#oregon ultimatum
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calpalsworld · 8 days ago
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no matter what i do i just don't like him???? if i could get rid of him i would... but hes like important as fuck
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meshimellow · 2 months ago
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heh heh heh... pressure cooked commission for @calpalsworld
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spw-art · 5 months ago
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Artfight attacks I haven’t yet posted! Happy week 1!
( @calpalsworld, @dayzieheadmayzie, @elmuertologo, @puppipound, @factoryofabettertomorrow, @sillyparad0x)
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truebuggy · 1 year ago
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Artfight attack I did for @calpalsworld that I totally said I was gonna post and then I forgot to so here it is. I fucking love these characters I wanna see more of them PLEASE
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k00ldino · 1 year ago
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windows xp
character belongs to the wonderful @calpalsworld ! go check out their stuff it’s incredible!!
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viceroywrites · 4 months ago
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the way i have this whole story for gravity falls (stan x reader x ford) and am so tempted to write it but i need to finish my other wips
so i'll just dump it out here (some of this is also somewhat inspired by the swooning over stans dating sim)
edit: i ended up making it! interested in reading? click here for the masterlist.
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pretty much the premise is that you are dating ford during the time that he's deep into his research into gravity falls. you become uncomfortable seeing how bill takes over his body and the havoc bill causes when he's in ford's body and after seeing what happened to fiddleford when entering the portal, give him an ultimatum: cut ties with bill or you're done.
of course, ford chooses his research. ford chooses bill.
you can't get over him, and after countless nights of tears, you appeal to fiddleford to let you use his memory gun to erase the memory of ford from your mind.
and he does.
you move back home, confused on how you ended up in a small town in oregon but fiddleford makes up a story, saying you were an old friend, visiting him while he was doing research. you lead a normal life free of the paranormal for many years. you sometimes have dreams, visions of a face that should be familiar but you can't seem to make it out.
planning out a roadtrip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself in explicably drawn to the town of gravity falls and figure you might as well check it out since it's on the way through your drive up to washington, you figure why not.
your car ends up dying on you, the battery giving out almost five miles out of town. as you're on the phone trying to map to the nearest towing company, a gruff voice calls out, asking if you need a hand.
you look up to see stan, his window rolled down and his arm dangling out the side of the car.
why does he look familiar? you think to yourself as you put down your phone.
"yeah if you have jumper cables, i just need to get my car running to get to the next town and hopefully get a replacement battery." you say.
"of course, i have jumper cables, kid - look at my car, you think i haven't been stranded out here myself." stan chuckles, making a effortless u turn with one hand before pulling his car close to yours.
you pop the hood of your car, giving stan access to hook up the jumper cables. you both stand in silence while stan attaches the cables to your car before stan's voice cuts through, "so uh, what brings you out here? you just driving through?"
you almost chuckle at his awkwardness, "sort of. i'm doing a whole road trip through the pacific northwest. i was gonna check out this town ahead, gravity falls."
stan blinks, expecting you to just be passing through the town. his lips spread into a grin, pulling out a business card from his leather jacket. "well, if you're stopping by, you gotta check out the mystery shack! one stop shop for mysterious oddities!"
you take the business card with a giant question mark on the front. you look up at stan, almost feeling like this is a con but as your car starts up to life, you figure you might as well check out what sounds like a tourist trap to appease the man who just helped you.
after driving your car to the mystery shack, you get a tour from stan himself, who shares that he used to be the former owner. as you walk around the building, it almost feels like home, like you've been here before.
talk about deja vu.
little did you know that you would run into the man that you once loved as you rounded the corner, finishing the tour. ford was outside fiddling with a new device with his back turned to you and stan elbows you in the arm, "that's my poindexter brother, ford. he's always working on a some geeky invention."
"you know i can hear you, stanley?" ford sighs, turning around to face you two.
he freezes, seeing the woman that left him all those years ago. "y/n?" he calls out to you.
you blink, stan staring at the two of you in confusion and you tilt your head, confused yourself, "sorry... have we met before? how do you know my name?"
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phoenixyfriend · 9 months ago
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Big news, imo:
I first heard this on Democracy Now broadcast (as presented on Spotify), but today's episode is not up on the site as a transcript yet, so here's Al Jazeera instead:
US senators call on Biden to condition Israel aid on humanitarian access
Eight United States senators have sent a letter to President Joe Biden calling on him to offer Israel an ultimatum: expand aid to Gaza or lose US military assistance.
The letter, released on Tuesday, is the latest effort by US legislators to question ongoing US support for Israel amid its war in Gaza. It also comes as Biden himself has shown more willingness to openly criticise Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, both former presidential candidates, were among the senators who signed the letter. Other signatories include Hawaii’s Mazie Hirono, Maryland’s Chris Van Hollen and Oregon’s Jeff Merkley.
Call your reps. If they are already on this letter, encourage them and let them now you support the action. If they are not, encourage them to back/join the action.
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bitchinbarzal · 1 year ago
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Justin Herbert
76. “Hands off”
19. "I saw that. You just checked out my ass."
After being at camp for the past 30 days, Justin was more than happy to be home with you in Oregon to help pack up your off season home before headed back to LA.
Not much packing was actually getting done however, after a month of being apart Justin had turned into quite the horny guy. His hands weren’t off you.
You were bent over your bed trying to sort your clothes into piles when his hands grabbed your ass and you yelped, spinning around to face him you smack his chest “Hey, hands off!”
He pouts “But-“
“We have three days to pack this whole place up and get it in the truck, please we can have as much sex as humanly possible in LA”
He laughs at your ultimatum and kisses your nose “Ok, ok sorry you’re just so freaking beautiful”
By the time dinner rolled around half the house was packed and Justin was making food for you both.
You trudged downstairs with a box filled with shoes, a heavy box. You threw it down on the kitchen floor and looked up to see your boyfriend, shirtless and only wearing his tight dry-fit shorts with his hair still wet from the shower he must’ve taken.
