Rain’s stomach swoops as Dew nods.

When they descend again, Rain watches as they make out around the head of his cock. Tongues pressing together over the slit of his cock, lapping up pre as their lips meet.

“Fuck.” Swiss chuckles low, he pulls back enough to talk. “You like when we share you, Rainy?”

Rain chokes, nods, he wants to answer–wants to say something, but the words get locked in his throat when Swiss descends again and his world narrows down to the heat of their mouths. To the little noises they both make, of the slick sound of their mouths meeting around his cock. Dew reaches up to roll Rain’s balls in his palm and Rain makes a wounded noise. Fists clenching at his sides.

The next thing he knows he has a hand on each of them. Fingers sinking into their hair. Thumbs dragging over their scalps. He moans, low, head tipping back, eyes falling closed no matter how badly he wants to keep watching.

“Gonna cum soon,” Ran rasps out. He’s never been a minute man but he finds himself suddenly reduced to one as they work him over.

“Already?” Dew whispers, breath hot over Rain’s shaft.

“Wish you could see yourselves,” Rain says in his own defense.

“If you let me have it off the tap, I’ll feed it to you,” Swiss whispers to Dew, bargaining. Rain whimpers, gut-punched, a low wounded noise at the very thought of it. He doesn’t know if he can take–knows they’ll make him anyway. Dew rolls his eyes, petulant, but he nods.

“Just don’t waste any.”

Rain just barely sees the look Swiss shoots toward Dew–the one that says as if I’d spill a drop. But then Swiss is sucking him down again, tongue dragging over the sensitive spot beneath the head. Cheeks hollowing. And Rain then can’t watch anymore, can’t think of anything except wet heat and suction.

There’s a warm hand on his balls–he doesn’t know whose. It doesn’t particularly matter. Because no sooner do those lithe fingers roll his balls between them does everything but pleasure disappear. He is nothing but the roll of it, a wave that takes him under. His head cracks hard against the bathroom wall. His knees shake–buckle. He holds himself up by sheer leverage of his weight against the wall. His feet slip on the floor and Dew and Swiss steady him, even as he starts to cum. Even as he spills over Swiss’ tongue.

It goes on forever–or at least it feels like it does. He is turned under by it, wave after wave until he’s spent and Swiss’ mouth is full.

Swiss pulls back with a grin, and Dew is already pulling him in, greedy. Mouth sealing over Swiss’ so he can drink Rain from Swiss’ tongue. Rain slits his eyes open in time to see the flash of Dew’s tongue slipping from his mouth to Swiss’, plundering.

It sends an aftershock through him. And without them to hold him he finds himself sliding down. Sitting gently on the floor, knees splayed, cock softening against his jeans, chest heaving. He’s at eye level when Dew pulls back and thumbs cum away from the corner of Swiss’ mouth and then sucking it into his own with a quiet, satisfied hum.

There is a moment where they all look at each other, a loaded breath.

Rain starts to laugh, just a little. Breathless and spent, he tips his head back, curls falling away from his face. And then, Swiss and Dew are laughing with him, shuffling back to sit next to him, their backs against the wall, knees drawn up.

“Holy fuck,” Rain breathes.

“Uh-huh,” Swiss agrees, pressing his palm down over the spot where his cock is tenting his jeans.

“Told you you couldn’t take us both,” Dew nudges Rain, eyes bright.

“Shut up.”

A knock at the door breaks them of their revelry. The handle rattles.

“Just a minute,” Swiss calls even as he’s working his own zipper open.

“We should–”Rain starts–thinking of courtesy–of the embarrassment when they all walk out of the room together and have to face whoever is out there desperate to get in.

“Fuck that,” Dew says, reaching over Rain’s body to curl his fingers around Swiss’ cock. Swiss hisses, eyes slipping closed as Dew starts to stroke. He turns his face to Rain’s, his grin wide and devious in the fluorescent light. “They can wait.”

[turtlesandfrogs]

Started the day by reading this article from the NY times, and I'm frankly, disturbed.