You stared at his figure, your bottom lip subconsciously trapping between your teeth as your eyes raked his body from his back muscles all the way down.
In your moment of weakness, you hadn’t seen Justin turn around and stand smirking at you until he said
“I saw that. You just checked out my ass”
A blush spread over your cheeks “I was not!”
“Baby… it’s ok you’re allowed to”
You raised your hand to object before stopping yourself “I mean… we have packed, like I said we should”
He smirked, catching onto your words “The beds still made, right?”
“Not for long” You mumbled before you both took off up the stairs, giggling like teenagers in love again.
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bingobongobonko · 1 year ago
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hey boygirl are youuuu a part of a large hivemind or are you just happy to see me
characters from oregon ultimatum by @calpalsworld ITS A GOOD WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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By: Lisa Selin Davis
Published: May 17, 2023
Lily Cooney was fully committed to social justice. In the wake of George Floyd’s death, the now-26-year-old writing tutor marched proudly in Black Lives Matters protests through the streets of Portland, Oregon. 
But the culture in which she was steeped began to take a toll on her mental health. As a white person, she felt responsible for America’s racist legacy of slavery, and worried about her relationship with her Asian American girlfriend. “I felt like I was hurting her, harming her, just by being white,” Cooney told me. 
Though she knew she was a lesbian, she began to identify as nonbinary, a result of her understanding that being a “cis woman” was “associated with colonization and white supremacy and oppression.”
One day in June 2020, she found herself suddenly unleashing a tirade against the next-door neighbor of a friend, a white man who said he supported BLM but had cops in his family whom he supported, too. “I had this moment afterwards where I was like, ‘This is not how I want to behave. I don’t want to be a person who just screams at people because they’re white.’ ”
Anxious and depressed, she had trouble concentrating on work. “I started just going a little crazy,” she said. She decided she needed therapy to work on both her “internalized white supremacy,” her “white guilt,” and to “become a better person.’ ” 
In January 2021, Cooney sought help from a black therapist in Portland she found through a therapy database, who agreed to work with her around issues of race and gender. 
Initially, they practiced mindfulness and self-compassion techniques, from forgiving oneself out loud to the “butterfly hug,” crossing arms and tapping the chest. The therapist even cried with her when she cried about sexual assault or feeling unsupported in relationships. Cooney felt supported and eventually, more in control, more accepting of herself as female. 
Then something unexpected happened. The stronger and more mentally healthy she felt, the less Cooney viewed the world through the lens that had informed her activism—a binary perspective that split all people into categories: white and black, oppressor and oppressed, victimizer and victim.
“I care about equality, I care about racism, I care about homophobia, I care about trans people being safe. I just don’t want to walk around in the world where everyone’s thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are dictated by their identities,” she said.
Cooney wanted to share her newfound realizations, but feared being canceled and ostracized—by her friends, fellow activists, perhaps even her girlfriend. The burden weighed on her, and therapy seemed the place to address it. 
When she first tried to do so, in June, 2022, Cooney’s therapist reacted badly. She told Cooney that critiquing cancel culture was giving in to “white supremacy culture,” and said Cooney was making her feel “unsafe” as a black woman. By the end of the session, the therapist had given her an ultimatum: they could continue to work together and keep cancel culture discussions off the table, or “the relationship was over,” Cooney said.
Cooney continued with the therapist for six more months, but her therapist seemed to emphasize Cooney’s victimhood, reiterating that other people were responsible for her oppression as a gay woman. “She said, ‘You’re not free because of homophobia and sexism. You’ll never be free.’ ”
Cooney began pushing back, expressing views the therapist had declared taboo such as not wanting to categorize people based on their identities, or asserting that too many people were being shamed and punished for minor supposed transgressions. Finally, her therapist told Cooney their relationship was finished.
Ultimately, the thing she had feared the most—being canceled for her views—had happened, by the person with whom she was supposed to be able to share her deepest secrets. “I was just totally in shock, just kind of dead inside,” Cooney told me.
Cooney is not alone in finding therapy overtaken by the same kind of social justice ideology prevalent in schools, medicine, and the law. I spoke with more than two dozen therapists and clients who painted a disturbing picture of what happens in the treatment room when therapists make the tenets of this ideology central to their work, instead of offering empowering approaches that help patients make better choices and take control of their lives. Some patients, like Cooney, have also found themselves “fired” for expressing unacceptable thoughts. 
I spoke to new therapists, some still in training, who describe a profession that teaches the ascribing of oppressor or victim categories to patients, based on their innate characteristics, instead of seeing them as individuals. Several sources said their applications to graduate schools required them to make a written commitment to anti-racism. Some said they’d been penalized for asking the “wrong” questions in class, detailing how this ideological encroachment damages their own mental health. 
I reviewed mission statements and other documents released by professional organizations in recent years, revealing how this revolution has transformed the central tenets of the therapeutic process. 
And I talked to psychologists and others fighting back. They described their alarm at how the very people who are supposed to help ease trauma become the source of it, as therapy sessions transform into ideological struggle sessions. British psychotherapist Val Thomas told me “the reason this happened is that activists captured the institutions and professional bodies of counseling and psychotherapy.”
At a time when as many as 90 percent of adults believe there’s a mental health crisis in this country, parts of the mental health profession are in crisis too. 
An Overcorrection
There is no doubt that, historically, the fields of psychology and psychiatry—founded in the 19th and early 20th centuries by men like Sigmund Freud, Alfred Adler, Carl Jung, and others—made many mistakes and did people serious harm. Bookshelves are filled with volumes on the mistreatment of women. In the early 20th century the field embraced eugenics, leading, especially in America, to appalling treatment of black people. Homosexuality was classified as a mental illness until 1973. 
In recent decades, the profession has sought to address its bad treatment and historic wrongs. This led to the development, in the ’80s, of “cultural competency”—an awareness of one’s own biases and a commitment not to impose them onto clients. Subsequently, as psychiatrist Sally Satel describes in a recent article, the idea that therapists required specific training to treat minorities expanded. By the early ’90s, the American Psychological Association (APA) had updated its ethics code, requiring therapists to behave in “culturally sensitive” ways and appreciate “the worldview and perspectives of those racially and ethnically different from themselves.” 
“The whole point of understanding cultural differences was that you didn’t walk in and assume,” says Christine Sefein, until recently a professor of clinical psychology at Antioch University’s Los Angeles campus. But over the past decade—spurred by the rise of social media, Trump’s election in 2016, and George Floyd’s murder in 2020—Sefein, like many in her profession, began to see the mission change to something more insidious: imposing the bias and framework of Critical Social Justice (CSJ)—the term some psychologists use to refer to social justice ideology. 
According to CSJ, one’s identity categories are paramount to the therapeutic process. Neutrality and objectivity—once the cornerstones of the practice—are now tools of oppression and white supremacy. The major professional organizations for the therapeutic fields have in recent years produced scholarship, mission statements, position papers, and curriculums reflecting this newfound dogma, one that leads therapists to refashion themselves into social activists. 
In 2015, the American Counseling Association (ACA), which represents over 60,000 professional counselors, published the Multicultural and Social Justice Counseling Competencies, dividing counselors and clients into “privileged” and “marginalized” groups and encouraging them to “possess an understanding of their social identities, social group statuses, power, privilege, oppression, strengths, limitations, assumptions, attitudes, values, beliefs, and biases.” They identify “social justice” as “one of the core professional values of the counseling profession.”
The American School Counselor Association offers training for school counselors in all 50 states as “leaders in social justice advocacy, working to eliminate racism and bias in schools.” The National Association of Social Workers—the largest membership organization of social workers in the world—says that “social workers pursue social change” and “embrace the intrinsic role we have in combating discrimination, oppression, racism, and social inequities.” They add, “The NASW Code of Ethics calls on all members of the social work profession to practice through an anti-racist and anti-oppressive lens.”
The influential American Psychological Association, which has more than 146,000 members and is the primary accreditor for psychology training programs, in 2021 issued an “Apology to People of Color for APA’s Role in Promoting, Perpetuating, and Failing to Challenge Racism, Racial Discrimination, and Human Hierarchy in U.S.” Also in 2021 it published an Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion framework, promising to “embed” these principles “throughout all aspects of our work.” This includes a commitment “to applying psychological science to create a more equitable and inclusive world” and elevating and honoring “the voices and perspectives of marginalized social and intersectional identities.” 
Florida psychologist Nina Silander researched the political bias within the APA, finding a 532 percent increase in politically slanted communiqués—almost 80 percent left-leaning—from 2000–2002 to 2017–2019. (Her data will be published in July, in a chapter of this book.) She says an unacknowledged irony of social justice dictating the therapeutic approach is that it often fails to understand the patient in the room. “A lot of immigrants, or ethnic minorities in general, actually possess surprisingly conservative or more traditional values,” Silander said. Therapists who approach these clients through the lens of social justice may be “wholly unprepared for that reality.”
A recent journal article by more than two dozen academics titled “In Defense of Merit in Science” writes of the APA’s new mandate: “They promote a radical, non-evidence-based, untested psychotherapy that encourages patients to see their problems through a lens of power and race.” This is an abandonment of best practices, they write. “This is not science; it is ideology and, arguably, malpractice.” 
Weakening the Client
Critics of this ideological turn have no trouble acknowledging that systemic racism, homophobia, and sexism exist, and that patients may be damaged by these forces. “Of course oppressions exist, of course unfairness,” says Carole Sherwood, a psychotherapist in the UK who has studied the impact of social justice on the field. But, she adds, “The whole idea of identity politics doesn’t fit with therapy because we look at individuals, we look at unique individuals. We don’t group people. The minute you start grouping people and slapping labels on them, you’re making assumptions.”
“Psychology, and especially clinical psychology, is oriented to the individual,” said Tab Shamsi, a clinical psychologist at the University of Chicago who has written about his field’s ideological shift. “But a lot of this social justice ideology isn’t concerned about the individual.”
Counselors steeped in this ideology may assume that systemic racism—rather than, say, destructive habits or distorted thinking—is the source of depression for all patients who are racial minorities. Or that discrimination and stigma (known as the “minority stress model”) rather than concurrent mental health issues are to blame for a young person’s gender distress.
Critics of the CSJ approach are concerned that therapists then focus on forces outside the client’s control, rather than empowering the patient to make positive personal change.
The point of therapy is for clients to “develop more insight into what is troubling them and be able to live more resourcefully,” says UK-based psychotherapist Thomas. “The problem with critical social justice–driven therapy is that there’s only one way of understanding the client’s difficulties. And that understanding is: you are operating in a sort of nexus of oppressed or oppressor groups in society.” 
As Thomas put it: “Woke therapy weakens the client.” 
Andrew Hartz, a clinical psychologist in New York, points out that when a therapist injects a specific political worldview into the therapy room, many patients are left feeling it isn’t “safe to ask questions.” This population includes, he says, conservatives, liberals, and moderates who feel stifled and censored; people of color who are concerned about racism yet object to anti-racism ideology; gay people alienated by the LGBT culture wars; cops vilified by communities they serve; and more. 
Kobi Nelson, now a 41-year-old high school teacher in Colorado, was seeing a therapist for anxiety and depression and to help her assert herself more. Nelson grew up working class in the fundamentalist Church of Christ community outside of Denver, where she was taught that girls should be quiet and self-effacing. 
Nelson was pursuing a PhD in education at the University of Colorado a few years ago, and her therapist encouraged her to speak up in class. Many of the classes, from “urban education” to “critical theory,” focused on power, privilege, and critical race theory. This explicitly linked whiteness with oppression
One day, Nelson followed her therapist’s advice and raised her hand to ask why it was okay for students of color to have “safe spaces” to work out racial issues, but white students struggling to understand their “privilege” shouldn’t. “What if white people could have ‘safe spaces’ to work out their privilege in places of higher education before they became urban teachers?” she inquired. 