Some highlights:

"For decades, farmers across America have been encouraged by the federal government to spread municipal sewage on millions of acres of farmland as fertilizer. It was rich in nutrients, and it helped keep the sludge out of landfills."

Which I knew, and I knew that there were concerns about contaminants from like, the medications people were on. But human waste is part of the nutrient cycle, and it always made sense to me that it should be throughly composted and returned to agricultural lands, and I assumed that people in general were taking the steps necessary to make it safe.

But here's what I didn't know:

"The 1972 Clean Water Act had required industrial plants to start sending their wastewater to treatment plants instead of releasing it into rivers and streams, which was a win for the environment but also produced vast new quantities of sludge that had to go somewhere."

Which, yay, no longer polluting bodies of water, but now that means we're applying industrial waste water to agricultural lands. And have been since 1972. Which leads to this situation, among many others, I'm sure:

"The sludge that allegedly contaminated the Colemans’ farm came from the City of Fort Worth water district, which treats sewage from more than 1.2 million people, city records show. Its facility also accepts effluent from industries including aerospace, defense, oil and gas, and auto manufacturing. Synagro takes the sludge and treats it (though not for PFAS, as it’s not required by law) then distributes it as fertilizer."

So here's what some states are doing:

"In Michigan, among the first states to investigate the chemicals in sludge fertilizer, officials shut down one farm where tests found particularly high concentrations in the soil and in cattle that grazed on the land. This year, the state prohibited the property from ever again being used for agriculture. Michigan hasn’t conducted widespread testing at other farms, partly out of concern for the economic effects on its agriculture industry.

In 2022, Maine banned the use of sewage sludge on agricultural fields. It was the first state to do so and is the only state to systematically test farms for the chemicals. Investigators have found contamination on at least 68 of the more than 100 farms checked so far, with some 1,000 sites still to be tested.

“Investigating PFAS is like opening Pandora’s box,” said Nancy McBrady, deputy commissioner of Maine’s Department of Agriculture."

This is fun:

"The E.P.A. is currently studying the risks posed by PFAS in sludge fertilizer (which the industry calls biosolids) to determine if new rules are necessary.

The agency continues to promote its use on cropland, though elsewhere it has started to take action. In April, it ordered utilities to slash PFAS levels in drinking water to near zero and designated two types of the chemical as hazardous substances that must be cleaned up by polluters. The agency now says there is no safe level of PFAS for humans...

It’s difficult to know how much fertilizer sludge is used nationwide, and E.P.A. data is incomplete. The fertilizer industry says more than 2 million dry tons were used on 4.6 million acres of farmland in 2018. And it estimates that farmers have obtained permits to use sewage sludge on nearly 70 million acres, or about a fifth of all U.S. agricultural land."

There's more, but I wanted to condense it at least a little bit. I am glad we're raising awareness, and I'm glad we're starting to regular the amount in our drinking water, and I hope that we'll find a way to actually deal with PFAS. I am so frustrated that people are exposed in the first place, and in nigh inescapable ways.

Also, to all those people who were like, oh, organic isn't at all healthier for consumers? Guess what the organic standards don't allow to be applied?

[wither-and-thither]

I think I should expose people to my mob player headcanons.

Basically, it’s a tangling of code, like when I try to pull out my purple skein from the yarn crate and pull out five skeins at the same time on accident. Maybe your dad keeps getting repeatedly killed by creepers? There’s a good chance you’ll be part creeper, since traces of his death are left in his code. Maybe your mom runs an industrial scale flower farm? You might be born with flowers growing out of you, since she’s got flowers threaded into her code from being around them so much.

Maybe your parent is a Warden with such a high body count that when you budded out of the mycelium you had human eyes and opposable thumbs, and you had to fucking run because there’s enough Player in your fungus to register as an Intruder. You’ve never seen the sun before.

Maybe your parent’s village was obliterated by Withers and when you screamed your first baby scream the flowers in the flowerbox blackened and died.

Builders eat Redstone because it’s on their hands and everything they touch, including their pantries. Their children eat redstone as essential nutrients and have been known to vampirically drain auto farms through sheer force of hangry.