The room went silent, then the professor, a person of color, yelled at Nelson, “There are no safe spaces!” There was more yelling, and though one student gingerly pointed out that they’d probably misunderstood Nelson’s point, the others debated Nelson’s power and privilege. She was shaking, devastated, but she didn’t want to cry “white women’s tears” or leave, which would be seen as white privilege. After that, she says her fellow students shunned her, no longer collaborating on presentations or papers.
When she talked to her therapist about what happened, the therapist pushed Nelson to examine her own racism, instead of helping her to deal with the pain of her public shaming. “It brought me right back to that place that I grew up in, which was this church that said because you are a woman, because of an immutable characteristic, you can’t speak up,” she told me. She felt she was treated like a “heretic” because she didn’t fit the model of an oppressed person. 
At least church offers a path to redemption. But not social justice. “There’s no forgiveness. You’re just confessing and confessing and confessing,” Nelson said. “I think many who go into therapy honestly don’t feel like they have a lot of agency, and it doesn’t help when your therapist is confirming that.” 
For the burgeoning number of young people experiencing gender dysphoria—distress with one’s biological sex—not only does pressure inside the profession limit the kind of psychological care they receive, so does pressure from outside. More than 20 states have laws banning what is called “conversion therapy.” 
Conversion therapy typically refers to the now-discredited efforts to change gay people’s sexual orientation to straight. But in the context of gender distress, activists have intentionally reengineered that phrase to include any therapy that doesn’t immediately and completely affirm a young person’s desire to change genders. This means the therapist cannot explore possible sources of dysphoria such as traumatic childhoods, sexual abuse, and family homophobia. It’s also well-documented that many gender-dysphoric young people have numerous other mental health conditions that need addressing. These include autism, ADHD, eating disorders, and self-harm. 
Because “anti-conversion therapy” laws may prohibit exploring those other issues, and require therapists simply to affirm a person’s gender identity, providing exploratory therapy can be dangerous. These laws “create a chilling effect,” says Lisa Marchiano, a Jungian analyst in Philadelphia who often works with clients with gender issues. “Good therapists are afraid to do good therapy. They want to get away from this topic altogether.”
This leaves the rising number of “detransitioners,” people who have made a gender transition, realized it was a mistake, and wish to return to their birth sex, without professional psychological support. “When a client decides to detransition, affirming therapists have no professional tools to cope with it,” said Joe Burgo, a California-based psychologist who works with detransitioners.
(When I told Dr. Mitch Prinstein, chief science officer of the APA, about the patients being damaged by CSJ, he said he had never heard of the problem. The bigger issue, he said, is therapists whose religious or ideological beliefs spur them to deny care to sexual and gender minorities. He pointed me toward the APA’s Code of Ethics, which states that psychologists should be “aware of and respect cultural, individual, and role differences” and “try to eliminate the effect on their work of biases.”)
Treatment based on dogma and ideology contradicts proven modalities like cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). CBT helps patients manage anxiety, depression, and other problems by recognizing and mastering destructive thought patterns and behaviors. Rather than focusing on, say, microaggressions as the source of personal distress, CBT encourages people to put things in perspective, stop catastrophizing, and gain control over their reactions and perceptions. 
But one therapist in training—who was afraid to be named—said that much of what she is learning is the opposite of CBT. “My concern is that we’re not helping people heal and transcend,” she said. “We’re just helping people live in their victim mentality.”
Training Wheels
The ideologically motivated therapists of tomorrow are being trained today, and anyone who publicly questions the dogma risks jeopardizing their career before it starts. 
Take Leslie Elliott, now 46 years old, who was a part-time wellness consultant and homeschooling mother of four when she decided to go back to school in 2019 to get her master’s degree in clinical mental health counseling from the online program at Antioch University.
As her studies progressed, she told me, “I started to be disturbed by the ideological bent of the program.” For example, a faculty advisor told Elliott—who considered herself liberal—that the school was aware they are producing counselors who would not be able to work with Trump supporters. “They are training people who will not be able to see half the population as human beings who need compassionate treatment,” Elliott said. 
As she neared the end of her program in the fall of 2022, all students were required to sign a civility pledge that had been put in place after the death of George Floyd. It read, in part: 
I acknowledge that racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, ableism, ageism, nativism, and other forms of interpersonal and institutionalized forms of oppression exist. I will do my best to better understand my own privileged and marginalized identities and the power that these afford me. 
Despite being against racism, sexism, and all the other “isms,” she refused to sign, even though her refusal meant that her master’s degree was, she said, being “held hostage.” 
“It was like a purity test,” she told me. She posted a video sharing her concerns that “counselors were being trained not to remain objective and neutral with their clients.” Instead, she said, “We were taught that our main role as counselors was not in our work with clients—individuals and families—but rather as activists for social justice.” 
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Students were taught they need to assess themselves and their clients on a continuum of privilege, using criteria such as race, gender identity, disability, and more. “For each of these categories we are to give ourselves either a value of ‘marginalized’ or ‘privileged,’ and do the same for our clients,” she said. “And then add these up and see who’s more privileged. And this teaches you how you’re supposed to interact with your client.” 
Depression, bereavement, relationship issues, or any host of problems that might bring a client to a therapist were subsumed under identity categories, Elliott said. White clients, students were instructed, should be made to become more aware that they were perpetrating white supremacy. For clients who were not white, the students were told to help these patients “increase their racial identity salience”—that is, to see their problems as race-based, even if they weren’t. 
After her video was released, the dean of her program published a statement accusing her of “white supremacy, transphobia, and other harmful ideologies in direct opposition to our professional ethical guidelines.” (The provost did not return several emails from The Free Press requesting comment.) 
Antioch’s approach to training future therapists is hardly unique. Delaware Valley University offers a master’s in counseling psychology whose “focus is on developing socially conscious counselors with an interest in facilitating an equitable and fair society for everyone.” New York University’s Silver School of Social Work master’s program offers “clinical social work practice with a social justice perspective.” Montclair State University’s master’s in counseling puts an “emphasis on the infusion of multicultural counseling and social justice practice in all courses.” 
This trend is not limited to the U.S. 
Carole Sherwood, the British psychotherapist, sent Freedom of Information requests to 30 clinical psychology training courses in the UK. Her goal: “to try and find out the extent to which they had all been captured by critical social justice ideology,” she told me. All 21 of those that responded touted their expansive adoption of these ideas. 
Given the training that new counselors and psychologists are receiving in the U.S., not only would they be unreceptive to offering services to those who don’t share their political views, an entire half of the population would be unwelcome because of their chromosomes. 
For more than a decade, psychology has been predominantly female. Women now make up almost 75 percent of students in psychology graduate programs (in other counseling professions, the percentage is even higher). 
A white, male graduate student in the Midwest, who received an undergraduate degree in psychology in 2015, noticed a sharp contrast in the tone of instruction when he returned to school three years later to pursue a PsyD in clinical psychology. “Everything in terms of the language, in terms of acceptable discourse, had completely altered,” he said. 
His program, and others like it, had started to push “levels of activism that we need to be engaged in in order to be good psychologists, to be good clinicians, to do what is morally right and correct in society.” Identity, he said, mattered more than anything else.
He was often the only male in the room and sometimes felt shunned and shut down by classmates, who accused him of “centering himself” if he objected during their discussions of “hegemonic masculinity” and “internalized misogyny,” or to the assumption that every male was an oppressor. “These ideas are no longer just being utilized to identify and spot oppressive circumstances or inequality, but are really being used to silence anyone who has a different viewpoint,” he said. 
He also worried about the men and boys who would be seen by ideologically trained therapists. He said several of his female classmates expressed discomfort with males and concern about having to treat them. Usually, though, he didn’t speak up. The fear of being ostracized, or even reported to administrators, if he did so affected his own mental health. 
Woke therapy weakens therapists, too. After Trump’s election in 2016 and then the death of George Floyd in 2020, Christine Sefein, who taught graduate students at Antioch, said she noticed her students becoming increasingly delicate. One couldn’t hand a paper in on time after being misgendered, requiring two weeks of bedrest. Students announced they’d fire clients who voted for Trump. “You can’t practice as a therapist if you are that fragile,” said Sefein. 
Her students went from “being curious and wondering to being assumptive,” says Sefein, herself a first-generation American whose parents emigrated from Egypt. She resigned in 2021, in protest over the encroachment of politics into her program. 
Val Thomas says that any students questioning what’s happening to the profession will be labeled a reactionary or bigot, and “taken through a process of moral reeducation.”
One student at a highly ranked East Coast program texted articles to some classmates questioning the gender-affirming model of transitioning minors, and describing how several countries have severely limited young people’s medical transition. Another student reported her, and she was put on a remediation plan and found to be deficient in “orientation to multiculturalism and social justice advocacy,” because she had “openly shared content that shows a bias against the transgender community, which demonstrates a need to grow in sensitivity towards diversity.” 
Compelled to appear before a panel of professors, she disavowed the perspectives she shared in order to continue. If she received another poor evaluation, she was warned, her fitness to continue in the program would be reconsidered. 
“We’re in this graduate program where critical thinking I assumed was encouraged. But it’s apparent that we can think critically as long as we’re in the same ideology,” she said. If therapists “can’t handle information that is outside of their realm of comfort,” she asked, “how can they possibly be in the position to counsel clients?”
Fighting Back
Therapists concerned about the direction their profession is taking are banding together to offer alternatives. 
Christine Sefein is now part of Critical Therapy Antidote, a platform co-founded in 2020 by Val Thomas. Its website says it “has become a significant platform for critiquing the tenets of Critical Social Justice in relation to therapy. . . . We provide support, advocacy and resources for an increasingly beleaguered profession.” 
Andrew Hartz is launching the Open Therapy Institute this summer, whose mission is to “foster open inquiry in mental health care and support those underserved in the face of politicization of the field.” The institute will offer professional development for therapists and promises to provide patients therapy from professionals who “strive to be open, curious, and empathic,” he said.
In 2021, psychologist Brian Canfield, Professor of Clinical Mental Health Counseling at Florida Atlantic University, co-founded the International Association of Psychology and Counseling to, according to the website, “oppose all forms of racism, cultural bias, discrimination. . .  and cancellation” and to promote “critical thinking over indoctrination.” Canfield told me, “Under no circumstances, ethically or morally, should we use our clinical positions to proselytize or try to shape the worldview of our clients.” 
Jungian analyst Lisa Marchiano is president of the Gender Exploratory Therapy Association, which launched in 2021. The website explains, “We are here because those who are exploring gender identity or struggling with their biological sex should have access to therapists who will provide thoughtful care without pushing an ideological or political agenda.“ And Joe Burgo is a co-founder of Beyond Transition. Launched in 2021, it offers low-cost, non-ideological therapy for detransitioners. 
Some are finding alternatives to providing therapeutic services for clients. Leslie Elliott refused to cave to the demand that she sign the mandatory pledge and so has not received her master’s degree—she hired a lawyer to resolve her dispute. In the meantime, she formed a peer counseling group with others concerned about encroaching ideology in the workplace, and offers private coaching, based on her belief, as her website says, that “we are each a whole and unique person, not divisible into ‘identity’ categories or political parties.” 
As for Lily Cooney, she feels free to express herself, and no longer has the desire to go to therapy. “At this point,” she said, “I feel like what I can do for myself is healthier than what these ideologue therapists can do for me.”
==
When your therapist wants to assimilate you into the collective.