[postoctobrist]

Is the WTYP pod aware that they have a not insignificant number of fans that are engineers in the auto industry specifically? Also, something that wasn't touched on enough in the EV episode was how the management rushes the development on these projects and skips on basics like repair manuals and adding cut points to do body repairs because they are chasing Tesla's "success"

oh I mean one thing I have come to discover is that we have people everywhere

[morbidology]

Amy Fisher, born in Merrick, New York, gained infamy in 1992 when, at age 17, she was arrested for the attempted murder of Mary Jo Buttafuoco. The incident stemmed from a tumultuous relationship with Joey Buttafuoco, a 35-year-old auto body shop owner who allegedly had groomed Fisher while she was a minor.

To gain his attention, Fisher repeatedly damaged her car as an excuse to visit his shop. After hearing Joey's frustrations about his wife, Fisher acquired a .25-caliber handgun and went to the Buttafuoco home, where a confrontation ended in Mary Jo being shot in the head. Remarkably, Mary Jo survived, though with severe injuries, leading to Fisher’s arrest and conviction.

Fisher’s trial quickly became a tabloid sensation. Her recorded conversations, including one with gym owner Paul Makely, exposed her willingness to leverage the scandal for fame, stating she wanted "her name in the press" to benefit financially. She accepted a plea deal, pleading guilty to first-degree assault, and served seven years in prison. Joey Buttafuoco initially denied the grooming, though he was later convicted of statutory rape after Fisher provided receipts and testimony confirming their relationship.

After her release, Fisher pursued a variety of public endeavors, including a column in The Long Island Press and publishing her biography, If I Knew Then.... In the years that followed, she faced controversy once more when her husband sold a sex tape of her, which she initially sued to prevent, later agreeing to promotional appearances. This shifted her career into adult entertainment, where she performed in films and worked as a stripper for several years before stepping away from the industry.

In later years, Fisher appeared on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew, navigating the fallout of her early notoriety. Her life has been a continual source of media intrigue, particularly after reunions with both Joey and Mary Jo Buttafuoco.

[dielukedie-subaru]

This literally just helped me find the right hood latch parts new!

95-99 Subaru Legacy/Outback BD/BG/BK OEM parts quick reference. ✌

Holy Grail full of OEM part numbers from an auto repair shop manual. Really hard to find these! Enjoy the complete list of part numbers for your 2nd gen. Legacy build.

[so-many-ocs]

Let's Talk: Worldbuilding Small Towns & Cities

this is a request from instagram!

Research!

pick a couple of real-life small towns or non-major cities and look into them!

how, when, and why did they form? some towns or cities form around bodies of water, are created for a specific industry (such as mining or lumber), or grow in close proximity to more major cities. what is the population makeup and density? how do people make a living there?

Essentials!

there are a couple of things that your town or city will need in order to function:

housing, shop(s) for food/clothing, some kind of food source such as a farm or garden, some kind of nearby water source such as a well or river, and a place for medical supplies or treatment.

depending on how modern the setting or how small the settlement, some of these may be located outside of your town/city.

Time Period!

more modern settings may have additional locations: laundromats, auto repair shops, restaurants and cafes, libraries, hardware stores, city halls, post offices, emergency services, waste management services, etc.

a lot of it depends on how big and how current your town or city is. less essential spots may be cut or merged based on these factors. for instance, a very small town might have furniture, groceries, convenience, and a pharmacy all in one building or “store.”

Naming!

for small town/city names, keep it simple! a lot of these places are named after relevant people/cultures, geography, or descriptors; think “Littletown,” “Fairhill,” “Fresh Springs,” or “Jefferson.” some small towns or cities are named after larger towns or cities, like any one of the half dozen places called “Ithaca” in the U.S.

if you’ve built or are using another language, the same naming conventions usually apply.