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oregon-ultimatum · 1 month ago
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Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1 cover art by florenzics
(Read his comic?)
The complete Oregon Ultimatum Chapter 1 is coming early 2025!
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calpalsworld · 19 days ago
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If I work on this any longer Im gonna be sick. The most rendered thing I ever did (???). My OC!!!!! MY THIRST TRAP!!!! Dr. Windows. 🥵🥵🤓❤️💥💥💥💥Boom boom boom
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meshimellow · 1 year ago
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commissions for the lovely @calpalsworld
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spw-art · 1 year ago
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normal people in oregon
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kudosmyhero · 1 year ago
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Transformers: Infiltration #3
Read Date: February 06, 2023 Cover Date: March 2006 ● Writer: Simon Furman ● Art: E.J. Su ● Colorist: John Rauch ● Letterer: Tom B. Long ● Editor: Chris Ryall ◦ Dan Taylor●
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**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers
Reactions As I Read: ● Verity, uh… I'm bad with names… the O'Nion kid, and their friend are in a holding cell. Verity is holding the palm computer up to the camera and is threatening to erase the data. ● who we got here… Ironhide is red, Sunstreaker is yellow, I'm pretty good with Ratchet by now but he's red and white, Prowl is white, Bumblebee is Bumblebee, Wheeljack is white and green, and Jazz is white and blue? Hard to tell for sure if that's supposed to be blue, black, or gray. I'll never remember everyone! ● Ratchet is relaying his story to Prowl and the others, arguing the logic of why he did what he did ● Tucson, Arizona. A cop and some guy are looking at the trailer where the salesman lived. Before cop can go inside, a couple of Decepticon jets appear out of nowhere--I didn’t know they could transport(?)/come through worm holes(?)--and blow the trailer up. Ah, maybe it was an RV rather than a trailer? Either way, it's blown up now. ● Back in the Ark-19, Ratchet's hologram guy shows up in the holding cell (god he's creepy) ● ah, "holomatter"
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● the Ark-19 is not in outer space but at the bottom of Lake Michigan ● Verity gives Ratchet the computer with surprisingly little fuss ● heh, several panels of Wheeljack sitting in front of a monitor with his arms crossed
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● ah, they use the computer to send a message to Optimus Prime, I think. Ratchet had asked Prowl if he was going to contact him and Prowl said no, so I'm guessing Ratchet is going behind his back ● What's siege mode: "Siege Mode is a protective military configuration usually adopted during Phase Five. I've only seen it once myself before and--well, anyway, it's not good." ● Ratchet finds what looks like two command bunkers--one in Oregon and one in Nebraska ● hahah, split screen of Ratchet with his holomatter creepy dude
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● the 3 humans work on convincing Ratchet to let them go to Nebraska to check out the abandoned (maybe) base ● Heheh, Bumblebee's holo-person is a pretty girl ● the guys get in Ratchet, Verity gets in Bumblebee ● the jets blow up the bus that Verity and the salesguy were in in issue 1; they seem to be going around, destroying evidence ● who dat at the end… someone I've not met yet? Starscream? I guess I'll learn when I paste the synopsis here in 3… 2… ● oh, but first: 👏👏👏👏 ● 3… 2… ● Ha! It is Starscream!
Synopsis: Trapped in a containment cell, Verity Carlo offers an ultimatum to her Autobot captors: if they don't let her and her friends out, she wipes the SM-40 that's prompted such interest from both sides. Sunstreaker is unmoved, and flicks the security camera to "mute" as Prowl gives Ratchet a thorough dressing-down for disobeying his orders and breaking cover. The Autobot medic tells his side of the story: having arrived too late to prevent the Decepticon assassination of their target of interest, Ratchet wound up clashing with Runamuck and eventually ran across Verity Carlo and Hunter O'Nion. Ratchet concludes his case by arguing that the Autobots are on Earth to save lives from wanton Decepticon action, and that's exactly what he tried to do.
Prowl is unmoved: not only did the medic fail to rescue his primary target, he points out, but his attempt to play hero has drawn three more innocent lives into the crossfire. Prowl orders Ratchet to find out what's on Verity's computer and then get rid of the humans, and although Ratchet suggests alerting Optimus Prime to the unusual Decepticon activity Prowl just ignores |him. In desperation, Ratchet points out to Ironhide that the local Decepticon cell might have potentially gone rogue… and even if they're acting under orders, their erratic behavior means only one thing: it's a matter of time before Megatron arrives.
In Tucson, Arizona, a police officer is investigating the dead body of the businessman, and tracks his last known whereabouts to a nearby trailer park. No sooner has he arrived than a pair of warplanes—one black, one purple—appear out of thin air, annihilating the dead man's trailer before promptly disappearing again.
As the detained humans argue in their cell, Ratchet's holomatter avatar appears in front of them and persuades Verity to hand the computer over. Ratchet deactivates the holomatter walls of their cell and explains the situation: the humans have been brought aboard the Autobot starship Ark-19, located at the bottom of Lake Michigan. Ratchet plugs in the palmtop into the Ark-19's systems to analyze its contents; at the same time, Ironhide, unbeknownst to all, finishes sending a secret pulsewave to Autobot high command—for Optimus Prime's eyes only.
Ratchet finally reveals the reason why the mysterious businessman had been targeted by the Decepticons: his photos show snapshots of a gigantic Decepticon bunker somewhere in the wilderness of Nebraska. As Ratchet explains the Decepticon infiltration protocol to the confused humans, he points out that something's gone wrong on Earth: the Decepticons have abandoned this base in favor of a secondary command bunker in Oregon, and have initiated siege mode earlier than normal. More intriguingly, the previous holder of the palmtop computer broke into the Nebraska base, snapping photos of its derelict interior. Verity wonders aloud: why would the Decepticons relocate?