Questions!

what era is this setting in? agricultural, pre-industrial, industrial, post-industrial, etc? what level of technological advancement does this setting have?

what does trade look like there? what do they import and export? how close are they to major trade routes?

what major cultures, political affiliations, and religions influence this setting? how and when did these influences come about?

what is the geographical location? island, mountain, plains, etc?

what is stopping this location from growing into a major town or city?

Stealing!

when in doubt, steal like an artist!

find an existing (or historical) small city or cities that fit the rough vibe you’re going for and swap out necessary details.

if you use multiple inspiration sources, try and keep it consistent! most things are the way they are for a reason. take climate, geography, and general location into account!

-----------------

that's all! happy writing :)

buy me a ko-fi || what's radio apocalypse?

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Lamborghini Miura P400S

One of the most iconic supercars 1967 Lamborghini Miura P400! Designed by Marcello Gandini

Very few cars managed to change the automobile world like Miura, this ultimate sports car.

Only 764 Lamborghini Miuras were built from 1966 to 1973.

Sixty years ago, precisely on May 1963, “Automobili Ferruccio Lamborghini SAS” was registered as a company. It was the first name of an industrial adventure that, starting from scratch, has revolutionized the automotive industry and created style icons, evolving up to becoming today the world-famous company “Automobili Lamborghini S.p.A.

1965 Turin Auto Show, Lamborghini Automobili unveiled something out of this world, a masterpiece that has never seen before. A car? No, much more better, a chassis of a car.

The story says that at that event Nuccio Bertone was very fascinated by that chassis, so he approached Ferruccio Lamborghini and said: “I’m the one who can make the shoe to fit your foot”. Ferruccio of course agreed.

The body for that chassis was designed in only 4 months by the young Marcello Gandini and the final car was unveiled at the 1966 Geneva Motor Show and it was the highlight of the show. That car was the Lamborghini Miura.

Ferruccio's reaction? Disappointment. The first time he saw the car he said: "how am I supposed to put my foot in it? There's no hole, see?"

So they went back to work and 2 years later, at the 1968 Brussels Auto Show, Bertone unveiled the Miura Roadster, that was actually in a targa configuration. It was finished in a metallic light blue color, a slightly redesigned rear, no engine cover and, most importantly, it had no roof.

The Lamborghini Miura P400S is the car the is the definition of cool back in the day. If you owned a Miura then, you are definitely going places. Famous Stars owners of the Miura included Miles Davis Frank Sinatra, Elton John, and Rod Stewart.

[roo-bastmoon]

With 17 versions to buy and 8 versions combined for 160 streams per Spotify account, plus Melon and FLO streams now counting, of course Jungkook’s Seven is charting high and sweeping awards. Firstly because it’s Jungkook of course, and secondly because it’s been given every possible advantage.

My (perhaps controversial) opinions about that are below the cut.

Honestly? I really can’t feel good about any “first” or “most” or “fastest” records achieved by this single—catchy as it is—which wasn’t written or conceived by Jungkook and has nothing much personal or deeply meaningful about it. It’s a fun feel-good summer pop song, for sure, but no more groundbreaking than, say, Bad Decisions (in my opinion… I have no musical expertise.)

But I can’t feel super great about all the records and awards because this many versions immediately restocked and shipped and auto play and promoted to radio and ads and leadership hyping only this while Jungkook says he wants to be the one and only artist to conquer kpop and pop for the next thousand years… it all just doesn’t really sit right with me.

When compared to the 10 months Jimin forewent sleep, food, and showers to have a hand in every aspect of his first (and deeply personal and symbolic) album, which was never sent to radio or restocked, got split tracks and delayed playlisting and shady articles, plus not one kudos or congratulations from leadership even after he made history for South Korea and stocks soared…

Forgive me, but it all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is ruining the song for me.

Some things like culled streams and sales are out of the company’s control. But the things I mentioned above were all possible for Jimin’s Hot 100 #1. Even if every Tannie has total say in their projects' sales and marketing, and everyone was on board with only Jungkook getting the Hybe America "red carpet" treatment, I can’t lie and say the stark difference feels fine. It doesn't, and I confess I leave the headphones in every time Seven comes up in the playlists now.