In Riverside, a news crew prepares to broadcast a report from the site of Jimmy Pink's destroyed garage. As they set up, however, an ominous rumbling precludes the arrival of Blitzwing in his tank configuration, who levels what remains of Jimmy's garage before trundling over the broadcast vans. The assembled newcasters can only look on in confusion as the tank transforms into a fighter jet and zooms away.
Verity, Hunter and Jimmy insist that Ratchet take them to the Decepticon bunker in Nebraska so that they can locate the proof Ratchet needs to persuade Prowl of the severity of the situation. Ratchet isn't convinced: rescuing them from the crossfire is one thing, but willingly sending them into a dangerous situation is quite another. Their arguments wear him down, however, and Ratchet finally makes up his mind when Bumblebee, who's overheard the argument, offers to help out. The three humans climb aboard as the two Autobots make their way to Nebraska.
In the bus depot in Phoenix, Arizona, a bus lot manager investigates the salvaged bus targeted by the Decepticons. His maintenance concerns are quickly alleviated when the two Decepticons appear and annihilate the bus in another surgical strike. When asked for their next target, however, Decepticon lieutenant Starscream orders Skywarp and Blitzwing to destroy the Nebraska bunker…
(https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Infiltration_issue_3)
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Fan Art: Pay attention to even the tiniest details. by pika
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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago
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'While Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer” brilliantly captures the ethical dilemma surrounding nuclear weaponry, the film overlooks the ensuing devastation caused by Hanford’s lethal nuclear byproducts. Hanford is, in fact, only given a movie-mention one time in the three hour epic, and that’s simply not enough. From 1944 up to the Cold War’s conclusion in 1991, Hanford provided over 60% of the plutonium for the country’s nuclear weapons program, sufficient for several tens of thousands of arms in the US nuclear stockpile.
The history behind the Hanford site is absolutely terrifying. Even more horrific is the contamination risk left behind and still growing. Today, Hanford, Washington, only 35 miles from the Oregon border, is considered to be the most toxic site in the US.
Before the 1940s and the grim reality of the Second World War, life near a bend of the expanse of the Columbia River was rather idyllic. Folks in the communities of White Bluffs and Hanford, Washington grew peaches, grapes, and wheat. They raised sheep, cattle, and their families in the high desert land. Long before this, the arid plain was the traditional winter home for several Native American tribes, who to this day maintain treaty rights to hunt and fish along the river.
Enter The Manhattan Project
Everything surrounding nuclear research in the late 1930s was the most heavily guarded clandestine secret of the era. Little was known about the deadly effects of splitting a minuscule atom, but the US military was determined to find out via research they code-named the Manhattan Project. More specifically, the race to produce the world’s first nuclear weapon. Conjecture turned to fact and Hanford’s fate was sealed in 1940 when the first particles of Plutonium were created. Specifically, the isotope plutonium-239 is what the military was after.
Physicists at the then top-secret labs in Los Alamos, New Mexico already had plans drawn up for a nuclear bomb they dubbed the “Fat Man” due to its bulbous structure. It was a plutonium-based weapon, while its cousin “Little Boy” was uranium-based. Both were life-ending.
Uranium is needed to produce plutonium, its mother-element, so to speak, and massive quantities of refined plutonium-239 would be needed in the race to produce a war-ending bomb. In that era, the mere existence of element 94 was taboo. Classified documents of the time referred to plutonium with the code words “49” or “product.”
The Columbia River Site of Hanford was Selected in 1943
In February 1943, the US government forcibly seized 670 square miles of desert in southeast Washington. They did this by “condemning” the land just north of Richland, WA that encompassed the small towns of Hanford and White Bluffs. Not dissimilar to events in Oregon’s Scoggins Valley 30 years later, residents were given the ultimatum to pack up and move within 30-90 days.
Their homes were torn down and fruit orchards pulled up by the roots. Even the dead were forced to leave; their bodies were exhumed from the town cemetery and reburied in nearby Prosser. The Army broke the Treaty of 1855, informing the Confederated Tribes and Bands of the Yakima Nation, the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation, the Nez Perce Tribe, and Wanapum that their hunting and fishing rights would be restricted and eventually revoked.
What were once thriving small communities in rural America were effectively wiped off the map.
The project brought an influx of residents to the area, with Richland’s population soaring from fewer than 300 to more than 11,000 people. Workers were not informed of what they would be building or why. At that time “aiding the war effort” was enough of an explanation. Patriotism was high while jobs were scarce. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” was the enforced mentality at the Hanford Site. Until the first bomb was dropped on Japan, people performed their jobs never knowing what they were actually building.
Hanford, Washington Became Home to the World’s First Production-Scale Nuclear Reactor
Only a select few elites knew the truth of what was being built in Washington State. The general public would have no inkling for another two years.
Manufacturer DuPont began advertising for workers in newspapers for an unspecified “war construction project” in southeastern Washington, offering an “attractive scale of wages” and cozy living facilities. Before the war ended in 1945, The Hanford Engineer Works successfully constructed 554 buildings, three nuclear reactors, and three 820 ft. plutonium processing canyons. The project required 386 miles of roads, 158 miles of railway, four electrical substations, and 780,000 cubic yards of concrete.
Construction of the B Reactor began in August 1943 and was completed on September 13, 1944. The reactor produced Hanford’s first plutonium on November 6, 1944. The 1.5 lbs. of paste-like material was packed into a lead box and sent by car to Portland, Oregon, where it went on by passenger train to Los Angeles. From there it was picked up by a US Army officer from Los Alamos. The man was never informed that he was guarding a payload of highly radioactive substance.
By April 1945, shipments of plutonium were headed to Los Alamos every five days.
Plutonium Produced at Hanford Was Used in The First Nuclear Weapon, and Eventually in the Bomb Dropped on Nagasaki, Japan, August 9, 1945.