I’m not jealous. If anything, I have a warped sense of pride that Jimin has done so fantastically well despite so many, many obstacles stacked against him. I love to champion an underdog and I’m glad I never need to doubt his success was organic. I actually feel extra admiration for how humble and hardworking he continues to be—no resting on any laurels for the It Boy. I'm so glad he is my ult-bias.

*sigh*

Listen to me.

I know Jungkook and Jimin are both genuinely good people. I know they are sincerely talented and hard working. I know they truly love each other. I know all members are legitimately happy for each others' success.

I know what’s important to me may not be important to them, nor what they want for their careers. And even if I feel their company’s making shitty decisions, I know my place as a fan.

So I trust them. And I simply hang in. I hope lessons were learned for smoother, fairer future releases. Because neglecting assets makes zero business sense, and perceived favoritism can erode the group’s bonds and tear ARMY apart. It is, frankly, just plain stupid.

So I may dislike things about their solo era rollouts and I can't bring myself to sugar-coat it; but I mostly try to keep my negative thoughts to myself and find things I CAN celebrate with other fans on an open timeline.

I never want another Tannie to feel anguished and misunderstood the way Hobi did about JitB’s physicals.

Watching Jungkook’s face here on his London live when he talks about people hating him just haunts me. It guts me. I can't stand it. That kid was going through it and I don't believe he has a malicious bone in his body, so it just really upsets me seeing him like that.

There’s so, so much about this company, this industry, this culture that I just don’t understand. But I trust Park Jimin completely. As long as Park Jimin loves and supports his members, God knows, I will too.

So!! On that note...

We have Jungkook’s birthday to celebrate next week and Taehyung’s album to support the week after that. I’m going to do my best to rest up and gather some good energy for these things!

And of course, we must congratulate our Jimin, who made history again today, and no matter what, will always set the standard. I just know he's cooking up something else for us with all these weeks of silence, and I cannot wait to go BERSERK for it whenever it drops.

I’m not really sure I had a point to this post. It’s just that I have been mulling all this over for a long time, and finally felt well enough to sit up long enough to come online and type up my thoughts.

I guess what I mostly wanted to share with my friends here is that it’s okay to feel really disappointed and even enraged at the way some things play out over the (hopefully life-long) careers of BTS members. Don't let folks gaslight you. Call it like you see it. (Maybe keep sensitive things behind a cut or in the DMs--and of course, please change your mind if you get better insight. In the end, only the Tannies really know what's going on with the Tannies.)

But while I’m still side-eyeing the company so hard right now, I’ve decided to love and support the boys as people and artists. I'm trying to believe the best in everyone. I’m still an OT7 Jikooker.

You don’t have to agree with me, and if you need to unfollow, I understand. But I figured I should just tell you guys (especially the new followers) where I am at with all this.

Love, Roo

[cryptidfuckery]

Hey so you don’t have to reply to this but I’ve been having a career crisis lately and considering other vocational paths. One of these careers just so happens to be hair. I was wondering if you could tell me what made you want to become a hairdresser?

Ohhh this might get long but

First things first my mom is a hairdresser. Me becoming one wasn't a case of "I'm going to take over my mom's business" because she's been a sole proprietor booth renter for probably over 30 years now. She doesn't run a salon with other people under her, it's just her and her clients. If I worked under her I would have just been taking money our of her pocket.

But my mom being a hairdresser definitely influenced me! Getting to watch her work and own her own business my whole life helped me understand exactly what to expect out of the industry, and what I would have to do to be successful.

But me actually deciding to become a hairdresser started with me being absolutely miserable in my third semester of college. I loved studying sociology, but school and I don't mix well. I also realized that while I loved what I was studying, I didn't have any real interest in the professions usually associated with what I was majoring in. (Didn't want to do any kind of counseling, hate math so no stats work, research was the most enticing but too close to how school works and I Know would have been Miserable ultimately)

So one day being absolutely miserable and stressed around finals I sat myself down and forced myself to think about what the next 5-10 years would look like. I realized that if I stayed in college it would be to finish, find a job in my degree, then eventually when I have the time and money again I'd go to cosmetology school. (At the time I thought I was going to be a makeup artist. Holy shit fuck that noise. Not for me.)

And it just kind of clicked for me. Why am I spending all this money on a degree i (while I loved) did not really want? Especially when I could finish cosmetology school in under a year with less money than 2 semesters of college would be? Especially since you can start making money directly out of cosmetology school and continuously build after that as you gain more clients.

My final advice is this. There is a hairdresser for everyone and there are clients for every hairdresser. Genuinely the best thing you can do is be yourself and the right people will find you. And then they'll give your their friends, who like you too because you're their kind of people. And you get to choose absolutely what the fuck ever you want to specialize in. You can do exclusively color. Exclusively cuts. You can choose what style of cutting and coloring you want to learn from and you can completely switch that in the middle of your career. You can exclusively do texture treatments (perms, keratins, etc) if you're okay with so many chemicals in your body and bad smells! You can specialize in rat haircuts, which I honestly might try to do. (I have not done one yet. Someone let me do a rat haircut on them. Please. Rat haircut.) You can do everything! Also don't forget barbering!! Whole different school with different subsets and specializations, but many many cosmetologists cross over into both as well! I plan on eventually also acquiring a barbering license so I can truly be a one stop trans chop shop (mainly so I can offer my trans girlies clean shaves between electrolysis/Lazer appointments (iirc one can and cannot. I cannot be fucked to check rn)

So. Yeah. I think trades are absolutely the way to go right now in this economy. We provide services that everybody wants or needs, from hair to plumbing to carpentry to welding to auto mechanics to nail techs. There will always be a broken toilet, an oil change, a haircut needed.

Watch out for pandemics though. Woof.

[popstarryeyed]

ttpd lyrics i think people are clowning on unfairly

"you wouldn't last a day in the asylum that raised me" the song is about her celebrity public image and she got famous as a teenager so in context i think she's talking about growing up in the music industry and being shaped by that

"the 1830s without all the racists" the next lines are about how everyone in the room got uncomfortable when she said it and she killed the vibe. the point is that it's a dumb thing to say and a dumb game overall

ttpd lyrics that i think people are clowning on completely fairly

"we declared charlie puth should be a bigger artist"

"like a tattooed golden retriever"

"you know how to ball, i know aristotle"

"touch me while your bros play grand theft auto"

lyrics people aren't clowning on enough

"fresh out the slammer"

"i'm havin' his baby / no, I'm not, but you should see your faces"

"he jokes that 'it's heroin, but this time with an e'"

"like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy"

[justforbooks]

Morgan Spurlock

American film-maker best known for his acclaimed 2004 documentary Super Size Me

Few film-makers can say that their work has made a change to the real world, but Morgan Spurlock had a stronger claim than most. His 2004 documentary Super Size Me, an exposé of how the fast food industry was fuelling America’s obesity epidemic, appeared to have direct repercussions for the world’s largest fast food chain, McDonald’s.

Shortly before the film came out in May that year, the company introduced its Go Active! menu, which included salad items; six weeks after its release, the company abolished its supersize portions entirely.

McDonald’s claimed these menu changes were a coincidence. But the director, who has died aged 53 of complications from cancer, struck a timely blow at the business when awareness about fast food’s corrosive role in public health was on the rise.

Super Size Me’s high-concept premise – eating three McDonald’s meals for 30 days straight – was key to conveying Spurlock’s message. With the director gaining 11kg, plumping out his body fat from 11% to 18% and inflicting heart palpitations, impotence and depression on himself, his gonzo approach put him at the forefront of the early noughties boom in cinematic documentaries instigated by Michael Moore. “There’s real power in a documentary,”Spurlock later said.

Doubts later emerged about Spurlock’s experiment in bodily attrition, after he refused to release his diet logs from the period; and then when it later emerged that he was an alcoholic who had also imbibed during the shoot.