On July 16, 1945, in a remote desert location near Alamogordo, New Mexico, the Trinity Test commenced, powered by the plutonium from Hanford, Washington. It was the world’s first detonated nuke, creating an enormous mushroom cloud some 40,000 feet high and ushering in the new Atomic Age. As physicist Robert Oppenheimer watched the bomb go off, he disconcertingly thought, “I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
On August 6, 1945, the uranium bomb “Little Boy” was dropped over Hiroshima, Japan, taking between 90,000 and 146,000 human lives with it. Three days later “Fat Man” packed with its load of Hanford-produced plutonium detonated over Nagasaki, killing an additional 39,000 to 80,000 people over the next four months.
In 2010, Robert Alvarez, a former Energy Department official, said enough plutonium was buried at Hanford to create 1,800 bombs the size of what was detonated on Nagasaki.
After WWII Hanford Still Continues to Poison
Production of weapons-grade plutonium never ceased at the Hanford Site, even after the war officially ended. Realizing new threats from Soviet-era Russia, manufacturing continued under the Atomic Energy Commission to produce a total of 57 tons of the grayish metallic substance. This was enough to arm the majority of the 60,000 weapons in the U.S. arsenal.
Individually, the nine reactors at the site possessed a life expectancy of 22 years. Decommissioning began in 1963 and was largely completed in 1987 with the shut down of “N”, the last reactor still in operation. Since then, most of the Hanford, Washington reactors have been entombed (or “cocooned”) to allow the radioactive materials to decay, and the surrounding structures have been removed and buried.
Unfortunately shutting down anything nuclear does not equal “safe”. The ecological nightmare of 56 million gallons of toxic waste at Hanford is a bleak reminder of this reality.
Signs of Hanford’s impact on the environment were noticeable as early as 1960, when a 55-foot whale, killed off the coast of Oregon, was radiating gamma rays. Scientists suspected it had eaten irradiated plankton contaminated from waste products that had floated down the Columbia River into the sea.
In 1989, the Tri-Party Agreement was signed by the Environmental Protection Agency, the Department of Energy, and the Washington State Department of Ecology to clean up Hanford’s mess.
In April 2021 an Underground Hanford Storage Tank Was Discovered to be Leaking Radioactive Liquid Into the Ground.
As reported by The Oregonian earlier this year, tank B-109 is seeping some of its 123,000 gallons of radioactive waste into Central Washington land. The giant tank was constructed during the Manhattan Project and received waste from Hanford operations between 1946 to 1976. Not only does this spell trouble for our northern neighbor, but things could also quickly turn ugly for Oregon and Idaho.
In a disturbing new article by literary journal Virginia Quarterly Review, author Lois Parshley writes in extreme detail about the danger levels still present at the site.
60% of Hanford, Washington Employees Have Reported Toxic Exposure and High Cancer Rates
The article also caught the attention of The Oregonian. Douglas Perry breaks down some highlights of the VQR article in his October 2021 piece, citing the “growing risks to entire Northwest region”.
Hanford technician Abe Garza is interviewed by the VQR. “Shortly after he arrived at the worksite, [Garza’s] nose started bleeding, and wouldn’t stop,” Parshley writes. “Another crew member complained of a terrible headache. A third said he could smell something like onions. (Previous chemical exposures at work had destroyed Garza’s ability to smell.) Garza knew right away something had gone wrong, but it was already too late: A potentially lethal cloud of chemicals was sweeping over them.” Garza was later diagnosed with heavy-metal poisoning — as well as toxic encephalopathy, a dementia-like condition that often proves fatal.
Garza was performing a routine inspection of the site’s holding tanks in 2015. “The amount of high-level waste currently in just one of Hanford’s 177 tanks would cover a football field to a depth of one foot. More than a third of the single-shell tanks have already leaked. One of the double-shell tanks, into which waste was moved after concerns over leaks, has also failed. In late April of 2021, news broke about a new leak in one of the single-shell tanks, which is estimated to be spilling nearly 1,300 gallons a year.”
An astonishing 60% of Hanford, Washington employees have reported some level of toxic exposure. More terrifying is the amount of radioactive waste and gas, seeping into the groundwater and contaminating the very air.
A 2002 study found that Native American children from the Hanford area have “an extremely elevated risk of immune diseases.” Cancer is also exceptionally prevalent among residents of the area.
What Can Be Done? Namely, What is the US Government Doing to Facilitate the Cleanup Process at Hanford?
The Hanford Site is roughly 230 miles from Portland and a scant 35 miles from the Oregon border. Our state has a tremendous stake in what continues to happen in efforts to clean up Hanford’s disastrous mess.
In a 2019 report, the Department of Energy extended its timeline for cleaning up Hanford’s radioactive sludge until 2100.
Faced with rising costs, the US DOE announced that it would redefine what constitutes “high-level radioactive waste” under federal law, which would allow it to leave additional waste in place, rather than transferring it to safer, long-term storage. The DOE estimates that this relabeling could save the agency between $73 and $210 billion. When applied to Hanford, Washington, it would allow the tanks holding nuclear waste to be filled with concrete and left where they are, after which the DOE has promised a 100-year-long monitoring period.
A century of monitoring might seem like enough, but the timeline of nuclear contamination is measured on a much different scale. Even after the monitoring period, some of Hanford’s waste will still be radioactive.
Tom Carpenter is the executive director of HanfordChallenge.org, a group that aims to “create a future for the Hanford Nuclear Site that secures human health and safety, advances accountability, and promotes a sustainable environmental legacy.”
“If you inhale strontium-90,” says Carpenter, referring to a radioactive particle widely found around Hanford, “and it kills you, and you’re buried in the ground, those radionuclides will persist around your grave.” He added: “They can get into food supplies again. They essentially never go away.”
One thing the release of Oppenheimer has done for Hanford is renew public interest in tours. The B-Reactor Tour remains the crowd favorite, yet the Manhattan Project tour also merits a visit. This tour delves into the indigenous narratives, settler tales, and the histories of both Hanford and White Bluffs.
Consider taking a virtual tour at Hanford.gov...or book an in-person tour: manhattanprojectbreactor.hanford.gov.'
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