An inveterate attention-seeker and twinkly-eyed showman, he was not going to let these details affect either the purity of Super Size Me’s marketing line, or his emerging career as a documentary star; a budding Moore for the Jackass generation. He would consistently target totems of modern capitalism and consumerism, though none of his subsequent works had the same kind of influence as his 2004 lightning-bottler.

Spurlock was born in Parkersburg, West Virginia, and grew up in Beckley in the Methodist household of his auto-repair shop-owning father Ben and mother Phyllis, an English teacher and high-school counsellor. Though his parents later divorced, he credited his mother in particular with instilling in him a sense of activism: “She was one of those people who speak up when she didn’t agree with things. She was a collector of people too: if you had the ability to help people, you should,” he told the International Documentary Association.

A childhood fan of British humour such as Fawlty Towers and Monty Python, he was already exercising his entertainer’s streak doing “funny walks” around the house aged six or seven.

Rejected five times by University of Southern California’s film school, he graduated from the New York University Tisch School of the Arts in 1993. “I wanted to be Spielberg. I wanted to write and direct scripted movies,” Spurlock told Interview magazine. He originally showed promise in this direction, winning an award for his stage play The Phoenix at the New York international fringe festival in 1999.

After stints as a personal assistant on Woody Allen’s Bullets Over Broadway and Luc Besson’s Leon (both 1994), Spurlock first stepped in front of camera as a promotional spokesman for Sony Electronics. But his breakthrough came though hitching himself to the reality TV bandwagon with the self-created internet webcast, and, later (in 2002), MTV show, I Bet You Will. As one of the presenting team, Spurlock goaded members of the public into humiliating themselves for money – with stunts such as being “wedgied” or eating a worm burrito.

Super Size Me grossed $22m on a $65,000 budget, making it one of the most profitable documentaries of all time. Spurlock believed his body never fully recovered – though he lost the weight thanks to a special diet concocted by his then girlfriend, the vegan chef Alex Jamieson (the pair married and had a son, Laken, in 2006, before divorcing in 2011; Spurlock had been previously married to Priscilla Somer between 1996 and 2003).

He also later expressed doubts about the longer-term impact of Super Size Me on fast food corporations, later reflecting: “People say to me, ‘So has the food gotten healthier?’ And I say, ‘Well, the marketing sure has.’”

Spurlock could not skewer the zeitgeist again to create a second “doc-buster”, despite tilting at big-hitter topics such as terrorism (in 2008’s Where in the World is Osama Bin Laden?) and product-placement and advertising (POM Wonderful Presents: the Greatest Movie Ever Sold in 2011). With his trademark handlebar moustache, he settled into a reliably affable front-of-camera presence nosing around socio-cultural issues and foibles – sometimes fatuously.

In total, he directed and produced nearly 70 films and series, including a One Direction hagiography in 2013 and a Super Size Me sequel in 2017. But he retained keen business sense and marketing nous throughout this prolific output. “He taught us that we have to be chief executive artists,” his fellow documentary-maker Ondi Timoner told Variety.

Towards the end of Spurlock’s life, his career was on hold after he confessed in a 2017 blogpost to sexually abusive behaviour, including an allegation of rape while at college and paying off a production assistant he had harassed. “I have been unfaithful to every wife and girlfriend I have ever had,” he also wrote, explaining he had been sexually abused in his youth. He divulged all this possibly pre-emptively in anticipation of future accusations in the up swell of the #MeToo movement.

Making himself the focus of the story was true to his modus operandi, and his professed desire for self-improvement could indeed have made a fascinating documentary.

But the mea culpa proved an effective self-cancellation, with him resigning from the production company, Warrior Poets, he had founded in 2004 and being sued by Turner Entertainment Networks for an aborted project.

He divorced his third wife, the producer Sara Bernstein – with whom he had a second son – in 2024. His final documentary credit was for a mockumentary creating a fake history around the classic 1992 Simpsons episode Homer at the Bat.

Spurlock is survived by his children, Laken and Kallen, by his parents and his brothers, Craig and Barry.

🔔 Morgan Spurlock, director and producer, born 7 November 1970; died 23 May 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?